#berries writing

[berriethewizard]

Indecision - Champion of Blood au

Masterpost

Shuffling, a thud, and the slightest hitch in breath. These sounds rouse Ganondorf from his slumber. He stays still, the perfect picture of sleep, his brain rapidly piecing together the scene on the other side of his eyelids. Someone has crawled through his window, into his bedroom up so high in his desert tower, and subsequently hit the deck. He listens as they pull themselves up, leaning against the wall as they slowly rise to their feet, and even slower make their way towards the bed. Ganondorf does not move, does not ready a spell in between fingertips - he knows who this is. By the gait, and the pure energy and magic surrounding them.

Link. His little champion has returned home at last.

Ganondorf fakes a slow waking, reaching a hand out for Link’s own as he shuffles in the bed. It reaches a cold, shaking limb. He frowns, pulling on the arm slightly, and Link tumbles into the bed with no resistance. He - less gracefully than he probably could have if he opened his eyes, which he does not - manoeuvres Link until he’s entirely in Ganondorf’s arms, pushing warmth back into his body. He pays no mind to the fact Link is still fully clothed, boots pushing sand into the sheets in a way he will chastise himself for later, and instead focuses on his champion, and his sleep.

Until Link starts to wiggle.

“Stop, daffodil, it's an absurd hour.” Ganondorf grumbles into his hair. Link keeps wiggling. He finally lets him go when he begins slapping him on the chest with a flat palm, loosening his arms just enough for Link to roll out of them.

He didn't intend for Link to then tumble onto the floor.

Ganondorf finally opens his eyes, squinting into the dark to assess the situation. Link is firmly on the floor, not making any move to get up, caught between holding his middle and his leg and breathing measured stuttery breaths. When Ganondorf summons a low light to hover above them, he sees spots of blood on the sheets.

He sighs, accepting his rest is in fact disrupted, and moves to kneel besides Link on the floor.

“What happened to you, hm?” He gently cards his fingers through Link’s hair. Ganondorf tucks his fringe away from his eyes, but Link answers with a shake of his head and displaces them again. “Would you be opposed to a bath?”

A teary eye peeks out from between white hairs. Anger wells up inside Ganondorf, a very familiar want for revenge rearing its head. The way he picks Link up is the polar opposite of what boils in his chest.

He requests to the guard posted outside his room a replacement for his bedsheets, and for fresh clothes to be brought to the baths for Link, and carries him in that direction with as little jostling as possible.

The baths are kept warm by enchantments, and the steam gently rises from the water and fills the room with humidity when Ganondorf enters. Link only marginally fidgets when he’s laid down on the tile by the edge of the pool. His eyes closed, brow furrowed in pain - completely trusting Ganondorf to handle him gently.

Ganondorf would not consider himself gentle. A king can be caring, kind and merciful, but gentle? A king’s job is to love his people fiercely, fight for them with powerful hands and steadfast words. If he were gentle, he would be a coward. He would be trampled under those who do not deign to give him dignity. However as he pulls apart Link’s garments to assess his wounds, he watches himself become this juxtaposition to the king he claims to be. He shushes Link when the fabric tugs at his bloodied stomach, cradles his head when he checks his scalp for injuries, dips his hands in the water and saturates it with healing magic, not because it’s the easiest solution, but because he knows Link dislikes the taste of potions and the itch of dry magic against his skin.

Perhaps it is because Link calls himself broken so often that drives him to this odd behaviour. Perhaps he’s simply more possessive of him than previously thought. Either way, he is not a king in this moment, so he supposes it's alright to have this weakness - just under the moonlight hours.

Water and body prepared, he taps Link’s shoulder until he opens his eyes, and urges him into the water wordlessly. He watches as he slips in over the lip into the heat and healing magic, and Ganondorf is glad he did not elect to join Link, for the blood that spreads out around him from the open wound in the water reignites his anger tenfold. His hands clench at his bent knees, sparking with lightning without his control, and he imagines ripping apart whatever caused it with brutal efficiency over and over.

When he finally takes a deep breath and looks back towards Link, the wound is completely healed. There’s nothing the magic can do for his knees, simply the heat of the water soothing them, but he’s floating in the bath with a relaxed expression and loose joints. He rests his chin on a propped up hand and watches Link float.

Ganondorf stays like that for twenty minutes, half dozing and half tracing the shapes of Link’s body with his eyes, before there’s a rippling of water and Link is making his way back to the edge of the pool. He rests his arms on the lip, and rests his head on top of them. When Ganondorf meets his eye, there’s a rare look of mischief on his face.

“What did you call me?” Link’s quiet, raspy voice soothes any remaining anger gripping Ganondorf’s soul. The words, however, confuse him.

“When?”

“When you were half asleep. You called me something.”

Ganondorf tries to recall his sleepy mumbling. He doesn’t remember saying anything in particular, just that little flower he saw in his reading last week popping into his head–

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pointedly looks away from Link, warmth rising to his face. He refuses to look at the smile that he knows is there, taunting him.

“I think you do.”

“I do not. The magic in the water hasn't gotten to your obvious concussion, you should dunk your head under it.” Link just laughs quietly.

Silence mingles with the steam in the room, Link looking at him and Ganondorf not looking back.

“...I liked it.” Link whispers. He betrays himself and takes a glance, and Link is playing with the pools of water that slipped over the lip of the bath with a stray finger. He’s blushing too.

Thoughts race through his head like a molgera chase. Link lying in a medical cot in an outpost when he was first found, beaten and bloody at the behest of the Hyrule crown. The first time Ganondorf challenged him to a duel, eager to push the limits of their new spy and glean his true intentions, blades singing. The first time Ganondorf had Link in his own bed, quaking and desperate, physical markers littered all over his body marking the hylian as his. He thinks about his pounding heart when Link is injured in battle, when he’s late returning from a mission, the sparks racing across his palms in anger, in possession… in protectiveness.

Ganondorf contemplates the implications of his feelings for all of three seconds before he stands and retreats out of the room with a swift “I’m going to retrieve your clothes.” He catches Link’s huff of breath behind him and walks faster.

Startling the poor servant on her way to deliver the needed garments was not Ganondorf’s intention, but his stalking towards her in his state of emotional turmoil creates the effect nonetheless. He makes sure to slow his pace and reassure her that no error was made on her part, and nods his head thankfully when she hands the clothes over. Best not to let his own violent feelings bleed over into fear in his people.

Link is sitting on the edge of the pool drying his hair with a towel when he returns. He has his legs still dangling in the water, curling around his calves as the rest of him dries off. Ganondorf stands in the doorway, captured by the stray drops of water tracing Link’s back muscles as they fall from his hair, lamenting that the magic in the water took away the marks he placed upon his pale skin before Link departed. He makes a silent vow to remedy that injustice at the nearest opportunity. An opportunity that isn't being woken up in the middle of the night by a bleeding out champion, that is.

He clears his throat to get Link’s attention, and gestures with the pile of clothes when Link turns to look back. The towel is left over his head haphazardly as he wobbles to a stand, feet puddling water around him, and the bubbling feeling of fondness prompts Ganondorf to ask, with more of a tender touch than he'd ever thought possible,

“How are you feeling?”

He sees the way Link’s eyes light up ever so slightly, pushing that blank grey back for a single moment, and something happens to his heart.

“Alright. No more blood, just bad bones.” Link signs, before grabbing the clothes from him and fumbling to put them on. The servant only brought his loose outer layers, late hour that it is, and he slips them on quickly enough while Ganondorf tries not to explode. Then, they're back off to bed.

Ganondorf rolls the budding revelation of his feelings around in his head long after Link has fallen to sleep against him. It pulls back and forth, oscillating between excitement and fear. The beautiful, broken thing in his arms, all his - to consume or to cradle, no world in which both is possible.

He eventually falls asleep, arms holding Link close, mouth pressed to the crown of his head. Indecisive.

[akajustmerry]

I'm simply of the opinion that lestat de lioncourt wishes he had half the swagger of lazlo cravensworth

[foldingfittedsheets]

I can’t remember a time in my life where the summers weren’t full of berries to eat. Every trail has at least a few bushes offering their wares to people walking by.

Many of them aren’t monetized, they don’t keep well, not appealing enough for the bother of cultivating them. Salmon berries, huckleberries, thimble berries. We have black and blue berries, too. But you don’t see most of our local berries in the grocery store.

One of my most precious memories with my beloved was our earliest hike together. They didn’t grow up native to the area and exclaimed in alarm when they saw me reach casually toward a bush to pick a berry as we walked by.

“You can’t just eat berries! What if it’s poisonous?!”

“It’s not,” I said, puzzled. “I guess there’s some poisonous berries around here but I don’t eat those ones, it’s really easy to tell.”

“Those are safe to eat?”

I laughed and popped it into my mouth only to immediately realize it was horribly unripe. Salmon berries come in two colors you see, orange and red.

I’d mistaken an unripe red berry for a ripe orange one. It had felt soft enough to be ripe but it was so bitter it hurt. So an instant after asserting it was safe to eat I opened my mouth with a “bleh” to let it fall back out.

“They- they’re not poisonous it just wasn’t ripe,” I insisted.

My beloved looked skeptical but scanned the bush and plucked another berry to me. “Try this one.”

The sun shone beautifully through the dappled tree canopy, illuminating the gleaming berry in their hand, a perfect snapshot of a romantic summer moment. I took the berry, my fingers brushing their palm to bring the little fruit up to my lips while looking into their smiling eyes.

I had to spit it out.

It was as overwhelmingly bitter as the last one, but I didn’t mind the way my beloved laughed at me.

[stay-close]

Don’t let the same dog bite you twice.

Chuck Berry

[thoughtkick]

Don’t let the same dog bite you twice.

Chuck Berry

[berristreasuredlibrary]

big beefy men part two?? but... they're subs???? bigger sigh...

A/N: I finally finished it!! I hope you guys enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it >:3 I couldn't figure out who else to put so perhaps you guys could help me out and lmk for sure! I yap too much so enjoy! (I read it over once so there might be typos, pls ignore them O_o)

Big beefy men who look like they could crush you without much effort. Except... they're the biggest sweethearts you've ever met. Whose hands envelop both of yours - including your wrists - and who love to bear hug you from behind, especially when you don't expect it. They're the perfect size for it too!

Sneaking up behind you when you're getting a snack from the pantry or fridge, footsteps silent despite their big frame, a shadow slowly creeping up your back, a cheeky smile making its way onto their handsome face. Standing just inches away from your body, they watch in amusement as the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand, your body telling you that something is there, yet you never quite learn your lesson.

So, when big arms wrap around your waist, squeezing your plush body against their chest, his hands squeezing whatever they can get - which is a lot - you squeal, your precious snack falling from your grasp. You can huff and squirm as much as you like, though your efforts to escape are futile - as you've come to accept -and your lover only finds it amusing, watching you battle with his arms in a war you'll never win.

Your scent surrounds him, much like his entire stature surrounds you, and he can't help but bury his face into the crook of your neck, breathing your heavenly smell like it's the last breath he'll ever take. You can feel his muscles flexing, straining against fabric in a way that has your mouth watering, your mind running wild as your feet leave the ground.

It's not his fault, not really, or that's what he tells you at least, when you can no longer feel solid ground beneath you. You're so much smaller than he is, his back hurts often, having to lean down to hug or kiss you. Or bend you over any solid surface.

You can squirm and huff all you want, complaining about not being on the ground, but he knows you better than that. He knows you only complain because your panties grow increasingly uncomfortable, getting sticky since your pussy began drooling for the brute of a man you call your lover the minute his arms wrapped around your middle.

He knows you squirm against his form - the solid wall of absolute muscle, carved by the gods themselves - because if you stop and stay still for even a second, your focus will be on how your clit throbs, on how heat pools low in your tummy, how your nipples begin hardening under the shirt you're wearing...he knows.

It's not like you can help it either, not when he's so handsome and his body rivals that of a movie star - but you know he'd put models, bodybuilders, and actors to shame if he really wanted to. No, you can't truly help it, and with the way he's looking at you now - with wide eyes and pouty lips, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits, pinching your sensitive nipples - it really isn't helping.

Despite still being in the air, his hands still squeezing and playing with your tits, you know you're the one who truly holds power. He may be big and strong, but you know with the right coaxing and pretty words, he's putty in your hands. So, when you shift your hips up slightly, dragging your ass along the length of his hardening cock, you bite back a smirk when he groans softly, boarding a moan.

His hands squeeze your tits harder, trying to ground himself desperately, yet his hips have a mind of their own, because they roll forward, trying to set a rhythm that would ease some of the discomfort. However, he is thoroughly disappointed when your hips stop their movement, and he whines against your throat where his face is buried.

Your hands push against his forearms, signaling him to let you go, which he reluctantly does, missing your warmth seconds after setting you back onto the ground. His eyes met yours, blown out and unfocused, his hands clenching at his side, while your eyes drift down to eye the bulge straining against his sweatpants, the fabric outlining the shape of his cock deliciously.

Your hands move up to push against his stomach, coaxing him to lean back onto the counter, before they travel lower, tugging on the waistband of those sweatpants and watching him swallow down the saliva pooling in his mouth. His eyes dart down to watch your hands push the offending fabric down his hips, watching at the elastic stretches over the toned muscles of his sharp hips and thick thighs - it's enchanting really.

Your mouth waters when his dick springs free from its confinements, bobbing up and down slowly, the sight making your pussy drool even more than before. Thick and heavy, just barely being able to stay upright, threatening to hang with the sheer weight of it. Veins decorate the shaft, his tip colored an angry shade of pinkish red, trimmed hair at his navel leading you down to the delicious sight of your lover's dick.

Pre beads at his tip, making your mouth water as you lean forward and wrap your lips around the angry tip, dragging your tongue along his slit slowly, your eyes locked on his expression. Watching as his jaw goes slack the moment your heavenly mouth is on him, his eyes struggling to stay open, and his hands hovering over your head - wanting to touch you, yet knowing he didn't have your permission yet.

Humming around his tip, you pull back, spitting onto the area your mouth had just been, before peering up at your lover intently, voice silky smooth and teasing at the same time. "Baby, gotta get you wetter. Help me out?" Your hand wraps around the base of his aching dick and he struggles to choke back a broken whine as he watches your tongue loll out, waiting patiently for his help.

His head dips forward slightly, chin tilted down as his lips pucker briefly, watching as a thick glob of spit lands on your awaiting tongue. his ears catching the pleased purr that rumbles from your chest. When you move forward, letting your combined saliva slowly roll down your tongue, he swears he dies right then and there, because the moment the warm, stickiness of your mixed spit feels like heaven against his aching hot dick.

You barely manage to wrap your lips around his angry tip before his thighs are tensing and he's crying out. "C-cumming! Oh fuck, 'm cumming!" The moans falling from his lips are sinful, drawn out and raspy, his mouth having fallen agape to let them fall freely, his eyes watery and locked on the way your cheeks puff with his load.

Hia hands find their way into your hair, having been brave enough to finally touch you, his fingers tangling in the strands and pushing your head down whilst his hips shift forward, forcing more of his throbbing and twitching cock into the heavenly warmth of your mouth. Your own arms move up to wrap around his thighs, squeezing tight and making your own eyes water when his tip pushes further down your throat.

Cum and spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth, only to be scooped up by his fingers after he detangles a hand from your hair, popping the digits into his mouth seconds later, moaning at the taste of his cum and your spit. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes watching your throat work as you swallow down his thick load, thighs twitching beneath your arms and his chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes.

When the last of his cum is swallowed, he's pushing your head away and moving onto the floor, ripping your clothes from your delectable body in his haste to return the favor. "Please please, let me fuck you. I'll be good, I'll fuck you really good. Wanna be inside your pretty pussy. Please, baby? Promise I'll be good for you, I really wanna make you feel good too."

And how can you deny him? With his beautiful puppy eyes, the pout playing at his lips, and the furrow of his brows, greedy hands squeezing your tit, your stomach, waist, the fat of your ass, and your thighs, until he's cupping your soaked pussy, panties merely shoved aside to expose you to him.

His free hand wraps around his shaft, pumping himself quickly as his eyes roam over your plush body, fingers toying with your clit and dipping into your cunt, teasing the both of you. It's only when you nod that he shifts closer, knees nudging your thighs further apart, a pathetic cry leaving his puffy lips.

An endless string of breathless 'thank you's fill your ear as he drags his sensitive tip through your folds, tears rolling down his cheeks when he finally sinks into your heavenly pussy, back hunching over your body as he buries his face into your neck. A shaky sigh leaves him, as if it pained him to be without your pussy, gummy walls wrapped around his cock and squeezing him in a way only you were able to do.

Desperate, wet kisses are pressed against your throat as his arm wraps around your shoulders, keeping you still against him, his other hand squeezing your tit when his hips finally reel back only to slam forward, both of your cries echoing in your kitchen. Apologies leave his lips, frantic kisses matching the frantic pace of his thrusts, his tip grazing that spot in your gummy walls, each brutal thrust knocking the air out of you.

Pathetic cries of your name are muffled against your collarbone, fat tears dripping onto your skin, his hips never faltering, even when he sits up and grabs your thighs, hooking your legs over his arms, squeezing the plushness of them and letting his head fall back with a loud moan. Your own cries rise in volume and pitch at the change in angle, his tip hitting that gummy spot dead on now, your hands clenching, unable to grab onto anything.

His nails dig into your thighs now, balls smacking against your ass, the sound of your squelching pussy and your combined moans a sinful melody that has his mind reeling, leaving him hazy, only focused on the way your pussy swallows each inch of his cock with each brutal thrust. It's maddening perfection, and it has his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Babbles leave his lips, unintelligible sentences being strung together by the bulk of a man, usually so composed - yet reduced to nothing but a pussy drunk animal. "S-so good! Feels so good, baby! W-wanna cum with you, please? Let me cum with you." His body moves forward, hunching over you once more, folding you in half with your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. At yet another change in angle, your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails into the muscles, making him moan pathetically and increase his pace, pumping into you with his hands braced beside your head.

His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue tangling messily with yours, drool coating both your lips and chins, his moans and whines muffled with each drag of your tongue, brows furrowing as his orgasm steadily approaches, dangling in front of him teasingly. When he feels your pussy begin clenching around his cock, his fingers fly to your clit, rubbing the little bundle of nerves with a desperation like no other. Your cries get muffled by his shoulder when he ducks his head into your neck, crying out into your skin when your orgasm crashes over you.

His own orgasm is pulled from him suddenly, just seconds after yours, thick ropes of cum flooding your clenching pussy, sensitive walls milking him dry. With a few more ruts into you, his hips finally still, his body twitching above yours as his grip on you finally loosens, letting your legs fall to his hips, his dick pulsating in your heavenly pussy, the last few spurts and clenching of your walls making him whimper against your throat.

When he finally lifts his head from your neck, it's to peer intently at you, his eyes shiny with tears and pure adoration, his forehead slick with sweat, his hands moving up and down your sides until they find yours, his fingers lacing with yours, his spit-slicked lips parting to whisper weakly.

"Did I do good?"

KNY: Kyojuro, Sanemi...

JJK: Gojo, Geto, Choso...

AOT: Jean, Armin, Eren...

MHA: Keigo...

COD: Konig, Soap (Johnny)...

Haikyuu: Bokuto...

+ more

[sugojosgf]

begging you to post more texts between sukuna ,, they are made so accurate im in love!! :(

- 🍓

!! omg tyyyy, i honestly adore writing sukuna as a clueless old man. in my smaus, i envision him as an old soul relearning his ways ( redemption arc RAHHH ) so it's vv interesting to try to balance my own thoughts while trying not to stray into the ooc pipeline. i hope you enjoy this 🍓!!

DING! (1+) new notification !

﹒ ryōmen sukuna﹕☆ ﹟ fem · prns ㅤ࣭ ㅤׂ : ᯓ cw : fluff ! ﹐

[berriblossom]

Oh, Great Divine!

☆| It's time for a SAGAU, more so a comforting one. Reader's gender is ambiguous and gender neutral, archons adore reader, in this sense the Nahida tag is platonic!|

☆ Tags/warnings! | Socially Aware Genshin AU, archons and people of Teyvat treat the reader as a god or heavenly figure, religious references (cathedral of Mondstat and Narukami/ Sangonomiya Shrines of Inazuma) some minor lore for reader, Reader is referred to as "Their Grace" or "My/Your Grace" and "The Great Divine" ALL PORTRAYALS ARE FICTIONAL!! anyway, enjoy.|

Within the lands or nations of Teyvat, for centuries the practice of worshipping an Archon was beyond common, more so for those who wish not to believe in spiritual practices concerning the gods of each element are more on the rare side to find. However even if such existed, there was one thing to never be doubted within the lands of Teyvat.

The Great Divine's presence over mortals and immortals alike.

The creation of Teyvat in many national mythos credits the sole ideas and creation to the Great Divine. Even the archons and the sources of their celestial names were blessed upon them by their divine grace. Depending on which nation you visit, some may say that their archon is specifically blessed by their grace.

In Mondstat, the nation of wind, song, freedom, wine, and bard's ballads, once every 100 years they celebrate the freedom blessed to them by Barbatos and the Great Divine. A tradition stretching for the last millennial to show the love and deeply routed affection given by its people and archon. Yes, Barbatos, or now the "drunken" bard known as Venti among his people. Every festival of a "New Eve" as they call it, is another 100 years for him to show his affection for his beloved divine. Despite his defiance to Celestia and the natural order placed after your departure, he still fully believes in your care and love for humans and archons alike. To Venti, whispering to the wind like he did with you thousands of years prior, even in his wind-spirit form. You'd sit together where now the great tree at Windrise and speak about the future of Teyvat, something despite having the authority over you simply spoke to him as:

"For what will come, Your nation will prosper and learn the true meaning of freedom and song..."

So to this day, he sits under that tree and thinks of the years since, missing your warmth from curling up in your hands as a wind spirit to laughing and humming beside you in his divine form. He has seen it for the last few hundred years, the art, songs, plays, books, and even food and weapons made in your name, and every hundred years he repeats the same. A small prayer from his soul is whispered into the wind as he tells his deep care and love for his dear grace. And the people of Mondstat no different, all gather at the great Cathedral and warmly sing about the Great Divine and Lord Barbatos as they place to wine, food, and gifts at the altar of your image. When alone Venti will sneak in and sit under your statue, missing the warmth of your hands but relishing the love in your image.

In Liyue, the nation of Geo, contracts, and the adepti, the greats divines are influenced by the first contract Rex Lapis made with them over 7000 years ago, even before Liyue was a fully combined nation. Zhongli remembers the conversation you two had, sharing a simple game of wit and tea. Then he was immature to your influence and power but now he relishes in it. Proudly in his vast historical knowledge, preaching his love and the power the great divine holds. How you could shape the sea with a flick of your wrist, how you've created mountains from your fingertips, how your vast knowledge is spread throughout teyvat as a bible to be studied and read over and over again. But mostly what he and all of Liyue celebrate is the contractable care and affection you give him and the people of Liyue.

This time around Liyue is a time spent every hundred of years a new eve of dawn as it is called, one Zhongli and his fellow adepti never get tired of. A time to give gifts of care to neighbors, friends, and even coworkers in the busy harbor. Even the Northland Bank celebrates by lowering interest on loans!

(But only for this amount of time and by the next New Eve of Dawn the Interest WILL reset)

But mainly it is a way to give worship to the Great Divine and their trust in Rex Lapis and his Adepti to protect and serve Liyue. Everything Zhongli has done was for your gratitude and divine love. So when a New Eve comes, he sits anywhere in Liyue, the mountains, hills, somewhere to overlook the harbor, and enjoys a warm cup of tea. Your favorite while imagining your smile as you talk, the games you'd two play. He watches his disciples and Apeti celebrate with gifts, food, and songs at your altar set around Liyue. He sips his tea and awaits your fated return, happy to share more memories and stories with you.

Within the land of Eternity, formerly transcience, Inazuma's style of celebration differs slightly from some nations. The Grand Narukami Shrine would hold a private ceremony, cleansing the sacred Sakura tree and your statue underneath, barhing the precious stone engravings with crisp clean water. Meanwhile the people if Inazuma would be celebrating on their own occasions, firewroks light into the clear sky, dancing ceremonies at the teahouse fill with guest.

However, the new electro archon herself sits alone at the top of Tebshukaku. Quietly walking down memeory lane in her mind. For the last five centuries of the New Eve of Dawn celebration, she'd sit in her space of Euthymia alone in solitude quietly sulking at the idea of your everlasting figure. How her and Makoto would chat down the lane of inazuma speaking about plans of you, speaking of your visions of the nation of electro, Makoto laughing at how embarrassed Ei used to be around you and your divinity. Now Ei smiles solemnly..

She knows now that she as archon must take the mantle, for in your teachings that it the goal of the heavenly principles you've left. Fated to return, she prays that you'd come to her first. She dreams and imagines in her meditations within her quiet Euthymia that you'd hold her. That her loneliness would be cured indefinitely. But for now she waits, with a plate of dango and some ofdly colored tea, shit eats alone as the fireworks set off atop Narukami island, she whispers a promise to herself and her nation on your honor.

"For it will be fate...my grace...you shall return to us...to eternity...we shall be reunited."

Far off in the lands of eternity, however, the island that formed the resistance sings and dances around the bonfire, the resistance army of Sangonomiya and Watatsumi laugh as they praise the late OmiKami, or the serpent god Orobashi. The fire dances as troops tell stories, shrine maidens sing and laugh, and her priestess sits while holding a book. She smiles softly. Kokomi looks above at the horizon and sees the corpse of their late god, she wishes silently to herself and for her ancestors to below the sea. That once the great spirit of life and forefather of the vishaps would return to bring life to the benevolent serpent. But for now, she sits alongside Gorou as they watch the troops enjoy the holiday.

Within Sumeru, however, and alongside it, Fontaine...the New Eve of Dawn has been on the academic calendar differently, which is how some older nations react. For those in the rainforest, it is a blessing of Lessor Lords Kusanali's birth. For the dessert, it is the bringing of a new promise for the scarlet sand kings doubted return. Within the nation of dendro, it is a holiday of now academic activities, no scholars shrouded in work, but a day off. The people worship by their own will and sit in taverns, bars, and cafes to drink mereily while chatting with friends. Some visit your altar within the Akademiya, and others pray at home.

Nahida sits on a branch of the great tree that houses the knowledge many wish to obtain, in her hands an ancient seed of fate, she herself has no memory or knowledge of where it came but holds ot and teasures its existence. For she has a kindling that it is tied to this divine spirit that is expected to awaken. From her small conversation with Apep, the seed is treasured. Hence, she holds it and feeds the growing plant bits of dendro elemental energy. She sighs as she watches the sun set and the cheers from the streets and grand bazars performances. Nilou must be dancing now, she thinks. She hums a small song while kicking her feet, her hands warm with caution. She may not know you yet, but she knows already... Your spirit and divine will watch for her and her nation. The goddess of wisdom has many questions for the great creator of this world, but for now, she just hums and sits happily, a great birthday gift indeed.

Meanwhile, in Fontaine, similarly, it is deemed a weekend off of work. Many go home, some go to the Opera to catch performances of the holiday, others read tabloids of the steambird that some random person in the court has the great divine in their basment all along. All fiction truthfully. Furina reads her book as she makes another plate of pasta macaroni. For the occasion, she bought extra special ragau to taste amazing. She dances around her kitchen listening to soft music. For years her mind would have doubted and even hated this day, anxious fears of disappointment and disapproval looks from her days as stabding archon. Would you have hated her? Did you think she failed fontaine and you? Was her a cursed human taking title of archon an insult to you? Furina had nightmares even of the prohecy and your return to see fontaine gone and underwater. But now, as the prophecy and fontaine were safe and out of fear, she ate and asked a good question this new century.

"What kind of pasta would their grace like..."

Soft rainfall drops onto the steps of the Palais Mermonia, the evening rain was forcasfed but welcomed, Neuvillette wrote on the papers softly, agreeing to a few celebratory events the Opera wanted to hold. Usually Lady Furina would be jumping for the task but here he was. Dread builded in his soul. This time of year brought many pains to Neuvillette.

A new century meant a new set of hundreds of years he gets to oulive humans, melusines maybe, but also the clock inches closer and closer to your return. Neuvillette spent early years of his lofe researching and discovering his species and kind for decades. Figuring that if you are the forefather and creator of vishaps and the sovereignty. Why was so many things done the way they were? Why ddi the power the gnosis and archons hold come from them? Why can't he understand your implications, even such his ancestors didn't wish to think against? What power do you hold and how did aid Fontaine in the end? He knew Focalor and Egeria spoke to you, even asking for forgiveness before your departure, so why? Neuvillette, places his pen downs and stands to look out the window of his office to look down at the streets of the Court of Fontaine, a glass of crisp water swirls in his hand. He sips slowly and sighs, coming to think.

"In this new century...please with it, may you come along too my grace."

In the nation of fire, victory, war and passion, raors could be heard from the stadium of flames as people of different tribes shouted and cheered the competitions down below. Surfing races, climbing achievements, conbat bouts, even break dancing competitions held. Mavuika sits at her throne above as her people cheer and celebrate, raising glasses, foods, gifts, and money even in your image. She slips away from the fesitivites to be alone in the speakers chambers, past the sacred flame, and into her personal get-away. Now empty, she stares at the famous wheel of the sun, Natlan has held for centuries, the same you blessed the first pyro archon with, as their rules of ruilibg were left in your favor. She smiles as she too holds her head high, similar to her ancestors before her.

She remebers before she was even archon, how her parents would tell stories of the Great divines influence, love, and power. That the spirit of victory belongs to the pyro archon yes, but the strength was given by you as well. She remembered your fave engraved in ancients temples and stones around Natlan and now some statues around the lands too. She knows too well her nation is blessed by your, not only for the peoples cheers and vitcories but the long-lasting stay they've had against the threat of the abyss thus far. Maybe when you return and ward off the abyssal threats for good, she top could ask something of you...for that she won't know until she sees you herself.

"Until we meet my grace...may your memeory burn eternal.. and your power live within my people."

-> Did i go overboard, yes...but eh...hoped you enjoy, and also i may make a small series out of this..who knows..

[filmnoirsbian]

August Peaches

[strwbrythoughts]

no stopping a man in love | alhaitham

In which the traveler and Paimon catches Alhaitham indulging in something unexpected.

A/N: I might as well make this whole blog dedicated to Alhaitham because man's got my heart in a chokehold :(

Divider by @/osqrie

The House of Daena was filled with the sounds of pages turned over and the quick footsteps of the students flitting from one bookcase to another. Furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips decorated each of their faces. The librarian seemed stressed out to navigate the flurry of students and assist them in finding books. Even a stranger could tell the obvious; examination season was right around the corner.

Alhaitham, the ex-Acting Grand Sage and current Scribe of the Akademiya, had his eyes glued onto his surroundings. Though his expression remained neutral, he couldn't deny the feeling of annoyance building up inside him. The library was way too noisy to be called one. It was a good thing that he was enjoying his read so far. Though, the choice of reading fiction was something that not a lot of people would expect from him.

Yes, he had a book titled "The Genius Falls in Love!" nestled in his hands.

He didn't really catch the eye of anyone. After all, it wasn't weird that the Scribe would spend his day in the library instead of his office. His work hours were long but he never really complied to them. That was something that the students were mighty jealous of. What they didn't know, however, was that his work was always submitted on time with the highest quality. A trait that most of them could only hope to achieve.

Alhaitham put on his noise-cancelling earphones. His eyes relaxed slightly as he could focus better on the book in his hand. He was already on chapter 22. An impressive amount of reading, given that he only received the book that morning.

His body rested fully onto the chair he sat on. He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet smile his wife gave him as she handed him the book.

'Here, honey!' she exclaimed, shoving a book into his hands. 'If you miss me at work, read this book I wrote! And tell me how it went, yeah?'

From the moment he stepped out of their shared house, he flipped the book open. 'Ridiculous,' he thought to himself. 'I always miss you when you're not by my side.'

And so off he went. He finished all the work he deemed urgent enough on that day, before immediately going back to reading. It was quite the comical sight, really. The stoic genius reading a fictional book? A romance, at that? Impossible. Utterly ridiculous.

And yet, here he was.

The work day passed by so quickly when he spent it reading. Before he knew it, the librarian came over to his spot and told him that the library was closing. Alhaitham immediately got up and left to go home.

--

The walk back was quiet and peaceful enough. The mere sight of his wife's face as she greeted him at the door was enough to make a smile appear on his face, no matter how slight.

"Honey! How was work today? What did you eat during lunch? Did you have time to read my book?" It was expected that his wife would bombard him with questions the moment he came home. However, she was special in every way. For instance, he would always answer each question she had calmly, no matter how frequent or stupid they may be.

"I'm back. Work was completed like usual today. I ate the lunch you prepared for me, and I'm halfway through your book, my dear."

His wife giggled at the thought of her husband taking some time out of his busy day to read her work. What she didn't know was that his day was scheduled around her, and never around anything else.

Until the traveler and Paimon had some interesting news to bring to her.

--

"Traveler, look! Is Alhaitham reading...a romance?"

Paimon's voice bounced off the walls of the House of Daena. She had successfully captured the eyes of many students, causing the traveler to put their hand over their head. Perhaps to block a headache induced by her lack of realisation that they were in the library.

Paimon's hands flew over her mouth right after the words were uttered. Her eyes seemed apologetic enough, darting over to the traveler as a silent apology. The traveler merely shot her an awkward smile.

It was a good thing that Alhaitham himself did not pay them any mind. The way his ears perked up slightly showed that he indeed heard Paimon, but perhaps chose to ignore them. However, the eyes glued to his person was quite bothersome, even for someone as stoic as him.

He shut the book in his hands quite loudly, hinting his irritation at Paimon. She only gulped and shot a panicked expression at the traveler, who deadpanned at her. The both of them stood still as they heard Alhaitham's footsteps approach them. He was getting closer and closer with each thud of his footsteps.

"I would appreciate if you did not point out whatever business unrelated to you." His voice was calm, just like his expression. His eyes told a different story all together. The traveler's flying companion could only apologise repeatedly, while the traveler shot him an apologetic smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence between the trio, the Scribe walked away from the both of them. His right hand carried the romance book he was reading quite delicately, as if it was his most precious treasure. And it truly was.

Anything related to his wife was a treasure to him, and he would never forgive himself if he failed to appreciate even the simplest things about her.

--

"...and that was it! He seemed really annoyed that the Akademiya students were looking at him curiously." Paimon ended her story to Alhaitham's wife. She merely chuckled at the tale.

"Of course he was. He dislikes people getting into his business after all."

"Are you sure he isn't acting like that because he's embarrassed about getting caught reading something so...unexpected, of him?" The traveler furrowed their eyebrows as their companion asked such question with no hesitation. She really needed to learn to read the room sometimes.

Before she could answer, Alhaitham embraced his wife from behind. His eyes were calm, as if having his wife in his arms was all it took to make him feel tranquil.

"Do you really think I'd be reading such book in public if I were to be 'embarrassed' about it? Moreover, how could my lovely wife ever make me feel embarrassed?"

That was more than enough of an answer for the traveler and Paimon. They smiled sweetly at the response. The smiles were short lived, however, as Alhaitham sent them both out of his house, wanting to be alone with his wife.

Ah, well. There's no stopping a man in love, is there?

Thank you for reading! <3

[berriethewizard]

Parley - Champion of Blood au

Masterpost

The parley is set in motion at noon. The pitiless desert sun beating down upon their backs, sand kicking up and battering their cheeks, squinting their eyes - they stand opposed on this canyon cliff, mere metres from each other. Zelda and her two dozen knights, the best of the best, facing lone Ganondorf, leaning up against a boulder ever so casually.

Meeting his gaze fills her with the dread of being outmatched anyway.

The fiery beams of noon light catch the gold pouldrens on her shoulders, the clasps of her prayer bracelets, and the decorated limbs of her bow, resting in her hand with an arrow nocked but not drawn. He holds no weapon at all. Nothing but his own arrogance.

“Surely this is overkill, Princess. This is a peaceful meeting.”

“Behind enemy lines, it will always treat you better to be prepared, Ganondorf.”

His face twists into a smile.

“As you see fit. Now,” He dismissively waves his hand, “Lay out your terms, and I shall see if they are agreeable.”

She retrieves a scroll from her right hand knight - a newer addition to her ranks, but suitable - and begins reading from the script upon it. Most of these are terms laid out by her father, and she can tell in the endless specifics and caveats and compromises that litter it. If it were truly her prerogative, she would throw away all acts of diplomacy and run the Demon King through here and now. But with their recent loss of… weaponry, they cannot afford to be rash. As such, here she is, borderline pleading with the unreasonable.

Half of the way through the scroll, she hears the clashing of metal, and pauses her reading immediately. Only a whistle of the wind greets her ears in the silence.

“Is there a problem, your highness?”

“...no.”

“Then please, stop wasting my time.”

She hesitantly continues on, ears up to catch anything more. Nothing but the whistling.

When the scroll is finally read through, Zelda returns it to her knight’s hand and faces Ganondorf once more.

“If you do not agree to these terms, Hyrule will commence a total blockade of the Gerudo deserts immediately. No trade will come through your canyons until either you surrender to our terms, or you die of starv–”

A shadow rounds the edge of the boulder behind Ganondorf. A short figure, lithe and graceful, draped in the same garb as the Demon King. When his face enters the light, she chokes on her words.

The sundered hero stares, cold and unblinking.

He stalks to Ganondorf’s side, welcomed by a smile that is too small to be anything but sickeningly genuine, and a hand trailing down to his hip that is borderline intimate. He's near dripping with blood, from his hands to his hair far longer than the Hyrule Military approved three inches, like he'd dipped them in the crimson like a child over eagerly playing in a pool of water. The Demon King pays it no mind as he gently tucks the half white, half blonde strands behind his ear, ensuring the scar stretching the length of his face and cutting through his eye is plainly visible to Zelda and her men.

The sundered hero does not break his eyes away from her once.

“It seems, Princess, that your preparations for this meeting were in vain. I do not agree to your terms, but you will find in the canyons no blockade that harm my people.”

The sundered hero takes a step forward.

“I suggest you turn tail and run, before you have no men left to save you. I’m very reluctant to deny my Champion of Blood much of anything - and least of all revenge.”

She gapes for one single moment more, before very quickly remembering her place both politically and physically, and taking her only chance of survival while she still can. Zelda bows to the King.

“We shall be seeing each other again, Ganondorf. Do not doubt this.” She retreats with her knights circling her completely, back to the path that will surely lead to a pile of bodies.

Zelda only feels the eyes of the Champion of Blood leave her back when there’s the ever so gentle smacking of lips that meet her ears.

[blueberrybeomgyu]

i just read your taesan and myungjae sub fics and OMGGGGGG….. i’m about to rip my hair out those were so good😭😭 CAN I PLEASEEE request a LEEHAN SUB FIC 😭😭 where’s he’s just absolutely down bad for the reader PLSSS

heck yes!!! i haven't been really in the mood to write full fics lately, so im just gonna put down some ideas?? and maybe i'll turn it into something later!! if you want somethin abt leehan edging himself, lmk and i'll write it for you!!

* I'm ofc thinking roommate!leehan who acts indifferent to you but is actually obsessed with you, like his crush on you runs sooo deep

* sometimes you walk past him and he gets a whiff of whatever fragrance you have on, something so sweet it almost makes his head hurt, and he's immediately addicted to the smell. when you're not home, he sneaks in your room and steals something from your hamper -- a tshirt, a hoodie, anything with your scent baked into it

* he does unholy things to himself with his face buried in whatever fabric he could get his hands on, and later, when you ask him if he's seen these things, his poker face is so good you don't even second guess him

* but that isn't enough, and soon, he needs more. you guys begin building a closer friendship, and he's always been flirty, but he also becomes more handsy, giving you backhugs and shoving his face in your neck, he can't help himself, the scent is so much stronger straight from the source

* one day when you're out, he's so desperate for release that he finds himself in your bed, head buried in your pillow as he fucks the mattress pathetically. his pants are pulled down just low enough so that he can rub his dick against the soft fabric of your duvet, and the feeling has his eyes rolling back into his head. your scent is so strong in your room, hitting him from all corners, and he's so lost in the pleasure that he doesn't hear you enter

* you call out his name but he doesn't hear you, so you walk over to him and tap his shoulder. you're standing with your arms crossed and your hip out. you haven't even said anything, but your unamused facial expression has him feeling so needy, and the embarrassment of being caught makes his skin hot all over, and he's soaking your blankets with his cum before he can stop himself

* post-nut clarity has him apologizing profusely, immediately, but he's stunned with you press a finger to his lips to shush him.

* your own fantasies about leehan have often drifted from family-friendly, so you push him back against the bed and straddle him. after all, he's been so naughty, doesn't he deserve a punishment?

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : bbbg leehan overstim fic when???

[quotefeeling]

With every act of self care your authentic self gets stronger, and the critical, fearful mind gets weaker. Every act of self care is a powerful declaration: I am on my side; each day I am more and more on my side.

Susan Weiss Berry

[bodhrancomedy]

I love WWDITS and Matt Berry’s line delivery.

[thehopefulquotes]

Don’t let the same dog bite you twice.

Chuck Berry

[thoughtkick]

Don’t let the same dog bite you twice.

Chuck Berry