#but this means i can only use their hairs on flora

[apricote]

i gave her a little leaf

[ferritins]

IN A STITCH, IN A PINCH | J. TODD

SUMMARY: you’ve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but you’re not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.

WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.

NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.

After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.

What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.

You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.

However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.

It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.

Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.

Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.

The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.

Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.

Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.

You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening — just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add — but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.

You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.

It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.

"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.

You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.

Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."

You look up from Jason's side.

"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but it–"

"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.

"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."

Roy's brows tighten further.

"Jason doesn't do opiates."

"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.

You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.

The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.

When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.

"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."

Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.

Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.

He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.

Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.

"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."

You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."

As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.

When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.

Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.

Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment — settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour —and though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.

It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.

Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.

He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.

(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.

He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.

Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.

He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.

It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.

Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.

Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.

Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.

The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your décolletage, the curve of your hip.

He presses his eyes shut tightly.

He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.

God, he wants–

"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.

He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.

"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."

(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.

"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")

[hanihazeljade]

Disgustingly Green

Tim got de-aged at the age of 8. The age where he is the exact carbon copy of his parents ruthlessness. Can Batman, Nightwing and Robin can handle him?

(CW: verbal abuse, wrong parenting)

Part 2: Skill Issue

Part 3: Forced Playdate

Timothy doesn't know where he is. He knows that he fall asleep on his bed and not on some clinics. He slowly rise up to look around his surroundings.

His vision is still hazy and he rubbed his eyes with his fist as he yawns. He heard someone cooed before him. It is a grown up man that he doesn't know.

With that in his mind, he shook away all of his sleepiness. Was he kidnapped? Again? Oh no, his parents wouldn't like it.

"Hi Little Timmy, how you feeling?" The man asked him but he just looked at the man. He has blue eyes and black hair and also really really handsome. Maybe he wasn't kidnap?

"I am fine, thank you for asking." he politely replied, on reflex.

"Do you know who I am?" the man smiled at him and he just shook his head. "I'm Dick, your brother." the man, Dick, introduced himself. His face must be formed some confusion when the man chuckled, "My parents doesn't know that there is a double meaning with that, if that really bothers you, you can call me Richard."

"How about we go up? the man—Richard, said. He nodded, he doesn't always like hospital beds.

He was about to jumped out of the bed when Richard just grabbed him and carry him. He let it be, after all he likes it, noone touched him for weeks now and he missed having skin contact.

Going up the stairs and coming out of a grandfather's clock, weird, he look out of the window and he knows where he is. There is only one place like this that he could possibly be. He is still in Gotham, in Bristol still but he doesn't know which house.

The man— Richard— carry him till they end up in a long table, probably the dining room. In there, they're some people seating and he knows the man who is seating on the head seat, it's Bruce Wayne. He knows his face because his mother always pointed out his stupid behaviour but good thing is that he has some good looks.

"Is that Tim?" Bruce Wayne knows his name, holy cupcakes.

"Yep. As cute and light as ever." Richard said as he keep on cooing to him and Timothy doesn't appreciate that.

Richard put him down in a chair and a butler comes and bring him some cookies. "He wants to eat because it seems like he didn't eat for so long. "Go on, dig in Master Tim."

"Is there walnuts here?" he asked and the butler agreed.

"Yes there is a walnuts in there."

Tim pouted, he is allergic to walnuts. "I am sorry, Mister Butler, but I am allergic to walnuts."

The butler seems shocked at his claimed but quickly dissolved his shocked and gave him a chocolate chip cookie. "I hope this one is not something you are allergic with."

"Thank you, Mister Butler." he said as he take a bite. The cookie is delicious.

After the snack, Richard bring him to the room that he apparently has been using here. But he doesn't remember that. But hey, his parents won't be back till Thanksgiving and they have cookies here, he will escaped the week before Thanksgiving.

++++++++

Tim was watching a documentary about the alps and different flora that has been keeping up with the extreme weather of it, when a kid, definitely more older than he is starts bothering him.

"Tt. Of course Drake will be incompetent enough to be a hindrance in his night life." the kid said, behind him is Richard and Mister Wayne.

Timothy Jackson Drake knows that is a jab to him, and all he could remember is that his father kept on saying, "If they hit you as Drake, you hit them back twice." and her mother added, "Not physically, Timothy but rather used highly intelligent words that may hurt them. Unless they do it first." and those words were imprinted on him.

Timothy paused the documentary, and then walked closer to the boy that was insulting him, and when they are foot apart he stopped.

"Mister, you have such a vibrant green eyes." he said, "But my mother said to me that green is the colour of disgust, that's why she gave birth to a blue eyed kid. Is your mother disgusted of you?" he asked. The room was silent, no one decided to say anything after that, the kid who insulted him has a hurt in his face, but Timothy is not done yet.

"But green is also a colour of evil in Disney, like when Ursula is trying to steal Ariel's voice or when Scar pushed Mufasa in the cliff and also the green poison apple in Snow White, so is that why your Mother left you because you are evil and disgusting like them, or you are evil and mean like them because you are disgusting and left by your Mother?" he said. He strike back twice and that is his goal. His mother would be so proud.

"Tim!" a voice behind him yelled, it was Mister Wayne.

"Yes, Mister Wayne?" he smiled at the man.

"We don't insult people here, okay? Apologise to Damian, now." Mister Wayne demanded, making Tim to frowned. He is not in the wrong though?

"I am not insulting anyone, Mister Wayne. I am merely saying my observations of him." he said while looking at the adult that is so much larger than him, but Mister Wayne is a dumb man, he always broke his bones and spills wine to other people so maybe he wouldn't get it.

"However, if it really bothers you..." Tim said and he looked at Damian, "I am sorry that your mother hates you because you are disgusting and mean and evil." he added as he looked back to the stunned Bruce Wayne.

"If you excuse me, I am exhausted to talk to anyone here. You should know better Mister Wayne, you are an adult." he said and then he walked towards to his room, leaving the three stunned. Well at least he made his point.

[trulyumai]

meeting the golden rays

—pairing: Godwyn the Golden / reader (before the fall)

synopsis: accidentally stumbling upon the library, the lord comes across you. since then, he’s been smitten.

—warnings: nooooone. fluff!

a/n: another request fulfilled! thank you anonymous.

enjoy!

The grand library of Leyndell was a sanctuary of knowledge, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes that told the stories of the Lands Between. As the Keeper of Knowledge, you spent your days immersed in the whispers of history, the aroma of aged parchment filling the air. you worked tirelessly, day and night. even opted to sleeping in said room every now and again just to fulfill the needs of the order.

One.. particular afternoon, as you meticulously sorted through a stack of books on the expansion of the Erdtrees, the heavy wooden door creaked open. You glanced up, surprised to find Godwyn the Golden just standing there, a look of embarrassment on his pale face.

“Oh! Apologies for barging in!” he blurted out, his voice carrying a hint of panic. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Although he was a man of high stature the walls and corridors still confused him. not used to such a vast amount of entry ways, godwyn decided to go exploring. and now he was here.. bothering a knowledge bearer no less.

Caught off guard by the presence of such an esteemed figure, you felt your cheeks heat up. “N-No, it’s alright, my lord! I was just… um… working,” you stammered, scrambling to regain your composure. Your fingers gripped against your dress, meticulously working against the soft material before the man nodded his head.

What do you do… what do you say to such a figure of the order?!

In a moment of sheer impulse, you recalled a fact that had intrigued you earlier. “Did you know that the Moonlight Flower only blooms under the light of the full moon? It symbolizes the cycle of life and death in the Lands Between!”

Godwyn paused, eyes sweeping from the mirage of books to your smaller form. his expression shifted from surprise to amusement. He chuckled instantly. the sound warm and inviting. “I had no idea! I suppose even a prince can learn something new about the world.”

His laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back, the tension in the room dissipating. “It’s a beautiful flower,” you added, feeling a little bolder. “Some say it even has the power to guide lost souls.”

“Perhaps I should seek it out,” he said, leaning against a nearby shelf, his golden armor gleaming in the light. “I could use a little guidance myself it seems.”

- - -

As the days passed, Godwyn became a regular visitor to the library, each encounter filled with laughter and light. He would share stories of his training and the weight of his responsibilities as a member of the Golden Order. In return, you offered insights and facts about the history and flora of the Lands Between, each exchange weaving a deeper connection between you.

One evening, while you both poured over an ancient text about the Golden Lineage, your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for the same passage. Both of you froze, an apology already bursting out of your lips

“My lord!” you exclaimed, pulling your hand back as a blush crept across your face. What have you done, what have you— “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Godwyn replied, interrupting your stammering. a shy smile breaking through his surprise as he brushed his hair back with a light flick.

“I didn’t mind, such a lovely lady can touch me anytime she pleases, hm?”

What? You had to have heard him wrong.

As you both tried to resume your reading, the tension lingered, and you found yourself stealing glances at him. He caught your eye, smiling back at your flustered form with newfound confidence. His arm came around your chair, finding home upon the back of the wood before he leaned in once more, asking about Erd Flowers.

- - -

One fateful day, as dusk fell over Leyndell, you climbed a rickety ladder to retrieve a particularly old tome from the top shelf. “Just a little higher,” you muttered to yourself, stretching for the book. Suddenly, the ladder snapped, it wobbled dangerously, and you felt yourself tipping backward.

Godwyn, who was just walking in with a sack of goodies (most likely flowers and plants from his outing) bolted forward with protective purpose

“Careful, my love!” Godwyn shouted, panic surging through his voice. He dashed forward, arms outstretched, and caught you just in time. You fell into his embrace, the world around you fading into a comforting blur.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his golden eyes wide with concern.

“I.. think so ,” you replied, it came off as a question, as your hair tangled itself upon his armor. breathless from both the fall and the closeness of his presence you looked up, gasping at the man looking sternly down at you.

“What have I told you? Only in my presence can you climb on that absurd thing!” And although he was mad, fuming with impatient worry, you felt giddy, happy to be the stem of the man’s attention.

Without even thinking your neck strained upwards, a light kiss graced the man’s cheek and you pulled back quickly. Like a fire had spread out across your pink lips.

His eyes widened in shock, a deep blush already blooming across his face. “I—uh… that’s—” he couldn’t even remember what he was talking about. Only seeing you, and your flustered face, messy hair.

“I’m so sorry, godw— my lord!” you stammered, insulted by your own boldness. “I just wanted to thank you and— and you were really upset so I didn’t know what to do and.. and—.”

A hand, big and warm covered your mouth. his voice rang out shakily yet with dear earnest. “It’s.. alright. I liked it.”

“You did?”

He hummed. “I did.” His gloveless fingers swept away the hair that matted the front of your face. You could see him clearly now. Him and the loving stare that graced his features.

“Did you know erd leaf flowers are remembrance’s of—“

“Light,” Godwyn laughed, deep and warm to the core.

“Yes, love, I did.”

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Crumbling Down

carlos sainz x Piquet!wife oc & secret family

this is meant with no real negativity to cs55's girlfriend rebecca, and only discusses her in a slight poor light due to plot reasons.

Private Account

verity.sainz a perfect break with my whole world before flying is restricted once more by baby #4 🤍

carlossainz55 mi corazon ❤️

f1wags and we're back to race week with the first public appearance of Carlos Sainz's new girlfriend!

fan1 WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS EYES OPEN WHEN THEY KISS?

"Carlo," I can't help the crack in my voice when I say his name, "You said you would say no to them. You said you wouldn't abuse our desire to keep our private life private like this."

"Mi amor," The pet name hurts, something that used to make my body buzz with joy making me want to cry harder as I wrap my arm around my rounded stomach. "They were insistent, I've never had a woman come to the paddock outside my family and they say I needed to change that."

"You haven't gone with a woman because we decided to remain private! We didn't want to pressures of the world! So we got married, and then we had Carlos and Junie and then they were each too young to go, and just as we were about to announce the family, I got pregnant with Flora and now with Tilly-"

"Tilly? As in Matilda?" He asks, interrupting my emotional rate with a tone that is too close to joy. "You found out the baby's gender?"

We had picked out names. This wasn't how he was supposed to find out.

"Yes, she's a little girl," I admit, "The kids and I had a whole plan how to announce it once you got home."

"I can't wait to see what you have planned," Is his answer, the sounds of the garage around him getting slowly quieter as I can only assume he moves towards his drivers room.

The idea of him coming home after kissing her to kiss me, to kiss our children's foreheads, makes me want to be sick.

"At the moment Carlos, I can't promise the kids and I will be here when you get home," I whisper, the truth slipping out like razorblades. "I think we're going to go see my parents."

"Vera, you're not meant to be flying. We were cutting it close with out trip as it is," He answers, voice strong and commanding.

"That's what's upsetting you? The fact that I will be traveling and not that I've just told you that your wife and children won't be home to greet you when you return because you're parading around another woman? Because when Carlos and Junie put on the race to see their father they'll see her name with yours underneath?"

"Verity, you know that's not what I want-"

"Then why did you agree? Why did you agree after I cried to you about how the idea of you with another woman made me ill?"

"It was for a good reason," His answer is hesitant, and you can tell he doesn't mean it.

"I hope the reason was enough for you, Carlos, because I can't keep letting you love us in the dark. We'll be with a friend since you're so concerned about me traveling." He did have a good point on that matter, but I can't help but say it before hanging up, not giving him a moment to respond as I waddle my way to the living room, dropping myself on the couch.

"Mamá?" Carlos III's voice calls, his head of hair like his fathers sticking out from behind the hallway wall, "Que occure? (What happened?)"

"Oh my baby, nothing happened," I try to assure, attempting to get all the tears off my cheeks before he can really notice.

"Mamá," He prompts this time, sounding entirely fed up with my response as he moves into the room, such a serious look for a seven year old. "I heard you on the phone with Papá. What has he done?"

"Something that you do not need to worry yourself about mi mundo (my world)," I assure, pulling him into my side as he gets close. He curls into my side, hand resting on my stomach as he's done with his other sisters.

"Hola Tilly," He greets her, placing a quick kiss to where he feels her kick before looking up to me, his father's spitting image. "We're going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"

"No, you're father made the point that I can't travel anymore, so we're going to go see if tia Kelly and prima Penelope are up for some visitors, yeah?"

"I'll go get my suitcase and start packing," He agrees, giving me a small smile as he moves to get up. I know I'll have to repack his suitcase later, but as he runs off, all I can be is grateful for this little angel who blessed us when we were young and unprepared, much to my fathers chagrin. But my kids are who keep me together as I dial my sister's number, tears coming to my eyes when I hear her voice.

"Vera? Honey are you crying?"

"Kel, can the kids and I come visit?"

"Always. P will prep her toys and I will prep the guest rooms."

"What the fuck were you thinking," The angered Red Bull driver shouts across the paddock, storming towards the Ferrari drivers who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Max, what's-"

"This doesn't involve you, Charlie," The Dutchman silences, eyes blazes of fire as they move to the Spaniard who's practically his brother-in-law. "You brought your girlfriend to a race and expected that to go well with your wife? The mother of your four children?"

"Tell me you did not," Charles chimes in, unable to keep the words from slipping out of his mouth at news. He had seen Carlos with a woman earlier, but had only assumed her to be a new member of his media team.

"It is none of your concern, Verstappen. What happens between my wife and I is just that."

"And I'll respect that when your actions aren't broadcasted to the entire world and having Vera call Kelly sobbing saying she's packing up the kids and leaving," Max fumes, Carlos's expression dropping at the knowledge. He had known that she was upset, that she had threatened to leave, but he thought it was just that, a threat. Not that she would actually leave the home they had designed together in Nice.

"After this race you better fix your fucking mess, because I will enforce whatever Verity wants, whether that is keeping you away from her and the kids or not."

And the Dutchman storms off, not waiting for a response.

"Kelly, I am only here to see my family."

"Carlos, you've been in our family for nine years, by law seven, but I can promise you that if Vera doesn't want you here, you will not be entering this apartment," The elder Piquet daughter warns, eyes angered by the mans simple presence.

"Kel, can I come in?" Max questions, not wanting to answer her more but also hoping to embrace her and Penelope, any week without them feeling too long.

She smiles at him, having missed him as well but her expression quickly steels. "Not if you are bringing him in with you."

"Kelly," I finally interrupt, having enough of seeing her scold my husband through the door as I breastfeed Flora. "You can just let them in, but please warn Max that I'm feeding Flora," I request, hating the idea of making the man uncomfortable in his home.

"You're okay, Ver," Max offers, his eyes immediately meeting my own and not leaving as Kelly opens the door, him and Carlos entering. "Kelly and I are actually going to go say hi to the kids, I've missed P and all of them," he says, kissing my sisters lips in a quick peck.

"Is Flora done? We could take her with us?" And it's like Flor could understand her aunt's question, because she's unlatching on cue, allowing me to pull up the piece of my top to cover myself and nod to Kel.

"Would you please? She just needs to be-"

"Burped," Max finished, taking my current youngest into his arms, kissing her head as he moves her to his shoulder. "Between P and my nephews, we've got this covered. Just let us know when you're done," He offers, kissing the side of my head.

"Thank you."

"Anything for family," He just smiles, the expression falling when he turns to Carlos who has been frozen in place. "Say the wrong things and your ass will be on the street before you can say forza ferrari."

"Sí- I mean, yes, of course," His eyes meeting mine before his next words leave his mouth. "I just want to talk apologize my wife."

"Right then, let's go say his to the kids," Kelly prompts, the two walking out with Flora in hand, the cheers of the kids upon seeing their uncle and P seeing her father figure making my heart warm.

"Mi amor, you have no idea how sorry I am for agree to the teams request for even a moment," Carlo apologizes, his body moving towards mine, taking the spot beside me and my hands into his own. "I went back to the team, they've posted an announcement saying that Rebecca and I are not together, and I gave them a photo of us from our wedding."

My heart beat fastens, his eyes meeting mine as his fingers start to fiddle with my wedding band. "Why would you do that?"

"I am having it announced that before my start in formula one I have been madly in love with you. That over those years we have married and created a family in private that I love," He explains, a hand coming to cup my cheek, running his calloused thumb to wipe away the tears that have begun slowly running from my eyes. "I no longer want to hide you. We can keep the kids to ourselves until they're older, but now everyone knows I am taken by the love of my life."

"Carlo," I can't help but whimper, flinging myself at him in a hug. "Te amaré hasta que ya no respire (i will love you until i am no longer breathing)."

"And I, you, mi amor," He assures, kissing the top of my head. "I am more sorry than I could ever put into words."

"You've fixed the situation, Carlo, we can work from this," I smile, little giggles alerting us to our observers.

And wrapped around the corner, piled on top of each other, our children's heads and niece's head are stacked, Junie's under her brothers and Penelope's in between. It's only a moment later thought that Flora appears to be floating on top of Carlos III, Max and Kelly's heads slowly appearing as well.

"Estan bien mamá y papá? (Are you okay mama and papa?)" Juniper questions us, Carlos III placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Sí," Carlos Jr answers, pulling us into a sitting position. "Ven aquí nuestros amores (Come here our loves)." Their little feet carry them strong and fast towards us, gently climbing on top of us, minding my stomach as Kelly approaches us, now holding Flora and resting her gently against my chest with a smile. "We are okay, Papa made a mistake but he has started fixing it and I will be working to so for a time."

"As you should," Carlos III digs, making me smile slightly.

"We love you all," I remind, kissing eaches head, including Penelope. "And we love each other. No matter what, things will work out and we will love you all," my little girl giggling brightly.

"Nosotros tambien te amamos mama (we love you too mama)."

[catscidr]

Hallo... can I get some fluff for akademiya dottore where he, fem!reader, and a couple others are on an expedition and eventually dottore finds himself falling for reader cuz they share like all the same interests... 😊 eventually he confesses to reader and reader accepts happily. smiles :)

i. note — if akademiya dottore has ten lovers, i am one of them. if akademiya dottore has one lover, that's me. if akademiya dottore has zero lovers, i am dead. (๑•̀ㅂ•́)ง✧ also i meant to finish this like a week ago but shit happened n then i was bleeding in yamcha pose™ in my bed........ My Apologies ii. includes — akademiya era dottore (zandik), fem!reader and a very special friend :) iii. warnings — nothing but friendly banter and tooth rotting fluff amen. also not proofread we die like [redacted] iv. wc — 3,2k -> also on ao3 if u prefer to read fics there

You wish you had slammed your door shut the second you saw who was on the other side earlier today. Instead of having a relaxing, free day, you were out on a hike with people whom you were acquainted with at best and with one of the biggest enigmas in the Akademiya, Zandik. If it wasn’t for your curiosity and deep yearning for an answer as to why he sought you out specifically to go out on an expedition, you wouldn’t have accepted— but alas. Here you were, sweating your body mass away in the humid, sticky weather of Sumeru. 

The group only got to the other side of the bridge leading out of the city, right after passing through an old tree trunk serving as a makeshift overpass, when you had to take a break. It wasn’t your fault you weren’t used to walking for long periods of time; being a Rtawahist student meant you didn’t need to go outside of the city as much as other darshans. You weren’t the only one that held that sentiment though, so you all (thankfully) took a brief moment of respite before heading on. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t enjoy the scenery at least a little bit. Even though your arm was starting to get sore from shielding your eyes from the bright sun, the flora almost made it worth it. The air felt crisp on your skin and in your lungs, the distant sound of a flowing waterfall was washing away the tension in your shoulders, and you started to think that maybe you should spend more time outside. Watching the water near the mystic domain in the area of Chatrakam Cave, you start to ponder if it would be worth it to go for a dip to cool off while everyone else discusses where to go next... 

“Hey.” 

An impatient voice rips a yelp out of you, pulling you right out of your daydreams. Minty hair obscures the sun, giving your arm a much-appreciated break from shielding your eyes. “We have places to be, you know. Are you ready to go or do I have to leave you out here for eremites to rob you?” 

Blinking away the initial shock, you scoff at your schoolmate’s bluntness and drag yourself up to your feet. “And you wonder why you don’t have any friends,” you huff under your breath, patting away any dirt that had stuck to your uniform. Zandik rolls his eyes and frowns, sharp canines looking more akin to a puppy’s maw than a shark’s. “I don’t wonder why I don’t have any friends, mind you. I already know why I don’t have any,” he retorts, turning away from you to walk away. You grumble ‘sure you do’ quietly under your breath before catching up to him, glancing at the others in your group. “Guys, wait for us!” 

You watch them begin to walk along the left side of the intersection and go to follow them before the aforementioned boy grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re supposed to follow me. Or did you forget who invited you in the first place?” Yeesh, talk about a short fuse. Being (mostly) used to his sharp remarks, you manage to push down the urge to bite the bait he had laid out for you. “I mean, it’s not like you told me where we would be going or why I’m here. Besides, aren’t we supposed to stay grouped up? Professors have always warned us about Rishboland Tigers roaming outside the-” Zandik cut you off by tugging you towards him, away from the group of students. 

“The stuff I need is over this way,” he said quietly. Irritation seeped through his pores, though for what reason you didn’t know. Wriggling your wrist out of his (lax) grip, you pick up your pace just enough to catch up to his long legs. The cliff to your left provided some nice shade, but the more he led the way the more he picked up the pace. You didn’t even have time to ask about your schoolmates— though it seemed like they were fine with you two splitting up from the group, anyways. 

“Stop going so fast! Hey- what's up with you all of the sudden?!” 

You place a hand on his shoulder in a poor attempt to stop his run for answers. Zandik shushes you with a harsh glare and his index to his mouth, earning himself a baffled expression from you. “What is your problem today?” you hiss, voice quieter than before. Too busy glaring holes into the back of his head, you fail to see the focused and starry eyes your friend had as he looked ahead. He stops walking abruptly, making you bump into him with an elegant ow fuck! Your face had met his nape, minty hair tickling your forehead as you step back to rub the ache away from your nose. 

“I don’t feel like playing charades, Zandik. Seriously, what’s up with y-” he hushes you with a hand motion, frustration boiling in your gut. Ready to give him a piece of your mind, you step to the side to stand next to him; what you didn’t expect to see a few feet in front of him were sentient mushrooms— fungi, hopping and playing around a cluster of ores. 

“...they look like matsutake,” you whisper, glancing at Zandik to catch a glimpse of his face. He crouches down and you follow suit, silently observing the fungi alongside him. There were three in total; they all seemed to be standing still, occasionally... wriggling in place, a dim green light emanating from their thick stems. “Are they feeding on the iron?” you murmur, dumbfounded. Since when did mushrooms eat rocks? 

“They’re absorbing nutrients from the ground. It just so happens that there are an abundance of it around ore clusters,” Zandik explained, the lack of condescension in his tone puzzling you. “How do you know that? You’re not an Amurta student.” Though you couldn’t deny that seeing the fungi in their natural habitat was captivating, even if they were still just living mushrooms. 

The boy exhales sharply, “I don’t care for the fungi themselves. It’s because—” leaves rustle, making him pause his sentence to look around, checking if anyone was listening. When the coast is clear he continues, “they’re... related to ley lines.” You peel your gaze away from the sentient vegetables to look at your friend with a look that clearly displayed your confusion. As the cogs turned in your brain though, you start to piece things together and come up to your own hypothesis about his claim. 

“That makes... sense. They’re part of the forest, so it would make sense if they were extensions of ley lines since they’re kind of like roots...” you mutter your train of thoughts out loud, grabbing a stray stick to draw on the ground. Your sketch was... lackluster, but it got the point across. “Trees are rooted to the ground, and mushrooms grow on trees or around them—” you point at the messy “drawing” of a fungi you just made, “but if they gain some elemental energy from nearby ley lines, then they’ll become sentient!” 

As you exclaim your new discovery, your eyes meet Zandik’s carmine ones— and your face flushes once you realize he had been staring at you this whole time. A choked noise of surprise rips itself out of your throat, the noise startling the fungi nearby, making them scurry away further along the dirt path. He smacks your head, “I told you to be quiet!” 

You don’t have time to protest because a horde of fungi run up to you— so many of them that you couldn’t even take the time to count. A string of curses fly out of Zandik’s mouth, and as he scrambles to get up, he grabs your wrist, pulling you up to your feet to run. “They look harmless, but they can seriously injure you if they’re in a group— book it!” he shouts, jumping up on a moss-covered rock, climbing up on the hill going around the path blocked off by the fungi. He helps you up quickly and you both make a dash for it, in the hopes that they’ll stop coming after you. 

You’re grateful that the sun had started to set before you and Zandik got ambushed, at the very least. The sky had turned a beautiful shade of indigo, orange and pink dotting the horizon and the clouds above. Without the sun sapping away at your energy you were able to get away scot-free and enjoy a breathtaking sunset; you hadn’t even noticed that Zandik was leading you somewhere, too engrossed in the familiar sight of the sky you had gazed into so many times. 

“Look over there,” he places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention and you look as he points to a small group of fungi. Their shape looked more like drills than mushrooms, and they definitely lacked the “natural” camouflage that their other skin had, since they were white and periwinkle, and not dirt brown. A quiet woah leaves you as you look at them, brain working overtime once again. Zandik walks with you, slowly, away from the fungi before you can get attacked again. 

You begin to ramble about your theories to Zandik when you’re both far enough from the living vegetables, making grand, expressive gestures with your hands to emphasize your thoughts. The sound of your shoes crunching the grass beneath your feet, crickets chirping and the gentle evening breeze rustling the verdure around sound distant compared to the sound of your voice enthusiastically talking about the creatures you encountered. He absentmindedly scolds himself, wishing he had dragged you out of your dorm room earlier. 

“Nara Zandik!” a voice says from behind him. 

“Fucking Archons-” his head whips around to gawk at the culprit; a small, cyan colored mushroom creature. Completely oblivious to the newcomer, you halt your steps to look at Zandik’s mortified expression. “Why’d you stop?” 

The boy’s attention is torn between you and Ararycan, head spinning. Based on your reaction (or lack thereof), you couldn’t see it; which brought up the question. Should he tell you the truth— that there’s currently a “friendly” sentient mushroom right beside you, or should he lie through his teeth and say- 

“N-Nothing. Just keep going, I’ll catch up. I have, uh... a stomachache.” 

Zandik has never been a good liar, but deciding to spare him the embarrassment, you nod. “Alright. Shout if you need me!” You walk off, looking over the hill to admire the large trees below, more akin to giant lotus plant leaves than actual trees. Your form retreats far enough that Zandik’s sure you won’t hear him if he whispers. 

He looks down at the aranara, panicked red eyes meeting oblivious, beady black orbs and a smile that never faltered. “Why did you show up now?” Ararycan dismissed the harsh tone in which the boy spoke (or didn’t understand it); it didn’t care either way. The creature brimmed with optimism. “Nara Zandik should say what’s on his mind!” it says, little arms waving up and down. “The forest is happy, iron chunks are asleep, and the sky is bright! Why is Nara Zandik scared?” 

His brows furrow, lips curling into a pout as he murmurs, “I’m not scared.” The aranara blinks at him, still smiling- waiting. “I’m not,” he repeats, “it’s just... argh, what do I do? Why is my head so...” “Fuzzy?” Ararycan finishes, tilting its bulbous head to the side, the leaves on its head flopping over. Zandik grumbles, hands coming up to cover his face 

“Is the strange Nara nice?” it asks curiously, turning to look at your figure sitting on the hill a few meters away. You lean over carefully, observing the signs of life below; lanterns made from sticks and leaves, dirt paths separating in a multitude of directions and a small, round house with large leaves serving as a roof. Why you had never seen anything like this was a mystery to you, but you figured you’d just pester Zandik about it later since he was the one to bring you here. 

Zandik looks back down at his friend, his expression having softened from just a few moments ago. “Yeah. That’s why I’m being... stupid. What do I say?” 

Ararycan uses its tiny legs to turn back to look at the flustered boy, black eyes focused on scanning his face. “Talk to her about the sky!” it finally says enthusiastically, walking away before the boy can get a word in. “Hey-!” Little noises echo in the same rhythm as its footsteps, but right as Zandik turns around to ask something, the creature jumps up and disappears into the ground. A frustrated groan leaves Zandik’s gritted teeth, having resigned himself to the “advice” the aranara gave him. 

You hear light footsteps behind you, drowning out the noise of your thoughts as you look back to see Zandik grimacing at you. Or not— his eyes weren’t focused on you, but you happened to be in his line of sight, which made it look like he was judging you heavily. Giggling at him, you pat the grass next to you and shuffle away to give him some space. 

“Feeling better?” He remembers the excuse he gave you and cringes internally as he sits down, body stiff and awkward. “Yeah. Sure. Listen, uh...” Zandik trails off, losing his words. He sheepishly fiddles with the scarf draped over his shoulders, ears reddening the longer he stalls. You nudge his side with your elbow, “Did your stomachache affect your cognitive functions or something?” 

The comment slides off of him as if it were water and he was made up of extra virgin olive oil. What did Ararycan say? Talk about the sky... 

“Hey, can’t you see the stars clearly from here?” he manages to say, glancing up to look at the streaks of white in the welkin. You follow suit, mouth agape when you realize that you can, and the sky is so clear that you can see smudges of different colors in the sky. The navy backdrop was covered in soft shades of purple and blue, stars glistening so softly it was as if someone had gently and strategically placed them there. 

“Woah...” you whisper, your eyes sparkling just as brightly as the constellations. You point out the ones you recognize, eager to talk about your field of expertise. "This one right there is called Leptailurus Cervarius, it looks like a cat!” He leans over to look at where you pointed at and there it was, a small cluster of six stars. He couldn’t say that he saw the cat you spoke of, but he didn’t want to bum you out either. 

“It looks like it’s jumping,” he mutters. You turn to face him with a smile on your face, one that rivaled the brightness of the stars above your heads. He thought his heart would jump out of his chest and into your lap— but even then, he didn’t particularly mind if it did. “It is!” You nod quickly, pointing out more constellations with names he wasn’t even sure he would remember the next day. But he wanted to know more, to listen to you talk about the galaxy so much that he could be a Rtawahist student, too. 

You soon begin to grow drowsy, having spent most of your energy talking Zandik’s ear off (not to mention the sprint from earlier). As you wobble, struggling to hold yourself up, Zandik gently takes ahold of your head and places it on his shoulder. The fabric of his uniform felt comfortable, earning him a small smile from you. His mind drifts away for a moment— his heart clenched in his chest as he thought back to all the time he spent with you. 

From your roaring arguments about trivial matters to info dumping on each other, Zandik couldn’t help but wish you’d make more memories with him. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t like picturing someone else leaning their shoulder for you to doze off on. If he could be your pillow forever, he would take up the job in a heartbeat. 

...What? 

You jolt awake, surprised by Zandik’s sudden movement. He straightened his back, clearing his throat awkwardly. Thankfully there were any creatures around, or else you two would have gotten mauled already. 

“We should get back.” The suggestion draws a groan out of you as you stretch your arms over your head, flopping back onto the grass. It was slightly cold and soft enough to relax your limbs once again, sleep pawing at you desperately, “It’s nice here though.” 

Zandik pushes away whatever indecent thought had begun to brew in his head from seeing you laid on your back next to him. He carefully grabs the hem of your skirt and brings it down to cover your legs as he speaks, “You’ll catch a cold. Come on, we have to go.” 

You blow a raspberry at him, turning away. “Maybe you will but I won’t. I’m strong, I can easily fight off a measly cold,” and you flex an arm to prove your point. It doesn’t convince him in the slightest, and he pulls you up to your feet with him. You decide not to point out the way he struggled ever so slightly— he definitely wasn’t hiding any beefy muscles under his uniform. 

“Okay fine we’re going,” you huff while dusting off your skirt, “but you owe me!” 

“Owe you what? I’m not the bad guy here.” 

“Uh... a drink. You’re paying for my caffeine next time we go out,” you say, and Zandik rolls his eyes. Very typical of an Akademiya student. 

“Fine. It’s a date.” 

You nod quickly, eager to get a tasty drink and to save a handful of mora the next time you go out. Of course it’s not like drinks were that expensive in Sumeru, but it feels nice to be treated every once in a while- 

“A date?!” 

Some birds fly away in fear from the sheer shock your voice carried out. You gape at Zandik, cheeks flushed brightly and eyes wide like saucers. “Yeah. A date,” he repeats nonchalantly, a stark contrast from the way he was acting just shy of an hour ago. Gone was the nervous wreck that was Zandik. 

“If you don’t want a free drink, you can always refuse,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow in the same way you did with him when you were sitting on the hill overseeing the lotus leaf trees. You scoff, then shake your head, and scoff again in pure disbelief. You were stunned; dumbfounded, even. But the idea of a date didn’t sound as unappealing as you made it out to be. 

You glance away from him and mumble your answer. “What was that? I didn’t hear y-” 

“Fine, it’s a date!” 

He looks at you with a boyish grin, making your heart skip a beat. Was he always this handsome? The moonlight made his hair look ethereal, glowing almost pure white where the light shone directly on it. And his eyes— they looked irresistible. Crimson red orbs appearing to have more of a pink hue to them, though you weren’t sure if that was just your imagination. 

Zandik grabs ahold of your hand and matches his steps with yours as you make your way down the hill, back to where you found the familiar dirt path you had walked on when the sun still shone brightly in the sky. As you get closer to flat ground you notice a small horde of mushroom-shaped... mushrooms, and get hit by a wave of déjà-vu. Although asleep, the fungi were blocking the path back. 

“...How are we supposed to get back?” 

[koegama]

I'm collecting website images, so I can start talking about Aether effects on some of the sophonts in an easier way

Tajira false flora aka their hair. False aether made structures that mimic the "flora" (not exactly flora but I think if I tried to specify taxonomy I'd die) around them. Water based organisms are more common but there's some guys out there with grasses, bushes and random tree leaves/vines growing out of them too. Functions sorta like that plant species that can copy the shape and structure of other plants, but it doesn't rot or decay like living matter does. It's more like a very very big and specialized hair folicle.

Once the shape is decided, the only way to change is to remove every single growth and influence it to look like another plant. Not even confirmed to work, sometimes your Aether will just use some random plant you saw 3 years ago instead. You're better of styling it by trimming, dying, and manual shape changes.

Growth pattern can vary. On the left is all the possible root areas of their hair, but that doesn't mean it'll grow like that. A common pattern is a head-neck growth, bare back and tail growth. Some grow it everywhere, some have patchy spots, some may have hormonal issues that cause them to have no growth/a bald look (or they can just manually shave it for aethetics).

Another Aether quirk, Luminae have something called Aether shedding. Their aether stores never really stop production and it can build up, so it gets released near secretion areas such as the neck and tail. Luminaes natural aether is igazo, and the most common byproduct is light particles. There's speculation that those exist to be used to localize themselves in darker areas with ease, but another less common byproduct of igazo aether is actually shadow particles, which puts this theory to test. Is shadow particles a recessive trait, a mutation, or does it have a different function?

Luminae who learned other aether skills may have different byproducts, and sometimes they can overlap. Overlapping can be a sign that you're hemorraging Aether though, and can weak your systems.

[solargeist]

Does Grian reflect some of the manerisms Aether treated him with when he was with the Watchers onto baby Xelqua? I think you said before that he didn't really have parents so him only kinda knowing how to parent because of being treated like a child back with the Watchers is really sad and really cute

Also since after season eight Xelqua can come and go as he pleases does that mean that Aether and Flora can to? Or at least see what's going on there with Watcher magic and stuff?

oh yes ! i've thought abt that before !! but wasn't sure how to draw it, but yes ! Grian does accidentally mimic Aether, even with things he didn't like.

Like, the Watchers used to coo over how cute he is, showing off his wings or commenting on his height, making him feel small and embarrassed--but they did this out of genuine adoration. Grian sorta does mimic this with Xelqua, he's so small its ridiculous, isn't it ? But look at his ears, they're so big ! Grian does this bc he does think its cute. (xelqua likes the attention at least haha)

Tho with some things, Grian remembers and purposely does the opposite, even tho its not exactly the best choice either. Like with food, he only got food if the Watchers allowed it/he asked, but Xelqua can pick and eat whatever he wants, whenever, and yes this would be good--but sometimes kids make bad choices and eat a lot of candy and get sick to their stomach, like, no you can't have the entire bag, lets put a few in a bowl, yknow ? He has to learn this, hard way ! Xelqua throws up on his rug.

Grian used to get upset abt people messing with his food cabinets, bc he has a food hoarding issue due to food insecurity, but hes gotten more steady abt it.

But with a lot of parenting things, Grians sorta learned along his entire life, he's already 30 by time Xelquas around, and he raised Pearl--even if they were kids at the same time--it sorta helps now.

Grians also learning to relax and take things slower, not stress and overwork himself, thats something he also struggled with the Watchers, and he has to bite his tongue and swallow his disdain when Xelqua is being lazy (being a kid, rly) bc he's aware enough to know thats just the Watchers in his head, not his actual feelings.

Theres probably other moments, like i think when Xelqua hugs Grian's leg or leans against him, Grian ruffles his hair in a specific way he remembers Aether doing to him. But i can't think too much rn i'm sleepy !!

And !!! Thats an interesting thought, Xelqua..... in his natural form... is on his own level, he can do what he wants, rly. The Watchers........ Don't necessarily have a reason to go in and out of Hermitcraft, but they're aware of it now post s8. Since Watchers are based off viewers, i think they Watch the Hermits, but don't interact or control anything, its a sturdy world. I haven't rly thought abt this, i've had a few random ideas, like grian writing letters, but i dont know anything for sure. The AU around this point becomes a badly drawn horse i think ADGKAJK

[roguerambles]

By the Fire

The Witcher Fic - Geralt of Rivia x Male Reader

Warnings - 18+ Only. Some mild NSFW. Brief description of monster violence.

So, fun fact about me, the Witcher 3 is one of my favourite games ever and Geralt of Rivia is kinda sorta my ultimate weakness. Look at him. JUST LOOK AT HIM--

Toussaint is one of my favourite areas in the game, and I figured Anarietta could use a court mage to fall in love with the local witcher, oops--

-

Perhaps hiring the Witcher had been unnecessary.

The Duchess had been quite insistent, however, that her newly appointed Court Mage not go wandering the Marcescent Forest unaccompanied. Several of the Ducal Guard had volunteered to accompany you, but oddly enough it was Captain de la Tour who recommended hiring Geralt of Rivia.

“All manner of beasts stalk the region.” He had gruffly told you, ignoring the surprised expression Her Grace had given him. “A witcher would be a prudent choice for a travelling companion.”

You could not critique his reasoning, although you liked to think your magic could handle a few beasts. But your research could take hours, and a man familiar with killing monsters watching over you was reassurance enough to Her Grace.

You had heard of Geralt of Rivia, of course – you doubted there were many in Toussaint who hadn’t  – but you had not met the man in person since his arrival to the region. When you had arrived at Corvo Bianco, dressed in your finest travelling cloak and a large pouch of coin attached to your hip, you had been somewhat embarrassed at the almost boyish excitement you felt as the majordomo – Barnabas – welcomed you to the estate and led you into the vineyard.

“Master Geralt, the Court Mage has come to see you.”

“Barnabas, you need to stop calling me that.”

Geralt of Rivia – the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken – stood amongst the rows of vines, heavy with grapes, white hair tied back loosely, his chest bare, a fine sheen of sweat coating his skin from the blazing warmth of the summer sun. Your gaze was drawn to the patchwork of heavy scars decorating his skin, the toned musculature of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, the handsome jawline dusted with silver. He moved with the easy grace of a warrior and it took you a moment to realise you had not spoken at all, even as he rose from where he had been kneeling and approached you.

“Damien de la Tour sent word. Apparently you need a Witcher.”

His voice was deep and pleasant to your ears, and found your tongue was refusing to form words in your mouth. You were staring like you had never seen a man with his tunic off before, and you saw the corners of Geralt’s lips twitch, his brows arching slightly upwards. You felt heat rush to your cheeks and you cleared your throat loudly, hastily reaching for your coin pouch and fumblingly explaining the terms of your contract.

“It’s only a few hours…and I can pay your handsomely. I mean, you are handsome. I mean, pay handsomely!”

You contemplated fleeing back to Beauclair on the spot. Geralt simply looked bemused, while Barnabas remained cooly neutral as you made a fool of yourself.

But the Witcher accepted your coin, and within the hour you were both riding towards the forest, the sun grazing the tops of the trees. You focused on examining the local flora, and tried to ignore how striking the Witcher looked in armour. You eventually settled into a companionable quiet, with Geralt occasionally asking about what exactly you were doing. You initially thought he was just being polite, but he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. He even answered a few of your own questions about the various potions you’d spotted attached to his belt.

Even if he was only humouring you, it did little to quell the pleased flutter of butterflies in your stomach every time you coaxed a small smile or a thoughtful “hmmmm” from the man.

“It’ll be dark soon.” Geralt spoke up the nearby tree he leaned against, watching you work. “We shouldn’t be out much longer.”

You had been searching for a few hours, and while you had collected a few interesting specimens, none of them had been what you had been looking for. And aside from the occasional curious deer, no creatures had made their presence known. You sighed and brushed your hands against your cloak, smiling apologetically. “I am sorry. This must be rather dull for you.”

Geralt barked out a short laugh, shaking his head with faint amusement. “Don’t worry about it.” His eyes flickered over your shoulder. “I’m sorry you haven’t found what you were looking for.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Either that or your excited reaction is very understated.”

You laughed, prompting a subtle smile from Geralt that made your pulse quicken. You dipped your head slightly, turning back to gather your materials, when Geralt suddenly went still. Then he darted towards you, his hand reaching for his silver sword. “Move—!”

You startled in alarm, the earth shifting under your feet. Something screeched underneath you, high and shrill, and you stumbled backwards, claws long and sharp slicing at the air where you had been standing. Dirt and stone flew in every direction as something tore through the ground, and all you could see clearly rows of needle-like teeth snapping inches from your face.

You threw out your arms, panic burning fierce and bright in your chest as Geralt shouldered past you, a ripple of magic spilling from his open balm. The monster screamed as your magic clashed with his, sending it hurtling through the air and into the trees with a loud crack. Wood splintered as the creature writhed and wailed, blood spewing from a wound in its underbelly. Geralt swore loudly, before swinging his blade and thrusting it into the creature’s exposed stomach.

The ground continued to crack under your feet, soil and earth spilling into a deepening crevice. “Geralt—!” You willed your feet to move, but the crumbling earth was faster, and you found yourself being rapidly yanked downwards into cold, open air. “Geralt….!”

The Witcher dove after you, his large hands grasping your arms as you both tumbled over the edge. His arms circled around you, pulling you sharply against the metal of his armour so hard your teeth rattled, but you barely had time to register the dull burst of pain before plunging in the overwhelming chill of the river below.

-

You were curled under a blanket near the campfire, and you were hoping that if you prayed very, very hard, the gods would show mercy and simply kill you now.

After Geralt had dragged you out of the river like a bag of soaked vegetables, he had dove back in to fish out you and he’s scattered belongings before they were washed away. Your ankle throbbed painfully, somehow injured in the fall, and you had been forced to watch from the side-lines as Geralt set up your little makeshift camp, set up traps to ward off potential beasts, and cooked the fish he’d caught for you both over the fire.

You could not recall a time you had felt so thoroughly useless. You were a sorcerer, a bloody good one, but portals had never been your strong suit, and with how wrong everything had gone today you didn’t want to risk sending you and the Witcher halfway across the Continent into some carnivorous creature’s jaws. He probably already thought you were hopeless enough.

The sun was dipping lower and lower, but the Witcher insisted travelling through the forest at night was asking for trouble, particularly since you were struggling to walk. He had said this while stripping out of his dripping wet clothes, tossing them aside to dry, and encouraged you to do the same, and you had been far too flustered to muster much protest.

So there you sat, shivering under your blanket, guiltily watching as Geralt did everything, his leggings hanging distractingly low on his hips, the fading sun casting a warm, appealing glow against the glistening musculature of his scarred back and shoulders.

It was impolite to stare, but you could not help it.

You settled eventually, your clothes still to soaked to wear, and Geralt sat on the other side of the fire, seemingly quite at ease as you tried and failed to not follow a particular scar that trailed from his side and disappeared into his waistline—

“Bruxa.”

You startled, your eyes snapping upwards to meet his knowing expression. You flushed and stammered – gods you dealt with nobles and your fellow sorcerers with skilled eloquence, yet the Witcher reduced you to a clumsy wreck without even trying – as Geralt chuckled slightly, lifting his arm and gesturing at his side.

“This scar is from a Bruxa. In case you were wondering.”

He had clearly noticed your staring and you were seriously considering getting up and tossing yourself back into the river. You averted your eyes, your tongue useless in your mouth. “I did not mean to stare.”

Geralt peered at you thoughtfully. “They bother you? A witcher’s path is a dangerous one. War wounds are inevitable.”

“Bother me?” You nearly laughed. You had been counting every scar, wondering how they’d feel under your tongue; when you weren’t distracted with the strong, firm muscle of the Witcher’s body on such tantalising display. “No…not at all.”

“…hmm.” You could have sworn you saw Geralt’s lips twitch into a smirk for a moment, and began to fear that there was something to the rumours of Witcher’s reading minds. “You’re still shivering?”

Grateful for the shift in topic away from dangerous territory, you tugged your blanket tighter around your shoulders, smiling a little weakly. “I’m sure it will pass. I just need to stay near the fire.”

Geralt stared at you thoughtfully a moment, before shaking his head. “You’ve been sitting there a while. We need to warm you up.” He stood and began making his way towards you, and your heartbeat quickened.

“Oh! I…that isn’t necessary—”

Geralt shook his head again. “I doubt the Lady Duchess will be pleased if her Court Mage gets sick under my watch.” He sat down beside you, and patted his lap. “Come here. We’ll share body heat a while.”

For a few seconds, you completely forgot how to breathe. You stared at Geralt mutely, and his expression remained perfectly serious. You opened and closed your mouth several times, before finally finding the power of speech once more. “I…can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. I’m offering.”

You swallowed thickly, offering a quick prayer to whatever god was listening that you weren’t about to make a complete fool out of yourself. You shuffled into Geralt’s lap, his thighs sturdy and strong underneath you, and he pulled your blanket around him, your back pressed flush against his chest. He felt hot and solid and strong, his toned, powerful arms sliding around you and sweet merciful gods you were growing hard—

“Better?” Geralt asked, his voice low and warm as honey and you squirmed, hoping he didn’t notice your reaction.

“Y-yes.” You choked out, your face burning. “T-thank you. Sir Geralt.”

“Hmm.” You could not look up at his face, but you swore you could hear a smile. “Don’t mention it.”

You sat in silence a while, Geralt’s warmth bleeding into you, the sounds of the forest humming all around. It was almost a pleasant atmosphere, but you found it hard to truly relax, considering how you had ended up in this situation in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You murmured.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting. “For what?”

“For…well this.” You gestured vaguely around you. “It’s not what you signed up for.”

“You didn’t plan for this to happen, as far as I’m aware. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Still, I am sorry.” You mumbled softly. “This can’t be how you envisioned your day ending.”

Geralt was quiet for a moment, before responding in a soft murmur in your ear that made you shiver for reasons other than the cold. “Hmmm….A warm fire, and a pretty, almost naked man in my lap.” Geralt hummed, the sound vibrating deep in his chest and against your back. “That’s better than I hoped.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, your pulse quickening as though it had been jolted with lightning. You went rigid in Geralt’s arms, and he chuckled lowly, his tone turning apologetic.

“…I’m sorry. Too forward?”

“What?” You twisted around to face him, which was a mistake, because suddenly his face was directly in front of yours, and you fumbled as his strong jaw and striking eyes were right there. “No, I…I mean…” You stumbled over your words as Geralt laughed softly, looking terribly pleased with himself. “I-I just…pretty--?”

You wanted to combust.

Geralt chuckled, his voice a maddeningly delicious mix of rough and smooth as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes seeming to glow molten gold in the firelight. “Yes.” He murmured, lips quirking into a small smirk that somehow made him even more unreasonably attractive. “Pretty.”

He had lovely lips, you noticed, before you leaned forward and pressed your own against them. Geralt made a low, pleased sound in his throat, his large, rough palm sliding over your hip and pressing against your lower back, leaving a trail of tingling warm in its wake.

This was hardly behaviour appropriate of a member of the Duchess’s Court, you realised distantly as you twisted in Geralt’s lap, slinging you thigh over his waist as you pressed your hips together, enticing a groan from the Witcher that set your blood aflame. His tongue slid into your eager mouth, his free hand slowly roaming over your bare thigh appreciatively as he tugged you closer, your chest flush with his. Your hand stroked over the thick swell of his bicep, fingers fascinated by the feeling of smooth skin and scar tissue, his beard rubbing against your skin in way that made you wonder how it would feel rubbing elsewhere.

The blanket fell from your shoulders, but the chill of the night air was chased away by Geralt’s hands, stroking and roaming and grasping, and you heard yourself moan needily as you ground your hips against his, your flesh rubbing against his through the thin material of your undergarments. You wanted to feel the rest of him, and you stroked down his sides, reaching for his waistband.

Geralt grabbed your wrists, tearing his lips from yours with a reluctant hiss. “Wait.” He leaned back, his expression mournful as his gaze trailed over you, lust bright and gold in his eyes.

You felt dizzy and flushed and breathless and you wanted Geralt to keep kissing you. You rubbed your hips against his and the Witcher groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he grasped your waist to still you. “Not here.” He forced out, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We shouldn’t make too much noise.”

Your face felt hot at the implication of his words, and as you took a moment to catch your breath you remembered you were in the middle of the forest. “Of…of course.” You inhaled deeply, struggling to keep eye contact as Geralt leaned back slightly, the muscles of his abdomen contracting distractingly under your palms. “We…I should…”

You tried to move, but Geralt’s hands cupped your waist, holding you in position. “Hold on.” He smirked up at you, eyes trailing slowly over your body. “I want to look at you a little longer.”

You flushed and cleared your throat loudly, ignoring his mouth and his eyes and his hands and everything else about him that made your stomach feel tight and hot. “You can look at me all you want back at Corvo Bianco.”

Geralt’s eyebrow arched. “Oh?” He leaned towards you again, lips tugging into a small grin. “Is that a promise?”

You shoved him and he laughed, deep and throaty, and you realised his laugh was yet another thing you could add to the list of things you liked about Geralt of Rivia.

Morning came eventually, and you both made your way to Corvo Bianco without further incident. You ankle still ached, but Geralt very gallantly carried you the last stretch of the journey, smirking as you flushed in his arms.

You sent word to the Duchess that you would be taking a few days to recuperate, and if anyone noticed that you spent the entirety of your recovery in the Witcher’s bedroom, they were polite enough not to say anything about it.

[justtwotired]

Whispers of the night - Lloyd Garmadon x F!reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Your POV

“Y/n L/n!” I looked back when I heard a familiar voice yell out my name. I stood at my locker, leaving my books behind at school.

Luna was leaning against the locker next to mine and Flora and Amelia where a few lockers down, noses in their own.

Well not anymore, since James yelled my name rather loudly. He was followed by the twins and Charlie who all looked stern.

“What’s with you four?” I asked and James sighed. “You challenged Brown for a fight? Are you insane?” He asked and I rolled my eyes.

“Please, Jamie, I can easily win this!” I reassured him and he sighed. “I know you can, that’s not the point. The point is that you are going to get yourself expelled and if you fail the year, we can’t got to college together!” He complained and I sighed.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise, I’ll make the year, I mean, I’m doing pretty well, I’ll promise I’ll make it trough the year so the two of us can get into college together.” I said and he narrowed his eyes at me.

“You better, because I ain’t going alone!” I laughed and shut my locker. “Let’s go, I’ve got a guy to beat up.” I grinned and they followed me outside.

“If he hurts her I’m killing him,” I heard Arthur whisper to Anthony who gave a nod in agreement. “I heard that!” I said and they looked at me, scarily in sink.

“N/n, I mean it, if he actually hurts you I will snap his neck.” Arthur said and I smiled a bit at him. I looked over at Charlie and Flora, she was revising the story to him about how I had stood up against Brown.

He gave me a thankful look and I gave him a warm smile back. These people are my family, I’ll protect them at all cost.

We walked out of the building and I was surprised to see he actually showed up. A crowd had already formed, as the news spread really fast, I just hoped a teacher wouldn’t show up.

“Millie, hold my earrings,” I said as I took them out and laid them in her hands before quickly putting my hair into a bun.

“Awe, she showed up,” he gave me a fake pouty face and I narrowed my eyes. “I will give you one last chance to fuck off and leave my friends alone, otherwise I will make you regret it,” I said and he chuckled.

“And what are you going to do? Make me-” I didn’t let him finish his sentence and punched him in the nose.

The fight had begun and he swung at me, I easily dodged him and let him trip over air as he was cluelessly attacking me.

After ten minutes, he laid panting on the ground, he’d gotten my nose aswel, though not that hard so it was only slightly bleeding.

He on the other hand had a blue eye slowly forming, blood was gushing from his nose and he had a busted lip.

I raised my foot to see if he was ready to continue but he just raised his hands to cover his face, making me out the foot down and take a step forward.

“If I ever see you bothering my friends again, you won’t get away with it as easy as this,” I threatened before walking towards my cheering friends and we left the school grounds.

Lloyd POV:

“Lloyd!” I turned to Nya who entered the training room and I stopped attacking the dummy in front of me.

“What’s up?” I walked over me and she pushed her phone in my hands. “Watch!” She said and I looked at the screen.

I was surprised to see that the argument I had broken up earlier weren’t just empty threats and they actually fought.

Y/n was winning form the beginning and I was surprised to see she didn’t even seem to break a sweat.

“If I ever see you bothering my friends again, you won’t get away with it as easy as this,” my eyes winded slightly at her words as she turned around and walked towards her friends who where cheering her on.

The crowd had also quickly picked her side and clapped as she left campus, the video stopped when a voice of a teacher was heard.

“Holy shit,” I said and looked at Nya who had stars in her eyes. “Please let me meet her!” She said and I chuckled.

“We’ll see, I think she’ll like you, though,” I guaranteed and Nya squealed, “I’m going to show the others!” She then ran off and I shook my head in disbelief.

Your POV:

Alright, I was grounded for two weeks, but it was definitely worth it. I was sat in my room, reading a book when my phone buzzed.

Blondie

Just saw the video, you actually fought him? It thought you where bluffing

I chuckled and started to answer.

You

What can I say, I am one badass😎.

No, kidding, he was just an asshole that needed a lesson which I thought him.

Blondie

You where pretty good, I think my basic self defence lesson was useless for you.

You

Pretty much, but good lesson though, can’t you just teach all the time?

Blondie

Afraid Kai will be taking over again ):

But I understand you’d want me to teach, I am pretty attractive while teaching

You

Keep telling yourself that, lmao

Blondie

I didn’t have too

Your eyes did it for me during the lesson (;

You

That’s my que to go offline

Blondie

Noooo :(

You

Night blondie

My two weeks of being grounded consisted out of not allowed to see my friends, only going out when going to school and lots of training with my father.

Oh, and work, but that was only Tuesday and Thursday.

I blocked my fathers punch and was about to punch back when he kicked out my feet from under me.

I reacted by doing the same from of the ground and quickly got up, pointing my sword at his throat.

“Be nice to your old man,” he said and I pulled the tip of my sword away from his neck and helped him up.

Without a warning he stole the sword, floored me and threw the sword away. I quickly wanted to get up but he stopped me by putting his foot against my throat and I scrunched my nose.

“Dad! Gross!” I said and he laughed before sitting down next to me.

“You’re off today, normally you’d see that one coming from a mile away.” He looked at me and I sighed.

“I miss my friends, I only see them at school and they are having fun at the skatepark right now while I’m here.” I said and he let out a deep chuckle.

“Should’ve thought about that before beating up that kid,” he said and I grinned. “He deserved it though,” I said and he pushed my shoulder slightly.

“You have five days to go, it’ll be fine, kid, we’ll make training fun, and you have work tomorrow, you like work right?” He said and I shrugged.

“I guess you’re right,” I smiled and he put an arm around me. “How about some illusions?” He asked and I smirked up at him.

The next day, I hummed along to the radio while making cookies at work, as we where almost out of the cookies we sold.

Someone entered the shop and I turned around and a genuine smile came onto my face when I saw Lloyd.

“Blondie, such a pleasant surprise,” I said and he chuckled.

“Still grounded?” He asked and I sighed and nodded. “Yup, and I am afraid my mom is contemplating to take my phone away for the weekend just to ‘teach me a lesson’ or something,” I complained and he chuckled.

“Shouldn’t have beaten up that kid,” he said and I rolled my eyes while grabbing the flower. “You sound like my dad,” I said and he let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re not busy, are you?” He asked and I gave him a look. “Lloyd, look around, does it look busy to you?” I asked and he looked at the empty tables, only one containing some empty mugs I hadn’t grabbed yet.

“Seems rather lonely,” he said, “I shall be nice and stay here for company,” he winked and I rolled my eyes and shook my head with a smile.

“Yeah, I work alone Thursdays, so some company would be nice,” I said as I mixed my patch of dough.

“Do you want a coffee?” I asked and he contemplated it for a moment. “Uh, yeah sure, why not.” He smiled and I abandoned my patch of dough.

“What do you like, then?” I asked. “A cappuccino would do,” he said and I gave him a look. “Basic,” I said jokingly and he let out an offended noice. “Mean,” he said and I stuck my tongue out.

I made the cappuccino and asked if he wanted anything with that. “Uh yeah, three sugars,” he said and my eyebrows raised. “Three?” I asked, grabbing them anyway.

“What can I say, I have one heck of a sweet tooth,” he said and I chuckled lightly. “Well here you go, sir,” I said and he took the coffee and looked at me with a smile.

“Thanks, miss,” he said and I chuckled softly before continuing to make my batch of cookies. “I suppose Kai will be teaching my self defence class again tomorrow?” I asked and he nodded.

“Correct, but I thought you weren’t allowed in self defence class anymore?” He asked confused.

He was right, after the fight I had gotten two days suspension and they said I couldn’t attend self defence class anymore because of my ‘aggressive behaviour’.

“Yes, but they thought about it and decided that they’d rather have me in class then roaming around the school,” I shrugged as I added the chocolate chips.

“How fun, now you may deal with Kai every week,” Lloyd sarcastically and I sent him a small smile as I started to roll the dough to small balls.

“You make it sound like it’s a horrible thing,” I said grinning and he just chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s because it is.” He told me.

“I’ll remember to tell him tomorrow,” I said and Lloyds eyebrows rose. “You’d betray me like that?” He acted fake hurt and I playfully rolled my eyes.

He stayed around for quite a while before he got a call and had to leave in a hurry, which I found rather strange, but I didn’t question it further.

When the cookies where done, I put most of display and held a few back, Ace loves these cookies and he let slip to me that his nanny loves them too, even though he had promised not to tell anyone.

His nanny was about my age, she was a nice girl and we got along great, though I didn’t see her that much.

Trough the day I got some customers, one of my favourite, Mr. Walters, who always stopped by for a caramel latte for his elderly wife who was battling cancer in the hospital. We always added a red velvet cupcake because it was her favourite, it was basically company policy.

“How has Lorrain been doing?” I asked as I poured the steamed milk in the large paper take away cup.

“Better actually, the dokters say there is a big chance she will manage to beat it this year,” he said and I could see tears of happiness in his eyes.

“That’s amazing! I really hope that will come true!” I said as I put the lid on the cup and handed that, plus a small paper bag containing the cupcake to the man, having paid before hand.

“Thank you, dear, I will see you next week,” he said taking the goods and walking out of the shop.

At the end of the day, I closed down, sweeping the floor and the tables, doing some last dishes and putting the remaining goods swatch putting some in a bag to take home.

I left a small not down good luck to my coworkers who started early the next day and then locked the door, to get home.

Kai POV:

I walked into the gym to teach my class when I noticed that Y/n was in my class. I huffed slightly, there was not much wrong about her, I just felt something off about her because of her stealing and getting herself into trouble.

I couldn’t help but listen in on her conversation she was having with her friend, who I know was named Luna as I had her last week aswel.

“Lu, you won’t believe this!” She said excitedly and I couldn’t help but break a small smile at her cheery behaviour. “What? What is it?” Luna asked her.

“So, Mr. Walters came into work yesterday, as always, you know what he told me?” She continued and Luna gave her an exasperated look. “Come onnn! Tell me!” She pushed.

“There is a big chance Lorrain will beat cancer before end of the year!” She jumped up and down and both girls cheered.

It kind of broke the ice to see her like that. Lloyd had told me about her work, and I thought it was nice she was so excited about what seemed to be a customer.

I shook my head slightly and started the class, deciding that maybe Y/n wasn’t so bad after all.

Yeah, she and her friends beat me in a chase after stealing from a store, but she was still nice- of course the reason I was wary of her wasn’t because she beat me in a chase…

Alright, it kind of was, but come on! I have years of training, and they have what? Skateboard stamina? If that’s even a thing.

Your POV:

I had been right, my mom did take away my phone for the weekend, which left me to sit in my room and mope all day.

I couldn’t talk to my friends, I wasn’t allowed to go out, I couldn’t text Lloyd, I wasn’t allowed to watch tv, dad was gone and forgot to leave me the key to the training room, so my day basically sucked.

At the moment, I was trying to create a partronus, like you see in Harry Potter, but then it was an illusion.

I could see my own illusions if I wanted to, thank the first spinjitzu master, but sometimes they where actually quite hard for me to do.

I had already managed to make a fox and was now trying a snake, when there was a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I called and the door opened, I was met with one of our staff members.

“Miss Y/n, dinners ready, your mother waits for you in the dining hall.” She said and I got of the bed. “Thank you, Nora.” I smiled and she gave me a kind smile back before leaving to get my brother while I went downstairs.

There, in the dining room, my mother sat, aswel as my younger sister.

I guess my mother read my facial features and sighed. “Don’t mope, Y/n, you know I had a good reason to ground you,” she said and I nodded.

“Yeah, I know,” this was gonna be a fun dinner… not.

It was spent with my mother slightly lecturing me about not causing trouble in school (again) and Ace was snickering the whole time, making her round on him.

Sure, my mother was strict, but she could be really sweet and caring when she wasn’t mad at anyone.

After dinner I excused myself and sat in my room, deciding to read a book instead of moping around.

Suddenly, while reading, there where taps on my window. I thought nothing of it and continued reading, but when it happened again I looked up.

I yelled when I saw someone sitting at the window and my hand quickly inched towards the knife laying on my bedside table, until I saw who it was.

I walked over and opened my window with an angry frown.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper shouted. The green ninja climbed trough my window and looked around.

“Your room is huge!” He said and I shushed him immediately. “It took a long while to find you, your house is way to big,” he said and I clenched my fists.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again and he looked at me for a moment. “Oh, yeah I didn’t see you in a while and started to worry, so I thought I’d visit you.” He shrugged and I smacked his shoulder.

“Are you mental?” I asked and he chuckled. “Only a bit,” he said and I groaned. “You can’t just show up at my house! What if my parents see you? What if one of the guards see you?” I hissed and he shrugged.

“I’m the green ninja, I’ll talk my way out,” he winked and I shook my head in disbelief. “You can’t just break into my house!” I said and he I could see by his eyes that he smirked.

“Technically,” he started, “I didn’t break in, you let me in,” he pointed out and I gave him an unamused look.

“Besides, don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me, sweetheart,” he said and I let out a small huff. “Who says I’m happy to see you?” I asked and he took a step closer.

“Your heartbeat does,” he said and I felt my face flush and my knees grew slightly weak. “There it goes again,” he teased and I pursed my lips.

“You can hear my heartbeat?” I asked and he nodded with a small smirk. “Yeah, super senses, it’s a family thing,” he shrugged.

“Yours is going rather fast,” he said tauntingly and I gulped slightly, trying my best to slow down my heartbeat.

“But enough about me, tell me about you,” he turned away from me and sat himself down in one of the chairs in my room. “Where have you been? Why haven’t I seen you around?” He asked me interested and I couldn’t help but grin.

“What? Have you missed me?” I asked and he let out a low chuckle. “Of course, why do you think I’m here?” He said, gesturing around the room.

I shook my head, slightly rolling my eyes and sat down in front of him on another chair.

“I’m grounded,” I revealed and I noticed by his eyes that his eyebrows rose. “Damn, Princess, what did you do? Got caught sneaking out?” He said and I shook my head no.

“I go into a fight at school,” I explained and he seemed a bit surprised, but something inside of me felt like his surprise was fake, as if he already knew.

“Tell me more,” he said, leaning forwards a bit and I narrowed my eyes a bit. “I don’t think I have to,” I said and he seemed actually surprised by that one. “I think you already know,” I said and he let out a deep chuckle.

“Aren’t you a sharp one?” He grinned. “Yeah, alright, you caught me. I already know, but I thought I’d hear from you what happened,” he said and I raised a brow.

“Why is that? Are you interrogating me and arresting me afterwards?” I asked, even though it was obviously a joke.

He just shook his head and kept eye contact with me, making me shift in my seat. “No, I just think you are really interesting, Y/n L/n,” he said making my heartbeat raise and he gave me a smug look as he knew, he heard.

“Why are you here? The actual reason this time,” I said narrowing my eyes at him and he shrugged. “Like I said, your interesting, there’s just something about you-” he got cut off as we both heard footsteps on the stairs

I held my breath, hoping they weren’t going for my room.

“Y/n, Honey!” Damn it!

I shot up and quickly dragged the green ninja by the arm, taking him to my walk in closet and pushing him inside.

“Stay here, don’t you make a peep,” I whispered and shut the door, just as my room door opened.

“Mum, hi!” I said with a bright smile and she narrowed her eyes slightly. “Hi,” she said and looked around the room as I walked over to my bed and sat down.

“What is it?” I asked and she looked at the window curiously. “Why is your window open?” She asked and I swallowed.

“I uh, I felt hot, I thought I’d open the window to let some cool air in,” I lied, why hadn’t I just shut the goddamn window?

“Are you sick?” My mum walked over already reaching out to put her hand on my forehead. “Mum- I’m fine, really,” I promised and she sighed as I dodged her hand.

“Alright, but if you get more symptoms I’m taking you to a doctor. I just sighed and nodded. Even with just the flue, mum just wanted me to a dokter, as always.

“Fine, why did you even come here?” I asked a bit annoyed and she crossed her arms. “Don’t get that tone with me, young lady,” she scolded. “I just came to tell you that we have a dinner party at the Chapman’s tomorrow.” She said and I couldn’t help but smirk.

That meant I got to see James! I hadn’t seen him since Thursday and it was killing me, as he is my best friend.

“Yeah, sounds good,” I said and crossed my legs on my bed. “Alright hunny, now get some sleep, you seem tired and I don’t want you to get sick.” She kissed the top of my head and left the room.

When I heard her footsteps reach the ground floor, I shot up and opened my closet door.

“Alright, you have to go,” I said and he gave me sad puppy dog eyes making me glare back. “Don’t you try that with me, I am still kicking you out,” I said and he just laughed and walked out of the closet and back towards the window while I followed him.

“Alright, but I’ll be seeing you again, Princess,” he said, before winking and jumping out of the window.

[ootah-canadiensis]

STRIIIIIDERRRRR!

I wanted to see how I would interpret the very... very strange anatomy of the Strider. And let me tell you, I had a very tough time figuring out the damned thing.

First of all, You might notice a huge lack of the carapace that covers the Strider's legs and main body, that is because I've figured that the exoskeleton is largely artificial as the other synths seem to have it (with exception of the Hunter,) and that inclined me to believe that the Strider didn't naturally have it, and without it It would largely be that dark green musculature, which of course any living thing would have some form of skin and not exposed muscle. Another point towards the carapace being artificial is how it segments, appears to have bolts and of course, the ventilation on it's back. All of these factors would lead a pretty clear image that the synths originally had other forms of covering, with maybe some exception of the Dropship.

And of course, the mouth and "hand." The mouth is where the particle cannon of the Strider was, as it appears there are vestigial compound eyes next to it, and following the evolutionary advantage of the eyes being close to the mouth, as to know what you're eating... It only makes sense to put the mouth there. One thing that I also noticed in the HL:A model for the strider is that a small piece of musculature seems to "wrap around" where the particle cannon is, which I think might be some form of lip structure?

Next down the line on the head region are the bolts downwards of the giant "bolts" grafted onto the side of the neck, which I believe cover where the ears might've been? In my sketch you can see two frog-like tympanic tissues there. Since the Strider naturally is pretty fuckin' tall, it probably wouldn't need extensive protection for the ears (and also because it was easier for me to draw.)

And the next is... The hanging sack of meat that is the Warp Cannon. God, that was just so challenging to try and rationalise how and why a creature would even have something like it. And yet rationalise I did, as I made it where it is able to grasp things and function as a hand or arm, which inside of it is also it's reproductive organs which are more often than not sealed away like a cloaca or something.

Lastly, the feet of the Strider. I wanted to make sure that it's rounded end was still noticeable, while also resembling like an actual functioning foot. Which I ended up with a soft foot with 5 toes arranged in a star pattern. I had to add that in because it wasn't very clear on my sketch of the foot. I also ended up adding those hairs as sensitive whiskers.

And now for my own personal interpretations for its behaviour pre-combine (as if EVERYTHING wasn't my own personal interpretation beforehand)

In HL:A, you can hear "speech" from the Striders. That is something that caught my attention, and I think that might suggest that the Striders were also just as intelligent as us, just in their own way. As for their culture and society... I'm not sure, if someone wanted to use this as a base for something, be my guest :) At minimum their intelligence could be compared to something like an elephant.

And their feeding habits I imagine are a lot like sauropods of earth, using their rake-like teeth to strip off food such as branches or whatever their native flora might've been like. And speaking of their immense height to reach those glorious foods that most other animals can't get too...

They must have been on a planet with lower gravity, I mean just listen to their walking sounds in-game. Do your legs make creaking sounds just by walking? Their legs are clearly under stress from holding up their weight on Earth's gravity, and because of their new-found body's composition of being made of Combine stuff, their legs won't break! But if you were to place a pre-combine Strider on earth, their legs would- should shatter from their immense scale.

And their ears, I think that the Striders largely communicated through infrasound, largely making noises below our range of hearing which they would have naturally heard with their two sets of ears. With exception from the infrasonic communication being that of the deafening howls and "craggles" as I like to call them. And for their sound design in Half-Life: Alyx? I think those may be sounds that are generated from some kind of Combine tech. Not sure, though.

And I believe that is all I have to say, it was delightful trying to figure out just how the Striders probably would've functioned before the combine came along and mutilated them. And it was so incredibly hard not to have the Strider's warp cannon not be exactly what it looks like. If anything was hard to understand, I apologise since I wrote this all in one sitting and didn't have the time or patience to read it over. This will probably be my last Half-Life post like this unless I still have other ideas for how a lot of the aliens of this lovely franchise live beyond being an obstacle for Gordon to bash with a crowbar

[keikaru]

Blue Brooch - TWST (Rollo & Yuu)

“Don’t you agree, Yuu?” Rollo’s eyes flicker to the Ramshackle Prefect.

“I believe magic can be a useful tool. Intent behind everything is what stirs our actions. On some level, I agree with you, Rollo. Magic…is the reason why I’m trapped here.”

Rollo narrows his eyes as a generous frown slips across his face. After a pensive pause, he crosses his arms.

“What do you mean by trapped? All barrier spells have a weak point, but that is beside the point.”

“If this is fate’s form of amusement, I’m not laughing. I want to go home, Rollo. If magic brought me to this world, then it’s only natural for magic to bring me back home…right? How can I go home?” Their words grow inaudible near the end, but Rollo catches it before the slow groan of the trap door shuts.

Rollo walks over to Yuu. He brushes the firelotus from their hair. When Yuu meets their gaze, the dying sun extinguishes in Yuu’s eyes.

Sanguine wisps flicker around them, bathing the hall in a crimson light. A solemn silence returns to the halls of Nobel Bell College. Above them, the chandelier burns red like wildfire. A sweet fragrance fills the air, and the blossoms swell and sway from the pulse of magic.

Rollo readies a wind spell to divert the fluttering flora. When he glances at Yuu again, their expression immobilizes him.

Their eyes shimmer like a deep aquamarine, like the rise and sigh of the ocean, the faraway, impenetrable blue sky. It stuns Rollo to silence when Yuu captures the sky in the blue brooches of their eyes.

And just like that, a cluster of blooms fall from the chandelier above them.

Yuu’s face betrays a longing for something else, for something beyond his understanding. Despite perusing through volumes of books, there’s no knowledge his mind can retrieve to explain the uncomfortable humming in his heart.

He retracts his hand, and glances elsewhere. Rollo clears his throat.

“Firelotuses won’t harm you. But their blooms grow more sanguine with each passing moment, so should be the expression on your face, Prefect Yuu.”

Masterpost of drabbles | AO3 | Kofi

[snarky-art]

I swear I dont wanna be mean but why does everyone keep making stella fat. Why is it that the most attractive character, whom everyone finds beautiful inside the show, is the one who is always turned fat. Like... No one would find her attractive if her canon design was like that. I promise im not being mean but I feel like the artists are always projecting themselves onto Stella and wanting to be loved like she is, cause usually the ones making her fat are fat too, like I saw your selfies and you're a bit curvy. I promise im not being mean im just curious.

For starters, send me more fat Stella’s if you can I haven’t seen that many made and would love to see more varied takes on her appearances in redesigns.

Secondly, I made her fat because I think it’s nice to have the character that’s canonically considered to be the most beautiful girl in all of magix, a fashion icon in the magical dimension, a very celebrated trendsetter, be something other than the stereotypical concept of socially acceptable fashion tropes. She isn’t an hourglass, she has cellulite and stretch marks, she’s super pear shaped, and that can be and should be considered something to be normal, since they are, and shouldn’t be seen as things that need to be hidden. Having that put on a loud and proud fashion girly seems good imo and it can only really contribute to good stuff for body image stuff and representation. I did it so people like you could reconsider that beauty is something that comes in multiple forms and shouldn’t have to fit one type of standard. If we wanna get super technical too those standards also very from culture to culture and I image that’s extended even further in Winx club.

The girls are all aliens from different worlds. There’s bug people. There’s a lady in the miss magix episode that has tentacle hair, a blue body, and tentacle hands and feet. I highly doubt beauty standards in canon would be the same as what you’re saying, ie that no one would consider her beautiful. As if people who look like her irl also would inherently be considered not beautiful too. I know lots of people who have people that think they’re the hottest thing ever and they have all sorts of different body types and traits. Lets just call it realism lol

I’m not really projecting any of my physical stuff on her also, outside of I guess stretch marks and cellulite?? But I put those on other characters too so I don’t really think that holds up. I actually put my old body type on Flora since she’s my favorite, but now I’m way more midsized, like a slightly thinner Bloom from my stuff (love this unit of measurement gonna start using the gorls as a reference point for my appearance going forward lol). I’ve always had the “socially acceptable” fat type of body, ie hourglass with even proportions and a super snatched waist. I just think it’s tired and trite to constantly reenforce the idea that “the hot fashion one” needs to be tall and thin all the time, and if she is made fatter, that she needs to look like I did ie not much of a tummy with super equal proportions, big boobs, and a big ass.

Kinda related to that also, I made a post about a lot of character design “rules” too that I think are kinda outdated and annoying, at least to me, since I’ve seen them a million times. We all have. So I decided to do something different that I think would be good for normalizing traits outside of what we consider typically acceptable for that kind of character.

I’m already very loved also and don’t need to project anything on Stella lmaooo

I got multiple partners, great friends, do modeling, and am slaying with my own fashion and appearance stuff outside of that too. That’s all independent of whatever I’m doing with her physical body type when I draw her.

Gonna level with you also, you going “I’m not trying to be mean” doesn’t erase how weird this ask is. Sounds like you have your own gripes that you need to work through. Like, if you consider those traits on Stella ugly, that means you definitely have some internalized hatred for fatness, skin blemishes, scarring, and other peoples’ general appearances if they don’t fit some specific molds that aren’t realistic for the majority of people. Even if it is just genuine curiosity, being aware of this stuff going forwards and reevaluating how you view beauty standards and bodies in general would do you a great benefit imo.

Thanks for going through my old selfies tho it was pretty weird of you but at least make sure to leave a like on them. I looked hot when I was fatter and I look hot now too sharing this with the world is the least I can do💕✨💕✨

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Forget Me Not as a character and other related things.

this post was brought to you by me, procrastinating on the second part of the Cover analysis and those yandere Pavia headcanons, and ALSO because mister lawrence cavendish jr is the second target for my brainrot

warning for suicide and self-harm themes!

On the subject of Forget Me Not's name and past.

It's Lawrence Cavendish Jr. Forget Me Not's real name is confirmed to be just that, as seen in this specific excerpt:

"Cavendish Jr, who was still alive and once sat in front of you [...]" which alludes to the dinner Vertin had at the Walden with Druvis III and Forget Me Not, and "'Forget Me Not', what a hilarious, stupid name". I only included this because I've seen people wonder about it.

What I mean to tackle in this point is the relationship between Forget Me Not, his origins and his current chosen name. Despite his calm and collected appearance, it becomes clear that Forget Me Not is one hair away from becoming entirely deranged, especially when confronted with the possibility of getting revenge. But why is Forget Me Not so focused on revenge specifically?

His backstory is not as openly laid out for us to read, but we can gleam some bits and pieces from all the documents and dialogue he has. To understand Forget Me Not, we also need to look at Druvis III.

All throughout chapter 02, we see parallels and connections being drawn between Forget Me Not and Druvis III - both of them appear to be extremely aloof, cold and collected, only to be revealed to be very emotional deep down, for better and for worse. Druvis III is initially defined by the neutrality and inertia that comes with being stuck in the past, while Forget Me Not is initially defined by the neutrality of the Walden and his ties with Manus Vindictae, an organization that rejects the future.

Druvis III is a disgraced, fallen noble whose life wasn't ruined by the fire that took her family, but the perception the world had of her, an image they forced onto her due to their hatred towards arcanists. And Forget Me Not has a family surname "buried in the dust, shot dead in history". A disgraced, fallen noble implied to have struggled with poverty, battling hunger and suicide countless of times. In the "··· Formula: 1920s" document, we can see a few pieces from various people and their opinions on Forget Me Not from the Big Mouth Bulletin. 3 out of 4 want him dead or think of him as a monster - entirely because of his existence as an arcanist.

The similarities are obvious. Hell, both share the theme of flora and plants, too. There is an even more subtle dynamic here too, alluding to the game's prominent religious imagery - Vertin's suitcase being compared to an ark that will brave the "Storm", the last supper moment, Arcana's offering, the orange, being a replacement for the apple of Eden...

And then, Forget Me Not association with snakes, rumoured to have a body covered in scales, with an arcanum skill that allows people to indulge in alcohol during the Prohibition Era - the snake that tempted Adam and Eve. Druvis III is associated with forests, trees, as well as a link between Vertin (the good guys) and Manus Vindictae (the bad guys) - the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The two go hand in hand and are linked together.

The big difference between them is that their respective quests to set things "right" are entirely different - their "revenge" is not the same. Druvis III was hellbent on finding out who set the fire that killed her family, not because she wanted them to face the consequences, but because in doing so, people would finally leave her alone and let her mourn. She could finally move on from something that she knew the truth of. Forget Me Not does it to feel satisfied with himself and get back at everyone who ever looked down on him or wronged him. To inflict as much as pain unto others as he had received before. It's a powerplay fantasy in which he finally wins, against all odds.

It's unclear what truly happened to the Cavendish that caused Forget Me Not to end up in such conditions, to the point where he'd go as far as make sure no one can trace him back to his family, to the point where not even the Foundation has a proper report on him.

But there is one line in particular that lives rent free in my head when it comes to the Cavendish and Forget Me Not's potential relationship with them.

This takes place after Druvis III loses her forest, after she loses her eternal branch because of Vertin's intervention during their dinner. They're talking about how to use her forest to build a refugee camp.

There's the possibility that Forget Me Not is simply alluding to that forest - something that used to belong to her is now something that he should have for the sake of Manus Vindictae's goals.

But! Indulge me for a second! There's a noticeable pause, there's a subtle tone to his voice. Reverse 1999's writing might be confusing at times due to the translation, but it's easy to see that it's loaded with metaphors, hidden meanings and so much more, to the point where reading deeply into everything most characters' say is pretty much the norm.

The dialogue that precedes that specific line is Forget Me Not insisting that he can transfer the ownership of the woods over to Druvis III anytime, because she has always been and will always be the only owner, no matter what. He does this to convince her to go through with Manus' plans, that's his main goal, he doesn't care about the woods. But that single line pictured above? It could mean so much more.

Again, the two share many, many similarities. So when Forget Me Not talks about what Druvis III once had - a prestigious family business, a name people can recognize, an assured future - is what he should have, it evokes a sense of entitlement and lingering resentment. Almost as if Forget Me Not's desire to go back to the past doesn't stem from nostalgia like her, but to reclaim something that was denied to him.

Which is incredibly ironic to me because both of them carried their family in their names - Druvis THE THIRD. Lawrence Cavendish JUNIOR. And yet, the one that worked so hard to obscure his origins and changed his family name was him.

Neither of these characters can be recognized nor traced back to their families by appearance alone - people need a name or a really good memory to truly recognize them. The only one with enough courage to continue carrying such burden is Druvis III. Forget Me Not wants something that he willingy lost the right to the moment he allowed Lawrence Cavendish Jr. to die and fade into obscurity.

The name "Forget Me Not" begins to sound more ironic. Like an order, a threat or the promise of his return - his desire for revenge and his hypocrisy become clear once you begin to dissect his character. Like the narrator in the "To Lawrence Cavendish" document says: "He is patiently waiting... to put his meanness, craziness and quivers under the sun". He's waiting to reveal himself.

The "stage" is shown when he makes people explode from inside out, a lot of people who recognized him as Forget Me Not, the mixologist. This is when we finally see his true intentions and the main difference between him and Druvis III, all in their respective reactions to the journalists.

She's terrified, thinking about the day of her family's funeral. On the other hand, he's ordering them to watch and record as he "takes everything he has been deprived of".

This is why the thing that breaks Forget Me Not is hearing that Druvis III does not care about the man who started the fire, that it's not important anymore. He believed them to be on the same page, that she would love to torture the single person responsible for all of her grief. The guy is projecting heavily onto Druvis III.

In the end, I don't know if Forget Me Not resents his father, his family name, if he had some sort of business to inherit and a "future" that was taken from him, or if they actually might've been a happy family.

What I do know is that Forget Me Not's desire for revenge was absolutely amplified and fueled by Manus Vindictae's own agenda. And that's why he works perfectly as both a victim of their MO and a willing member within their ranks.

He clings so hard to the past because there is no future worth fighting for, because everything would be much better if it was rebuilt from scratch with only those that won't oppose him and repeat history. He clings so hard that his new name and identity are, in the end, a plea for the world not to forget who he used to be and, at worst, an order because he sure as hell hasn't forgotten all the things others have done or said Back when Lawrence Cavendish Jr was around. Once his family outlived their usefulness or relevance within society.

TLDR: THIS is the cold-blooded, numb murderer who is actually very sad, empty and broken deep inside that some people wanted Pavia to be. Like, he's even sopping wet and sad and asking Vertin to kill him next time they meet.

Which leads us to my next point!

On the subject of Forget Me Not's self-destructive and suicidal mindset.

We've talked about Forget Me Not's views and relationship with the Cavendish - but what exactly is the end goal? He feels entitled to a better life, one he was supposed to have, and then what?

The "???" narrator mentions a woman who made a promise to Forget Me Not, as well as leaving a "sarcoma" behind which he then adapted and turned into his own. This woman is implied to be Arcana, as we see her talk to Vertin about being able to see the truth, to not be blinded - there's an emphasis in the way she recruits people by opening their eyes to reality. The sarcoma is the city (apparently "Windy City" is used to refer to Chicago, I had to google that but hey, that's pretty neat!). It's the world he lives in and that wants him gone. She focused Forget Me Not's grief towards it because in doing so, it would help Manus Vindictae's ideals of a world exclusively for pureblooded arcanists.

And even so, he remained suicidal. There was at least one more attempt at taking his own life, and that's when he saw "what had been on his mind". Whatever that might've been, no doubt influenced by Arcana and his situation, is what pushed Forget Me Not to "allow himself to revenge, revenge, re-re-re-revenge, and to die".

Ultimately, Forget Me Not's goal is to die at the end of it all - even after he gets his revenge, earns the life he wanted, takes back everything that was meant for him. This is why, after he's fully defeated, his last words to Vertin are to show no mercy next time they meet. To kill him.

This is not only a long and convoluted plan of revenge, it's Forget Me Not willingly marching into his own demise. And just like before, he's not strong enough to pull the trigger himself. Now that he has no solid argument to justify his anger - all because Druvis III has shown him that people can, in fact, move on - his only option is to have someone else end his life. He's shown tired, and the phrase "Don't save it no more" might indicate that even if there was someone who could repeat what Arcana did to him - give him a sense of purpose and a target for his grief - he simply doesn't have the energy for that.

Forget Me Not's self-destructive tendencies can also be seen in other ways. His job at The Walden is to cater to all the people who shunned him - he welcomes everyone and anyone for the sake of creating a network of secrets, he attends fancy parties and events full of those who call him a drug dealer, Satan's spawn and so much more. And he pretends to be someone else entirely while wishing for others to remember him. He willingly surrounds himself with all the things that hurt him.

His arcanum being related to alcohol is rather poetic to me - since Forget Me Not is said to have spiraled into decadence and into this extreme mindset, it makes sense that his main skill is related to being intoxicated and to drown into something that is largely hated but at the same time, desired and coveted. The Prohibition Era does have a very similar mentality to religion, namely western ideologies - you're meant to openly reject and loathe something, but the constant repression causes you to yearn for it instead. And at some point, this repression can become an addiction in itself, leading some to indulge in it. This loops back to Forget Me Not's association with the snake in the Garden of Eden.

It makes sense to me that he indulges in something so painful, while cohercing others into indulging in forbidden alcohol. That he later uses this very same arcane skill to kill all those people who, in his eyes, represent everything he loathes about the current state of the world. It's like a sarcoma that he now leaves behind, that kills from inside out.

And this is the last time I'll bring up Druvis III in a Forget Me Not post, but notice their choice of flower/plant? She has a mistletoe bouquet - a parasitic and toxic plant which represents positive things such as fertility, life and protection in many different cultures. Forget Me Not has black roses, roses being immediately recognized as one of the most beautiful flowers but, in this context, symbolizing things such as death and rebirth, remembrance, mourning. Their duality, contrast and the "two-faced" aspect is prominent there. And not to get very deep about character design, but Druvis III holds the bouquet very carefully and carries it around with her willingly, whereas the black roses that Forget Me Not wears wrap around his neck not unlike a noose.

To really drive home how Forget Me Not sees himself, here's the description they gave him for his boss fight.

They boil down his character perfectly, to all the little traits that make up his whole emotional baggage.

And to also put more emphasis on how Forget Me Not truly doesn't expect to live and "win" at the end of this whole revenge trip, here's his ultimate - "Heavengazing from Hell". He's fully aware that he's going to be destroyed by his own actions and that the only thing left for him will be to look up at heaven from hell. That all the good things will forever be out of his reach.

Now, onto proper headcanon territory, since I'm running out of media to analyze!

On the subject of Forget Me Not's scales.

As established before, Forget Me Not is associated with snakes - one of the segments from the Big Mouth Bulletin comments on this. "[...] he had scales under those long sleeves, one next to another embedded in his flesh."

And this can actually be seen on his in-game sprite! It's very faint, but there's absolutely some sort of texture peeking out from under his collar and sleeves that resemble scales. They can also be seen on the trailer animations. The only time these scales don't appear or peek out from his clothes are in The Walden illustration, with the other members of Manus Vindictae, but that can easily be explained as him covering up properly and the angle he's drawn in.

Originally I thought that they could be burn scars, as it would mean a stronger connection between him and Druvis III. But upon closer inspection, they don't look like burn scars at all.

I like to headcanon that it's a side-effect from his own arcanum, similar to how Rabies is implied to look like a scarecrow because of his involvement treating rabies. Being something "self-inflicted" - in the sense of him having the choice to stop and heal, but refuses to - also lines up with Forget Me Not's suicidal tendencies, the whole sarcoma metaphor and the fact that by carrying on like this, he's doing nothing but destroy himself and add to his suffering.

As for how far the scales have extended, I don't have a set favorite idea! Part of me really would love it if the scales coiled around his body like actual snakes, but also the idea of him having different patches of scales scattered throughout (again, like a sarcoma) and the third secret option of him being MOSTLY covered in them to the point where it becomes grotesque, something that he can't even look at.

They're not just a tattoo or pattern embedded onto his skin either - they're actual scales, cold and rough to the touch. The areas affected by this have grown numb, making it hard for Forget Me Not to feel any warmth or pressure applied onto them. This adds to that otherworldly and sinister vibe he's got going on, even if the lack of proper tactile sense irritates him. It's extremely uncomfortable if they're brushed or rubbed in the wrong direction, however!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not might pick at the scales, as if deciding whether he loves or hates them. In particularly bad days, he picks them out. I like the idea that, once picked, the scales grow faster and stronger, as well as in broader areas, making it a perpetual loop of picking them off from his skin.

Overall, it would be extremely easy to conceal them - he only needs a shirt with a higher collar and gloves or some make-up, but I like to think that Forget Me Not loves the idea of someone catching a glimpse of them, a reminder that he's dangerous and so much more than meets the eye.

As much as he he's been affected by the stigma against arcanists, he now thrives in their hatred for him and his existence - sneaking into places he knows he's not welcome is addictive, especially knowing everyone tolerates him because he's their only access to alcohol. The way everyone will turn around and talk shit about him once they're out of The Walden is fun, because it reinforces his views on why this current era deserves to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Forget Me Not has extremely poor eyesight.

I know the glasses look thin and pretty standard, but I just like to think that Forget Me Not can't see shit without them.

He has this habit of taking them off to "clean" them whenever he's talking with those he loathes - mostly humans - just so he doesn't have to look at them directly. Sometimes, he might just close his eyes and dissociate, pretending to pay attention if the situation calls for it. Yes, he's petty and hateful enough to feel physically sick when talking to people he hates.

If you pay enough attention, it becomes clear that eye contact becomes scarce, as if just looking at them will send him into a fit of rage (but he conceals it extremely well when needed).

Forget Me Not's poor eyesight is not a secret, and he often likes to make patrons nervous by making their drinks without his glasses - of course, he knows his way around drinks and potions, there's no chance of him messing up, he could do this with his eyes closed. But seeing customers squirm is such a delight. Because now, they must choose between making a scene in HIS territory or risk being poisoned with a poorly-made drink.

I like to think that he also just has a very fine ear, since he does play instruments (all of his attacks being related to music and him using a piano as his wand during the boss fight). So really, Forget Me Not couldn't care less about his eyesight.

Forget Me Not enjoys floral arrangement.

This is just based on his association with the actual forget me not flower. I think he enjoys creating bouquets or putting up vases full of flowers around his home, even if all of them may end up creating a very gloomy and decadent atmospere - they're perfect for funerals, and he simply may be preparing for his own.

And he leaves them out on display long after they've wilted. "They're more beautiful this way", he'd say.

It's not rare to find Forget Me Not on rainy afternoons with a pair of scissors on hand, absentmindedly cutting every leaf and petal off from all these roses, as if he had a personal vendetta against their colorful hues. Sometimes, he just twirls the stem around, pressing hard on the thorns to feel anything while he looks out the window. He's so very fucking dramatic and volatile.

Basically, I like to picture Forget Me Not as the type of person who has dedicated so much time into something as empty as revenge, that he absolutely has no idea what to do outside of that.

Everything he does is just a way to pass the time until he can go back to dedicate every waking second of his life into his and Manus Vindictae's plans, every "little pleasure" is just a façade, he doesn't get any real enjoyment from anything. Sometime he worries that revenge won't help him climb out of this apathetic life he's built for himself, but he can't afford to dwell too much on that possibility. Everything that he does is muscle memory, he's forcing himself to try and do it, because otherwise he could simply sit still in an empty room for hours on end, with the lights turned off, waiting and waiting - all alone with his thoughts.

[partrin]

"you're still the one," a rinharu drabble

the windows are shut. they keep the rain out when a storm is brewing, but the thoughts? they remain heavy on his mind, much like the rain, pattering down on him like the very droplets showering the earth, flora and fauna alike.

thoughts of, "why him?"

"why me?"

"why couldn't it have been me?"

they surround him like a fog - thick, dark and suffocating, swathing him in darkness even though the moon remains bright in the night sky.

"haru," rin says, turning over in the little coccoon he'd made out of their fuzzy blanket, "i can't sleep."

the silence stretches out far too long for his liking, but eventually he hears the sheets rustle and feels the warm body next to him turn around. the smell of haru's clean, lavender-scented hair permeates the air all of a sudden, and for a moment his mind is at peace.

"is it the rain?" haru asks, gentle and understanding. rin knows this isn't really a question. haru always understands.

rin is wringing his hands beneath the blanket, anxious and torn. he doesn't want to keep haru up. they'd had a long day and haru had complained of exhaustion the entire journey home. but haru had told him once that he could be selfish sometimes; that rin would always be high on his list of priorities, even if rin never believes it. rin is, to haru, a treasure he'd found and would keep safe for the rest of their lives.

"i can't sleep," rin repeats, feeling sheepish. he reminds himself of the broken record player sitting on the desk in his mother's room; the one that she could never bear to throw out for it had once belonged to her one and only.

a hand slides up his side, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

"what can i do to help?" haru asks, looking at him. his eyes are glazed over and his lids are heavy, but they look for signs in his lover's features.

rin stalls. he has a request he isn't sure how to relay.

"tell me," haru urges gently as he keeps up the gentle circles he's making with the tips of his fingers.

"could you-" rin pauses, clearing his throat. there's hesitance in his voice. "could you sing to me?"

stupid, he chides himself. stupid, rin, stupid. haru would never-

"what would you like me to sing to you?" haru asks, curious and keen. his response throws rin for a loop. haru? sing? does he actually mean it?

"just... anything." rin mutters quickly, desperate to beat the sensation of mortification setting in. haru has never once made he feel like he had to hide his vulnerable side from him, yet he is ashamed all the same. "something calming, maybe."

haru watches him carefully. it's clear to rin that he's thinking about it. his nose crinkles this exact way each time he's deep in thought.

"what about that one song you sang to me?" haru asks vaguely, trailing his hand up rin's side to gently cup his cheek. "i forget what it's called but... i've been listening to it since you... since you sang it to me. it calms me."

it's rin's turn to crinkle his nose and turn his mind upside down trying to recall what song haru's referring to. rin sings a lot. he sings all the time; in the car, in the kitchen while he's helping haru with dinner, in bed when haru is sleepy...

"which one?" rin asks back, gently placing his hand over haru's on his cheek.

haru frowns. "i... how 'bout i just sing it to you?"

the rain continues to patter against the window pane. rin finds himself nodding eagerly, tuning out the noise of the storm, hoping haru's willingness doesn't fizzle out. he needs this.

"okay," he acqueisces, nervous.

"close your eyes." haru says.

"w-why?"

"because i'll be embarrassed if you look," haru explains, frowning again. he sounds honest. "just listen to my voice and hopefully you'll be able to fall asleep. okay?"

rin melts into the blanket, already feeling the mortification sink its fangs into his being. "okay."

the rain falls heavily. a faint image of his late father repaints a vision of a memory far long gone and his eyes heat up with tears. his father used to sing to him when he had trouble sleeping.

haru takes a deep breath and begins.

"looks like we made it..."

[bluewings55]

No charmix redesign…

But a Sirenix redesign of my first Sirenix redesign!

I finished the Flora, Bloom Roxy and my Sona first so imma compare them with the old and new styles:

Note: i got inspired by bethnan.draws on Instagram. Obv i didn’t steal/copy her designs, i did however used similar/same inspiration she had, but obv changed a few things to keep it original.

Main changes: i kept the tail/skirt, but made them more transparent and a little longer. In general the colors are more simplified. I also went with a more bathsuit/bikini design too. I also removed the leggings cus they were a little too much. I also made the hair longer cus i like long hair :3 and i changed the wings too.

Generally, i have a power concept: i believe that certain fairies have more power depending on the transformation. (´neutral´ transformations like Enchantix or Mythix are excluded from this) They are more ˋconnected´ to their source so they are more powerful. The opposite works for fairies who have the opposite power, they feel less connected and are a little weaker bc of that. Imma tell you who has the most connection and how i symbolised it with shoes. Barefoot = more connected, sandals = less connected, shoes = least connected

Old VS New:

So for Roxy, i used a more simpler design. I did keep the beta fish look, but used a moon tail rather than a krontail. I made her hair longer and more colorful to fit her aesthetic more. I made her look more fishy and barefeeted cus i believe her animal powers are nature based, so she feels a lot more connected to the aquatic creatures that live there.

For my Sona, i went with a more simpler look too, making her look more similar to those dragon sea slugs (they so fcking pretty omg). Due to her dragon powers (read sona profile to find out more) she actually has scales on her body. Her element is the sky, so she doesnt feel as connected to the ocean so she wears sandals. Other than that, her look stayed pretty much the same, only her wings changed from silhouette

Old VS New:

Ok, i gave Bloom some leafy dragon seahorse elements, but in a totally different way ofc. Ofc, shes part dragon so she has scales too! Bc she has the power of the dragon flame, shes the least connected to the Sirenix transformation bc Fire is the opposite of water, indicated by her shoes.

You can have your opinions about this, i believe in this. No i dont hate Bloom or make her weak for fun. This rules counts to all the transformations and i will obv say whos weaker and stronger in what transformation. And just cus Bloom is weaker doesn’t mean she can’t kick ass. So haters don’t leave any nasty comments, this just feels more realistic to me.

Back to the topic: I made her hair more punky, kept her outfit pretty much the same since i adore the pink/plum colors on her.

My dear Flora looks as gorgeous as always. She too is more connected to the ocean due to her nature powers. The only changes i really did are the streaks in her hair and her wings.