#i will tend the garden of your soul as you tend mine

[jackkatzz]

@solunest

New Crow Time 🐦‍⬛🦊🌟

[mrsokkotsu]

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ 𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𓈒 ˖ ࣪

yūta okkotsu x f!reader . sfw — hurt comfort. established relationship ﾉ heavy, heavy tw ; for self harm slash self destruction slash self mutilation :c ﾉ flower imagery is used tew portray da inflicted wounds ﾉ reader has a meltdown ﾉ slight religious imagery in da way yūta is compared tew dat of an angel here 'n there ﾉ non — sexual nudity i.e. yūta gives reader a warm bath tew soothe her ﾉ yuta tends tew reader's wounds ﾉ da ending is a happi one, not tew fret ! ! ﾉ note : dis piece is extremely self — indulgent . . pwease do b kind tew mi, i wrote dis for m' own comfort . . (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) ❤︎ - reupload frm an old blog of mine . .

you pick at your skin, gnaw at the flesh and peel it back in thin strips. blots of crimson well and burst forth from the wounds, drip down your arm in fat globs, splatter messily onto the pristine sheets of your bed and bloom across the fabric like wild flowers. a garden is sewn onto your arm, and your hands are the bloodied thorns that prick at the skin, that dig deep and pull at the fibres to make way for more pretty buds of red to spring forth. the sight is grotesque, and yet— you're enthralled. it's a morbid form of self expression, you think. the pain is a sweet burn and the sight is a masterpiece.

bared before the world like a raw nerve, your is soul stripped to the bone, the hideous parts of you spilling out and splashing the earth, staining the soil a muddy marron. the petals of the flower that is you are pulled apart one by one by a cruel hand, the stamen ripped free and left to rot, until there's nothing left but the naked bulb. the core of you, a hollow chamber with a heartbeat, pulsating, beating. it's a heart that's been crushed and mangled and beaten, and yet, somehow, it still thumps.

you can't stand the sight of the ugliness of your insides, the revulsion that curdles deep in the pit of your stomach, the sickening feeling of your heart's remains leaking and smearing all over your organs, and so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

with a sharpened piece of glass, you begin the work of slicing away the parts of you that are rotten. you're careful not to cut too deep, just enough for the blood to bubble and dribble out, the flesh beneath thinly sliced and weeping a steady stream of red. the material is cold against your skin and the blade is a welcome caress. its serrated edge kisses your wrist and nips at the sensitive skin, a lover's touch. each incision is a cathartic release, the ache a purifying baptism.

there is something so wonderfully therapeutic about the act of self mutilation, a sense of liberation that comes from taking the knife in hand and hacking away at the pieces of you that are diseased.

but your euphoria is short lived, and soon enough the adrenaline wanes and the high melts away, leaving behind a mess of broken, bleeding skin and the crushing reality of what you've done. the shame sets in and the fear begins to fester. a pitiful sound of anguish slips past your lips, and you find yourself falling to pieces. your tears fall freely, a torrential rainfall that batters your cheeks and floods the crevices of your mouth.

salty and bitter, they taste of regret. you're disgusted with yourself, and the urge to cut, to maim, to mar is strong, the craving a beast that gnaws hungrily at your gut. the glass sings sickeningly, and the sharp glint of the edges beckon you, seductively whispering your name. you want to scream, to claw and rend the skin from your bones, to rip yourself apart until you're a mangled heap of sticky nectar, stems, and roots. but you're tired, and so, instead, you fall to your knees, a supplicant before the altar of your despair.

your body shakes with the force of your sobs, and your throat feels like it's been scraped raw, your vocal cords bruised and battered. you're a wailing mess, your sounds so loud they crescendo into a high pitched shriek that would put a banshee to shame. the noise is a discordant cacophony, and it grates harshly against your ears, the shrillness causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end.

the cries could split the earth apart and rain hellfire upon the world.

and, perhaps, if you had a modicum of self-awareness, you would realise the magnitude of your sorrow, the enormity of the pain that has consumed you and call out for him yourself.

but, alas, the fog in your mind is too thick, the haze clouding your judgement and rendering you blind. so, when you hear the frantic footfalls and the familiar voice calling out your name, you can only assume that it's a figment of your imagination. it's nothing but a delusion conjured up by your shattered psyche, a cruel trick played on you by the remnants of your sanity, a final farewell from the ghost of your better self— a parting gift before your descent into madness.

however, when strong arms wrap around you and the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon fills your nose, you know that it's not a mirage.

a halo of light surrounds him, and he's the picture of ethereal grace, the embodiment of celestial beauty. his skin is a radiant canvas, his hair a crown of stardust, his eyes two pools of liquid boleite. you wonder what you must look like to him, a wilted flower with crumpled petals and torn leaves— a pitiful sight, indeed.

a part of you is mortified at the thought of him seeing you in such a state, but a larger part is glad, for your saviour has arrived. and you need him, desperately.

a quiet sob escapes his lips when he sees the carnage that has been wrought upon your skin. yuuta's own eyes well up with salty brine, and he cradles your battered form in his arms, gently stroking the unmarred parts of your body in a bid to comfort you. rainfall pitter-patters against your face— his tears, warm and heavy and laden with the weight of a concern so great it could rival the ocean's depths. they slide down your cheeks and mix with the remnants of your own, a river of shared sorrow, a bridge made of mutual empathy.

you are his heart's greatest treasure, and the sight of you broken and bleeding is enough to cleave him in two. his heart aches, and his soul cries out for yours. how he longs to take away the hurt, to absorb your pain into his own body and carry the burden of your suffering for you. but he knows he cannot.

alternatively, he does the next best thing. he vows to help you mend, to piece together the fractured shards of your soul and glue them back together with his love, the adhesive a potent concoction of soft spoken words, tender caresses, and warm embraces. he promises to be there for you, to walk alongside you on your path to recovery, to hold your hand and guide you through the darkness.

and, above all else, he pledges to love you— to cherish and treasure you, to show you the depth of his devotion, the unfaltering strength of his adoration, the infinite reaches of his regard for you. this, he will do until the end of time, and beyond that. even after his mortal coil has dissolved into dust, and his spirit has faded from existence, his love for you will remain, a phantom echo of a bygone era, a memory kept safe in the annals of history.

in a low voice, the young man calls out your name, a plea for you to look at him. though it takes a herculean effort, you do. you're met with the sight of his face, pale as a sheet, his expression tinged with grief. he's shaken to the core, the sight of your mutilated flesh a knife to his heart. your lips tremble and his own curl downwards into a frown. how cruel it is, to be faced with the grim reminder of the fragility of life, the vulnerability of the human condition, the impermanence of all things.

his hands shake as they clasp your own, his grip soft, yet firm, the contact grounding. a shaky breath leaves his lips, and he presses them to your knuckles, a prayer of thanks to the god above for allowing you to survive the ordeal.

your fingers twitch beneath his, and he brings them to his face, a silent invitation for you to touch him. his skin is smooth, and the planes of his features are sharp, chiselled to perfection, his visage comparable to a statue carved from marble. his eyes are wide and filled with trepidation, and his eyebrows are furrowed, creased with worry.

the tears still flow freely, and they dampen your fingertips, the pads of them smearing salty trails across his cheeks. you brush away the droplets and cup his face, a gesture meant to soothe him, to reassure him that you're here, alive, despite the physical (and mental) wounds.

it seems to work, somewhat, and his body sags in relief, the tension in his muscles dissipating. however, he's not entirely at ease. his heart still hammers in his chest, and his breathing is shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. it's a struggle to remain calm, but he does his best, for your sake. his voice is a tremulous whisper, and his words come out in a stuttering rush, his tone tinged with the panic.

he speaks of his fear, the dread that had settled like lead in his stomach when he'd first seen the state you were in. his voice breaks as he recounts his terror, the sheer terror at the thought of losing you. a shudder runs through him, and his digits clench around yours, a desperate plea for you to stay, to never leave him.

the prospect of living in a world without you is an unfathomable one, an idea so absurd it causes a bitter laugh to tumble from his lips. for without you, the world would lose its luster, its vibrancy, its life. the colours would fade, and the air would be suffocating, the grief a heavy shroud that would drape itself over the land.

yuuta is certain that, were such a fate to befall him, he would follow suit, his spirit crumbling into ash and dust. his very essence would disintegrate, the threads that bind him to this world coming undone, and his soul would be adrift, aimlessly wandering the realms of the beyond.

your voice is hoarse and strained as you reply, the syllables heavy, your mouth feeling as if it were filled with cotton.

you apologise profusely, the words spilling forth, a deluge of regret and remorse. the shame threatens to swallow you whole, and your vision blurs with fresh tears, the guilt a vice around your throat. but before you can descend further into self loathing, yuuta cuts you off.

his tone is stern, yet his touch remains gentle, his fingers brushing away the wetness that stains your skin. he admonishes you lightly, reminding you of the importance of your life, the preciousness of your being, the irreplaceability of your existence.

you're a miracle, he says, a blessing sent from the heavens above. you see much irony in the statement, as a halo could not be far off from encircling his head. a divine aura emanates from him, and he radiates light, the warmth of the sun itself. you're not sure if it's his natural disposition or the result of the proximity between you two, but yuuta glows.

if it weren't for your rosey liquid tainting his unblemished flesh, you'd almost say he was a seraph.

a soft, wet sound comes from him, and your focus is pulled from his visage and down to where he's holding your wrists. you watch as the young man licks his lips and presses them to the tyrannised flesh, a balm for the hurt.

sticky droplets of nectar cling to the corners of his mouth, but he pays no mind to the metallic tang. rather, he continues his ministrations, peppering feather light kisses over every inch of skin he can reach, his touch a whisper against the abused area. he's careful not to agitate the wounds, and he's delicate in his handling of you, his movements deliberate and slow.

when he pulls away, he looks at you, and his eyes are full of love, a compassion that could melt the coldest of hearts. it's a look that speaks volumes, and it's more eloquent than any words could ever hope to be. his gaze conveys the depth of his feelings, the true nature of his devotion, the unparalleled ardency of his emotions. he loves you, completely and wholly, and he's willing to show it, in every way he can.

his fingers ghost over the marks, tracing the lines, the gashes, the incisions, his digits dancing across the planes of your body, before he finally rises and scoops you up into his arms, careful not to jostle your injuries. ponderous drips of crimson fall from your open wounds and splatter onto the floor, a gruesome trail marking the path he takes as he carries you out of the room.

a single glance is all it takes for him to discern the severity of your condition, and, without missing a beat, yuuta sets his sights on the bathroom, his steps purposeful and sure. you're trembling in his arms, the adrenaline having worn off completely, leaving you a weak and shivering mess. the pain is intense, a pulsing sting that throbs and radiates outward, the agony spreading throughout your body. you can feel the blood oozing out of the lacerations, the sensation nauseating, the coppery scent invading your nostrils and causing bile to rise in your throat.

yuuta's movements are prudent as he places you on the rim of the bathtub, the ceramic cold beneath your thighs. you watch as he fiddles with the faucet, the water rushing out and filling the basin with a dull roar, the sound echoing off the tiled walls and reverberating in your ears. the young man tests the temperature, adjusting it until it's just right, before shutting off the flow. steam rises from the surface, and the mirror fogs over, a milky haze obscuring your reflection.

yuuta helps you strip off your soiled garments, his fingers working deftly as he removes the offending items, tossing them aside without a second thought. he guides you into the tub, the warm water lapping at your skin and turning a shade of pink as it mingles with your inside honey.

you whine at the initial contact, the ache a searing sensation that has you screwing your eyes shut. but it soon abates, and you relax into the embrace of hot curls and bubbles, your body going limp as the heat seeps into your bones. your muscles unclench and the knots loosen, the tension easing out of your system. the stress melts away, and the weight of the day's events is lifted from your shoulders.

you sigh in relief, and yuuta takes that as a sign to proceed.

he's methodical as he cleans you, his hands working efficiently, washing away the grime and the filth, the residue of your misery. your vital fluid mixes and swirls together with the adam's ail, forming intricate patterns prior to being whisked down the drain. the pigment slowly disappears, and the water returns to its transparent state, the only remnants of the incident the scars that have been left behind.

yuuta's touch is a gentle caress, and his strokes are soothing, the pressure just right. the suds slide down your skin, the foam a tickle, bubbles bursting into tiny clouds as a silken cloth wipes the last part of your pain away.

you can feel the love behind each pass, the fondness and attention that goes into each motion, the affection that percolates from his fingertips. the intimacy is overwhelming. so overwhelming in fact, that you can't help but bleat, the tears beginning anew.

unlike before, though, these are tears of joy. the euphoria that comes with being cared for, with being cherished and appreciated, is a bliss unlike any other.

you're grateful, immensely so, for the privilege of being in his presence. maybe, just maybe, you've been too blinded by the smother of your purgatory to truly comprehend the immensity of your partner's proclivity towards you, his unflagging loyalty and commitment to you, his unfaltering faith in you. it's a sobering realisation, and the epiphany strikes you hard.

you're reminded of the fact that he's your paramour, not in name, but in heart and soul. the affirmation is a salve for the punctures that have been imposed upon you, an unction for the fissures that have ruptured your heart. and you thank him copiously, a string of garbled words that leave your lips, a jumbled mess of indebtedness and appreciation. your speech is nonsensical, the sounds melding together and blending into one, the syllables running into each other and forming a singular unit, an amalgamation of vowels and consonants.

but he understands, and he smiles, a smile so beautiful it makes the sun seem so bleak in comparisson. the brilliance is blinding, and it has you blinking back stars, the radiance burning your retinas. but you don't look away.

how could you? how could you, when it's a smile that makes the world stop spinning, the planets halt in their orbits, the constellations freeze in place, the galaxy hold its breath.

the climbing, prickly plant that squeezed your insides, coiled around your intestines, and strangled the life from you has finally blossomed into something sweet. it's an explosion of colour, a profusion of aromatic petals, a display of vibrant hues. the nectar that flows from your core is honeyed, a sap of saccharine ambrosia. and it tastes like hope, like happiness.

your heart flutters, a hummingbird's wings flapping erratically against your ribcage, the palpitations causing your pulse to race. it's a pleasant feeling, a warmth that spreads through your veins and permeates every fibre of your being, the euphoria a tingle in your extremities.

who knew that the remedy for all ills could be found in the shape of a gorgeous boy with a big heart?

who knew that the cure for all wounds could be found in the form of a loving, caring soul who just so happened to be yours?

and who knew that the key to feeling whole again could be found in the hands of someone who looked at you as if you were worth more than the world itself? you, certainly not, before today. yet, the evidence is irrefutable.

as you sit there, bathed in his love, the wounds on yourself forgotten (regardless of the buzz that lingers), you can't help but think that, perhaps, you've found a reason to stay. a reason to live. a reason to continue walking this path, hand in hand with him.

the journey of existence, though long and arduous, seems less daunting now. for, as you gaze into the depths of his eyes, you can see a future. a future full of possibilities, a life rich in meaning, a chance at joy. it's a prospect that excites you, and the thought of exploring it together with him, by his side, swells within you a feeling of elation.

you can't express it properly, the enormity of the emotion too big, so you lean up and capture his lips with yours, water splashing and drenching his attire as you throw your arms around him. the kiss is an explosion of colours, the palette merging into one another and forming a rainbow of shades. it's a kaleidoscope of emotions, a prism of sensations, a mosaic of sentiments and an ode to your love. it's everything you've ever wanted to say and more.

and, by the way yuuta returns the gesture with a passion and vigour, you know he understands.

after all, they say actions speak louder than words. and what could be a more succinct, yet expressive, form of communication than a kiss? for, in that single act, you convey all the things you can't seem to find the words for, all the emotions you struggle to verbalise. it's a language all its own, and it's one he can speak fluently. a language you two have mastered together, a dialect of love.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Alastor hated both Adam and Lucifer with a fiery passion. The fallen angel had beaten him in battle, no one has ever bested him like that!

The King of Hell grated on his nerves simply for existing.

And what was worse? They were TOGETHER! As in dating and they were happy and thriving! Sure there was a lot of melodrama along the way that everyone had to bare witness to, but the radio demon had been sure they would crash and burn. He was rooting for them to fail.

He thought that when the first man respawned in Hell that Lucifer would have had him tortured for the rest of his days. That's not what happened at all, he took Adam in and let him stay at the hotel and even got the sinner to sell his soul to the King for ultimate protection.

Slowly, everyone watched the two fall in love for each other even when they tried to hide it. It should have been a toxic relationship what with all the baggage between them since the dawn of time.

But no, their love was equal parts vile and beautiful. Alastor wanted to puke even thinking about it.

He had two things in mind. Alastor wanted a rematch with Adam, he was a sinner now so he would be much weaker. An easy win to sooth Alastors bruised ego. Then he wanted to create as many wedges as he could in their disgusting relationship.

He couldn't do much of anything to Lucifer, being the King meant he'd turn Alastor into paste before he even lifted a finger.

But if he could get under Adam's skin, fuck with his mind and plant seeds of doubt then the fallen angel would do the rest.

Adam hummed happily as he plucked weeds out of his garden. Lucifer had made him a huge greenhouse filled with a garden for him to tend to as a way to relax and a gift.

Adam's gift in return was a little more oral.

He loved this garden, it wasn't Eden, nothing would ever compare to that garden, but it was one that Lucifer made just for him and he loved it all the more.

"It's looking good right?" Adam asked as he looked back to Lucifer who was in a lawn chair watching him work.

Lucifer had been looking at Adams bent over frame as he pulled weeds. "Looks exquisite." He wasn't talking about the garden.

Adam smirked. "You mean the garden right?"

"I think two things are exquisite. Like the flowers that are in bloom and those jeans that hug your ass just right." He should get Adam more jeans like that.

Adam just shook his head playfully, "These are my favorite jeans."

"Mine too.~" Lucifer winked and Adam had to look away and smother a laugh in his hand. Cheeky devil.

"Gentlemen." The sound of a static filled voice filled the room. Adam frowned and looked over to where Alastor was standing.

This fucking guy, Adam thought bitterly. Adam got to his feet and wiped the dirt off on his jeans. "The fuck do you want?" He walked over to his work bench to grab some tools.

"Now that's not very nice. Am I interrupting something?" Alastor said not at all caring if he did.

"Well actually-" Lucifer started, but got the microphone shoved in his face to silence him. He growled and glared at the radio demon. How dare he just come in here and ruin his and Adams garden time together!!

"Don't care. I'm not here for you your majesty I'm here to speak with Adam actually." Alastor spit out the title as if it were poison.

"Again, what the fuck do you want I'm busy. Last time I checked, I don't want you in here." Adam said not looking at Al, his voice taking on a sharper edge. He went to stand beside Lucifer, glaring at Alastor.

"I'll cut to the chase. I want a rematch against you."

Adam blinked. "Rematch?" The fuck did that mean? It took him a minute until it clicked. "Oh! You mean from when I beat your ass on the roof? Ha! Yeah, no not gonna happen Bambi get lost."

Alastor narrowed his eyes. "What's the matter, worried you'd lose?"

Adam laughed. "Bitch please, you're not even worth my time." He walked over to Alastor and got in his face. "Now get the fuck out of my garden."

Alastor turned to look at Adams work bench. He noticed that among the tools and seeds there was a single potted plant. Must be special.

In a swift motion Alastor knocked it to the ground with his microphone. Adam reached out to catch it but he wasn't fast enough, the pot broke on the ground the flower and dirt going everywhere.

Lucifer had given him that flower, he created it special for Adam as a symbol of their love.

Adam's eyes flashed red as he turned a glare to that radio fuck. "WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE!?" His voice took on a more demonic edge. How fucking dare he! That guys smug smile was really pissing Adam off.

"What's the matter, did your little boyfriend get you that silly little flower?" In the next second Al found himself sliding across the floor, some pain in his throat.

Adam had throat punched the fucker. "As a matter a fact, he did." He could feel his blood boiling, he was so pissed. "You want a fucking fight you got one."

Alastor got to his feet grinding madly. Finally, he would wipe the floor with that shit stain.

Lucifer used his magic to conjure something up for Adam. "Here, use this." He handed Adam his guitar that doubled as a saw. Lucifer took Adam by the chin and looked him in the eye. "Kick his fucking ass. I'll be watching."

Adam smirked, his eyes going back to their golden color. "You bet I will."

"And stay the fuck out!" Adam yelled as he slammed the doors to the garden. Alastor on the other side crumpled on the floor. He fucking lost again! What the hell was that? Alastor slunk away to the shadows, he had planning to do.

Adam walked back over to Lucifer who was grinning from ear to ear beaming with pride for his boyfriend. He had his hands behind his back. "Whatcha got there?"

Lucifer revealed the newly fixed pot with the flower he made for him. As if it had never been broken. "For the victor."

Adam smiled and took the flower, he leaned down and kissed Lucifer on the lips. "Thank you, Luci." Adam placed the flower back where it belonged. He felt arms wrap around him from behind.

"You know what would be fun?" Lucifer purred as he rubbed Adams hips suggestively.

"Hmm, sex in the garden?"

"Sex in the garden."

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane Chapter 8: Finish Him!

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention? 

Parings: Quinn Fabray x Reader / eventual Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Reader has a Penis, Guardians of the galaxy vol 3 spoilers

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Avenger Lane Chapter 8: Finish Him!

“Your soul is mine!” You mimicked Shang Tsung from Mortal Kombat. 

“FINISH HIM!” the game announcer bellowed.

“Nooooo!” Beth shouted as Sub-Zero performed their fatality. 

“Beth, your room is a mess!” You hear Quinn shouting from upstairs causing Ollie to sit up from his nap.

“Young lady, did you not clean it earlier when she asked you the first time?” You raised your brow pausing the video game you both were playing.

“Beth!” Quinn shouted from upstairs.

“Uh oh.” Fin giggled looking up from her drawing. “Mommy’s mad.”

“Well, go on.” You said taking her controller hearing her groan.

“Don’t play without me!” Beth shouted as she marched up stairs.

“I help Bethy.” Fin said racing after her, leaving her drawing behind.

You stood making your way to the garage grabbing your sheers you needed to tend to the gardens anyway. Right as you kneeled in front of your flower bed a certain redhead walked by.

“They’re beautiful.” Natasha smiled stopping next to you before crouching down.

“Beautiful flowers-” You cut a small bouquet. “For a beautiful lady.” 

“Thank you.” She chuckled bashfully taking them from you.

“You're welcome.” you grinned before asking. “Off to Wanda’s? Or did you just wanna see me?”

“Well always happy to see you, but I am about to have a drink with Wanda.” She smiled. “Do you wanna join us?”

“No, I'm just messing with you. I'm waiting for Beth to finish her chores so we can go back to our video game marathon.”

“Oooh fun, I've never really played anything before besides what is at an arcade. Sometimes Pietro would convince us to skip school and join him at the arcade.” 

“Woooow, bad student.” you both chuckled.

“I was a great student! How are you by the way?”

“Good; we took Beth to get registered at school earlier today. I can’t believe she’s starting the 6th grade already.”

“I bet, did she join any clubs?”

“Her mother really wants her to be a cheerleader.”

“You don’t?” She raised her brow.

“Not really.” You sighed setting your sheers down. “I just can’t see her doing that.”

“Does she want too?” 

“Well it looks like her new friends are playing soccer. So now she’s on the fence.” You shrugged.

“Lyla’s pretty excited she’s played since she was a little girl.” Natasha added with a smile.

“Secretly, I want her in anything but cheer. I know how cheerleaders are, and I do not want my daughter to be like them.” You grumbled.

“Well they’re only in middle school.” Natasha smirked.

“Still.”

“Of course.” Natasha nodded standing up with a grin.

“Tell Wanda I said hi.” You grinned.

“I will. When are you going to tell Quinn about the job offer?” She raised her brow at you.

“I’m working up to it.” You mumbled.

“Hmhm.” She smirked walking off to the Maximoff residence smelling her flowers. “Thanks for the flowers.”

“Welcome!” You say back as you watch her smile at you before walking inside the Maximoff home.

“Look at that love sick look on your face.” Wanda laughed as she set two wine glasses down.

“Shut up.” She grumbled setting them down softly before taking the glass in her hand.

Natasha was too busy looking at her flowers to notice Wanda yelling at the boys to go outside.

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You were tending to your garden with your phone playing an old Journey song in the back ground. You were jamming along when you heard Wanda’s boys run outside.

“What’s up boys!” You waved seeing the Maximoffs holding a football.

“Hi!” They waved excitedly.

“Can Beth come out and play?” Billy asks.

You sighed looking back at the house. “Well Beth is finishing up her chores but she can when she’s done.”

“Oh okay. Beth said you used to play football.” Tommy says looking at the flowers you were repotting.

“Four time state champ.” You smirked.

“That’s awesome! Mom, just signed us up today, but we don't really know how to play.” Billy says sadly.

“Will you teach us?” Tommy asked sweetly. “Please? When we asked our dad he thought it meant soccer.”

“Well soccer is great too!”

“But we wanna play football.” Billy sighed sadly.

“Please teach us.” Tommy pleaded.

“No…” the boy's looked down in disappointment. “but I’ll coach ya.” You teased with a wink.

The boys jumped up and down cheering.

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Wanda and Natasha were in the middle of a conversation when they heard the boys yelling. They ran outside only to see you teaching them how to tackle. 

“Y/N, is so great with kids.” Wanda said, before taking a sip of her wine. “Ya know if Vis wasn’t such a great husband.” she shrugged jokingly.

Natasha glares playfully. 

“I'm kidding!... Sort of.” Wanda laughed.

“Another thing that makes her undeniably attractive.” Natasha murmured watching you laugh wholeheartedly with the boys.

“Vis is going to be jealous if he sees this.” the taller woman murmured.

“What? That you’re ogling Y/N?” the shorter woman chuckled.

“No.” Wanda laughed, slapping her arm. “More so that Y/N is coaching our sons on how to play football. Vis tried but he grabbed a soccer ball, and the boys didn’t have the heart to tell him.” She sighed before looking over at you. “What is Y/N doing?” 

You were lugging a large tractor tire towards the lawn.

“Okay you were right Y/N is really strong.” Wanda smirked watching your muscles flex as you flipped the tire.

“Can I try?!” She heard Tommy ask and you laughed.

“Be my guest.” You stepped aside as Tommy growled trying to move the tire but only nudged it.

“Oh this is adorable.” Wanda chuckled, taking out her phone once more to record the boys. “Come on Billy, you can do it!” 

“Dad, what are you doing?” Beth asked suddenly next to you.

“Oh hey sweetheart!” You laying your hand on her tiny shoulder. “I'm just teaching the boys about football. They wanted to try and lift the tire before I hang it up.”

“Can I try?” Beth asked looking up at you.

“Of course.”

“Beth!” The boys waved her over explaining how heavy the tire is.

Beth remembered you throwing the tire and squatted down before using her legs to support the toss.

“That’s my daughter!” You cheered.

Beth blushed hearing everyone cheer for her.

You finally moved the tire where you wanted it using rope to tie it to the tree branch out on your lawn. You jumped from the tree taking the ball Billy handed you,

“The key to a perfect spiral is hand placement and foot work.” You showed them with one hand how you were holding it. You slowly showed each step in movement before throwing it right through the tire.

“Wow!” The boys gasped.

“I know right.” Beth grinned.

“Who wants to go first?” You grinned, taking the ball from Billy who ran to get it. “Thanks bud.”

“Hey Y/L/N!” Steve shouted from his driveway holding up his arms.

You stepped back angling yourself before grunting as you threw it straight in his arms.

“Yeah!” He chuckled before throwing it right back.

You jumped up catching it before landing back on the grass.

“That was so cool!” The boys gushed.

“Woooo! That’s a running back right there!” He clapped his hands cheering before he walked into his home.

“My turn!” Beth shouted.

Soon Cassie and Morgan, and Monica joined in with the kids throwing perfect spirals.

“Okay but this is such a dad thing!” Carol giggled as she watched you coaching the kids. She and Val walked over to watch you and the kids with Wanda and Natasha. “She’s literally teaching the kids on the block.” 

“It’s called Coaching.” Val smirked, taking a sip of her beer they brought over, nudging her wife. “That’s it sweetheart that’s the hustle!” Val clapped seeing Monica throw the ball through the tire.

Soon a car drove up it was Vis.

“Uh oh.” Wanda sighed.

Vis got out watching his boys being coached by you. He sighed sadly before trudging up the steps. “I see the boys asked Y/N to coach them.” He sighed.

“Oh Vis-“

“It’s quite alright darling. Y/N is a 4 time state champion. They seem to be learning a great deal. I’ll just go get washed up for dinner.” He made a mental note to return the book he purchased earlier that same day.

“Oof, he is definitely upset.” Val nodded.

“I’d give my vibrator to see Y/N in her old football uniform.” Carol fanned herself, ignoring the depressed Englishman to watch you run around with the kids.

“Oh my God, Carol!” Natasha chuckled before looking at Val.

“What? Y/N is hot. I wouldn’t mind them in our bed. Devils threesome and all.” Val shrugged. “Her wife is just as sexy, I can only imagine what goes on in that bedroom.” She laughed causing the women to giggle. 

Natasha stayed silent clenching her legs knowing exactly what you were like as she recalled a memory.

“I’ve seen it.” Wanda blushed smiling as she bit her lip, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Shut up! You have not.” Carol scoffed.

“I did and let me just say Y/N, is very, very well endowed.” Wanda smirked while finishing her drink.

“I can confirm. Hung as a fucking horse” Val chuckled. 

“How did you both even-“ Natasha began she was upset. How dare they oogle you… even though she used to do the same thing.

“Gym I saw the outline.”

“Quinn did this sexy strip tease for Y/N in the living room. It was like watching one of those nature shows I couldn’t look away. Y/N definitely knows how to work a woman, and Quinn knows how to work Y/N. All of Y/N.” She giggled.

“Damn Wands you watched them fuck?” Val furrowed her brows. “Have you ever seen Carol and I?”

“Once.” She giggled.

“Oh my God.” Val muttered.

“We’re getting black out curtains.” Carol murmured. “How did you see Y/N and not tell me though?”

“Are you kidding she made me feel…slightly emasculated. Why would I ever openly say that she’s bigger than-” Val scoffed. 

“Oh baby, you shouldn’t ever feel that way.” Carol smirked sitting on Val’s lap giving her a kiss.

“Alright you two; reel it in.” Nat muttered, sipping her drink as they began to feel eachother up. 

“Speak of the devil.” Wanda said, diverting her attention to the girls to Quinn who stepped out on her own porch.

“Dinner is ready.” Quinn smiled. “Beth, come wash up.”

“Aww but mom! Pop is coaching us!” Beth whined.

“Papa me too! Papa me too!” Fin ran out the door with your old football helmet.

You laughed watching her tumble down the steps the helmet breaking her fall.

“Fin, I told you to leave your papa’s things alone.”

“It’s ok Q.” You wink. 

“Papa my turn!” Fin whined, holding out her tiny hands.

“Oh my gosh fine!” Beth huffed, throwing a spiral at her little sister.

“Beth.” You and Quinn said sternly after it bounced off of the helmet.

“Sorry.” Beth said meekly after her mother glared at her.

“You did great kiddo.” You say pushing the helmet up so she could see.

“Okay enough football for tonight let’s eat dinner. Beth take Fin and go wash up please.”

“Aww mom, one more round!”

“It’s alright Sweetheart I’m pretty hungry. You all were awesome today! It’s getting a little late so everyone go home, and wash up.” You turned waving towards the ladies watching.

The kids cheered before each one ran to their respective houses.

“Fin!” Beth huffed as Finley ran right behind the other kids to the Maximoff residence.

The kids cheered before each one ran to their respective houses.

“Natty!” Finley beamed from beneath the helmet.

“Hi Finny!”

“I’m like papa now!”

“I see that you did great!” Natasha smiles lifting your youngest on her lap.

Meanwhile the other neighborhood kids were gushing about their new fondness for football.

“Mom, did you see me?!” Billy gasped holding the football.

“Mom, that was so much fun!” Monica said, looking up at Carol and Val.

“Yeah it was! You did fantastic out there lieutenant trouble!” Carol grinned.

“How’s pizza sound for our little football player?” Val smirked.

“Yayyy!” Monica cheered.

“Mom did you see?!” Tommy panted, his hair crazy and sweaty..

“I did sweetie you and your brother are naturals.” Wanda smiled sweetly, pushing his wet sweaty hair back. “Did you thank coach Y/L/N?” 

“Yes momma.” They nodded.

“Billy and I are gonna make coach Y/L/N a tshirt tomorrow in art class!” Tommy grinned.

“That’s really thoughtful. Boys, go on and take showers, dinner will be ready soon.”

“Bye neighbors!” The boys shouted to the women drinking on their porch before racing one another to the shower.

“Hi Miss Nat, Fin, come on, we have to go back home for dinner.” Beth 

“Hi Beth.” Natasha smiled at Quinn’s mini clone.

“Neh, I stay with Natty.” 

“Oh you’ll stay with me?” Natasha chuckled looking down at her little eyes beneath the helmet.

“Fin.” Beth huffed.

“How about next time Fin? Your mommy made you dinner, it's time to go eat now.”

“Aww.” Finley bowed her head making Natasha lift it back up before she tumbled over by the weight of the helmet.

“We’ll go swimming tomorrow, how about that?” Natasha smiled.

“Okay Natty.” Finley made grabby hands at her older sister. Beth rolled her eyes before lifting her up.

“Bye Natty.” “Bye Miss Nat.” The kids said in unison.

“Bye, see you again soon.” She looked over at you who winked in response.

Natasha looked away when Quinn started acting like a lovesick teenager by pulling you in a kiss.

“You gonna be my coach tonight?” Quinn husked.

“I can think of some drills.” You smirked.

“Hey Y/L/N!” Steve shouted as you held your wife by her hips pecking her lips softly. He ran over from across the street.

“Hmm?” You hummed, turning your head before turning away from your wife.

“Let’s all get together this weekend to have a friendly game of touch football? I can bring out the grill and cooler.”

“Yeah man sounds like a plan!” You grinned.

“Nice! I’ll get the guys together.”

“Oi what are we? Chopped liver?” Val shouted.

You chuckled leaning back against Quinn who stood a step higher. Her arms wrapped loosely around your neck. She was whispering sweet nothings near your ear. It drove her absolutely insane when you did anything sports related. 

“The more the merrier!” Steve laughed.

“Yeah sounds good just more ass I get to smack.” You smirked over at them as Quinn bit her lip.

“Wow Y/L/N I had no idea you were such a jock.” Carol smirked.

“Four time state champ baby!” You grinned.

“My mom won the cheer championship 4 times in a row too!” Beth smiled looking up at her mother.

“The jock and the cheerleader. Lots of locker room meetups?” Val smirked. 

“How do you think we got Beth?” You chuckled as Quinn elbowed you and Beth made a ew sound before running inside.

“Nice.” Val chuckled high fiving you.

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The following morning you had been walking Ollie with the girls when you all came across Peter and Gamora Quill walking their animals.

“Oh my gosh!” Beth gasped.

“Can I pet?” Fin pointed.

“Yes.” Gamora giggled. “Yes you can pet.” She crouched down letting your daughters pet their mini zoo of animals.

“Sorry.” You chuckled.

“Oh don’t be neighbor, this happens all the time we don’t mind and neither do they.” Quill laughed. “We were just about to put them in the backyard. Why don’t you guys just follow us and you can keep playing them.”

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“That’s such a sad story but at least they found the their happy ever after. Rocket and the others really went through the ringer.” You say as the raccoon settles on your lap letting you gently pet him as you listen to Peter Quill and Gamora explain how they found him in the first place, and how Gamora made a sort of career change from being a bounty hunter to a rescue hunter. She went from hunting Nazi’s to hunting animal abusers and sometimes even child abusers

“Yeah they really did.” Gamora whispers softly just before Rocket lept from your lap to hers giving her a snuggle before darting off towards up a tree that Peter made a treehouse in. “After finding him and Lylla I couldn’t let them be apart.” 

You smile seeing the otter they rescued in their salt water pool. You sniffled and wiped a tear away looking around at the recuses they have found together. “Well Rocket, is welcomed to our trash anytime.” 

“I love Flor!” Beth giggled as she played with the handicapped bunny. 

“I can’t believe animal cruelty is even a thing. What kind of monster of a human would hurt defenseless animals.” You sigh. “They’re all so sweet and beautiful. Makes me love and appreciate Ollie even more. I’ve only known Rocket, Lylla, Cosmo, and Flor a short while and I would absolutely lay my life down for them just like I would for Ollie.” You smiled seeing Ollie and Cosmo playing around with one another.

“Maybe we can take all of you to visit Teefs.” Gamora smiled. “He’s living at the Aquarium now in New York. We hated separating them but Teefs needed a lot of special care and the Aquarium provides that. We take them out to visit him at least 3 times a month.”

“I’d love to meet the big guy, and I’m sure the girls would too as well.” You chuckle as Cosmo, their rescue dog, gives you kisses. “Thank you Cosmo, you're a good girl.” She barked in excitement she whisked Fin up and on her back. Zooming all of the yard chasing Ollie.

“Cosmo zoomies!” Fin giggled on her back.

“The girls are in love with this place.” You chuckled seeing Beth’s face light up when floor hopped on her chest as they laid in the grass.

“They are always welcome here.” Gamora smiled.

“Yeah maybe next time I can grill us some burgers, and you can actually meet our team.” Peter grinned.

“Yeah I’d like that!” After a beat you asked; “Have you thought about opening up a rescue center?”

“We have but we just felt like if we did then it would need to basically be a zoo so they can free roam and not be tied down in a cage.”

“Well when you guys find the right place let me know. I’d love to help out in anyway that I can.”

“Thank you Y/N.” Gamora smiled.

“Beer?” Peter grins, handing you a bottle.

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“Hey.” You say knocking on her office door.

“Hi baby, you and the girls have a nice walk?” Quinn smiles, taking her glasses off looking from her computer to you.

“It was great we met some more neighbors down the block, but we can talk about that later. I wanna talk with you about something important to me.”

“Okay.” She said standing up taking your hand leading you to her loveseat. “What’s going on?”

“Well a few days ago I was speaking with Tony, and he basically offered me a job on his team.”

“With Stark Industries?” Quinn’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, he heard I was supposed to go to MIT, and since I actually know what I’m doing he offered me a job.”

“Wow.” She smiled, patting your hands.

“You don’t want me to take it.” You mutter softly with a sigh.

“It’s just Fin is still not in school, and I-“

“Natasha said she’d be her babysitter, and Beth will be in school.” You say.

Quinn bit her lip looking away.

“Hey.” You say gaining her attention back. “This is important to me. I can actually bring something home. I can actually have my own career. It’s time Quinn.”

“Let’s wait a couple years for Fin to go to school then we can-“

“If you don’t want Natasha to take care of Fin. Then why don’t you just work from home fulltime and take care of our daughters yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Quinn why can’t you just meet me half way-“

“Because I may be pregnant.” She interrupts you.

“Wait what?” You furrow your brows.

“I didn’t wanna tell you yet, I wanted to be sure.” She sighed standing up.

“Oh.” You raise your brows.

She swiftly turned around glaring at you. “You said you wanted-“

“No, no, I do, I do.” You say quickly rushing to her side, taking her hands. “Have you taken a test yet?”

“No…I’m still waiting a few more days to see if I start.” She muttered. 

“Okay.” You nodded. “So we really aren’t sure yet.”

“No… but I know my body, and it feels just like the first time. I’ll make a doctor's appointment.”

You took her hand and sat down in thought. You did want another baby, but you knew she didn’t want another. You can’t help but feel a little blind sided. You internally roll your eyes at yourself Beth and Finley were both surprises, and you did tell her you wanted another baby. Maybe you won't have to turn down your dream job. You take in a deep breath and slowly release before saying something more so for yourself.

“One day at a time.”

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave ~

chapter 1

[I am reposting my fanfic on here due to the fact it’s been edited! I am leaving out the first few paragraphs of chapter 1 due to it being all about the BG3 story. Link to my AO3 on my profile]

I awaken to the sun beaming through the glass windows, being reminded by the Earth that I’m still alive. I made it another day. I’m still not accustomed to being in an actual bed, for all the adventures I had involved sleeping outside, camping with the unknown around us. I’m thankful for being away from all the lurking dangers that thirsted for my death.

“Good morning, my love,” Gale says with the sleepiest voice, his face nuzzled into my neck as he spoons me in bed. I smile, feeling his comfort and warmth against my body in the earliest of mornings. “I hope you slept well.” His warm skin is pressed against mine, and it could honestly put me back to sleep. My eyes try to adjust to the morning light, focusing from the blur as I try to fully awaken.

“I’m…starting to,” I murmur, stretching my body as I turn to face him. I stare deep into his dark brown eyes which are heavily defined by his long lashes. I could stare into them all day. “How about you?”

“Oh, definitely the same. I wake up everyday thinking how happy I am, how lucky we are to be here. More importantly, I’m grateful we’re alive.” His hand is on my naked waist, holding me close to him. “Oh, how I wish we could participate in some romantic coitus right about now, but unfortunately, I have to be at the Academy in just a little over an hour. I slept in just a tad later than I anticipated.” I kiss his lips delicately and close my eyes, wishing he wasn’t leaving so soon. He has been doing some heavy research the past few days and coming up with new strategies to help his students learn magic, so having this time together, no matter how long it is, means the world to me.

“I understand completely. Maybe later, then. We are married after all and have all the time in the world.” He chuckles and proceeds to kiss my forehead. His tressym, Tara, flies in the room and nearly scares the daylights out of me. I’ve been living with Gale for a year and I’m still not used to his flying feline, though I absolutely adore her to no end. I never had cats, so it’s an adjustment for me.

“Oh, Professor Gale Dekarios, it’s time for you to get at it!” she says, landing on our bed. “I’m glad you two weren’t in the middle of…well, you know.” Gale and I look at each other, fighting laughter but blushing from mild embarrassment. Only once has Tara intruded on us and it was a moment I’ll never forget. That moment included her staring at us with eyes full of horror, but she didn’t want to turn away. Gale caught her, and she screamed, flying rapidly out of the room at high speeds.

“Yes, yes, Tara. I’m getting out of bed. Now shoo, I’m indecent and I’d rather you not look at me.” Tara flies out of the room, with Gale getting his naked body out of the bed shortly after. I am so thankful and blessed that this is my life now, and all the worries from before have faded away.

I’ve adjusted to Gale working at the Academy, and I love that he enjoys doing what he does. For ages, he’s always wanted to accomplish being a professor and teaching magic to others, and that it will be more recognized. He gets ready and begins to head out the door, but pauses for a moment to give me a kiss. The softness and perfection of his lips is enough to get me to go back to sleep, but I have to tend our garden.

“I hope your day is wonderful,” I tell him, staring into his eyes. He gently brushes my dark curly hair out of my face with his fingertips, smiling at me with contentment. The way he touches me, even after all this time of marriage, feels absolutely incredible. I can’t get enough of him. Stop it, Emmy. You will have time alone with him soon enough, it’s nearly the end of the week.

“And yours as well, my love. I will be back before you know it.” My heart already misses his body and soul as I watch him walk out the door.

Waterdeep is still quite an adjustment, but a wonderful one nonetheless. I grew up in a large city, constantly around big parades, circuses, and a bar at every corner. There were children performing magic outside, and vendors selling weapons all throughout the area. Waterdeep? Well, it’s quiet and serene, filled with vast opportunities for knowledge in the arcane and experiences as well. On top of that, it’s spacious and we don’t have to live too close to others, making it a wonderful time for me to start our own garden. I’d also like to point out that the crime rate is ridiculously low.

As Gale is gone for work, I head outside to attend to our garden, growing fresh fruits and vegetables that seem to be growing beautifully. I can smell the intensity of the fruity aroma lingering around in our garden. Our tomatoes and squash are finally grown so I can cook them with our dinner tonight. To the left of our home is the beach, where cobalt blue waters are peacefully residing, the clarity of waves putting my mind in a calm place. I suddenly remember about my strange fear of Krakens, but it hasn’t been as bad as I’m adjusting here with Gale. Waterdeep is much different from home in Baldur’s Gate. Then, out of nowhere, I begin to dissociate as I’m staring deep into the ocean waters. It seems trauma can’t seem to leave my mind. All I can see are the countless bodies I’ve seen, all the innocent lives lost to the Shadows, all the evil that found us no matter where we turned…and how many times I was resurrected from the clutches of death. Emmy, no. You saved Baldur’s Gate. You helped so many people. Think about the lives you’ve saved. I take a deep breath, thinking to myself that it’s all over. I won’t have to deal with that ever again.

Tara flies up next to me as I am harvesting the vegetables from the vines, admiring all the hard work I put into it. Her company fills me with joy, not only because she’s a talking feline, but because she’s so kind. Funny. Wholesome. Oh, and a good species to have for company overall. The very moment I met her I just knew we would get along.

“I know I don’t say it enough, but I am so glad you are part of this family! You are one of the very best things to ever happen to Gale. You’ve kept him alive. You have inspired him to come out of his shell. He’s no longer hungry for power, to become a God. He would’ve left me behind. Power gets the best of us, unfortunately. For that, you are the best to happen to me as well. Thank you.” Tara’s voice is full of gratitude and sincerity, making me love her even more than before. Such a delightful little pet.

“It’s good to hear those words, Tara. Thank you.” I stare deep into the distance where the ocean lies, noticing a strange calmness overwhelm my body as I relax from the tranquility of the environment. Serenity. Peace. That temporary clarity leads to sudden lightheadedness, as if the world around me is spinning aggressively and won’t stop. Every object, every part of nature in front of me, is all a blur and I’m afraid to stand up. I try but end up falling in the dirt. The vertigo only lasts a moment, and I believe it’s because I haven’t eaten yet today. The sudden shift from calmness to feeling extremely dizzy was rapid, making me feel just a little sick to my stomach. I realize shortly that I completely skipped breakfast and it’s almost the afternoon. Where did the time go?

“Emmy, m’dear, are you alright? I think you’ve harvested quite enough today. Plants are watered. The sunshine is out. Let’s go inside, get you some water to drink, hmm? Maybe some lunch?”

“You’re right. I need to eat something.” I don’t think anything of the strange feelings within me, so I manage to get up and walk inside to cook a delicious breakfast for Tara and myself.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Devour and Delight: Roy’s Wedding and Wedding Night

Fandom: Court of Darkness (Roy X MC, MC named Carla)

Rating: First third PG/Sugary sweet; last 2/3 R/Sweetly Spicy (Minors/folks under 18 do not interact please!). The spicier section is in dialogue format.

Description: Roy and MC get hitched—and clearly enjoy their first honeymoon night. Part One to this story here: LINK HERE

Word Count: ~2700

Tags: Wedding; wedding night; fluff; sweet and spicy; soft smut

…

A private ceremony takes place in a garden near the Invidian royal chapel. A little girl clutching a basket marches down the aisle, the frills of her dress bouncing energetically. Roy smiles indulgently as the girl curtsies to him at the altar.

“You performed admirably, Nica.” He adds. “Your excitement mirrors mine.”

“Yay!” Nica runs to her older brother, Rio, who serves as Roy’s best man. She had practiced her flower girl routine diligently for a week. No one had the heart to tell Nica that, in her excitement, she forgot to drop any of the petals.

“Sorry about that mate,” Rio says quietly to Roy after ushering Nica to her seat.

“There is nothing to apologize for, my friend.” Roy eyes Nica’s overflowing flower basket, grinning. “I have a better use for the petals this evening.”

“What use could that be—“ Rio stops himself. Roy’s gaze is transfixed upon seeing Carla.

King Klaus walks Carla down the aisle. “I thought I’d only get this honor with Sherry,” Klaus murmurs, his voice choking. Carla can’t help but be moved that the King is reacting like a proud parent this day, his emotions clearly etched on his face.

The audience witnessing this wedding is small—some palace staff, Rio, Lynt and their immediate families, Sherry, Grayson, and Roy’s parents. The Invidian people and other foreign princes will be present for the public ceremony—and all the royal trappings along with it—in a week’s time. But this day is for Roy and Carla.

Carla can hardly contain her emotions as she grasps Roy’s hand.

“No escaping now,” Carla whispers jokingly, her eyes drinking the sight of him in his suit.

“Escape was never an option for us, Heartspell.”

King Klaus makes a gracious escape and sits next to his wife and daughter Sherry. He’s all but sure from Roy’s lovestruck stare that his son did not remotely register his presence.

“Roy’s brimming with passion. It just took the right woman to unlock it.” Roy’s mother notes fondly to King Klaus.

“If he can keep it unlocked until the ceremony ends!” Sherry giggles.

The officiant intones some very poignant and meaningful words—of which Roy would confess later to not recalling much of at all. He does recall every word of his and Carla’s personal wedding vows. When that time arrives, Carla turns and places a gold ring with an etched rose motif on his finger.

“The world is comprised of darkness and light. For years, I struggled in the dark, seeking a life worth living. But then, you arrived. Thank you for being my light—my source of inspiration and joy. I vow to spend every day giving you the same love and happiness you’ve gifted me. To ease the burdens you carry. To lift your spirits in times of sorrow and doubt.”

A beautiful smile forms on Roy’s face from Carla’s words. He places a diamond ring on her finger before clasping her hands.

“The world may be comprised of light and dark, but you brought color into my life. I love you with all that I am. My soul has transformed from knowing you—your goodness, your kindness, your perseverance. I vow to cherish you for eternity, to be the one you can turn to when you require. To comfort, soothe, and protect in times of need.”

The officiant asks if there are any objections. Carla withholds a giggle when Roy scans the crowd and briefly narrows his eyes as if anyone would object. Her thumb caresses his wrist to soothe his nerves.

The officiant pronounces them man and wife. Carla represses the urge to leap in Roy’s arms due to the audience. Roy senses her hesitation and pulls Carla to him in a tender embrace. As their lips touch, Carla whispers on his lips.

“I love you…husband.”

Time stops briefly. Affections overflow as they gaze into each other’s eyes.

“And I love you...wife.”

There’s a joyous celebration at the Castle. The festivities blur in a series of dances, feasting, and good natured ribbing of Roy and Carla being unable to keep their eyes off each other. The moment King Klaus and Queen Charlotte leave, Roy makes his excuses, picks Carla up in his arms, and dashes away.

Carla: Roy! So impatient! Her voice echoes the hallway. What will people say?

Roy: Patience would be rather unusual at present. It is not as if tonight’s plans are a secret. Roy smirks while carrying Carla towards their chambers. Upon feeling her cheeks blaze, his voice lowers. I have the most beautiful wife in my arms. All I desire is to spend time with her.

Carla: Define spend time. Carla nuzzles her nose against his neck as Roy opens their chamber door. I have some ideas…

Roy: Roy chuckles at her coyness. His eyes close briefly at feeling of Carla’s breath against his neck. He steps inside their chambers and locks the door.

Well then, please enlighten me.

Roy puts Carla on the ground. His thumb traces her jawline before lifting her chin towards his gaze. His eyes reflect adoration, love, and rising heat. Carla’s thoughts scatter at his look.

Carla: Roy…She is overwhelmed. A part of her wonders if she closes her eyes if she’ll find this day, nay their entire relationship, nothing more than a dream. She grasps Roy’s free hand. It’s real, solid, radiating warmth. His fingers curl against hers on instinct.

Allow me to burn this beautiful image of you in my mind. Please.

Roy: His eyes widen with surprise—he has been called fair of face by many, but none have mattered before meeting Carla. His expression softens.

Take your time. The corner of his mouth quirks. Please inform me if I pass your inspection.

Carla: She walks a full circle around Roy, eyes roaming up and down from the tips of his shoes to the top of his head. Roy breathes heavier at her examination.

It’s not everyday a girl marries the most handsome prince in Saligia—inside and out. Her voice trails as her arms wrap around Roy’s back.

Roy: He embraces Carla softly, resting his head on top of hers. You understand you've completely melted me, yes?

Carla: You’re standing upright, so not ALL of you has melted. She kicks off her heels and nuzzles against his chest.

Roy: He is determined to make this a night she’ll never forget. One of joy, of gallantry—

Carla: How about we unwrap our…wedding presents? Her fingers untuck shirttails from Roy’s pants so she can caress his sides.

Roy: …gallantry be damned.

Carla: Her hands wander to Roy’s shoulders as she removes his jacket. Carla hums in approval as Roy’s hands travel up her back and slowly undo her dress.

I REALLY despise buttons. Her hands shake as the top three buttons of Roy’s shirt are undone. There is an innate satisfaction in unveiling one another’s skin with their own hands versus using magic—even if their wedding attire consists of the tiniest most cumbersome buttons in existence. Her lips lap Roy’s chest as more skin is exposed. Carla’s wedding dress falls to the ground in a pool of fabric.

Roy: You are exquisite. Beyond exquisite. Heartspell. I love you.

There are more eloquent ways to express these overflowing emotions. But, those are the words that matter.

Carla: Though they’ve come together many times before, this feels different. Her skin is covered in goosebumps as Roy’s fingers trace her curves. His touch is revenant yet burning. When Carla finally gets Roy’s shirt off, she gasps as she’s lifted in his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist, their kisses quickly becoming ravenous. Roy walks to the bed and lowers Carla down, his lips never leaving hers.

Carla’s hands drift to Roy’s waist to take off what remains of his attire. Despite their passionate sounds, Carla can’t help laughing as Roy kicks his shoes off with serious impatience.

And YOU may hate shoes as much as I hate buttons! Even as she laughs, her lips seek Roy’s body vigorously.

Roy: He half laughs, half growls in impatience. His hands finally remove the few articles of clothing clinging to their bodies.

Believe me, you’re well worth the effort of unraveling, dear wife. Roy groans as their lips devour each other, caressing said and unsaid desires.

Carla: Her fingers dig into his rose gold locks. Oh God Roy…

Roy: He moans at her touch, her body, her heart—it is pure heaven. His hands travel up her thighs, tracing every inch, seeking her heat.

Carla: This…this is a problem. She murmurs softly against his lips and neck. I want this moment to continue, but your fingers…oh, just like THAT.

Carla’s fingers dig into his shoulders as Roy’s fingers concentrate on her most sensitive spot, lightly at first and then encircling intently.

Roy: He laughs softly as she murmurs against him. Roy’s touches become all-consuming, her reactions driving him wild.

Just like this…yes? Roy feigns his questioning tone. He knows Carla loves it.

Carla: Her legs quiver from the sensations of Roy’s fingers in her. Carla feels rather than sees Roy smirk as his head is buried against her neck.

Roy, I…her eyes close as she becomes undone by his touch.

Roy: You already need me this much? He grins at her body’s quivering, the lurid wet sound of his fingers loving her. While he wants to savor his Carla, the wanton desire on her lips fuels a need to make her delirious with pleasure. Roy continues to twirl and pump his fingers the way she enjoys it until he brings Carla to her peak.

Carla: Her body convulses against Roy, her mind going blank. Carla clinches his shoulders and cries his name, lips pressed against the top of his head. Her body sinks in the bedsheets in the aftermath.

Roy…though her limbs still shake, Carla pulls Roy closer to her. She should not be the only one delighted this night. Plus, Carla wants to replace the slightly smug look on Roy’s face with another expression. She whispers in his ear.

Your turn. Her hands slide towards Roy’s waist, tracing light circles on his hips and upper thighs.

Roy: He groans softly in anticipation, his mind clouding as Carla pulls him closer. Roy’s breath is shallow and short, Carla’s fingers sending his body into overdrive.

Carla: I’m not the only one in need it seems. Carla purrs against his skin. One arm encircles Roy’s waist while the other tantalizes his length. Her lips press a wet trail across his upper chest and neck.

Just like this…yes? Carla mimics Roy’s previous teasing tone. Her face is flushed, but seeing Roy slowly come apart is an absolute treat. Her tongue swirls on his chest as her hand moves faster on him.

Roy: He groans as Carla’s tongue and fingers perform wonders. Carla’s name falls from his lips, as if it’s the only thing he can utter. Roy is certain his heart will explode from Carla’s ministrations. His hands clinch the bedsheets, his vocalizations intensifying.

Carla: And now to test how soundproof our chambers are.

She nips his neck, stroking him faster still until he comes undone. Carla takes her other hand and glides her fingertips across his whitening knuckles until they relax into her touch. Light kisses now cover bite marks in soothing pecks as Roy recovers.

Roy: Her actions send him to a point where he doesn’t care if the whole Castle hears him. His voice cries out and his body shakes and slumps. A towel is magically summoned to their bed.

It appears we both need this, Heartspell. Roy chuckles ruefully, wiping their bodies as he catches his breath. Carla rests her head on his chest. A smile spreads across her face when Roy drops a kiss on her forehead.

Carla: It appears so.

Carla breathes in a mingled scent of sweat and roses—Roy always smells sweet Carla thinks. She drapes an arm across his torso and lets a comfortable silence remain between them before speaking.

I said you were handsome in your suit Roy. But I prefer what you wear now. Carla can’t see Roy’s face from her position, but she can easily imagine his cheeks turning pink.

Roy: Is that so? Even when I am all...sweaty like this?

Carla: Yes. It’s you in your most natural state—no political trappings, no formal words, no masks. Just you and your heart exposed. Her speech is a bit sentimental so she tacks on an addendum. And no one else gets to see your pretty body and reactions but me. I rather like that.

Roy: He responds back in a teasing tone. You just had the best view then, did you not?

Carla: Carla buries her head against Roy’s chest and laughs heartily. Cheeky man.

Roy: I can never resist teasing my gorgeous wife.

Carla: You couldn’t resist teasing when I was your consort or fiancé, you know.

Roy: Well, you make it so easy. How am I supposed to ignore teasing someone as beautiful as you?

Carla: Carla sits up, looking down at Roy in mock indignation. Oh, so it’s MY fault?

Roy: Of course it is. Who else's could it be?

Carla: Perhaps, JUST PERHAPS, the rascal prince I’ve married!

She throws a pillow in Roy’s direction, but then notices rose petals on it. She scans her surroundings and sees the bed and most of the carpet sprinkled with rose petals, the room cast in a golden light from numerous candles.

Roy… Carla gestures to candles and roses. You sweet man…. Her cheeks turn pink.

Roy: His eyes catch Carla’s glances at the room. It’s a cute reaction he’s compelled to play with. Roy sits up, grabs another pillow, and tosses it towards Carla. Oh, did you just notice the candles and flowers?

Carla: YES! She deflects the pillow.

Roy: You can thank Nica for supplying the petals. A much better use of them I dare say. Roy smirks and tucks a strand of hair behind Carla’s ear. Too bad you didn’t see them until now. Were you distracted?

Carla: I was as distracted as YOU were! Or were our moans not indicative of this?

Roy: You do inspire quite the response from me. His fingers caress the back of Carla’s neck. And here I thought I was a good, quiet boy.

Carla: HA! She launches herself so Roy’s on his back and she’s lying on top of him. You’re good in another context though…

Roy: And what context is that?

Carla: The “your wife wants to pounce you” context. Carla straddles Roy’s hips enticingly and presses her lips to his.

Roy: Her playful desire envelopes Roy. Their kisses grow intense, thorough, and ravenous. They crave without hesitation or restraint. Roy twines his fingers in Carla’s hair and uses momentum to flip their positions. His hips move against hers, entering her in one smooth powerful stroke. They gasp at the instant fireworks unleashed.

Carla: She is mesmerized—his lips, his touch, the way he yearns for more intimacy, the blaze of Roy’s golden eyes as they give into the moment of being husband and wife in every sense of the word.

Roy…Carla hopes he can feel the passion she has for him. More.

Roy: Roy calls out to her, eyes aflame, skin on fire. He presses further into her, their rhythm increasing rapidly.

Feel me. With all that I am.

Lips devour, seeking her everything—her cries, her sighs, the words she tries to express. Roy tries slowing their pace to prolong the moment, but it’s no use. Carla matches his pace, digging her fingers against his back as the pounding pressure crescendos. Roy encircles one arm under Carla’s waist and tips her slightly upwards, pressing further until they hurdle over the edge together, their voices crying out.

Carla: She feels Roy collapse on her shoulder. They roll onto their sides, clinging to one another. Carla maneuvers her position slightly. She closes her eyes and slowly massages Roy’s scalp, his head resting between her breasts.

Ahhh, so this is what happens when we pounce each other.

Roy: Yes, and your claws are truly sharp.

Carla: What would people say if they knew WHY their prince was so tired now? Her words are soft.

Roy: He murmurs. They would understand it was due to our constant pouncing. Very constant.

Carla: Carla yawns, her fingers slowing to a stop.

Roy: Roy moves back upwards, gathering Carla in his arms. Rest up Heartspell. There’s still the rest of the honeymoon to enjoy. He runs his fingers through her hair, savoring her presence, until they both succumb to slumber.

[wonderland173]

oh baby, i’ll love you like the end of the world.

darlin’, let me worship you like the god i never learned to trust. you once told me that a previous lover of yours had called you forever beautiful. allow me to add to that. you are forever a collector of wind chimes, the quiet ones that sound like distant church bells. you are forever a gardener, with your little tulips out in the yard. you are forever a crier, tears streaming down your face as you see the stubborn little goldfish-princess finally find her perfect family.

sweetheart, your soul calls to me and mine responds in a tongue only the two of them know. i will forever hang the wind chimes on the door frames you can’t reach. i will forever water your tulips on the days that are harsh to you. i will forever cry with you at the little goldfish-princess learning how to love. and i will forever pass you the tissues and popcorn to soothe your sensitive soul.

my love, did you know I never wanted to marry before meeting you? the women in my family had convinced me that love was a shameful secret. that marriage was a business, first and foremost, where women tended to get the short end of the stick. i knew by the age of eleven, that no one man would ever want to listen to me babble about mushrooms for hours or dance in the rain with me after dark. but then you came along, wildheart, and you fulfilled every desire in my foolish, lovesick heart. i want nothing more than to grow old with you, watching our children run amok in the yard and babbling about mushrooms like i have since the day we first met.

honey, just like the little goldfish-princess, you taught me how to love. i used to love recklessly and fleetingly, with my heart never settling on one stance. then, one day, i looked across a crowded room and there you were, the light of my life. to love you is to know that i would trade away the heavens themselves for a kiss goodnight. to love you is to understand I would bite eve’s apple time and time again, dooming all of womankind, just for you to graze upon me lovingly. baby, darling, sweetheart, all words to describe you, a lovebird who has enchanted me far, far away from my meaningless life.

my angel, my love for you is a creation story, in and of itself.

[definegodliness]

Still frames and slow-motion pictures

I wonder if you keep an eye out, now the world comes alive in all its mesmerising colours, and I hope you are not too busy to witness all that longs bloom; how it now buttons, or blossoms already. 

There was a former life wherein you held nature sacred. Every season would be deeply experienced. But, as they change, so, you have changed; taking paths I cannot follow. I suppose, to you, the everyday comings and goings of Mother Nature have turned to matter little. Yet, spring's arrival is such a profound moment... the past might rattle its chains in your heart's cage. As it does within mine, ridding me with questions: 

Do you have time to take it all in? Do you take the time? Does time still bend to your soul’s will, in craving creating still frames, or a slowed pace, all to savour these moments of humbly delighting in existence? 

Tell me you haven't lost your link with the world you re-enchanted. For it is as such that I now watch the world come to bloom, attentively enchanted; watching the flowers I tend to, thinking of you. Nothing all too meaningful. Simply reminiscing the still frames, captured, and all the slow-motion pictures. 

I walk the garden, pensive, as I am; reflecting there is something vulnerable and intimate in watching the flower beds filled with tulips. Witnessing each stage of their slow unfurling, day by day. And for some reason it makes me think of the way you'd put on your tights in the morning. The crumpling and fiddling to make them fit around your feet; the stretching of your legs making the soft skin of your thighs disappear beneath the dark fabric. Then, that cute little butt wiggle, that always felt so endearing to me, because I was the only one who got to see you at your thoughtless loveliness.

I remember your smile as you lowered your skirt. Never really sure why I would gaze at you, eyes opened wide; never figuring I was so mesmerised. Rather guessing I’d deem your fumbling humorous. I did. But never more than I’d deem you magic. And, in my head, or by my soul, I captured your essence in still frames and slow-motion pictures.

There’s many a reason why I think of you — feel you — when the flowers bloom, but that shared blissful unawareness of innate wondrousness resonates deepest. You’d be surprised how many memories live inside me wherein you aren’t trying to be, but are simply being. Therein, utterly lovely, and endearing. Yes, beautiful. You’d be suprised how often your presence had me humbly delighting in existence. And how, now, when I walk this Earth, feeling but a glimpse of such profoundness, a little light and love seeps in.

You are my joy of living.

---

8-4-2023, M.A. Tempels ©

[the-trash-eating-llama]

Dear diary,

It’s me, David, and I think it’s about time I told you a story.

Two lands, divided by one river.

The land of the east was prosperous, ruled by farmers who each owned land, tending their plots and helping neighbours during the colder months. But the lands didn’t care for these farmers, as every nine years a beast of bone and cloth would reign havoc across each acre of the east. It would tear open their houses, steal their food and uproot their farms, leaving the lands just as barren as they were before the farmers arrived.

So, they would rebuild, they would replant their futures, they would enjoy their harvests, and be harvested themselves by the malevolent force they couldn’t stop.

It was a simple life in the east, but a degrading one for those who could not bear the suffering of never seeing a full decade of harvest. And for those people, they could only find refuge from their dread by leaving their families, their belongings, and their lives to cross the river.

By all accounts, the river was not more than six feet wide, flowing gently down the side of the ground. Too wide to jump safely, but unassuming in nature.

That was where the accounts diverged.

Some would claim that a troll had built a bridge, but wouldn’t let you cross if it found you smelly. Some sighted a massive cloud that hung over the water at all times, waiting to strike any poor soul who dared cross it. Others told stories of seeing a creature made purely of rock climbing out of the river and attacking would-be crossers if they dared look at the golem.

So now, diary, what if I told you that I’m from that land?

It may strike you as odd, having only seen the prosperous avenues of concrete that dominate the skies of the west, but it’s true.

I crossed the river.

By the time I had grown up, I had become tired of feasting on fields of what could have been, so I left.

I wrote a note telling my family I was done, and left in the night, which in hindsight was my smartest move that day, because it took until day to reach the river alone.

Having no supplies and only the clothes on my back was, I admit, not my best choice, but if I hadn’t been so irrational, I may have missed my fate.

“Hey, lass, what are you doin’ so close to ðe river at ðis time of night?” A voice rang out in the cold silence of the morning.

I whirled around, and there she was. If this was the troll or golem, whomever described her as such was not more than the vilest slanderer.

No, the voice came from a woman, average height, stocky, flowing dark brown hair, and the skin of a setting sun. Her clothes were not much different from mine, overalls, a grey shirt, the only difference really was that she wasn’t wearing shoes.

It was the woman of the river, she was jogging straight towards me.

“Pardon me,” I said, blown away by her beauty. “Do you know how to cross the river?”

She looked at me with a haggard grin, like she was hoping I’d say something different.

“I suppose I would, why? You lookin’ to cross?” She shouted, slowly closing the distance, until we were only five feet apart.

“Yes! Could you show me how?” I asked. It was time, it was finally time! I would be across, and a whole world would be open to me!

“What for?”

That took me by surprise.

“What? Why wouldn’t I? The lands of the east are raided every decade! We can never truly grow! Back there, everyday has been prechewed by those before I was born. I’m tired of living a recycled life!” I yelled, at the edge of madness.

How could she not see it? My pain, my shortcomings, all of it was because of those lands and that damned beast!

“And what of your passions?” She asked, simply.

“What of them? I like to write, but there is nothing to write about when your experiences have already been perfectly articulated by those before you. And my garden? No different than the fifteen acres of people who live the exact same life. I’ve had enough, I want passage.”

“So, you wish to leave your lands of safety… for some fresh air?” She asked, half amused, and half understanding. All it came across as was belittling.

“You wouldn’t understand!” I shouted in desperation.

“Wouldn’t I? I have travelled this river my entire existence, walking, running, sprinting, crawling. This river never ends, you can trust me. I have only ever travelled in this direction, constantly chasing the idea of a bridge across, and what do I get? Thirty of your people each day asking the same inane question!” She shouted, then sitting down to sulk. Whether her cry was to me or not was left unclear, but I didn’t care.

“I could take you with me.”

She jumped up, surprised by my assertion.

“You…I… no one has ever offered.” She mumbled, staring at me like I would disappear if she blinked, like she’d wake up from a dream.

“Would you want me to?” I asked softly, holding out my hand.

“I…I…” She stuttered, trying to understand the prospect.

I kept eye contact, “You don’t have to, but I think a change of pace is what we both want.”

She slowly reached out, then grabbed my hand, like a scared animal. Her skin was soft, like silk, not made to endure. She needed to cross just as much as I did, but our worlds couldn’t be more different.

Both our worlds melted away, they were nothing more than spent breath to us now, as we both looked on, hand in hand, and ran, jumped, and landed.

Wherever we landed, we were to land together, and we did.

So, diary, how’d you like my story?

My children still don’t believe it, they think that the land of the east isn’t any more real than fairies and dragons.

Strange how the past can distort itself in the minds of its children, I hope mine still got the message.

But every journal must end, as you know very well, diary, for this is your last page.

We have known each other for long enough, but your pages still hold enough memories to fill a library.

I hope I’m as helpful as you were to me.

Good night, diary.

Sincerely,

David.

[pxgeturner]

so this is love, in the garden — reimagined!jacques le gris

a gentleman stumbles upon a secret area of the palace garden, and sings a duet with an invisible maiden.

an. so. um. yeah this is my first piece in a reaaallll long time. and yeah it’s jacques. but this is not like, canon jacques. this is my version of jacques, a ladies man, naturally, but not necessarily a gentlemen in all aspects of life. he is not in any way a villain. when i tell you i was SO EXICTED for the last duel, i was ecstatic to have adam play a knight-in-shining-armor types, i had no idea that the movie was going to be… that (😖) so my brain blocked that out and put jacques into a reign!au/crossover so.. um yeah.. hopefully some ppl like this.

wc. 456

you wandered about the secret secluded area of the garden you call “yours”. of course, it is not yours but the crown’s. but no one ever comes here and you do not even think that the king nor the queen is aware of this spot's existence, as it is at the very edge of the garden, almost wood. there is a pond and two flower beds as well as a hedge that hides it all. you suppose not a soul besides you knows of this alcove. people think the hedge marks the end of the garden. this might be the king’s garden, but this is your secret space.

you lay at the edge of the water, dipping your fingers, singing a simple melody. you start to sing of the thing your soul craves.

“so this is love,

so this is love

so this is what makes life, divine

i’m all aglow—

and now i know—”

“and now i know,” a deep, attractive voice startles you. you cover your mouth and just barely stop yourself from rolling over into the pond.

“the key to all heaven is mine,” you sing together. you hear heavy footfall near your oasis.

“my heart has wings

and i can fly—”

he’s about to round the hedge. you can’t let him see you- you don’t know why, you just can’t. so you pick yourself up, and tuck yourself into the shrub. you’ve hidden in it before, once or twice when you want a complete guarantee of privacy. the greenery leaves no hint of your presence, your skirts tucked neatly under you.

as you start the last verse together, he discovers your place. you peer at him through the branches and leaves. he’s tall, very tall. with long hair and a broad frame. you recognize him. the new lord that has joined court. lord le gris. jacques, you think his name is.

you didn’t think he was one for singing.

“i’ll touch every star in the sky.

so, this is the miracle

that i've been dreaming of.

so… this, is, love—”

part of you wanted him to find you. maybe he’d scoop you out of the bush, help you fix your gown, and pick any twigs or leaves out of your hair. you’ve heard of how charming he is to the ladies of the court. you haven’t met him yet, as you are busy tending to queen mary.

“mademoiselle, where did you go?”

you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you.

“will i hear from you again?” you gave him a soft melody as an answer. he rounds the pond, looking at the flowers.

“you have the voice of an angel. hopefully you would soon allow me to see the face of one as well.”

You can’t wait to meet lord le gris.

[naamahdarling]

Do any of your blorbos have a favourite meal? Or a favourite category of food?

I HIGHLY recommend giving your OCs (or ascribing to canon characters) relationships to food, as that also touches on relationships to family and culture, and even themselves.

Every single one of mine has pretty defined tastes.

Gowan (Blorbo Prime at the moment) has really broad tastes since he grew up poor, eating a lot of things wealthier people would think are pretty gross. His catastrophic rise to fame as a music star did not refine his palate. Maybe he hates certain things, but he always eats what's in front of him without a single complaint. His homeworld's cuisine is honestly pretty bland, but he still has affection for it, and he loves the more complex flavors of his boyfriend's homeworld's cuisine. He also likes the kinds of things you tend to find as street food. He will absolutely patronize the nastiest-looking hole in the wall places you have ever seen because they have one incredible dish.

Kell is a chef/baker and when he retires from adventuring, opens his own food cart in his fun island pirate setting. He doesn't need the profits, his considerable adventurer's fortune is hidden under a huge slab under a huge anvil he uses as a side table in his living room, so he just uses the profits to feed folks who need it. He likes sweet and savory meat dishes, sweet breads and rolls, cooks-in-dish things like paella, and nice hearty stew, and he dislikes almost nothing if it's prepared well.

Ariel likes classic Southern soul food, junk food, huge burritos, and his mom's incredible cooking (Iranian cuisine). Mage and demon hunter, moonlights (daylights?) at Penguin Hut, an ice cream shop. He's kind of just a big kid at heart, his tastes are basic, more expensive or experimental food is largely lost on him. He will eat all your garden tomatoes.

Boogie (Bougainvillea) is just a shop cat at Penguin Hut, but she's in a kids' talking cat game, so she's basically a person. She eats bugs and likes kibble, she likes the crunch, and is grossed out by warm-blooded prey because she wasn't raised by other cats who ate it. She has a french fry compulsion and loves ice cream -- Ariel has trouble keeping her out of the ice cream shop's coolers. She is a little bit gluttonous, and correspondingly round, but her many adventures and her daily run to the shop keep her very healthy.

There's more, but that's a lot. But yeah, get into food with your settings and characters. It says a lot about them and how they move through the world. It also introduced you to new concepts to try out!

[revenantghost]

[20 Question Fic Writer Game]

Tagged by @faindri and @pancake-breakfast!

How many works do you have on AO3?

18! Most are poetry collections, so a lot of smaller stories in one anthology.

What is your AO3 word count?

75,144

What fandoms do you write for?

Trigun is my main squeeze atm (and biggest in general, I have four projects for it which is double anything else--and the highest wordcount, too), but I've written for KinnPorsche, Sabikui Bisco, Danny Phantom, Vampire In The Garden, Sasaki to Miyano, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Goncharov (yeah... yeah), The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, Signalis, Omori, Lycoris Recoil, and The Executioner and Her Way of Life

What are your top five fics by kudos?

No idea and I ain't looking! Trad publishing has me extremely scarred from some nasty comparison wars, so I have kudo and view counts blocked on ALL fics, including mine. From my kudos emails, though, Hallowboned has to be my top fic for sure. Last time I was paying attention most of my other fics didn't pass into triple digits by a long shot

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!!! I adore comments, and I love chatting with folks, it really keeps me motivated and chugging along. I am... very behind on replying to the comments on my last chapter rn because I feel so awful and guilty about having to quit writing

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uh... I don't write a ton of narrative fics, and I do love me some tragic poetry, but I guess the angstiest collection might be my Signalis one, Observable System Transcendence? But my Omori poem and the Trined Soul collection might be contenders, too

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, Trembling Hands is a Trimax fix-it fic, so? Though the Sasaki and Miyano collection, Effortless Dreams, is definitely the most tooth-rotting fluff I've ever slapped onto the page

Do you get hate on fics?

Oh yeah, I've had my poetry called pretentious and also not good enough to be poetry lol. It's been a hot minute since that's happened, people are just jerks sometimes

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I used to! Porn with plot, my beloved. It would be interesting to explore in poetry format, but we'll see if I have the time who wants to commission some poetry porn from me lmao

Do you write crossovers?

Nah, not my cuppa

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, many moons ago

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that is one of the coolest things fandom does. Loving a thing so much you spend the time to painstakingly transform that art into something you can read and share in another language, bro??? Translators are amazing

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I've worked pretty closely with artists a loooong time ago, but I've only written fics where I'm the sole writer. I have used other writers' ideas and outlines (with their permission, of course), but that's the closest

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I DON'T KNOW?!?! Shipping has never really been my main focus of media typically, but when one digs its teeth into me I go rabid in a completely feral but different way each time.

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

))): All of them

Life feels kinda... really dire atm, it's hard to see ever writing again. However! God I want to finish Hallowboned SO BADLY!!! I have so many chapters written for it that I haven't even posted!!!!! Y'all haven't met Livio yet!!!!!! GAH 3:

What are your writing strengths?

Uh... ??? I'll be real, I've got no idea. I feel like I write so weirdly atm, it's hard for me to analyze in that kinda way

What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to get really excited/into things and flit around and forget to explain or describe things sometimes. Thank god for having been well-trained to edit my own work. Not that I catch it all, but I try!!!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it'd really cool, but I'd need a native speaker on hand to make sure I don't fuck it up in my own fic

First fandom you wrote for?

I think my first piece of written fanwork was a Danny Phantom Quizilla thing lmao, I'm old. I don't remember what it was about, just that it was ANGSTY

Favourite fic you've ever written?

Ah?!?! Honestly, each project is so different and written from such a different place, I've got no idea. I'm proudest of Observable System Transcendence being my longest, most consistent project (outside of my Smaugust collection, which isn't a fan project), Hallowboned being the first thing that really inspired me in ages--and the most indulgent one lol. But each collection and fic and poem comes from such a different place, and it's hard to pull them apart and pick???

Tagging:

Whoever wants to hop in! :3

[wannafeel-you]

Hiya Jay:D

I was wondering if you could answer 2, 11, 23, 25 and 27 for the soft asks if you don’t mind!

-femme who hasn’t sent you an anon before so is kinda nervous ngl… would you mind if I claimed 🍒 anon?

hey heyyy!! and of course i will:

2: What is your go to comfort show?

it took a long time for me to decide this one simply because i tend not to rewatch shows but i realised that it would probably be my childhood cartoons. so i’d have to say Teen Titans, Phineas & Ferb, and Gravity Falls are my go-to’s.

11: Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

my mama likes jewellery and when she learned that i actually didn’t hate wearing it, i just preferred more simple things, the first thing she gave me was this jade ring. it’s a simple solid band of jade and i used to wear it everywhere, like i never took it off except for when i was rock climbing. and then one day, my fingers got too big from climbing and it wouldn’t fit on any of my fingers properly anymore. i was really sad about it so she gave me a small chain to loop it on. and now i wear that ring on a necklace everywhere i go to keep it close because my mama believes it protects my soul and keeps me balanced. and it makes her happy to see it so that’s a bonus. i often find that when i feel uneasy about it i end up fiddling with it and it does actually make me feel a little better.

23: Have you ever received flowers?

i have not!! i think i would really love to though. unfortunately i’m sure they wouldn’t last long despite my best efforts but the thought of receiving flowers is really sweet. i tend to be the giver of flowers rather than the recipient but that’s okay too

25: If your soul was a color, what would it be?

i had to think really hard about this because i was thinking about what the meanings of the colours were but then i realised it’s a bit limiting to restrict myself to one that way. but long story short, i think my soul is a sunset orange colour — you know the ones where it’s started to go a little pink/purple too. i’m really connected to these sunsets too, whenever i see them i just have to stop and stare for a while

27: Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

i’m not sure. it’s been years since i seriously did any gardening with plants instead of renovating the space by pulling things up. i would love to tend to the plants and grow them instead of tearing the place up but i genuinely don’t know. but my fondest gardening memory was from my earlier years at school; we were given a project to grow a sunflower! and mine ended up growing to like 2-3 meters. it was so tall (especially to tiny me) that the head became too heavy and started to fall over so we had to throw it away in the end. but i was so proud to see it grow successfully and it was so so pretty. so yeah, maybe i would like to do more gardening in the future. it would give me a good reason to get outdoors too!!

thank you for the lovely questions 🍒 darling, i had a lot of fun thinking about these ones!! and don’t be nervous, i love my anons :))

[raeofthelight]

🫂 🧠 🪻 🌻🥊🐚

🫂 If you wanna hug me approach it like you're capturing a stray cat. I have raebies.

🧠 Oh buddy I can ramble. When the alignment of the moon is correct. And you're pretending not to listen so I don't feel perceived. In those circumstances I can ramble like a...uh....something that rambles alot. (For further study on this subject please refer to the tag #raerambles as well as the tags in general of anything Rae reblogs)

🪻 Sneezing over this flower sorry did I lose cool points.

🌻 I'm not crying over what you said I just tripped in the sunflower field and got speared by the garden shears in my hand

🥊 Lets beat up an eldritch stranger together

🐚 Sorry about the soul connection but when you're friends with the devil that tends to happen. Don't worry. Once I've fully absorbed your soul into mine you won't notice anything. At all. Ever again.

https://www.tumblr.com/raeofthelight/761007651062775808?source=share

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

Jiraak OC relationship ask: 5, 31, 32, 38, 40, 61 and 100! (only if it’s no trouble! I’m incredibly nosy :3)

I LOVE NOSY!!! BE NOSY ALL YOU LIKE!!! Thank you so much for asking about my stupid blorbos!!! 💖🥺

💕ask game💕

5. What is something they like to do together?

Ah, many things! Firstly, I can see them enjoying learning from each other since they're both very inquisitive—Jia teaches Miraak alchemy, while he teaches her magic, mostly restoration and alteration. They like cooking together (Miraak's not there yet, but he tries okay; he loves eating though! 🥲), and they even like to stay close in comfortable silence; I promise, though, Jia loves it when listens to him humming Atmoran shanties and/or psalms from his Dragon Priest era! Having been out of Apocrypha, she knows he'd appreciate walks in the sun and picnics in the frosty woods by Heljarchen Hall, as well as gazing at the aurora and the stars at night, feeding the birds nestling in her roof tiles, tending the flowers in her garden, and generally, being reintroduced to the world with her helping him remember every single detail...🥰

31. How would they describe one another.

Due to the nature of their soul bond (which hasn't been clarified completely in my fic yet...👀) I can only imagine them describing one another the way Emily Bronte did it in Wuthering Heights, which is to say not so romantic, but with a tint of pain and inevitability instead:

“He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and we were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger. He’s always, always in my mind; not as a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”

32. Can they communicate private thoughts whilst in company? If so, how?

I mean,,, they can read each other's minds if they try hard enough! There's a scene in my fic where Miraak just. skims through Jia's memories and almost uncovers her worst fear (wow, rude much, Miraak? 😤). Also, they tend to recognize each other's mannerisms. For example, Jia has very specific ways she moves when she's nervous, angry, excited, etc, and Miraak, being very observant, knows how to interpret them even if she can't speak her mind at a specific moment, and vice versa.

38. What would be their ideal evening in?

So, both in Heljarchen Hall and Breezehome, Jia has purposely left a piece of her wooden canopy a little open (just so, she can't stand the cold!), so the light of the night sky always slips right into her room. I imagine an ideal evening in would be her lying in bed with Miraak, both moonbathed, talking to each other, discussing everything, good and bad, tales and real segments of their lives, until the night eventually turns into day, and instead of starlight/moonglow, they are cloaked by the warmth of the sunlight and birbs' chirps...🥰

40. THE OLD WITCH SLEEP AND THE GOOD MAN GRACE BY THE AMAZING DEVIL.

Their shared trauma, their pain, their despair, their attempts to give strength to one another ["You're better than this" He says as a hand slaps my face and I stand And say, "No good man grace" I can't do this (you can)] AND ["Oh, sleep now," oh, she pleads "You're not a coward 'cause you cower You're brave because they broke you Yet broken still you breathe So breathe, breathe, just breathe"]

Not to mention the "'Cause you are in the earth of me", which for Plot Significance makes me jump around like a monkey. Ough. Just Ough...

61. How would they describe their S/O in one word?

Miraak for Jia: ember (a smouldering one...👀)

Jia for Miraak: angel (a bit fallen and corrupted but an angel nonetheless 😅)

100. Make a meme of this ship.

I am a bad Meme Maker myself, but I stumbled upon a Perfect Jiraak Meme on Pinterest, which is this right here and has a very "give me your hand" "I'll stain you" "I'll take it" vibe:

This also goes either way, for both.

[jackkatzz]

Woah! Coffee anon here again! Congratulations to you and your now husband!!

Thank youuuuuu!!! Technically speaking, we're just engaged now ^^;; but we have been referring to eachother as husbands for a lil bit now ^^ as @solunest and I are just very gay and soft and mushy

I am very excited to spend my life with this dork. He is sweet, kind, funny, handsome as all get out, and we genuinely just sink into eachother and are cozy together in a way I've not experienced with anyone else before. Like I'm usually EXTREMELY touch repulsed, but we are glued to eachother when possible and I am constantly thinking about holding his hands and giving them kisses.

We're both just obsessed with eachother and constantly encouraging eachother and caring and teaching eachother. Never have I met a more patient man who doesn't just listen to me ramble because it's what he's "supposed to do" but because he's genuinely interested in what I'm rambling about. Never have I met a more compassionate man who is gentle and kind around old mental wounds and my traumatic past.

He's the Sun and the Moon and the Stars. He's the gentle hands of the gardener tending the wild thorns that ensnare the garden of my soul. He's the bright expanding force of the cosmos above that holds the secrets of gentle love and tender kisses. He's the soft warmth of a sunset sinking below a valley full of flowers. He's the warm cinnamon and caramelized honey of his eyes, gazing at me as if I'm the only thing in the room that matters. He's every iota and every gargantuan feeling of inspiration and tenderness that burns in my heart and head. He is tenderness, after having not known much of it in my life. He is brave and kind and strong and sweet.

I carry his love next to my heart, as if to hold his very own heart in my chest, keeping it safe and shielded from all that may maim or harm it.

Apologies.. I gushed a bit there..

But yes, thank you! I am very excited to eventually marry this dork of mine and be dumb and gay together for as long as we are granted life on this earth.