#i think i was having a bad day at the time but drawing them is nice

[vivwritesfics]

The Devil Dances With A Smile

Chapter Two

He can't kill you. He can't bring himself to lay a hand on you. So, he falls for you instead (its a shame his employer really wants you dead)

Hitman!Max x reader

Chapter One

The teachers lounge was rarely a good place to nap. Somebody was always yapping about something. On any day but today, that would have been Max. Yapping at Charles, who would yap back. 

Today, though, he was far too tired to yap. He laid his head down on the table, his energy drink forgotten in front of him. The teachers lounge was the only place he could enjoy his much needed energy drinks, especially if he didn't want the kids to see. 

"You look like shit," Charles muttered as he joined him, sipping his coffee. 

Max looked up only to glare. He quickly laid his head back onto the table and shut his eyes. 

"Jim and Sass keep you up again?" 

Oh, that was right. Back when he and Charles first started their jobs, Jimmy and Sassy were his excuse for everything. It was better that way, though. If Charles knew what he was really doing, he'd never look at him the same way. 

"Just let me sleep, Charlie," Max mumbled through a yawn. 

Leaning back, Charles sipped his coffee, but he said nothing more. He kept his eye fixed on Max, just watching him. When the bell went, he woke Max up. Snapped his fingers in front of his face to make him just a little more alert and sent him in the direction of his classroom. 

Mac moved through the day like a zombie. He barely got through it, his only aid being the red bull he kept hidden in his thermos. 

The thing about Max was that he hated coffee. Last night had been a charade; he hid every grimace behind what he hoped was a charming smile. When you topped him up for a second cup, he guessed that it worked. 

Still, he wouldn't be ordering another from you. But he would be going back. Research, he told himself. To find out why somebody would want you killed. Were you really that bad a person? So bad that somebody was willing to pay a lot of money to see you dead at his hands? He just couldn't see it. 

The school day came and went as it always did. Max stayed behind and tidied his classrooms. Put the text books back on the shelves and picked up paper left behind by the students. 

A drawing. He knew immediately which student had done it. A talented artist who had spent the lesson drawing him and Mr Leclerc from history locking lips. 

Chuckling to himself, Max shoved the drawing into his drawer. He grabbed his bag, the Red Bull disguised in his coffee thermos, and headed out. 

Max had never dreaded going to his second job before, not since his first day. But tonight? Tonight was different. 

For the first time ever, he hadn't completed the job. 

He moved slowly as he got himself showered and changed, making dinner for himself and feeding the cats. Jimmy and Sassy fussed around his legs, and Max took his time to give them attention, putting off the inevitable. 

Christian was gonna have his ass. 

Tying his shoelaces took longer than normal, but that was because he was stopping every few seconds to give his cats kisses. “I love you both,” he assured them, running his hand along Jimmy's back and up his tail. “If daddy doesn't make it home, uncle Charles is gonna take care of you, okay?” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and headed out the door. 

Never before had Max wished for traffic. Never before had he wished for his commute to his second job to take longer than the usual twenty minutes. 

But it felt all too soon that he pulled into his parking space. He sat there for several minutes, making sure he had everything that he needed. Keys, wallet, phone. All already in his pocket. Convenient. 

He forced his brain to think up the worst that Christian could say and do as he walked towards his office. Shoot him dead was the worst he could do, tell him he's fired was the worst he could say. 

Max sucked in a breath. He pushed down the handle and opened the door, letting himself into the office. If he was a weaker man, his legs would have been buckling as he approached the desk. 

"Your target is still alive."

Max nodded as he sucked in a breath. "I know," he said. "But she's tricky," he finished. 

Christian blinked at him. "She's a waitress," he replied. "Can't you shoot her dead when she's behind the counter?" 

A sigh left his lips. "Just trust me, Christian, it's not that simple. She's got colleagues and customers, people  that care about her. I can't just kill her there; I've got to gain her trust first." 

Christian levelled him with a look. Unimpressed, but accepting. "Fine. Just get it done," he said and sent Max on his way. 

He couldn't keep putting it off, he thought as he drove towards the café. He immediately spotted you, clearing the tables by the window. He watched you pause and look out across the lamp lit street. 

Climbing out of the car, Max started towards the café. His mouth was dry as the bell above the door rang, signalling his arrival. 

You looked up as the bell rang, a smile splitting across your face. "Well hey, stranger," you said, your grin widening. Any more and your face would have hurt. 

"Nice to see you again," Max said as he slipped into the nearest seat. 

You leaned against the table. It wasn't like you were trying to flirt, trying so hard to appeal to him. But it was working. Your pretty eyes, your pretty smile. He could have stayed here all day staring at you. 

You took his order, just a coffee. But you threw in a pastry for him, a treat, on the house. 

For the first hour, Max sat there. As much as he wanted to talk to you, you were too busy working him to give him the attention that he wanted. But you met his eye, gave him a warm smile as you cleaned the rest  of the cafe. 

Finally, you leaned against the table once again, your palm flat as you angled your body towards him. "So, what? Are you stalking me or something?" 

For a moment, Max panicked. But then you laughed and his entire body relaxed. "It's not every night you meet a pretty girl in a dingy café," he replied and your cheeks heated up. The little 'no offense' he added at the end was so endearing, you couldn't help but slip into the seat. 

Max was easy to talk to, but you knew that from the day before. He showed you pictures of his cats, telling you all about them until you got called into the kitchen to run food. 

As soon as table 43 had their food, you returned to Max's table. "I still don't get what you're doing here," you said to him, not bothering to sit down this time. You only had five minutes left on the clock. "You're a teacher, a local one. You don't get the train anywhere, so why are you here?" 

His face was bright red and he pushed his hair back, swallowing. "The first time, I was just looking for something to drink. I came in today because I wanted to see you," he confessed, scratching at the back of his neck. 

You checked your watch. "Let me clock out, and then you can walk me to the bus stop again." 

Before you could walk away, before you could get changed and walk back towards him, Max grabbed your arm. Your immediate instincts had you quickly pulling out of his grip and taking two steps back. 

Max dropped his hand. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call out your behaviour. Instead, he fished his car keys from his jacket pocket. “Or I could drive you home, if you like.”

He didn’t drive you home that night. But he did walk you to the bus stop again. You stood closer to him than you would to any of your other customers. “I want to take you out at some point,” he said, staring down at you. The bus was pulling up, he only had a few seconds. “On a date.”

You didn’t gasp, you weren’t surprised. But your cheeks still heated up. “Tomorrow,” you said and smoothed down his jacket. “We’ll arrange it tomorrow.”

Max watched as you stepped onto the bus and paid for your ticket. He watched as you sat somewhere near the back. 

As soon as the bus pulled away, Max headed back towards the car. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, swiping his thumb across the screen to answer it. “Soon, Christian,” he said, before Christian had the chance to say anything to him. “She’ll be dead soon.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he climbed into the car. 

Christian paused for a moment. An anxiety inducing moment. ‘Lando is gonna take on the job’, that was what he was ready for him to say. “Our employer wants her dead within the next two weeks. Get on with it.”

The call ended and Max dropped his phone onto the centre console. A sigh left his lips and he began to drive, heading in the direction of the bus. There weren’t many occasions that called for Max to tail a bus, and it wasn’t all that easy. Every time the bus stopped at a stop, he parked where he could until the bus moved on. 

But then you got off of the bus and began your walk. As you got off of the bus, Max parked his car and climbed out. He followed you, ducking behind bins and bushes. You didn’t turn around, had no idea you were being followed. 

You weren’t expecting any sort of danger. Maybe it made you naive. You had no idea of the danger you were in. Max kept following you until you made it to your apartment complex. The sun was rising, the streets no longer dark. 

You were in so much danger, so much fucking danger. Max swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t let anything happen to you, he knew that much.

a/n: part two! it actually feels so good to be working on a series again. for those that don't know, i'm currently working on a lestappen werewolf series (that i hope to have posted in the next week) so keep an eye out for that!

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[wemlygust]

I think a lot of the problem people run into with both hard sciences and math isn't that your brains just somehow aren't "wired for it", but rather that they're subjects that build iteratively on top of the previous things you have learned, and classes often don't emphasize revisiting or reviewing older subjects. They especially don't seem to ever revisit basics, like reviewing long division or multiplication tables or whatever after highschool, or suchlike. Therefore, if you miss something for any reason (you were sick for a few days, you were just really distracted by some kid drama at the time, you briefly decided to be a rebel and not care about school for a month, whatever), it's really, REALLY easy to fall off the tracks. You miss a key piece of info A that's critical to understanding the next piece of info B, and then because you don't understand B you also won't understand C, and you definitely won't understand D that requires an understanding of C and B together. And then you get a bad grade on an extremely confusing test and you feel awful, which makes it harder to concentrate, and so on and on. This means it's super important to ask questions if you find yourself starting to get confused. But, inconveniently, certain asshats loooove to immediately shame anyone and everyone for getting any math question wrong ever, and people shame themselves for getting questions wrong because Society^tm can make a math test feel like it's some kind of high-pressure IQ test, and then your teacher asks you to solve a question on the board in front of your peers, and you accidentally swap two numbers, and all your friends and/or enemies make fun of you, and now you don't want to ask questions, and meanwhile the class keeps moving on while you're just left in the dust feeling awful and stupid, and maybe you just give up and focus on drawing in the back of the classroom instead.

Honestly, a lot of the math teachers I remember from early math classes just reinforced this idea that some people are "bad at math" and some people "have a head for it", and then didn't make all that great of an effort to help the people who were falling behind, and maybe even made jokes about it. A counterproductive or maybe even just an inept teacher in these circumstances is like throwing a match at an oil slick. All this makes people build a wall up about the subject because now math makes them feel bad (which makes sense when this kind of thing has happened) and also they probably think they are fundamentally "bad at math" and blame themselves rather than the circumstances, and probably everyone around them reinforces the idea that this is a fundamental aspect of your personality and not a thing that you could, in fact, still learn if you want. But you can still learn if you want. You've just gotta keep track of the steps, and do your best to make sure to understand each before trying to understand the next, and don't let people shame you out of asking questions when you're confused. Tl;dr: If you want to learn math, or hard science, or anything really, and you used to get bad grades or be confused by it and think you were bad at it, it's fairly likely that it wasn't because of anything fundamental about you, and YOU CAN DO IT. Even if there IS something fundamental about you that makes it harder than it might be for someone else, or if you're just starting from a disadvantage because of lack of experience vs your peers; once you have motivation to learn it anyway, you'll be able to work for it and do it anyway; it just might take a little more time than for something that comes more intuitively. Anyway, you got this 👍👍👍

one day you’re going haha wouldnt it be funny if i did a complete 180 on my career path for the bit and then a year later you’re enrolled in a college anatomy class despite not having taken a science class in 6 years and you fear you may in fact be girlbossing too close to the sun

[nastybuckybarnes]

Home

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost needs to get back to work.

Warnings: Minor Angst, Fluff, language?

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: I have no idea what to call this one it's also just a little thing to get us ready for a big thing and then a bigger thing i hope you enjoy! sorry i haven't been super active - i had no wifi at my new place until today and im also still kinda in the process of moving in LOL

~*~

The energy is different when Ghost returns to his quarters at the end of the day. He has a new tension in his shoulders that not even the hot water of the shower can wash away.

It isn't until he joins you in bed that you find out why.

"M'gonna be gone tomorrow."

Those four words have you sitting upright in bed, a frown on your lips.

"Where?"

One of his hands comes up to caress your collarbone, then slides up to cup the side of your neck.

"To the city. We're gettin' closer."

You're not sure what he's getting closer to, but that's the least of your concerns right now.

"I will be alone?"

He shakes his head, "Johnny will be here. He'll take you to lunch 'n whatnot. But this is... how it's gonna be for a bit movin' forward. I won't be able to be around as much."

Your frown deepens.

You don't want to be away from him. Not for any longer than you have to. Especially now that you're on base.

You're not oblivious to the looks you've been getting from the other men here. More than once have you caught the unwanted wandering eye of someone. But every time without fail, your Ghost is able to scare them off. One sharp look toward them and a dark promise in his eye, and the offenders are looking away.

What are you going to do when he's gone?

Your mind flutters to the Corporals who tried to have their way with you, back when you first met Ghost. You've seen each of them around base, but never together and never quite like you did that night.

You'd like to keep it that way.

You can't help but pick at your fingers as you start to think of every bad thing that could possibly happen with him leaving.

"Hey, none of that. Look at me."

You obey, lifting your eyes to his in the dim light.

"Everything'll be okay. Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you. I trust him with my life, you can too. 'N'm sure the men here know by now not to even think about you the wrong way. If not, m'happy to make an example outta them if I need to."

His free arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you to lie back down on the bed with him, snuggling you close to his body.

"A few more weeks, Mouse. Then I'll bring you home with me. You can forget everything and we'll start a new life together. How's that sound?"

How does that sound?

That sounds like everything you never thought you'd get. Everything you never thought you'd be allowed in life.

"Good." Is all you end up saying.

~*~

'Good' is also the one word you wouldn't use to describe how things are the days Ghost is gone.

The first day is the worst.

Obeying your Ghost's wishes, you accompany Soap to get lunch, sitting in silence as the piercing eyes of the other soldiers drag along your back.

And on the walk back, whispers erupt and more eyes are following you.

Soap -Johnny- isn't as effective at getting them back in their place. Sure, they keep a wide berth, but their eyes don't skitter to the ground the way they do when Simon's mean glare lands on them.

Maybe, you find yourself thinking, it's because Soap isn't all that different from the men around you.

Maybe he's thinking the very same things they are.

Ghost's words ring out in your ears that night as you lie awake.

'Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you. I trust him with my life, you can too.'

Settling a bit, you decide that maybe you can trust Soap.

The other men, though? They don't get that luxury.

From that moment on, you vow not to leave his quarters again unless directly accompanied by Ghost.

The entire time he's gone, he can't help the odd feeling in his chest.

He's not looking in windows for your drawings or in shadows for your eyes. No, instead he's looking for more hostiles, more targets, more things standing between him and his Mouse. The future between the two of you.

The more people he kills, the faster they advance, the more ground they cover, the closer they are to success.

Success means taking you home. To his home, making it your home, too.

And his teammates aren't oblivious to the new fire beneath him.

He's always been good. A key asset to the team and arguably one of the best at what he does.

But this? This is like nothing they've ever seen before.

More than once, however, have they caught him looking at a piece of paper.

During the lulls, the safer moments when no one is shooting at them, a small piece of paper is in his hands and his eyes are tracing and re-tracing the drawings on it.

And when he gets back to base the following day, he feels excited.

His palms tingle and his stomach twists, and he feels a sense of relief when Soap greets him with a smile.

"How's she been?" He wastes no time on pleasantries, immediately making a b-line to his quarters.

"Haven't seen her much. She's been sayin' she's 'not hungry' since yesterday. She hasn't left since."

Simon's brows pull together as they come to a slow outside of his door.

He gives Soap a nod, watching as the man turns and leaves, then slowly pushes the door open.

"Mouse? You feelin' ok-"

He's cut off by you throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his frame and tugging him forward with such strength that he actually loses his footing for a moment.

His arm instinctively wraps around you as he stumbles, pulling you closer to his body.

He steadies himself then brings his other arm around your waist, hugging you tightly.

Your fingers slide up beneath the back of his balaclava to card through his sweaty hair as you nuzzle your nose into his chest.

He tugs the balaclava off then pulls your head back, dropping his lips to meet yours after far too long.

You sigh softly, melting into the kiss.

"You okay, Mouse?" He asks after a moment, pulling back to look at you closely.

Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him with dreamy eyes, nodding.

"Johnny tells me you haven' left the room. Why?"

His hands slide up until he's cupping your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You close your eyes and hum softly, sliding your hands under the front of his sweater as you seek out his skin.

"The men... they... they do not trust. They stare... they... they say things... I do not like it. Not without you. They do not look when you are here."

He feels a tinge of anger bubble in his stomach, but he can't really blame them.

Does he understand where they're coming from? Yes. Absolutely. He wouldn't feel comfortable having them on the field with him if they blindly trusted you.

That being said, him trusting you should be enough.

The unspoken claim he has over you should be enough for them to not ask questions. It should be more than enough for them to keep their mouths shut when they see you.

"You just gotta... be around them more. They'll grow to trust you the more they see you."

You huff out a sigh and lean forward to kiss his lips softly once more.

"Don't want to without you."

He smiles against your mouth and slowly walks you back toward the bed, turning at the last minute and falling backward onto it, pulling you with him.

You land on top of him with a soft gasp, giggling wildly when he rolls over and peppers kisses over your face.

"M'gonna go shower, 'n then we're gonna go get dinner, 'n then... m'gonna bring you back here and you can have me all to yourself. How's that sound?"

You nod eagerly, smiling breathlessly when he rises to his feet and heads toward the bathroom.

The rest of the night is easy now that your Ghost is back.

Your meal is a lot more peaceful than the one you shared with Soap, with fewer eyes burning into your back.

And the time after is far better than when you're alone as well.

Soon enough, he's got you in bed, body exhausted and thrumming with the gentle aftershocks of your orgasms.

"I'll be leavin' again tomorrow. Want you to go with Johnny, just be around the men. It'll do ya good. N'then, soon enough, ya won't be doin' anythin' without me. I'll take you home 'n make you my pretty little housewife. Can have a garden or draw or cook, whatever makes you happy."

The words are whispered against the back of your neck.

While his lips brush your skin, his hand flexes against your stomach, pressing firmly against your lower abdomen where the carnal idea of a future with you is making his cock stir.

Your fingers trace over the back of his hand as your lids grow heavy.

"Where is home?" You ask quietly.

His warm chest is pressed against your back, the steady thrum of his heart better than any lullaby.

"Home is wherever you want it to be. S'long as m'with you, we'll make it home."

[leighsartworks216]

Red String of Fate

Sylus x gn!Reader

Spent like an hour talking to my roommate in the middle of posting this. Not proofread (even tho I really should) Takes place in the Raven universe

Warnings: red string of fate, birthday, past trauma, past character death, fluff, kissing, crying, presents

Word Count: 3,082

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“You ask-”

“No, you-”

You snap your fingers. The loud click shuts up the twins in an instant and draws them from the shadows of the doorway into the room. They look decidedly anxious, midway between shoving each other forward. You raise a brow at them.

They look at each other. With a shared nod, they stand side by side in front of you. “When’s your birthday?” they both ask at once.

… Really? All that fuss just to ask when you were born? You give them an unimpressed stare. Interrupting your alone time was really worth this?

“It’s just that we-”

“Were wondering since Boss’s birthday is in April-”

“And if yours is before-”

“Or after-”

“His then we can start preparing right now!”

You tap your finger against the armrest. Your persistent silence unnerves them, even after you’ve been here for almost a year at this point. It’s nice, especially now that they’ve had time to adjust to it. It took a lot of confidence to ask you such a stupid question, after all. Too bad you don’t have any interest in answering.

You turn back to your book, signaling the end of the conversation. The twins look at each other, shrug, and leave. Once they’re safely past the open doorway and down the hall, you set your book down.

A birthday growing up sounded like some magical, wondrous event. Candy, games, cake, presents. How many nights had you dreamed of them? How many times had you seen a group of kids in cone hats in the park, parents trying to round them all up so they could blow out candles and dig into the carefully decorated cakes, with cursive writing on top wishing the special one a happy birthday?

The best you managed to scrounge up was when you were maybe 10 years old, give or take a few years. A new soup kitchen opened up. You lined up on the block with the other homeless, starving people of the city. The promise of hot food was always worth the pitying glances and disgusted glares.

When it was your turn in line, after waiting all morning until your legs were just about ready to give out, the person working there had dug through a crinkled brown paper bag to give you a squished brownie wrapped in cling film. That night, an older man you’d known well, had you blow out his lighter to make a wish. You’d split the brownie with him.

When he died less than a week later, something in you died with him. You hadn’t had a brownie since, or much else in the way of sweets, for that matter. As soon as the Devil picked you up into his business, they were off the table completely. The only real thing that improved was how frequent your meals were, without the anxiety of never eating again. But not the quantity; you had to stay thin for the stage.

You don’t even remember what day that soup kitchen opened. Well, there’s no reason to look into it now. Enough bad memories have been dredged up today.

Your phone buzzes with a message.

The twins are asking me when your birthday is. I assume they already tried asking you?

They left just a few minutes ago.

There’s no response for a minute, as if he knows he’s stepping on a thin line between things you do talk about and things you’ll never talk about.

Do you want to celebrate it?

You have to take a moment to think, to consider what he’s offering here.

You have no idea when your birthday is, and he probably gleaned as much. That’s not what he’s asking, though. If you could stare at a calendar, at every single day of the year all perfectly laid out, when would you pick to celebrate your life? It wouldn’t be a celebration of your birth, but it could be so much more. You’re not even sure what adults do for their birthdays, so separated from the concept that you stopped paying attention entirely. But you could choose to do anything - everything.

Your thumb hovers uncertainly over the digital keyboard, before finally typing out a message.

I think I would.

Just say when, sweetheart.

-

The second the twins are told your “birthday” is just a month away, on the day you agreed to work alongside Sylus, it’s all they seem to care about. Huddling together to excitedly whisper about it during missions, probing questions into what you like (mostly to Sylus, but sometimes they get so excited they ask you before realizing you won’t answer), hiding packages delivered to the mansion, and so on.

Sylus is much better about containing his excitement, if he is excited at all to celebrate your special day. He asks first if there’s anything special you’d like to do - dinner, shopping, traveling - you name it and he’s on it. When you admit that you have no idea what people do on their birthdays, he’s all too happy to list out things, without judgement. If he’s honest, he doesn’t do much to celebrate his own birthday either.

You think about the parties you watched as a kid. Piece by piece, you break it down into things you think you’d like.

First and foremost, you wouldn’t mind a cake or some other dessert. Sylus is right on it, suggesting that you both visit a cake shop to figure out what your preferences are before the twins go overboard with a flavor you don’t like. The owners think you’re planning for your wedding. Neither of you correct them.

Second, the games. Whether it’s Kitty Cards or Texas Hold ‘Em, you think it would be fun to play a game or two with Sylus and the twins. Gambling may or may not be involved.

Third, you remember one kid in your youth who was all dressed up in a suit by his parents, all to visit some cheap arcade. You would like to dress up. Sylus chuckles at this one, not because he thinks it’s silly, but because he’s always prepared to have a custom wardrobe built for you. He promises to have a tailor discuss your ideas with you.

As far as birthdays go, it’s nothing crazy outlandish like some of the things Sylus told you people do. At the end of the day, all you really want is to dress up, go to dinner with him (alone), come back to play games with the twins, and have cake. You don’t want the world in the palm of your hands, because you don’t need it. You’ve never wanted it.

Once your desires are laid out, Luke and Kieran calm down a bit. They’re no longer trying to plan this whole big bash, but scheming up ways to win the games against you and Boss, the notorious cheaters that they are. (They’ll never win, but they’re not going down without a fight.)

Mephisto spends the entire time leading up to the day gathering trinkets and withholding them from you. Usually, if he sees something shiny, he brings it straight to you for wordless praise and chin scratches. You know right away what he’s up to. You pretend not to notice for his sake.

Your outfit is ready in less than a week, the cake is baked with all the flavors you enjoyed at the shop, and you couldn’t be happier.

Sylus can’t tear his eyes off of you when you finally reveal your custom attire. Throughout the night, he can’t stop telling you how amazing you look, encouraging you to have more outfits made for future events. The restaurant he chose has a balcony that you two sit on, staring out over a stretch of beach. The ocean breeze carries the bite of salt, refreshing you for the rest of the night ahead.

You tell Luke and Kieran you’ll be home before midnight, but you drag Sylus out to the beach and get sidetracked. He can’t stop smiling as he holds your shoes and watches you run out into the shallow waves. The moon shines on the soft waves behind you, bathing you in an ethereal glow. By the time you do get back to the mansion, your hair is windswept and you have sand everywhere, but you don’t mind at all.

The games are so fun. Luke says you’re cheating by sitting in Sylus’s lap during Kitty Cards, but you gesture for him to sit on Kieran’s lap while he plays. Sylus doesn’t assist you in the game at all; Kieran points out moves and subtly switches the cards in Luke’s hand for the ones hidden up his sleeve. They don’t win a single game.

The cake is beautiful, decorated to perfection and topped with a few candles. You stare at the cursive on top for a moment. When they sing you the song (even Sylus), he notices the distance in your eyes. He kisses the top of your head when the song is over to snap you out of it. You don’t actually make a wish when you blow out the little, flickering flames. There’s nothing you want, and lingering too long trying to figure a wish out only draws the memories of the old man closer to the forefront of your mind.

You cut the first slice. Sylus cuts the rest. He’s not big on sweet things, but he finishes his thin slice anyway. You savor every bite. It’s paradise in your mouth. He has to cut off the twins from having any more, lest they make themselves sick.

Each of them has a present for you. Well, Mephisto has several. He flies to and fro for a while, bringing you little trinkets and shiny things that all pile up on the table. You take the time to look at and admire each one, even sorting them into different groups based on what they are. You wind up with a humorous amount of bottle caps.

Luke gets you a new pair of handguns. Kieran gets you a harness with holsters to hold them in on missions. Sylus gives you a photo album, full of photos from the year you’ve spent together. You sit pressed into his side on the couch and flip through it, page by page. You can see yourself relaxing with each picture. Just a few days after you start working with Sylus, you offer the camera a mischievous smile that doesn’t reflect in your eyes. In the last photo, from a few days ago, you look like a different person; you smile without fear, your guard is let down. The person you were at the gala a year ago has finally found someone to trust.

As the night comes to a close, the twins wish you happy birthday once more before heading off to bed. The mess is left for someone else to deal with. Your presents sit on the table and wait to be put away as Sylus leads you up to what’s become your shared bedroom.

You’re positively glowing. It’s all Sylus can think as you both lay perpendicular over the blankets. Your head rests on his stomach, his fingers trail slowly through your hair, and in just a few hours, the sun will be rising. Yet here you are, too happy to sleep just yet. You want to bask in this feeling a little longer.

You understand now why Luke and Kieran were so enthusiastic, why all those kids from your childhood couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another year for their next birthday, why adults continue to celebrate. You can’t remember the last time you felt a joy like this. It feels all bubbly in your chest, almost surreal, as memories of things that happened just hours ago draw out dopey smiles and lingering giggles. Sylus’s eyes are impossibly soft as he takes you in.

You’re still in the outfit you wore to dinner. He’s still in his suit, sans his jacket. Two pairs of shoes are kicked off carelessly beside the bed. Nothing else matters except right here, right now, soaking in the final vestiges of the night.

He brushes his thumb along your cheek, drawing your eyes to look up at him, that sweet grin still dancing on your face. His fingertips trail featherlight along your jaw, tracing your chin and brushing at your lips. You reach up to hold his hand in place as you kiss his fingers, eyes closing in bliss as you leave pecks down each one, only to leave a lingering kiss to his palm. You look back up at him. He smiles.

“I have one last gift for you,” he says quietly, as if speaking any louder would shatter every window and mirror throughout the entire mansion.

You tilt your head, curiosity drawing your brows together in a silent question. Your smile stays the same. He shifts, helping you sit up so you’re side by side, just facing opposite directions. You watch as his Evol reaches out to the nightstand drawer, pulling out a box and placing it in his awaiting hand. He offers it to you with purpose.

It’s simple, but beautiful nonetheless. Carefully carved wood, rich in color, with a domed lid and rounded edges. It’s about the length of your palm, and no wider than three fingers. A red silk ribbon in a bow ties it together, preventing the hinged lid from being opened. You glance back up at him. He nods toward it.

The silk slips softly through your fingers as you tug on one end of the bow. The knot falls apart, and the ribbon slides onto your lap. You lift the lid and-

You look up at Sylus, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He smiles broadly at your reaction. You look back at the present, emotion bubbling up in your chest once more. It feels even more powerful than earlier. Your eyes burn, but you fight back the tears.

Two rings perch side by side within the velvet-lined box. Red jewels decorate golden bands, shimmering in the dim lighting of his bedroom. A matching set. This is far more than just a pair of earrings or cufflinks, this is…

The first tear falls. You hold the box to your chest as you lean toward Sylus. He meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His broad chest shields you from the rest of the world, hiding the emotions you only allow him to see. Which is wonderful, because you feel so silly, crying over a present like this. He’s given you so much in your time together. Anything you could ever dream of and more - always more. Always trying to make sure you’re happy and comfortable. This is like him giving you the world. You can’t ask for anything greater than that.

“Read the engraving,” he whispers, gently pulling the box from your chest. He holds it while your shaky fingers, usually so steady and sure, pull the smaller ring from the cushion. It takes a minute to see, having to wipe your eyes several times to get rid of the steady flow of tears.

You are my new destiny.

You cover your mouth with your free hand, muffling the sounds that try to escape. It’s usually so easy to be quiet, even under the worst torture. It seems impossible to shut up now.

Sylus pulls your hand away from your mouth, abandoning the box on the bed next to you, and cupping your cheek to wipe away the tears. He kisses your forehead. “May I put it on you?”

You nod immediately. He takes the ring from your trembling fingers and holds your left hand. You watch, entranced, as he slips it onto your pinky. It fits perfectly. The red jewel glimmers, mirror Sylus’s eyes when you look up at him. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss over the ring.

You giggle, a soft and wet sound. You can feel his smile against your fingers. You’ve never felt so light before.

You turn to the box, using your free hand to carefully take out the larger ring. The band is a bit wider than yours, but the design holding the jewel in place is almost identical. You don’t need to ask or even gesture for him to give you his left hand; he offers it right away, still holding your left hand as he does. You slip the golden ring onto his pinky. Overcome with rapturous emotion, you hold his hand in both of yours and bring it to your lips, kissing the ring just as he had as a quiet, happy sob breeches your lips.

He wraps his arm around you, drawing you to rest against him, your joined hands resting over his erratic heart. His head is ducked down to rest against yours, kisses pressing over the crown of your head. His heart aches in the best way to be granted the opportunity to see you like this.

Your fingers play affectionately with his, thumbing over his ring and massaging his palm. When he returns the favor, brushing over your ring or gathering both of your hands in his just to hold them, you let out airy little laughs that burrow their way into his heart, where they will stay for the rest of time.

You use your right hand to finally wipe the last of your tears away, unwilling to let go of the bond that ties you together. You pull back just enough to look up at his face with a big, beaming grin. He leans his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other.

“I love you,” you whisper. It comes out crackly and hoarse, but it sounds like music to his ears.

“I love you, too,” he whispers back. “In every lifetime, I will find you. For the rest of eternity. Always.”

You tilt your chin up to capture his lips. It starts slow, a mere vessel for the vow he made, a seal that forces this change in fate he is creating. It doesn’t take long for it to grow hungry and desperate for each other. Not long at all until he’s cradling your neck, cold metal pressing against your skin, as he lowers you back into the bed, leaning his body over yours and supporting himself so all his weight isn’t crushing you.

“Happy birthday,” he breathes into your mouth, “my beloved.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[petite-madame]

I just found again your account. I first saw your art when I was a teenager. And its been a while. Your art has felt like coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows.

It feels like coming back home to fandoms i used to adore. And look at it fondly, in a nostalgic lense. You've worked very hard and honed your skill. I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people. Heck even just sparked a glint in their eye whilst being on the internet.

Tu est merveilleuse. Tu as tellement contribué pour les fandoms. Merci énormément ♡

Hi anon ^^

First, I apologize it took me so long to answer. Messages kept piling up and it took me time to reach yours. 😳

This is one of the kindest messages I ever received. Not that other messages are not kind or sincere, or that I don't enjoy receiving or reading them but...you see what I mean ? 😳 Comparing my art and the feeling it brings you to "coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows." is so...so poetic ? And strong ? And it talks to me, you see ? The nostalgia, the feels. 😭

It's really funny because I received a message from another anon who told me they hadn't "seen (my) art for years but it randomly came across (their) dash and (they) recognized the style right away" and I compared the experience to finding out that an old restaurant you used to go to as a kid was still open. That's me, I'm the restaurant, this little coffee shop that still tries to bring you good pastries. 🥳Sometimes, the menu changes a bit but it's still the same recipe and the same owner, who starts to get a bit old, but who is still enthusiastic about the new cakes available in his tiny shop.

I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people.

I've always drawn, I think I will carry on as much as I can. And even if I draw for me (almost like a compulsion, a need), it's messages like yours that makes me carry on sharing my art on the internet because even if I have a "successful coffee shop", sometimes, I can't help thinking about some drawings I do "Nah, nobody's going to care about this one". 🤓 I forget about it but then, sometimes a few weeks later, I post the art and I receive messages from people telling me I made their day, that they were having a bad time but that my art cheered them up. It's incredible, right ? Someone is having a bad day in Milwaukee or Jakarta and me, and my stupid little "bakeries" helped them smile (*) for a couple of minutes. I think it's fantastic. So even if as an artist I love to share what I do, sometimes when I think that "nobody cares", I think about some random people and the possible positive outcome that my art can produce.

(*) Sometimes, I make people cry too because of death art and pretty angsty illustrations but that's another story. You're welcome, by the way 🤓

Of course, my artworks are not masterpieces, I'm not starting a pictural revolution, it's just TV show and movie characters doing "random stuff" but if these artworks that will be forgotten in 10 minutes will make someone smile just a couple of seconds at some point in time then, it was worth it. I guess. I hope so. (And sometimes, it's more than a couple of seconds because some people put my art as their desktop wallpaper or phone background. How awesome is that ? 🤩🥳)

Anyway, I'm rambling. 🙃🙃🙃 Thank you so much for this amazing message and for enjoying my art all these years. (Because I write, I write but I didn't even thank you!!)

I wish you a great weekend and I hope that you'll stop by my coffee shop again. 💗

[altocat]

all 50 of those Honest fave character prompts for Sephiroth

( @izunias-meme-hole )

........*cracks knuckles* OKAY.

1. Do you project onto this character?

All the time, every day. Like Sephiroth, I can often be avoidant, depressed, and overly attached to my loved ones. The struggle is real lmao

2. Did you always like this character?

Before falling into fandom hell, I didn't really notice him much other than Kingdom Hearts stuff. Or the occasional thirst post online.

3. What first drew you to this character?

Crisis Core making him a sad soft baby that everyone is mean to lmao

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

No. I always thought he had a cool design and a badass voice.

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

Of course! Sephiroth is a fascinating character regardless. His backstory is very unique and I don't think that would change.

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

I mostly just call him Seph. Sometimes Kittyroth. Sometimes "Mr. Compassion" whenever I'm being sarcastic about him. And sometimes just SMUGFUCK because that's what he is.

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

Nah. Like I said, he's a fascinating character regardless.

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

I feel like there are certain aspects of his character that you NEED to keep in--his catlike pupils, silver hair, etc. They are plot-related indicators of his heritage and genetics. Thirstposts aside, they are reminder that he is a lab-grown monster with alien blood running through his veins.

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Not really. Seph is pretty unique. And honestly I'd rather not know someone like him irl lolol

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

Physically? Hell no. Emotionally? Sometimes. But that's on rare occasions where we can actually tell what he's thinking and feeling.

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Watching Crisis Core cutscenes one rainy night in 2021.

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

AU Redemption arc trilogy in which Zack and Aerith save Sephiroth from himself and he dismantles Shinra to become the planet's hero.

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

I'd really like to illustrate a lot of fic scenes. Especially the trippier Jenova-focused ones.

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

...Yeah lmao But I don't ship myself or my self-insert with him because NO lolol I think he's aesthetically pleasing but I don't associate myself with him in any romantic sense. That's just weird to me.

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

Non-sexual. I'm more interested in his character progression/fall into villainy. Like yeah he's attractive and there are some seductive aspects of his personality. But he's just more interesting to dissect as a villain.

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

Several times lolol usually after First Soldier updates.

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

Miiiight have happened once in dms with other fans (thanks @heraldofcrow)

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

SUFFER. SUFFERRRRRRR 😈NO COMFORT FOR YOU ALL IS PAIN AND ANGUISH.

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

Oh totally. All the time. Imagine cute aggression but it's more angsty lol Angst aggression.

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

For Sane!Sephiroth, yes. Very much so. Not so much after Nibelheim. Then he's just an evil little shit who needs to get clowned by Cloud again.

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

Platonic-familial. He's my precious baby boy. Who I have to hurt. LET ME HURT HIM.

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

I hope so! Assuming Square doesn't do something stupid.

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

I'm HERE. lmao There's your evidence.

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

I never have dreams about him and it makes me SO MAD SZDFGHFDSA EVERYONE ELSE GETS BLORBO DREAMS EXCEPT FOR ME.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

I mostly like character studies. Or slow-burn AU fics with him. I'm currently reading The Fear of Falling Stars and it's sooooo good.

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

It really depends on the fic tbh.

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

I SHIP HIM WITH EVERYONE *feral noises*

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

Only in select instances. I don't like the dudebro logic of "well Sephiroth was always arrogant/evil even before Nibelheim and he can't be vulnerable or sensitive because that's not badass" because those are fundamentally not true. And an extreme disservice to his writing.

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

He makes me sad. His story is heartbreaking.

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

Nope. Not at all.

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

Pumpkin soup, of course!

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

Oh not at all. I have said many many times and will keep saying that Sephiroth does not deserve a happy ending after everything he's done. He deserves to be destroyed for good. He's NOT a good guy, not any more at least. He's caused so much damage in so many horrible ways. There's no going back from that. I love the guy and I feel for him. But that's still no excuse for what he did.

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

Uhhhh no.

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

@ me whenever First Soldier updates.

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

Idk. Probably not. He's my angsty trauma son. But I wouldn't go THAT far lol

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

Nope. I will literally never shut up about Sephiroth to family or friends lololol

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

NO because Sephiroth is a villain and the goal is to not become like him lolol

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

Nope. He just makes me casually distraught.

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

Very much so. Like I said before, his story is heartbreaking. I've ugly cried about him so many times in the past.

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

Other than background OCs, no. I prefer mostly just his relationship with canon characters.

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

It'd be cool to do something creepy with his relationship with Jenova...

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

Rainy days. Because he's depressing.

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

Fall.

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

At this point, I'd really like to hope so. They have certainly added a lot of new stuff that feels on point with my previous ideas for him. But I'm open to new stuff too!

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

It really depends on how they characterize him as a person before Nibelheim. I don't really like how people sometimes equate his evil/smug/arrogant post-Nibelheim personality with his CC-era one. They're really completely different.

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

He made some the FUNNIEST goddamn faces in Rebirth, just sayin'.

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

R trilogy has the best overall design. Hair, eyes, and the sheer SIZE of him. All perfect.

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

Sane!Seph: His love for his friends

Insane!Seph: Him being a huge petty dick just for the sake of it

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

UHHHHHHHHHHH I'm just going to cheat and say THIS ENTIRE COMMUNITY because Seph-fans are BEST fans and we get along and get shit done. Best content. Best fandom space. No in-fighting or drama on his character. We're ALL peak 😎

[stanskissing]

Not doing this anonymous cause I'm not a coward jkjk

Dipper who gets so jealous of Stan and Ford hanging out again after the reconciliation that he starts fuming anytime he sees his Grunkles together. Little does he know that his Grunkles are doing this specifically to get a rise out of him only for him to end up in an Eiffel Tower with the both of them.

And now I run away🏃🏻‍♀️

i liek ur user it macthes me (fiddlefords controverisally ououng gf) ggffhfhfhg beautiful ask. i wanna romance you

dipper is so stupid he's such a moody little tween he's so annotying. he gets so jealous bes so stupid . a part of it comes from how similar dip and ford are and dippers like, why doesnt stan like my science junk. why does stan like fords science junk. i want stan to like My science junk More. and with ford he's so jealous of how ford and stan joke around with eachoteher so easily and dipper gets So awkward and So weird around him he tries to be smooth and silly like stan and falls flat on his face everytime. he shakse his fist at the sky and curses the day he was born with anxiety

don;t even fget him started when he notices their little flirty banter or when he walks in a room and they're sitting oddly close together and their hair is oddly messed up and stan's collar is oddly unbuttoned and ford's undershirt is oddly untucked n sticking out of his sweater and dipper get So fucking turned on when he catches the little moments like that but he is also So terribly conflicted because for a while he's like well. icant have. both of them. but i Want both ofthem. and then one day he just gives in and accepts defeat and stops trying to make himself pick and he just accepts that he wants to be crushed inbetween them. and that was a Bad Idea. because now he can't be in a room alone with either of them without his face turning bright red and he leaves a puddle of sweat in his trail and he has to cover his lap with a pillow. it 20x worse when he's alone with both of them

the stans obvi pick up on this super quick, not only bc theyre geniuses but because dipper is fucking stupid and is obvious about his gayass crush on them. its amusing, and because theyre devious old men they milk the fuck out of it. they get more obvious with their relationship anf dipper has walked in on them kissing Multiple times and theyd just pull away and be like Oh hi dipper. acting like nothing happened. and dipper's like i . wh. hh.huh.h hello. and theyre like yeah whats wrong whats up. and dipper scurries away (definitely not because hr has a raging hard on) and the twins think its so fucking cute and they';re like Yeah we wanna fuck that twelve year old.

wheneer dipper finally speaks up and is like guys.please. whydo you torture me so. they just laugh about it and sit dipper down and they;re on either side of him and then stans hand his on his knee and then its on his . his thigh and fords hand on his slides down his backkoh oh , suddenly he's Really hot and his clothes are so stuffy and oOh ford's handon hischin and heheskissing diiiperper and ohhgodstans lipsare on his neck and dippers losing his mind and hes moaning and fords cupping his dick through his shorts and his brain turns fuzzy and then they all fuck sloppy style and dip gets spit roasted

anuways heres my dipper fanart do u guys fw my ms paint drawings

[toxintouch]

Cooking headcannons for touchstarved Li’s when? 👀

Apparently now, anon! Some Cooking/Baking/General Meal Time headcanons. Sorry as always that I am so late, lol. I got distracted by Halloween/October things. ✦✦✦✦✦

Vere: ✦ Canonically, he’s bad at it. But W H Y?? ✦ When I thought about why Vere might be a bad cook I decided he is likely the kind to get distracted, try to make everything at once, get bored with the instructions, etc. It's not the kind of food he craves, so cooking is very low-stakes to him. ✦ I’m trying to decide if I think his sense of taste is remarkably different from a human. Since his nose is impeccable, he SHOULD be able to determine if something is going to be good or not… ✦ Perhaps the real issue standing in his way is: Human food does not satiate him.

✦ Though he does have human foods he likes to eat. He's a texture person.  Loves a delicate texture, easy to slice through with his fangs.  Something supple. ✦ When he gets the cooking urge, he cooks a ton of food at once. Absolutely no intention of eating most of it. ✦ MC: “Who is going to eat this?”   Vere: “I’ve been fairly blatant about my interest in doing so, but you are willfully obtuse.” ✦ If you'll allow me to quote myself:

"Vere cooks how others might enjoy a leisurely stroll. 

Which is to say: he seems to be having fun, but you’re not convinced he intends on really going anywhere." The journey is often the destination. ✦ You ask him to cook or bake with you?: (If he likes you:) "I suppose. If you think you have the stamina." If he doesn't like you it's still a yes but you're the meal. ✦ If you're helping him cook, BE CAREFUL WITH THE KNIFE!  If you nick yourself and draw blood...you might get more than you bargained for...

Leander: ✦ The fandom has spoken. This man can't cook. He's just...too innovative.~ He could follow a recipe. He won't...but he could. ✦ You ask him to cook or bake with you?: He actually sounds awkward for a moment. “Ooohh, uh... you want to cook together?”  But he bounces back quickly.  “Of course we can do that! Sounds like fun. I’m sure our favorite barkeep won’t mind, we can use the kitchen here!”  (She minds.  She looks in on the two of you frequently to make sure you’re not going to burn the Wick down.) ✦ If you know your way around the kitchen already, he's happy to take a backseat. :) He measures out ingredients and has them all neatly ready for you. ✦ If you make him take the lead: Is that sweat sliding down the back of his neck? And his face is awfully red. "Ah, actually, I just thought of a better idea." How about the two of you rely on the expertise of your favorite cooks/bakers from around town for this one? Really immerse yourselves for a day (er, a few hours), learn from a professional. Who would you like to teach you? He can pull some strings and make it happen! :) :) :) ✦ ~Magical meal prep.~ He slices and dices with spell work. Like it's a party trick and not a potentially grisly weapon. Don't think too hard on the other potential applications of that spell, okay? :) ✦ Everything can be improved with cheese! (AKA: He puts cheese on top of everything.) ✦ He's unlikely to share this part of himself of his own accord, but... Naturally, he still knows all of his high society dining etiquette.  He can tell you all about place settings and the correct formal silverware order and how to tell which fork is the dessert fork, etc. Hopefully you'll never be put in a situation where that's knowledge that you need. He really doesn't want to subject you to that kind of person, if he can help it. Those people are closer to the Senobium and most would do anything for a favor. Best to stick to places where it's more safe. Right here next to him is free. ✦ He has a brilliant mind for what wines go with what foods. One of the few drink recommendations you can trust him on. "Of course, these are all just suggestions. What matters is that you're drinking what you like, right?" (<- He's trying to sell you on his new mixolology concoction. Do not trust.) ✦ Could hold a formal tea for you but you will really have to wheedle it out of him. And he'll only say yes if you agree that it stays between the two of you. "You have to pinky promise." ;) and it only counts if it's bare skin. ✦ That said, he's at his most comfortable when he's in some little hole-in-the-wall, enjoying great local food that someone else made. ✦ Extremely interested in any dishes you enjoy that are local to your home/culturally significant to you. Will hunt someone down who can make them for you if you're feeling homesick. (Or will find the ingredients if you prefer to make it yourself.) He's a good guy like that. :)

Kuras: ✦ He tries to make the recipe but he just makes things worse. Like many things in his long life. ✦ He's worse than Vere. A lot worse. 'Possibly the worst cook in the entire city' type worse. ✦ Cooking is just so outside of his realm of existence. ✦ It doesn't help that Everything tastes like p u r e n o t h i n g to him. It's not just that he doesn't need to eat, the very sensation of taste is beyond him. ✦ But he occasionally likes to try to make food for his friends and loved ones. He understands that food sharing is an important human social behavior and he'd like to participate how he can and show that he values his bonds with the people he chooses. ✦ He is uniquely awful at it though. Time has made very little improvement. ✦ Ever since that Valentine's Day cake, baking is his ✨passion.✨ Mhin had a good reaction, so he's decided not to give; he made such an obvious breakthrough with that one. ✦ You ask him to cook or bake with you?: He accepts immediately. He's overjoyed. "I'm sure this will be an enlightening experience. I confess myself as rather lacking when it comes to this activity so please consider me your humble student. Anything you wish to teach me would be appreciated." ✦ Of course, the two of you will have to work around the clinic's schedule. (You ought to realize quickly that he does not have a good gauge of time when it comes to meals. Take the initiative or starve tbh.) ✦ He is very attentive to everything you say.  His earnest face while listening to you is unbearably adorable.  Frequently tilts his head like a cat. ✦ He hangs off your every word and even asks questions.  Though, some of the questions you don’t quite know how to answer.  (“When you chew, do you instinctively know how many times is appropriate, or must you count?”  “....I…what?”) ✦ You think that particular question might be a joke... Hard to say. ✦ Even when you are running the show and watching him to make sure he does everything right…every time something somehow ends up going wrong. ✦ Pro tip: don't let him put anything into the oven or determine the cooking/baking times. Otherwise, things will get...strange. ✦ You are the test subject–I mean: taste tester.  Kuras insists that your opinion is of the utmost importance.  Are you brave enough?  If not, are you tough enough to politely decline when his eyes are sparkling softly with affection and excitement like that??

Think of it this way:

If you get sick (which you will) you’re already at the doctor’s!  ✨Convenient!✨ ✦ Comfortable silence in the kitchen when they two of you are working together. <3 ...As soon as you accept that nothing will be edible. Actually, maybe you should stop this. This is probably more food waste than a post-apocalyptic world can afford.

Ais: ✦ Of course he knows how. ✦ Well.  Maybe not him specifically. But give him a moment, he’s pretty sure he’s got the equivalent of a Michelin 3 Star chef (or two, but who’s counting?) “in here somewhere.”  (He taps on his temple.) ✦ He doesn't have an interest in human food. "You want recommendations try asking Pretty Boy." ✦ He does like to experiment with making treats for his Soulless.  He’s bought them snacks from the market on occasion, but he likes the feeling of taking care of them and providing for them contributing with his own hands.  Plus, he can make them treats that are a lot less grain heavy.  They prefer meat.

✦ (Most aren't stupid enough to try and poison the treats he buys, but he did kill someone for trying once. Not that the shit they put inside was strong enough. He ate the stupid biscuit right in front of them just to prove a point. Last thing they ever saw.) ✦ If the Sea Spring has a kitchen…look, he hasn't been in there in a while. There might be mold.  There is almost certainly mold. ✦ Luckily, Kuras has a kitchen!  And he doesn’t seem to use it, so it’s basically free real estate.  If Ais is ever in need of somewhere to cook or bake, he’ll be using Kuras’ space. ✦ He can do meat preparation really well (he’s an absolute butcher with anything sharp) and smoke meat really well but spending an overabundance of his time preparing meals (meals that aren't even the preferred sustenance of Monsters like him) feels like a poor use of his life. He's got shit to do. ✦ You ask him to cook or bake with you?: "Huh... Nah. Don't think I will..." <- neutral bastard “Or what?” <- He feels like riling you up a little extra today. ✦ (You're more likely to get that experience if you catch him doing it of his own accord and join in/keeping him company in the clinic while he works.)

Mhin: ✦ Diametrically opposed to Leander (and Vere), they will follow the recipe exactly whenever possible. ✦ The only one you can trust to make something edible without fail. ✦ Mhin is an alchemist.  Cooking and baking are both easy for them.  None of these components are even going to explode or create poisonous gas if mixed.  The worst thing that will happen is that they’ll eat a meal they aren’t completely satisfied with.  (And honestly, what else is new these days?) ✦ They are impressively quick and precise in the kitchen!  They can cut things so fast! Can also cut fruit into animal shapes for reasons that they will not explain. ✦ When they cook, they are making meals to feed themself.  It’s a necessity that they are performing to keep themself able to tolerate their strenuous life. At the same time, it relaxes them to an extent–it grounds them, it’s something concrete to focus on that isn’t … –but it’s a necessity first and foremost. ✦ Mhin’s cooking has a tendency to be b l a n d.  They are filled with too much self-loathing to season more interested in the nutritional value of the meal than its flavor.  Plus, spices are costly and they aren’t about to spend any of their hard earned money on the luxury of taste. ✦ Mhin’s baking is significantly more inspired than their cooking.  If they have the good fortune and the wherewithal to bake themself a little treat, they have a good intuition for (delicate, sweet) flavors.  They never get the opportunity, but.  The ability is there. ✦ In another life (an easier life) baking could have been a hobby. ✦ You ask them to cook or bake with you?: "..." Mhin isn’t the type to teach someone, but… If you're any good, you could be a useful second pair of hands. If you're hopeless...they should really leave you to your own devices, but… someone needs to tell you to stop holding a knife like that. It's annoying to look at. It will just take them a few seconds to correct you. And then you're on your own! (They still stay. They were using Kuras' kitchen first.) ✦ Will scold you for holding the knife wrong.  Tries to explain the correct way–which is to say, the safest way–to handle it but...  They’re not used to having to verbalize their thoughts/instructions to people, since they are always alone. ✦ So they'll finally just settle in behind you and show you how to position your hands and cut away from yourself. ✦ Backs off ASAP because being able to feel your body heat and being so close to you flusters them.  (Not to mention whatever is happening with your hands.) They go off into their own little corner to meal prep extra because they want to be prepared–definitely not so that they can look away from you and focus on something else for a while. ✦ Mhin can tell you about the chemical reaction that makes bread rise.  Mhin can tell you why and how each ingredient is important, which ones you can skip and substitute if supplies in this post Fogfall world are running low.  Mhin can tell you that you are not doing that right, what are you doing?  Stop.  That is way too much vanilla extract. ✦ If you ever reach their maximum affection level: Their face looks like it is absolutely on fire when they offer to share their favorite dessert this dessert they’ve really been craving with you.  They’ll even teach you how to make it, and you two could make it together if you'd like...

[cherryfennec]

Summer Times

Hi! I'm finally back from my two week abroad trip!

[artilite]

some sopping wet napkins <333

[bluestsdays]

even though tonight wasn’t exactly how she always imagined it, she’s thankful to be ending it with him, at least, to have him here with her for as long as she’s able. she would claw at whatever scraps of him she could get, once he’s gone; his shirts, his books, all the old pictures and texts stored on her phone. this night, too, how it felt to be so close to him again, his lips skating against her hand, his fingers drawing shapes against the small of her back, offering her comfort. sure, it would all turn into an endless daydream tomorrow, a mere memory, but it was real, tonight. manages to smile up at him softly as he extends his hands to her, intertwining her fingers with his own before pulling herself up with ease, trying to ignore how her stomach churns with anticipation— not sure what for, but she’s felt it building all night, every time they came into contact, even just meeting his gaze across the room. it could’ve been all the memories of their life together surrounding them, sure, but that couldn’t be the only reason. there’s something here, still, between them, she thinks. on her side, at least, considering how many times tonight she’s wanted to lean in and kiss him, to close that insufferable gap, regardless of who’s around. but she hasn’t, no, she’s refrained, just as he has too, no matter how tempting. she nods at him, then, before turning away for only a second to grab the flowers he brought her upon his arrival, to bring them back home so she could paint them before they wilt away. tucks them beneath her arm as her other links with his, to begin their short walk back to her apartment. this was, after all, the building they walked by every day, hoping, wishing, dreaming, speaking this very moment into existence with one another. he really had been with her, every step of the way. all she can think about now, though, walking in step with him once again was his previous words— i wish i could be so much better for you. doesn’t know how that could be possible, thinking about the lengths he went to to get here, in the first place, how far he came just for one night, just for her. just the thought has her hand skimming down the length of his arm, carefully bringing his hand into her own, stealing a glance at him just to make sure it was okay for her to do. it’s not long before they’ve made it to what was once their apartment building, but now was just her own, pausing just outside her door. doesn't even get her keys out, right away; she didn’t want to say goodbye, not yet— god, she never wanted to say goodbye to him again. it’s inevitable, of course, but maybe that’s why she finds herself moving closer to him, now, squeezing his hand in her own, hoping to disguise how it shakes, being this close to him. “ it is true, you know, even if you don’t want to hear it, ” she whispers, gently extricating his hand from hers just to cradle his jaw, thumb skating softly against the bone. “ i’ll never know anyone better than you, miller. ” god, she wants to kiss him so badly, to show him just how much she appreciated him, how much all of this meant to her. tongue wets her lips in anticipation, before she stops herself, trying to maintain what little self-control she had left. but she didn’t want to cross any boundaries first, do anything that might ruin this, deciding to leave it up to him. “ do you want to come inside ? ” it’s spoken breathlessly, barely above a whisper as she looks at him, gaze traveling over his features, once again settling on his lips as she swallows thickly, a glint of something different in her eyes, now. “ or is that a really bad idea ? ”

can feel where her gaze refocuses, where it lingers as they talk, and he knows the meaning behind it, if only because it's the exact same thought that's raced through his own head— how badly he wishes he could kiss her, how much he's wanted to, all night long. the feeling was different, earlier in the night, intended to show her how proud of her he is, of all she's achieved, how lucky he feels to be able to bask in it alongside her, even this small amount. but, it's morphed as the night's progressed, as the feeling overhead has changed, caused the streaks of tears to stain her cheeks, like a kiss could take her pain away, soothe it. it's a line they shouldn't cross, however, one he knows they can't, considering the circumstances; the history between them, where they both are now, in their lives, the complication it would only bring. so, he makes the active decision to ignore where her gaze trails, tip of his tongue wetting at his lips, unthinking, as he diverts his own gaze momentarily. the sound of her laughter draws him back in, just as it always does, heart swelling at the cadence of it, at the thought that he could still draw such a sound from her, especially in a moment like this. a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth because of it, a warmth that's not entirely unfamiliar, a spark of light in the gloom of the evening. keeping his shirts. it's a small thing, maybe, but it's something— a reminder of the thread that still connects them, despite the years and miles that have stretched between them. " i'll let it go this time, " he chuckles lowly, nudging her gently with his shoulder. " only because you can probably give them a much better home, and somehow always managed to look better in them than i ever could. " plus, if that was a comfort he could still provide, then who was he to take that away from her? it had benefited him once, too, coming home to her, to the sight of her draped in a shirt of his, pigments of colour splashed against the fabric. only to wear it the next day, carrying a small piece of her around with him, in the time they spent apart. he bites back any lingering questions, and curiosity to whether they still hold the same purpose to her now, if fletcher's aware of them, of where they came from. he nods at her question, that yes, he came here for her, that he'd travel further, if he had to— he wanted to be here, to see her, celebrate her. no matter if they ended up here, on a bench as they are now. it's what she says next, however, about not being able to have him for long, the question that follows, that has his head dropping; in guilt, perhaps, shame. doesn't have a reply, because she's right, and he couldn't deny that, even if it feels like a sledgehammer to the chest, shattering into jagged pieces. can only nod solemnly, watching the way her thumb traces his knuckles, breath hitched; the world didn't bend for them anymore, no matter how much he wishes it could. the ache only spreads at the mention of being good, when he feels everything but, when he couldn't see any truth behind it, not when he had been the one to leave, so easily, so selfishly; the domino effect. " that's not true, " he whispers back, shaking his head in response. " i wish i could be so much better for you. " can't focus on that now, though, not without feeling like his chest might explode. walking her home, however? that he can do, rising to his feet, extending both hands to her to help her up. " of course, " he agrees. " let's get you home, hm? "

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[fantasykiri5]

A pair of birds of prey for days 15 and 16 of @hermitadaymay !!! Definitely not a day and a half (?) late

[leighsartworks216]

Writer's Block

Zayne x gn!Reader

I've been stuck in a bit of a rut trying to write for these boys, so I decided to write a fic about writer's block to get out of my writer's block. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked as well as it did

Warnings: established relationship, swearing, domestic fluff, writer's block, food, eating, cuddling, forehead kisses, references to Clopidogrel the squirrel

Word Count: 2,436

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The little black bar blinks mockingly at you. The only mark on the empty document, taunting you for your lack of creativity, of imagination, of perseverance. Blink, blink, blink. Waiting for you to type anything. And you come up pitifully short.

You sigh and shut your laptop. You look around the living room, at the little knick-knacks you brought from your apartment when you moved in, the cozy blankets strewn about as the days get colder, and the clock on the wall. You could watch TV, pick out a book from the shelf, put together a puzzle…

You open your laptop again. The empty document continues to mock you.

What do you want to write about? Action? Well, you’ve never been very good at writing fight scenes or thrilling chases. How about some romance? Eh, you have no idea where to start with that, and relationship drama sounds about as appealing as a moldy pizza crust from the bottom of a week-old dumpster. If you were a bit cleverer, you would try your hand at a murder mystery.

“Love?”

You hum.

Zayne comes around the sofa to pick up your empty mug from this morning that sits lonely on the coffee table. He looks down at you skeptically. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” you admit. He’d pry it out of you either way; might as well tell the truth. “My brain is stuck, right now. All I want to do is write, but nothing is coming out.”

“Why not take a break?”

“Because nothing else sounds good to do,” you try to explain. “Trying to do anything else feels bad, but trying to write also feels bad.”

He closes your laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Let’s start with getting something to eat. We can go to that music-themed diner we saw the other day.”

You sigh, long and drawn out, but the look he gives you advises you not to argue with him. “Okay.”

He smiles slightly. “Your brain needs time to rest, even if all you want to do is push through it.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Go get dressed. Something warm; it’s chilly outside.”

“Yes, doctor.” You draw yourself up from the cushion, body aching from sitting there for so long. He raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “Yes, my love.”

“That’s better.” He returns the kiss and heads into the kitchen to rinse out your mug.

You shoot one last glare at your laptop, before going to the bedroom to change.

-

The drive is mostly quiet. The soft hum of the AC pushing warm air throughout the car being the most prominent sound in the silence. You watch the people passing by, walking or biking along. You try to make little stories for some of them.

While Zayne is stopped at a red light, you point out his window at a teenage girl being pulled along by an overexcited dog. “She stole it from the pound.” He chuckles lightly, caught off guard by the sudden remark. “It’s a gift for her little brother, because their parents won’t let them get a pet. She’s gonna say it was running loose when she found it, and, ‘Oh please, can we keep it? We’ll take good care of it!’”

“Will they let her keep it?” he asks as the light turns green.

You huff and sink into your seat, staring back out of your window. “Who knows?”

He reaches over to hold your hand in your lap. His thumb runs over your knuckles, tracing the familiar path it takes every time you’re upset, brushing over the silver ring on your finger. It’s almost Pavlovian how quickly it soothes you. “I think they just might.”

You know it pains Zayne to see you like this, acting like a petulant child just because you can’t think of a few good words. You lean your head on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Mhm, but can I anyway?”

He breathes a quiet laugh. “Yes, you can.”

“Then, I’m sorry for acting like this. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Of course. If you would like to make it up to me, we should go to that crepe stand in the park.”

You laugh and pinch his hand. He squeezes you back in return. “Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, we can go there after lunch.”

-

The diner is snug. All sorts of band memorabilia line every inch of the walls. The tables are decorated with images of album covers, protected by a layer of see-through plastic. You manage to snag a booth right by the door, giving you a perfect view into the connected gift shop, lined with instruments and CDs.

As you wait for your food, named after old 1980s and 90s songs, you and Zayne catch up. Small updates on how Yvonne and Greyson are doing, in exchange for an odd article you saw on Moments. You tell him about a cat you saw the other day that you forgot to tell him about, and he updates you on Clopidogrel, the squirrel who comes to his office window to beg for nuts. Once the food arrives, though, conversation is exchanged in favor of listening.

Over the old music blaring a little too loudly in the diner, you listen to the full tables of friends and family that chat. You overhear something about an Aunt Mindy who’s just adopted another parrot, despite already owning three. Someone’s boss who keeps microwaving fish for lunch, and the ongoing notes-on-the-fridge war about it. A friend of a friend of a friend who met some celebrity, or so they say, but they can’t be trusted to tell the truth because of such-and-such.

A couple sitting behind Zayne, right beside the entrance to the gift shop, seem to be on their first date. The guy is talking a lot, even speaking over the girl he’s with at some points. You try not to stare when she suddenly blows up about him not listening to her. He talks over her again to try defending himself. It gets so bad, two staff have to tell them to leave so they stop disturbing everyone else. They don’t even get their food as they stomp out, continuing to complain all the while. Zayne shoots you a look that says he knows you’ll be using this for your writing at some point down the line.

Bellies nearly full, with just enough left for a dessert crepe, Zayne takes a moment to take in the decor. There’s one sign high up on the wall that says, “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t there!” It must be quite old. Really, all of the stuff in here could be considered antique. It’s fascinating to see it being appreciated instead of locked away behind glass; given the chance to live again.

“Feeling better?” he asks as he leads you back to his car, parked in a lot nearby.

“Mhm. But now I keep thinking…”

“About what?”

“How glad I am that none of our dates went that poorly.”

He chuckles softly. You smile and hold onto his arm, leaning into him. “Well, there was that time early on…”

You laugh at the memory. “You should have gone right home! I told you not to worry about dinner!”

“I couldn’t leave you to eat at that restaurant alone, exhausted or otherwise.”

“But then I had to drive you back home, anyway! You know how I don’t like driving your car.”

The car in question unlocks with a beep. He opens up the passenger side door for you to get in. “I’m glad my perseverance didn’t ruin your opinion of me,” he says, before shutting the door and rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

Once he gets in, you poke his arm. “Of course not. It just meant I had to get on your ass more about overworking yourself.”

“Yet you still ignore my advice…” He gives you a pointed glance as he starts the car. “Do I have to start getting on your ass about overworking yourself?”

“You already are!”

“I could be far more insistent about it than I currently am.”

“Please don’t.”

-

The park by the hospital is familiar and welcoming, as always. A light breeze caresses your cheeks as you start walking side by side, and you’re glad you dressed warmly like Zayne said to. Still, you may or may not have used it as an excuse to walk even closer to him, to “conserve heat” as you fake a shiver. He’s so used to your antics by now, he teases you about the possibility of keeping an extra coat and scarf in his car for you.

The people at the crepe stand know you already. You try not to think about how often you must visit for that to be the case, as they ask if you want your usuals and get to building the crepes exactly as you like. Zayne is just patient enough to let you take a quick photo of both of your treats together to post on Moments. You fondly wipe away a small glop of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth that he misses, and he catches your hand before you can put it on his nose instead.

You walk to a secluded little bench that you’ve practically claimed for yourselves. You’ve never seen anyone else sit here, ever. It’s tucked away beside a small pond, where ducks huddle together as they float, flat beaks tucked under their wings as they enjoy an afternoon nap. The bench itself is old and worn down, covered in lichen and carved into by old lovers. But it’s yours.

You sit side by side, watching the waterfowl and enjoying your treats. When you finish your crepe, you lean your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, indulging in being a little more affectionate in the extra bit of privacy you have here. It feels nice, just being here with him.

“Thank you again for this,” you say softly. You can’t fight the smile that appears on your face when you feel his head rest on top of yours. “The head editor has been hounding us all lately to write something spectacular. As much as I love working for the paper, sometimes it makes writing painful.”

He hums in understanding. His fingers trace mindless shapes against your hip, only stopping when you squirm from how ticklish it is. “You went into a job that makes your hobby into work, but that detracts from the relaxing, fun experience it used to be.”

You sigh. “Yeah. And then the stuff I do end up writing for fun, I hoard to myself. I haven’t done that for years, because I like sharing my stuff with other people. Now, it’s like I have to keep that little scrap of joy all to myself.” You close your eyes and turn your head to press your cold nose against his jacket lapel. “I know I should just quit and find something else to do, but even if I want to write a novel or a book of my own, I’d still be turning my hobby into a job.”

“You would be able to work at your own pace.”

“Then who’s to say I’ll ever finish anything to be able to publish it?”

“What would happen if you didn’t publish anything?” he counters. “Aside from posting on the internet.”

You pause for a minute. If you did quit, start writing for yourself and decide to write a novel, what would happen if it never got published? There wouldn’t be an editor or boss looking over your shoulder, hounding you about deadlines or appealing to a larger audience. And there wouldn’t be people expecting a novel from you unless you bring it up yourself. You could work on a secret project for years with Zayne as your only witness and there would be no worrying about other people getting hype and losing interest when you take longer than expected. Sure, you wouldn’t get paid, but money wasn’t a concern with Zayne’s career, and you could always do a little freelance if you felt like it, or find another job that doesn’t involve writing, so you can keep it as a hobby all to yourself again.

You sigh, as though a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders, and lean a bit heavier into his side. He welcomes it easily, adjusting his arm to wrap around your back so he can rub your arm. “I’ll put in my two weeks notice tomorrow,” you tell him. “Which means I still have to figure out what to write about for this assignment.”

“You’ll think of something,” he assures. “You can always write about that girl and her stolen dog.”

You chuckle. “Her parents will post up flyers about a missing dog, and an employee at the pound will see it. It’ll be a huge scandal. And just when she thinks she’ll have to give up the dog - which they’ve named Sir Butterton the Third - her parents will finally relent and adopt it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and he smiles down at you with those ever-calming hazel eyes of his. “See? You’ve already got a plot synopsis. The rest will come naturally.” He squeezes your hand, which has grown cold after spending so long in the cool breeze and autumn weather. “Now, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“You’re out here, too! You could catch a cold just as easily.”

“All the more reason to hurry back.” He stands first and helps you from the old bench. You’re not sure he even consciously thinks about it before doing up your jacket to keep the cold air from getting in. You don’t mind. It gives you a chance to admire the man you’ve chosen as your life partner. He gives you a questioning look. “What’s on your mind now?”

You smile and reach up to playfully adjust his scarf. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering who I should base the dad on in my story.”

His ears turn pink, but he shakes his head, taking your hand from his scarf and leading you back toward the car. “If that’s the case, I would recommend a different name for the dog in your story.”

“Oh? What should it be, then?”

“Aprotinin.”

“I’m not naming the dog after a drug!”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[heartorbit]

i would advise against sneaking a bunch of silly billies into your castle

[cerealmonster15]

jamiazu / ashenviper week day 6: toxic yaoi overblot

SORRY it's very much a rushed mess especially in the lower half jdkslfjksd i was v busy today and trying to hurry to get something done for this before midnight [covers up the clock... i was close enough,,, it's still day 6 in some time zones jkfdlsjfs]

unfortunate that the overblots have so much going on and take me ten billion years to draw otherwise i think id like drawing them more bc they LOOK VERY COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!