#blue is definitely their colour so I made it all with a blue theme

[devil-doll13]

omg

Cylas and Max moodboard? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

just in general, or maybe at the concert? I think both concert but also just fandom chatting vibes are cool.

they're just so 🥺❤️

This was a good opportunity to repurpose some pics I ended up not using for my first moodboard for Cylas! I hope you like it, I did both the concert and internet chatting themes that you asked for as well as general aesthetics for both of them.

(Cylas belongs to @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better and Max belongs to me)

[keeps-ache]

buttered noodles 💫💛🍜

[xxblairexxss]

Fluffy child

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 2.1k

A/N : Not really sure about this one. Sorry if it’s not up to your expectation, anon!

Requested!

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"Baby, I need to go now!"

"Wait!" You yelled back and picked up your fluffy son in your arms before making your way to your boyfriend, who was all prepared to leave with his small luggage. "Teddy said bye!”

He cackled as you waved the fluffy hand while the cat was looking very unamused as he was forced to wear the shirt. "Where did you get that?”

It was a toddler size Ferrari shirt with the number 16 at the back that you ordered months ago. "From a random website! Isn’t it cute? He liked it!” You squealed and kissed Teddy’s cheek.

"I don’t think he likes it, baby. Look at the face. He’s definitely giving you a side eye.” You laughed at your boyfriend’s horrible attempt to copy the expression. "I need to go now. I love you."

"There you go.” Teddy rolled down on the floor as you crouched to place him down before wrapping your arms around Charles’ neck as he kissed you on the cheek. "I’ll miss you!"

"I’ll miss you more. Teddy, don’t get used to my absence; it’ll only be 4 days."

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"Yeah, definitely. I mean—" Charles’ attentiveness to the conversation snapped when his phone rang. A smile instantly lit up his face when he saw the heart emoji at the end of the contact’s name. He usually got a few pictures of Teddy, your cat, every day, more if he was away. There were more pictures of the cat himself than your pictures in his phone by now.

Scooting the chair a little further away from Lando and Alex, he swiped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear, anticipating your voice. "Hey, baby!"

"Charles, he's gone…"

He frowned, unable to catch the words. Your voice was shaking, and there were a lot of voices where he was currently. "Sorry, baby. I didn’t hear you. What was that?"

"Teddy’s gone…" 

He heard you sniffle and choppy breathing, making his hand itching to hold you in his arms right now.

"Charles, where are you going?” Lando called out after seeing the Ferrari driver stand up abruptly.

"My room." That was all he said as he left the table and made his way to the driver’s room, away from anyone else so he could hear you clearly.

Teddyy was a kitten you found outside a library back when you were a student. He came to the family at an early stage of the relationship. Charles always preferred a dog, but you managed to change his mind, or maybe he was forced to change his mind because wherever you were, Teddy would be by your side. Even in bed. So he never really got to say no to the fluff of cloud. He was very vocal and proud of being a dad as well. In fact, people would always ask him about Teddy more than himself whenever he bumped into the fans. It surely felt like Teddy was slowly taking over the spotlight.

You woke up yesterday morning and headed to the kitchen to do your daily routine, which was to feed your child. There should be a mini-race between you and him about who got to reach the kitchen first, and he would have blasted out his vocal chords to alarm the whole apartment that he required food right there and then, but yesterday was different. He was just lying down on his bed, looking so weak that you had to bring him to the emergency vet. You stayed at the vet for hours up until he got surgery, alone and unable to ring Charles due to the time difference. It was 2 hours after the surgery that the vet told you he passed away due to the stress that the surgery caused. You were told he suffered from a disease that could be infected by a virus that was hard to detect, and it wasn’t your fault, but it definitely felt like it. You haven’t slept; you couldn’t look at his blue-coloured glass bowl without crying, and you needed Charles.

He didn’t say anything throughout the video call, which lasted for at least an hour. You were filling him up with everything that happened with your puffy eyes, messy hair bun with your knitted cardigan, and looking like a divorced housewife who couldn’t move on from their cheater husband.

"I’m all good now. A little sad," You sniffed and wiped the tears with your oversized sweatshirt sleeve that was a little darker in colour from being used as a replacement for a tissue. "but I’m good."

Charles smiled, his heart swelling from seeing the way you tried to play it off just so he wouldn’t have to worry too much. “Are you sure you are okay, angel? I can stay on the phone longer. They don’t need me until 3, at least.” His gaze went to the top left of his phone screen. It was 2:57 PM.

"No, it’s okay." You brought the phone closer and managed a smile after seeing the way he looked at you. "Good luck."

"I love you, precious. I’ll probably arrive by midnight. You don’t have to wait for me, alright?"

You rubbed your eyes, nodding to his question before waving as he ended the call. The brown, printed blanket was back clinging to your body as you turned yourself into a cocoon and scrolled through pictures of Teddy while F1TV was airing on your television with just a few hours to go before the race.

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Everything had to make the loudest sound when he needed to be quiet. The sound of his shoe against the floor, which was usually silent as the grave, had to be the loudest ever at this hour. The sound of something shuffling against the floor made him whip his head as fast as he could towards the hallway, as soon as he closed the door.

"Baby?"

The shuffling sound came faster and louder as he made his way deeper into the dark hallway and stumbled back as you threw yourself against him. Too fast that he didn’t catch a glimpse of your body coming.

“F—you scared me.” He breathed out, and his arm went around your petite frame. He didn’t turn on the light because you often fell asleep on the couch, and he would hate himself for waking you up, but every sound in the dark would be connected to a burglar. He would have thrown a kick if he hadn’t caught the lavender scent from your body wash as you crashed into him earlier. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was waiting for you." 

The thumping sound filled the silence as he let go of the bag he was holding with his other hand as he held you when you started crying in his arms. "Baby…"

It felt like you had drained out every salty liquid you had left because you were dehydrated after soaking Charles’ black shirt with your tears. You were flushed red when he cackled at you as you apologised for the mess.

"You should change out of this." He jerked back as you tugged on the shirt.

"Don’t be silly. Baby, stop trying to strip me. This is an assault."

You tugged on it again. "Go and change! It probably has my snot on it."

"Okay, and?"

"It’s disgusting!" 

"Just tell me if you want to see my body. There’s no need to make up an excuse.” You rolled your eyes and left the kitchen while Charles waited for the linguine noodles to cook.

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"Is it done?”

You looked adorable with the puffy eyes and his hoodie, which seemed to be twice the size of your body, but Charles refused to say it out loud because you would turn down the compliment as if he were making fun of you. "It’s done, but it’s mine.” He had eaten earlier on the plane, but he didn’t have to ask to know you hadn’t eaten anything. He knew you from the back of his hand. He also knew you wouldn’t say no to your favourite food, butter pasta, so even when you told him you weren’t hungry, he still ended up cooking the food just because he wanted you to eat.

"Can I have a bite?” You wished he didn’t hear your stomach grumble.

Your phone was placed on your lap as he feed you a mouthful so as you leaned in, and he caught a glance of a recent picture of you and Teddy on your screen. He hadn’t really gotten to ask why or what happened because it didn’t seem like you were ready for it. All he knew was that you had to bring him to the emergency room because he wasn’t responding well, and that was it. "Baby, what happened?"

"It was my fault.” You sighed, frustrated with yourself, as you pressed the bottom part of your palm against your eyes to stop the tears.

Charles placed his hand on your waist, and you felt him keep stroking his thumb against it while you tried to gather your emotions. "I should have known something was wrong when he didn’t really want to eat his food two days ago, but I thought it was because of the new brand of food that I recently bought. I’m such a bad mom."

He took the plate away before drawing you into his arms. "You were the best owner any cat could ask for, baby. There are some things that are beyond our control. It wasn’t your fault. We even bought him for a monthly checkup. We did everything we could. You weren’t neglecting him just because you couldn’t detect his sickness early. He was looking fine even before I left."

"I miss him so much..." 

"I know, precious. I know." The screen of your phone lights up again from a light touch of your clothes. "How about you show me pictures of him that I haven’t seen?"

"Won’t it be boring?” You wiped your tears with your sleeves again as you went to your photo album and scrolled through thousands of pictures and videos of him throughout the year. "Have you seen this one?"

"Which one?" He pulled you closer as you laid on his chest.

"This one." You chuckled and clicked on the play button. "It was when I bought a new mouse toy for him, and he was so excited that he fell off the bed from chasing it."

He was listening to you attentively until you asked to go to sleep. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept at all, even on the plane on his way back to fight the jet lag. He nearly fell asleep standing while he was waiting for the block of butter to melt against the pan, but it was worth it to joke around, to lighten up the mood, to lend you his shoulder, ears, and shirt to soak your tears with because as he stepped into the house, he knew he had a responsibility as your boyfriend. Sleep could wait; he would be happy to watch the same video of Teddy just from different angles a hundred times if that was what made you smile.

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Charles squinted his eyes as he caught you walking back to the car with a paper bag of fruits on your left hand and something fluffy on your right. The door to the shotgun seat was opened as you got in, and the fluffy thing you were holding meowed.

He had a lot of questions, but he didn’t know where to start. He thought you said you wanted to drop by the supermarket real quick to get some fruits, and he just had to wait in the car. What was supposed to be 20 minutes turned out to be longer than that. He even had to call you to ask why you were taking so long and if you needed his help, to which you said no, and now you brought in a fluffy, moving animal as if it were part of the fruits.

"Baby, what…did you buy?“

"Oh!" You let go of the kitten and took out the small packets of everything inside the paper bag. "I bought strawberries! Blueberries and some bananas. I also got some marshmallows!”

"And what is that?” Charles arched his brow, eyes on the kitten on your lap.

"Which one?" You tilted your head.

“That..?”

“Oh! It’s a kitten!” You beamed.

"Ah, it’s a kitten! I wouldn’t have guessed. Y/N, did you think you could sneak in a kitten in the car and I wouldn’t find out about it?” He was so lost for words that he ended up chuckling.

"I found Boo on the side of the street!” You picked the kitten up and booped on the nose.

"Who is Boo? It has a name already?" 

"Can we take her, please? Please, please! I can’t just leave her on the street. She was hungry too!” You cradled the kitten against your chest and tried not to make any eye contact with your boyfriend so that he would just accept his fate and drive home. “Look at the face! She reminds me of Teddy!”

"Well, she has a name already. Let’s just go home, Boo."

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[ashmouthbooks]

2023 in books

better late than never, right?

2023 was a relatively slow year for me in bookbinding, but I still made 30+ books. (ask me how much time I spent on my other hobbies and it becomes clear why books were fewer.)

A5 books

the first A5 of the year was an entry for a bookbinding competition (which I didn't win), where the theme was climate change. I had a lot of fun putting it together and it was the first time I made an A5 tête-bêche book - I usually do these A6 or A7 size.

this was also the year I decided to start a collection of menocchio fics, which also led to experiments with printing directly onto bookcloth to get titles on the spine

what's fun about bookbinding is that you can Just Make A Book, but you can also Get Ideas And Run With Them with it. which is how I wound up with this black on black book. destiel necromancy fic, because of course it is

going back to something more colourful...Ulysses. not the James Joyce one, the slowburn 00Q one. named for a Tennyson poem.

final A5 book of the year is my Renegade Exchange book, which I bound for Silent Sun Press - a Crowley-centric genfic with outsider POV, so naturally I went for TV!Gomens colour schemes

A6 and A7 books

I started the year ambitiously - in addition to entering a competition, I started my urchin specials project. thus far I've still only bound these first three books for the project, but I plan to do more. first dustjackets as well!

I continued with the no-glue pamphlets and did three

I joined the Tiny Books Exchange, and as a proof of concept - before I typeset an A7 sized tête-bêche - I did a little tête-bêche of the two Temeraire fics I wrote for yuletide once upon a time

then followed of course the Tiny Book I bound for the exchange - my copy (test & proof of concept, bottom), the giftee copy (green, top right), and the author copy (blue, top left)

I typeset a lot more than I bind - I have plans to bind so and so, so I typeset it, but don't always have the time to bind it right away. so I have folders full of typesets ready to go at a moment's notice. this one was typeset a whole year before I bound it

are these paperbacks or just very slim hardbacks? I call them paperbacks as I used 0.5mm boards and they have no spine, but ymmv

this one definitely is a hardback - with slightly thicker boards, a spine, and two fics in one book. I do love those tête-bêches

at my work we have a lot of deliveries wrapped in this nice recycled brown paper that was just going into the recycling bin, and I thought: why not make books out of it? so I played around with it (and my printer) and came up with a neat aesthetic for paperbacks with breakaway spines (using 0.5mm boards)

will I ever stop with the tête-bêches? no. also this one has endpapers made from SEAWEED. how cool is that?

the last A6 of the year is this little collection of my own stories for a tiny Danish fandom. detectives and trauma, but make it about food? yes. food and cooking themed endpapers and cover papers, and the dustjacket has fake coffee stains on it. perfect

and that is all, folks. I did a lot of different styles and types of binding this year, I had fun with it, I learned a lot, and I'm happy with what I've created.

[honeymaki]

𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 .｡.:*･

Warnings: mentions of bodily harm, oral sex (f → receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, unneeded religious themes, mentions of body hair; reader has a hydro vision and is from Inazuma.

Words: 6k

Characters: Cyno; mentions of Tighnari as a reluctant tutor.

→ Notes: this is my first fic in honest to god years, proper thought out all consuming insane in the head fic; and I am proud of this.

The heat of Sumeru was different to the heat of Inazuma, the sweet smelling summers and the cool touch of the vast ocean on your toes were now just memories wisping like the steam that rose from streams, and the breeze that picked up the morning dew drops from leaves larger and thicker than any you had ever seen.

Inazuma summers meant blue ice pops and sweet milk beverages, lounging in you underclothes on the veranda, fanning yourself and whoever was your companion for the day, sucking on juicy melon slices and watching the fishermen bring in their catch of the day down by the shore, the crystal waves just beckoning you in for a much needed swim. The heat there was bearable, almost, with the promise of a fiery red autumn to follow if the sun got high enough and always smelling oh so sweet in the evenings when restaurants and common folk would move their cooking outdoors, smoke from the barbeques dancing in the mellow breeze like rice plumes in their paddy fields, carrying drippings of fat and roasted lavender melons to your nose. If the night was just right, you could just catch the slow baking of Tomoki’s dango, sweet rice cakes lathed with caramel or a soy glaze, both welcomed after hours wandering the slopes beneath Narakumi. 

Sumeru summers, despite only experiencing a few in your recent years, were so stiflingly different and yet, a gentle reminder of what it was like back home. It was definitely - wetter with sweltering days that made it hard to breathe and made way for almost frigid nights, dew settling fat and heavy over the land, clouds gathering to tease a storm but only showering a gentle drizzle. The sprawling fields and jagged islands of Inazuma made way for the jungles and vast forests of Sumeru, sunlight dappled and sparkling no matter the time of day, shining through leaves and spider webs and flowers you had yet to name, catching in the estuaries and ponds snaking across the landscape. And the desert, dry and barren with the formidable beast in the sky baring down at all moments, was teaming with the same greenery as your new residence. You didn’t often venture past Caravan Ribat and the few times you did travel there, the sun was shielded behind great hanging cloths and rugs of immense beauty, some old and worn and some witnessing their first day protecting the residents and travellers of the threshold of the desert. Though the shade and protection of the trees was much more suited to you and your gentle memories of Inazuma, flitting from branch to branch the way you used to with the sea caves and shipwrecks of your home.

Sumeru summers meant ripe Zaytun peaches and crunchy radishes pickled with chilli and mint, sipping on lukewarm water from your pouch but wading through ice cold streams to document new outcrops of lotus’. It meant the constant shout of brightly coloured birds beyond your window, the low hum of traders passing through and offering their wares, the enticing aroma of curries and unleavened breads, both sitting heavy and comfortingly in your belly after every sweltering excursion. 

There were times you missed Inazuma, deeply and painfully, but as it was, fate had called you beyond the services to the Shogunate and beyond the great sea which had previously been barred. The lifting of the decree saw a mass migration of people, some back to their original homes and many off to new, including yourself in the form of a letter from the Akademiya offering to school you in the great city of Sumeru. 

That summer saw your first sea voyage, and your last taste of Inazuman sweetness for many years. The Akademiya was good to you, one of the first Inazumans in an age to study among their natives, bringing your knowledge of Inazuman biology and medicine to their foresight and introducing them to a world of eternity and strange new ways to ferment soybeans. It was difficult to grow accustomed to their culture, their ways and laws, and their itchy uniforms, preferring the loose garb that the forest rangers wore, their bows and their nimble knowledge. Studying under the Amurta discipline was a gentle reminder of home, reading about all sorts from around Teyvat, wishing so dearly to travel even beyond Sumeru to see it all for yourself; sitting at your desk in the early hours of the morning dreaming of the mountains of Liyue and the beauty of the Qingxin that you would find, wondering what it would be like to swim in the waters of Fontain and venture among the ancient forests of Mondstadt. Your love of the forest, of all things green and living and thriving sent you to Gandarva Villa, under the apparently famed and somewhat reluctant mentorage of Tighnari. Reluctant in that upon reading your thesis and realising that you had already submitted your first manuscript, and concluding that he had little idea of the basis of your study and that you had already nearly finished it entirely. 

Inazuma had been closed off, shut to any and all outsiders for a generation, prompting only theories and wild ideas about your archon and her dealings; which lead to a dramatic decline in knowledge flowing from her shores, not only technologically but also botanically. Growing your first successful lavender melon on a rickety trellis in your front garden was talked about for weeks, fuelled only by your multiple displays of how one could cook, eat and utilise it. Food from Inazuma was indeed traded in the cities, but many of the forest rangers rarely ventured into the winding, bustling streets so in between studying and writing up a new version of your manuscript; you took it upon yourself to grow as much as you could from home to share with your new and beloved friends. And the Sumeru summers were the perfect growing conditions to do this, spending your pink and orange evenings pruning the naku weed and spreading straw beneath the amakuno fruits, tending to the delicate blooms of your unsuccessful dendrobiums. 

Which is where you found yourself one calm and thankfully cool evening after feasting with your companions. Knelt on the grass, books and papers surround you and your distinct annoyance, chewing your lip and pondering on the answers you finally found regarding your one nemesis. A single sprout curls and threatens to wither before you, rejecting the sprinkle of water you summon from your palm, looking very sorry for itself; a sad reflection of its carer, 

“I didn’t think I’d have to resort to such sinful methods little one,” you grumble, theory confirmed by the pocketbook of your own writing completed some years ago, “But I promised Tighnari and he looks really silly when he pouts,” as if your words would suddenly spark the sprout into blooming, a crumb of soil instead shuddered and dropped from its crisped leaf in defeat. A creature called out in the distance, wind blew gently through the valley and rustled your papers, concealing the staggering breaths of a person advancing on your delicate little world, and concealing the unsheathing of a small pocket knife. It was clear your intention, fuelled by your field notes and the archived history of Nazuchi Beach, and in a dramatic display; you held your hand out over the sorrowful sprout with the blade kissing your skin. 

A hiss of breath and the nicking pain never came, pressure and a grunt revealed a hand holding your wrist far from the shining lick of the knife. 

“What exactly are you doing?” the familiarity of that gruff voice causes a chill to ripple down your spin, hanging your head with heat in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it was Inazuman custom to sacrifice oneself to plants, dead ones at that,”

“I wasn’t going to entirely sacrifice myself, these plants grow only where blood has been spilt and I'm not going to ask someone else to do it for me, or start a war like they did back home so I figured -,” turning to face him, something catches you off guard. It wasn’t unusual for the General Mahamtra to pass through the valley, even stay for a few nights with his fellows, but it was unusual that he seemed - not quite right, despite still gripping you and staring at you with unimpressed judgement. So much so that you abruptly ended your swotty explanation and tried to pull away from him, to no avail,

“Are you okay? You look kind of unwell?” voice gentle and curious, causing Cyno to tighten his grip on your wrist even more, “Ah ! - you’re hurting me,”

“Where is Tighnari? I need to see him, something has happened…I’ve done something regreful,” even though he seemed to have been speaking perfectly fine a few seconds ago, Cyno suddenly sounded a thousand miles away and almost intoxicated. Eyes glancing around furtively, searching for nothing and everything, specifically your reluctant mentor who currently -,

“He’s away right now, Liyue - ow ! - there was a cooking event he wanted to go to and so I asked if he could pick me up some Violetgrass and also some starconches,” you say through your teeth, struggling out of his grasp and rubbing your wrist, squinting at his figure in the doctor-ish way Tighnari taught you. All of a sudden, he didn’t look much like a General Mahamatra, or even a matra; trying desperately to hide the sways in his body and the shaking of this fists held tightly by his side, tongue dipping out of his mouth to lap at the beads of sweat rolling down his upper lip, eyes red and rimmed dark. Words seem to be a loss for him at the news, swallowing thickly and looking down at his feet, toes digging into the carefully curated moss of your garden,

“What did you eat?” your sharp question stuns him out of his stupor for a moment, scrambling to your feet to assess him properly, “Or drink, but I assume it was something edible that has you sweating like the grand sage in a brothel,”

“Don’t - ,” he spits, “Don’t mock me,” you step back, hands up in submission, face shining with the want to help, 

“I wasn’t Cyno, I promise, Tighnari isn’t here right now so I’m going to help you, but I need you to answer my questions so I can do that,” it occurred to you for a moment that as the General, Cyno probably knew about his friend’s little excursion and yet, came straight to you instead of the Akademiya. But a sharp exhale banished that thought from your mind, 

“In the North, near Vanarana, there were Fatui breaking protocol,” at the mention of the mysterious and mostly unmapped region, you usher Cyno into your humble hut, drawing the wicker shutters and lighting a candle in the dwindling dusk, “they had stolen goods - crests from all over Teyvat, mostly food from Inazuma, some kind of mushroom …,” 

“Oh Cyno, we have both told you never to -,”

“Yeah, yeah, never eat something I can’t name, I know; but it looked like a starshroom, it was glowing and I can obviously name that so, I ate it,” sinking into a chair, Cyno suddenly looked pale in the candlelight, wiping sweat from his brow and shifting his hips beneath your scrutinising gaze,

“Did you say it was glowing? You ate a glowing mushroom?” this was hardly the time for jesting but you couldn’t help but grin, vanishing in a second under Cyno’s scowl, “Tighnari is going to be so mad at you, I thought it was obvious not to go around tasting things that glowed! We teach that to children! And newcomers who have never seen anything like it before,” your berating is only half serious, rummaging around you various knapsacks and baskets for the ingredient you needed to ease his pain, handing him a strip of dried something or other with a kind look, “Chew on this, it should stop the pain in a few seconds but just hang tight okay? I’ll take care of you,”

As much of a mother you seemed around those who made mistakes, berating them sharply before showing them the right way or the solution; Cyno almost felt like a lover to you in the way you cupped his jaw to make sure he was indeed chewing on the bark, stroking the tops of his cheekbones and the round of his collar in search of a rash, fingers soft and methodical, loving in a way he was unsure of whether you used towards other patients. He watched you work, content with his stabilising condition and preparing some kind of drink, back facing him and sweetly busy at your workbench. You were so precise and aged in your movements, picking the right herb and concoction without having to think, mixing them perfectly into a hand thrown cup with an extra spoonful of something for good measure,

“Here,” you sat down in the chair next to him, pressing a cool palm to his forehead beneath his headpiece, “I put some sugar in it to make it a little easier to drink, m’fraid I didn’t have any lavender melon syrup left,” the cup is heavy when you push it towards him, eyes curious and ever watchful, “If you need to throw up then warn me first,”

That struck him as odd. “Why didn’t you make me do that as soon as I arrived here? Surely that’s the first protocol in eating something dangerous?” you jerked your head, an indicator for him to drink and truly, the sugar did nothing to hide the foul taste and Cyno couldn’t hold back the winces and the gags as he swallowed,

“You ate fluorescent fungus, probably a rarer sub-specie that is very similar to the starshroom and native to Inazuma, obviously. The spores would have touched your lips first and as it is a very delicate plant -,” you fiddle with a small pocket book left on the table, showing him a beautiful painted depiction of the yellow-ish fungus he ate, “your saliva would have dissolved it before it even hit your stomach so vomiting would not have done much,” he nods, somewhat in defeat, gulping the last of your concoction with a poorly hidden gag, “We can sit until you feel better if you’d like, I’m surprised you didn’t have worse symptoms. Usually people get hallucinations, fainting, loss of limb control; the usual when one eats a poisonous mushroom, but you’re strong I guess,” you steal a glance at his body reclined and tense in the chair, “or just resistant,” Cyno doesn’t reply, tilting his head back and taking a shallow breath, still uncomfortable and unwell, “Just relax, it’ll take effect in a little bit, I’ll take care of you while it does,”

There was that strange feeling that made Cyno want to suck in his cheeks and puff out his chest, but it was not all that unfamiliar. Moments like this were common, more so in the recent visits, the ones where he felt like you could be a little more than the Inazuman who knows surprisingly too much. Sat around the fire in the cool nights, palm held in yours, tracing the deep callouses and lines and pretending to be a mage from your home city, making up some jumbo about his future and him suddenly so wishing you were in it; waving at him from down in the valley, wading with the fishes and the fungi, trousers rolled up to your knees and looking just about the happiest he had ever seen you; listening from the shadows as you animatedly retold stories from travelling around Watatsumi and foraging the pearls hidden beneath the glowing waters, an eagerly fond look twinkling in his eye; slyly asking about you at the Akedamiya, wondering about your studies and pretending to be interested in your thesis when all he could see was your printed name at the top of the manuscript; times when you thought he couldn’t see you looking at him with his headpiece off, a cut on his brow or a set of cards on the table in front of him, noticing your longing gaze and keeping it safe for the lonely nights in the desert. 

You were looking at him now, thinking he was resting, allowing your eyes to trace the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach and the trunks of his thighs, spread and inviting. It takes all he has not to smirk, or flush, or even move. It’s strange, he thinks, he feels almost uncomfortable in that he desperately wants to do something about it, in an all the more wanton way. Makes him feel wound up, on edge almost, biting his tongue and scrunching his toes in case he might stand up and simply confess. 

“How do I know if I’m hallucinating?” Cyno knows he isn’t, but it fills the heady silence and he hears you readjust yourself, sitting up a little straighter, 

“Well, first of all, you shouldn’t be hallucinating now since the medicine should be working,” there’s concern in your voice, licking like a lover over his ears, feeling you press forward and he feels you caress his closed eyelid, “look at me? Why could you be hallucinating now?” he’s lazy in aiding your poking and prodding, allowing you to remove his headpiece and place it on the table, blinking blearily, “Describe what you are feeling please, and what you’re seeing,” 

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” he grumbles after a moment in gathering his thoughts, struggling in your close proximity, “You’re so close, it’s interfering with my concentration,” you furrow your brows, confused and more than concerned, that same soft scowl of a lover settling on your face at his words, “there, you’re doing things and saying things and making me feel things I’m not accustomed to, it feels wrong; like it and you and all this shouldn’t be here,”

“And so, you think that you’re experiencing a hallucination of what exactly?” you feel for a temperature, sitting back in your chair at his leaning forwards into the touch of your hand, “I’m not sure you’re hallucinating Cyno, your vitals are - ,” precise fingers dig into the doughy, giving skin under his chin to feel for a pulse, finding it strong and fluttering like a small bird, “Let me get you something to drink, water this time I promise,” you’re not angry with his feigning symptoms, or that concerned at his apparent anxiety, not berating him in that motherly way like you usually do and that only causes his pulse to rocket higher and the anxiety creep further into his gut. You’re acting in that way again, sweet eyes and a sweeter voice, like honey, fetching him a cool welcomed cup of water in the way such as after a night of -

You distinctly remember hearing absolute silence in the seconds between you standing to get your guest some water, and then feeling his imposing presence behind you, close enough to feel his breath on the back of your neck. Time stops at the sound of his fists clenching by his side, swallowing thickly at the sight of your inviting skin, physically shaking in his restraint,

“I feel like I’m dreaming, like none of this and none of what I am feeling is real,” you’re silent still, barely breathing in the confined space he’d boxed you into, a small corner of your hut with a sink that provided you some much needed physical support. Psychologically however, you were in turmoil. Cyno, the Great General Mahamtra, felt as if he was having a hallucination or some kind of dream in his apparent romantic or lustful pursuit of you, and the implication of what was standing behind you was suddenly too much to bear. 

“I could - pinch you if you’d like,” the voice that leaves you doesn’t sound like your own, shaky and shy, “Dreams aren’t real, you shouldn’t be able to feel or touch or taste in a dream, if you concentrate hard enough,”

A beat passes, filled with sharp, quiet breaths passing between you and it aches that you cannot see what he’s doing, or what he looks like or how he feels. Your heart flutters like a sakura petal in the spring breeze, mouth dropping open when you feel his hands rest on your hips, burning hot through your clothes. Cyno sucks in a breath, lips dry and cool as they part against your neck, tongue darting out to taste the damp saltiness of your skin, 

“I feel you,” he mumbles into your jugular, thick hair sticking to the side of your face and his nails dig into the cushiony flesh of your hips, “I feel you, and you feel - soft, so soft,” hips press into you, strong and hard and fluid, “And you taste like nectar, like honey and wine and - like a dream,”

“It’s been more than enough time for the medicine to take its full effect, you shouldn’t feel any more side effe…Cyno,” his name comes out a sigh at his attaching his mouth fully to your throat, wet and warm and causing your knees to buckle. He catches you, almost, slinging an around around your middle and hoisting you back against him, panting against the back of your neck, 

“I guess you’re right,” one hand grips your wrist, urging you to put down the cup and Cyno lifts it to his lips, nose running down the pulsing veins as it trying to absorb your scent and the effect he has on your pulse, throbbing beneath the delicate skin, “How could this be a dream, a hallucination if I can feel everything, taste you on my tongue, touch you like this?” 

He’s grinding against you, body writhing in tandem with his in response, mouth open with heady gasps and mewls that remind him over and over that not only did you save him from certain madness, but you also were eagerly reciprocating his equally eager advances. Long fingers unlace the ties of your trousers and dip beneath your waistband, instead dragging up into your shirt, loose and comfortable for your planned evening of study, now easily parting like clouds on a blustery day for him. The first touch against your chest sends you shivering into his grip, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast oh so softly and politely before gripping a little firmer, then altogether greedily. Flesh spilling between his fingers, nipple catching on a callous, rough and a little mean but eliciting such a submissive little reaction that Cyno nearly folds forward against you. 

“Please, please, please,” you’re muttering desperately, sacred like you’re saying a prayer, pushing your chest further into his touch and arching your back, “Touch me please,”

“You’re always so polite,” he isn’t much for words, let alone praises but you’re so dear and so sweet in his arms, shivering like a little lamb and even bleating at the slithering of his other hand into your trousers. With his face still nuzzling into your neck, Cyno is only just able to hide his distinct devastation at how wet you are, positively soaking your underwear and covering his fingers in honeyed slick. He grips your breast harder, plucking at your nipple at the same luxurious pace as his forefingers sliding through your cunt, slipping sloppily over your clit and you all but howl. You aren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, the one he was previously lathing kisses to was now somehow tangled in his hair, holding him in place and it’s grounding, it’s anchoring you to the intense, gooey pleasure coursing through your gut. Your other hand is gripping his forearm, the one deep between your thighs or the one greedily fisting your breasts, you aren’t sure but your nails hurt and you think it’s because you’re holding on too tight, but how can you not when too much is happening all at once? 

Cyno feels your arousal coating his hand, palm sticky and fingers pruning with his assault, languid circles over your clit, following the shivers and writhes of your body with grinds and jerks of his own. Gods, he’s so hard that it hurts, and he knows that you’re so close, so fucking close to cumming but he can’t help but still worry if he’s dreaming, if this is all an after effect of his incident, if you’d neglected to tell him how long something like a hallucination could last. He vaguely hears you howl in agonising dejection when he rips his hand from your trousers, strings of arousal glistening in between his fingers in the light and he’s struck with how you’d much prefer to cry over the loss than watch him lick up the mess you’d made. You only just manage to catch his eyes rolling back at the taste, dripping down his wrist, three fingers shoved into his mouth and positively devouring the essence of you. Tears leak down your cheeks, replacing his fingers with your lips in a whirlwind of need and hard, hot desperation, swallowing his surprised grunt with a whine of your own. Cyno doesn’t respond for a moment, shocked at your display of wantonness, tongue licking inside his mouth in a thinly veiled attempt at tasting your own arousal and his grip on you suddenly becomes all the more fierce. 

“I can’t - I can’t -,” your kisses grow sloppy with your begs, struggling to pull your trousers down, almost losing your balance and it pains Cyno to part from you for even a second to disrobe himself. Red eyes follow your every movement, toeing off your shoes and ungracefully kicking away your trousers, bending over for a moment and it takes everything in him not to cum on the spot. Nestled between your thighs, dripping and plump, the scent of it wounding him to his knees, crawling half dressed over to you,

“Gods - fuck,” eyes fluttering closed at your suprised gasp, tongue darting out to lick gently, lightly like he was licking honey from his finger, catching the leaking drops and feeling his stomach clench, and his cock kick against his thigh. You remain in place, frozen against his curious, pointed licks, flattening his tongue after having his fill and splitting your pussylips with a lewd noise. He could be content between your thighs for the rest of his life, Akademiya be damned, coming home from his duties to this lifeline of saccharine sin that he swallows down greedily and selfishly. The wings of your shirt sit bunched over your hips, sliding low over your ass until he frustratedly fists the cotton against your cheek and spreads you enough to put his whole mouth against you. 

“Cyno! Ah - !” you startle forwards, but he only follows like a worshipper, slurping and swallowing every flutter and every throb of you, fingers digging hard into your thigh and ass to keep himself in place. A tentative hand cards into his hair, a question and his answer was a long, slow moan directly into your cunt, vibrating between your hips and the result was your closeted strength almost shoving him over, nose hitting your clit and causing you to gyrate deliciously. 

That was all he wanted, this drawn out stupor only stabilised by your shuddering grinds against his tongue, palm slapping against the countertop. If you’d allow him, Cyno would do this every day, he’d gladly station himself in the city if he got to taste the heaven between your thighs even for a few seconds in the mornings before he was called in to deal with the country’s worst and the best. It would be a welcome reprieve, one he’d been craving without even knowing it; in the moments alone with you, sacred and secret, soft and sweet and warm. To feel you gushing down his chin, moans reaching their crescendo and legs shaking on your tiptoes, all but sobbing into the crook of your elbow as you cum; it would be worth the sacrifice. 

Cyno felt selfish, detaching himself from your cunt, resting his forehead against the back of your thigh and smoothing his hands over your shuddering calves, down to your ankles and then back up to your ass. 

“Are you okay?” his breath is hot on your skin, and through your gulping pants, you manage to answer with a cracked ‘mhm’. You feel him smile wide and smug, standing and hiccuping at the state of you, slumped against the sink and writhing as if in pain, whole body breathing with your dwindling orgasm, “Come here, I got you,”

Carefully and all too greedily, Cyno scoops your torso against his with his hand angling your jaw, tilting your face up to his. A kiss is pressed to your lips, languid and lazy, a stark contrast to the blunt head of his cock kissing the lips of your cunt. You shudder, unable to return his kisses but trying so desperately to keep his stare, eyes boring into yours as he angles his hips. 

“I got you,” he murmurs a promise, feeling your fingers lace with his over your throat, watching your lids flutter as he presses into you, “Stay with me, I got you I promise, just a little more,” 

Breathy and fleeting, Cyno recites his words like a prayer, thrusting gently and shallowly at your wobbling bottom lip, swallowing your discomforted hiccups. He doesn’t thrust to the hilt like he so dearly wishes to, filling you in one swipe and leaving you reeling - no, he’s slow, methodical, precise and doesn’t break eye contact for even a second. Keeping a firm grip on your jaw, chasing the breaking down of your resolve every inch he slides into you until there’s no more, snug and warm and so fucking wet. He feels you against his pelvis, against his thighs, sticky and warm, shuddering when he kisses you once more, almost like a praise for taking him all the way. 

You’re trying to speak, trying to make any sort of sound but the breath is stolen from your chest when he starts an agonisingly deep grind, up into you, hardly leaving the warmth of your cunt and digging hard into your belly. It feels as though he’s in your throat, eyes never leaving yours and sending you spiralling, gasps turning into whimpers turning into hiccuping sobs of his name with every defying push of his hips. Cyno sees your eyes flutter for a second, lips parted and brushing yours, swallowing every delicious sound you make, responding with grunts of his own in both encouragement and sin. 

“Eyes on me,” he purrs, a crack in his voice at the sudden way you choke him, cunt clenching at the drop in his tone. Cyno shudders, pace slipping and he slides his hand down over the swell of your belly, feeling for the slippery bud of your clit. When he decides to match the slow, heady pushes and pulls of his hips with heavy thrums over your clit, you’re quite unsure of how you manage to stay standing upright. 

“Ah - ! Cyno !” he never falters, not even when you grind back up against him, not even when you try to lick into his mouth for even a semblance of grounding, not even when you cum so hard that fat tears roll down your cheeks, not even when you finally catch your voice and reach back to grip hard at his hair, “Again, make me cum again please,” you beg, “Please Cyno, please - inside, cum inside, make it deep - please,”

Begging didn’t seem to be about your usual person, the one he knew that shared their meals and knowledge with anyone who asked, so to hear it fall from the heaven of your lips was surely his downfall. It was unexpected, it tore a deep and long snarl from his chest, grinds turning into thrusts turning into something damning and gut wrenching. The fingers on your clit were kinder, swift circles to keep you leaking down your thighs but the cock battering your sensitive walls was less so. 

He never stops watching you though, even when you reach a second completion, all the more messier and sloppier than the first, red heavy eyes boring into yours without faltering for even a second. Cyno presses his forehead to yours, the angle causing your neck to ache but it goes unnoticed through the life giving pleasure he brings you, with every greedy slam of his pelvis against your ass. Lips touch yours in the moment he cums, eyes finally snapping shut and you think he looks beautiful through the fog of your orgasm; illuminated by the candle light, sweat flecking his brow, hair mussed and tangled in your fingers. Jaw ticking with every twitch of his cock deep inside of you, warmth spreading through your hips and thighs, feeling his hand flatten over your stomach as a kind of worship, caressing the space he fills so deliciously. 

“I - ,” he swallows heavily, 

“It’s okay,” is the first thing you can think of, “I wanted it too,” Cyno’s eyes open and he searches your face, “For… a while,”

It feels like eternity before he answers, nudging his nose against yours affectionately,

“Would it surprise you to admit I felt the same? That I waited far too long, and chose a rather idiotic time to do it?” the corner of his lips lift in a smirk,

“Honestly and with your track record? Not really, you have a bad habit of keeping things to yourself,” with bated breath you lean to kiss him softly, “But so do I, I guess,”

Cyno clenches his jaw as he pulls away from you, surveying the mess of your coupling before surveying the mess between your thighs. He flushes dark, lust threatening red again at the white threatening to spill to the floor, 

“Here, let me - help you,” he aids in removing your soiled shirt, using that as a rag between your thighs and he hisses along with your protests at the sensitivity, “I’m sorry, I’ll be gentler next time, I promise,” you aren’t shy in your nudity, how could you really? And you turn to Cyno with heated cheeks, 

“Next time? When - urm - when do you plan on having a next time?” Goosebumps flurry over your arms, nipples perking in the coolness of the night and Cyno can’t help but reach out, cupping the weight of your breast and sighing at the feeling, “I can’t, not right now - that’s too soon Cyno! You gotta let me rest! Don’t be so - !”

And he laughs. Full and loud and hearty, gripping you and embracing you and kissing you with laughter wrinkling his face, craning you backwards and swaying you to and fro. You squeal, thighs tacky and sticky but following his movements, allowing him to swing you over to your cot on the far wall. 

“I would never defile you without asking, and not before tasting you thoroughly too,” Cyno kneels before you, a covenant and their disciple, hands tucked together in prayer, “And besides, I’m still questioning whether this is a dream,”

“I could pinch you, again, if you like?” You draw your blanket up around your shoulders, sliding backwards further on to the bed, noticing for the first time that Cyno still had a majority of his upper clothing on and there was something about the exposure of his abdomen, the ripples of his muscles, the thatch of white hair trailing down from his belly button to his cock resting between his thighs that gets you all tingly and warm again. He folds himself into the small space with you, catlike and flexible, kissing your forehead with a hum, 

“Maybe in a few hours, I’ll probably wake up and need a splash of something on my face to remind me I’m not hallucinating,” it takes you a second to catch on, hiding your face in your hands with a mortified groan and Cyno laughs again, gathering you close, keeping your quaint reaction to his terrible joke a secret, a safe little slice of heaven only for him to enjoy. In the back of his mind, he remembers suddenly that out of everyone; you’re the only one who entertained his jokes and silly puns, and the first time you genuinely laughed at one was also probably the first time he decided that he loves you. The word chases tails in his mind as he succumbs to sleep, tucked up against you and keeping his lips firmly pressed to your forehead, an imprint of himself for you to feel even when he wasn’t there.

Copyright of honeymaki. Please do not repost, translate or upload to any other media sites or ai engines.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Seven

Pairings; LADS OT4 X reader

Word Count; 2,876

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature context

Notes; you have a slight existential crisis, a kiss (but it doesn't get too intense unfortunately), another Xavier-centric chapter with a small cliffhanger, also a reminder that 💛 is Xavier! Also, I accidentally posted this so I guess y'all are getting this chapter early 🤷🏻‍♀️

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Masterlist

I would also like to mention, once more, that the reader isn't aware of anything relating to Sylus. Just his looks, the appearance of his evol, and all of that. Think of her as all of us during Sylus's trailer release! Even though she doesn't know anything, the story will go as it does in the original story. I'm definitely not creative enough to change any of that, but there will be major differences after we finish the final chapter (in-game, chapter eight)!

You have one more day of freedom before you enter the Nest as bait. How will you spend it?

You woke up a bit later than usual, wanting to spend as much time with Estelle in bed as possible before you had to leave her for an unspecified amount of time. You hope she remembers you. After you make yourself something to eat and give Estelle her food, you check up on your flowers. The bluish pink flowers sat in a vase you had made at a pottery class with Zayne. Your thumbprints in the shape of a heart and the vase was glazed in the colour arctic blue, which was a beautiful light blue. The vase was sitting next to the fox Xavier got you and the painting Rafayel made for you.

You decide to lounge around the apartment today, unwilling to go outside and do anything since you knew today would be your last day of freedom. You were honestly worried, after tomorrow you were in the dark on what comes next. Your gaze flitting across the notes you made of the past and near future, hoping to come up with a nice game plan for your next decisions. You could tell the other guys you know about your past lives, but if you don't know everything then what's the point? You knew Rafayel would throw a fit if you didn't remember everything. Zayne doesn't really remember or, at least, you're not sure. Most of Zayne's past life you're in the dark about since you never got his cards. For Rafayel, you know two specific instances of past lives but the bigger one where he was the god of the sea? You only know part of it. You never got those cards either. With Xavier, you know of both lives- one more so than the other. You know he's Lumiere, the man who saved the main character as a child and protected Linkon during the Chronorift Catastrophe..you also know he's quite jealous of himself. Any time Lumiere is mentioned, he gets jealous.

But Sylus? Nope, you know nothing. Besides his looks, that he's the leader of Onychinus, and what his evol looks like. That's all you know. And you think you remember a crow, but you could be mistaken because of meeting Mephi at the animal shelter.

You know you need the aether core at the auction, but you don't recall why. Maybe to help your heart? You don't dare ask because it would look weird if you were intent on finding something, but forgot why you needed it. And after that? You assume winning Sylus’ heart like you have with the others. So he can't be a real bad guy if he's a love interest. You've read theories that the Ever corporation, which is the biggest company in the world- branching from biotech to aerospace to evol energy and even international trade- might be evil or working with Onychinus, but that's the only lead you have. You'll just have to figure it out as you go along.

You put on the TV and laze around with Estelle for most of the day until you step outside to sit on your balcony to watch the sun set.

Your phone buzzes and you look down to check it, seeing a text from Xavier.

💛 :”whatre u doing outside this late?”

A smile tugs at your lips and you tell him that you're watching the sunset to which he doesn't respond. Instead his response comes in the form of a figure hopping down from the floor above you and grabbing onto the concrete wall of the balcony. “Watching it together would be better than watching alone.” He says, reaching out toward you and you grab his hand, tugging him fully onto your balcony.

“You scared the hell out of me, Xavier.” I say, looking up at the sky. “Give me a warning next time, please?” “I'll try my best.” He smiles, propping his arm up on your shoulder. “Aren't you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Ah…a little bit.” You look down at your feet with a small sigh and decide to sit down in a chair. “I'm nervous, but also anxious, but also I don't know what to expect. I have a plan and I know it'll work, but I'm unsure of where to go from there.”

“Well instead of worrying about it, how about you just go with the flow?” He crouches down next to you since you only had one chair, he rests his chin on your knee as he looks up at you. “Don't stress about what hasn't happened, just focus on right now and you can worry about the future when it comes.” You rest your hand in his hair and smile, tilting your head back to look up at the sky. “You know, you talk like an old man.” Your thumb brushes against his forehead, “but…I don't mind it.”

“Besides watching the sunset, I know of another way to calm down. Do you want to hear about it?” Xavier asks, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently brushes against your fully healed scar and your eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Have you tried it with other people and that's how you know it works?” You tease with a raise of your brow. “How do you know it'll work, huh?”

“Well… you won't know unless we try.” He stands back up, resting one hand on the armrest of your chair. His other still on your right cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “May I?” He asks and you go to nod, but remember before that he told you to speak. “Yes,” you say before adding softly under your breath, “please.”

Xavier's eyes close as he closes the distance between you, his lips gently brushing against yours before fully connecting. He doesn't try to deepen the kiss, leaving it as a soft, yet intimate moment between you both. After a few moments, he breaks from the kiss and leaves a few scattered kisses across your face. His final stop was at your scar, his lips brushing along the scar from the top of your eyebrow all the way to your cheekbone. Your body immediately jerks in surprise at the touch since you realized your scar was rather sensitive. “Better?” He whispers, going back to resting his forehead against yours. His ears as red as yours probably were.

“Thank you.” You say softly, cupping his cheek and you rub your thumb back and forth across his cheekbone. A loud meow coming from behind you both finally breaks the moment and allows Xavier to pull away from you. “It seems like Estelle was jealous.” He chuckles, picking up the large cat with ease. “It looks like she's worried about her mommy.”

“She'll be fine because she'll have her daddy looking after her while I'm gone.” You say nonchalantly, not noticing the blush that spread across Xavier's cheeks or the way he buried his red face into Estelle's fur. “You really have a way with words.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“We missed the sunset!” You realize, quickly standing up as you whine. “Damn it.”

“We might've missed the sunset but didn't we make a better memory in place of it?” Xavier muses, glancing over at you with a soft smile. “I guess we did.” You reach over to pet Estelle behind the ears and Xavier takes the chance to say, “Be safe tomorrow. Promise me.”

“I can't make any promises, Xav. You know that.” You sigh, hugging both him and Estelle. “But just know I'll do my best to come back in one piece. I can promise that. I'm not going anywhere any time soon.” You murmur into his chest and rest your forehead against it.

“That's…” Xavier lets out a heavy sigh and gives you a forced smile before he nods, “That’s enough for now.”

D-Day

Finally, it's Hunting day. Your last day of knowing what comes next. You spent most of the night tossing and turning, mulling over what would happen and worrying over getting hurt, but you felt a bit better now. Especially as you changed into your clothes for the day. In the game, the main character showed up at the Nest in her uniform and while that would be the best kind of bait, it seemed impractical. If you're trying to be bait, wouldn't being obvious bait deter people? If you're too on the nose, people might think it's a trap. So instead, you opted to put on a strappy, red ruffled shirt that was tucked into a white skirt. You added a belt and you set your red low heels by the door. You spray some perfume and spend a few minutes getting ready to look your best.

A stylish outfit is a good weapon for a woman. That and your actual weapon in its holster under your skirt. You shrug on an expensive black jacket, one of the only things you own that wasn't in game, to hide your obvious weapon. You weren't sure when the right time would be to leave so you decided to have your last meal. Well, it wouldn't be your last meal but it definitely felt like it. After you ate, you'd leave for the Nest to meet up with Rafayel. Your last message to him being ‘Meet me at the Nest and show me how to fish.’ to which he replied that ‘the biggest fish come out at night.’ So you assume 10-11pm would be an appropriate time to leave?

You still have time today so what were you going to do?

You took a few more notes on what to expect after and made sure the tiny tranquilizer was in your pocket. The antidote vial sitting on your kitchen island ready to take before you leave. You double, no triple, no quadruple checked that you have everything and spent a few hours anxiously pacing back and forth and petting Estelle. You were never good at waiting, especially when you were anticipating something.

You decide to leave at 10pm, giving you an hour to get to the Nest, which makes sense since you'd be walking. You down the vial, tossing it in the garbage as you head toward the door. You slip your shoes on and lock the door behind you after feeding Estelle for the night.

Honestly with all this walking, you should probably just bite the bullet and learn how to drive since you already have a license in this world. But driving is scary and you have bigger issues to deal with right now so that'll have to come later.

As you walk through Azure Square, you pin your ‘family’ crest to your jacket, trying to make sure that not all of Jeremiah's hard work went to waste and even though you have your hunter's watch on, it is covered by your jacket sleeves so you assume it'll be fine. A pretty bait is what you're planning to be tonight, no need to go too overboard with it. You enter the Nest and it just looks like your average nightclub. People were standing and drinking, some slightly dancing to some music or talking amongst themselves, not many people were at the bar though, besides the bartender.

As you look around, your vision is blocked by someone stepping in front of you. “Hey there,” the man’s eyes glance at your crest as he continues, “Actually-”

“Isn't it a bit weird to do business with newcomers?” Rafayel steps into frame, practically shoving the other man out of the way as he fixes his sleeves, not even sparing the man another glance. “Come.” He loops a finger with yours as he pulls you up to the bar. “So…do you have your bait ready?” He asks, leaning his chin onto his hand.

“Mmh, I'll play their game and allow myself to be caught. Act like a clueless little worm on a tackle.” You say, nonchalantly. Not mentioning the N109 Zone since you didn't want to catch others' attention just yet. “You'll still need to cast your line though…that should be easy enough.” Rafayel drums his fingers against the bar counter before he hands the bartender a coin. He picks up an embossed card, sliding the blank side over to you. “Go ahead. Write down what you're looking for.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head as you grab the black feathered pen that was sitting in a nearby cup. You write down ‘aether core’ and the ink disappears a few moments later. Rafayel scoops up the card to hand it to the bartender who nods and disappears into the back. “Who's he going to tell?” You ask, turning your body to face the well dressed artist. “Doesn't matter. If they're interested, you'll know.” He muses, moving his hand over to trace random shapes on the back of your hand.

“Rafayel?” He's still silent before he takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “Now, we wait for the fish to bite.” “How long?” You ask after he lets go of your hand. “Hmm..not long. The Nest lives up to its name, you know? An underground intelligence network that's well known to match supply and demand.” As Rafayel finishes his sentence, the bartender comes back with a shot glass. He places it in front of you before stepping away once more.

“And this?” You ask before assuming this means a fish has taken a bite so you reach out for it and Rafayel suddenly grabs your wrist. “Think about it first. The glass is black, that means you'll have to pay a high price and if it doesn't go smoothly, you'll be the payment instead.”

“Well, being the payment is better than sitting here and doing nothing.” You shrug, downing the shot in one go. “Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you.” Rafayel chuckles, placing his hand on top of your head to ruffle your hair. “I hope you find the answers you seek.” He stands up from the barstool and doesn't look back as he walks away, just puts his hand up as he waves.

“Alright, I guess let's look around until the hunting starts.” You murmur to yourself, rising to your feet as you walk around the bar. You notice a board off to the side, a wanted board. You see a head shot of Lumiere who looks obviously like Xavier except with a white mask and an outfit you've never seen before. A small chuckle leaving your lips before you notice how much he's wanted for. “100 million? Geez, what did he do?” You step a bit closer to look at the other wanted posters and you only catch a glimpse of purple hair on another poster before someone runs into you.

“It's starting, it's starting.” The drunken man excitedly mumbles to himself as he walks further into the crowd.

The lights suddenly shut off and a modified OTTO patrol bot rose up from a podium in the center of the room. The circular robot flies high until a voice booms from it, “There's a price to pay when a wish is granted! Will you be the hunter or the hunted tonight?” The robotic screen was a deep shade of red, the camera on it shaped like an eye. “Hunting day will now…commence.”

As your gaze lands on the eye, you feel your blood run cold. This…this reminded you of the red eye from your nightmares but you couldn't put your finger on how. You decide to play it safe and try to find a place to hide but honestly, where can you hide? You're in an unfamiliar, crowded place so you're not even sure where the bathrooms are and why would you hide if the plan is to be caught in the first place?

Your thoughts are cut short as the voice says one last thing. “Now.” It's red gaze lands on you, effectively spotlighting you to everyone in the crowd. “Shit.” You mutter to yourself as a few people in the crowd walk toward you.

“There she is…we've been looking for you.” One person says and another one chimes in, “This is the prey.”

You're a tad bit overwhelmed as people close in on you and as you try to dip out of the crowd, you feel your breath leave you as you're hit in the back and your knees hit the ground hard. “Hey-” you say, trying to turn toward the person and elbow them in the gut but they grab you by your hair and hold a vial in front of your face. “C-003, a neurotoxin. If you're smart, you won't put up a fight.”

You sigh, head hanging down and your hair covers your face to hide your smile. At least everything still went according to plan. Now what comes next is a complete mystery. Your smile leaves your lips as you feel the butt of a gun hit your head and you fall to the ground.

I'm keeping the extra spaces in this chapter to show a comparison, so just let me know which you prefer and I'll keep doing it for the up-coming chapters! Also, this won't be a cliffhanger for long since I'll also be posting chapter eight today. I decided to spoil y'all 🩷

I do want to add that I change up mc's dialogue compared to what she says in-game sometimes because I don't like how it's worded or I don't like specific actions she does (like shaking Mephisto, you'll see). I also make comments on her stupid actions- like her trying to hide in the original chapter or wear her hunter's uniform as if she wants to scream to the Nest, "I'm a hunter!! Please, take me!" Instead of being more low-key and under the radar.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora

[jangofettjamz]

Happy Halloween

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: You and Jenna attend your sister Emma Myers' halloween party to try and boost your social confidence.

Words: 2400

TW: Sexual Harassment.

Set in the same timeline as "Confessions"

Jenna POV

October has finally rolled around, tis halloween season; my favourite season. Y/N and I are going to a Halloween party that his twin, Emma Myers, is hosting.

Not only is this Y/Ns first Halloween party, but it's his first party in general. I told him that he didn't have to go if he didn't want to, but he insisted. He's been trying to improve his social abilities for the last year and he believes that going to this party might help him gain that much needed boost I'm confidence. I'm so proud of him for trying.

We've decided that we're gonna be dressed as superheroes this year; his choice. Normally I'd go for something much more "macabre", but it's his first Halloween with me so I let him choose the theme of our costumes.

Originally we were going to go as Wednesday and Xavier, though we decided against it as, one: it was unoriginal and two: it hadn't been announced that Y/N was replacing Percy as Xavier for Wednesday Season two, so we wanted to keep it on the down low.

I'm going as a female version of Spider-Man, we'll I guess it would be "Spider-Women" in my case. It's a generic choice I know, but who doesn't like anything Spider-Man related, especially after that masterpiece of a movie "Across The Spider-verse." My costume is a rwd and blue Spidey suit; classic style.

Y/N however, he chose an outfit that I dunno if it constitutes as a "superhero" costume. Mainly because that this character is downright evil. He is going as one of the best TV villains ever: Homelander.

Jack Quaid, who worked on The Boys and scream 5 with me, managed to get in contact with the producers and procured one of the costumes they used for Antony Starr. It pays being a celebrity sometimes. The suit was a perfect fit for Y/N, he absolutely loves The Boys, so you imagine how happy he was when Jack managed to source this suit for us.

Dying his hair to match Homelander's was a bit nerve wracking for him as he'd never dyed his hair before, but I eventually convinced him after a while and he definitely looks the part.

The party is going hold around 50 people, all at the Myers' house. Atleast the party is at a familer location making it easier for Y/N. Though, I admit I'm still a little nervous that he'll become to overstimulated from all the music, lights and people. I take pride in making sure that everything is adjusted for Y/N comfort and accessibility, but this is completely out of my hands and I hate that.

He assures me that he'll be fine, that he can manage on his own and that he'll be fine if anything goes wrong. Still, I can't help but worry about him, he is my everything after all. I do get a bit motherly over Y/N sometimes.

- 3 hours later - Myers Residence.

We just pulled up the Myers House. Many different coloured lights gleamed put the windows, loud music invaded our ear drums even from inside the car. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all" Y/N said nervously; the kind of of nervous you'd hear from someone when they know something bads going to happen.

"Do you wanna go back home, bubs?" He looked at me, then back at the house, contemplating his choices. "Honey, I won't be mad if you wanna go back home, we both knew that this would be difficult for you. There's no shame in wanting to go home, baby." I said with a smile to let him know my words are genuine.

"I wanna go in" He finally said.

"Are you sure?" I said, needing firm confirmation that he wanted this. He nodded and I smiled. "I'll be right beside you, if at any point you get uncomfortable, you tell me right away." He nodded again and we made our way to the front door, the sound of loud music increasing with each step we take.

Pumpkins lit with candles were displayed on the door step, clearly Emma has a talent for carving pumpkins I see. Y/N walks behind, I can practically feel his eyes staring at my ass. I turn around and he immediately turns his head, making me smile widely.

"Were you staring at my ass, Y/N L/N?" He didn't answer me and kept his eyes to the ground, confirming my suspicions. I kiss him on the lips "It's okay, I don't mind" He smiles and reaches for the doorbell.

Y/N rang the doorbell with an unsteady hand, his foot nervously bouncing up and down against the pavement as we wait for someone to answer the door. The door eventually swings open revealing Emma. She's dressed as Enid in her black cat outfit.

"Oh my god, Y/N, you're here!" She says pulling him into a tight death grip of a hug. He laughs while returning the hug with an equal amount of pressure.

"Good to see you too, sis. I should've known you would've went as Enid for Halloween" he says playfully, she nudges his arm in response at his cheeky little comment.

She turns to me and gives me a bug hug. It's been a while since I've seen her, so it was nice to catch up after all this time. "Your costumes look amazing guys, that Homelander suit looks so authentic!" Little did Emma know, it was very authentic.

She leads inside to the living room, the sound of music was turned down a bit now that Y/N was here much to some peoples dismay, but no one objected, at least not verbally anyway.

"How's your Halloween going so far sis?" Y/N asked his sister.

"Oh it's going great dude, we have a lot of candy for all the trick or treaters that knock kn our door." She takes a seat on the couch in the living and so do we, my hand interlocks with Y/N to keep him close.

"I'm surprised you came here, Y/N/N. I know you don't like the party scene all that much. I'm proud ofnyou for coming though, bro." She says pridefully, bunping her fist against his shoulder affectionately. He smiles at her, besides me and his parents, Emma is his number one supporter.

Suddenly a girl appears out of nowhere, intruding on our conversation. "Oh my god! Jenna Ortega!" At first I thought it was only an innocent fan wanting a picture so I spoke to her at first.

"Hi there, very nice to meet you" I say politely.

She looks over to Y/N with a smirk and a lick on the lips. "Well hi there handsome, nice costume" she says with a sultry tone. "Wanna ditch this party, I know a place where we can hang out, if you know what I mean" she says with a wink, she actually winked.

Y/N looked back at me looking extremely uncomfortable, his eyes just screamed "help me, Jenna." His grip on my hand tightened, indicating his stress and anxiety.

Before Y/N could so anything I set her straight. She went to touch him but grabbed her wrist tightly, earning a squeal from the bitch "He doesnt want to go anywhere with you, he's with me. I think you should go"

she leaves with a pout etched onto her bitchy face. "I'm not no expert on social interaction, but I'm 100% sure that she was flirting with me" he says, still shocked from what happened.

Emma spoke up "You okay, Y/N?"

He nods, still clearly uncomfortable with what just went down. I hug him tightly, keeping my arms securely around him. "I'm sorry she did that, bubs. I promise I won't let that happen again." He nodded at my words, my hands working my way under his cape to rub his back. Something tells me that bitch will make another move.

-2 hours later

The party is a lot more lively than we first got here, around 55 people for sure. I haven't had any alcohol since I didn't wanna get drunk, I've gotta drive home. I've been talking with Emma's friends, getting to know them a little.

Y/N sat next to me, though he struggled to talk with them and kept silent more often then not. He tapped my shoulder "I'm gonna go get a drink, I'll be back in a minute." I nodded, though admittedly I kinda wanted to go with him, but he's his own person and can handle himself. Like I said, I can't help but worry about him.

I keep my eye on him from afar, just in case anything were to happen. "So what's been going on with you and Y/N then, Jenna. Has my brother been behaving himself?" She jokes

I laugh and respond to her "He's great; both of us are. He's been trying to improve on his social skills lately, he thought coming here would help with that" I say, eyes quickly glancing to Y/N every once and awhile. I turned back to Emma and continued "Though, I think he's been struggling tonight, lots of people new people, not to mention all the lights and music."

Emma sighs, knowing her brother's struggles with socialising. "It'll take time to build his confidence. It seems like everytime he makes progress there's always something bad that happens, like what happened with Percy." Emma says that part with disgust.

I look over to Y/N who's still choosing what drink he wants, he's very indecisive, like me. "You're staring, Jenna" Emma catches me staring at him. I point my gaze back to her.

"Sorry I'm just worried about him, y'know." She nods at my words.

"Yeah I get it. I worry about him all the time." She admits with a sigh.

Suddenly I hear Y/N start to plead for someone to leave him alone. "Hey please leave me alone! I have a girlfriend!" He shouts, the girl from earlier had come back to harass.

"She doesn't deserve you, baby. Let me show you a good time" he shakes his head erratically, he looks like he's about to go into shock. I make my way over to save him from this psycho bitch.

She suddenly starts kissing him, causing him to whimper from disgust. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her off immediately out of pure desperation. "LOOK LADY I DONT WANNA GO OUT WITH YOU! PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!" All eyes were on them, his hands shook violently.

He looked at me, desperately wanting escape this situation. I dragged the girl up off the floor by her hair and slammed against the fridge. "You ever sexually harass my Y/N again, you're fucking dead" she nods and runs out the front door. Emma hugs Y/N, who's still a bit shaky after all that.

"You okay, baby boy?" I ask worriedly, cupping his cheek at the time. He nodded while releasing his grip on Emma and began wrapping me in a hug. There were no tears, he was still in shock from the whole thing his eyes were erratically darting across the room, noticing all the people that watched waht had happened.

He needs a quiet space "Emma is there a place where Y/N can calm down?"

"His old room is upstairs, that's his quiet place" I immediately take him upstairs, pushing past all the people who were in the way.

I opened the door to his room and sat him on the bed, still holding tightly in my arms. His frame was shaky but his breathing was less erratic now that he had less people watching him. Only a few sniffles were let out. "It's okay, baby boy. She's gone now."

"I didn't mean to, Jenna! She just kissed me without consent! I didn't kiss back I swear!" He pleads with me.

"Shh shh I'm not mad. I know it's not you're fault, she should never have done that. I'm so so sorry baby." I keep his head tucked into my shoulder.

I really don't think he should be at a party right now. He was just sexually harassed and is extremely stressed, far too stressed to socialise with anyone right now.

"Baby let's go home. You're way too stressed right now. We'll have our own little party, just me and you. We'll watch a couple scary movies together, make some popcorn and eat lots of candy. Whaddya say, sweetheart?" He nods and takes my hand.

We head back downstairs to tell Emma we're leaving. She's in the kitchen talking with her parents on the phone, absolutely fuming at what had just happened. I go up to her "Hey Emma we're gonna go. Y/N is really stressed out right now."

"That's okay, Jenna. Y/N I'm sorry this happened. If you ever need to talk to me, just call. Okay?" He nods at her comforting words and pulls her into a gentle embrace. "I love you both. Drive safe." We nod and head out the house.

- 45 minutes later

Me and Y/N are sitting on the couch, out costumes off and into our pyjamas. We've got popcorn, candy, chips and other snacks at the ready for our horror movie marathon, starting with "Candyman" then after that "Halloween".

Y/N moves his head to my chest. My hand made its way through his hair. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Jenna. Any longer and I think I may of had a nervous breakdown." He chuckles.

"It's alright baby. You're safe now and we're gonna have lots of fun. Just you and me." He smiles, eyes staring at my lips. I lean forward and kiss him tenderly and gently, my hand cupping his cheek as I did.

It was definitely worth leaving that party. The time I get to spend with him is better than any party.

[static-symphony-fm]

you are in love (true love)

now playing: you are in love (taylor's version)

pairing: magnus chase x fem! reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: 5 people who knew magnus was in love with you before you did + 1 sword

an: FIRST FANFIC LETS FUCKING GOOOOO this took so long to write! I love how I accidentally made it blue themed even though that's magnus's least favorite colour 😭 its ok we all know he's canonically a 1989 girly

fun fact i actually took the first picture! i shit you not I was on a road trip with my family READING MAGNUS CHASE and I look up and see THAT SIGN and i SCRAMBLED to take a picture

content/ warnings: 5+1 things, background blitzstone bcs c'mon they're basically canon, shitty writing, kissing ooo spooky, magnus being a simp, there actually isn't a whole lot of reader in this x reader fic, minor allusions to sex stuff, a lot of swearing, weird use of perspective, i was trying to go for third person limited but magnus is the one it's limited to not reader? but reader is referred to using second person? sorry if it's confusing.

1. samirah al-abbas

  if someone had told magnus a year ago that in a couple month’s time, meeting for coffee weekly with one of his best friends and not getting kicked out of the overpriced coffee shop was going to be the most normal thing in his life, he wouldn’t have believed them. probably would have flipped them off, too, and stole their wallet as he walked away. but he’d like to think that he was a changed man, seeing as he was, in fact, in a hipster café in boston, trying not to make fun of all the fancy menu options. like, seriously? who orders a dragon fruit, pomegranate, and kale smoothie?

he realized he’d been thinking for too long and returned his attention to samirah, sitting across from him and discussing wedding plans for her upcoming marriage to amir as she sipped her latte. he noticed the way her eyes seemed to get brighter, and her entire body language conveyed how excited she was as she talked about him. magnus had a fleeting thought about how good it must feel to love someone so unconditionally like that, and have them love you back just as much. 

as if reading his mind, samirah finished her sentence and studied him, tilting her head as she seemed lost in thought, peering at him like he was a calculus problem she couldn’t quite figure out. 

after a few seconds, magnus broke the silence. 

“alright, it’s getting weird. why’re you looking at me like that?”

samirah snapped out of it, focusing on what he was saying.

“nothing, just… do you think you’ll ever get married?”

jeez, that was a loaded question. magnus narrowly avoided choking on his black coffee, swallowing and burning his throat before answering.

 “sam, i’m dead.”

“so? people get married in valhalla all the time. i have been to a very disproportionate amount of weddings in the two years i worked there.”

“yeah? how many of those end in divorce?”

samirah took a long drink of her coffee, swallowing it slowly as she responded.

“forever is a very long time, and no relationship is perfect, but wouldn’t it be better to have someone to spend that time with?”

“…i guess.” magnus accepted, lost in thought. truthfully, samirah was right, like always. if circumstances were different, if he hadn’t died at sixteen, he could imagine himself getting married. settling down. living in a cabin in the forest with two kids. 

a thought came into his mind, entirely of its own accord, of doing all of that with you. your laugh, your soft hair, the way your lips curled up and your eyes widened when you smile. you’d probably be a great mom.

whoa, what the hell? he should definitely not be thinking about getting married to his friend, what the fuck? that is not normal. 

he pushed the weird thought out of his mind as best he could, gulping his coffee and focusing on the burning in his throat and not what he was just thinking. samirah had gone back to talking about amir, and magnus was not going to think about marrying you any longer.

2. alex fierro

after nearly getting his head cut off by alex’s garrote for the third time that day, magnus needed a break. alex had decided that magnus needed to learn to fight without the help of jack, and it wasn't going too well for him. he collapsed on the bench next to alex, chugging half a bottle of water before even taking a breath. alex rolled her eyes. 

“it’s not that hard, you just aren’t fast enough.”

magnus managed to control himself and not say a snarky comment back, but it was a close call. instead, he ignored her, staring straight ahead and not engaging. unfortunately, you were in his direct line of sight, sparring with mallory only a few metres away. alex picked up on this quickly, nudging his side. 

“you like watching y/n fight, huh?” she teased, smirking. damn, why did she have to be so perceptive?

“what? no. shut up.” magnus replied quickly, trying to hide his blush. “i mean… she’s a good fighter. not like i like her or anything like that.” 

“mhm. suuuure you don’t.” alex replied, definitely not believing him. fuck.

“i’m telling the truth!” magnus protested. god, how was arguing with alex harder than physically fighting her? 

“yeah. did you see her necklace today? pretty, right?”

“she’s not even wearing a neck- fuck.” magnus said instantly, before catching himself. 

“go to hell.”  he swore, glaring at alex, who was grinning at him in a way that reminded him a little too much of her mother. 

“you first.”

      3 + 4. blitzen & hearthstone

“magnus? magnus?”

a pale hand reached in front of magnus face, waving and then snapping its fingers, bringing him back to reality. he blinked and looked around at hearth and blitz, sitting across from him in the dining room of the chase space. hearth took his hand back to sign finally, raising his eyebrows sarcastically.

“your head’s way up in the clouds, kid.” blitz remarked, drumming his short, well manicured fingernails on the table, his silver engagement ring glinting.  he was right. magnus definitely was pretty out of it lately. 

probably thinking about y/n, hearth signed. jeez, why did every conversation he had have to be about you? and no, he most certainly was not thinking about you and your pretty eyes and your delicate hands and the way your ass looked in those jeans you were wearing yesterday… jesus fucking christ, he needed to stop.

 he buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly, then raised his head back up so hearth could read his lips, hoping that his blush wasn’t as visible as it felt. 

“i am not thinking about her.” he lied through his teeth. 

“there’s nothing wrong with having a crush, you know.”

ugh, why did they have to act so much like his dads? 

“i don’t have a crush!”

“kid, you’re a terrible liar. everyone can see the way you stare at that girl. now remember, if you’re doing anything intimate, you gotta use protection…”

that’s it. magnus couldn’t stand up from the table fast enough

 “nope! this conversation is ending right now. good talk!”

5. annabeth chase

magnus and annabeth had been walking around new york for the past three hours, trying to make up for the ten years spent apart.  annabeth had shown him her favorite library, and pointed out a bunch of cool architecture in nearby buildings, with a promise to show him and his friends camp half-blood in the summer.

 they were currently taking a break, stopping for lunch at a falafel place that wasn’t quite as good as fadlan’s, but it was still falafel. magnus was enjoying listening to annabeth talk about her architecture projects– she was taking online classes to prepare for the higher level of new rome university’s program. 

magnus loved listening to her talk about things he didn’t understand. as a child he’d always thought she was a genius, the way she always solved puzzles and math problems easily. ten years later, that theory still held up, hearing her go on about a bunch of terms he didn’t understand.

“sorry, i’m probably boring you to tears. you wanna talk about something else?”

annabeth offered.

“no, it’s fine… i really don’t have a lot going on.” magnus replied, smiling politely.

“come on. there’s gotta be something interesting.” an idea seemed to come to annabeth.

“you have a crush on anybody?”

magnus swallowed. 

“no.”

but he was too slow. those steel gray eyes that matched his own were locked on him like a hawk, or maybe an owl. 

“yes, you do. come on. spill!”

magnus stayed silent. he was not telling his cousin about his crushes, but those metallic eyes stayed locked on him. he eventually gave up. annabeth could be scary when she wanted to be.

“fine. fine. her name’s y/n…”

+1. jack

 it was movie night at the chase space. was magnus ever gonna stop calling it that? no. it was cool. shut up. the credits were rolling on some disney movie that alex had insisted on, and everyone else was slowly but surely making their way to their rooms, yawning as they said their good nights. you had been sitting next to magnus on the couch the whole time, and suffice it to say that he had had some trouble concentrating on the film.  

it was just you and him, you in your nirvana t-shirt and gray sweat shorts, and in that moment, he decided to tell you.

 you got up to leave, waving at him, and in a feat of bravery so incredible it would be studied by historians for centuries to come, magnus managed to work up the nerve to speak up. 

“hey, uh, can i talk to you for a sec?”

“sure? what’s up?” you asked as you sat back down.

jesus, what had he gotten himself into? it’s ok, magnus, you got this. you beat loki in a flyting. you can talk to a pretty girl. 

“uh, i was just thinking… i just…” off to a great start, aren’t we? fuck off, voice in his head. he can do this. he took a deep breath.

“i really like you. you're gorgeous and funny and so insanely smart. i’m an atheist but i’m praying to god you feel the same way. will you be my girlfriend?”

you bit your lip, breaking eye contact as you looked off into the distance. fuck. you were gonna say no and then he was never gonna be able to talk to you again and he was gonna have to change his name and move to canada…

“can i kiss you?” 

what.

there were a million things magnus expected you to say, but that was none of them. he managed to stutter out a simple “please…” and then you leaned forward and your lips were on his and magnus chase died.

this felt more like the end of his life than being knocked off a burning bridge and drowning did. his heart was beating a million times a second, and he seemed to have forgotten how breathing worked. your lips were softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

 he managed to reciprocate a little, mostly acting on instinct, and all he could think about was how astronomically better this was than jackie molotov in the seventh grade.

what was he supposed to do with his hands? he was pretty sure that keeping them at his side was the wrong answer, so he moved one to your waist and the other one to the back of your neck, tangling it gently in your soft hair as his lips moved against yours.

gods, he could have stayed like that until ragnarök, but his stupid sword had to ruin the moment. jack started buzzing on his neck sleepily, seeming to have been woken up ungraciously. he hoped that you couldn’t feel it, but that was pretty unlikely, considering how close you were to him. jeez, he was blushing more and more every time he thought about that. 

eventually, you pulled away, smiling a little. 

“good night, magnus.”

he nodded, unable to form words, and managed to stand up and walk back to his room, wide eyed, operating on autopilot. he walked into his room and immediately collapsed backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling without blinking, completely still. not a thought passed through his mind for at least ten minutes, till he finally was able to reach up and pull jack’s pendant off of his necklace.

“dude, what happened to blades before babes!?!”

[live-laugh-legolas]

Allô!

For your Fellowship requests thingy, may I, pretty please, ask you to consider, the Fellowship's favourite individual clothing items? Sort of like what colour it is, and like whether it's their favourite because it's dramatic af or 'cuz it's really comfy or very sentimental or something? I hope this makes sense! 🙃

Btw, your headcanons are the best things ever, I love when I find a new post of yours on my dash! Makes me smile every time! 😊💙

Thank you so much! You’re too sweet :)

Their favorite article of clothing

Aragorn:

-I mean my first thought was obviously Arwen’s necklace but that feels like a cheat answer

-He definitely isn’t someone to easily get attached to material objects

-Life as a ranger doesn’t really allow for that

-However I could see him maybe being a bit attached to an old cloak

-He has newer ones but he keeps returning to the “old reliable” that isn’t very reliable because it is only patches at this point

-Maybe it was a gift from his Mother

-It is a bit short on him as well (let’s not forget he is canonically 6’6”)

-So now it’s more of a “blankie” than something he actually wears

Legolas:

-He is very particular about his shoes

-They have to be light and so he can feel the ground through them

-More like socks with a thin sole and maybe some ankle support if he’s feeling fruity

-He won’t wear anything that is constricting

-In general he is picky about how his clothes feel

-Some materials just give him the ick

-Once as a kid his father made him wear a formal outfit that was too itchy and he straight up stripped in front of guests; and he doesn’t regret it, he would do it again

-He doesn’t care much how his clothes look though; he bases his choice on feel and mobility

-He’s so pretty he could literally wear garbage and still look stunning

-In general he prefers his clothes to be simple and practical

Gimli:

-Armor

-Specifically his shoulder pads

-You might think they have some sort of sentimental value to them

-But really he just likes how they look

-They broaden his already broad shoulders which makes him feel very attractive

-Probably has some jewelry that was gifted to him that he is very proud of

Boromir:

-He absolutely has a silk robe at home

-I imagine it being a pale blue

-I would say silk pjs but he gets too hot while sleeping to wear them

-So a robe is perfect

-Especially after a bath; silk robe and comfy slippers

-Has worn it out and given a few innocent bystanders a bit of an eyeful

-Faramir often has to tell him to get dressed; he’s creating a poor image for himself and he scared a maid

Frodo:

-This hobbit has like 3 outfits he wears

-Not that he doesn’t have other clothes

-He has a whole dresser full; but he just wears the same thing basically everyday

-And the variations he does are just in color; he bought the same thing in every color

-He doesn’t have to think about what he is going to wear; he already knows; he wore it yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that

-Has a handmade scarf from Bilbo trying to teach him to knit

-Does Bilbo knit? Not really, but he gets the gist of it

Sam:

-He has one really nice vest he got as a hand me down from his old gaffar

-And he only wears it for really special occasions

-Very careful with it; nothing will spill on it

-Takes it off immediately when he gets home so he is wearing it for as little time as possible so it doesn’t get worn out (and so he doesn’t feel like he needs to wash it)

-Washing it could ruin it and it wouldn’t smell right

-And that’s a risk he won’t take

Merry:

-I could totally see Merry being a hat guy

-Not like normal caps or anything

-But if anyone has seen Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium there is a boy in the film who collects unique hats

-He doesn’t wear them all but he is very proud of his collection

-He has a themed hat for every occasion

-Very fond of his flowery sunhat; it’s practical and cute

Pippin:

-Ok, hear me out

-He is very serious about his underwear

-Definitely has a “lucky pair”

-Don’t knock it; everyone has a favorite pair

-He claims it “holds everything like a nice hug”

-Not shy about it either; will go into specifics about why a pair is super horrible

-“There is a seam that goes right on up there. And it’s awful! I can’t be going all day fishing around my-“ “alright we get it Pip”

Gandalf:

-I’m pretty sure this man has one set of clothes and they are very shabby

-Like I’m sorry but his robes definitely have a strong scent; not necessarily bad, but certainly earthy and like an attic

-How they have lasted so long no one knows; probably some magic or something

-He does have a pair of gloves Bilbo made as a gift that he treasures

-Are they lopsided? Yes

-Do they have some holes from missing a stitch? Also yes

-Does he care? Absolutely not

———————————————————————

I lost my favorite sweatshirt while on vacation recently and I definitely had a mental breakdown… I still grieve for it months later

[mrsnancywheeler]

i have returned with another idea

so in my head, i think that District 4 has a cute lil celebration every summer in that goes from 8pm to midnight. basically, in order to kinda boost moral for all 12-18 year olds in the District, an event is held every year at the plaza and it’s orchestrated by lots of the adults. the whole plaza gets decorated with sea shells and handmade decorations in a variety of blue colours. it’s all very ocean themed and they call it ‘The Ocean Festival’. It’s basically a huge party which includes, music, dancing, food and even some cute lil games like trying to hook those little plastic ducks.

But there is a main event. The day of the festival, the adults put the name of every single 12-18 year old on seashells (separately) and then all of the kids scatter them across the ocean. There is a singular crabbing pot that will pick up a random shell. it’s somewhere in the ocean that only one adult knows the location of.

Nearing to the end of the festival, that adult swims out and collects the crab pot, and whoever’s shell is inside is crowned as ‘The Oceans Chosen One’. It’s such a cute tradition because whoever is crowned literally gets this cool crown made of shells. Idk why but i always think of Voulez-Vous by ABBA when thinking about District 4- so i can just imagine that song playing while everyone is dancing around the ‘Ocean’s chosen one’. (like the dance in Mama Mia with Voulez-Vous)

But i think you can tell where im finally going with this. So when reader is 16, she is crowned as the ‘chosen one’ and of course everyone is happy because everyone loves her. so everyone is dancing around her and i can just imagine Finnick watching from a distance, just admiring her. Sadly, this was some time after he broke up with her, so he couldn’t be the one dancing with her in the middle of the circle. So instead, Conway was.

Finnick would literally be seething with anger as he watches Conway dance with his sweet girl in the middle of the circle. he’s spinning her, lifting her up and what not. Finnick just glares at Conway’s hands on readers waist as he picks her up and lifts her into the air. All he can think about is how he wishes he could be the one lifting his sweet girl up, and how beautiful she looks with the seashell crown on her head.

sorry for rambling but i’ve been thinking of this all day after listening to Voulez-Vous in the morning and i actually couldn’t stop😭😭

I love this so so much 💋💋💋💋

reader would totally be helping decorate with conway's siblings, just having the time of their life. swimming around to find what they all feel the best places are. and finnick is left to participate with his fair weather friends, he probably 'forgets' to put his in, he doesn't need to win anything else. but he's definitely got an eye on his sweet girl all night.

nobody's really dressed fancy, but it's their non-working, nicer clothing in blues and whites on top of their swimsuits. victors usually buy the food from the markets so the food is better then usual for most of the district. people play music, dance, eat, while waiting for 11:00 when the oceans chosen one is finally announced. reader is fluttering around in her flowy blue sundress, talking to nearly everyone, and even though he's surrounded by people finnick feels so lonely to know you'll never make your rounds over to him. the finally the time has come and it's your name, and finnick's ecstatic to see his sweet girl getting the attention she deserves, the sweet, loving kind from the children and people there.

you look so ethereal in the moonlight shining off the seashell crown, then it's time to dance and the chosen one always gets to pick someone to be their partner for it. and for a split second your eyes catch finnick's before you're moving on to grab conway's hand. and finnick wishes nothing more then to be up there with you, with his pretty girl. but it's you and conway, he just has to sit on the sidelines now.

(kind of a sick parallel for a year later her to be picked at the reaping with conway, while finnick is once again on the sidelines. the ocean chose her, but so did the Capitol)

and you're growing up, so is conway, and finnick can tell that's only made him love you more. with the way conway is looking at you, touching you, holding you, acting like he's the one who's meant to be there. even if finnick's view is obscured by the circles of people he can't bear it without thinking about how badly he wants to be holding his sweet girl's hand right now. so he makes up an excuse to go home to his so-called friends. and leaves, not before nicking your shell, the only part of you he can hold close now.

and when you notice he's gone it's almost enough to ruin your mood because having his eyes on you is the only way you've been able to have his presence in so long. but this is what your life is going to be, so you'll have to get used to it. even if it hurts that he can't celebrate with you.

I think district 4 is so abba coded overall, like idk how to explain it, they just are 💋💋💋💋

[runwayrunway]

No. 1 - Lufthansa

We begin with a large fish even by the standards of the large pond in which we operate. A very intentionally chosen large fish. Deutsche Lufthansa is Germany’s flag carrier and the second largest carrier in all of Europe by passenger volume. In 2018, they unveiled a new standard livery for their fleet of airplanes, and it...well. It’s this. 

Even the presentation - good lord, is this an auto show?

My feelings on Lufthansa’s 2018 livery are visceral. There’s no mental evaluation required, no taking it in, thinking about the choices made - I look at the modern Lufthansa livery and immediately, profoundly know that I hate it. And that’s not just because of the specific choices made - which are bad - but because of the space they occupy amidst a creatively barren wasteland within livery design. This is going to be a very long post, which isn’t standard for this blog, but my goal for an introduction is to break down exactly the sort of design that made me feel the need to start doing this to begin with. 

But in reality that’s only the beginning. Yes, Lufthansa’s livery is specifically disappointing, but it is so much more than that. It is the purest distillation of the greatest challenge aviation faces today, far weightier than scheduling issues, outdated IT, and runway incursions. It is not the worst example of it, not in the slightest, but it is a large airline which has a very textbook presentation of symptoms and thus feels like a great example to describe exactly what I hate about this sort of design. Let me explain. 

Essentially, airlines have found a formula. It goes as such: 

Almost entirely white body. (There is a name for this trend: Eurowhite.) In some cases, there may be a colour on the underside, generally either a light grey or whichever secondary shade the airline has committed to. In the case of this Lufthansa livery, it is just white. 

Aside from the white body there will be either a single colour (generally some dark blue, or less often some sort of red) or a few colours, usually but not exclusively on flag carriers to match their national branding. (The proliferation of red, white, and blue flags out there means that a disproportionate number of airline liveries are these colours.) Unless it is literally just a white plane meant to be as generic as possible for short turn-overs when leasing, it will at least attempt to have some sort of design, but it will be minimal, and:

All of the detail will be on the tail. There may be coloured winglets or engine nacelles, but other than that it is only at the rear of the plane that you begin to see any interest. Usually this is just a logo, though it may be an abstract design which looks like a default tumblr header. It will often only be on the tail, with nothing at all on the body proper.

The name of the airline written in a sans-serif typeface which is set as default on at least one word processor. Rarely will anything creative be done with this. It will (usually, except in egregious cases) match the impotent attempt at graphic design which has been confined to the empennage and it will have all the charm of a large retail chain’s flyer describing the benefits you’ll definitely totally get if you work for them - sickeningly corporate. Low-cost airlines may slightly vary the theme by putting their website onto the livery, either towards the back or just instead of the airline’s name. The brave will also write it on the ventral fairing, but most don’t even bother with that simple act. Some airlines have their name written in the language spoken in the country they’re based in, usually beside the English text, but most are only in English despite operating in countries where this is not the most widely spoken language. 

Not every livery which has these features is badly designed, as seemingly small changes can make all the difference. There is the occasional livery that fits most, if not all of these features that has some clever tweaks or design choices which makes me actually think it’s fine, acceptable, maybe even decent. (I have taken the initiative of making sure a few of these are among my early posts, just to demonstrate that it can be done). And some airlines depart from this entirely and come up with something even more hideous. Yet I somehow find myself respecting even these more than I do Lufthansa. 

The Corporate Standard Livery Design (Lufthansesque design, if you will) is - and I do not think I am being dramatic at all here - an epidemic. Taxiing through most airports, you sometimes have to actually try to tell the planes parked around you apart in the sea of red, blue, and mostly white. And I spend a lot of time looking at planes.  

These liveries do not only fail to inspire me. They instill in me a profound disgust. They are not trying to be good. They are trying to be what I described earlier - decent, not worth complaining about, because that’s cheaper and easier than designing something good. Graphic design is not anyone’s passion here. They’re just trying to toe the line. They’re so poisoned by the modern minimalist-design brain virus that they don’t realise that to be acceptable a livery this simple needs to do something interesting. There must be a creative decision made somewhere, a compelling feature, or you may as well be flying an MLA-formatted plane. In their striving for adequacy they become not just ambient, but lukewarm. They are a bottle of water which has sat in the sun for so long that when you drink it, even though you’re overheating and parched, it feels only negligibly better than the air you’ve been breathing in. 

To be fair, I do not only hate the Lufthansa paintjob because it exemplifies whatever-ness. Even in an industry saturated with gross in-flight nothingburgers served with some stale biscuits and a paper cup of Lipton tea, Lufthansa manages to offend in specific and unique ways. 

Throughout its long history Lufthansa has had a handful of different liveries, but from 2018 onwards this has been the situation. They’ve never been brilliant, but it’s only gotten worse over time. I normally would commit to a separate post for historical liveries, but in a move that I don’t foresee becoming particularly common I’d like to talk about the history and evolution of Lufthansa’s liveries from the golden age to now - the fall, if you will. 

(image: lufthansa bildarchiv)

Their early liveries were already pretty much plain white or metal, but they still had a few features that made them seem a bit less like photocopy paper which was meant to be printed plain blue but only got through a tenth of the sheet before ink ran out. To begin with, they used a lighter blue and combined it with a vivid yellow to add some actual visual interest. The layering of the yellow over the blue where it curves around and below the nose and on the ends of the tailplane actually draws the eye. The font choice is nice and legible, spaced apart in the center of the fuselage. I imagine it was easy to read even from far away. (Shame it’s a bit blocked by the wings from some angles, though.)

(image: lufthansa bildarchiv)

This early 707 design keeps the cheatlines extending past the nose but makes them sharper than the ones on the Connie to match the sleek profile of the jet. Back when this plane was painted adding white to your plane was a choice rather than the thing everybody was doing, which allows me to respect it for the choice it was instead of considering it the factory default. The bottom half, denoted by the cheatline, is left unpainted, which only adds to the sleekness of the overall profile, and the text is clear and plain but still aesthetically pleasing. The 707 is by modern standards pretty antique-looking; you can take one look at one and tell it isn’t particularly streamlined. This paint scheme, though, makes the plane look sharp and aerodynamic, despite not being revolutionary. I would go so far as to say I like this particular livery. This is, unfortunately, as good as it gets. 

Oh. Oh no...

Let’s assess the damage here. The cheatlines now simply meet at the front without wrapping down to the belly of the plane and the nose is a simple black tip. I like it when airlines paint their planes’ radomes, and I wouldn’t mind it here if not for what it was replacing. The font has been replaced with a generic sans serif font which is closely spaced and put up into a corner, like the name on a homework assignment - it’s not really part of the total package, just there for administrative purposes. Most upsetting to me is the tail. While I wouldn’t say I love the little section on the old plane, it at least felt like it belonged there, creating a second blue-and-yellow layer above the white. Its placement on the fin above where it begins to taper gives the plane a bit of an aerodynamic feel. It’s certainly not changing the world, but it feels at home in the livery. 

The new fin is a sharp downgrade. With nothing to mark the transition the fin abruptly goes from the white of the upper fuselage to a shiny blue which contains an enclave of the only yellow to be found on the entire aircraft. This makes the yellow stand out, as it has nothing to tie it in with the rest of the plane, and the fin itself feels almost like it’s been Frankensteined onto the fuselage from a different plane by a different airline. There’s nothing to mediate the transition from a block of white to a block of blue, like how the cheatline separates white and grey. It just is blue now, stop asking questions. This also means that the only part of the plane that the eye is really drawn to is...the tiny portion of the whole that is the fin, which may as well be floating detached in midair. 

This is foreboding. Knowing what I know now, it feels like looking back at when a romantic partner began to act strange years later, after the divorce, as you walk by the house he bought with his mistress. 

(image: g najberg)

The most recent, and only, time I flew on Lufthansa was in 2014 and was aboard one of their 747-400s. (Actually, if you’d still like to fly on a passenger 747, Lufthansa is basically your only option.) At the time, they looked like this. This is...just sad. They got rid of the cheatlines, because that’s trendy now, and they painted the whole plane white and made an attempt at lip service to the old metal lower half by painting just a bit of the plane grey, like if a human stepped into a puddle of paint that only covered the very sole of their foot. And I’m being generous by showing a 747, a plane which inherently makes any livery look less boring by being interestingly shaped itself, instead of the classic slightly pointy single-decker tube. Not to mention the double-decker design makes the text vertically centered instead of the default Lufthansa look of awkwardly shoved nearly all the way up the fuselage. 

In defense of the modern livery, it’s possible to argue it’s an improvement on this. Honestly, looking at them next to each other, it’s difficult to pick out which one I find less defensible. 

But then you see D-AIDV, an A321 painted in a heritage livery, and you feel the immediate, visceral “no!!! no go back!!!” as you remember that this is a false dichotomy and we could have something so much better if they weren’t peer-pressured into generic modern design. 

And for what? For this?

(image: hvdfonts)

For the third time, I remind you of what we have been reduced to. We have achieved a state of reductio ad absurdum where this barely qualifies as a design. This plane is more or less a white blot. You can put as many insets as you want and it is still a white blot. 

I am relatively sure that the font used is literally Helvetica. EDIT: I have been informed that it is not, in fact, Helvetica, but a custom typeface that happens to look almost exactly like Helvetica. This is, in my own opinion, worse! They did apparently use Helvetica in the past, though. Here is a very detailed description of the design process of the font, which manages to contain a grand total of zero ideas. 

I would hate this on its own already, but it’s also so closely spaced and located so far up that it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. In my own experience as a dyslexic person, kerning is the single weightiest feature when it comes to if I can easily read something or not. While Helvetica, ugly though it may be, is generally considered a very legible font, any benefits from that are more than cancelled out by committing to making sure the entire name of the airline fits between the frontmost two doors with room to spare. It feels almost hostile.

Now, all given, I at least somewhat enjoy the shade of blue used for this livery, which is darker than the normal fare. I do miss the way the grey broke up the endless white space, though, and I mourn the yellow even more - in addition to being something to look at, losing it has also lost any visible reference to the flag of Germany, the country for which Lufthansa is the flag carrier. They don’t even have the black part of the German flag despite that being basically free. If they went for black instead of dark blue I would honestly respect this a hell of a lot more. One of the most recognizable flags in the world and instead your airline looks like a discount SAS.  

Yeah, I said it. If we want to go even further with comparisons by including airlines that aren’t Lufthansa, this is basically the SAS livery. Except not, because the SAS livery does a lot that this doesn’t. 

This is about Lufthansa, not SAS. I’ll look at SAS soon enough, because comparing their look to Lufthansa’s has made me appreciate it in a way I never used to. But I don’t think I need to elaborate too much for it to be clear why SAS’s livery works and Lufthansa’s doesn’t, despite the superficial similarities. SAS took their absolutely horrid previous livery and turned it into something which might not wow anyone but at least feels uniquely theirs, while Lufthansa had something which accomplished much the same and then diluted it into nothingness, Eurowhite writ large. Two washes and you’d wonder if your Lufthansa flight is actually a Smartlynx lease.  

The way that the blue slices into the bottom of the fuselage and doesn’t fully cover the tailfin is...something? It’s a design element. It’s not nearly enough to save it, but it’s a design element. However, this presents another issue specific to Lufthansa’s paint job, best demonstrated with a specific plane: 

(image: lufthansa)

Lufthansa is the world’s largest operator of the Airbus A340, a somewhat eccentric airplane which is perhaps best thought of as a four-engined A330. I love this airplane, and am delighted seeing it overhead on my walk home from work, because Lufthansa is kind enough to operate a daily service with it to my home airport, but that’s beside the point. The point is this: what I have pictured is specifically the A340-600, which is the world’s second longest in-service airliner. Yes, longer than the A380 and the 747-400, and, in fact, only shorter than the 747-800. With a plane this long, the Lufthansa livery creates an incredible look of rear-heaviness. This plane looks like it should uncontrollably pitch up until it’s perpendicular to the ground every time it takes off. Of course this effect is less pronounced on shorter aircraft, but it’s still there, and I dislike it. 

You can barely even tell there’s paint at all on a much smaller plane! And the white bit on the front of the rudder which looks okay on a conventional empennage looks downright horrible when it’s only on the very tip of the t-tail’s forward point. 

Oh, and when you take the windows out for a freighter conversion it gets even worse. 

This is a generic-brand airplane. It genuinely reminds me of generic branding. There is a specific brand that has this exact appearance and I can’t remember what it is but it’s right there and I’m fairly sure I’ve seen it at CVS. I don’t think that’s what you want to go for when designing an airline livery, especially for an airline representing a country, but if Lufthansa wasn’t going for that they’ve failed. 

                  __________________________________________

Overall, Lufthansa’s livery is superbly boring and not terribly well thought out. It’s not worth this absolute dissertation on its own, but I’ve singled it out to complain about general trends, and for that I probably owe it an apology. Said apology is predicated on the fact that it is still a very underwhelming and bad design which could have used a lot more thought. There are a million ways this could have been made decent, and none of them were implemented because that would have taken effort and time and creative vision. I think this post actually required more time and effort than Lufthansa put into designing their planes. 

That said, Lufthansa gets a final grade of D. It’s...bad, it definitely is. There’s the vague flavour of the start of something, like the very distant smell from a barbecue happening three blocks away, but is that really even a redeeming factor? 

No. The second-largest airline in Europe should be able to do better. If I have to stare at rows upon rows of their planes any time I’m at a German airport, they should have the decency to make them interesting to look at. 

[miirshroom]

The Moon of Nokstella - The Language of Elements

A while back I counted the gemstones and found that the sides of the moon of Nokstella are not equal. I did this because I had a thought that it might be a kind of dot diagram for an atom surrounded by electrons. It's not the only item where I speculate this, there are many shields where similarly I am interested in counting the rivets. So the assumption here is that there is a story around the synthesis of element 38 from elements 34 and 4.

Element 34 is Selenium, which was named for a Roman goddess of the moon. It is a dark silvery metal. This immediately seems to confirm my suspicion considering the dark moon theme of the talisman.

Element 4 is Beryllium, which is a component of the Beryl gemstone. These are all Beryls:

If it is assumed that the 34 surrounding gemstones are also beryls for consistency then they have a good colour match with aquamarine, while the 4 quadrant Beryls resemble maxixe. The colour of aquamarine is generally stable (it is made by trace amounts of iron), though it can be intensified with heat treatment. The colour of maxixe is artificial due to radiation and will fade over time. Clear goshenite is the mother of all beryl's because it can treated to re-colour it to the others.

Aquamarine and Bloodstone are the two birthstones for March. The corresponding zodiac signs would be Pisces and Aries assuming Western astrology (sun signs) or Aquarius and Pisces by Vedic astrology (moon signs).

Element 38 is Strontium. It is a soft metal that is silvery but rapidly tarnishes to a dull yellow when exposed to air. It burns red in a colour similar to Elden Ring's bloodflame:

It was named after the Scottish village of Strontian (Sròn an t-S��thein), which means "nose of the fairy hill". The overall color of the talisman recalls that there is a nebulous blue fairy and/or dancer in the lore. And "Siofra" means "changeling" in reference to the fairy creature.

Combine with the above knowledge of Aquarius, the fixed air sign that sweeps away the past to make room for something new, and this implies that a fairy changeling was created by the power of the metallic moon and stone. And that was the beginning of the ancient wolf-and-sheep themed blood dynasty.

Fragments and updates from my earlier speculation about the creation myth(s) of the Lands Between. Presented in format of trumpet sounds to herald what is to come in the following astrological sign:

Scorpio: An existing world ruled by what would eventually come to be known as the God of Rot. 1st trumpet - hail and fire mingled with blood thrown to earth. Scorched 1/3 of the Earth.

Ophiuchus: 1st Day: "Let there be light". Memory of grace. Light of the rising sun reflecting on the water 2nd trumpet - great mountain burning with fire, 1/3 of the land turned red.

Sagittarius: 2nd Day: Creation of the Firmament (i.e. the heavens and the sky) 3rd trumpet - star called wormwood poisons 1/3 of fresh water sources (wormwood is also called "absinthe sage"). This star is quite likely the Elden Beast, but could be an Astel.

Capricorn: 3rd Day: Creation of dry ground and plants. Likely creation of an Erdtree, or a certain species of tree in general. 4th trumpet - 1/3rd of the light from the sun, moon and stars goes dark.

Aquarius: 4th Day: Creation of sun, moon, and stars - creation of a black moon? Or representing a moon cycle - the emergence of an illuminated full moon from the previous new (dark) moon? 5th trumpet - the first woe. A star falls from heaven, with Scorpion-like tail. Creatures are eradicated unless they have a certain sign on their foreheads. The Scorpion-like tail again may reference Astel, more likely than the Elden Beast.

Pisces: 5th Day: Creation of birds and sea creatures - Creation of sea life could be re-contextualized as eradication of all sea-life that does not fit within a strict definition (considering how rare it is to see true sea creatures in the game and especially the lack of fish). Creation of birds likely corresponds to creation of the Twinbird, considering that Pisces is associated with two fish moving in different directions, or with the swallow bird in the Babylonian zodiac. 6th trumpet - the second woe - 4 angels released from binds in River Euphrates.

Aries: 6th Day: Creation of land animals and humans - created with a Cardinal fire sign. Origin of bloodflame, probably, for the warm blood that is poetically considered the animating source of life for humans and mammals. 7th trumpet - the third woe - kingdom of the world becomes kingdom of the Lord. Presumably Placidusax, the first Elden Lord.

Moon of Nokstella

This legendary talisman is a treasure of Nokstella, the Eternal City. Increases memory slots. This talisman represents the lost black moon. The moon of Nokstella was the guide of countless stars.

At my current guess, I would place the mythical black moon of Nokstella as dating back to the ancient era of Aquarius. For context of what that means relative to other points on the timeline, I expect that the era of Scorpio corresponds to the desolation of Rauh and origin of the ancient God of Rot (scorpions and all). The Abyssal Serpent (Ophiuchus) arrives being "hail and fire mixed with blood" that "scorched 1/3 of the earth". And is followed by the Primordial Crucible - a giant fiery volcano - in the mutable fire sign of Sagittarius as heralded by the 2nd trumpet and demonstrated by the presence of Crucible Knight Denovia with the centaur Aspect of the Crucible. The wing of Astel is a curved sword such as those used by the Warrior character class who resembles the folkloric dancer in blue, and Astel itself has the appearance of a monstrous blue fairy - thus the Ancient God of Rot was also sealed at this time of change represented by Pisces.

And this weaving of chemistry, astrology, birthstones, Abrahamic creation myth, Christian book of Revelations and fairytale folklore is one example of how the timeline is complex, but it's possible to assemble a shape for even the more nebulous earlier points by identifying and dissecting the mythology inspirations. There are certainly other layers relating to the creation myths of other cultures, but this is as far as I intend to speculate based on the Moon of Nokstella alone.

[stardewstardropthoughts]

When you and Elliott decide to have a baby

This is an Elliot and afab reader but all are free to read! Minors don’t read below the cut please lol

When you guys decide to start trying for a baby after getting married he’s thrilled

He’s always wanted a little family, the sounds of little feet running on hardwood, children’s laughter to flow through the otherwise silent rooms

He’s thinking of cute nursery décor immediately, he’s got a whole colour scheme picked out

Will paint an ocean theme on the walls if you’ll let him, cute shells and sea life painted on sandy walls with ocean views

Will buy your baby some very cute onesies with little crabs and palm trees on them

Your kids first spirits eve costumes definitely a crab

When the kid is born? Tears

He’s sobbing while holding your son, he’s got your hair colour and Elliot’s eyes

Elliot can’t stop looking at this little bundle of joy in his arms, wrapped in a light blue blanket sleeping peacefully

You don’t get to do any farm chores for the first few weeks after the birth, not for lack of trying on your part but Elliot and the other members of the community are all to quick to stop and take over for you

Jody and robin both bring you guys a bunch of freezer meals and casseroles so you don’t have to cook for a while after

Elliot loves reading to your son together

Absolutely will write some children’s books for your son, he doesn’t want to publish them though because they’re special and just for your little family

“Elliott” you had hesitated at first with asking about his interest in having children and if he were ready for such a large step in your relationship after having been married for a year now. “Hm, yes my love? What is it?” He smiled fondly up at you from his writing desk where he’s been for the better part of the morning. “What do you think about having a baby? Together?” You we’re avoiding eye contact at this point since your nerves were frying, he seemed surprised at the question but before you got the chance to start backtracking he stood from his desk and gently grabbed your chin between his thumb and for fingers tilting your head to look at him “I think that’s a marvellous idea my love, why don’t we start now?”

“Elliot fuck…please I’m so close” you whine as your fingers tighten their grip in his hair, his tongue working gentle circles on your clit while he has two fingers pumping skillfully in and out of your soaked cunt. Thighs tightened around his head as you hit your climax “that’s it my love, cum on my tongue” Elliot praised you though muffled slightly. Soon he was kissing his way up your quivering body, every touch gentle and purposefully setting your nerves alight once more with anticipation for what is to come, a gentle yet very passionate kiss pressed to your lips so you could taste yourself on his mouth as he pressed his cock inside your tight cunt. You let out a small gasp, he always made you feel so full. “You take me so well love, be a good girl for me and let me fill you up, alright? I know you can”

[mooropitant399]

@bxrningdragxn and I made some headcanons about Steven’s family possibly celebrating lunar new year bc of course ‘Tis the season after all!!

Steven definitely adheres to the tradition of new clothes every new year :)) he probably doesn’t wear the traditional prosperous colours but definitely leans towards shades of dark blue/forest green for his suit (no grey/black bc bad luck!!) but he does wear a nice red tie/cravat! On a year that he’s feeling extra festive, he wears patterns!

His dad’s side of the family is small, so it’s mostly his mum’s side that come to visit. His mum’s family is definitively less well off so reunion dinner is always held at the Stone mansion.

Steven’s cousin used to be pretty decent but grew up alongside the golden boy with the silver hair so has a chip on his shoulder, he’s always trying to one-up him by showing off his wife and his new glittery watch, or that his child’s in Oxford’s kindergarten programme, the rest of his cousins are just kinda /there/, most are just showing up as an obligation lol and waiting for those big red packets from daddy stone’s pocket

His aunties are no better are is always trying to be nosy like “when are you getting a partner, oh you haven’t taken over Devon yet hmmm, did you lose/gain weight this year” or are boasting abt their kids

Honestly Joseph and Steven hate it but to honour Mum’s memory (named Sharon in my hc) they still have them around every year

Steven’s favourite part is to play with his nieces and nephews because even though they remind him of his youth playing with his cousin before he got obsessed with being better than him

But but his relationship with his cousin improves when he finally gets an s/o because they give the cousin a firm talking to the first time they come round, cos cousin makes a snarky comment abt him and s/o straight up is like “why are you saying such mean things abt him? Are you jealous of him? Lny is about the family gathering again after a long year, he’s travelled a long way to see you and the rest of the family at his dad’s home and he always looks forward to catching up with you, please respect him as much as he respects you” and cousin is like damn… my bad

And yes they eat lots and lots and lots of lny snacks! also Steven matches outfit themes w his s/o once they come into his life :))

[ellecdc]

Hi amazing writer! I just finished come back, be here and it was AMAZING!!

I just wanted to ask about the orbs -which is such a creative idea and so well thought out. I mean I’m kind of convinced you were a ghost writer for Harry Potter. But besides the incredible idea, I was wondering which colors represented who?

We know Sirius is silver, Lily is orange, and James is red -but what about the rest? I tried thinking guessing of who is who by the borders but it still stumped me.

Amazing and mind breaking writing sweetheart, you’re genuinely a literary gem and genius.

CW: CBBH spoilers below if you haven't already finished

Hi hi hi hi FIRST OF ALL I love you, thank you so much for writing me 🫶 I'm so glad you enjoyed that piece! Definitely a favourite of mine and tbh, I have like 3-4 different versions of CBBH saved onto my desktop because I was so entrenched in that plot -> different pairings, different themes (some way darker etc) so I'm so glad everyone is enjoying it as much as I do!

As for our orbs, let's pull it up, shall we??? ..... *drum roll* .....

okay so like you've already pointed out, the red is James (Gryffindor), the orange is Lily (her hair), the yellow is Remus (the moon), and Sirius is silver (his eyes). The only other orbs I discussed in CBBH were the black and the green. I never explained who they were, but for me the black orb was Regulus (last name Black) and the green was Narcissa (Slytherin).

I made the core characters (Moony, Pads, Prongs, Lily) larger because of the amount of memories that Vix needed to store (these were some of her longest friends) and then the amount of work Cissa and Reg put in with her made their orbs fairly large too.

I imagined the little mauve orb (between Sirius and Remus) to be baby Harry (she'd not known him for long), and the little baby blue orb to be Draco.

The other colours were added to represent various members of the Order that she would have protected when subjected to torture/legilimency etc. (& just think, one of the orbs would have been her memories of Wormtail as her friend 🤢) I imagine there were more orbs along different strings/paths, but these were the ones I emphasized in our borders.

Fun fact! The very first hint I gave that suggested Reg was the spy (other than the form of a cat running in the forest) was when Vix asked Sirius if his hair was shorter when they knew each other in chapter one! 🥰

Thanks for being here with me, you're the best!! 🫶

[sailxrmxrs]

so. it's been a few months. OOPS. the creative juices have not been flowing lately BUT WE ARE SO BACK. and getting festive!! today we're decorating for christmas with our beloved infinite blue boys. this one won't be full fics but more so thoughts strung together. throwing my brain at my computer screen and seeing what sticks type beat. shoutout to itsu for the art that made me go insane abt the boys and desperate to write smth again. also shoutout to ito for listening to me ramble my thoughts aloud. always a pleasure to brainrot with u. determined to try and get back to regular writing but we shall see how that goes LMAO. for now enjoy christmas decorating gamers WOOOO.

♡ leo ♡

Leo gets SO excited for Christmas time. He loves seeing the neighbourhood lit up with strings of lights and bright displays of festivity. He's not one to hold back either with his own decorations. Leo has built up a rather eclectic collection of decorations and baubles for his Christmas tree, most of them being movie references or themed. Stormtrooper wearing a Santa hat, a resin hanging decoration made to look like a stack of Lord of the Rings books, that sort of thing. He excitedly asks what sort of fun decorations you own or want to get because he wants the tree to match both of your interests. Definitely surprises you with a few that he thinks you'll like, barely able to contain himself. Leo is bad at keeping presents a surprise. He just loves seeing how excited you get!! Very much the embodiment of golden retriever boyfriend. Always. I can see Leo also having some decorations with sentimental value too. Like this one bauble he painted as a kid that's definitely not the prettiest mix of colours, but it brings back memories of childhood and excitedly trying to stay up late to see Santa leaving presents behind. He LOVES good christmas tradition too. Every Christmas Eve he's watching the same movie (probably Home Alone) with an array of snacks laid out to enjoy. He loves getting to share it all with you too as well as starting new traditions for future Christmases together. For example, this year he dumped strips of coloured paper on the floor, put his Christmas playlist on, and declared you were both making paper chains and paper snowflakes to hang around the house with the tinsel already on display. There's no such thing as too many decorations in Leo's world so I hope you're prepared for your home to look like a festive spirit exploded in every room. Bonus note he also owns sets of festive pyjamas specifically for December and will only wear these. If it's not Christmas related he isn't touching it. Also owns slippers made to look like reindeer.

♡ milo ♡

Milo might just be the worst one to decorate for Christmas with. He's never really been overly fussed about buying decorations or a tree and has literally nothing of the sort at home. He hadn't even considered the thought that you might want to indulge a little and spend a day or two putting up lights or finding a tree for your shared living room. When you do mention the idea to him, Milo is somewhat surprised, but will nod along that sure you can get a tree. Will suggest you buy one of those pop-up trees that comes with the ornaments already attached because it's easier and will only take a couple minutes to set up and put into place. It takes a lot of convincing to sway him away from that idea. He doesn't seem to realise that half the fun is spending hours fighting the tangled mess of lights, or finding that one specific ornament you bought a few years ago just to hang front and centre on the tree. Will only agree to it if you promise to buy him an early Christmas present too. Bribery is a wonderful tool for convincing Milo to join in all the traditional couple behaviours and outings. He'll enjoy it once he's there and sees how much you're enjoying yourself, but will make a point to complain about the weather, or that he's getting bored looking at different variations of the same lights. His boredom is easily cured by a request to get food before heading home. Once you're home, he offers to reach all the tallest parts you can't reach, but not before making a smug joke about how you only asked him to help because you wanted the extra pair of hands. At the end of it all, he'll be stood behind you, arms enclosed around you and pulling your back against his chest. Will rest his chin atop your head and admit that yes, he had a lot of fun today and yes he will do it again next year. Offers to take you out again next weekend to go ice skating or put together gingerbread houses. Just as long as you don't make him wear one of those awful Christmas jumpers Leo sent a picture of himself wearing the other day. You don't make any promises.

♡ rory ♡

Ever the hopeless romantic, Rory equally adores and despises this time of year. He loves the romanticism of the festive atmosphere, the twinkling fairy lights, the decadence of the food. He's secretly been craving the chance to share it all with someone else. But he would never admit to it. Which is also the cause for his self-proclaimed hatred of the holiday season. He likes to lament about how so much of it is commercialised and specifically catered to couples wanting an excuse to show off how cute they are. He'll acutely ignore the fact that you came home to him watching one of those cheesy Netflix Christmas rom-coms. The type where a prince gets isekaied into the suburbs of New York and falls in love with generic city woman. Will try to hide his face in the neckline of his sweater while you set down boxes of decorations to dress up the room. Claims he wants no part of it and acts all indifferent to your enthusiasm, though it is blatantly evident on his face that he actually means the exact opposite. So you get to hanging baubles from the tree, singing along to Christmas songs as they chime from the speakers. It's when you notice Rory stand up, eyes flickering from you, to the tree, to the floor, that you ask if he would like to give you a hand. Will say no, but you should move that one ornament a bit higher up. It will look better there. Or maybe add a different coloured one there to brighten up that section. Pass a box of ornaments to him and tell him that if he's going to comment on your decorating then he better just do it himself. Rory acts as though this is some large inconvenience but within minutes he's quietly singing along under his breath, a rosy colour staining his cheeks. Pull out some mistletoe and watch him turn an even brighter red. Do it I dare u. And once the room is sufficiently dressed up for Christmas, Rory will collapse back on the sofa, shyly admitting how much he loved spending the time with you as you burrow into the warmth of his side. Will get a little flustered but tries to play it cool until you tease him about finishing the rom-com you caught him watching earlier. Goes to push you away but immediately pulls you back in. Maybe he can be a little more affectionate than usual today. Maybe.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei doesn't usually decorate a whole lot around the festive season. It's not for a lack of wanting to, nor does he dislike it at all, but rather he just never felt like he had a reason to before. For him, Christmas always felt like a very family-oriented time of year so after he moved out, the thought simply never occurred to him that he could go out and buy a tree and ornaments, even just for his desk at work. When you pose the idea to him to get your home all decorated up for the season, Alexei's interest is piqued. He will scroll for ideas on how to pick a colour theme and will get really into the colour ratio of the baubles too. He lines the tree with golden fairy lights and makes sure the balance of red and green baubles is even. Makes sure to find tinsel that matches the exact shades as well so it doesn't look mismatched at all. It's really rather cute how focused he'll get over it, eyebrows furrowed and this tiny little crease in his forehead. Stands with a look a pure concentration in the way his eyes are surveying the tree from top to bottom, his finger tapping against his lip while you watch from your spot on the sofa sipping a hot chocolate Alexei made for you. You tried to tell him he doesn't need to take it so seriously with the way he's alternating between different coloured baubles but your voice falls on deaf ears. He'll stand back to admire his handiwork, looking to you for excitable approval. Once he deems it good enough, Alexei will lay down, his head just beneath the tree, and he'll gesture for you to join him. He feels all tired out after a day of decorating and has a distinct urge to nap under the tree like a cat. Will sleepily ramble about how he's been looking forward to spending the holiday with you, how he's excited to try all these new things and start ned traditions with you until eventually his eyes betray him and they blink slower and slower and he's falling asleep in your arms.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn's home on Christmas is a sight to behold. The man knows how to decorate no matter what the occasion may be. He always loves to make a day of it too. Expect him to wake you up with a cup of tea, already dressed in a cosy Christmas sweater with his hair unstyled and a little messy. Winter Brooklyn is a delight for the eyes. Especially when he's got a hand-knitted scarf bundled around his neck and matching gloves warming his hands. Drives you to a local Christmas tree farm he always visits on the first weekend of December every year without fail. The owners know him by name at this point and are particularly excited to see he has company this year. His hand is entwined in yours as you wander around, talking and musing together over which tree would fit best. If it's snowing, expect Brooklyn to flick a snow-covered branch at you, a dusting of cold powder freckling your cheeks. Will laugh but lets you throw a snowball at him as payment for the attack. Once you pick out the perfect tree, Brooklyn takes you to a local Christmas market to pick out some new decorations. He has a rather rigorous theme he likes to stick to but wants to add something meaningful to signify the two of you—especially with this being your first Christmas together. He tries not to go too overboard and is only stopped by the sight of a stall offering decadent mugs of hot chocolate. Once you're back home and in the warm, Brooklyn is lighting the fireplace, along with a few festive themed candles, and rolling up his sleeves. It's at this point you see just how serious he is about Christmas decorating. And it certainly pays off because once you're both done, the tree looks like someone opened pinterest, found the most visually pleasing tree and managed to extract it and place it directly in your living room. Brooklyn looks very pleased with himself as you praise his well thought out planning. Ends the day with a surprise gift for you because his family always had a tradition of giving a gift on Christmas tree day and he wants to keep that going with you. Is generally just the embodiment of Christmas rom-com love interest with how perfect he makes the day turn out to be.

♡ tobias ♡

Decorating with Tobias is so unbelievably chaotic. There is no rhyme or reason to the scattering of ornaments all over the floor. Decorations are everywhere except where they are supposed to be. He claims he's got a strategy but you're not so certain. He also doesn't really bother with any particular colour theming and just picks out what he thinks looks cool. Loves to have a range of different shapes and colours for the ornaments. Also buys a string of multicoloured flashing lights to drape around the tree because 'regular white lights are boring'. Tobias doesn't care too much about whether you put up a plastic tree or a real one, that is until he sees Brooklyn post a photo of his own Christmas tree on instagram and suddenly Tobias wants to buy a real tree too and make it look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. So he's dragging you out into the cold to go and buy one. Finds his idea of the perfect tree after a good hour of deliberating over which one looks best. Wants one that's got a good shape to it and has plenty of branches. In doing so, however, he very much overestimates how big his car is and how big his apartment is. Drives home with the top of the tree sticking between the seats it's basically sitting on the passenger seat with you. And then there's getting it into his apartment. It's just a little bit too tall so the top of the tree is bent over a little against the ceiling. Tobias rejects your idea to buy a saw and cut the trunk down because surely you can just trim to top, right? No, Tobias, you cannot. Ends up deciding to bend it so the top is angled down a little since you won't let him take the kitchen scissors to it. You're about to attempt to put the star on top until Tobias stops you, claiming he needs to make some adjustments before it goes up. Runs into the bedroom and returns like five minutes later with the star but now it has a picture of his face taped onto the front. Reaches up to put it on the tree but because it's a little too tall, the star is angled down so it looks like star Tobias is watching over like some cursed angelic watchman. Leo is very unsettled when he comes over to visit.