#i wrote today. 😭😭

[theragamuffininitiative]

💻

[myokk]

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

from my oneshot🫶🫶🫶

I just really wanted to draw these two idiots😭💘

[mothhue]

Happy trans day of visibility everyone :D

[willowser]

bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.

[loganslowdown4]

Me (as Virgil today incorrect quote): I’m going to my room-

Actual Virgil (today): I’m just gonna go to my room—

I SWEAR TO GOD GUYS I DIDN’T KN—

[ch1zzie]

I'm in other places too:]

[rottenpumpkin13]

Can we get an angsty scenario of Rufus having a nightmare about Sephiroth? Or Sephiroth tormenting him in his dreams? (Post-rebirth after Rufus goes nuts and empties his gun into the Glenn/cloak thingy)

This was going to be shorter, but then the Rufus angst sneaked up on me and now we have p a i n ; enjoy

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Regret wasn't acquainted with regret; after all, his veins coursed with the blood, sweat, and tears poured into Shinra's relentless pursuit of power and profit. To suggest he harbored regret for his actions in Wutai that day would be overly optimistic and insincere, even for him.

The aftermath had indeed been uncomfortable, he conceded—sitting through the debriefing with members of SOLDIER and the Turks alike, rehashing the events in excruciating detail as Sephiroth’s glare bore into him with a scathing intensity.

For the first time in Rufus’ memory, Sephiroth sat alone. Typically, Angeal and Genesis flanked him, but fate had intervened, and Rhapsodos had deserted, swiftly followed by Hewley, leaving Sephiroth to occupy his seat utterly alone.

How was Rufus to know that Sephiroth had any connection to Lodbrok? All he had been aware of were the desertions of SOLDIERs Glenn, Matt, and Lucia following the mission to Rhadore years ago, when Sephiroth was still a young boy.. Rufus didn't doubt that Sephiroth had formed some attachment to them; after all, he had read the reports detailing how Sephiroth had defied orders and had been aboard the stolen chopper en route to the rapidly vanishing island. The reports contained snippets of additional information, mentioning a child named Rosen and alluding to Sephiroth facing consequences after his betrayal, but beyond that, the details remained sparse.

Even if Rufus had been privy to the full extent of the situation, he wouldn't have cared—or so he told himself. Glenn's death had been a calculated necessity, a sacrifice to uphold the order Rufus desired and nothing beyond. How could he have possibly known that the anguished cry that followed the gunshot had been Sephiroth's? How could he have fathomed that Glenn held a significance to the SOLDIER far beyond their shared mission years ago?

He often wished that Sephiroth could’ve seen his perspective, as maybe it would’ve been a pathway for Sephiroth to comprehend that forming attachments to people only led to pain and suffering—a lesson Rufus had learned all too well. After all, he had long ago relinquished any desire for a bond with his father, and his mother was only a distant memory. Rufus was intimately familiar with the unfortunate bond he and Lazard shared, both tethered by the same father. He admitted that he longed connection sometimes (and only sometimes), for closeness. It often gnawed at him, knowing he had an older brother who had grown up in vastly different circumstances, yet could potentially offer understanding.

But that had been years ago. Lazard was long dead, just as Sephiroth and Glenn—proof that people died, reinforcing Rufus's belief that nurturing attachments was futile and stupid. Sephiroth served as a poignant example, his rapid descent following Genesis's and Angeal's desertion serving as a reminder that friends were enemies.

Rufus lamented it. If only Sephiroth forgone friendship, perhaps he would have been spared the anguish, and maybe he would still be alive if the Nibelheim incident had been avoidable in any way.

It had been the reason Rufus felt compelled to keep Sephiroth at arm’s length when everything had still been ordinary. He returned Sephiroth's occasional smiles and waves, and often engaged in the small talk they shared at events. Though jealousy had once gnawed at Rufus's feelings towards Sephiroth, particularly when they were children of similar ages and he could sense his father's pride as he read about Sephiroth's achievements in magazines, time and maturity had gradually eroded those emotions.

Rufus awoke swamped in his silk bed sheets, sweat clinging to his bare skin like a second skin. His first instinct was to seek out Darkstar, who lay peacefully asleep at the foot of the bed, undisturbed and softly snoring.

Then, his gaze fell upon Sephiroth, whole and alive seated beside him. Rufus blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight of the long-deceased SOLDIER, before shifting his attention back to Dee—so much for keeping a guard dog.

"This is a dream," Rufus declared, his tone more a reassurance to himself than to the apparition. "I'm dreaming, and I'll wake up any moment now."

"Shall I pinch you?" Sephiroth grinned, the expression far too unsettlingly lifelike for Rufus's liking.

Rufus shook his head, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun tucked beneath his pillow.

"That won't work on me," Sephiroth stated matter-of-factly, his gaze following Rufus's movements beneath the sheets. "Unless you're trying to frighten me, but I assure you, it will be equally futile."

"What do you want?" Rufus echoed.

Sephiroth leaned in, and for a fleeting moment, Rufus could swear he caught a whiff of that unmistakable scent—the bitter tang of mako and blood that clung to him. Rufus reminded himself that this was merely a dream. "I want Glenn back.”

Rufus shifted uncomfortably, putting some distance between himself and the apparition. "You know I killed him," he admitted bluntly.

"Something you regret?" Sephiroth's question was calculated.

"Of course not," Rufus snapped.

Sephiroth hummed thoughtfully, then rose to his feet, his body outlined by the moonlight filtering through the windows, casting a shadow against the backdrop of the green glow of Midgar below. "Then you won't mind if I do the honor," Sephiroth remarked, "If I bring him back."

"You can't resurrect the dead," Rufus rolled his eyes—look at him, arguing with the dream apparition of a man long gone. "I'm sure you'd love to, considering the many you've lost—yourself included."

"But I'm not dead," Sephiroth countered, his smile aunting and subtle. "And neither is Glenn. You'll be working with him soon enough, with me, with her."

"Her," Rufus echoed.

Sephiroth took a deliberate step towards the shadowy corner, his movements slow and calculated as he kept his gaze focused on Rufus.. "All born are bound to her," Sephiroth's voice resonated throughout the room. "Should this world be unmade, so too shall her children."

He slinked into the shadows, gone in the blink of an eye.

Rufus released a series of tense sighs, struggling to contain the rising panic as he buried his face in his hands. Darkstar, sensing his distress, lifted her head and rose to her feet, stretching her body before padding over to him and offering comforting licks.

It was in that moment that Rufus realized: he had been wide awake the entire time.

[jayparked]

you guys are all so nice to me i cant say thank you enough 🥺🫶🏻

[mayvora]

I love how easy it is in hermitcraft fandom to just. get people into literally any ship possible. its so poly-coded that we as a fandom just kinda accepted that everything is canon and good. that's really not that easy in any other fandom lol. like. here I can just say "ye I like this ship I think they are neat and that's the dynamic I see for them" AND 1. THERE WILL BE NO HATE 2. PEOPLE WILL GET HOOKED UP ON IT 100% . YE DUDE THIS THING WORKS I AGREE!! THEY INTERACTED TWICE BUT WHO CARES THIS IS MY NEW SHIP WE SHARE IT

love it here. anyways do you wanna talk about cub(scar)rian (cub + (scar) + grian) or maybe about gripulse (grian + impulse) or red velvet box (scar + grian + ren + bigb) or scarmartyn (scar + martyn) or- /gets shot away from the podium/

[pardonmydelays]

i was at the broadway museum today and these ones made me think of you:

IN THE HEIGHTS? IN THE HEIGHTS MY BELOVED??? my all time favourite musical by lin manuel miranda? 😭 oh my fucking god? CHRIS JACKSON WITH HAIR AKA BENNY? I CAN SEE ABUELA CLAUDIA WITH NINA SITTING ON STAIRS AND USNAVI AND SONNY AND VANESSA AND DANIELA AND CARLA AND THOSE ARE MY FRIENDS FROM WASHINGTON HEIGHTS IN CASE YOU CARE AND AND AND LIGHTS UP ON WASHINGTON HEIGHTS UP AT THE BREAK OF DAY I WAKE UP AND I GOT THIS LITTLE PUNK I GOTTA CHASE AWAY-

this is everything to me i can't 😭 i'm crying i hope you know that oh my fUCKING GOD I JUST HSHDHEH3H4U4H4H4H

and those boots are signed by lin i can't do this i'm not fine AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[vaperarmand]

i am not immune to text-based art that’s presented in bold blocky text (at times in all caps) and conveys a profound sentiment in only a few words

[seiwas]

counting today as a small win bc it’s the most i’ve written in a while 🥺

[scionshtola]

FFXIVWrite2024 Prompt 11 - Surrogate

characters: Y’shtola Rhul, Original Character ships: Y’shtola Rhul/Corisande Ymir rating: Mature (sexual content) | word count: 519 words summary: Whilst engaging in her mutually beneficial relationship with Saide, Y’shtola’s thoughts drift to Corisande. notes: Some 5.0 spoilers I suppose. A while ago I decided Y’shtola should have a fwb on the First!

Saide is a pragmatic woman. Reasonable and reasonably confident, and more importantly, Y’shtola thinks, as the woman’s hands move over her body, reasonably competent. 

Until recently, her touch had been more than enough to satisfy Y’shtola. 

‘‘Twas not a matter of skill, then, that kept Y’shtola from reaching her peak. There had been zero problems in that regard for the past few weeks—the entire length of their sexual relationship. In fact, Y’shtola had found herself rather easier to please than she remembered. She supposed that’s what happens when you spend several moons trapped in the Lifestream, followed by several more in the infirmary, not to mention the years yearning for someone in no position to return her feelings, grieving as they were for the love they lost. 

In a drought, even a little rain is a relief.

It had seemed like a good enough idea at the time. She’d seen it coming, seen Saide building up to it the few days before she kissed her over their evening cup of tea shared in the room the Night’s Blessed had provided her. 

Saide was certainly attractive, as far as Y’shtola could tell. A solidly built hume woman, strong from years of working with her hands, a few ilms taller than her. Her hair was dark, or so she’d said, and it fell just past her chin. And she was easy to talk to, as liable to tease Y’shtola as she was to make an insightful commentary on the topic at hand, or a wry joke about the state of Norvrandt. But Y’shtola had still been surprised to find herself leaning into the kiss, heat stirring as she chased Saide’s mouth. 

There was little romance to it when Y’shtola pulled her into her bed. Saide never stayed the night—her own idea, though it was certainly a relief to Y’shtola that they both viewed it only as a mutual meeting of needs. 

But those needs had grown harder to meet these past few days. Fortunately or unfortunately—she couldn’t decide—Y’shtola knows both the source of the disconnect and the solution to the problem.

Perhaps it is rude to think of another when so intimately twined with a woman. But Saide is a pragmatic woman, and they are only here for one reason. 

When Y’shtola curls her hand into Saide’s hair, she imagines pink and red strands slipping through her fingers. When Saide kisses her, she conjures a pair of sweetly curved lips, tilted in a smile. And when Saide’s hands cup and smooth and stroke, Y’shtola thinks of a different pair of hands—soft, slender fingers she knows well from all the times they’ve been laced with hers; a warm, gentle touch she’d felt on her arm, her waist, the small of her back countless times over the years. 

It is easy, after that. The heat and the pressure builds where there was barely a simmer before, and it is not long before Y’shtola reaches her tipping point. She bites her lip, straining as she comes apart to keep the name on the tip of her tongue from passing her lips. Cori. Cori. Cori.

[wish-i-were-heather]

i just bullshitted my way through this assignment and now i have no idea what to write for the conclusion so i made even more shit up

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Fic request: Kid Philip reluctantly tries to make friends in the boiling isles and fails, later he finds the mirror of the Collector and releases him. The two get along pretty well and they become bffs. Collector flys Pip around the boiling isles and get into silly shenanigans like play pranks and scare the bullies who picked on Pip. Pip takes Collector to meet Caleb and Evelyn and asks if they can have a sleepover, of course they agree. The kids cheer and Caleb is proud that Pip finally made a friend.

Sorry if this is too much.

⭐ A Friend From The Stars ✨

(IT'S NOT [in response to your story idea being alot]. I just hope this is okay! 💕 <3)

@fullnewperfection

Little Philip walked down the forest floor sadly, with a hurt expression on his face and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

He had tried his hardest to make friends in Bonesborough, but it was quite evident that none of the witches or demons who lived there were interested in forming a friendship with him.

Worst of all, he had been targeted by some cruel bullies in town who were much bigger than him due to his "unusual" ears.

It seems that some witches were not as friendly as his older brother had portrayed them to be.

Suddenly, the small boy stumbles over something.

"Ow!" Both Philip and another childlike voice squeaked in sync as Philip hit the ground.

Pip did not seem to hear the voice.

Slowly standing up, the brunette groaned as he looked for the cause of his fall.

Gazing down, he finds it.

The object was slightly protruding from the ground and appeared to be round like a disc.

"Huh? What's that?" The small boy asked himself as he approached the strange circular item with curious eyes.

After pulling the item out of the dirt, Philip raised it to his face and revealed that it was a mirror with a crescent moon drawn on it.

"A...mirror?" Philip blinked, tilting his head some.

A child that looked like a shadow suddenly showed up in front of the glass.

"Hi!" The shadow beamed in a bright tone.

Philip let out a small squeal of surprise as he quickly let go of the mirror.

"Ow!" The shadow yelped again, revealing that the childlike voice from earlier before belonged to him.

He began to grumble.

Man, did he wish that stupid mirror that he spent over a millennium in broke when it hit the ground.

The mirror is quickly picked up by Pip just as quickly as he dropped it. "Sorry!" He apologizes to the shadowy being that looked to be his age, brushing away the dirt from the glass.

"I didn't mean to drop you."

"Oh, it's okay!" The shadow giggled, an effortless smile present on his face.

"It didn't hurt that bad."

"Who...are you?" Pip questioned.

"You can call me The Collector," The Collector introduced himself with a wide, playful grin, slipping out of his mirror.

"Woah, cool!" Philip would beam, his blue eyes shinning bright at the shadow.

"Now, tell me your name!"

"It's Philip! Philip Wittebane!" Pip declared with an exuberant smile.

"Philip Wittebane?" The Collector laughed brightly.

"That name sounds super old, but also super fun! Wanna play a game? I would love that! We can play, play, play, all day! Do you like playing games? I love playing games! What's your favorite game, Philip?" The Collector pondered while hanging upside down.

"I like to play witch hunters! I also enjoy playing a game where you have to find and collect the most dead animals in the forest in under 10 minutes," He spoke, his smile mundane.

'Collecting dead animals?' The Collector thought. 'Woah, this kid seems like the strange and messed up type...I like him already.'

Once he's upright, The Collector commences speaking. "You seem like alot of fun, Philip. Wanna be best buddies?"

Blue eyes grew instantly at the offer.

"Yes!" Pip nodded without hesitation, eager to have a friend.

"Awesome! All I need is for you to free me from my mirror so we can play!" The Collector smiled.

"Really? That's all?"

The Collector gave Philip a nice nod.

"Oh, okay then! That'll be easy!" After placing the mirror on the ground, Pip took out his wooden sword.

As he raised his sword, he aimed it at the mirror and brought it down in the middle, causing it to split in two.

The Collector emerged from his mirror and appeared before Philip as a young child with pale yellow skin, short white hair, and a glowing crescent moon face.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes! I'm free, I'm Free, I'm FREE!" He cheered before snapping his fingers, causing a broad star-shaped object to appear.

Hoping on, he snaps his fingers a second time, and Philip's outfit transforms into a collector-themed robe.

"Hop on, new best buddy!" The Collector encouraged, with stars shining brightly in his red eyes.

Philip did precisely that.

"Get comfy, cause we're gonna have a great time! Are you ready?"

Pip nodded.

"Good! 3...2...1 blast off!"

The Collector's star soared into the sky, causing both boys to roar with joy.

As this song plays, a montage of the two boys flying around The Boiling Isles and engaging in silly shenanigans begins.

During it, they happily hula hoop in an unknown fire dimension, make friends with a three-eyed dolphin, play pranks on the people in Bonesborough, and turn the faces of the bullies who were bullying Pip into butts.

As the bullies flee and scream, the two boys snicker and exchange high-fives, bringing the montage to a close.

When Philip brings The Collector to meet Caleb and Evelyn, he asks if they can have a sleepover, which they agree to.

Caleb is happy to know that his baby brother now has a friend.

[witchwhaat]

the urge to chop off all of my hair vs the "you know it takes forever to grow them"