#but like… kirkland water

[eqgsocials]

i’m the same way about certain waters

[fushitoru]

gojo getting jealous about reader having a crush on spiderman is so funny to me. he's like a dog barking at its own reflection

cw: spiderman gojo content below cut, blurb is suggestive, for context reader and him are at a frat party on halloweekend and reader was jumped in an ally where spiderman saved her before this, might not make sense bc there's like 7k words before this but my yapper self couldn't keep this to myself, might be changed or not make the final cut, NOT EDITED

“Something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. Twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“So,” he says, tilting his head, “I heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that Spider-Man guy this week.”

That makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead of coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in Kirkland Signature Natural Spring Water. You’ve only told, like three people outside of Kento and Iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. The memory of Spider-Man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “It was amazing. He’s—he’s incredible, honestly. The way he just swooped in and handled everything? So fast, so precise. He’s like a real-life superhero.”

You’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit, laughing. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? He’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. It’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” You also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare Gojo the details. 

“Untouchable, huh?” Gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think Gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. Superheroes are overrated.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what, you’re not?”

He grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “I’m better. I’m real.” He then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “I can prove that to you.”

And you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. Despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“Really?” he teases. His hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. The motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. And your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"Yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds.

It seems to have an effect on Gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "Wastin' your time on that Spiderman guy."

Maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and Gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "Who should I spend my time on instead?"

then they get cockblocked but

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This house. I kinda love it. The wood and stone 1970 home in Kirkland, IL deserves someone who will keep it original and take care of it. 2bds, 3ba, 2,500 sq ft, $495k. Look at this architectural masterpiece.

The roof from inside.

This flooring is made from large log rounds and river stones.

The owners have already moved out, so it's very empty and dark on the main floor. It needs a new family.

Down here is a large carpeted rec room with a wall-size stone fireplace.

Oh, how nice, they left some bar stools. (You know how I love when things convey.) What is that on the side of the bar- is that a game, or part of the bar?

In this little room that has doors to the garden, they left a bench that looks like it came off of a covered wagon, plus some wall decor.

There is also a lovely shower room. With guest towels.

The main living area is on the 2nd level. Beautiful demi-lune hall table and mirror.

And, a nice faux tree.

It's a very large open space. There is plenty of room for dining furniture. I hope they didn't just stage it, so all this stuff will be moved out. Nooooo! Look, there's even a little pumpkin on the table.

Another beautiful big fireplace.

And, look at the kitchen. What thick marble counters.

This is nice.

Quite a huge living space.

Very large primary bedroom is off the main living area.

It has a lovely stone en-suite.

Most of the rooms have access to the deck around the house. This is the 2nd bd.

It's quite large, too.

And, a lovely en-suite.

From the deck, you can see the beautiful property, which includes a barn.

Look at how large the barn is. The barn can be used for horses or a workshop, plus the empty 2nd fl. has lots of potential. The little cabin has a fireplace and can be made into a guest house.

Looks like a place for a hoe-down, to me. It's huge.

The cabin's in rough shape, but it has electricity and a water source.

Lovely 5 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/35444-Irene-Rd-Kirkland-IL-60146/61689101_zpid/

[yawujin]

I was wondering if I could request how the Allies + Canada would react to meeting an immortal? (Not a personification - so could be vampire, witch, mutant (kinda like wolverine he's over 200 tears old), or any other immortal being). -🪽

request | how the allies would react to an immortal

type | react , gender non specific reader , sad-ish(?) , blood mention

america/alfred f. jones ♡

he's ecstatic

takes you to meet tony ofc

asks you like, a thousand questions on what it's been living for so many years

he can relate to you in so many ways, being a country himself

although he still feels so young (he's only 245 years old after all)

england/arthur kirkland ♡

arthur became instantly intrigued by you, seeing as you were a witch

he knew a few things about magic too, so he thought you two could relate

however, the magic you knew blew whatever he's learned out of the water

forgetting his pride, he goes to you for help whenever he messes up a spell

he truly enjoys your presence and is so grateful that he was able to meet you

france/francis bonnefoy ♡

francis couldn't believe his eyes

he thought he knew you from before, a long, long time ago

with every question he asked you, the more curious he became

even if you were not the person he thought you were

he's still interested in your life, and your endless experiences

he's happy to share his with you, too

canada/matthieu williams ♡

shocked that you came up to him first

even more shocked that you thought he stood out from the crowd

he tries to get over it quickly so he can listen to what you have to say

when you tell mattie you're an immortal, a million questions come flooding to the forefront of his mind

he's excited, sure, but he's also a diplomat so he takes it step by step

he's just happy you entrusted him with this secret of yours

russia/ivan braginsky ♡

when you reveal to ivan that your upbringing was just as hard as his

he finds it within himself to sympathize with you, and comfort you

you do the same, after a while realizing that it might be better to focus on the good things in your lives

he reminisces with you about all the good times he has had in all the years he's been russia

and you let him talk, for you know that it's been a while since he's had anyone that wants to listen to him remember the happy things

china/yao wang ♡

there are very few things that scare yao, so you being a vampire does not faze him

he's seen a lot in his lifetime (he's old)

he'd rather you feast on blood away from the expensive silks he has in his home

scolds you for staying up late (no, he does not care that you're a vampire and that's just what you do)

he always has fun trying to guess which century you are from (you'll never tell him, even if guesses correctly)

˚✧ ₊˚ nordics headcanons

[aphetaliamessages]

Iggy: Once a Gremlin Child, Always a Gremlin Child

England wasn't always as prim and proper as he'd like you to believe. In fact, when he was little, he was an absolutely crazed little forest goblin. Bite your toes and everything.

He was Very Cute, though. It was an adaptation for survival, of course. Through this cuteness, he met France and his dad, Ancient Rome. Fran was such a happy child it surprised Arthur. He was clean and his arms had the kind of pudge little kids should have.

Arthur's first words to him were "Why d'you look like a doll?"

He also met the equally gremliny Prussia. They still have scars from all the times they stabbed each other.

As Arthur grew, there was more and more pressure to Get his Shit Together and enter politics, form strategies, and be Respectable. He became a handsome young gentleman... but absolutely insufferable. He began to look down on other nations, and became a lot colder toward France. It wasn't surprising; he was hanging out with a bunch of stuffy royals who hated the French.

Francis was hurt and confused. He found a support system in the BTT. He even had a very short-lived interest in Prussia, but it was never quite Right.

Arthur began to feel lonely among all the prissy people. He decided Fuck the Man, actually, and ran off with a pirate crew. They saw him and went "What does this Rich Child want?" He fit right in, though—pirates are just water gremlin adults. Arthur was in his element. He's naturally a gremlin. No one can take that away. However, the gentleman training stuck too well.

"We are stopping here because I need a bath RIGHT NOW!"

When someone objects: "IF I DON'T GET CLEAN SOON IT IS YOUR BLOOD I WILL BATHE IN"

"..."

"AND THEN I'LL TAKE A REGULAR BATH"

He had a lot of fun, pillaging, invading, and swashbuckling to his heart's content.

After a few decades, Arthur came back to land, meeting France once again. Being mentally 18 years old, Arthur could barely think when he saw Fran's 21-year-old body. And thus began history's greatest situationship.

From prissy pirate to punk anarchy, Arthur kept pushing the boundaries even after becoming France's... well, whatever he was.

As always, he's naturally a gremlin man. Love is strong, though. He can't help but want to be a gentleman around Francis, despite the argumentative gremlin side of him "slipping" out through bickering. More like surfing out because it's smooth and intentional. It's a feature of their relationship.

What a gremlin.

And that's the story of Iggy Kirkland. One of many. Good night, children.

[koolkat9]

Hot Day

Rating: M (but only because of one suggestive conversation at the end)

Pairing: GerEng

Word Count: 596

Author's Note: Based a little on how sunny England was when I was on exchange (like I went in expecting a lot more rain than I got). And how hot that sun could be.

Read on AO3

Whoever started the idea that England was always cool and rainy had to be one of the biggest liars in history. For the whole week of Ludwig’s visit, the sun hung high, beating mercilessly down on the tiny island.

Ludwig and Arthur were sitting in Arthur’s backyard, feet in a kiddie pool that the Kirkland household kept for days like this. Even in a sunhat and a layer of sunscreen, Arthur’s skin was singed red. His face, painted with a tired scowl. Surprising with hiw how cold-blooded Arthur was, the heat was even getting to him.

“Why can’t it just be night already,” Arthur bemoaned. “Or at least cloudy. The only time the bloody sun is out, it’s trying to melt me.”

Ludwig smiled wearily, melded to his lawn chair. “Maybe we could take a dip in the creek?”

“That is a brilliant idea, love.”

Arthur leaped from his chair, invigorated by a newfound energy. Ludwig however was a bit slower, sweat sticking him to the chair. But as he got to his feet, he realized he hadn’t brought a swimsuit this visit.

“Scheiße,” Ludwig muttered. “I don’t have anything to wear.

Instead of disappointment. Arthur’s eyes shone with mischief. He grabbed Ludwig’s hands and tugged him to the back of the garden where the creek flowed through.

“We could always skinny dip,” Arthur suggested with a smirk. “After all, it’s so hot that fewer clothes are probably for the best “

Ludwig’s face burned until it felt like he was going to burst.

“What’s with that look, darling?” Arthur cooed. “It’s not like I’d be seeing anything I haven’t seen before.”

“True but–”

“Shhhh,” Arthur hushed, pressing a finger to Ludwig’s lips. “No buts. And there is no one here for miles so it’s not like anyone will catch us or anything.”

He continued to drag Ludwig to the back. Eventually, a small smile started to spread across Ludwig’s face. Good, Arthur thought.

Once they reached the creek, the two stripped down. Ludwig, forever organized, folded their clothes neatly on the edge before Arthur tugged him into the water.

Ludwig stumbled a bit once he landed, but Arthur was there to steady him and help him stand.

The water was perfect. Just the right amount of coolness for a summer’s day like today. Ludwig crouched down so up to his shoulders were submerged.

Arthur dunked himself under the water before springing back up and wrapping his arms around Ludwig’s neck.

“Better?” Ludwig asked with a soft smile.

Arthur pecked him on the lips. “Very much.”

For a moment they just held each other, floating in the water together. That was until Arthur’s hands began to wander down to Ludwig’s chest, his abs then creeping their way back to his butt. He pressed closer, lips a hair’s breadth away from Ludwig’s

Ludwig leaned back, a dark blush blanketing his cheeks. “Arthur…” he warned.

“What?” Arthur asked, feigning innocence. “It’s not like anyone would catch us.”

“We don’t have lube.”

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically. “Come on. I wasn’t going to go that far."

“Yet we always end up going that far,” Ludwig countered, eyes narrowing.

Arthur opened, and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to think of his retort. “I-I could always do a bit of magic.

“No.”

Arthur pouted slightly, moving his hands bag up to Ludwig’s neck. “Fine…” he sighed, pressing his forehead against Ludwig’s.

For the rest of the afternoon, they just waded and floated in the creek, the heat forgotten for a moment with the cool water against their skin.

[narwool]

Asakiku Week 2025 Day 5 - Letters

Day 5 ー Letters

Office worker Arthur Kirkland tries his hand at penmanship to grow closer to the apple of his eye, Honda Kiku. Hey, why is it that Arthur's heart's beating like he's in primary school again?

When Arthur saw Kiku's eyes light up in surprise, a smile slowly spreading across his face, he knew he had done the right thing. He had been lingering by the water cooler, a spot with a great vantage point of Kiku's desk. He waited for the other to return, casually sipping on his water in a small plastic cup. Of course the observant man wouldn't miss a handwritten letter that had been penned carefully on the office stationary, folded up and placed on his desk. He knew Kiku would see it, it had only been a matter of waiting…

Waiting to see just what his reaction would be.

It was subtle, the change in expression on his face, but it was there. It made Arthur's heart skip a beat in his chest, almost like he was a schoolboy again, and it made him feel a bit silly. How could he have gotten so worked up over leaving someone else a letter on their desk? Was he not a man in his mid-thirties? But, the letter had made Kiku happy, and that was what mattered most.

You see, Arthur was quite limerent for his coworker, Honda Kiku, who worked in the accounting division of the office. Arthur worked in sales, and even though the two never used to pay much mind to the other, after having worked together on a company project a month back, they discovered that there was a good bit of chemistry between the two of them.

Arthur had a newfound longing in his heart to get closer to Kiku, but there was a bit of a problem.

That problem being, Kiku's father was their section manager, and for one reason or another, Honda-kachō didn't seem to like Arthur. The older man already didn't like him even before he saw him fraternizing with his son, but after seeing Arthur place a casual hand on Kiku's back one afternoon, it was like the whole world were coming to an end. Honda-kachō was doing everything in his power to keep the two men separated, and in an office where he held a lot of seniority, he was able to throw his weight around quite a bit.

But in spite of the situation, Arthur was still drawn to Kiku like Eve to the forbidden fruit, and the more he was told he couldn't have something, the more he coveted it. Well, that wasn't entirely true- if Kiku had looked displeased when he received Arthur's first letter, he would have left him be, not wanting to bother Kiku if he had no reciprocal interest in him. But the face Kiku made when he read his letter was not one of displeasure- quite the opposite, in fact.

So, he began leaving him letters. 

Arthur and Kiku had different lunch hours, and while Arthur's lunch was from 11:30 to 12:30, Kiku's lunch hours were from 12:30 to 1:30. Originally, Arthur lamented the fact that the two of them had separate lunch hours, as it was impossible for them to eat together- something that would have been nice, were it possible. But now, Arthur realized a greater possibility. Everyday, while Kiku was at lunch, he would walk by his cubicle and place a handwritten letter on his desk. He treated such a simple operation with the utmost care, always mindful to leave the paper in a safe place until the desk’s owner would return. 

Arthur was a romanticist, and even if his cool exterior didn't show it, his heart skipped a beat every time he delivered the piece of paper.

Of course, not once had Arthur signed his name anywhere on the page, and he did not put any immediately identifying personal information about himself in his letters. When he wrote to Kiku, he would write about mundane things, such as some book or television show he had liked, or perhaps he would write his opinion on some drivel such as office drama, and on occasion, he would write something he appreciated about Kiku. That had been the first letter he had written him, the one that made Kiku smile so- he had told Kiku that his heart felt warmer every time the two had an encounter.

But why did Arthur, who wrote letters with such care, not sign his letters?

Well, it wasn't that he was afraid of being identified as the author of the letters by Kiku. After all, Arthur didn't intend to remain an anonymous author forever. He wanted to get closer to Kiku, and he couldn't do that anonymously. But the truth of the matter was that Honda-kachō watched his son quite closely, and he knew that if Kiku were to get caught with a letter signed by Arthur, it really might cause him some trouble- and that was the last thing he wanted.

And so began this Romeo and Juliet style relationship.

Arthur had written Kiku a letter every few days, and he had done so for about three months or so, and the originally hot weather outside had cooled into a beautiful crisp autumn. Time flew when you were partaking in a forbidden office romance, and Arthur had quite gotten used to the routine of writing a letter during his lunch hour. It was relaxing in a way, and he felt as though his penmanship had gotten better, too.

However, one of those autumn afternoons, close to when work was ending, Arthur received a letter of his own. It was folded up neatly into a square, and it had been stuffed in between the pages of a packet that Feliciano had delivered to Arthur’s desk. 

When Arthur had first seen the square of paper, he had simply thought that it must be a note one of his coworkers had left behind, and he opened it only with the intention of identifying the owner so he could return it. However, when he recognized the handwriting, he knew that this square of paper mustn't be a mistake.

‘They saw you- don’t write any more letters, you’ll only cause yourself trouble.’

It wasn’t finding himself in trouble that Arthur feared; he had never been afraid to invite disaster upon himself when he had something that he really wanted. But, he didn’t want Kiku, who seemed to be someone in a complicated family situation, to end up in trouble. If receiving letters could be troublesome to him, then, Arthur wouldn’t perpetuate leaving them.

His heart sank, and with trembling hands, he began folding that piece of paper back up, ready to set it aside. He had resolved to stop writing the letters in that moment, but he hadn’t decided what he wanted to do yet. Was this the end? Perhaps Kiku were not interested in him, and simply wanted to stop things here. If that was the case, then it really couldn’t be helped.

But then, right as Arthur were folding the square of paper back up, he noticed something. That letter that had been written on the back of a schedule notice. Nineteen o’clock on September 23rd, a meeting arrangement at the corner of Broad Street and Eleventh Avenue… 

Huh…? 

Arthur had lived downtown for years, and thinking of that intersection, there shouldn’t be anything there. Granted, it was a busy intersection, but it was often so fucked with traffic that it was better to avoid that area altogether, and it certainly wasn’t an intersection where one could hold a business meeting-

Ah. Wait, that’s right… 

A smile spread across Arthur’s face.

He had a meeting at Nineteen o’clock on that day, and he had just remembered the location.

…

Even though Kiku had hardly greeted him when he laid a hand on his shoulder, his face was a bright red color, almost like he had a fever. The two had begun walking down Eleventh Avenue, not having a particular destination in mind. Admittedly, it was a bit awkward between them, now that they were together. They both seemed to be holding a tacit understanding of the situation, and really, it was just a matter of who was going to bring it up first. But somehow, it wasn’t easy to broach the subject.

After having walked for a few minutes or so, it was Kiku who spoke first.

“I quite like her- Virginia Woolf…” Kiku said softly. 

Arthur was surprised by this, and he could hardly think of a response. 

“H-huh?”

“The other day, you said that you felt like her books were somewhat overrated, but…” Kiku paused, the tips of his ears were red, and he refrained from looking up at Arthur’s face. “I quite like her. Actually, I think I like her a bit more lately, because the way she writes reminds me of someone…”

The significance lay not on the facet of the statement, but on the subtext. Now Arthur’s face was starting to turn the same shade of crimson.

“Is that so? It’s not that I dislike her writing. But, as far as writers go…” Now that Kiku had said he liked Virginia Woolf, Arthur found that he couldn’t say a word against her. 

“Actually, maybe it’s my tastes that are strange.” Arthur said, glancing down at the pavement below, his face feeling too warm, despite the cool weather.

Kiku laughed softly at that, covering his mouth as if he were embarrassed. “I think you must have strange tastes,” Kiku said, “After all, I think your taste in letter recipients is simply bizarre.”

The two had walked quite a ways away from their meeting point, and the buildings in this part of the town were somewhat shorter than in the center of town. They had come to an primary school, and while school was no longer in session the playground still had a few children who had come to play after hours. A tree in the schoolyard cast gold and crimson leaves down from its branches, a single leaf landed on the top of Arthur’s head and had somehow gotten caught in his hair.

Kiku grabbed Arthur’s arm to stop him from walking further, and he reached up. He plucked the leaf from Arthur’s hair gently, his fingertips brushing his cheekbone as he lowered his hand, the leaf still clutched in his fingers.

“Arthur, you always get to say so many words to me in your letters, but I don’t get to say anything back,” Kiku said.

“Ah, sorry about that-” Arthur started to apologize, but Kiku shook his head.

“No, don’t be sorry. To be honest… I’m happy,” His lips curved into a soft smile, ”I don’t have so very many things to say as you do, and I’m not nearly as eloquent as to write such beautiful letters.” “Ah, but-” Arthur started, “You said that they saw me. I hope it didn’t cause you any trouble.”

Kiku shook his head. “It’s not me that’s going to get in trouble. I was only worried that they might give you a lot of grief if they saw you… But, I’ve been wanting to stop you for a while, anyways.”

Arthur’s heart stopped beating in his chest. “I-is that so?” Maybe his letter had been more unwelcome than he realized.

“Instead of writing me letters and leaving them at my desk, I was thinking, if it’s not too much trouble…” Kiku paused, he put his hands behind his back, and a flash of red suggested that he had not yet let go of the leaf he had plucked from Arthur’s hair. “After work, would you like to start going out with me, on occasion?”

Arthur’s brain short-circuited and his mouth fell open. He looked at Kiku dumbly. Interpreting his reaction as something negative, Kiku tried to explain himself, ”I understand if it’s too much trouble, or if you don’t want to... It’s fine, of course. But I was just thinking, more and more, whenever I was reading what you wrote, I found myself wanting to hear your voice, and-...”

Now it was Kiku’s voice that faltered- he had not intended to say nearly as much as he had. 

The two men looked at each other in silence, completely unaware that if one of the school children on the playground were to look at the two underneath the tree, their faces matched perfectly with bright red the trees leaves falling from above, an amusing whimsy that most adults could no longer understand.

“N-no, I’m happy,” Arthur was grinning from ear to ear, his heart beating wildly in his chest, “I’d be more than happy to go out with you after work. Anytime, I’d be more than happy to…”

Kiku sighed in relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Then, would you be willing to meet me tomorrow, at the same time and place? There’s this new cafe, I don’t think anyone at work has found it yet besides me…”

“Alright, consider it a date-” 

Wait, Arthur hadn’t meant to call it a date!

But still, Kiku smiled warmly. “Alright then. A date.”

He held out his pinky finger, and in a haze, Arthur reached his hand out, wrapping his own pinky finger around his.

A promise- a date.

...

I didn't know what to call Kiku's father, so I ended up calling him Honda-kachō 本田課長。If you ever get involved in Japanese business you'll here this word a lot. Also, I made Kiku's father really controlling in this. Maybe one day Kiku will run away with Arthur and be free…?

Hope you enjoyed~

By the way, I posted this work on AO3 as well.

[siren-serenity]

the ways i say 'i love you' 🌈

characters: arthur kirkland (england), gn!reader warnings: fluff, romance a/n: - arthur kirkland asdfghjklasdfghjsfgoandv *cue siren fainting* - he is my babygirl fr - i think this just turned out into a 'how to brew tea' 101 session lmao - feedback is appreciated!

reading a book together

the raindrops platter against the window, creating a racket of noise but it was ignored inside the warm household. a duo sat side by side on the old couch, books in hand and their eyes fixated on the tale the words weaved together beautifully. it was like they were transported into a whole different dimension where dragons and magicians roamed free and the limit is limitless. on the small nightstand, a lit candle flickered. the sweet aroma of a forest wafted in the air, further adding to the illusion and you breathed it in. a smile grew on your lips. "good book, love?" arthur murmured, placing a bookmark on his page before giving you his full attention. his emerald eyes read your sypnosis quickly as you nodded. "it's well-written and the plot is unique," you explained. you stood up, cracking your stiff joints and groaning at the relief you felt. "want to lean on me instead?" arthur moved aside the pillow and you smiled gently. you sat back down again, this time leaning your head on his shoulders and your arm wrapped around his. this way, you could smell arthur's scent alongside the forest-scented candle; his cologne was different this time. it was more him, the scent of roses and the seaside somehow suited him. together, you both cracked your books open and continued reading in peace, ignoring the ferocious winds and the roaring thunder beyond the little bubble of peace.

tea time together

there is a soft alluring scent coming from the kitchen. it disrupts your work zone and invites you to investigate the source of it. as you exit your office and turn left, you spy arthur's golden hair in the midst of the grey monotones of the kitchen and smile. "sweetheart?" you call out, watching as arthur spins around with teabags of all shades in his arms. you chuckle and walk forth, pressing a small, featherlight kiss on his cheek before wrapping an arm around his waist. "what are you doing?" "just making tea, love," he returns the kiss to your cheek; his own cheeks were the shade of bright red as he quickly turns back to decide. "i just can't decide what to brew today..." you hum, using your other arm to hug him around the waist and bury your face in the crook of your collarbone. "teach me about tea?" "well, there's a lot to know about tea," arthur began. his emerald eyes sparkled as he rambled and that was what you loved most about him. how passionate he could get when he is talking about the things he loves most. "the most important thing to note is every tea has specific optimum temperatures to be soaked in. for example," arthur held up a packet of green tea. you noticed how it matched his eyes and quickly shook your head to clear your mind of thoughts. arthur gave you a raised eyebrow before continuing. "green tea doesn't actually need to be boiled at water's boiling temperature. somewhere around 70 to 80 celsius will do the trick. and only soak it for 2 to 3 minutes. any more and the tea will be too infused with green tea." you leaned in, taking a small inhale of the green tea before smiling. "smells nice, love. can we try this?" arthur nodded while grinning. his hands automatically began to grab whatever he needed as he spoke to you. "i had these imported thanks to kiku! the green tea from his place is simply divine; i don't know how i survived decades- i mean so long without it!"

sunsets

behind arthur's little cottage, there was a cliff overlooking the entirity of the ocean. the grandness of the view always never failed to take your breath away, just like right now. you sat down on the picnic blanket and simply appreciated the view of the majestic sapphire waves and the glorious golden sunset above you. "darling?" arthur's frantic voice interrupted you but you turned around to wave. he let out a huge sigh before scrambling down the stone stepways and briskly made his way to you. "i was looking all over for you! you made me so worried!" his hair was frazzled and messy, unlike his normally gelled back appearance. gold strands fell onto his face and a sweaty sheen showed proof of his arduous running around to find you. you pat the space next to you, beckoning him to join you and he relented. arthur leaned into your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your collarbone and your hand went up to gently brush his golden hair. his eyelids fluttered at the feeling and a light blush dusted his face. "this feels nice," he murmured lowly and you hummed in agreement. together, you both faced the sunset, where the skyline met the horizon of the endless sea in a beautiful kiss.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

ELABORATE

If you insisttttt <3<3<3<3<3<3

i assume you are asking about the clinical breakdown by the Admiral Lord

Alfred is born in 1631, the settling of the colonies is still uncertain. Having said that, it's def more stable than in the late 1500. It took a long time for his son to be born. Lots of tries and failures. I do hc that Alfred and other countries are BORN. In the human way, to humans, to countries, it does not matter. They are spawned in a very human bloody and painful way. Alfred was born when Boston was established. He does have a mother ( i like to mix the old 2014 hcs that there was a country in that region specifically before the english but having done any kind of research will show that so many different cultures and languages and frankly ways of life existed in the now united states and then "13 colonies" that its straight up and down right unethical to have a single "Native America" representing those vast cultures. Now forgive my balkan-ness for keeping this part short but getting into his part of my hcs is not in my interest or my forte. I just like to humanise these beings, especially Alfred as much as possible) and that mother gave birth to him. Colonisation and settlement in the 1500s and 1600s is cruel, abhorrent and unspeakable to those living on these lands prior to the arrival of the english and for a while dutch. As many nations opposing the empires do, she dies in silence and solitude. Alfred is left in his father's care.

Boston is stable when Alfred first dies. The babe has weak lungs and Arthur doesn't understand. Alfred dies again a year later from the same illness. This time Arthur is aware of an outbreak of illness near the bay. The boy will strengthen and come back to him. He does but only for 2 months before he is ill again. There were difficulties in finding potable water in that part of the colony. Arthur is perplexed, this isn't the sort of thing nations fall ill for and die over. He starts to worry severely, keeping the boy physically close by and under care at all times. Just to make sure the boy, the personification, is in perfect health at all times. Maybe this way, Arthur thinks, his baby will stay with him. It seems that he was right because Alfred lives healthily for more than 2 years. He is fed, he is warm, he is happy. Alfred doesn't wake up one morning. He is still in his crib. He doesn't cry for attention. This time Arthur cries audibly yet carefully, alone in his study. Exiles, brutality and deaths of settlers seem to be the cause. His baby is in London and the order is set for the child not to set a small and wobbly foot in the colonies. His flame is extinguished not even a week later. Arthur is numb at this point. He cannot take it anymore. His guts and throat are in a state of constant clenching. He is vomiting and in pain. England is thriving, Arthur is in a state of misery.

The final straw, final death comes 4 months later with no warning and no apparent causes. Arthur is hosting his brother Rhys in the drawing room. Arthur has had enough. The nurse brings in his boy, Arthur takes his baby into his shaking arms, without a sound. His brother is aware of his nephews struggles with keeping alive. He tries to talk to Arthur, he tries to get him to say anything. Arthur does eventually speak, his voice getting more and more hoarse. Rhys takes his nephew slowly. Arthurs last straw breaks. He is on the floor, he is mourning, sobbing, sorrowing, yelling. Rhys and no one has ever seen Arthur Kirkland like this. He is weeping. Arthur finally broke down.

Part 2 maybe when I pick myself back up from the floor?

[explode-this]

So the pharmacy that has my adhd meds prescription only has enough to fill half. I can opt to get that half filled but if I do, I forfeit the rest of my medication. What. The actual. Fuckity fuck. Y’all. “B-b-b-but adhd meds are addictive and can be misused—“ shut the fuck up right now. They don’t WORK the same way in my little adhd-addled brain as they do for people who misuse them. I am not letting them out of my sight bc I need them to function even halfway decently. I am not addicted but I am *dependent* on them the way I am also dependent on meds that help manage my diabetes. We are also dependent on oxygen and water. Needing something to have a better quality of life is nobody else’s business and the legislative restrictions on necessary medication because some chucklefucks like to use it to party like it’s Kirkland Signature cocaine makes me seeeeethe

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Character Profile - America

Character Name: USA, Murica, Alfred, Alfie-come-lately, Al. 1585-1775 - Alfred F Kirkland. 1775-???? - Alfred F Jones.

Age: 16 as of 1775, 18 in 1789, 21 mid 19th century. 25 by WW2 and still generally in that range.

Height: 6'0/183cm in 1775, 6'2/189cm after 1850ish.

Physical Description: This child was born a tungsten cube and grew into an adamantium adult. He's tall, broad-shouldered and strong. USDA Grade-A corn-fed BEEF right here. He's muscle as fuck with a good inch of fat on him every which way. Really putting the dough in doughboy. He's athletic, with the shoulders of a linebacker but is shockingly graceful and easy in his body. Arthur loved him enough that the confidence and good nature he exuded in his posture and looks are 100% genuine 80% of the time. He was an absolute cherub of a baby and grew into the kind of good looking that would really be described as more beautiful than handsome if he wasn't as broad as the baptist definition of sin.

Eye colour: Pacific, deep water navy, NASA mission blue. Dark, dark blue. Almost black, if not in good light.

Hair colour/style: Amber waves of grain. Two or three shades darker than Matt's and less red than Matt's or Jack's. Imagine all the wheatfields of America at the reaping, find the average tone, and that's Alfred's hair colour. Rich, harvest grain gold. It has a good amount of wave to it that shows even with its being short. He's generally worn it short and to one side to show off the wave he can get. Had some wicked curtain bangs in the 90s tho.

Other distinguishing physical traits: He has never worn a beard in his life, but it tends to come in redder than his hair. Aunt Bridgie's genes really start flexing there. He's got a mostly faded scar over his heart from Matt's pyromaniac-ass burning down DC. And probably more I'll have to add here later.

Personal Appearance/Style: Alfred loves looking good. The first thing Francis taught him was how good he could look and he's been following it ever since. He prefers blue suits, but he'll wear warm greys and black. He knows he looks like a ten-course meal in just grey joggers and a NASA t-shirt against those golden guns of his though. Also, the uniforms he picks are the ones that look good on him. Does he look like shit in one shade of olive drab? He's swapping it out. He showed up in Japan on the Black Ships in the most flattering cut of the Navy officer's uniform there was and it looked fucking good on him, all that dark blue with gold accents. He likes brown leather over black because the warmer colour looks better with his golden boy looks, and he knows it.

Verbal Style: He uses a neutral American or a less broad New England accent when overseas but slides in and out of any possible American accent at home. He got shot at during the Civil War because even in blue the whole goddamn time, he would slide into his original Virginia accent and have to duck rifle fire. Fucker probably sounded slightly transatlantic for a while in the 20th century. He doesn't purposefully code-switch from culture to culture; it's just automatic. He speaks several languages fluently and without an accent if he wants to, but he uses a southern accent speaking Japanese or a Kennedy Accent when speaking German. He knows it's not a jelly doughnut, Deutschland, promise! The more Arthur annoys him, the thicker his American accent gets.

Level of Education: Arthur educated him at home, got him, tutors on literally anything that Alfred fancied, apprenticed him out to any trade that interested him; printing and gunsmithing were the big ones, and then sent him to Harvard when he got bored with that. He graduated from West Point just before the Civil War and personally shot a few of his classmates who sided with the south :) but turned more to engineering, commerce and math after the war. He didn't reappear in the east until the 1880s, so he did a lot of mail-order books and self-study during that period. He also got another degree from The University of the Pacific in that period out west.

Occupation: The government is always trying to rope him into shit, but the boy's heart is in the stars, and something the government did has to be a big deal before he gives a flying fuck. His main squeeze is NASA, but he occasionally shows up to DC to steamroll some favours out of congress, especially when he has the urge to fly something experimental or a particular issue has been bothering him.

Past Occupations: Soldier, sailor, airman, astronaut, gunsmith, printing press operator, mechanical engineer, heiress, physicist, chemist, biologist, anthropologist, archaeologist, mechanic, railroad engineer, cowboy, blacksmith, cook, construction worker, gamekeeper, welder, a gold miner. The boy has some restlessness, okay? He's had many jobs.

Skills, Abilities or Talents: Alfred, even amongst nations, is quite freaky. Super strength, damage resistance, resurrection power that's faster than almost anyone. He can fly, drive, handle or otherwise operate any vehicle without training. He knows how they all work. He's also highly gifted in math and physics. He has been known to make California tremble a wee bit when he's genuinely well and fucking pissed. He'll get his ass lost on a boat or on foot, but in the air, he's possibly the best navigator on the face of the earth. But literally, he can do almost anything he sets his mind to. It's unnatural.

Admirable Personality Traits: Optimistic, idealistic, brilliant, generous, confident, fair.

Negative Personality Traits: Self-righteousness, recklessness, thoughtlessness, arrogance,

Sense of Humor: Silly, slapstick, observational.

Physical/Mental illness or affliction: He's sometimes just shy of narcissistic but usually pulls himself off the brim. Arthur's sons might be eligible for an ADHD diagnosis, but I did that on accident before I got diagnosed rifp. He's not the anxious or depressed type. He has had periods of pretty acute PTSD.

Hobbies/Interests: Computers and tech, filmmaking, archaeology, camping, hiking, adventure sports, surfing, paleontology, working out, protein foot products, star gazing, listening to audiobooks and podcasts. But, like, literally everything interests this kid.

Favourite Foods: BBQ; he can't pick a favourite style tho. Burgers, cheese fries, pizza, strangely flavoured novelty chips. Apple pie with ice cream and blueberry maple ice cream is his and Matt's favourite. Paw-paws are a very rare treat. Huckleberry-flavoured anything will make him absolutely grin.

Most important personal item: He expected to inherit Arthur's pocket watch like other sons did their fathers in the 18th century, so in 1976, when Arthur did give him the pocket watch and a very expensive wristwatch because the pocket watches had gone out of style, he has worn it everywhere since. To Mars and the Mojave, he'll wear that thing everywhere and get it repaired if it takes any damage.

Person/friend close to character: Matt's his best friend. He and Maria are also close but belligerent. Arthur is also in his top 5. Kiku, Ludwig, Tolys, Romano, Mai, etc, are all on his very close friend list. Of older nations, he and Brighid are very close, if complex.

Brief family history: He was born in 1585 or so in Virginia. Arthur said, "finders keepers," From that moment, he was the man's firstborn child. In his childhood, he mainly had Arthur and Rhys, and Alasdair and Brighid, somewhat less until later. He's never met his grandmother or her ghost. He was an only child for about 20-30 years and spent a lot of his childhood functionally an only child with Matt in Francois' care. The two youngest 'siblings' he's got he's not quite sure what to do with them. The relationship isn't precisely sibling-like, but he's pretty fond of them, and he has some trauma from being ditched in New England during the British Civil War, so he saved their asses in 1941.

Most painful experiences in the character’s past: I don't think anything can top the Civil War because he represented the Union, i.e. the United States. It took him years and years to recover, especially because he was living a rough out west lot of the post-war. He got consumption while personally marching to the sea to burn the fucking shit out of the Confederacy. :)

Their Song: Babylon by Barnes Courtney.

[folightening]

Force a divine blessing...

Hetalia - Engport "Calypso & Davy Jones" AU that isn't actually based off anything but vibes Warning for slight gore? It isn't graphic or much, warning just in case Arthur learns that when you force a blessing out of divinity, you get more than you were asking for.

Waterfalls that rose rather than fell surrounded the hidden palace. Plants the likes of which he had never seen on the surface covered the ground around the shining pathway, gently swaying as if underwater. Where all the light was coming from so far under both ground and sea, Arthur didn't know.

"Stay here and await my return."

The business he had in that palace would be best taken care of without his crew.

Arthur walked across the shining courtyard. The magic in the air tugged at his hair, swirled around his legs, and seeped into him. It was a friendly magic he didn't doubt could turn volatile in a heartbeat like the waters it came from.

Arthur pushed open the doors and strode into the glistening hall. Something was in the hall with him. Arthur could feel it's presence the moment he stepped in. Where it was hiding he wasn't certain. Or maybe it wasn't hiding at all; he was in it's domain, deep under the sea. A creature such as this could very well be in everything around him.

"I am Captain Arthur Kirkland. I come seeking a blessing."

Legend stated if you found the palace, the Lord of the Sea would grant you a blessing. Or you could force one out of it with the orb safely tucked in his pocket.

"I don't grant blessings to mortals so easily."

Of course not.

"I risked everything to find this place. I am not leaving until you give me the power I need to stop Carriedo."

"I care not for the petty squabbles between mortals."

That did not deter him.

"Carriedo dares call himself the Master of the Seas." With that so-called invincible armada. "It would be in your best interests as well."

"So that you might call yourself master of my waters instead?" A loud laugh echoed around. "You mortals are all the same. Power hungry, desperate to claim and control everything you touch. Yet you know pathetically little. I hold no concern over any human claiming to command me."

Arthur knew he had no argument. For all he boasted, Carriedo could never truly be master of the seas. This creature was the seas and had no master.

"What do you ask for payment?"

"Are you truly so desperate?"

"Determined."

There was silence and Arthur worried the creature had deemed their conversation finished. Then a roaring vortex of water and sea foam formed in front of him. Arthur stood his ground and waited. This was a test. Creatures such as this enjoyed testing mortals. He couldn't play his hand too soon.

Unexpectedly when the vortex died a man stood in its place. He was beautiful, but when these creatures took a human form it usually was.

Arthur held his ground as the man strode up to him, steeling himself for whatever test was about to be inflicted on him. Cool fingers gripped his chin and he met the man's gaze. Wild magic danced around and through him, Arthur saw the wild untamable sea in the man's eyes, and was nearly overcome with urge to tame him. Those eyes narrowed, continuing to stare into Arthur. Finally he released him with a sneer.

"I refuse to grant you anything. Leave."

The hard way then. Arthur sighed and reached into his pocket. Ancient magic was not something to be trifled with. He truly had hoped it wouldn't come to it but alas, some things needed doing.

"So be it."

Arthur dropped the orb, loudly proclaiming the creature's name - it's true name, the ancient address unknown to most - over the shattering crystal.

"You will grant me what I desire," Arthur commanded.

The scream was inhuman; the constant form shifting dizzying. Arthur kept his focus on the magic before him. Any lapse in focus could ruin everything. Translucent, rippling chains burst from the creature and pierced into Arthur. For a brief, glorious moment he felt tremendous power surge in him. The chains fell heavy into place before dissolving into more water on the floor.

In front of him the creature was slumped on the floor, gasping for breath. The human form almost dragged sympathy from Arthur, but he shoved it away.

"You refused to negotiate. But I now have what I came for."

The creature snarled and within moments Arthur was surrounded by water. Suspended, trapped, and not drowning. But no matter how he tried he couldn't make a sound.

"You come into my home... You dare..." He hissed, eyes glowing an unsettling green as he stood. "Fine then, have my power."

Arthur swallowed and tried to move, mounting terror and dread drowning him how the water should have been. He was angry; Arthur should have found something for protection. He should have anticipated this outcome. The orb's magic prevented the creature from killing him but that didn't mean it couldn't hurt him.

"I'll take something in return," he purred.

His fingers stroked Arthur's cheek: sharp nails leaving a tingling path over his jaw, down the side of his throat, and to his chest. Arthur's heart beat loud in his ears, his eyes widening.

"As you have bound my soul with yours, I claim what makes you human. My power and freedom for your humanity."

Arthur stared dumbfounded at the bloody beating heart in the creature's hand. Was that- His...

"You have no need of this. A fitting trade for one such as yourself."

Arthur dropped to the floor with a gasp. Intense pain he'd never felt before hit him all at once and he could do no more than stare at the ceiling. He could feel his chest fixing itself: bones painfully arranging themselves back to their proper location, muscle and skin stretching to return to normal.

Even so the pain overwhelmed him and as he lost consciousness he heard the creature address him again:

"Enjoy your command of the sea, Master."

[tarithenurse]

I see fire - 25

Fandom: D&D 5E/homebrew campaign. Word count: 2354. Contents: Just some winding down. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag. Divider by @firefly-graphics

XXV

Stretching and yawning, Zilvra’s friends begin to wake just as she finishes the book on orcish language and culture.

“Ah,” Morella purrs, “that feels so much better.”

Agreeing, the others start to prepare for what’s left of the day and soon they can head out to meet Campbell at the city hall...only they never get that far because the mayor is waiting for the trio down in the inn’s common room.

“Kathy,” he calls out as he sees them, “a round of ales, please.”

Then he motions for the friends to join and they dutifully sit down beside him.

“Gave the men quite a spook when you turned up,” he admits.

Anvindr nods. “Yeah, we’d honestly been running from more orcs than we could take on in the night.”

With that he begins to explain the events neatly avoiding mentioning anything about the former Stouvanian and making it as far as to restoring the water flow once more before Campbell holds up a hand.

“You undid the orcs’ work in a moment? How?”

“Black powder,” Anvindr explains, “got it from...a friend.”

He’s noticed the warning looks from his friends just in time but so has the mayor who looks from one to the other before softly nodding for the genasi to carry on the tale to it’s very end. Then he sits quietly for a moment before taking a swig of the ale.

“An orc with a magical hammer...that could be Borgan but he is supposed to be even further north,” the mayor contemplates. “But then again...things are strange so who knows?” Finally zeroing in with his gaze on the trio, the man shakes his head. “Borgan holds grudges. I’d have liked to have sent you out on more quests but I fear that would be beyond reason.”

“There’s no reason to invite calamity,” Zilvra agrees.

He smiles kindly. “Guess I owe you, though.”

He produces a small pouch of coins for them to divvy up as they please but also explains that he is having something made for them – three sets of footwear: sturdy boots with thick soles which he explains are made for mountaineering. With them, they will be able to keep pace even in the rough terrain.

The trio thank him profusely for the useful gift, then Zilvra pulls out the Orcish book and scoots it over to the man.

“Thank you for lending me this. It was...more informative that the initial pages led to believe,” she admits. “Do you, uhm, are there maybe more?”

“Funny you should ask,” Campbell smiles, accepting the book back, “I went through my holdings and found two more, one of which seems as if it was made with you in mind.”

From an inner pocket, he pulls out to books – one considerably thinner than the other: Undercommon and Primordial.

Just then, the door slams open revealing a guard who’s out of breath.

“Mayor,” he salutes. “Trouble at the southern gate.”

“Orcs?”

Campbell is alert right away but the young soldier shakes his head: “A platoon of the Alloy Order, sir.”

Getting up with a sigh, Campbell barely excuses himself before following on the heels of the guard, leaving the trio to look at each other in confusion and dawning alarm.

“Alloy Order...that’s the Tower special operatives,” Anvindr recalls.

Zilvra nods. “Kirkland’s in charge of them.”

Morella rushes upstairs, muttering under her breath about the stupid cloak, and her friends follow.

Up in the room, the druid stuffs the white rain cloak with Kirkland’s initials under the mattress of one of the beds. The chance that anyone would know about it is minimal but seeing as it isn’t impossible, the paranoid side of the young eladrin seems to have won over for a moment.

Looking out the window, Zilvra and Anvindr first hear the sound of marching people before the platoon comes into view.

They are big guys, all wearing heavy armour in white and silver, perfectly polished but still clearly having seen some use. The paint job on their shields is scratched, their armour is dented in places. It is impossible to see their faces as their helmets cover completely, but somehow Zilvra imagines that they all wear the same expression of determination.

“Look,” Anvindr mumbles, “there are breaks in the formation...they must have lost people.”

And it’s true: here and there an empty spot in the marching order indicates where a man should have been.

Campbell is stalking along the leader, clearly agitated but seemingly getting little to nowhere in terms of explanation.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” he asks.

“We’ve been ordered back to Stouvania,” is the simple answer.

Sighing, Campbell stands aside, allowing them to march onward to the northern gate unhindered.

“They looks badass,” Morella admits, joining her friends in the window.

As if he heard it, the leader of the platoon halts his men and looks up, eyes glittering in the recesses of the helmet as he spots the druid who shies away.

“Eladrin,” he says with a smokey voice, cocking his head.

It doesn’t appear to invoke any sort of resentment or confusion on his part, it is more as if he is simply stating the obvious – which he is the first to do correctly in all the time Zilvra has travelled with Morella. Then the captain whistles briefly and he and his platoon set out again.

As the forces clear the space, the people of Silver Keep begin to swarm Campbell, worriedly asking what this means for their safety. Are the going to expect trouble from the south? Will the trolls and ogres start to encroach too like the orcs? And rather than sugar coat everything, Campbell admits that he will have to call in favours to guarantee their safety.

“Why did we split from Stouvania?” a man cries out, earning nods and murmurs of agreement from those around him.

“Now now, you know why,” Campbell answers, “and we have other friends. Let me handle this.” And with that he excuses himself, making his way back towards the inn.

Rushing downstairs, the trio find him chugging the rest of his beer with the frown of a man who’s thinking of anything but the drink.

“Anything we can do for you?” Anvindr offers.

The mayor shakes his head. “This is for me to deal with so you’ll have me excused. I will be reaching out to your friends the Masons, so maybe I’ll have news from them to you soon. Regardless...I better get cracking.”

He leaves with a wave.

As the three friends look to each other, it is clear that they have a while longer in Silver Keep to recover from the night’s ordeal and waiting for the commissioned boots.

“I could use a proper bath,” Zilvra admits, tempting apparently only Morella enough to join her for a trip to the bathhouse – Anvindr would rather experiment a bit with the black powder he’s acquired.

And so the girls head off, asking Kathy for advice on where to go.

The bathhouse is different in Silver Keep than in the Underdark where it draws its heat from the naturally hot springs allowing for large pools of steaming water. Here instead tubs are filled buckets at a time, allowing for a much more individual experience. Screens of coloured fabric can be placed between the tubs, allowing for privacy and little baskets hang on the edges of the tubs with clean cloths, soaps, and bathsalts.

It’s a luxury Zilvra hasn’t enjoyed since she sailed to Stouvania and she sighs as she reclines in the bathtub. On the other side of the partition, there’s a sound of gurgles or bubbles followed by a soft giggle: presumably Morella is having fun too.

“See, this is good,” the drow begins to loosen her braids so she can wash the hair. There’s a delighted sigh from the other side that she takes to mean ‘yes’. “How’re you doing?”

“The soap is different here,” Morella surprisingly admits. “Not sure how ours is, but it’s not like this.”

“Anything else you can remember?” Zilvra tries.

There’s a beat of silence. “Remember the dogs we found the other day?” the druid then says. “I’ve apparently smuggles animals in with me before.” There’s a hint of pride to the voice.

Laughing softly, the rogue can all to easily imagine it and she admits as much.

---

Fresh and clean, the girls rejoin Anvindr in the room at the inn. He seems happy with the work he’s done, not at all regretting the lack of hygiene from his side. And truth be told, with the smears of soot around his face, he probably would just have ended up needing a second bath after his experiments.

He continues his work happily, while Zilvra settles down with the thicker of the books and Morella ventures out to explore or socialize.

The book the drow has been given is on Undercommon and the culture of the drow. Clearly it’s been written by Harris too: not only is the writing the same but also in this case there are illustrations and notes that Zilvra would have been happy to have missed out on.

Oddly enough, folded in the front of the book, she finds a list of names and family relations including her own family. Some of them seem to be checked off (that’s not the case with the name Allaunira Shadowsong) and it’s with disconcerting suspicion that Zilvra considers this might be a list of conquests.

Folding the list away with a shudder, the drow refocuses on the contents of the book itself.

---

“Guys!” Morella comes barging in. “I just spoke with Wilburt! And he prefers scritches over pets, preferably close to his cheeks and he -”

“What?” Anvindr stops the flow of words.

But Zilvra has already guessed it. “She’s talking about an owl, not a person.”

“Yeah yeah yeah! Wilburt lives with Kathy and is super polite and like to fly out at night and guess what?!” She points triumphantly to the drow but continues thankfully right away: “He’s seen other drow!”

Putting the book aside, Zilvra is all ears as Morella explains about the dark skinned elves Wilburt the owl knows of to the south of Silver Keep.

“You wan to find them?” Anvindr asks Zilvra. “You’ve been asking around about the cold war and such.”

“I don’t know if...no, let’s not go to them.”

Morella cocks her head. “What’s up?”

“It’s just that...remember at my birthday I got a message from my mom and I asked about Umbra?”

They both shrug and she reminds them of how they’d been told that there should be a male equivalent to Menzoberranzan by that name...but when confronting her mother, Zilvra had been told to forget it. That it is a myth.

“What if it isn’t?” she ventures. “And not only that...what if...what if my father or...what if it’s true?”

If her friends can sense there’s more to it than she says, then they are kind enough not to call her out on it.

“So my question stands,” Anvindr gently pressures, “do you want to go?”

Maybe Zilvra’s father is a live and well in Umbra. Maybe Filandrin is. But the chance is so small that the young drow figures she is just going to be disappointed and she isn’t sure she could bear that.

“No, let’s stay focused. It’s probably just an outpost.”

---

There’s a set of boots waiting for each of them the next morning when they come downstairs. Although still stiff, they fit each member of the trio perfectly and they feel prepared to traverse through the mountains if need be. Wanting to thank Campbell for the generosity, they head to the city hall. Likely, the mayor won’t have much time but maybe a few minutes can be spared.

And yes, Campbell is busy but seems to enjoy the momentary excuse to relax as the trio are shown into his office.

“Got the boots?” he asks.

“Yes, that’s why we came – to thank you,” Morella admits.

He smiles tiredly. “You helped us, I’m glad we could repay you in some way.”

Reaching for a cup of tea, he sets it down again after a tiny sip, clearly disgusted by it’s temperature.

“Allow me,” Zilvra mumbles, using her magic to heat the brew.

“Oooh, nifty.” The mayor cradles the mug with the now warm contents in his hands. “I spoke with Harris. I’ve spoken with a lot of people, really, but Harris mentioned that they could use your assistance if you’re up for it?”

The trio exchange glances, most of the shrugging in a way that’s meant to indicate “why not”.

Seeing their decision forming, the mayor nods and pulls out a map of the region. “I can’t let you have this, but take a look at least.”

Studying the map, they can see that they want to exit Silver Keep via the northern gate and then head south-west as soon as possible for a trip that ought to take less than a week. Following the southern road instead would keep them on the wrong side of the river but lead them past an abandoned mine.

“Where does this go?” Morella points to a crossroad north of the city that runs east-west.

“On the western end it leads back into Stouvania as you know, you came that way, suspect,” Campbell traces the line on the map, “the other one skirts past the mountains before delving south into the swamp. It’s the only proper road there but it’s dangerous because the swamp belongs to the orcs.”

“Uh, don’t want to deal with them if we can avoid it,” Anvindr admits.

“Heh, yeah that’s our lot,” the mayor laughs wryly. “I have to find a way to balance our defences against them yet still prevent them from creating new dams.” He sighs, then shakes his head. “But! That’s not your concern...I’m sure Harris can put you to good work instead.”

Bidding each other goodbye, the trio take their leave and head to the inn to grab their belongings as they already have figured out what to do: reconnect with the Masons.

[yawujin]

woaa could i order some uhhhh russia, turkey, america, and england with a gn!reader who's a lightweight w alcohol and gets real sappy, more affectionate n touchy ykwim? thank youuu :3

ofc !! 🍻 as someone who has a very low alcohol tolerance, this will be a breeze for me to write lmao. thanks for the req!!

request | russia , turkey , america & england x lightweight! reader

type | head canon format , cute , mentions of drinking alcohol , gender neutral reader

russia/ivan braginsky ♡

he's always amused when he is accompanied by someone who gets tipsy after one drink, and drunk after two

he couldn't imagine what it's like to be like that

he isn't one to judge, but he likes to observe

if they ever need someone to hold their cup for any reason, russia would be the first to volunteer

they'll give him a big hug to thank him for being such a gentleman, leaving him wondering if their affections mean anything more than just them being extra friendly due to the alcohol 💭

turkey/sadık adnan ♡

i feel like turkey is a happy drunk, after he's had so many drinks he'll find everything funny

he is the extrovert you would want to bring to a party, club or bar

he is extremely affectionate to them back, pulling them into his arms for a tight hug

he'll begin to praise them and say things such as "i'm glad you're here!!!"

america/alfred f. jones ♡

much like turkey, america finds himself laughing a lot after he's had a few drinks

their ability to get intoxicated after only 2-3 drinks makes him feel better about himself seeing as he usually has the lowest alcohol tolerance in whatever group he's with

he'll poke fun at them as they lean unto him, feeling their own body become more feverish little by little.

"dude, you're like so drunk and we just started drinking!" he pats their head, completely charmed by them

england/arthur kirkland ♡

takes him a BIT to get to complete drunkenness

so, in the meantime he takes care of them

ie: making sure they don't trip, holding their drink if they need him to do so, maybe ordering them a water instead of another pint lol

but as soon as he starts getting drunk...

he starts to become just as sappy as they are

he throws compliments like he never has before, not hesitating to touch them back

help??? why did that sound so 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

[shini--chan]

Hey! Just want to start this off by saying that your blog is amazing! So a couple of years ago I had this medical emergency that caused a cist on my ovary to rupture, the symptoms were similar to appendicitis with high fever, dry heaving and rapid dehydration. How would America, England, Germany and Spain react to their s/o falling so ill, that they would need immediate medical attention? Especially if they let it get to a point where s/o passes out due to the stress and pain.

Sheesh, I hope you had a good recovery and are doing well at the moment. Also – Thank you ;P

Yandere Hetalia – Plaster on a gunshot wound

America

Alfred would be very lassie-faire towards the whole situation. If questioned, then he would simply responded that he was seen his sh!t and that what would be happening at the moment is tame in comparison to stuff that he already expertised. He would provide first-aid himself – determined to have as few people involved as possible because he would want to be seen as your hero. Other people preforming heroism would only scratch at his ego.

However it would quickly turn out that it would be best not to trust Alfred in medical emergencies, especially when it concerns somebody that he is so heavily attached to. He would start fumbling, snapping at everybody around him, and it would take a lot of talking to make him back-off and let the professionals do their job.

There would be the danger that he would inflict permanent damage, or even jeopardise your life – that is how much he would want to be the one to save you. That is how much he would balk at the idea of letting anybody close to you.

England

Like his son, he would be prideful and want to do all the work himself. Unlike Alfred, Arthur would be pragmatic enough to let professional people step in. In Arthur’s case, he wouldn’t do things by halves – either he would take full responsibility for your care, or he would contact an acquaintance to tend to you.

You were breathing shallowly, skin light green. Arthur checked you in the rear mirror every couple of seconds, his brow furrowing in frustration. If anything, this whole situation annoyed him more than causing him to panic. In hindsight, he had been too callous in his punishment of you. He shouldn’t have deprived you of water for so long. Yet he also blamed you – this all could have been avoided if you hadn’t made him so irate by spitting into his tea.

Sighing, he fished his phone out of the side compartment and scrolled through his contact list. Staring at his phone while driving was mighty irresponsible, however, if anybody ever chided him on that, he would just snap back that he had been driving cars since they were invented, and if anybody knew how to drive while distracted, it would be him.

Finally finding the contact he need, he called, pressing the phone against his ear. While striving to be up-to-date with cutting edge technology, he still couldn’t really befriend the speaker system. Besides, he didn’t want to wake you up.

“Hello Mr Kirkland, what can I do for you?”

“Alberton! Now I would normally love to do some chit-chat with you before going to the meat of the issue but this is an emergency. I have a very dehydrated youngster on the backseat, passed out even.”

“Alright, I’ll prepare a room.”

“That’s a lad. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

The person, he would take you too would be a medical professional in Arthur’s trust, discreet so that the treatment wouldn't show up in any records, not the sort to ask any questions or to help you.

Germany

In your case, it would most likely due to an illness and accident, since Ludwig wouldn’t lay a hand on you. If anything, it would take a lot to provoke his wrath. That is of course, if we are talking about post-1945 Ludwig. The pre-1945 Ludwig would be a different story where we won’t go into further detail in this post.

Would be take care of you to the best of his ability before the incident, making sure you eat healthy and get a lot of exercise. If he wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, then he would just call a house doctor and have you treated at his house. If that wouldn’t be the case, then he would drive you to a private hospital, and pay a handsome sum to have you treated and to ensure their silence.

This could be your chance to escape, and should the hospital staff not buy into his tall tales, they could even help you escape. Though Ludwig would be there as well, and if allowed, he would request to sleep in the same room as you.

Spain

His first reaction would be to have ten seconds of panic and then go to business. He would ring up one of his friends to bring a van with medical equipment and have you treated at his place. If the medical stuff wouldn’t fit into the living space, then you would be shoved into the van. Being immortal, he would know that his view of humans is skewed and that he would just end up doing something wrong if he would take the matter in his own hands.

During your recovery he would dote on you and also take the opportunity to illustrate this as a reason that you need him. Antonio would tell you stories of people that died alone and were eaten by their pets. And of people that died alone and were only discovered by the stench the emitted. What would you have done if it weren’t for him?

If the both of you weren’t living in the city already, then he would move to the city. That way, if something were to occur again, he would be close to help. Of course, that is only if you were to behave.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Costco has its kirkland brand of canned chicken in water, idk if that counts as tinned chicken? but i love that shit you can put it in anything to add some tasty poultry protein in my soups, salads, sandwiches, pottages, etc. (you could add corn if you're feeling fancy)

I do like adding corn to things when I'm feeling fancy...