#cupping it gently as one would a porcelain bowl......

[muffinsin]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 3: Unravel Me

[TWs for this chapter: Kidnapping, light drugging]

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Daniela walks slowly, her legs carrying her forth towards the front of the strange manor. The sound of the wind passing through little creeks in the stony mountains near have her flinch, the sound of the waterfall nearby so loud she barely hears anything else. She steps towards the door, then, when her hand pushes flatly against it, the wooden thing opens easily. Unlocked.

Cautiously, she looks inside. She can’t help her curiosity, though. All her life, living only at the castle, having only been in the village a few times to taunt some of the villagers here and there or to collect a maid. This is new. Mother wouldn’t approve, she knows. Cassandra would drag her back, she knows. Bela would make her return, she knows. She’s no fool, after all. But, this is so curious, so tempting.

She sees the inside, the dark wooden floors, the rocking chair and table, on top a bowl with wool, the thread leading deeper into the house. Daniela eyes it curiously, tracking it so far as she can before it leads past a corner she cannot see. She squirms a little. The manor is so invitingly warm, seems so familiar. So right, even.

It’s long since she’s heard the worried cries of her sister pleading with her to show herself. She feels lost, yet has never felt this welcome.

Some force pushes her into the warm house, and suddenly the sounds from the outside are completely sealed away as the door shuts behind her. Suddenly, her back burns, and Daniela doubles over at the pain. She cries out, whimpering into the nothingness when she feels the faint touches again, cupping her wet cheeks this time. But she sees no one, nothing- nothing but dolls and furniture and decorative plates on the walls. All is so different from how it looks at the castle.

Beneath her dress, the branding symbol of the Beneviento house sears as it comes back to surface. At least, it doesn’t hurt as bad as the first time, she feels, yet the sensation is enough for thick tears to roll down her cheeks and for her lips to dry, parted as she screams.

Then, just when she thinks it won’t stop anymore, the pain comes to an abrupt halt.

She straightens again, getting back to her feet. The manor looks abandoned, but something feels off. The lure is still there, the urge to follow it even more so. The Dimitrescu doesn’t yet know she is right in the beast’s belly, about to be swallowed whole.

Golden eyes trace over the dolls, each dressed in dark and light dresses alike, their porcelain skin beautiful. Then, she finds the string of green wool again.

She can’t help but reach for it, holding it gently between her fingers as she follows it deeper into the house. She finds a kitchen, large and spacious, but far less regal looking than any room back at the castle. No, this manor has no bright, golden and red colours. All here is dark and faded, but homely, humble even, in some way. It feels inviting, somehow. She feels a little less lonely in this seemingly empty house than she does at the large castle, she realises. She wonders; perhaps she can show this to Bela and Cassandra when she’s back.

Abandoning the string for a moment, Daniela inspects the kitchen. Despite the manor’s abandoned style, all is in place and tidy, save for the string. She opens a few cabinets, finding ingredients and tools she has seen at the castle, too. Cooking tools, she guesses. She finds bread and berries, herbs and silverware. As she caresses the counters with her fingertips, she finds not even the faintest trace of crumbs on it. On the counter are vases, sporting yellow, red and even white flowers. She allows her fingertip to trace a petal gently, before her attention drifts to the part of the room besides the kitchen.

A table, small, and a sofa and chairs. A bookshelf. Immediately, she rushes towards it, a large smile on her dark painted lips. Then, she flinches back when she finds a doll sitting on one of the chairs. It’s dressed in a simple black dress, voluminous and rich looking. Her hair is cut short, to her shoulders, but looks adorable paired with the little black hat sat on it. Daniela can’t help but smile. She reminds her of the dolls Alcina had gotten her and her sisters as reborn fly spawns, back when her sisters had the time to play dress up and play with dolls with her, back when they had time to indulge her and participate in her parties. Now, she can only do so by forcing some maidens to join in, though knows they never quite want to. And even as she tries it occasionally, a tea party with only her and some mangled corpses as attendants just isn’t any fun.

“Aren’t you a cutie!”, she praises, and while the doll doesn’t move or answer, unsurprisingly to her, she finds she feels a strange sensation of pride and satisfaction spread within her body, emerging right from the mark on her back. She giggles at the light feeling, thinking nothing of it, and turns back to the shelf.

There, she pulls some books aside, though frowns when she finds no romances or fairytales among them. Still, at the back of her mind she notes that Bela would likely enjoy the many studies and biographies the bookshelf holds. Maybe she’ll show her those, if she ever stops working and has the time to see this place for herself, she can’t help but think bitterly.

Finding nothing of interest, she returns to the string and follows it deeper into the place.

Rounding a corner, she finds another hallway, less rich than any in the castle, even feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She pauses for a moment, watching the string as it leads down the hallway and right to a corner, again.

“Good”

She jumps at the voice, low and ghost-like, coming from the walls. Or her head? Daniela shivers a little at the mere thought of such a thing.

“Closer”, it beckons. She can’t help but obey.

She follows the string again, finding two doors at the hallway. She reaches for the handle of one, but shrieks when the string in her hand burns hotly, matching her sore back. Immediately she returns to the middle of the hallway, looking around somewhat like one might describe a lost puppy. The poor thing is panting, feeling the string and her back calm again. Clearly, there is no time to explore the place to her liking.

Her feet move beyond her control, carrying her deeper into the quiet house. She finds more dolls sat along the counters and the floor, all seemingly watching her. She shivers, walking on her own again, her curiosity growing.

Rubbing the string between her fingertips, she wonders whether this is it. Could it be? Could her lost lover be trying to contact her? Will this mark the end of her loneliness? She shivers, the air heavy, but still she feels anticipation.

As she walks down the hallways of the manor, deeper and deeper, memories return to her.

Memories of sitting by the flowers, crying, a kind woman comforting her. Dressed in black, intriguing. She knew her, she knows. But, who? She follows the string to an elevator and giggles. How modern! Oblivious to the danger she is in, Daniela steps inside and allows its metallic doors to close behind her. She shivers again at the ghostly touches caressing her back and shoulders. Already, she feels less lost, less alone. This must be it!

Without pushing a button, the elevator moves downwards.

Another memory hits her, of herself this time. She feels what she felt, the love and anticipation and submission as she kneels on the ground for the woman before her. She feels the woman’s fingers on her, caressing her cheeks, then trapping her chin. She looks up obediently despite the elevator being empty aside from her and a few dolls she hadn’t noticed before. She thinks nothing of it, she likes the small puppets.

Daniela gasps as another phantom touch has her feel a hand sliding past her back and her hip. The memory is gone, but she feels it, she feels how very close she is.

Just a little more, then she knows.

She must know.

Just a little more.

When the doors open, she gasps as something hits her, something familiar. She feels as if in a trance yet again, pheromones around her leading and luring her in, her vision slightly blurred, her body heavy, her flies entirely unresponsive. She doesn’t jump when the dolls by her side jump to life, doesn’t flinch away when their little hands grab at hers and lead her out the elevator.

She follows obediently, her head a fuzzy, blurry mess.

“Come”

“Closer”

“Very good”

The voice, so low, so beautiful. She knows it, she’s so sure she’s heard it before, but where? She closes her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips as she is led along.

Daniela no longer cares for exploring, for her environment, for returning to Bela, for retreating to the castle again. She needs to follow the voice, needs to find its origin, her lover so close, she’s so sure. Her soulmate, her everything. It all feels almost within her grasp, now. They’d understand if she stayed away just a little more, she’s sure.

The memory of the previous night continues on, Daniela sees the dark, shadowy figure of a woman. She hears her low voice, the same she hears now. She feels lightheaded, smiles wide when she feels the memory of being undressed. She doesn’t notice the ghostly phantom hands return to her, copying the movements she’s remembering until the torn cape clasped off and her dress comes off. She’s so happy, so calm, so utterly lost to her love and the memory.

She feels the love she felt, feels the warm embrace. Her back burns and it feels so nice and warm, so comforting. She’s so lost in everything, Daniela doesn’t even notice it when the collar always hugging her throat is removed, the green gemstone breaking as it falls to the floor abruptly. She can’t bring herself to notice, can’t bring herself to care, to resist. She will be taken care of, she will be loved. The poor, delusional thing is dreamily thinking of introducing her lover to her family.

She feels the sensation of the memory, her hands grabbed and moved behind her back, setting her up in a perfectly submissive position. Her legs still move, carry her deeper. She’s so close, she knows it. She leans into her memories, pleading with the mysterious woman to grant her more, to let her remember the last night to its fullest.

Daniela’s body flushes as she remembers being pushed against her lover’s cunt, her nose grazing her clit. She remembers the fingers dipping into her in turn and instinctively pushes her thighs together even as she walks. She feels it, almost, the blissful feeling and taste of it all.

“Good girl”

“Come closer, my darling”, Donna coos, sensing how the petnames feed into poor Daniela’s delusion. She’s so close, nearly has her doll precisely where she needs her.

Daniela gasps as she walks blindly, led by the dolls and the phantom hands at her hips and shoulders. She tastes the woman’s lips, tastes them against her gentler ones. She feels it, almost sees her, almost there. She sees dark clothing, strong, skilled fingers. She hears her voice, commanding her to spread her legs, she feels the pleasure that follows from her obeying. Why would she ever not want to obey? She loves the sweet reward that follows.

Donna watches as Daniela steps into the dark workshop, her eyes open but glossy, her reality turned completely, trapping the little doll in her delusions and memories, a fantasy world created by none other than her skilled dollmaker.

She doesn’t move, leans confidently against the workbench as Daniela approaches her, led and pushed gently, completely bared to her save for her soaked underwear and stockings. She sees the woman’s hard nipples reacting to the environment, smells her arousal even.

Daniela gasps as she’d made to cum, her back burning, so bad, so good. She’s cradled, her eyes heavy. When she gazes up, she finds the dark eye of none other than Donna Beneviento.

[ironfloret]

had a very rough night tonight and can't sleep. i'm allowed one (1) pokeboy post. here's morty petting his drifblim :)

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤkisses and soupㅤ...ㅤ( 제이크 )

ㅤㅤ﹙826﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, est. relㅤㅤwarnings the reader is sick, kissingㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ for everyone who's not in a good health, hope you feel better soon. as always, please rb and give feedback, it helps a lot ^_^ iNDEX

“babe?” jake pokes your cheeks gently and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling your blanket down a little. he smiles lovingly at your sleeping face, brushing a few loose strands of hair off your face before speaking again. “wake up, angel. i made you some soup,”

he chuckles at how you groan softly, mumbling ‘five minutes more’ under your breath. he knows very well that the five minutes would turn into an hour in just a blink of the eye, and had it been some other day, he wouldn’t have thought twice before agreeing, even sliding in next to you under the blankets to wrap you in his arms.

“you said that twenty minutes ago,” he shakes your shoulders gently, waiting for you to wake up. he watches as your eyes flutter open, taking a few minutes to adjust to the light before you sit up and lean against the headboard.

you glare at him— try to, even though it only makes him laugh at your cute face and the adorable pout on your lips. “you’re even cuter when you’re sick, you know that?” 

he catches you huffing at his words, admiring how beautiful you look even though you’ve just woken up. your dishevelled hair, drowsy eyes, soft sleepy voice and actions that are laced with laziness as you reach out for the bowl kept on the bedside table before retreating your hands. “i want some water first,”

and jake loves to take care of you when you’re sick, as much as your condition worries him to death. he would do every single thing you ask him— as he does now, making a quick run to the kitchen since the bottle on the table is empty— and all you have to do is sit there and look pretty…and get better, of course. 

“here,” he returns with a glass of water that he holds out for you, and the refilled bottle that he places on the table, right next to the picture of you two on your very first date. he takes the glass from your hands when you’re done, lost in your beauty for a few seconds yet again. if he could, he would treat you like this every day, where you wouldn’t have to get out of bed for anything. 

“now, the soup,” he reaches out to grab the bowl, interrupted by your quiet and bedridden voice.

“it’s bitter,” you speak through a frown dancing on your lips, knowing very well how the supposed ‘magical soup’ tastes— a name given to it by his mother since she used to make it for him as a kid whenever he got sick. and how he’s doing it for you. 

he sighs, brushing his thumb on your skin and drawing soft, soothing circles on the back of your hand, giving it a tender kiss that makes your heart swell up with warmth. “don’t you want to get better, sweetheart?”

“you said i’m cuter when i’m sick,” and it makes him laugh how you haven’t lost your cheekiness even when you’re stuck in bed with a terrible fever. 

he notices how you pout even more when he laughs, causing him to scoot closer to you and cup your face ever so gently as if you’re porcelain. “you’re the cutest when you’re not sick,”

as much as you hate him for discarding your excuses so that you don’t have to drink that thing, you feel the butterflies in your chest when he cups your face with eyes that look at you as if you’re his entire world. and jake would agree because you are— his beginning, end, and everything in between and beyond. 

you squint your eyes when he leans closer, brushing his thumb over your lips and leaving his feathery touch lingering on them for a few seconds longer before you speak. “what are you doing?”

“i’m kissing you,” he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, immediately capturing your lips in a much needed yet unhurried kiss. he moves one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and then in your hair, while the other slowly intertwines your fingers. 

you pull back shortly, despite yearning to feel his lips against yours once again. your eyes linger on his lips for a brief second before you frown at him. “you’ll get sick,” 

he doesn’t give you any room for negotiation, immediately putting his hand on your back to pull you closer, almost on his lap. the grin on his face widens when he hears you gasp at the sudden movement, even more so when he takes your hands and puts it on his shoulders just the way he likes it. you’re about to say something but he interrupts you with a quick peck, hands resting your waist just a little tighter. “well then, kiss me till i’m sick of it,”

and the soup grows cold next to your bed, left unattended for the night. 

taglist is open

[chaoticnezz]

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You grabbed the bowl of sugar cubes you had made earlier, and set them on the tray. You also grabbed a small ceramic cup the color of the cup was black with gold details, if you could afford that cup you would buy it with no hesitation. But unfortunately you couldn't.

You took the tray off the counter and began to walk around the place corridor, stoping at a set of giant doors with roses engraved into the wood. *Knock* *knock* "come in." You opened the door with one hand before putting both hands on the tray and walking into the room.

Walking into the room you spot prince Koji sitting on his bed looking upset. Prince Koji often wore black which matched his Black hair. He also had heterochromia so he had one black and one blue eye. You thought it was cool but not everyone thought like you, perhaps his heterochromia is why all of his lover's left and he has such a hard love life.

That would make sense because everyone here wants nothing but perfection, and they probably see heterochromia as something not perfect.

You set the tray down on the nightstand next to Princes bed. You carefully grabbed the teacup and handed to the prince who took it gently. "How many sugar cubes would you like master Koji?" "... four" you grabbed four sugar cubes and carefully plopped them into the tea trying not to splash the hot tea everywhere.

Koji takes a small sip of tea, Koji opens his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "I'll get it" you set the tray on the nightstand bowing to prince Koji before running to his chambers doors.

"Hello, master Koji is trying to rest right now, so how many I help you?" "Ah I see, when master Koji wakes up hand him this letter it's from his father." You gently take the envelope that was handed to you, "I will, thanks." You gave the man a small bow before shutting the door.

"A letter from your father master Koji." You hand Koji his letter before grabbing the tray and taking it back to the kitchen. Prince Koji didn't own a large place but it was still bigger than a village house. You put the sugar cubes back inside the pantry. Grabbing the rest of the dishes on the tray, you began to put them in the sink and wash them. 'I hope master Koji feels better soon, he's been down ever since his fiance cheated on him and left.'

*Crash* you jumped at the sound of porcelain hitting the ground, looking around you noticed that you didn't drop anything. Then it clicked you left the teacup with prince Koji. You walked quickly over to Koji's room, not being able to run because you were in your work gown.

"Prince Koji are you alright!?" You asked once you were in his bedroom. "I'm alright I just dropped... My cup." For some reason Koji looked very upset over a cup. You walked next to him and began to rub his back in a comforting manner with one of your hands.

"It's alright" after awhile of you rubbing his back you walked to the other side of the room and grabbed the broom and dustpan. You swept up all the bits of porcelain and dumped them into the trashcan.

"Prince Koji you should get some rest" you turned his light of before facing him again. "Goodnight Koji." You gave him a small smile before shutting the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrapped yourself in your coat making sure you had your money. You were heading to the market to buy a new tea set. The tea set that Koji broke was one of the only ones you had in the palace.

You opened the door and were met with the cool breeze of fall. Deciding to make the trip quick, you began to run in the direction of town not noticing someone watching you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Koji's always loved how your name rolls off his tongue, even since the first day he met you. When you were first introduced to him by his father, you were so shy and timid he loves seeing you grow out of your shell.

When Koji open the letter earlier he couldn't believe what he read 'dear Koji, if you are unable to keep and find a wife I will have no choice but to fire all your maids and servants. And sell the castle.

In a fit of rage Koji grabbed the teacup you had left for him and smashed it onto the ground. That's when you came into the room and began to comfort him, he felt so relaxed by your touch that he fell asleep.

He woke up to the front door slamming shut. Looking outside Koji got the wrong ideal he thought you were running from him.

Before he could even think properly he ran towards you and tackled you. "Gah" you landed on the ground with a hard thud. Koji's mind spaced out he didn't even notice the words that left his lips. "If you ever try to run again, I'll break your fucking legs."

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 20

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 19, Part 21

1K special

Warning! This is yandere, sagau imposter au so expect lots of gore in the series. This chapter is tame in comparison to the others.

The moon glimmers in the starlit sky as a hand brushes against your newly scarred skin. Eyelashes fluttering, your vision begins to focus on the plain ceiling above you. 

A coarse groan leaves your cracked lips as you flinch from the sudden pressure on your stomach. The hand quickly retreats as a pale green blob comes into view.

"...are…eeling?" The voice is barely picked up as your ears ring. Squinting your eyes, you swallow the dried saliva tasting faintly of blood.

"W-Who?" The word is coughed out as your throat struggles to form the words. Before you can ask for water, a cup is brought to your lips. The cold water brings sweet relief to your parched body.

Your senses begin to sharpen and clarity is brought back to your vision. Baizhu stands next to your bed helping you drink from the cup, though Changsheng isn't wrapped around his neck like she normally would be.

The water runs out and he draws the cup away. "How are you feeling? Your body is technically healed of its major injuries but it's still trying to adjust. The pain will continue to persist for a long while."

"I feel better than before." The reply is automatic as your hand twitches in an effort to move your muscles. The recollection of what had even brought you to Baizhu's care is a slow trickle as you process his words.

Shenhe, Yelan, the treasure hoarders, the fall and Qiqi are slotted into your memory like perfect puzzle pieces. The small pitter-patter of footsteps coming closer to you and the sound of metal being set down goes unheard by you as you focus on sitting up.

Soreness and exhaustion are impossibly heavy weights as you struggle to lift your body a few inches away from the mattress. Gentle hands support your body, along with much smaller ones on your other side. 

"Thank you…" Your words are choked out between your bitten lips as a dull ache plagues your body. Clenching the blanket in your fists, you sigh in relief as a cold compress is applied to your bare back.

Wait, your bare back?

The strangeness is not lost on you as you look down at yourself. A thin hospital-like gown is all that you seem to be wearing with the blanket pooled around your waist. It takes a second for you to properly process what this means for you before you’re frantically reaching up to your face.

“No need to fret, your mask was left untouched during the treatment.”

It seems to be the truth, as your fingertips are met with cool porcelain and flaking blood. Not to mention the casual way Baizhu is speaking to you and the lack of Millelith guards swarming you.

Licking your chapped lips, you eventually arrive at the question: where do you go now? Ningguang would surely kill you if she finds out you’re still alive. Zhongli is still expecting an answer, god knows what Yelan would do and Shenhe is a wild card-

The thoughts racing in your mind are abruptly cut off as a metal tray is plopped onto your lap. A warm bowl of soup and yogurt with a soft pastel color greeted you. The refilled cup of water placed on your bedside is ignored as your mouth waters at the sight of the meal.

“Clear chicken carrot soup and fruit-flavored yogurt.” A child-like, monotonous voice comments with a deeper melodic voice following up. “I would have had food suited to your taste, but you hadn’t awoken until now. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nope.” You replied by popping the ‘p’ before pulling the tray closer and picking up the utensils. Allergies didn’t concern your ravenous mind, as your dormant stomach awakened painfully at the smell of food. Who knows, maybe your creator buff will also prevent any allergic reactions.

An upside to being the creator was something you desperately needed after the saga of pure bullshit you’ve been through.

Baizhu gently directs Qiqi out of the room after instructing her a message you couldn’t bother to hear as you gulp down the food. When he returns, he sits next to you as the moonlight shines down from the window.

“Let me explain your previous and current state while you eat. Qiqi brought you in with multiple minor injuries, a few stab wounds, head trauma, elemental damage, with fractured and broken bones. That’s not even mentioning the severe blood loss and infections beginning to manifest on your poorly healed past injuries.” Each description is like a stab to the heart, with the visualization of your passed out body arriving to Baizhu on death's doorstep crystal clear.

“Thankfully your body reacted well with my elemental healing so the life-threatening wounds were healed, without infections, and your critical condition was toned down. That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

The soup and yogurt is picked clean, leading you to gulp down the water next. Looking at him, you open your mouth to ask for more food when he cuts you off firmly. “Don’t bother asking for food, the arrows didn’t hit your lungs or heart, but your abdominal organs weren’t spared. You’ll be stuck with light meals until I’m positive it’s safe.”

Resisting a scoff, you ask him. “So what’s my current condition? Will I have to stay here overnight? Hold on, can I even afford that? How much did this treatment even cost?!”

“Please calm down, Y/N.” 

“How did you-”

“Your name was etched onto the bag that Qiqi brought along. As for payment, there’s no need to worry. You had a rather generous benefactor that has given us more then enough mora to cover your total cost in every possible scenario.”

That was suspicious beyond belief, but you didn’t have a reason not to believe Baizhu either. Baizhu would have healed you even without payment, but not being in debt was ideal. 

This benefactor either wants something from you, wants to kill you themselves, or knows you personally. 

A few people come to mind that could fit your suspicions but with so little knowledge you couldn’t confirm anything. Instead, you asked. “Isn’t doctor-patient confidentiality a thing? Did they leave any message for me?”

If Baizhu was surprised, then he hid it well. “She knew your name and appearance, though I never confirmed that you were here. She simply left the money and a verbal message asking you to have dinner with her tomorrow at 1800 in Xinyue Kiosk. But please be aware that I’m not forcing this, whether you would like me to refund the money so you can avoid interacting with her or not is completely up to you.”

Shaking your head, you declined it. “I’ll go. Since everything is paid for by her, does that also include any medicine I have to take for whatever current injuries I still have?”

“That’s right. I’m mostly prescribing supplements for the blood loss and fluid imbalance. Some are for the bones that broke, even repaired they might cause problems, so calcium intake is also important. A simple drug for your immune system, as your body's defenses are relatively low from the wounds. As well as per needed fever and pain medications.”

… You didn’t want to imagine the cost of those medications, let alone the treatment. A dinner in the most expensive restaurant in Liyue within the city with an unknown woman isn't that bad. 

You've met people in worst locations and survived this long.

Pushing back the lingering worry, you focused on Baizhu’s explanation over what condition your body is in, what time to take the medicine and any other problems that could arise. It was boring, but you weren’t looking to get sick from your own stupidity.

The conversation had gone as you expected for a while until he brought up a strange topic. Flipping through a few papers, Baizhu steered the topic onto your- “Scars. Many of what you suffered from will leave new scars on your body. It’s the old scars that were peculiar.”

Knowing your luck, your scars must also be known to them. But you weren’t going to bring it up if he didn’t.

“They are imbued and cultivated with a power that is strikingly familiar, yet foreign. It actually perfectly correlates with my researched point of interest. I wanted to ask your permission on getting a sample of it before your discharge.”

That was a risky request. Your face stayed neutral as you thought to yourself. The consequences could be minor, but what if it became another situation of an accidental connection to the Creator again?

Looking back at the smiling snaked eye man, you opened your mouth to respond when he suddenly gave the fakest gasp.

“I almost forgot to mention that your old scar formations are the exact locations of the Creator’s real scars! This along with everything else I’ve seen is almost enough for me to report this to the Mille-”

“For fuck's sake just take it.” You could be excused for not playing mind games this time, being nearly dead should be enough reason for a day off. 

“I want some form of compensation, though!” Being stupidly tired is a different matter then being just plain stupid.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll most likely take the sample sometime tomorrow before your discharge. So please, tell me what you have in mind by noon tomorrow so I can fetch it in time.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Baizhu would ask this of you. Your body has clearly undergone some changes as you lived in Teyvat and Baizhu is dead set on finding a way to be immortal. 

There was a time you had wondered if you might be immortal due to being the creator, so maybe Baizhu can figure it out with your sample.

“The last thing I want to address before you rest is-” Baizhu is cut off by a knock on the door. He glances at you, asking permission to open the door with his eyes before you nod firmly. Qiqi walked in earlier without knocking, so maybe it’s a visitor? But considering how late it is, maybe you were wrong…

“Come in Qiqi and bring the visitor in too.” 

The door opens slowly as you watch Qiqi walk in stiffly with a yawning girl following her in at a similar height. Long light brown hair is loose as the girl rubs her eyes tiredly. 

“Hello Dr. Baizhu, I came back to check one last time if the oracle- Oh!” Caramel colored eyes widen at the sight of you sitting on the bed, and the girl hurriedly gives a polite bow. A yellow plush bunny is smooshed in her arms in the process.

“Hello, pardon my rudeness. My name is Yaoyao and I was sent by my master to check on you! It’s my honor to make your acquaintance, Y/N, or would you rather me call you by the oracle title?”

The ‘little adult’ looks different without the decorative bells she usually wears in her tied up hair, but the bunny was a dead give away. You smile at the nervous girl while wondering just who told her about you being an oracle.

Baizhu was giving you a look that basically screamed suspicion.

“You can just call me Y/N. By master, you mean Madame Ping, right?” Yaoyao beams at that as she steps closer.

“That’s correct, we learned about you from the other Adepti and Xiangling.” You should have known. “When we heard that you were here, I was sent on my Master's orders and Ganyu’s concern. Visitors weren’t allowed earlier, but I wanted to check one last time.”

Ganyu too? That basically guarantees Ningguang, Keqing, Zhongli and even more knowing that you’re here. But more importantly was the fact that Baizhu investigated anything connected to the Adepti for his immortality quest. 

You could only hope that Baizhu would be happy with a basic explanation and the sample of your scar tissue as promised.

“Visitors was the last topic I wanted to address.” Baizhu smoothly joins as he gets up from his seat and heads toward a desk on the far side of the room. A small pile of letters and a pile of gifts sit on the table next to your bag. How didn’t you notice it before?

“After a patient here noticed you before she was discharged, she and her guardian left you a letter with a present. I believe she may have been the one to spread it, but I ask you to kindly not hold anger against her. She’s rather young.”

So the little leaker was a child? It could be one of the kids you saved, but none of them could really afford to go to Baizhu. Not that he would have denied them but most children in that situation don’t go unless on the verge of death or pushed by an adult.

“It’s okay, I’ll look through the stuff in the morning.” As if on cue, Yaoyao fails to hide a yawn as she walks to stand next to your bed.

“Auntie Cloud Retainer and the rest of the Adepti told Master what happened on Mt. Aocang. Master really wants to meet you, so if you have any time to spare, please pay her a visit here at the Yujing Terrace near the Yiyan temple.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you make a mental note of that before asking Yaoyao a question in return. 

“Just how many people in general know that I’m here? I know quite a few people and Qiqi being here must have been quite a spectacle… But surely it must not have been too much considering that it was the middle of the night.”

The nervous expression on Yaoyao face dashes away any hopes you had. 

“Sorry Y/N but a lot of the city was speaking about you. Even nature and the animals kept mentioning you! Though they were a little more vague. If it helps, most people know you as a masked person rather than your name.”

Sighing, you don’t even bother hiding the distaste on your face. Changing masks wouldn’t do much and you sure as hell can’t remove it either, leaving you with the sole option of leaving. 

Leaving before anyone else can attack you in this fast-pace city filled with greed and ambition. If you stayed here any longer, you’ll surely be pulled into whatever new situation happens and only get more attention. 

The dinner you had first worried about is almost miniscule compared to the threat of Yelan and Shenhe knowing your location. More so, Yelan as she has an obligation to get rid of you due to her job rather than Shenhe’s emotional motive. 

Your mind replays the last bit of your fight where you had touched the waypoint and- Oh fuck. Groaning, you dumped your face into your hands as Yaoyao watched you worriedly. Her worried calls rolled off you like waves as you remember how the teleport waypoint glowed in front of everyone.

That’s a complete group of people, treasure hoarders nonetheless, that saw you activate it. Yelan could use that information and the witnesses in whatever stupidly clever way she wants!

Yaoyao looks back at Baizhu confused as he shakes his head silently. Qiqi picks up a glass of coconut milk and begins to walk towards you with it before Baizhu blocks her way.

Fingers digging into your scalp, you resist the urge to pull your hair as you bite your still slightly bruised lips. The realization of what kind of ammo you gave Yelan was killing you. 

Baizhu takes the glass from Qiqi and puts it back down before handing her a glass of water. Qiqi stares blankly at Baizhu before switching the glasses again. As the two continuously switch cups, Yaoyao rummages in her bag.

A sting of pain begins to grow as you get dangerously closer to the recently healed head wound. The smell of something sweet yet earthy snaps you out of your stress-fueled self depreciation as small hands pry your rough ones away.

“Please be careful Y/N, Dr. Baizhu is a great doctor but you shouldn’t hurt yourself like this. Have a candied date, it's golden honey flavored and works great to get rid of the bitter medicinal taste that he prescribes.”

It didn’t smell too bad, so you hesitantly took it from her hands and glanced back at Baizhu in case he tries to confiscate it. With his back safely turned, you pop the candied date into your mouth.

It’s a nice taste and it does work well as a distraction from your worries. “Thank you Yaoyao.” Your hand reaches out instinctively and pats her head. “The Creator views you fondly and one day your fate will intersect with the creator’s just like it did with the Adepti.”

The lie flows smoothly from your mouth as she smiles brightly up at you. Her eyes move down to the blanket as she responds. “I still don’t quite know what that means, but I’m sure I’ll be able to properly appreciate it once I’m older.”

Qiqi joins you both and hands you a glass of water that you take from her gratefully. Your hand leaves Yaoyao’s head to rest on the bed, making Qiqi look away with a pout. Before you can question the unexpected reaction, Baizhu redirects the conversation.

“I understand that you hold some valid concerns over your safety, Y/N. This situation isn’t one we deal with frequently, but we do have measures in place.”

The look you send him speaks a thousand words as he sighs and adds. “Free of charge, of course, as it counts as patient confidentiality.” 

“Bubu’s Pharmacy has tight security measures and Millelith frequent the area due to it being near the Yiyan Temple and the Welkin Temple.” You were 100% sure that the second temple did not exist before you came here. “Me and Qiqi both reside here and as experienced vision holders, you’ll be in safe hands.”

Nodding in understanding, you can’t deny that it felt safer knowing you weren’t going to be left alone. Your body was still exhausted and in the midst of healing so you didn’t have much energy to defend yourself with if Ningguang were to send another person after you.

“Qiqi doesn’t sleep much, so she’ll keep an eye out for anything amiss.” And you were right back to feeling anxious. Baizhu was relaxed as he tidied up the room, while Yaoyao spoke softly to Qiqi.

Glancing at the zombie child, you repeated the mantra to yourself that anyone could be a DPS in Genshin. You just needed to check her equipment before bed.

Yaoyao turns back to you with a sleepy smile. “I’ll be taking my leave now. I wish you a swift recovery, and I look forward to seeing you again with my Master.” With a casual wave, you let that be your only farewell as you drink the glass of water Qiqi handed you earlier.

Baizhu pats his clothing down as he calls out to Yaoyao right as she opens the door.

“Oh Yaoyao, since you’ll be relaying the message to Madam Ping and Ganyu, please have Ganyu tell Ningguang about Y/N’s acceptance to dinner for me as well.”

The water you were drinking goes down the wrong way at those words. 

Coughing, you yank the glass away as you look back up to the surprised Baizhu. “Did you say Ningguang? Was she the one who paid for everything and asked for the dinner?”

Baizhu smiles pleasantly with little regard for your shaky tone as he nods. There goes every flicker of hope you had that Ningguang wasn’t your benefactor.

Every drop of blood your body synthesized to restore you back to normal is drained as you pale at the confirmation. Just how the hell did you manage to meet Zhongli, Yelan, and Ningguang!? 

They are all people you wanted to avoid, and you definitely shouldn’t have met, considering the fact that people pay to even get an hour with Ningguang, let along a whole ass dinner invite!

Was there some stupid rule that goes along with being the creator making you meet nearly every acolyte that exists?

So busy cursing yourself and the entirety of Teyvat out, you don’t notice how Baizhu corrals Yaoyao out of the room before heading to you, as Qiqi watches from the sidelines.

“My, my you’ve gone pale at the news Y/N.” Baizhu’s glasses glint a little from the flickering lantern illuminating the room. He smiles down at you with half-lidded eyes that stare at you strangely.

“I didn’t realize that I forgot to tell you who it was. If you decide to, we can always cancel it and send a priority letter before discussing a payment plan.”

Squinting your eyes, you shake your head ‘no’ as you try to read the simultaneously shady yet reckless doctor. It didn’t seem like he had any malicious intentions, as he very much did mean to hide it. But you can’t be sure that he had any good intentions either.

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to discussing alternate ways of paying that don’t require mora.” …Yeah, no matter what way you put it or how clean Baizhu keeps his reputation. One can not simply not be seen as shady while going around saying stuff like that.

So not only is Baizhu showing signs of that strange attachment in a matter of hours, but Ningguang decided to suddenly switch her tactics. From ‘investigate and kill if deemed a threat’ to ‘generous wealthy person that totally isn’t covering up a crime’.

Could you possibly get Yanfei to sue Ningguang if you aren’t poisoned at the dinner?

Maybe, but that’s all riding on the chance that you aren’t killed in some coincidental accident before then. Waving away the pessimistic and slightly comical thoughts, you look up at Baizhu as he dims the lantern. 

“The pharmacy opens at 0900 in the morning. Are you willing to take visitors from that point on till your discharge at 1300?” Briefly looking at the letters and gifts, you nod silently.

Baizhu’s smile doesn’t waver as he responds casually. “Many people will be happy to hear that Y/N, you seem quite popular.”

He opens the door before kneeling to Qiqi’s height. “The last order I have for you tonight is to keep watch over Y/N and protect them if need be. Understand?”

Qiqi tilts her head at that and blandly states. “Order received. Order cannot be processed. Original intended function still active and in place.”

Baizhu frowns at that as you look at Qiqi curiously. His expression quickly smooths back to a calm smile as he stands up. “As long as the ending is the same, then I don’t mind.”

He glances at you one last time as the door creaks open to show the dark hallway. Slitted eyes meet yours, full of curiosity and intrigue. They almost glow as he steps into the hallway with Qiqi in tow before the door closes softly.

Sighing in relief, you flop back onto the bed and roll in the covers for a position that won’t put pressure on your aching muscles. Baizhu’s increasingly strange behavior slithers back into your mind as you close your eyes.

Just why didn’t he ask you about being an oracle yet? Is he planning on getting the Millelith? No, he would have done so much earlier. Maybe he’s trying to gather some blackmail on you? 

The possibilities torment your exhausted mind as you finally settle on just explaining yourself tomorrow when you get the scar sample from you. When you open your eyes, the flame has already burned away, leaving your only light as the moon. 

Staring at it, you think back to the waypoints. Are they finally fixed? Can you use them again? You couldn’t test it out now, but you could do so when you leave after the dinner with Ningguang. 

Which region should you travel to next? There was no may you could stay or go back to Inazuma, so it’s either Mondstadt or Sumeru as they are the closest. 

Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what traveling through the terrain would be like to arrive in the city. Frowning, you continue by imagining what it would be like traveling in that region for the weekly commissions.

It’s a simple decision really as Sumeru had a wide range of animals and poisonous plants to fight past. While Mondstadt had that sweet peaceful greenery from being the starter city with the lowest amount of treasure hoarders thanks to a certain Cryo user.

Deciding that you’ve picked your brain enough on the topic, you shut your eyes for some actual rest.

A moment passes, and then another, as the wind rustles the leaves on the tree outside the window. The faint sound of a sweet croon reaches your ears as you stubbornly keep your eyes closed.

As your mind is slowly consumed by the heavy exhaustion and the dimness of the room, two thoughts come to mind.

One, you forgot to check Qiqi’s equipment. Two, just what made you be locked out from the teleport waypoints if it counts as a game mechanic from Genshin Impact itself?

—---------------

“The moon is quite beautiful at this time of night.” A kind and knowing voice says as wrinkled hands pick out the bits of leaves from long white hair. The moonlight illuminates the silvery strands as it gradually is picked clean to its former glory.

“Child, just what has happened that you come to me out of all the Adepti for assistance?” A red rope is cut into perfect portions and tied to form the perfect braid. A Cryo vision sits innocently as the centerpiece, while a monochrome ornament adorns the top.

“I cannot advise you on the matter that troubles you if you do not speak, Shenhe.” Iridescent eyes finally move up from the ground to meet the elderly woman’s warm ones. Shenhe struggles to speak as her head dips forward.

“I… I hurt someone badly. But they hurt me too.” Shenhe holds her hands together in a prayer like motion as her eyes flutter close. “But at the end, they showed me something I couldn’t believe. No. That I refused to believe and even helped me.”

With a hunched back and patience learned over thousands of years, the old woman stays quiet. Giving the oh-so apathetic disciple time to put her thoughts into words.

“I don’t know what to do, and master isn’t the most adept when it comes to humans. But you, Streetward Rambler are, in more than one way. You constitute as a human more than me.”

Shenhe closes her eyes as she thinks back to her encounter with you. The truth you didn’t hesitate to spit in her face, the raw anger you expressed at her delusions and denial.

“I just want to understand these emotions. Are they a witch’s, an Adepti’s or a human’s emotions? Not even these ropes are stopping them!” Shenhe tugs at the newly bound rope in frustration but stops at the touch of light fingertips.

Madam Ping smiles warmly down at Shenhe. “None of those answers are correct child. They are simply your emotions. And I believe deep down, you already know what you feel. You just don’t know what to do with them.”

Shenhe looks at the ground with a mixture of guilt and self-loathing swarming inside her. It was true, wasn’t it? That day you spoke her feelings in the bluntest way possible, but here she was, still trying to deny it.

“Then what do I do? Is it really okay to love someone that hurt you? I don’t want a repeat of my childhood… I just want to treasure and use this new chance at connecting with my entire self that the Creator has graced me with.”

The hand that pats her head is familiar and warm. Childhood memories of her shedding those human emotions she once thought weak come to mind before Madam Ping’s voice brings her back.

“Trusting in the Creator and following the path they opened for you, no matter how scary or concerning, is always the right path. Follow me Shenhe.” 

Madam Ping is quick to walk away toward the two temples, as Shenhe follows her swiftly. The Yiyan Temple for the Geo Archon is laughably small in comparison to the huge Welkin Temple behind it.

They climb the stairs past the Yiyan Temple and enter the luxurious archway leading into the Welkin Temple. Decorations laced with jewels, paintings of the highest caliber, and statues of the rarest minerals are a common sight in it.

As Liyue Harbors sole temple, the city and its citizens spared no expanse in making sure it was top-notch. That included the deceased Geo Archon who left it in the care of the Liyue Qixing before his passing.

The pair walked through the halls as many people prayed and worshiped within the dead of the night without care for the passing onlookers.

Everyone gathered here at this time of night is here to do the same thing after all.

A couple of people amble past the determined Adeptus and disciple into the barren clinic as physicians begin to care for them. The blood, bone, and missing parts of skin are applauded before quickly being catered to. 

Madam Ping enters the hallway where many citizens wait outside the rooms for their turn. Yet instead of stopping like Shenhe expected, the old woman brings her to a hidden staircase around the corner.

The two climb up and up, till they reach the rooftop where an alter sits. Shenhe is well aware what she must do for the answers she desires. Kneeling before it, Shenhe gratefully takes the ceremonial spear handed to her by Madame Ping.

“You have matured enough to earn the privilege of giving a piece of yourself to the Holy One. I can only excitedly wait for the day my own disciples can have this honor.” With a calm yet cheery chuckle, Madame Ping moves away from the grave faced Shenhe.

“Oh Holy Creator, God of all that has lived, lives, and lives on. Listen to this acolytes prayer and grant me but a crumb of your wisdom. Though I am foolish and mortal, your mercy shines down on in the form of that person.” 

The spear is raised into the air as Shenhe stays kneeling and points the spear down.

“Please, Divine One, show this wretched girl just how I’m supposed to make it up to Y/N.”

The spear drives down and the crimson droplets stain the altar like a dazzling flourish of rose petals.

Well this took a long while. This time it wasn't school but just personal stuff. Between house hunting, family feud, car problems, and just trying to keep up with school. I haven't got much of a break. But things have finally calmed down somewhat so I used it to get this done. What also helped was making the outline for the 1k special. I think I should have it done for the next update instead of the regular chapter. But I did notice that a good chunk wanted regular chapters instead so I got a compromise. The special features Mondstadt (as most sagau start in Mond so I thought it would be fun) and it'll be a teaser to what Mondstadt has in store for you all. I'm not sure how many of you have noticed but each region has a certain theme when it comes to worship. Inazuma with sacrificing, Liyue with self mutilation, and Mondstadt will be hinted at in the special. My editor, @serpent-benediction, did this super late last night so props for once. But if there are claims to being anything more than an editor then don't listen. I keep basically everybody in the dark. Kinda feel like death so if you have any questions or comments I will answer them as soon as I can read again. Taglist: is open for anyone so just comment if you want to join <3

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe

[mxtxfanatic]

Everyday Means Everyday, or the Forever Honeymoon

If you're like me, you probably ended your read of mdzs going, "damn, I'm glad wangxian got to ride off into the sunset and I hope nobody dares to bother them ever again." Luckily for us, mxtx obviously agreed and set us up with a multitude of extras focusing solely on wangxian's blissful marriage. On the last day of celebrating the great Hanguang-jun's love for his (deservedly) spoiled husband, here's some scenes of excellently fluffy pampering of the fearsome Yiling Patriarch:

Wei WuXian immediately added, “Fine, I know. No walking too fast, no speaking too loud, no this, no that, am I right? Don’t worry. Now that I’m back with you, I’ll definitely be as careful as possible to not violate any of the sect rules on your Wall. As careful as possible.” Lan WangJi didn’t even think about it, “It is fine. Even if you violate them...” Wei WuXian keenly picked up, “Hm?” Lan WangJi seemed as if he finally realized that what he said wasn’t too appropriate. He turned his head to the side for a moment before turning back, his face serious, “... Nothing.”

...

Wei WuXian gloated, “With what you said, if you began to practice your arm strength ever since so young, you can do absolutely anything upside-down, can’t you?” Lan WangJi, “Mn.” Seeing his eyelids droop, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed, Wei WuXian grew even bolder in his words, “You can even do me upside-down?” Lan WangJi, “I can try.” Wei WuXian, “Hahahahahaha... What did you say?” Lan WangJi, “I can try tonight.” Wei WuXian, “...”

—Chapt. 114: Banquet Extra, exr

However, just as he was about to brave up and down the entire bowl of the weird medicinal soup all in one gulp, he suddenly realized that the bowl in front of him was already empty. Wei WuXian, “???” He couldn’t help but picked up the delicate little bowl, thinking, I did just drink one tiny sip, didn’t I? Is there a hole on the bottom and everything leaked out? But the table was spick and span, without a single trace of soup. Wei WuXian looked to the side. At the same time, Lan WangJi had his last sip of the soup as though nothing happened. After he closed the porcelain lid, he looked down, and was currently using a snowy handkerchief to wipe the corner of his mouth. But Wei WuXian clearly remembered that Lan WangJi had long since finished his bowl. He also discovered that Lan WangJi’s table seemed to be a lot nearer to his than before the banquet started. It was like it’d been shifted stealthily. Wei WuXian, “...”

...

After a disciple brought over the warm water used for bathing, Lan WangJi, who’d long since dressed himself, peeled the stark-naked Wei WuXian out of the thin blanket and carried him into the wooden tub. Somehow, Wei WuXian could continue to sleep even as he was steeped in water. Lan WangJi pushed him gently, and he’d catch Lan WangJi’s hand, kissing it both on its palm and its back, rubbing it on his cheek before he went back to sleep. When the pushing really began to annoy him, he’d whine a couple of times and pull Lan WangJi down, eyes still shut, cupping Lan WangJi’s face as he kissed a few more times, murmuring, “Good boy, stop messing with me. Pretty please? I’ll get up in just a bit. Yeah.” And with a yawn, he’d fall back asleep, clinging to the edge of the tub. Although he knew, even if the room burned down, Wei WuXian would probably find some other place and sleep, Lan WangJi still persevered in waking him up starting at five, then endure dozens of pecks expressionlessly. He brought breakfast to the Jingshi and laid it on the desk that in the past only held ink, paper, and brush, then fished the dead-asleep Wei WuXian out of the tub to wipe him clean, dress him, and tie his sashes. Only then did Lan WangJi finally take a book from the shelves and flip open to the page with the dried flower bookmark, sitting by the desk and slowly beginning to read.

—Chapt. 115: Banquet Extra, exr

Wei WuXian wanted to continue playing dead, but it seemed as if Lan WangJi opened the lid of something as a strong savor of spice overwhelmed the cold sandalwood that originally perfused the Jingshi. At once, Wei WuXian got up from the ground with a roll, “Er-gege! I’ll do everything you say for the rest of my life!” Expressionless, Lan WangJi took out the dishes from within the box and laid them on the desk. Wei WuXian gravitated towards him. The sight of the red color atop the half-a-dozen white plates made him so joyous that his eyes glowed red, “You’re too kind, HanGuang-Jun, it’s so thoughtful of you to go out of your way and bring back food for me. You can order me around no matter what you do from now on.”

—Chapt. 116: Banquet Extra, exr

As [Lan Wangji] watched Wei WuXian cling to the edge of the tub, reading the notes carefully and at times propping an elbow on the desk to write, the candlelight reflected against Lan WangJi’s eyes seemed to flicker with warmth. Although his words were rather bold, claiming he could go two more rounds and such, it was difficult for him to not feel the fatigue, having run amok in the mountains with the boys for the whole day, messed around in bed for half the night, and marked a stack of notes. After he forced himself to meticulously mark his portion, he tossed it onto the desk before sliding into the water. Quickly yet gently, Lan WangJi picked him up, wiped him dry, and transferred him onto the bed.

...

Oh, right. HanGuang-Jun, I’m out of money. Give me a bit more, won’t you?” Lan WangJi, “Simply take the jade token to withdraw the money.”

...

Wei WuXian, “... I told you to stop talking... Even if you say just one word, I won’t be able to hold myself from responding... Okay, Lan Zhan, let’s sleep. I... can’t anymore... I really have to sleep... See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan...” He kissed Lan Zhan’s neck, and indeed soon fell heavily asleep. It was all darkness and silence amidst the Jingshi. A moment later, Lan WangJi planted a gentle kiss in the center of Wei WuXian’s forehead. He whispered, “Wei Ying, see you tomorrow.”

—Chapt. 120: From Dawn to Dusk Extra, exr

[Lan Wangji] walked beside Wei WuXian, “Which one do you want?” Nothing of high quality would be sold at the small, street- side businesses. They were mostly filled with little objects that were adequately put together and looked decent from afar. The porcelain turtle that Wei WuXian got was already the best looking one out of the bunch. Wei WuXian looked around the scene. The more he looked, the more he felt that every one of them was ugly and that he didn’t want any of them, finding the decision difficult. Suddenly, he saw a stuffed donkey that was extremely ugly, so ugly that one wouldn’t even be able to ignore it when glancing across. He beamed, “That one’s good. It looks like Lil’ Apple. There, there—get that one.” Lan WangJi nodded. He stood four yards further than Wei WuXian and turned around as well. The hoop landed on it perfectly. The crowd cheered and clapped. Lan Wangji turned around to look at Wei WuXian who leaped inside with laughter and seized the donkey, carrying it under his armpit as he clapped the loudest, “Again, again!”

—Chapt. 126: Yunmeng Extra, exr

[doc-pickles]

hat trick | sidney crosby

summary: sidney goes three for three on and off the ice.

warnings: mentions of sex, kids, pregnancy, morning sickness, breeding kink if you squint

a/n: this is my first hockey fic! I missed writing so this was a fun little intro back into it. enjoy!

xoxo nina

one.

You sighed as you settled onto the couch, watching as the Penguins skated off the ice. They’d just been eliminated in the first round of playoffs after a tough five game series. You knew Sidney would be devastated when he came home the next day.

What you weren’t expecting was Sidney coming home before 6 AM. You were still fast asleep when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“Mmm Sid? You’re not to supposed to be back till noon,” you mumbled as Sidney’s hand trailed under your sleep shirt.

“Missed my favorite girl,” Sidney’s words were muffled as his lips pressed to your neck, eliciting a low moan from you.

You rolled onto your back and looked up at Sidney whose lips were trailing over your skin, “As much as I love you, the sun isn’t even up yet. Did you even change before you jumped in bed?”

“No, I’m on a mission,” Sidney’s lips were still pressed to your skin as he spoke, his hands trailing up your sides to brush at the curve of your breasts. “I’m gonna win the Cup next year.”

You giggled as Sidney stripped off your shirt and his before his lips met yours in a hot kiss. You pulled back, meeting his eyes, “Which is a great goal babe, but I don’t see how us having sex has anything to do with that.”

“Our baby is gonna sit in the Stanley Cup next year,” Sidney grinned down at you.

“What baby?”

“The baby I’m going to put into you,” Sidney’s voice was low and thick as his fingers reached down and slipped under the lace of your panties, coaxing a low gasp from your lips. “Gotta start now, there’s no time to waste babe.”

“Sid-“

Your words were cut off as Sidney kissed you once more, his fingers slowly sliding into you. You’d talked about kids before, but you always thought he was the more hesitant one. His eagerness to start trying right away made you smile as his teeth gently sunk into the delicate skin of your neck.

“Fuck baby,” Sidney groaned as he leaned away to look at you. “Can’t wait to fill you up, see you growing with my baby.”

You blinked up at Sidney as he waited for you to answer the question hanging between you. With a small grin you reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair, leaning your forehead against his.

“Well what are you waiting for? Put a baby in me Captain.”

-

The excitement in the arena was contagious as Sid skated across the ice, the Stanley Cup held high above his head. Your husband had never looked so happy, his grin threatening to overtake his face as he skated over to you.

“I’m so proud of you baby,” you grinned as Sidney pulled you in and gave you a passionate kiss. “So freaking proud.”

“I love you,” Sidney grinned before extending his arms towards his mom who was standing behind you. “Hand her over, I’ve been waiting far too long for this.”

Trina grinned as Sidney kissed her cheek and then took the baby in her arms. Your daughter Sophie was only three months old but she wore a bright smile as her dad brought her against his chest. Tears threatened to run down your cheeks as Sidney leaned down to place her in the top of the Stanley Cup, cameras flashing all around you.

“C’mere,” Sidney gestured to you and you quickly pressed yourself into his hold. “Wouldn’t be here without you. I love you baby.”

“I love you too Sid.”

two.

“Babe! I’m home!”

You groaned as your head rested against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl, your stomach churning as you took deep breaths. You could hear Sidney come into the house, dropping his bag and ducking into Sophie’s room before heading towards your bedroom.

“Babe?”

You went to answer but your stomach decided to roll unpleasantly and you’re bent over the toilet again as you gagged.

A warm hand rested on your back as you groaned, your body lurching forward again. Sidney pulled your hair back from your face.

“You need me to go get anything for you,” Sidney asked as you finally stopped puking, your head resting on his chest. “Meds or some soup and crackers?”

You shook your head as you groaned, “No I’m fine. I just wanna nap.”

“You sure you don’t need anything? I love you but you look awful,” Sidney pushed your hair away from your face as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“I’m fine,” you sighed as you leaned further into his hold. “Your demon spawn is just trying to take over my body.”

“What the hell does that… Wait,” Sidney leaned back and looked you over. “You’re pregnant?”

You let a small grin take over your face, “Don’t sound so shocked, you’re the one that insisted we celebrate the Cup win everyday for two weeks. Multiple times. I’m pretty sure this baby is a result of a shit ton of champagne and the time you dragged me into the broom closet during that gala.”

“Hey! This baby was not conceived in a broom closet,” Sidney grinned as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I love you. And I’m excited for another little one to chase around.”

“I’m excited to, but I’d love to stop puking up my guts,” you smirked as Sid squeezed your shoulders.

three.

“Sophie! Stop running, you know I can’t keep up with you!”

You groaned as your four year old raced ahead of you through the crowds of the arena. While Sophie had grown up within the walls of the PPG Paints Arena seeing her sprint through the halls still made your heart flip. Thankfully Taylor took off after her, scooping the little girl into her arms.

“Oh sweetheart, you need a nap,” Trina Crosby settled her hand on your shoulder as she sidled up next to you. “Running after two babies is hard work enough, throw in another one on the way. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You smiled and hoisted Violet higher on to your hip. Trina and Taylor had both offered to carry her but the little girl was glued to your side, even with your nine month baby bump in the way.

“I’m okay for now. Besides, this could be Sid’s last time winning the Cup, I’m not going to miss it for anything,” you grinned and settled a hand in your bump. Your third baby was giving you a hard time today but you tried to silently convey to them that this game was important. “Plus Taylor has Sophie covered and all Vi wants is cuddles.”

Troy chuckled as he joined your group, placing a hand on your shoulder, “And what will you do if this next one is a spitfire boy like Sid?”

“Hand him off to his dad,” you grinned as Trina and Troy both laughed. You headed into the suite behind them, settling into a chair as Violet scrambled toward Troy who gladly hoisted her up.

Game seven of the Stanley Cup finals was eventful, everyone in the suite cheering loudly as Sidney scored his first and second goal of the night. Sophie was bouncing excitedly between Taylor and Trina while Troy was trying to explain the game to Violet who simply kept yelling ‘penguin!’ any chance she got.

“C’mon boys! You got this,” you yelled as you watched the Penguins battling it out on the ice. “Let’s go Sid!”

You watched with bated breath as the tied game ticked down to its final seconds, Sidney commandeering the puck and shooting it into the goal for win and a complete hat trick.

Trina, Troy, Taylor, and you cheered loudly as Sidney and his teammates celebrated their victory. Sophie and Violet cheered as well, not quite knowing what was happening but excited none the less.

You and the Crosby’s headed down to the ice to congratulate Sidney on another win. Your hand floated down to your bump as a sharp kick from your third child hit you, “I know, you’re excited too. But can we settle down a bit please?”

“Baby giving you trouble?” You grinned widely as Sidney skated up to you, placing a hand across your bump as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Congrats baby,” you smiled as you placed your hand on Sidney’s chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Sidney mumbled into your hair as he pulled you close. “You and the girls and this little one mean more to me than the Cup.”

“But the Cup is sure nice,” you giggled as Sid looked over your shoulder at the Stanley Cup.

“Sure is,” Sidney laughed just as the baby produced a harsh kick against his hand. “Hey there buddy, you excited about the win too? Once you get here I’ll sit you in the Cup, promise.”

Sophie ran up behind you, looping herself around Sidney’s legs. “Daddy! You won again!”

Sidney hoisted Sophie up, Violet reaching for you from Troy’s arms. With both girls between you and your husband, you smiled as the Penguins media team snapped photos of your family. You were notoriously private about your kids but today was a celebration for Sidney so you didn’t mind sharing your family moment with the world.

“You’re missing this Cap,” Kris skated over with the Stanley Cup, settling it in front of you and Sidney. “Honorary family member.”

“I think it’s Vi’s turn to sit in the cup,” Sidney grinned as Violet smiled up at him. “C’mere pretty girl. Crosby tradition, littlest one sits on top.”

Sophie wiggled out of Sidney’s arms as he took Violet from you, the 18 month old smiling widely as her father placed her in the top of the silver cup. You smiled for a few more photos before the celebration continued. You stayed glued to Sidney’s side as he accepted congratulations from everyone, his hand rested against your bump as he held you close.

“Mommy! You peed your pants,” Sophie gasped as she pointed at your leggings that were now sporting a dark stain. You could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric just as a sharp pain radiated through your stomach.

“Sid we might need to take this celebration elsewhere,” you looked up and met your husbands wide eyes. “Looks like the baby really was excited to celebrate.”

Excitement buzzed around you as everyone scrambled to get you and Sidney out of the arena as quickly as possible. You let Trina fawn over you, checking to be sure you had everything and assuring you they’d take care of the girls.

Once you and Sidney were settled in your car with an escort out of the crowded parking lot you turned to him with a grin, “Going for the double hat trick?”

Sid’s brows furrowed as he glanced over at you, “Double?”

“Yeah baby number three means you’ve officially achieved the dad hat trick,” you grinned and Sidney chuckled as his hand gripped yours. “I’m so proud of you Sid. You were amazing tonight.”

“Thanks baby,” Sidney smiled and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

[iwaoiness]

Iwaizumi is hunched over his office desk, fully absorbed in restructuring Hinata's training plan after his shoulder injury showed promising improvement and drafting a rehabilitation plan for Komori’s ankle sprain. Papers are scattered across the desk, his MacBook open next to a few books, their pages marked with colorful tabs. The bowl of fresh fruit Tooru prepared and gave him with a kiss on the cheek now sits empty.

It's a sunny, peaceful, and quiet afternoon.

Until hurried footsteps echo down the hallway, making Iwaizumi lift his eyes from the papers just in time to see the ajar door swing wide open, revealing a frantic Tooru. His hair is a complete mess from his nap, and he is wearing one of Hajime’s old, wrinkled t-shirts, the hem covering his snug boxers, just showing a thin line of fabric clinging his thick thighs.

Hajime blinks, about to ask, but Tooru crosses the room in three long strides, grabs his chair, and wheels him away from the desk. Then, without hesitation, Tooru plops down on his lap, facing away from him.

“Toor—?”

“Shh, your left hand!” Tooru interrupts, and Hajime immediately closes his mouth, watching over his husband's shoulder as he clasps his left hand and lifts it, placing beside his.

The contrast between their skin is striking; Hajime’s darker complexion against Tooru’s paler, almost porcelain-like skin. Tooru’s fingers are longer and more slender, his nails neatly trimmed and cared for. Faint freckles, the color of chocolate, dust the back of his hands. Hajime’s hands, on the other hand, are broader with thicker fingers, the nails always short.

“Thank heavens, it’s still here,” Tooru whispers before collapsing against him with a loud sigh, his entire back resting against Hajime’s solid chest.

“Are you going to tell me what happens?” Hajime murmurs near his ear, his right arm wrapping around Tooru’s waist while his left hand remains cradled in his husband’s gentle grip.

He watches as Tooru purses his lips, his brow furrowing slightly, as if debating whether to share or not. Hajime waits patiently, his fingers slipping under Tooru’s shirt to gently trace the soft skin of his stomach.

“I… I had a dream,” Tooru finally speaks, his thumb brushing over the gold band that circles Hajime’s ring finger, “where I had my ring—our ring—but you… you didn't have it. And I went crazy because… it was so real, Hajime. You kept telling me you weren't the one I married, that we never even got married because I never wanted to choose you, and…”

Hajime’s heart tightens in his chest, imagining the anxiety Tooru must felt during the nightmare. He tightens his hold around Tooru’s waist slightly, pressing a tender kiss to the base of his neck. “Tooru, you know that—”

“And I was married to the baker from that bakery I always say has the best milk bread”

Fucking what?

“What?” Hajime blinks owlishly as Tooru shifts to face him. He doesn’t look as distressed as Hajime first thought, but now that he’s this close, can see the faint redness under his big eyes.

“But I swear, I would never, ever choose anyone over Iwa-chan! Even if they make the best milk bread in the world!” Tooru vows with such endearing sincerity that Hajime’s heart swells with affection.

“Oh, well, that’s a relief.”

“Are you trying to hold back laughter, Iwaizumi?”

“I would never.”

“Liar!” Tooru releases his hand to cup Hajime’s face, gently tugging at his cheeks. Despite his protest, a smile spreads across Tooru's lips. “Trying to trick me when we’ve known each other for 38 years!”

“Still only 38? Feels like an eternity,” Hajime teases, and Tooru squawks in indignation, stretching his cheeks further, making him laugh.

Truthfully, an eternity with Tooru is exactly what Hajime wants more than anything in the world.

And maybe to learn how to bake the best milk bread in the damn universe. Just in case.

...

i love theeeem

u can find me on my ao3 and here my super carrd 🍉

[simp2537]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢

A/n: Hey y’all, hope y’all enjoy this. I’m gonna put a picture of what the base of Alice!reader’s costume looks like at the ends. It’s not prefect and doesn’t have all the details but it’s just the base. Hope y’all enjoy this.

Word Count: 2,189k

Trigger Warnings: Gore, Blood, Horror, Cursing, Child Abuse, Human experiments, Child abandonment, Angst, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Insomnia, etc

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔢𝔫

Y/n sniffed softly as she rubbed her eyes. She stood in the circle holding tightly onto the softball. Rolling her shoulder her hand began to glow. Her classmates eyes widen slightly. 

I wonder how far I get this thing

As her hands began to glow in many different colors she threw the ball forward. With searing lights the ball flew through the air.

“989.7 meters.” Aizawa voiced holding his device up. 

“WOAH! So manly!” The bright red head yelled. Y/n turned to her classmates, a small smile on her face. She slowly exited the circle, going to sit next to Shoto when a group of boys surrounded her.

“Hey there, my names Denki Kaminari!” The Pikachu looking boy said sliding his arm over her shoulder. Y/n smiled softly with a small giggle.

“Eijiro Kirishima!” The red head announced. Y/n quickly turned to him, her eyes meeting his crimsons. Immediately she moved to his side pulling at his spiked hair. 

It’s so soft, and it’s so smooth. 

His face flushed the same color as his hair as she played with it. He laughed softly down at her as she played with his hair.

“And I’m Hanta Sero.” The boy with tape on his elbows voiced. Y/n hummed softly as she stood next to Kirishima.

“You’re so manly!” He voiced happily. With a small tilt of her head she stared up at him. 

“Manly? But I’m a girl.” Kirishima’s face fell in a nervous chuckle. Aizawa watched his daughter with a small smile. While he wanted to pull her away from the boys she was getting older.

It did break his heart that she wasn’t so small anymore. She wouldn’t crawl into his lap as he graded papers. She wouldn’t sit on his shoulders as they walked around.

From her side Y/n glanced over at Aizawa. Her eyes were soft and looking for guidance. She was nibbling in her lip, her fingers were twitching in Kirishima hair. 

He gave her a small nod and she smiled brightly. Y/n turned to the boys talking softly with them as they all gushed over her. 

………………………

The cool breeze sways gently across Y/n’s figure. She slowly drank her juice as Aizawa showed the quirk placement test rankings. As she stared up at the rankings she offered a small pink candy to Shoto.

He took it from her hand gently and popped it into his mouth. She stared at the hologram as her names popped up. 

1st place that’s kinda neat, didn’t even realize I was doing so well

As her whole class looked down at her, she stared back. Her eyes caught the angry blondes and she couldn’t help but smile. The way his body seemed to quiver as she simply sat on the ground. 

No drive, not a care in the world that she’s beat him. He growled softly as he turned his head away from her. As Aizawa informed the class no one would be expelled Y/n just stood from the ground. Dusting off her pants and plopping a green candy into her mouth. 

“I'm surprised the rest of you didn't figure that out. I'm sorry, I guess I probably should have said something.” Yaoyorozu told the panicking green haired boy. 

Yeah, you should have 

Y/n giggles softly as her classmates sighed. Her eyes followed her father as he walked away handing a slip to the green haired boy. 

Slowly she moved to him with a smile. Snapping her fingers her the white porcelain tea pot and cups floated in the air around her.

“Tea?” She asked with a small smile. His brow furrowed as the pot pour out. The tea itself was a milky white. A small cream pitcher full of a red velvet looking milk poured in. The blue flower covered sugar bowl spooned out yellow sugar into his cup.

Then one of the painted blue roses flew into the cup dissolving instantly. The teaspoon swelled around in the cup, mixing it all together, and slowly, the tea turned into a royal blue color. She offered the teacup to him with a gentle smile.

“Drink it’ll make you feel better.” She offered with a smile. Slowly he took the cup and brought it to his lips. Drinking the cup dry its contents the cup lifted away from his mouth floating in the air. His finger cracked back into place as a healed over completely.

“Woah that’s amazing. Is that your quirk? Healing tea?” He asked amazed. She tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“That’s incredible. You’d be an incredible rescue hero with a power like that!” Uraraka yelled happily. Y/n smiled softly as she grabbed her tea pot.

“What a lame quirk! You’ll never make it pro with that!” The blonde yell laughing. 

“Dude! So not manly!” Kirishima voiced. Humming softly while staring at Bakugo Y/n held her tea pot up. She point the snout to his head. 

“Boom.” It was like an explosion went off. A mass of fire and ashes flew past the side of his face. A small piece being at his skin and she laughed. Her classmates back away from her at the noise. Staring at his bewildered face she turned away. 

Bakugo stood there, his eyes ablaze. He thought to himself, “whoever that girl is, I’m gonna crush her.”

………………………

Aizawa watched as his daughter stood holding her tray of food in the cafeteria. She looked indecisive and small. He never wanted her to feel small again.

“Why can’t we just bring her to the teachers lounge!” Hizashi whines wanting to grab Y/n

“Because Hizashi she needs to socialize.” Aizawa said through gritted teeth. The obnoxious blonde at his side pouted and crossed his arms. He wanted just as badly to grab his daughter. To pull her to the safety of his classroom. 

“Look at her just standing there all alone!” He squealed. “I just can’t take it anymore!” The blonde went to grab Y/n. He moved two steps away from Aizawa when the familiar scarf wrapped around him.

“Don’t you think I want to grab her. I know this is all new to her. Do uou honestly think that the most selfish parts of me doesn’t want to pull her away!” Aizawa declared quietly. Her gaze traveled back to her. The red head from his class was by her side.

They were smiling and talking. He hated it. I hated that she was no longer his little girl. He hated that she had to grow up now. He hated that he had to stand here watching her and he couldn’t just be next to her. But he knew better. 

She was growing up. That was a fact he’d have to accept. He could only want what was best for her. 

“As her father… I know she needs to do this. I have to let her go sometime. At least here I can still watch over her.” Aizawa admitted quietly. The scarf was pulled away from Hizashi. His blue eyes bore at Aizawa’s sighing gently. 

“Well I’m not her father! So I’m gonna pull her away from that stinky boy!” Just like that the scarf wrapped right back around him. Aizawa sides softly, pulling him away from the scene. At least it looked like she was having fun.

………………………

Y/n napped quietly when the door to her class was thrown open. Look up through her hooded eyes there stood All Might.

Really uncle might, you always wake me up. 

He stood in his older costume, it looked tacky to her. But not everyone had 𝒜𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒 as a style console. She looked out the window staring as the gentle flow of the wind. She watched as the walls expanded revealing cases with bright neon green numbers. 

“But one of the keys of being a hero is... looking good! These were designed for you based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started." All Might announced. The whole class jeered loudly. 

Quickly Y/n’s hands flew to her ears. Trying to drown out the noise. It buzzed in her ear annoying. She watched as one by one her classmates grabbed their costumes. She felt a gentle hand in her shoulder.

“Lost in your own world again?” Shoto asked softly. Nodding her head softly she took the case from him. 13 was plastered on it in blood neon green. 

“What if I think it’s really ugly?” She whispered as his cold hand helped her up. He shrugged as the pair began to walk towards the locker rooms.

“You’ll figure it out.” She smiled and walked into the locker room. The other girls were already half dressed in their costumes. Slowly going to the corner she began to take off her clothes. 

Piece by piece she removed them till all that remained was her shirt. After a few seconds she pulled it off. Left in her bra and underwear she went to open her case when an audible collective gasp rang through the room. 

From behind her the other girls stared at her. Her body littered with scars, on her back especially. Yaoyorozu blinked herself out of her trance quickly trying to break the other girl.

“What?” Y/n asked softly opening her case. 

“It’s nothing!”

“Yeah totally nothing!”

“Your set is just really nice!” Nodding her head she began to dress

“Would you like for us to stay a minute?” Mina asked with her bubbly smile.  Shaking her head, the girls filed out of the room, leaving her to her thoughts. As she dressed she couldn’t help but scrunch her nose

They gotten the design all wrong. She looked messy and dare she say ugly. It was mess of colors and different fabrics. The air behind her warp as the families green eyed short blonde stood next to her.

“𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓂 𝐼 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉!” Y/n giggled softly as she was sat down. Ribbons, fabrics and lace float through the air. A black ribbon weaves itself through her hair pulling it up into a ponytail with tiny braids. 

The messed colors were quickly changed into the more desired look. The ugly stitching was fix up. Y/n sat patently as 𝒜𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒 moved around her quickly. 

“𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼’𝓂 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊… 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑜𝓊𝓈.” Y/n could only smile at her words. 

………………………

In the training area All Might looked around nervously. He’d counted for all his students but one. The one student he trust had to watch over, lest he endure Aizawa’s wrath.  As all he students stared at one another’s outfits he panicked silently.

Y/n was the only student other that Midoriya really matter to him. Y/n was practically U.A. royalty and he’d just got there. He couldn’t have already lost her. 

“I’m Mr. All Might sir, are we gonna start the lesson soon?” Uraraka asked with a bright smile. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he nodded. 

“Yes but where is young Aiz-“

“I’m right here!” The sound of running footsteps echoed don the dimly lit hall. As she stepped into the light the class stared in awe. She was red in a blue laced top with some velvet fabric under it. A blood red side skirt attached to her waist with different card sewn into it. A light blueish scarf fell around her waist.

Silver armor like curls went up her side, along with shoulder and a chocker with a key around her neck. Similarly cuffs were around her hands. Her eyes were shield by dark blue like glasses with a blood scarf like thing around her mouth. If you looked closely small hearts were laced into it. 

Her blue socks had small rabbits carved into them, they were torn in a few places. Bright red boots were covered in what looked like brunt up deck cards. 

Around her waist was a corset like belt with small charms hanging from it. Colorful mushrooms in small jars, a deck of playing cards, as tea saucers, a stopwatch, a small mirror and other random objects. 

She looked odd, some colors didn’t completely match. Black ribbons and lace held up her hair. Small braids were laced with royal blue roses. The roses looked like there were small music notes on them. So light in color they were barely visible. Blackened thorns curved around her boots. They seemed almost bloody, almost animalistic ready to strike. 

Gently embedded into her corset like belt were small crowns. They weren’t silver like the rest of her armor like pieces. But green and gold. On her hip going down her left like was a chain of cards. They were hand painted and the Ace card has a pair of golden twin girls on it. That card seems to be splattered with blood.

“Sorry didn’t mean to be late.” She answered softly. She s,okay walked over yo the ground as they followed her every step. Her costume was the most intricate. The details alone most have been difficult to do.

“You designs this yourself?” Tsyu asked with ribbit. 

With a knowing smile Y/n answered, “I had some help.”

This is her base, ignore any of the features that don’t correlate with you. Also ignore the yellow lighting. And the hair, I couldn’t find a better way to do it. But this was kind my thoughts.

[mayohigan-orange]

Yukari leaned back in her chair, the faint flicker of her parasol casting playful shadows over the porcelain teapot that sat untouched before her. She waved her fan lazily. Her golden eyes softened as they landed on her shikigami or rather Ran's Shigikami, the faintest hint of amusement curling at the edges of her lips.

"Chen, would you be a dear and fetch me two cups?" Yukari asked, her tone warm yet lazy, giving Chen room for refusal. "And do join me for tea as well, would you?" She settled into her seat with an air of patience, her gaze shifting to the window. "It’s not often we find ourselves with time to simply sit and enjoy the quiet."

"O-oh... you want to have a cup of tea..."

"W-with me?"

Chen did have the sneaking suspicion that she was only being invited for a cup of tea because Ran wasn't there at the moment, but in any case, she was still excited to have a cup of tea with her grandmother one of her mother figures!

So off she scampered, coming back quickly with two cups and saucers, balancing them expertly despite her haste, placing one of the cups gently in front of Yukari before settling herself down in the seat opposite her, before placing a bowl with sugar cubes on the table that she had hooked onto her tail. Chen knew that Yukari likely already had sugar set out, but sometimes tea was still a bit too bitter for the young shikigami to deal with. And she already had to deal with the temperature of it on her sensitive tongue.

"O-oh, wait, I should have asked if you wanted me to pour it for you before I sat down, shouldn't I...?" Chen bit her lip nervously, looking up at Yukari.

[nistarot]

im actually really happy w this lil bit of writing so im posting it here too ok bye

tw // graphic details of eye injury/loss, explicit emeto, abuse implied, victim blaming, gore, needles-mentioned, medical

It's after dark when Chris manages to peel himself off of the bathroom floor, sticky with sweat and drying blood. The back of his shirt protests its removal from the yellowed tiles on the floor with all the strength it has, but Chris' mechanical motions of musculature overpowers the fabric in the simple and rehearsed motion of slowly sitting up. An exhale leaves him as he accomplishes this, a heaving in his back of exertion well-made. The lightbulbs in the room burn in cold-tones, a faint hum of electricity merrying away in static order on the wiring. The dark is kept on the other side of the port-shaped window at the end of the room over Chris' shoulder. In front of him, then, is the door. The entrance, the exit. It goes out to the larger portion of the suite, a walk in closet, vanity room, hot-tub-having stylings of wealth, and the large bedroom and its balcony over the ocean. Not that the doors out to the balcony have ever been unlocked in Chris' entire tenure of being here. No, only the sunshine and thunderstorms get to be privvy to the oak boards comprising the floor, and they both knock with their own fiercenesses at the glass windows and doors that make up the birdcage of a room Chris is kept in.

As his vision steadies and rights itself, stops dipping at either side of his freshly shortened peripheral into a sharp darkness, into a tunnel, into a telescope's curve and dizzying specks politely excuse themselves from his field of view, Chris takes a slow inhale and begins the work of standing. It's disorienting, and a hand instinctively goes to cup gently the side of his face wet with tears, with blood and plasma. As if that would do anything to defend the torn skin now, a delayed defensive posture. 

It's not that he thought he was immune to harm, Chris reasons. It's not that he thought Jezebel was above this, he chastises. It's just that he thought he'd have better reflexes, when it came down to it. That he could trust his body to know the ways to hold his bones such that harm was minimized, the way to flex his tongue into a shape that produced a sound convincing enough to ward off the knife, the hands and all the wicked ways one body can clash into the next, the way two people can become a car crash as much as any vehicle.

Somehow, he's standing. Little miracles keep the devil on the back porch, Chris thinks bitterly. No word yet on what miracles are needed to get the devil out of the home he owns.

His free hand steadies his body by clutching desperately at the marble counter of the sink. Chris breathes in, and out, and in, when his vision starkly reduces down to a warm and fuzzy black for a brief moment before conscience rushes back in from his stomach and leaves his mouth a form of bile and foam that spills without grace into the porcelain bowl conveniently embedded in front of him. He hacks a few pathetic coughs, feeling his hand turn clammy with sweat and shake coldly against the counter, his eyelids trying to reactively screw shut with the automatic force, which in turn makes the right side of his face spasm in pain. 

When the sick is satisfied, and his throat feels coated only with the normal amount of saliva, Chris slowly, unsteadily, straightens his back out and chances a glance in the mirror now in front of him, looking up at himself through his lashes, a hand again covering his right eye, a dark purple and yellow bruise forming under the other, and freshly popped blood vessels pooling a light pink in the glistening wet of tears threatening to spill salt into any wound it can find. Chris' lip warbles, less in sorrow and more in unbridled disgust, and his hand abandons his face as he quickly turns the faucet on until ice cold water flows frantically down, and he washes the sides of the sink down with both hands until it's all clear and wet and slick again with the banal neutrality of tap water. Lifting his hands to his chest, Chris looks around weakly and then limply drops both hands into a towel hung from the wall, clumsily balling and unballing his fists to manipulate the fabric into a drying motion. As he does, the patheticness of his motions overcome him, and the tears win their battle with his eyelashes, carving out sizzling rivulets down both cheeks, charting paths through the blood stains and founding new colonies in the crease of his nostrils, the wrinkles of his frown and tickling along his jaw and chin in frustrating marches. 

Finally, Chris gets the courage to unmoor from the bathroom counter and open the door with all the dignity of a wet fish at market, leaning heavily on the doorknob before moving slowly out into the wider room. Through the larger space, the tiled floor and gilded molding of the small suite lounge or large walk-in closet, depending on how you looked at it. Whatever the room was, the hot tub in the corner was too gaudy for it regardless, and yet it persisted to be there as a fixture, almost as a testament even to the will of the owner; there not to do anything, there simply because it can be. Simply because you cannot stop it. Chris moves on and into the main bedroom. All plush carpet and heavy curtains, crisp white sheets and down-feather comforters. Cold to the touch, and cold just to look at. A crystalline electric chandelier adorns the center of an indented ceiling, casting warped light around the room in an array dizzying on merit alone, never mind when viewed through injury and gore. It's all Chris can do to avoid an unfortunate sick fit into the aggravatingly white carpet. It's the kind of room that feels desperate to tattle on you to any witnesses. Any mistake, any stain, any tear, painfully made obvious in the same way a martyr is singled out in religious reliefs. A massive dinner plate of divinity erected behind the source of holiness. 

Blood drips off of Chris' cheek alongside some of his tears, and burns an incriminating red drop into the carpet, and it's already too late. But why should he be so keen to hide his injury, Chris wonders, being as the benefactor of the home is the harbinger of the open wound? There's no decency in hiding the crop from the horse. He sighs and sways on his feet in a dangerous warning of lost steam to remain standing, and he makes the executive decision to all but collapse to the floor where he is, considering it far enough to at least not be considered languishing in his own blood. And then it's all dark and spinning light as he stares at the ceiling until he faints.

Chris wakes up slowly, and then all at once as he registers hands near his face, as he feels breath on his face, measured and steady, and he attempts to lunge upward into sitting but is fouled by it, immediately in pain, immediately too dizzy to commit, and instead only succeeds in a weak, slight thrashing in protest, which is easily quelled by cold hands resting insistently on his bicep, anchoring it still to the bed. Chris twists his head aside, and his movements calm, his muscles loosen. Not Jezebel.

It's the only other resident of this sprawling Hell of a mansion; a young girl, with frazzled hair and knobbly hands and lips bit to perpetually bloodied pieces. Light freckles spatter her face, which Chris hasn't had the chance to notice before. Her eyes are dark, and wide, like a deer evaluating a spotted threat. Chris thinks he hasn't realized how young she was, before. But now, in his own blood-loss induced fugue, it seems the largest revelation in the room. She couldn't be older than sixteen. 

Without a word, of assurance or otherwise, she sets back to Chris once he stops struggling, her hands deftly making work of a stinging sensation along his cheek- stitches, Chris realizes must be the case. No wonder she wanted him still; even then, he barely contains a shudder at the unwelcome intrusion of a vision of a needle entering his already-damaged eye, popping like a jelly-filled water balloon. He looks at the ceiling again, and realizes he's now on the bed in the grand room, the chandelier still weaving its fractured light, and the sun just coming up in the grayscale light of a bleary morning through the windows.

"Jackie," Chris says quietly, hoarse; more a statement to himself, of remembering her name, than having any plan to say anything after.

All the same, Jackie pauses in her motion, confirming Chris' memory of what she was called. He can feel her silently staring him down with all the care of a starved cat. Realizing she's waiting for his next words, for his statement, for his question, Chris finds his chest filling with the sludge of awkward anxiety, and it leaves his mouth in a slew of half-phrases. 

"Oh- no- no, I- I just meant, no, I don't- there's nothing. Nothing after that. Wanted to- couldn't remember your name."

She's quiet still, but soon resumes her even stitching, and Chris does his best to abide as best a patient he can play at. "It's Jackie." She says after a moment, curt and stilted. 

A half-sigh, half-laugh bubbles out of the corner of Chris' mouth like rabid foam from the snout of a wild fox, and he feels it churn seawater inside the cavity of his throat. The shock of laughing at all, realizing for some odd reason, only now, that he's lost an eye- that he'll never see fully again, that always the world is a half-filled thing to him, and here he is, laughing- laughing at the absurdity of awkward conversation with a stranger at the precipice of his newfound-loss. 

"No, yeah, I know- you're Jackie. I know." Chris hears his mouth say, a separate entity from the reeling of his gray matter into terror, held off only on the cusp of shock. "You're Jackie, I'm Chris, and we're both in Hell-" 

Chris' sentence is cut-off by an abrupt giggle that spills against his chest and pools like ice in his clavicle, moving through his throat like a blood clot, violent and unrelenting, turning from laugh to cough with the stumbling affection of a foal. It peters off into an almost-whimper, as he resists the urge to curl on his side into a ball, grasping his own shoulders in a bid to see if the human form could become a tortoise if it fought hard enough against biology.

Jackie says nothing in turn to him, and a quiet snipping of scissors, uncomfortably close to the minute hairs on Chris' chin, is all that fills the cavern of oxygen in the large room that suddenly feels only all too small for all the hands inside of it.

In the uncomfortable buzz of silence as Jackie switches to wiping blood from Chris' face, using alcohol pads to cut through the grime with efficiency, a new stinging not any more welcome to his senses, Chris feels his mind turn aimlessly over. In the fog of memory, Chris sees a lecture hall from his first semester; an English class he found endlessly boring, in the way the teacher could never seen to hear enough of his own voice, the way he read with such force you'd think he was the secret identity of an immortal Shakespeare come to torment first year university students with literary analysis. In thinking on the class, in the scraps of words written before any of the students were born, before any of their parents had teeth, and even before their grandparents knew about the devil in their left hands, Chris remembers the only exchange in a work examined that left any impression on him. Euripedes, translations done by Anne Carson, and the way she'd interpreted out a simple way of interaction: I'll take care of you, says one. And the response, which always felt humorous in its devastation to Chris;

"It's rotten work." Chris finds his tongue mumbling, as if made of cotton or half-asleep at the wheel of recitation. The words are pushed in a slurry out of the middle of his teeth, whistling like dying geese.

The hand pushing a damp, synthetic cloth into Chris' skin pauses at that. There's the unmistakable feeling in the air that Jackie is stunned at the words, either from recognition or bewilderment at what he's saying, depending on if she's even familiar with what he's quoting. She begins a word, which tumbles into a low and shaken hum, somewhere between uncertain and rattled with indignity. For the moment, Jackie seems to decide against response, only focusing on cleaning Chris' face, his held together skin, pressing gauze over his ruined eye and finishing her diligent work, too informed for her age on all the ways to ward infection out of the fenceposts of a body. She even turns out the huddled away tears caught those hours ago in the crevices of Chris' face, bidding them to dry up and prevent undue moisture gathering and rotting there. 

The silence is absolute and tersely held by both parties until at last, Jackie sits back on her ankles, hands folding delicately in her lap as she looks down at Chris' tended-to form with an apathy that strikes Chris as probably not dissimilar of the seasoned mortician sending a body down to the pits of the earth once more. A trained, somber expression, distantly assailed in grief. Chris looks at her with his remaining eye, and the sun rises behind her back in the way the dark was held at bay behind his own, only hours ago.

"Yeah." She says in a weak voice, her chin dropping down to her chest as though a string were cut from her puppeted body, too upset or too shy to see Chris directly in such a way. 

"Yeah, it is." 

[askwhatsforlunch]

Citrus and Praliné Kings' Crown

This year's Kings' Crown is a celebration of its Southern France origins, as it is filled and glazed with lemon and bergamot marmalades I brought back from Menton this Summer. And it could only be paired with best of pralinés, the Luxury version I made at Christmas. This Citrus and Praliné Kings' Crown is fit for Queens and Kings indeed! Happy Epiphany!

Ingredients (makes 1 brioche):

4 cups strong white flour

1/3 cup caster sugar

4 ½ teaspoons active dry yeast

2 teaspoons salt

1 lemon

4 large eggs

½ cup milk

1 cup unsalted butter, cut into small chunks

1 heaped tablespoon Confiture de Citron de Menton (Lemon Marmalade)

1 heaped tablespoon Confiture de Bergamote de Menton (Bergamot Marmalade)

2 tablespoons Luxury Praliné 

a fève*

1 egg, lightly beaten

½ tablespoon milk

1 teaspoon Confiture de Citron de Menton (Lemon Marmalade)

1 teaspoon Confiture de Bergamote de Menton (Bergamot Marmalade)

1 tablespoon water

1 tablespoon pearl sugar

The day before, combine strong white flour, caster sugar, yeast and salt (they shouldn’t touch at this stage) in the bowl of an electric stand mixer fitted with the hook attachment. Grate in the zest of the whole lemon. Turn on low speed until well-combined.

Turn on medium speed and add the eggs and milk, and mix 4 minutes until smooth and elastic. The dough will be quite sticky at this stage. Gradually add butter, a few chunks at a time until fully incorporated. When all the butter is incorporated, increase speed to high and mix, 4 to 6 minutes, until dough is soft, shiny and slaps the sides of the bowl.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead lightly to form a ball. Pop the dough ball in a lightly oiled large bowl and cover with cling film. Let rise at room temperature for an hour.

Again, turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead lightly. Shape into a ball, and return dough to the lightly oiled bowl. Cover with cling film, and prove once more a couple of hours or until the dough has tripled in size. Place the bowl in the refrigerator overnight. The dough will continue proving, which will give the brioche a light and airy texture.

In the morning, remove the bowl from the refrigerator, and allow the dough to come back to room temperature, for 1 hour.

Line a baking tray with baking paper. Set aside. 

Remove cling film and turn dough out on a lightly floured surface. Divide the dough into two equal portions. Roll two of the portions into large rectangles onto a lightly floured surface.

Spread Lemon and Bergamot marmaldes onto the first dough rectangle, leaving at least an inch on the outward edge, and roll it tightly like you would a Swiss roll, seal the seam, and gently roll into a long “sausage”. Set aside. Repeat with the second dough rectangle, and generously spreading Luxury Praliné onto it, before rolling it, too. Hide the fève* in one of the “sausages”!

Place both of them vertically on the work surface, pinching the end of both of them firmly together. Twist, and shape into a crown. Place on prepared baking tray. Leave to prove for 30 minutes to one hour in a warm, draught-free room.

Whisk the egg and milk together.

Preheat oven to 190°C/375°F. Once the brioche has risen, brush thoroughly with egg wash. Bake at 190°C/375°F  for 35 minutes, until a nice golden brown colour.

Meanwhile, combine Lemon and Bergamot marmalades with water in a small saucepan. Warm over a low flame until dissolved, well-blended and syrup-y. Set aside.

Remove Citrus and Praliné Kings’ Crown from the oven. Immediately and generously brush all over with lemon and bergamot syrup. Sprinkle liberally with pearl sugar. Transfer to serving plate and let cool for a bit before serving and finding out who’ll be crowned Queen or King! It pairs nicely with chilled Cider.

*A fève is a tiny porcelain figurine traditionally hidden in Epiphany Galette des Rois or Kings’ Brioche in France. Whoever finds it in their slice is Queen or King for the day. Before it was a figurine, a dried fava bean (”fève”, in French) used to be hidden, hence the name.

[bi-frog4girls]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You grabbed the bowl of sugar cubes you had made earlier, and set them on the tray. You also grabbed a small ceramic cup the color of the cup was black with gold details, if you could afford that cup you would buy it with no hesitation. But unfortunately you couldn't.

You took the tray off the counter and began to walk around the place corridor, stoping at a set of giant doors with roses engraved into the wood. *Knock* *knock* "come in." You opened the door with one hand before putting both hands back on the tray and walking into the room.

Walking into the room you spot prince Koji sitting on his bed looking upset. Prince Koji often wore black which matched his Black hair. He also had heterochromia so he had one black and one blue eye. You thought it was cool but not everyone thought like you, perhaps his heterochromia is why all of his lover's left and he has such a hard love life.

That would make sense because everyone here wants nothing but perfection, and they probably see heterochromia as something not perfect.

You set the tray down on the nightstand next to Princes bed. You carefully grabbed the teacup and handed to the prince who took it gently. "How many sugar cubes would you like master Koji?" "... four" you grabbed four sugar cubes and carefully plopped them into the tea trying not to splash the hot tea everywhere.

Koji takes a small sip of tea, Koji opens his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "I'll get it" you set the tray on the nightstand bowing to prince Koji before running to his chamber doors.

"Hello, master Koji is trying to rest right now, so how many I help you?" "Ah I see, when master Koji wakes up hand him this letter it's from his father." You gently take the envelope that was handed to you, "I will, thanks." You gave the man a small bow before shutting the door.

"A letter from your father master Koji." You hand Koji his letter before grabbing the tray and taking it back to the kitchen. Prince Koji didn't own a large place but it was still bigger than a village house. You put the sugar cubes back inside the pantry. Grabbing the rest of the dishes on the tray, you began to put them in the sink and wash them. 'I hope master Koji feels better soon, he's been down ever since his fiance cheated on him and left.'

*Crash* you jumped at the sound of porcelain hitting the ground, looking around you noticed that you didn't drop anything. Then it clicked you left the teacup with prince Koji. You walked quickly over to Koji's room, not being able to run because you were in your work gown.

"Prince Koji are you alright!?" You asked once you were in his bedroom. "I'm alright I just dropped... My cup." For some reason Koji looked very upset over a cup. You walked next to him and began to rub his back in a comforting manner with one of your hands.

"It's alright" after awhile of you rubbing his back you walked to the other side of the room and grabbed the broom and dustpan. You swept up all the bits of porcelain and dumped them into the trashcan.

"Prince Koji you should get some rest" you turned his light of before facing him again. "Goodnight Koji." You gave him a small smile before shutting the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrapped yourself in your coat making sure you had your money. You were heading to the market to buy a new tea set. The tea set that Koji broke was one of the only ones you had in the palace.

You opened the door and were met with the cool breeze of fall. Deciding to make the trip quick, you began to run in the direction of town not noticing someone watching you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Koji's always loved how your name rolls off his tongue, even since the first day he met you. When you were first introduced to him by his father, you were so shy and timid he loves seeing you grow out of your shell.

When Koji open the letter earlier he couldn't believe what he read 'dear Koji, if you are unable to keep and find a wife I will have no choice but to fire all your maids and servants. And sell the castle.

In a fit of rage Koji grabbed the teacup you had left for him and smashed it onto the ground. That's when you came into the room and began to comfort him, he felt so relaxed by your touch that he fell asleep.

He woke up to the front door slamming shut. Looking outside Koji got the wrong ideal he thought you were running from him.

Before he could even think properly he ran towards you and tackled you. "Gah!" you landed on the ground with a hard thud. Koji's mind spaced out he didn't even notice the words that left his lips. "If you ever try to run again, I'll break your fucking legs."

Word count 872

[offrozenmemoirs]

From within the darkness of the study, surrounded by volumes of esoteric texts, broken up by the most alien of artifacts and twisted keepsakes of past successes, the great work begins. Volumes are pored over and cross-referenced like second nature, a silent symphony of utter focus clouding the mind of the patriarch of a great house. Within infernal texts and necrotic enchantments alike, in the inpenetrable umbra of his craft, he could not be blamed for thinking himself the only person in the world, in those moments.

And yet, so easily is the illusion of solitude shattered. Bony wings cloak gently over the form of the tiefling, casting a familiar shadow over the faint candlelight that elucidates him upon some diabolical incantation. His workspace, cluttered with vials and volumes alike, finds itself disturbed by a new, unfamiliar intruder; a porcelain bowl, filled carefully and lovingly with fresh fruits from a nearby market. Grapes, dragonfruit, nectarines and persimmions all distract his gaze from the source of warmth that now grazes his cheek.

"Despite what the nature of your study may suggest," Corvus hums. "You, yourself, are still mortal, and very much alive, darling. Meaning, of course, you ought to make sure this... exemplary vessel of yours does not decay among the rest of this knowledge." His hand slips slowly onto his shoulder, barely caressing the satin of his cloak with a gentle pull, coaxing him away from the subject of his focus, and towards the plain, simple nothingness of the spare table.

"The spirits and the hells aren't going anywhere, my flame; my roaring fire."

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting! @ofthescatteredstars

Ariortos was the type who kept working, often neglecting his own needs for the sake of work. It was something that many people noticed, and while they said he was a hard worker, he wasn't very sociable or personable...It was rare that he found people that he talked to outside of work, and in his eyes, he only had one friend. Corvus was a constant companion, throughout both his childhood and throughout his time at GAAA. The man was one of the best duelists he had ever met, and had a tactical mind that made him a menace in games of strategy.

He had been in such a trance that he hadn't noticed the sound of his friend walking in. Only breaking when he noticed the bowl in front of him, and he looks to find Covrus standing at his side, a smile on his face.

"I did not hear you come in."

Were he capable of outwardly showing embarrassment, he might've averted his eyes. Instead, he adjusts his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Perhaps it was time to take a break. He grunts softly, as he stands up, using his cane to help him maintain his balance.

"I need to put on another pot of tea-"

"No need. It's already done, just the way you like it."

Corvus beams at him with the same smile, looking quite pleased with himself, and that's when he's noticed a fresh cup of ginger tea in front of him. He sits back down, staring at the bowl of fruit. He's had these strange feelings in his chest for years, only around Corvus, and it had been there since he had really gotten to know the other when they were teenagers. Sometimes he found himself leaning against the other when they were seated, and trusting him with things he would never have trusted anyone else with.

"Do you remember what you said to me, when you left for your training as the new Lord of Ravens?"

Corvus nods, resting a hand on one of his gloved ones.

"Of course. You asked me why I had not married, and I told you it was because I was devoted to you. That I would see your goals done, and that was all I needed to be happy."

Ariortos doesn't understand the feelings he has towards Corvus, and now he's older, and they've grown more confusing. He had never shown interest, nor felt any interest in others...And yet his friend had been the one who had remained by his side. Consoling him when the reality of his actions of becoming head of House Zarin had came crashing down. He was someone who needed to do whatever it took to see his goals realized, because he needed to prove to himself that he didn't need Vadu's blessing to succeed.

"I...am not quite sure of my own feelings...but I am aware that I am fond of you. Not entirely platonically, but I do not understand romance...Would you still have me?"

He hears a soft gasp from Corvus, before feeling hands on his cheeks, and being made to look up at the other.

"I would have you in any life, any time, anywhere."

For once, he's at a loss for words. And instead places a hand over one of Corvus' and sighs. Leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. Perhaps, if only for a moment, he can enjoy being treated softly like this.

[asvincere]

Izuku and Katsuki bake a cake for All Might’s birthday

On this warm June morning, the sun’s golden rays had barely awoken out of the clouds. Today was the tenth, All Might’s birthday. Izuku doesn’t usually make a big fuss about celebrations but this was different. He wanted to show his gratitude and thank All Might for everything he’s done. For one for all, or training him, and for getting him into UA. 

As he walks out his room, he takes out his notebook. This wasn’t just some ordinary notebook filled with hero notes and doodles. It had all of his mom’s secret recipes. From his beloved katsudon to mouthwatering apple pie. But out of all the delicacies to choose from, Izuku is going to bake a cake for All Might. This would be the first time Izuki ever bakes something but he’s ready for the challenge 

Once Izuku enters the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator. The cool air greets Izuku’s freckled face as he collects the eggs and butter. Next, he gently grasps the faucet so a thin stream of crystalline water spills out of the tap. Just enough to fill one cup. Then, he pulls out a whisk from the drawer next to him. It clatters against the bowl, creating wet tufts of sand colored batter. After fusing the three ingredients together, he adds the sugar and flour. Now, all he needs to do is pour the batter into a baking tray and pop it into the oven. Once that’s done, he takes a bit of a breather. Izuku pulls out his phone and spends a bit of time scrolling away. The sun has only just started to come out of the clouds so Izuku expected to have the entire place to himself but a certain someone is already up and about. Izuku’s ears were alert as he heard Katsuki thump down the stairs. 

As he entered the kitchen, Katsuki huffed, “nerd, why are you up so early?”

“Good morning to you too Kacchan. It’s All Might’s birthday so I’m baking him a cake.” 

“Is that why it smells like something’s on fire?”

Izuku just noticed the foul ash smell coming from the kitchen. He was so distracted that he forgot all about the cake. He quickly scrambled to the kitchen. Upon opening the oven, the gust of heat was enough to remind him to wear baking mitts. He fetched the cake out of the oven and laid it out on the countertop. The once velvety cake batter now crumbled up like charcoal. The pungent smell of smoke spurred into the boys’ nostrils. 

“That’s it Izuku. You can’t be in the kitchen alone. I’m gonna have to bake with you, before you blow this place up.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to burden yourself with that Kacchan. It was just my first time baking. I know I’ll do it better with the next batch.” 

“Shut it. Don’t question me. I said I'm making sure you don’t mess this place up.”

“O-Okay Kacchan.”

Because of Katsuki’s previous experience with baking, the two of them made a cake from scratch. Katsuki mixed and matched ingredients. He collected porcelain bowls of sugar and flour and butter, melding it all together with eggs, creating a malleable clay like liquid. 

Izuku’s eyes trained Katsuki’s hands. The way he firmly grasped the ingredients, knowing exactly what to do. He swiftly whisked the batter, yet handled it with care. There was an aura of gentleness and authority around him as he made sure the cake was made to perfection. By now, Katsuki had already put the batter into the oven. Izuku just realized he hadn’t done anything. All he did was stare at Katsuki. He frantically paces to the fridge to grab the ingredients for frosting but Katsuki already caught him ogling. 

“Finally finished gawking at me nerd? Maybe now you can finally lend a hand.”

For the rest of the morning, Izuku made sure to keep his head down and avoid all eye contact with Katsuki.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Full Moon (Thorn x Reader) Smut

Summary: It’s already hard enough to keep his hands off his partner in usual circumstances. Now that they’re carrying his child, it’s impossible for Thorn to keep himself in check.

AN: I saw King Knight at Fright Fest and this was instantly born. Thorn deserves a partner who wants to give him a child as much as Willow deserves a partner who respects her decision not to have one. 

Content warning: Reader uses they/them pronouns and is AFAB. They are three months pregnant. It’s barely smut, just a mild description of oral, but still MINORS DNI! Over 18+ only! If your age is not in your bio, you will be blocked.

Masterlist // Photo Credit // AO3 Link

Your name: submit What is this?

“It’s late. We should get to bed.”

Thorn had been edging towards the bedroom all evening, only stopping once Y/N reminded him that there was something else to do before retiring for the evening. Meditation before dinner, packing the leftovers and slotting them into the fridge, speaking to Alexandra about the upcoming Samhain celebrations, he seemed to have forgotten their entire calendar in favour of the sky.

This time, it was Y/N’s head tilting to the sink that caught him in the doorway, as they reminded him: “Still have to wash up. You know I hate leaving dirty dishes overnight.”

It took Thorn a second to process, then he briskly walked back to the kitchen. In his current mood, which was to prevent Y/N from doing more than their fair share, he took on both washing and drying up. The tiny bump in their belly would hardly be in the way, but Thorn still insisted that they rest at every possible moment.

The sun long since set. It was the moon that shone down and bounced reflections off the porcelain dishes slotted in their draining board spaces. Thorn’s rings dripped suds as he scrubbed vigorously at the bowl used for the salad. Hiding their mirth, Y/N moved behind him and allowed their bump to press up against Thorn’s shirt. They caressed up his left arm then onto his shoulder where it met with the other hand and squeezed.

“You’re so tense, my sweet. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, darling.” Thorn stopped his ferocious scouring briefly to kiss their cheek. His words did nothing to convince Y/N, but they didn’t require anything of the sort. Instead, they began preparations for their sleep. As if they would be getting much anytime soon.

As though he had been waiting for them to finish dressing, Thorn rushed to open the bedsheets. A stray soap bubble on his arm popped into nonexistence as he ripped off his odd socks – one was onyx, the other charcoal. Then he saw the look of expectation from Y/N and instantly he jumped up to put his socks in the laundry hamper.

As he got back in, Y/N gently prompted, “My love, the incense.”

Thorn’s eyes flickered down to their stomach, “Right.”

His trembling hands were so frantic he almost waved out the glowing embers as soon as they were lit. Y/N joined their life partner, allowing the smoke to waft over their rumpled bedspread. It was a new kind; their usual had made Y/N feel nauseated from the pregnancy’s get-go.

Back under the covers, Thorn pulled Y/N close to him and took in a deep draft of their scent. Y/N knew this and held back a smirk. They cupped his face, and he kissed their palm. His fingers curled like the incense delicately around their wrist, his lips dragging down to kiss against their pulse. He would have painted more along their entire arm and neck if he was not so impatient. The moment he could, he shared with them a deep long kiss. His palm twisted over their belly.

They were so close when they pulled apart that their lips brushed promises of future love onto one another. Through words, actions, everything they could purse and pucker for their beloved, and Y/N stroked under Thorn’s jaw while he spoke to them.

“If I could, I would veneer your body every minute of the day. I’d forsake all other gods to laud your name.”

His words were sweet yet Y/N acted alarmed at his words, gasping loudly as they gave his cheek a short sharp slap. “That’s sacrilege, Thorn!”

Thorn swallowed, and his untouched cheek matched the other in pink passion. “How can it be? You’re a deity. Every day I worship at your altar and I give up all worldly possessions in your name. Every thought is a prayer for you; I am always praising your abilities or thanking Moirai – Greek Goddess of Fate - for sending me to serve you.”

He leant in again but Y/N avoided his lips, their head tilting back with a smirk. His nose bumped their chin before their nose returned a nuzzling.

They cheekily reminded him: “Serve with me. We’re a team.” Their hands found each other again and locked fingers.

“We are,” and Thorn sighed in complete lovestruck awe, “But I will always submit to your will.”

In those gloriously kind eyes, Y/N saw them reflecting the Moonlight, as She - the full moon - reflected the Sun’s to Earth. Sharing the adoration that spread life and warmth throughout the galaxy but this love was just for Y/N. They would bask in it as long as they liked.

“Then get on your knees and you can prove it, Thorn.”

The covers were flung aside carelessly, for they have no purpose in comparison to a man submitting to his life partner. Thorn did as he was told, though he was quick to grow impatient from his kneeling spot at the foot of the bed. These traditions, he would follow them resolutely, if not slightly needy; he had been told to kneel, not yet to touch. Meanwhile, Y/N moved at their leisure towards him. They had an entire night to be worshipped and watching Thorn fidget, like a dog being asked to stay when a treat was balanced on his snout, was a good start. Those eyes were still bright with full moon delight. They watched as Y/N carefully removed their underwear, leaving the bed only to drop the pair with Thorn’s discarded socks.

“You’re so good sometimes,” Y/N reminded Thorn and the corners of their mouth ticked up. They perched on the bed’s left corner. As Thorn leant into their fingers, they fisted at his hair and dragged that hand around to his cheek. Unable to resist, they tenderly slapped it again. His beard was rough against their fingers, and the groan Thorn let out sweetened the deal.

Spreading their legs, Y/N leant back on their hands and their hips tauntingly raised before Thorn’s panting mouth. “You may begin your worship.”

He lunged and snatched their thighs with his warm rings stinging their stretch marks. Two long moans of relief sang out. Their harmonies vibrated where the two lovers connected, lips to lips. The tufts of hair pulling matched the scratch of a beard. The belly, the creation of their love, was not yet round enough to hide their life partner from view as he looked up at them hungrily, blinking slowly. He devoured. They let him.

And all this in just the first three seconds.