#i've written a small bit of the letter under the cut

[midnitecafe]

Dear Jack,

I hope you are doing well. The move to Brindleton Bay went smoothly & I settled in quickly. I really love it here, today it's raining cats and dogs, your favourite kind of weather. I think you would like it here too.

Cats, I took in one of the many strays in the area, Meave, as bestowed upon her by the locals. She does look like a Meave, just look at her!

Doesn't she look like a Meave? I'm writing to you from the local coffee shop, The Rabbit Hole, and it's buzzing for a rainy Monday afternoon.

Poor Rosa, the owner and her teenager Dakota are completely flooded with impatient customers in need of their caffeine fixes.

We have Frank Hogan and Adrianna Cummings cussing at each at the counter, way too far away to hear what the heated argument is about? The word BITCH did echo right to the back, and it made everyone forget what they were doing for a second.

The Paige Turners book club is having their weekly get together and judging by their expressions, it's a crime mystery. Want to hear some gossip?

Poor Seamus, sitting alone at a table right next to them, trying he's best to feel including, shame! Seamus was late one meeting & to make things worse he brought the wrong book, so they kicked him out. I feel for the poor guy, at least he's still trying to be part of the fun.

The uni students across the room from me are arguing about physics....

-the rest will stay between Magnolia & Jack

[yellowwithalisp]

𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 - 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝

(So- I have never written a lemon before, or posted it. I've done Erp before but that's about it. So this is inspired by all of @lipglossanon AMAZING stories! ( Seriously- go check them out and give them lots of love!!💛🌻💛) Hopefully, when SH2R comes out, there will be more James Sunderland x reader stuff put out!! 𝐏.𝐒. 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞. - Yellow 💛🌻) (Final count- 9,071 words.) ( James Sunderland x Fem!Reader! No mention of (Y/N)! ) 🖤▪ 𝙰𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗  𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝙼𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚃𝚅

They made it….. They made it out of that town… She was covered in cuts. There was a bad cut on her lip. She would grumble every now and then about it as she drove through the rain. She had one hand on the steering wheel. And the other tightly holding James's hand. Their fingers intertwined.

The car was silent all besides the rain hitting. The wipers wished the water away as James glanced over at her as she let out a small hiss of pain. James looked at her with concern as she hissed in pain. He gently squeezed her hand and turned his attention back to the road, his eyes scanning the rain-soaked surroundings. "A-are you alright? We should find a place to stop and clean those cuts," he suggested, his voice filled with worry. The light from the lamppost moved past her as they drove. "Yeah- just- stings a bit. That's all." she said. He frowned, his guilt building up as he stared at her.

Continued to hold onto her hand, offering what little comfort he could. "I'm sorry…I wish I could've protected you better," he murmured softly, his voice filled with guilt. He knew the town had taken a toll on both of them, physically and emotionally. As they drove, he kept a careful eye out for any signs of civilization where they could stop and tend to their wounds. "Let's find a motel or something. Somewhere we can rest and take care of ourselves," His heart ached at the sight of her injuries. He reached out with his free hand, gingerly brushing his fingertips over the cut on her lip. "Does it hurt a lot?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. She shook her head.

"Not real-ow-ly." she said as it started to hurt again. James slowly pulled his hand away from her lip. James frowned, his concern deepening at her response. He knew the pain was still there, even if she tried to downplay it. He felt guilt for causing her any pain. He realized his touch might have aggravated the soreness, so he turned his attention back to the road, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "I'm sorry… I should have protected you better…" he whispered above a breath. His hand trembling under hers. She glanced over at him. She took a moment to study James' face, seeing the guilt and remorse etched on his features. Her heart ached for him, knowing that he blamed himself for what had happened.

She tightened her grip on his hand, offering him a gentle smile as she looked back at the road. The rain starts to come down harder as she drives the car to the nearby town. "Hey… I ran ahead when you told me not to. it's my own fault." she said as she shrugged. The guile was still etched on James's face. James glanced at her, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and appreciation for her understanding. He nodded slowly, acknowledging her words. "I…I shouldn't have let you go alone. I should have been there to protect you. I'm just…so sorry"

He admitted, his voice filled with a deep remorse. "But… I should of done more to protect you…" He never planned on leaving that town. Not after he had gotten that letter. He fully intended on never being seen again… Then… He met her. He was simply trying to get some first aid in the store when they meet. And then he meet her, and she stayed. Even after she found out what he did to Mary and what happen. She never judge him, never yelled at him, she treated him with so much kindness. Something that he still tells himself that he didn't deserve from her.

"I… I don't think I would have ever left that town if it wasn't for you." James said as he watch her. Her eyes widen slightly as she slowly the car down at a stop light, the light reflected off of her face. "I'm sure you would of James." She started, but James cut her off. "N-No… I wouldn't. I… Never intended on leaving that town but.. Then… I meet you… You saved me…" His hand was trembling under hers as she gently squeezed it. She looked over at James with a saden look before the light turned green. A mix of emotions flooded her heart as she listened to James' words. While part of her understood his feelings of guilt and remorse, she couldn't bear to see him berate himself anymore.

She squeezed his hand again. Not being able to do much more as she drive. Her touch is soft and comforting. "James… I get that you feel responsible, but it wasn't your fault. We both made choices and… You saved yourself too," She said as she drove the car away from the stop light. They were getting closer to the nearby town where there was hopefully a hotel or inn they could stay at.

She looked ahead as they slowly entered the town. "Don't… Suppose you've been here before?" she asked as they entered the small town. James looked at her, his gaze filled with uncertainty as he looked away and out the rainy window. "No…I've haven't. Hopefully, there's a hotel or inn somewhere around here…" He mumbled, his voice almost unbearable with how hard the rain was hitting the car. James could feel the tension in the air, both from the storm raging outside and from his own inner turmoil. He desperately wanted to keep her safe, to find a place where they could rest and escape the horrors they had faced. As they turned onto the unfamiliar street, the rain continued to pour down, obscuring their vision. James strained his eyes, searching for any sign of shelter. He spotted a small inn nestled between two buildings, its neon sign flickering in the distance. "There… Try over there," he said, pointing towards it. She nodded, focusing on the road ahead as she maneuvered the car toward the inn. The tires splashed through puddles as they approached, and the headlights washed over the building, revealing a worn-out facade. She parked the car in front of the inn, and they sat in silence for a moment, their hands still clasped together.

"I hope they have a room available… It'll be nice to finally rest," she whispered, her voice tinged with exhaustion. James nodded, his heart pounding with anticipation. He couldn't wait to get out of the rain, to find temporary solace within the walls of the inn. He unbuckled his seatbelt and they both stepped out into the pouring rain.

As they stood outside the inn, raindrops cascading down their faces, James took a moment to survey their surroundings. The inn looked weathered and worn, its paint peeling and the sign flickering ominously. He instinctively tightened his grip on her hand, wanting to keep her close and safe. Without a word, they made their way toward the entrance, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the relentless downpour.

The rain soaked them within seconds, the droplets drenching their clothes and hair as they hurried towards the entrance of the inn. James pushed the heavy wooden door open, revealing a dimly lit lobby. The air was musty, the scent of old wood and dampness filling their nostrils. James led her inside, their clothes damp from the rain. The air felt heavy, filled with a sense of unease that seemed to match the town they had just escaped from. As they approached the front desk, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes looked up from her paperwork. "Welcome," she said, her voice carrying a weariness born from years of running the inn.

"Do you need a room for the night?" James nodded, his gaze fixed on the woman as he tried to hide his unease. "Yes, please," he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced at his companion, hoping she was okay. The woman glanced at their disheveled appearance, taking note of the cuts and bruises that adorned their bodies. There was a flicker of concern in her eyes, but she said nothing. Instead, she handed James a set of keys, her voice filled with a wearied kindness. "Room 204… it's on the second floor. Take the stairs on your right." They nodded their thanks and made their way to the staircase as the woman turned her attention back to her paperwork.

James took the keys and mumbled a small thank you to the women. Turning his head to face the other. "Let's head up and get some rest," he suggested, his voice filled with exhaustion and relief. They made their way down the dimly lit hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the silence.

As they climbed the stairs, James kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, his senses heightened by the eerie atmosphere of the town. They reached the second floor and found their room, the hallway eerily silent. James inserted the key into the door and pushed it open, the wooden floors creaking with each step. The door opened, revealing a small but cozy space, complete with a bed, a worn-out armchair, small television, and a small bathroom. James held the door open for her, gesturing for her to enter first

She walked in and dropped their bag on the floor and taking a moment to soak in their temporary sanctuary. He followed in after her and linked around for a moment. Turning to her, his eyes filled with both relief and worry. "We made it," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "We finally have a place to rest." She stepped over to him, taking in the sight of the one bed and the faint smell of cleanliness. It wasn't much, but it was a haven from the terrors they had faced. She closed the door, offering James a small, tired smile. "Yeah… we made it," she echoed softly.

Squeezing his hand gently. James felt a rush of warmth fill his chest at her words. He wanted to say so much more, to let her know just how much she meant to him, but the words remained trapped within his throat. Instead, he simply nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Let's… Hope we can get some rest. God knows we deserve it." he managed to mutter, his voice quiet as he turned as she walked around the room before taking off her wet coat. letting it fall to the floor with a damp thud.

As she slipped off her wet coat, James couldn't help but watch her every movement, his eyes lingering on her figure. The dim light of the room cast soft shadows on her damp hair, making her appear ethereal and alluring. He swallowed hard, trying to push away the thoughts that were beginning to consume his mind. He moved towards her, his steps hesitant yet determined. "Let me take care of that for you," He murmured. She blushed as she leaned down to grab the coat off the floor for him.

James reaches out to gently take the coat from her hands. His touch was lingering, and there was a slight tremor in his fingers as he carefully hung it up. He turned back to face her, his gaze fixed on her now vulnerable form. She watched him, a mixture of surprise and amusement in her eyes, as if she were silently questioning his actions. There was something captivating about the way he moved, the way his eyes seemed to study her every detail. It made her heart flutter and her skin tingle with anticipation. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Her words hung in the air between them, creating an unspoken tension that neither of them could ignore. James blushed as he moved away from her with her wet coat in hand. Attempting to regain his composure, James cleared his throat and ran a hand through his damp hair. "Uh… I'll, uh, see if there's anything we can dry off with," he stammered, his voice slightly shaky. As he stepped away, he tried to ignore the intense heat rising to his cheeks. He rummaged through his bag, searching for something to help her dry off. His hands trembled as he found a towel tucked away, and he quickly walked back to her, offering it with a slight smile. "Here, this should help," he said, his voice softer and more composed than before. She graciously accepted the towel, her eyes gleaming with gratitude as she wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thanks, James." she said, her voice filled with warmth. James flushed even more at her words, his heart fluttering in his chest. Attempting to shift the focus away from himself, James glanced around the room, looking for anything else that could be of use.

"I, uh, think there might be some spare blankets in the closet if you get cold," he suggested, his gaze avoiding hers. "Or, um, maybe I could, um, turn up the heat if you'd like." She chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. "How about you help change my bandaids first." she said as James face turned bright red, his breath hitched, heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself as he mustered a small. "Y… Yeah. I-I can help with that." James nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached into his bag, fumbling for the first aid kit he had packed. His hands trembled as he pulled out the necessary supplies, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Just… Just sit down and let me take care of you," he mumbled, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and determination. She complied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as James sat down behind her. He started to ask where the injury was when he felt his body froze as he watched her strip her wet shirt off of her body. His eyes followed a bit as she tosses it onto the floor. "Sorry, it's under my bra." she said as she still has the bra on. But held up buts if the blanket up to her chest just in case. Sweat quickly formed on James's forehead as he swallowed hard. "It…. It's ok…" He said weakly. James felt his heart racing, his cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. He tried to keep his gaze focused on her injury, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her exposed skin. It took all of his willpower to maintain his composure and avoid making his attraction apparent. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control over his thoughts.

"I…I'll be gentle, I promise," he managed to murmur, his voice lingering with a hint of nervousness. James carefully reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gingerly lifted the edge of her bra, exposing the injured area. His touch was light and delicate, his focus solely on tending to her wounds. He fought against the overwhelming urge to let his fingers linger, to explore every inch of her exposed skin. Instead, he focused on cleaning the cut, his breath hitching at the close proximity between them. "how bad is it?" She asked as James took out the fresh bandaids and took a moment to inspect the wound, his eyes studying the cut with a mix of concern and focus.

He wanted to reassure her, to let her know that it wasn't too severe, but a part of him couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of her vulnerability. He cleared his throat, his voice slightly shaky as he responded. "It's… it's not too deep. It should heal fairly quickly," he replied, his tone soft and comforting. "But I'll make sure to clean it thoroughly and put a fresh bandaid on." he said as he looked at her bare skin and then over at her. He carefully began cleaning the area, his touch gentle yet purposeful. As he pressed the bandaid against her skin, his skin brushed against hers for a brief moment, sending a jolt through his body.

He quickly pulled his hand away, swallowing hard as he tried to maintain his composure. "There… all done," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. She nods as she reached back and reattaches her bra. "Thanks." she said as she turned to look back at James. His eyes lingering on her cut lip. "L… Let's take…. Of your lip next." he mumbled. Her eyes widen slightly as one her hands reached up and gently touched her cut lip. "Oh yeah… I forgot about that…" James couldn't tear his gaze away from her injured lip, his concern evident in his eyes. He reached into the first aid kit once again, his hands slightly more steady this time. As he retrieved the necessary supplies, his focus remained fixed on her, his desire to mend her wounds overpowering his own trepidation. "Here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "let me take care of it."

He carefully approached her, his touch feather-light as he gently cleaned the cut. Each brush of his fingers against her skin sent a ripple of electricity through his body, and he fought to remain composed. Once he had finished cleaning the wound, he applied a small amount of ointment and placed a fresh bandage over it. "There," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he lowered his gaze. "All better." She watched him intently as he tended to her. "Thanks… Again James" She said with a soft smile. Her eyes started into his green eyes. James could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the heat of desire coursing through his veins.

He bit his lip, his mind battling with his desires. Wanting to both follow his heart and protect her from his own hidden desires. "I… I should probably go clean up. The rain made quite a mess of me," he stammered, his voice slightly shaky. She blinked, slowly nodding her head. "Sure, but don't think I didn't see you get hurt as well. On your back. She said as she turned on his wet shirt. "Strip. Let me take a look at it."

James blinked in surprise, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson at her request. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I… uh… it's not as bad as it looks. Just a scrape," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flickered towards her, she was giving him the look as she had her hand held out for his shirt. Hesitant, he slowly began to unbutton his shirt, his movements careful and deliberate. As the fabric fell away, revealing his bare chest. She looked at him for a moment… Then two… Then three.

Before quickly blocking and shaking her bead lightly. "Ah-you can- turn around so that I can look at the cuts."James blinked in surprise, flustered by her sudden change of demeanor. He quickly turned around, his face burning with embarrassment as he faced away from her. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, unsure of how to navigate this newfound intimacy. He could feel her presence behind him, her gaze fixed on his back, and it only served to heighten his nervousness. James tried to steady his breathing, reminding himself to keep his composure. "Just… just let me know if you need me to do anything," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists. Time seemed to slow down as he waited for her to examine his wounds, his mind a jumble of anticipation and longing.

She hummed as she gently placed one of her hands on his back. Her hand… It was so warm…. "It doesn't look too bad… Still, I'm gonna clean it and change out the bandaid on it." she said as she placed her other hand on his lower back. James shivered slightly at her touch, his body tensing as her warm hands made contact with his back. Her presence so close to him was both electrifying and terrifying, stirring a mixture of desire and anxiety within him. He breathed deeply, trying to steady himself as her gentle touch sent a wave of warmth through him. "Th-Thank you," he managed to stammer, his voice slightly shaky. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing under her care. It felt oddly comforting to have someone tend to his wounds in such an intimate manner. He listened to the sound of her soft of her move around on the bed, retrieving the necessary supplies. James tried to suppress the rapid beating of his heart, his mind flooded with thoughts of what could happen next. But he was careful not to let those thoughts show, keeping his expression neutral and his emotions hidden. As she began to clean his wound, her touch was gentle, her movements precise. The sting of the antiseptic caused James to flinch, a shudder running through his body. But he fought to remain still, to let her do what she needed to do. He could feel her breath against his back, her quiet concentration filling the air. The small gasp that escaped her lips when she saw the extent of the injury only fueled his desire, awakening a simmering passion within him.

"This… Will sting a bit." she said before cleaning the cuts. James winced at her words, preparing himself for the stinging sensation that was sure to follow. He bit his lip, trying to suppress any sounds of discomfort. His mind, however, was consumed by a mixture of pain and pleasure. Each touch of the antiseptic brought forth a symphony of conflicting emotions within him, a bittersweet reminder of the complexity of his desires.

As her delicate fingers gently cleaned his wounds, he could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away. The pain was overshadowed by the intimate connection they were sharing, igniting a fire deep within his being. "Their healing well. I need you to tell me if they hurt or start to open up again ok?" she told him. He couldn't help but steal glances at her, taking in the concentrated expression on her face as she worked. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of concern, her care evident in every movement. It was in moments like this that James felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude for her presence in his life, even if it they only meet a few days ago. The way she attended to his needs, both physical and emotional, stirred something within him that he couldn't quite put into words. Finally, she finished cleaning his wounds, carefully placing fresh bandages over them. James let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He turned around to face her, his eyes locking with hers. There was a mixture of vulnerability and desire in his gaze, a silent invitation for something more. "Thank you… for taking care of me," he repeated, his voice filled with a longing he dared not fully express. She smiled as she gently rubbed his back. "You did the same for me James."James felt a surge of warmth flood through him, his heart skipping a beat at her words.

He couldn't help but let a small smile grace his lips, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "I… I'm glad I could be here for you," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "You mean a lot to me… more than you probably realize." His hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before cupping her cheek gently, his thumb stroking her skin softly. The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming to him. She watched him before smirking. "Wow James, why does it seem like your almost sad that my hands are no longer on your back?" she teased him as his face turned red. James's face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes widening in surprise at her teasing remark. He tried to hide his nervousness with a forced chuckle, but the rosy hue on his cheeks betrayed his true feelings. "I… uh… well, it's not like I didn't appreciate your touch," he stammered, his voice laced with a mixture of sheepishness and genuine longing. "I just… I guess I got used to it… and it felt… nice." He averted his gaze, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. It was rare for James to let his guard down, to openly show his vulnerability and desire. But with her, it was different. She had a way of teasing him that made him both uncomfortable and exhilarated, stoking a fire within him that he couldn't quite quell. "So… um… what now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want to do next?" His heart raced in his chest as he looked at her, hoping that she would give him some indication, some clue as to where this newfound intimacy would lead. A small smirk formed on her face. "Would you like me to keep touching you? Or are you gonna go take that shower?"James's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening at her suggestive words. He felt a surge of desire course through him, his body responding instinctively. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper as he replied, "I… I think a shower… would be a good idea." He couldn't deny his longing for her touch, but the need to cleanse himself and find a moment of solitude to gather his thoughts was overwhelming. He stepped back slightly, his hand lingering on her cheek before he reluctantly withdrew it. "But… maybe later, we could… continue where we left off?" he proposed, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. She nodded, slowly getting off if the bed. "I'll take one after you. I'm going to get out of the rest of these wet clothes."

James's breath hitched, his body trembling with a mixture of desire and nervousness. The longing that consumed him. With a hesitant smile, he nodded and turned towards the bathroom, walking away but feeling her gaze linger on him. The door closed behind him, and he sunk to the floor, the cool tiles against his bare skin soothing his racing heart. He allowed himself a moment of solitude, his mind filled with thoughts of her and the possibilities that lay ahead.

As the warm water cascaded over his body, James let out a long sigh, feeling the tension melt away with each drop. The steam filled the bathroom, creating a sense of intimacy and tranquility. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, the image of her delicate touch still fresh in his memory. It was a bittersweet sensation, a mixture of desire and longing. '𝘐… 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳…' He could feel his length starting to twitch, starting to come alive as he gently wrapped one of his hands around it. '𝘐… 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢….' He couldn't deny the fire that burned within him, the hunger that yearned to be satisfied. Slowly, his other hands roamed over his body, slick with water and desire. He explored every inch of his own skin, his touch firm and loving, imagining that it was her hands caressing him instead. '𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳..'

James's breath hitched as his hand traveled lower, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of his length, his mind filled with visions of her. His thoughts became consumed by fantasies of their bodies entwined, aching for the connection that he craved. He could feel his length starting to throb the visions of her in his mind made it pulse.

'𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦…' The water amplified the sensations, the slickness allowing him to glide his hand over himself with ease. His breaths became shallow, his pace quickening as his desire mounted. '𝘐-𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳…' With a shuddering gasp, James succumbed to his carnal needs, pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave. He leaned against the tiled wall, his body trembling as he rode the waves of satisfaction. '𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳… 𝘈𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦…'

His mind was filled with her image, her touch, her essence intermingled with his own. "𝘏-𝘩𝘩𝘢𝘢…" He couldn't help but let out a deep, primal moan. The sound bounced off the bathroom walls, mingling with the rush of water and steam. His body convulsed with each wave of ecstasy, his muscles tensing and relaxing as pleasure coursed through his veins. His mind was consumed by the image of her, her soft lips and delicate touch. He imagined her hands caressing his length, her fingers dancing along every inch, driving him further into a state of euphoria. The intensity of his pleasure heightened, causing his breathing to become erratic and his grip on himself to tighten. As James's pleasure built, his moans grew more desperate, the sound echoing through the bathroom. '𝘍-𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬…' He could feel his body tensing, his muscles coiling with anticipation. With each stroke of his hand, the pleasure intensified, a delicious friction igniting his nerves. His mind was overtaken by fantasies of her, his imagination running wild with the images of their bodies intertwined. He could imagine the softness of her lips on his skin, her warm breath ghosting over him. He could almost feel the press of her body against his, her hands exploring every inch of him.

He let out a guttural cry, his body shuddering as he rode the waves of ecstasy. His release spilled over his hand, mixing with the water. His seed spilled over his hand and mixed with the water, carried away by the steady stream. As his body came down from its orgasmic high, James leaned against the wall, his chest heaving, his mind hazy with satisfaction. The sound of his own heavy breaths mingled with the steady flow of water, creating an intimate soundtrack for his post-orgasmic bliss. He took a moment to catch his breath, relishing in the daze of pleasure that enveloped him.

As James slowly regained his composure, he slowly pushed himself off of the wall and turned off the shower, his mind still clouded with the vivid images of his fantasies. He reached for the towel, wrapping it around his waist, the fabric warm against his skin. His body was still humming with the remnants of pleasure, a lingering reminder of the ecstasy he had just experienced. Stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist. He couldn't help but feel a pang of anticipation, knowing that soon he would be able to share his desires with her, hopefully…

ʚ🌻ɞ

"… I hope he's ok." She mumbled as she looked over at the closed bathroom door. The old Tv playing in the background. She had changed into a tank top and shorts. With most of her body under the blankets. "He's sure is taking his time in the shower…" James emerged from the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, droplets of water clinging to his skin. He glanced over at Ava, a mixture of nerves and desire swirling in his eyes. "Sorry for taking so long," he said, his voice slightly shaky. "I… needed a moment to myself." He walked towards the bed and over to where his bag was. She watches him walk by here. Having a bit of a hard time keeping her eyes from looking lower at him. She watched some water run down his body and blushed a bit. "Everything ok? None of your injuries opened up, did they?"

James turned to face her, his expression a mix of relief and uncertainty. "No, nothing like that. I'm fine, physically at least," he replied, his voice still trembling slightly. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes meeting hers. "I just… needed a moment to collect myself. This… all of this is so new to me," he admitted, his voice filled with a touch of vulnerability. "But being with you… it feels right." He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed as she closed her eye. Feeling the warmth of his hand against him. "Well, since your down now. I'll go take me shower real quick." She said as she opened her eyes.

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Y-yeah, sure. Take your time," he replied, his voice filled with understanding. He watched as her gracefully got off the bed, a wave of desire coursing through him as he caught a glimpse of her in her tank top and shorts. As she walked towards the bathroom, he couldn't help but appreciate the way her body moved, the gentle sway of her hips captivating his attention. His desire for her only intensified as he imagined the water cascading over her naked form, her body glistening under the steam. James couldn't help but feel a tinge of impatience, his hands clenching involuntarily as his anticipation grew.

As the bathroom door closed behind her, he let out a shaky breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He knew that they had much to explore together, and the mere thought of it sent a jolt of excitement through his veins. He opened his clothing bag and quickly rummaged through it, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of what lay ahead. He slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, his movements quick and efficient. As he gathered his damp clothes and folded them neatly, he couldn't help but hear the soft sound of running water in the background, a reminder of her presence just a few feet away. His body responded instinctually, a familiar ache building deep within him. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep his desires in check. There would be time for that later, once they were both sated and ready. With a gentle sigh, James finished organizing his belongings and sat at the edge of the bed, glancing at the closed bathroom door with a mixture of anticipation and longing. He get dress, trying to take his mind off of it… It failed.

Warm droplets caressed her skin, offering solace and comfort. The steam enveloped her, creating a veil of privacy within the enclosed space. She closed her eyes, letting the water cascade over her body, massaging away any lingering tension. She couldn't help but think about James, his presence still lingering in the room. When he was helping her change her bandagies… His hands were so soft..m and worm. He was so nice to her. Making sure that she was ok before he did anything…and back in the town, he did everything he could to protect her.

The anticipation of their intimate encounter sent shivers down her spine, her body responding to the thought of his touch. Her hands instinctively traced the curves of her body, gliding over her skin with a sensuality that matched her growing desire. The water intensified the sensations, making her skin slick and responsive to her every movement. Her fingertips trailed down her neck, across the swell of her breasts, and further down, exploring the depths of her own desires. She imagined James's hands upon her, his touch gentle yet commanding. Every stroke and caress mirrored the images in her mind, heightening the pleasure that coursed through her veins.

Slowly, she let her fingers slip between her thighs, a gasp escaping her lips as she felt the warmth and wetness that awaited her. Imagining James being there with her, his voice husky with desire, she played with herself.

"𝘐-𝘐… 𝘏𝘢𝘢𝘢… 𝘊-𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴…" She mumbled. The steam rose around her, creating an atmosphere of seduction and surrender. She let herself succumb to the growing pleasure, her moans becoming lost in the symphony of the water and her own desire. She lost track of time, lost in the depths of her fantasies, until finally, with a shuddering gasp, she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure, her body convulsing with the force of her release. The water washed away the remnants of her passion, leaving her trembling as she turned off the shower, a sense of satisfaction washed over her. She wrapped a towel around her body, drying herself off as she stepped out of the shower. Putting on her fresh cloths…. She was not going to tell James about this…What would he say if he knew she had thought about him like that? She nervously finished getting dressed and opened the bathroom door. "H-hey." She said softly.

James's breath hitched as he saw her emerge from the bathroom. His gaze traveled over her, taking in every curve and contour. He could still smell the lingering scent of shower gel and steam clinging to her skin, adding to her allure. "H-hey," he stammered, his voice thick with desire. She walked over to him and sat down next to him on the bed. "… We can finally breath huh?" She said with a soft chuckle. Moving her hand to hold his. "We're finally safe…"

James felt a sense of relief wash over him as he intertwined his fingers with her's, her touch grounding him in the present moment. He looked into her eyes, seeing the warmth and understanding reflected back at him. "Yeah, it feels… good to finally be safe," he replied, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. He squeezed her hand gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you… for being here with me. For understanding and accepting me, flaws and all," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity. She chuckled as she closed her eye. "Your acting like I did nothing wrong." James rubbed his thumb against her hand. "You were told what I did and… You still state with me.. And helped me fight those monsters." She was quiet for a moment before looking over at him. "James… When I saw you getting into your car… That look on your face… You weren't going to leave town, were you? Where…. You going to drive your car into the river?"

James froze, his heart pounding in his chest at the directness of her question. He had been hoping to keep that part of his thoughts locked away, buried in the depths of his shame. But there was no escaping her intuition, her ability to see through his facade. He took a deep breath, his eyes downcast as he mustered the courage to respond. "I… I can't lie to you." he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. "In that moment, the despair was overwhelming. I thought about it… driving my car into the river. Ending it all." His grip on her hand tightened, a mixture of fear and vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

Her heart sank at James's confession. She had suspected it, but hearing him say it out loud was still painful. She squeezed his hand tighter, her fingers lacing with his. "James… I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she whispered softly, her voice filled with empathy. "But I'm glad you didn't do it. I'm glad you let me drag your ass over to my car and get in with me.."

James's eyes welled with tears as her words washed over him. He let out a shaky breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wash over him. "Thank… You" he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for saving me, for giving me a reason to keep going. You… you stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life." He turned his head slightly, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss. They broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other, their breaths mingling. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," James admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. "But I'm not letting you go. Not for anything."

She smiled as his with a soft chuckle. "Good, I would hope not" She said as she rest her forehead against his. "So… About finishing where we left off…" she sat with her legs crossed a she looked at James's eyes widening in surprise. He struggled to find his voice, torn between his desire for her touch and his fear of crossing a line. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions, uncertainty and longing intertwining within him. Finally, he managed to stammer out a response, his voice barely audible. "I… uh… yes," he whispered, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. "If… if you're comfortable with it… I would like that." He cast his gaze downwards, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. Despite his attempts to hide it, the longing in his eyes was unmistakable, baring his vulnerable desires to her. He hoped she wouldn't reject him, wouldn't push him away. He yearned for her touch, for the intimacy that it promised. In this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to surrender to the desires that lay dormant within him, eager to explore the depths of his longing with her by his side.

"Your… Really attractive.." The room filled with the heavy with desire and pleasure as they explored each other's bodies with a hunger that couldn't be ignored. "S-same… Could be said for you…" James said as her green eyes looked into hers. She responded by rolling her eyes. "Same could not be said because I'm not attractive." she said. James couldn't help but feel a rush of desire and affection for her. He wanted to show her just how attractive she was to him, both inside and out. His hands moved gently along her curves, tracing every contour as he whispered softly in her ear.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine sincerity. "Your beautiful." He gently brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "I… Find you incredibly attractive, in more ways than one. I-I'm…. Drawn to you." His voice was filled with a mixture of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. As he spoke, a faint blush tinted his cheeks, his own insecurities bubbling to the surface. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

But he couldn't help but want to reassure her of her own beauty. She blinked, seemingly taken aback by his words. Her eyes softened, and a small smile played upon her lips. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. James nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Absolutely…. P-please believe me when I say that you are truly…. Breathtaking to me."

As their lips moved against each other, their bodies gravitated towards each other, their hands seeking out the familiar contours and curves. With each touch, their passion ignited, the intensity growing with every fiery caress. Their clothes became little more than barriers, mere obstacles to their escalating desire. James's hands hesitantly trailed along the soft fabric of her clothes, his fingers craving to feel the warmth and softness beneath.

With an unspoken understanding, she pulled away from the kiss, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and anticipation. She took his hand, guiding it to the hem of her top, silently inviting him to explore further. James's hands trembled slightly as he touched her skin, his fingertips slowly inching upwards, tracing the curves of her body. The softness of her skin mesmerized him, igniting a fire within him that he could no longer contain.

His lips hungrily sought hers once again, as if he couldn't get enough of her taste. Their tongues danced in a passionate duet, sharing the depths of their desire. His hands grew bolder, and her eyes widen for a split second as she let out a small hiss. James quickly pulled away as he looked at her with worry in his eyes. "I-I'm fine.. Just a bit sore on my back from the cuts." She tried to give him a reassuring smile.

James's worry melted away slightly as he listened to her reassurances, a small sigh of relief escaping him. He didn't want to cause her any harm or discomfort, and the thought of hurting her made him uneasy. Cupping her face, he gazed into her eyes, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. "Are… You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "I don't want to hurt you. If-If it's too much, we can stop-"

She leaned into his touch, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "I'm fine," she murmured, her voice filled with warmth. "I promise, I'm okay. I want this…. I want 𝘺𝘰𝘶." Her words ignited a flicker of desire within him, banishing his worries and filling him with a newfound determination. He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and longing. "O… Okay," he breathed, his voice laced with anticipation

Their bodies pressed against one another once again, the heat and passion between them intensifying with each passing moment. James's hands explored her curves, his touch becoming more confident and sure.

"𝘑-𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴…" She whimpered out his name.

He trailed soft, lingering kisses along her neck, his lips sending shivers down her spine. His hands traveled lower, tracing the contours of her waist before finding their way to the button of her shorts. He glanced up at her, seeking her approval before proceeding.

"𝘊…. 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐-𝘐?" His voice was barely above a whisper as she silently gave him permission to continue. His hands deftly undid the button and zipper, peeling her shorts down her legs with a gentle urgency. His breath hitched as he caught sight of her exposed skin, his mind drowning in a sea of desire.

As he knelt before her, his fingertips grazed her thighs, his touch featherlight and tantalizing. He pressed soft kisses along the inside of her leg, relishing in the taste and scent of her skin. Slowly, he parted her thighs, and her legs trembled as she blushed, feeling his gaze on her. "𝘕𝘯𝘨𝘩…" His tongue glided over her with a reverent touch. The exquisite sensation made her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, the sight of her bare skin driving him wild with need. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly trailed his fingers up her inner thighs, relishing in the softness and warmth of her skin.

She let out a whimper, her body trembling with anticipation. James moved closer, his lips ghosting over her thigh, his touch teasing and taunting her. He wanted to savor every moment, to make her crave his touch just as much as he craved hers.

With a sudden surge of confidence, James pressed a gentle kiss against her most intimate place, his tongue darting out to taste her. She gasped, her back arching in response to the pleasure that coursed through her. James's hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he continued to explore her with his tongue, his movements growing more fervent and desperate. James could feel himself growing harder as he explored her lower lips with his tongue. "𝘠𝘰-𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦… 𝘚𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥…" He mumbled. He could feel his cock starting to throb in his pants as he softly moaned. Steering back to life. Images from his time in the shower came back as his tongue moved deeper into her.

He continued to lavish her with his tongue, feeling her legs twitch as his tongue moved. He glanced up to see her tightly griping the blanket of the hotel bed. He could hear his own heavy breathing mixing with hers and feel the throbbing, insistent need in his own body. The erotic taste and intoxicating scent of her arousal filled his senses, driving him to the edge of desire. "𝘐… 𝘐-𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵… 𝘈-𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.."

Unable to resist any longer, James pulled away, his eyes burning with hunger and need. He scoot back a bit on the bed as she pushed herself up a bit into a sitting position. His hands fumbled with his own pants. "𝘐… 𝘐-𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥…" The bulge in his pants was desperate to be free from the restraints of clothing. The urgency hung heavy in the air as he finally pushed his pants down, his hardened length sprang free. She reached up and help him get his shirt off as she kissed his neck. James swallowed as he looked back up at her. One of his hands was around his length as it twitched, waiting for her to give him the ok to go on. She whimpered as she was still feeling the effect of his tongue that was in her, but nod her head at him. With a moment of hesitation, he moved forward and positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock brushing against her slick folds. James's breath hitched at the exquisite sensation, his body trembling with anticipation. "𝘍-𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬… 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴-" Her body trembled under him.

With a controlled urgency, James slowly pushed himself into her, his length sinking deep within her velvety warmth. He groaned in pleasure as he felt the delicious tightness enveloping him, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body. "𝘑-𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵… 𝘕𝘨𝘩… 𝘈-𝘈 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦…." Their bodies became one, their connection raw and intoxicating. She gasped and arched her back, her hands instinctively gripping the sheets as James filled her completely. The feeling of him stretching her, filling her to her core. "𝘍-𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬.. 𝘚-𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘨…" Her walls clenched around him, squeezing him tightly as they adjusted to the intimate intrusion. "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴-" "𝘋-𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦 𝘴… 𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵-" His movements were slow and deliberate, allowing her to adjust to his presence. He pulled back, his cock sliding almost all the way out before he plunged back in, a low groan escaping his lips. "𝘚…. 𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮… 𝘈-𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵… 𝘐-𝘪𝘵'𝘴… 𝘚𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯-" He slowly started to move after giving her time to adjust to his length deep within her. The rhythm they established was gentle yet unrestrained. "𝘐'𝘮… 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳… 𝘖𝘬?" James's name fell from her lips in breathless cries as he started to thrust into her. His hands gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he thrust deeper into her, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. "𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮-" He could feel her inner muscles clenching around him, pulsating with desire and need. The pace of their breaths quickened as his thrust quickened.

James's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and dip, the sensations driving him mad with desire. His lips found hers once again, their mouths melding in a passionate embrace, their moans muffled in each other's kiss. The room was filled with the sound of their panting breaths and their bodies colliding. James could feel the tension building within him, the coil of pleasure winding tighter until he was on the precipice of release. His movements became more urgent, his thrusts growing harder and faster as they both hurtled towards the peak of ecstasy. He could feel her walls clenching around him, her cries of pleasure becoming louder and more urgent. With one final, powerful thrust, James let go, his body convulsing as he found release within her. His climax sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She moaned his name, her voice filled with ecstasy as she clung to him, her nails digging into his back. Making James moan out her name as well as he close his eyes tight The room filled with their muffled moans and breathless sounds.

James collapsed onto the bed beside her, his breath heavy and labored. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as they both caught their breath. A sheen of sweat covers their bodies. She slowly took her nails off of his back and wrapped her arms around him. His touch was gentle and loving, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare skin. "𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶." he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and adoration.

She smiled softly, snuggling closer to him, her body still tingling with the remnants of their passion. "𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes, feeling his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin. Her eyes slowly closed as she fell asleep in his arms. James held her in his arms, feeling a sense of peace wash over him as he watched her drift off to sleep. His heart felt lighter, the weight of his guilt momentarily lifted. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, whispering softly, "I love you…." The room fell into a calm silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breaths.

ʚ🌻ɞ

As they approached the front desk, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes looked up from her paperwork. "You two look better." She said as James handed her back the keys to the room. James gave the woman a weak smile, his hand still intertwined with his lover's. "Yeah… We're doing okay," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and weariness. "Thank you for your help earlier." The woman nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "No problem, hon. I'm just glad I could be of assistance." She glanced down at the keys in her hand before she turned to put the keys away with the rest. "I hope you two find some peace… and happiness. Life can be tough sometimes, but it's important to hold onto the things that make us feel alive." James's grip on his lover's hand tightened, and he nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "You're right… We'll… We'll find our way." He turned to leave, but before he stepped out the door, he cast one last glance at the woman. "Thanks again. Take care." With that, James and his lover walked out of the hotel. Heading to his lovers car. "So.. Back to my please?" She asked him as she gently squeezed his hand. James looked at his lover with a soft smile, his eyes filled with affection. "Yeah, let's go back to your place," he replied, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on her lips. The touch of her lips against his brought warmth to his heart, a sense of warmth, comfort, and belonging that had been dead for three cold years.

[mumms-the-word]

Love Letters

Alistair and Lucy Amell

These letters were written as a collaboration between @callmethebrightness and myself for the lovely @elspethdekarios's birthday. callmethebrightness wrote the AMAZING letter from Alistair (and I'm obsessed with it, she nailed his voice so well) while I wrote Lucy Amell's reply letter <3 This was so much fun to work on and I am in awe of the talent my friends have in this little corner of tumblr. Thank you @elspethdekarios for trusting us with your OC! I hope you have the happiest of birthdays and that you adore these love letters!

Full text under the cut!

Alistair's Letter by @callmethebrightness

To Warden-Commander Lucy Amell, Hero of Ferelden: Lucy, I love you. I know, bad form to start a letter like that; without even a hello and how are you, but it's literally the only thing that comes to mind when I think of you, so I had to write it down first. I love you. There. Now to the rest. We're making strides looking into the Wardens and Corypheus, this "false Calling" he's managed, though it's not the sort of progress I'm particularly excited about. Every time I think I've figured out the worst of it, more bad news rears its ugly head. I'm a bit less skeptical now that we have some proper allies: not only the Champion of Kirkwall, but Inquisitor Sulah Lavellan, who has all her people putting their heads together to do something about all this. We should consider having an army at our disposal for all our problems, it's really marvelously convenient. Skyhold is an amazing place. Not just the fortress itself, where I've gotten into all sorts of places I shouldn't be ("Oh, I haven't seen this door before" -- surprise, it's a dungeon. No, thank you.) but the people and the activity here. It feels like everyone from the servants to the Inquisitor herself is committed to working together. I've met Fereldans, Orlesians, city elves, surface dwarves, ex-Templars, mages, farmers, nobles, Chantry sisters, Dalish spies, qunari, Tevinters...I could go on. If anything might be able to actually unite all of Thedas, the way the Chantry says it does, it's this thing. It's this place. Maker, I wish you could see it. Every time I see something incredible in my travels, I think that, you know. "Lucy would love this, I wish she could see it." And every time I see something horrible I think, "Maker, I wish Lucy was with me." You get the idea, don't you? You, with me, all the time, no matter what. Sometimes you're all I think about. But you knew that already. We're going to figure this thing out, Lucy. I'm going to make sure the Wardens have nothing more to fear from this Elder One, even if I have to fight him myself. And when you return, whether you've found what you're looking for or not, and I see you again -- I'm going to take you in my arms and never let you go. I mean it. That's not an exaggeration. I never want to be apart from you again, Lucy. Nothing is more important to me than that. What else? I love you. I miss you. Leliana is scarier than ever, but in a good way. I've eaten Orlesian cheese and do not care for it. I miss you. I told the Inquisition's ambassador I would include a small note in their missive to the Hero of Ferelden but my letter is now longer than the official one. I hope those creepy ravens of Leliana's can carry a little extra weight. When you see it, write her back and tell her it's creepy; she won't listen to me. There are less terrible birds, Leliana. Maker, I miss you so much I don't want to stop writing to you. Is that odd? Probably. But you wouldn't say odd. "Alistair, you're too sweet." That's what you always say when I'm being a fool, especially a lovestruck fool. Can't say I don't appreciate it, though. I'll write you again soon. There's talk of the fortress at Adamant, a potential siege. All sorts of military talk I do not care for. Whatever happens, you'll hear from me soon. I never can stand to wait long. Yours forever, Alistair

Lucy Amell's Letter (by me)

To Warden Alistair: [In a smaller script] Leliana, don’t be nosy! You’ve got your own letter! My darling, I love you. I don’t care if it’s bad form, just seeing those words at the start of your letter gave me so much joy and comfort that I couldn’t even read the rest of letter at first. I just wanted to linger there on those words and imagine them in your voice. I love you. I love you. I love you. And, Maker’s breath, I miss you, too. As my journey out west bring me farther and farther away from recognizable society, I find myself traveling alone more often than not. There are good people out here, and plenty of interesting distractions, and more than enough danger to keep my mind occupied, but again and again I wish you were at my side. I know taking down the Elder One is important, but these days I wish I had been more selfish and brought you along. But what’s done is done, and it’s good that you’re there, trying to shake some sense into our fellow Wardens. Someone has to.  What you’ve told me about the situation, and what little Inquisitor Lavellan has included in her letter, troubles me. It sounds like Corypheus is more dangerous than we thought…but if the Inquisition has the army and the resources that you say it does, then I trust them to succeed. And I trust you to survive whatever comes your way. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes, the two of us, haven’t we? Regardless, I’ve asked Inquisitor Lavellan to look after you. I know, I know, you would say I’m fussing over you too much (but I know you love it). But if she’s your ally, then she’s my ally too, and I feel no shame in asking this much of her. I want you in one piece when we meet again, my love. Be good for me. Don’t wander into dungeons that you can’t wander out of. Avoid the Orlesian cheese if you hate it so much. Remind Leliana to eat every now and again. I know her work keeps her busy, and I can only imagine that the death of the Divine has shaken her more than she’s letting on. And take care of yourself, too.  Oh, and I’m not telling Leliana that her birds are creepy. Just be glad she’s not sending missives via nug, or we’d never get letters to one another. I’ll write soon, my darling. I love you. I miss you. Yours always, Lucy [below, in a messier scrawl, as if added to the end of the page in haste] Alistair, I’m glad I didn’t send this letter right away! I’ve got big news. I think I’ve found something, and if I’m right, it means the end of this journey is in sight. I don’t want to say what it is just yet, but…I have a really good feeling about this. This might be the cure we’ve been hoping for.  But if not, I don’t care. If it’s not this, then I’ve got nothing else to investigate out here. If this isn’t our cure, then the silver lining is this—I’m coming home, and nothing is going to stop me. Meet me in Redcliffe when all of this is said and done. Whether I’ve found the cure for our Callings or not, I will be there, in the place we first started to fall in love, at the start of the next summer. And once we are together again, my love, I swear that nothing will ever separate us again. With all my love, Lucy

[quirkykaty]

Busted

Pairing: Crowley x F!Reader Warnings: SMUT (the one and only I've written so far, so feel free to judge), bit of fluff, bit of angst, getting caught (duh) Summary: When the cats are away, the mice will play. Sam and Dean pop out for a few hours and Crowley decides to pop in for a visit. Wordcount: >1000 Author's Note: I can't remember when or why I wrote this but it still makes me grin when I reread it so whatever. Crowley is such an ass but gods I love him.

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

“Bye! Call us if anything comes up, okay?” Sam called out to you from the door of the Bunker. Dean grinned at you over his shoulder and winked as he dragged his brother out the door. You laughed as the door closed on them, shaking your head at the grown men’s teenage antics.

Spinning on a heel, you made a bee-line for the kitchen. With Sam and Dean off to chase down a lead on the English Men of Letters, you had the Bunker all to yourself for a few hours and that meant one thing. Booze and a movie marathon in your pajamas. It was going to be fantastic.

Within an hour, you were splayed out on the couch in a ratty shirt that was several sizes too big and a pair of fuzzy black socks, with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the remote in the other. Having the boys out of the Bunker meant you could pull your secret stash of movies, ones that you’d never live down if the boys found out. The first on the list was the Princess Bride, a guilty pleasure even you were ashamed of.

“Westley was a bloody idiot for leaving Humperdink alive, if you ask me,” a voice behind you drawled, the familiar accent making your face go red in seconds. You cut off the movie and leapt up, whirling to face the smirking demon that was currently leaning against the wall. “Hello, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you squeaked as you came around to the other side of the couch, frantically glancing across the room to the Bunker’s main room. The boys could be back at any time and if they caught you here with him, there’d be hell to pay. No pun intended.

“I heard that Rocky and Bullwinkle were going to be out for the evening and thought I’d pop in to see my favorite little hunter,” he said with a dramatic pout, pushing off the wall and striding toward you until he was right in front of you. “Miss me?”

You flushed slightly at the closeness, his rough voice only adding to the fire building inside you. “You.. You can’t be here, Crowley. Sam and Dean will be back soon. If they catch us…” you trailed off, biting your lip nervously.

Crowley simply smirked and hooked a finger under your chin. “Then I suppose we should be quick about it, hm?” His eyes smoldered their smoky red as they travelled across your face. He knew exactly what it did to you to see his eyes like that. Grinning smugly, he leaned toward you, not touching you, not kissing you, just moving far enough into your space to make your whole body tense with anticipation. “Dammit, Crowley..” you growled, grabbing ahold of his jacket and pulling him the rest of the way to you. Crushing your lips against his, you gripped fistfuls of his jacket and shuffled back until your hips were against the back of the couch.

Without missing a beat, Crowley wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to his chest, kissing back with a passion that never failed to make you go weak in the knees. His hand slid down your back and hooked under your thighs, hoisting you up and spinning around. With a thought, you were across the room, trapped between the wall and Crowley’s body as the two of you moved together.

You broke the kiss first, head falling back against the wall as Crowley’s lips moved to your neck, nipping and kissing here and there to drive you wild. Your legs came up and wrapped around Crowley’s waist, prompting him to grind up against you. A small whimper rose out of your throat and you ran a hand into his hair, tugging gently. “No time for teasing.”

Crowley grunted and tugged your earlobe between his teeth, smirking impishly as he rolled his hips against yours once more. The two of you vanished again, back to the couch, where he pushed you down, shedding clothes while you tugged off your panties.

Within seconds, he was on top of you, one hand under your thigh and the other trailing up your side, under your shirt. Your lips met in a desperate kiss as he pushed into you, drawing a moan from you and a faint hiss from him. He set a rough pace from the start, hands wandering, seeking flesh wherever they could find it.

It wasn’t long until you were both tumbling over the edge of ecstasy, your moans and his echoing off the walls of the Bunker. Panting heavily, he pressed his face into your neck as you both came down from the high. Your fingers traced shapes on his back while you caught your breath, chuckling weakly as you pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Pushing up on a hand after a moment, Crowley gazed down at you, head cocked to the side as he gave you his trademark smirk. “Well, that was a rather rousing workout, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have to send the boys away more often,” you said with a giggle, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“When you do, make sure you find out when they’re coming home,” a third voice piped up from somewhere in the room. You squeaked and bolted up on the couch, moving so quickly you smacked your head into Crowley’s. He yelped and put a hand to his head as the two of you turned to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway of the Bunker’s living room.

“Busted,” Crowley muttered, giving you an almost apologetic smile before vanishing from the room, leaving you to face the fallout on your own.

[nix-fics]

"That's a Good Goodbye" Eddie Munson x Reader

This is my first time writing anything with Eddie and anything even remotely steamy so yk hope you like it-

Eddie was leaving on a weekend trip with Wayne that morning.

Last night you two had called and created the plan. He would meet you in your garage at 8AM and you'd spend an hour or two together before his drive.

You closed the door to the garage behind you, "Good morning" his voice filled your heart with warmth.

You handed him your letter and he pulled you in his lap as he opened it,

"Sorry it's kinda chicken scratch-' you defended your sloppy cursive.

"It's beautiful," he mumbled kissing your temple "...but what does this word say?"

You giggled but supplied the word you had written.

He finished reading with a few squeezes to your thighs. "Thank you. I really do mean it, thank you for this"

"You could thank me another way..." You joked.

Fortunately Eddie took it seriously. "If that's what you'd like-" he slowly brought his lips to yours.

Almost unsurely.

You learned forward closing the gap. The two of you simply kissed for a little while, till his hands started wandering. You giggled a bit but it was completely swallowed by Eddie's lips.Your lips clashed, giggles were muffled between kisses.

His tongue toyed at your lips, you opened quickly turning your head a bit but he pulled away with a whispered.

"Sorry" You giggled at his shyness, your eyes flickered between both of his, "you're fine, that was fine-"

he might have said something but you put your arms around his neck and put your lips back on his before he could apologize again. You licked at his lips, trying to get him to do that again. "Come on that was good-" you muttered against his lips.

Slowly he brought a hand to your neck and brought you to his lips again. He was very reserved, almost as if to make sure you were okay.

Everything he did was steady, slow and calculated. You lightly scratched the hair at the back of his head

"I love you-" you mumbled against his lips. He pulled away to look at you, perched on his lap, his hand on your hips.

"I love you too"

"So stop hesitating- you're fine-"

It was like a switch flipped, soon enough Eddie was all hands and tongue. Hand on your ass, the other under your shirt, softly rubbing at your breasts while his mouth worked magic, tongue swirling, teeth nipping and sucking at your lips.

You couldn't help but let out a small groan. You felt his lips grin on yours, and his chest rumbled as if he was laughing at you.

You pulled away "What?” you challenged, arms still around his neck, looking down at him

"You making fun of me?"

"No" he chuckled "you just bite a lot-"

You scoffed "whatever, I'll just stop then"

"Well I never said I didn't like it"

"Mhm, riight" you teased, his breath hot on your lips.

"Oh whatever" he mumbled, kissing you again. You seemed to find a rhythm in the kiss and soon his hands started to wander, from your ass to your hip to between your legs. You gasped a bit at the feeling, His fingers danced there for a second before he pulled away

"I'm sorry-"

"That's fine-" you muttered "just new"

"Are you okay with that though?"

"Yeah it's fine"

"But fine or-"

"Eddie." You cut him off with a kiss and grabbed his hand guiding it back to its magic spot. "It's good, great even. I like it stop worrying"

He took that seriously cause within a second his hand was rubbing and his lips were pressed to your own. Back and forth, he'd rub slow for a bit and then harder. your breath became labored, between his hand between your legs and the other under your shirt you were slowly losing your mind.

"you're so pretty, I love you, you're so so so pretty" your breath was heavy and eyes were closed as you muttered against his lips

"Your eyes are closed, princess." he chuckled, still rubbing between your legs gently but still deliberately.

"I just had my eyes open, and I've seen you this morning, you're very pretty. I know you're still pretty right now." You mumbled, leaning down to kiss his lips again. The kiss lasted till you ran out of air, and when you came out of it you, unashamedly, took a second to catch your breath.

Eddie pulled away slightly "Are you good?"

You just nodded, one hand tangled in the hair at the back of his head, the other under his shirt, running up and down his torso, almost scratching.

"You sure? You're breathing pretty hard-"

"I'm good, really good. So good-" you blabbered, already pulling him back to your lips.

He giggled this time against your lips, you sat back a bit rolling your eyes, "you done?" He laughed again but brought the hand under your shirt to your neck and guided your lips back to his.

"Not yet”

[sannasruins]

letters from my love

aizawa shouta x reader

type: angst with some fluff sprinkled sporadically, part two to my letters to you but can probably be read stand-alone as well

warning: major character death, grief

a/n: regular text is present, italics are your handwriting, flash backs have tildes (~) enclosing them. reader is refered to with she/her pronous and as "wife". this turned out way more self insert-y than anything else i've written but not for lack of trying, i just couldn't have things be less specific lol, sorry to anyone who doesn't like rain, bugs, and baking

word count: 5.3k

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would wake to find your side of the bed cold. He would get up in search of you and would find you bathed in yellow light at the kitchen table, scribbling away at paper. He would ask you what you were doing, when you were coming back to bed, and you would answer him, writing letters, and soon honey I’m almost done. Content with your answers and much too groggy to ask who you were writing letters to, he would make his way back upstairs and into the warmth of bed. And just as you told him, you would soon slip under the covers and cuddle into your husband’s warm and loving embrace.

Shouta gingery removed one of the sealed envelopes from the box, a small sticker keeping it closed. He turned it around to see the back of the letter and his heart started pounding faster when he saw the scrawl of your handwriting. He tried hard to focus on the words in front of him, though he found it increasingly difficult. He closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, then reopening them and trying again to read what was addressed to him.

It first rains after I’m gone.

That was your handwriting, but what could that mean? Looking up, he noticed something he hadn’t in his rush to see the contents of the box. On the lid, cut out of construction paper, were the words OPEN WHEN. 

Open when it first rains after I’m gone.

What were these? He put down the first letter and reached for another. You turn 30. Another. It’s been a year. Another. It’s my birthday. You turn 26. It snows. You really miss me. You notice a beautiful sunset. You turn 45. You get sick for the first time after I’m gone. You loose a battle. You turn 28. It’s our wedding anniversary. You find this box. He paused, was this the one he was supposed to read first?

He flipped through the rest of the box, it looked like you had written letters for all of his birthdays, up until he turned 80. That was 55 letters alone. But there were other letters mixed in with them, letters for the changing seasons, letters for coffee dates and weather. And a few of the letters, it seemed, were ones for him to deliver to others, their friends, their fellow heroes. His brows furrowed and two schools of thought argued in his brain. He was mad, mad that you thought you had to do this, mad that your thoughts had been proven right, mad that you knew there was a chance you were going to leave him behind on this miserable planet without you. But he was also grateful, grateful that you loved him so much that you didn’t want to leave him behind with nothing, grateful that you had left him bits of you to have for the rest of his life, his only salvation trying to spread herself past her mortal boundaries.

Open when: you find this box.

He carefully peeled back the sticker that sealed the envelope closed, not wanting to tear the fragile paper. Inside was nice looking stationery, the design suited you, he thought, folded neatly into thirds, front and back covered in your words, the ink holding just a slight fraction of all that you were. He pulled the paper out of its bindings, and delicately unfolded it, revealing the beginning. 

Dear Shouta, my love, 

If you are reading this, that probably means that I am gone, that or you found this while cleaning the closet, and we will be having a rather embarrassing conversation soon.

He let out an amused exhale, but the breath he drew back in held somberness.

My love, I’m sorry that I was the one to leave first, I promise you I never wanted these preparations I’ve made to ever have to be used, I would much rather prefer if we got to grow old together, retire from being heroes, maybe move out to the sunny country, and live our lives long and peaceful. But we’re heroes, aren’t we? We’ve dedicated so much of our lives, from such a young age, to be able to protect and put ourselves on the line for the greater good. 

I hope I went out heroically, maybe not a blaze of glory but, not on the losing side of the battle when it was all said and done. Maybe even I won in the end? You wouldn’t wanna be married to a loser, now would you?

“You did,” he murmured to himself, having completely forgotten his friend across the table from him, “I’d rather be married to you as a looser than anyone else though, a wife who is a looser sounds a lot better than a wife who is dead.” He continued to read.

I wish you could know how much I love you, my Shouta, how much I wish for you. I would give you the world if I could, heavens know I tried. Please do not let my efforts be in vain my love, do not let my departure be the thing that crashes and burns the path that you have painstakingly forged for yourself. 

Crash and burn he thought bitterly, oh the irony. 

I will be waiting for you, dearest, wherever the soul goes where it dies, I will be waiting for you at the start, so that neither of us will be alone. But please, do not join me prematurely, I won’t greet you with joy if you did that, Shouta. Live a long, long life, make it worthwhile, if not for yourself, then for me, please. You have so much left to do. Maybe try teaching, you were always so great with children, teach them better, teach them the hard lessons we had to learn ourselves so that they won’t make the same mistakes their predecessors made.

With all my love, my whole heart, my soul, and my entire being,

Y/n.

That’s where the first letter ended. He sat back, not ready to process everything it had contained, so he moved his focus to his previously forgotten friend.

“Hizashi, there’s a letter for you, in here too,” he nodded towards the box, “there’s actually a couple not addressed to me.” He pulled the letters, which were for your mutual friends and fellow heroes, out of the box, and handed them to the blonde. There seemed to be a silent understanding that it was now Hizashi’s duty to deliver the letters to their recipients, Shouta probably wouldn’t be ready to do that for a long while, and they deserved to receive their messages in their times of grief. 

Aizawa Shouta didn’t go back to work for a while, instead staying in the house the two of you had made into a home. He wasn’t a useless mound of grief the entirety of his stay indoors though. He had decided to do what you told him, and looked into getting his teaching license, taking online courses while slowly cleaning the home. He was never going to get rid of your presence in the space, it was as much yours as it was his, even if you were no longer there. But he needed to get your clothes out of the shared closest, and your products off of the bathroom vanity, carefully being tucked away. He placed more pictures of you around the house, pictures of your wedding day, of your after-school dates, of late night patrols together, decorated all of the walls and filled many empty surfaces.

 Monsoon season had arrived, and it had been a month since your passing that the first real rain happened, it was now June, and the air was hot, balmy. The afternoon rain brought some relief from the heat of summer, and he knew it was time to read his second letter.

Open when: It first rains after I’m gone.

He sat down in the living room, into the plush arm chair that faced the windows, he reminisced on all the days just like this one, where you would sit and listen to the rain, your book of the week resting in your hands, the only other sounds breaking the patter of rain being you turning the page, and the noises you made in reaction to what new words you were taking in, a gasp, a giggle, a snort.

Hi Shouta, 

Are you sitting in my chair right now? Are you watching the rain? 

Never again will anyone know him as well as you did.

I know you have mixed feelings about rain, it seems to almost always show up in the moments that feel fitting for it, for you at least. I’m sure you know how much I love the rain though, the rhythmic pounding, the flash and crash of lightning and thunder. Do you remember that day in our third year, both of us had forgotten to bring umbrellas, you wanted to wait until the rain had let up, but there was no telling when that would be, and I wanted us to just walk out into the rain.

~ “Come on Shouta,” you called out joyfully, “it’s just water.” You stood in the courtyard of the school, most of the students gone now but those that were just leaving looking at you strangely as you spun in the rain. You walked back to where he was standing under the awning, and took both of his hands in yours, pulling gently on him, to bring him out of the shelter and into the downpour. ~

You were so worried I was going to catch a cold; I was more worried about you though. I didn’t want you to be so cautious in life, over such little things, even if we both caught colds, it would be better than waiting, watching, for something that may never come. Shouta, my dear, I don’t know if you're waiting for a sign, a sign to move on, a sign to live, a sign to die. That sign may never come. So let the rain be your sign, let the rain tell you to come out, to feel alive, to dance under it, even if your clothes will get wet, even if you get a cold. I don't want you to move on from me as much as you don't, but that doesn't mean you have to forget me, my love. I will be in every drop of rain that kisses your skin. 

He lowered the letter and looked outside to the darkened clouds. He got up, placing the letter on the coffee table, before slipping on his shoes and heading out the front door. He stood there, in the rain, for quite a while. The droplets mixing with his tears as they hit his face, trying to feel you in every single one of them. He stood there, until the rain started to let up, the color of the clouds fading to a lighter gray, and the sting of the rain turned gentler. He shook the water out of his hair, and turned around, back towards the house. It seemed to have a new air about it, something, maybe, slightly less heavy, or maybe it was just his imagination. He headed back inside, something different about him too, though he couldn’t see it, maybe the rain had washed away something heavy, maybe you had kissed away some of the pain. 

The Butsadan* he had gotten to place in your home held 2 pictures of you, one that he had taken on that very first crepe date, chocolate staining one corner of your mouth as you grinned at him, and one he had taken on your wedding day, looking so lovely in your dress, a gentle, loving smile gracing your lips as you looked at him with such adoration. He never let the flowers at your alter wither, changing out the water daily and the flowers every week, trying to pick out ones you would have liked, while keeping it mixed up so you wouldn’t become bored with the same thing every week. He would light incense twice a day, in the morning, before he left the house, and in the evenings, while he ate dinner, so you in a sense would still be there, eating with him. It was always one of your favorite scents, he knew you well enough to know, what scented lotions or shampoos you would choose, which candles and waxes you always gravitated towards. It was nice and reminded him of the times where he would get to smell the sweet scents every time you walked past him, the air carrying it faintly to his nose. He would leave your favorite buns and candies on the alter, never going too long without changing them out for something fresh, he didn’t ever want you to have something stale.

He started back at his hero work, and applied at several hero training high schools, and was surprised when his former school, UA accepted his application and hired him on for the next school year. 

It was September when he opened the next letter, it had been 4 months now since you left, and he was walking along the sidewalk of a riverbank, like the two of you often did in high school. He saw couples that looked like the two of you did back then, youthful and full of spirit and hope, he tried not to feel envious of the teenagers, though it was hard . He trained his weary eyes forward, and paused for a moment, and how beautiful the sunset was that evening. He wondered to himself if there were any sunsets as beautiful as this in the days that he walked home with you, that he never noticed because the most beautiful thing in the whole world walked right next to him, and everything else just paled in comparison. He hoped the teenage couples he saw earlier also noticed how spectacular the sunset in front of them way, and that they were grateful to see such a beautiful thing with one another. He headed home, to read his letter.

Open when:  You see a beautiful sunset

Hi Honey,

I’ve seen a lot of people say, when they pass, look for them in the sunsets, that they will paint an especially beautiful one for all that miss them. Please don’t look for me in the sunsets, Shouta, I don’t think that’s where I’ll be waiting for you. I’m not entirely sure where you may find me hidden, my love, so you better keep your eyes peeled. I wish I was there though, to see another beautiful sunset with you, so admire them twice as much, once for you, once for me. 

Maybe I’ll be one of those cool mantises, 

Your lovely wife.

Bemused, Shouta thought back to your class 1A mountain training camp.

~ You had wandered off while most of the group cleaned the used dishes, having already helped by being one of two to cook their dinner. He had just started to wonder where you had gone off to as your group was wrapping up cleaning the dishes, when you came practically prancing back into the clearing and towards your friends, something gleaming in your hands.

“Look! Look at what I caught!” you brandished off your daring find, an impressively large rhinoceros beetle. Some of the group around you screamed, the loudest of them all being Yamada Hizashi, an ear-splitting shriek escaping his lips as he jumped back from the creature and its captor. You giggled slightly but apologized to the blond, it wasn’t your intention to scare him, this was just a really cool beetle. He had a sour look on his face as he shakily nodded at you before backing away slowly, not turning to face the building he was going towards until he was 50 meters away from you, what he deemed to be safe. You looked after him with a face of mixed emotions, feeling bad for scaring him, and bummed he didn’t think your bug was cool. Shouta stepped next to you, getting your attention and distracting you from the disappearing figure of the angry Hizashi. 

“Do you know what kind of beetle it is?” he had asked you, trying his best to seem genuinely curious, he was, but he knew he wasn’t always the best at showing it. Your expression quickly changed as you smiled at the ebony haired boy, launching into maybe one too many bug facts about your interesting find. He didn’t mind though, that was one of the moments he fell for you a little more. ~

P.S. Some large species of mantis in captivity can live up to two years! It’s crazy to think how short their lives are to ours, but to them it is their entire existence. I think though, I would be okay even being a Karner Blue butterfly, which lives for only five days, if those five days I got to spend with you, flying around in a field warmed by the summer sun. 

Shouta put down the letter, and raised his eyes, just in time to see the last slivers of light disappear from the horizon, the beautiful sunset having lived its course and gone, making way for a warm summer night, the singing of cicadas fading with the light.

Time seemed to continue its endless march on into the future, in spite of anyone who begged it to slow, to pause just a moment, and let someone gather themselves, put themselves together just a bit more, just a bit better. And soon it was Aizawa Shouta’s 26th birthday, and the first birthday in over a decade that he would have to spend without you, and your warm little parties and cute cakes you would bake. 

Hizashi came and picked him up, insisting that you wouldn’t want Shouta to stay home, all alone, on his birthday. The two of them headed into the social district of town, and into a popular bar for heroes and sidekicks. Shouta nursed on two beers through the night as he watched his friend mingle with the crowd, though never straying too far away from the birthday boy sitting at the bar. At the end of the night, the dark eyed man had a slight buzz to him, his chest holding more heat than normal, but he wasn’t near drunk, he couldn’t say the same thing about his green-eyed friend though, whose face was flushed and words slurring together in jumbled nonsense. Shouta put Hizashi’s arm over his shoulders as he led them out of the bar, the arm heavy with intoxication and non-compliance.

“Nooooo,” the blond groaned as they the street the bar resided on, “comonnnnnn Shouta, te nightstill youg,” he broke away, and spun on the heel of his toe, twisting under the city lights in the nearly deserted street.

Shouta sighed, “yes, but we’re getting olddddd,” he drew out the last syllable of his last word, in lighthearted mockery of his inebriated friend, he beckoned towards where he stood safely on the sidewalk “come on I’d like to get home now.”

The blond looked at him, with what must to have been his attempt at puppy eyes, “but I don’t want you to be all alone tonight.”

“I won’t be alone tonight,” he mused, “she’ll be there too, in spirit at least, but,” he paused and looked at his heavily drunk friend, “I’ll let you crash on the couch if you promise to not throw up in or on anything.”

Hizashi grinned at Shouta, “mkayyyy,” and started his way off in the direction he thought was your home, only to have Shouta grasp him by the shoulder and turn him a sharp 90 degrees, “wrong way” he chided, Hizashi nodded and parroted his friend “wrong way.”

The second they passed the threshold into your home, Hizashi passed out, leaving his poor friend to pry off his shoes, and drag him to the couch, where he unceremoniously tossed him. He went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and sipped while looking at the snoring man on his couch. Pursing his lips, he begrudgingly filled another glass and set it on the coffee table, along with an aspirin, before leaving the ground floor of his home and heading up to his bedroom. He caught himself in his thinking. Was this the first time he had thought of it not as a shared yours but now only his? A wave of guilt washed over him, he didn’t want that kind of thinking to come, he didn’t ever want to stop thinking about you, about your lingering presence in his life. He swallowed, hard, he was a bit too tipsy to be thinking about those kinds of things, he could think about it later, in the morning. The pounding headache he knew he would have might be a suitable punishment for his straying thoughts he decided. It was time to open the letter.

He had saved it for the end of his day, wanting the last bits of his thoughts to be on you, maybe it was partly saving the best, and most painful, for last. The letter just being another form of him having to accept that you weren't here to wish him well. 

Open when: You turn 26.

This letter felt bulkier than the ones he had read before, and when he carefully with hands of practice, though he wished they weren't, opened the letter, he saw three 1000 yen notes, with a small sticky note attached to them. The sticky note read ‘getcha self sumthin nice ;)’. He moved on to the letter.

Happy birthday my love!

He smiled, his eyes already starting to tear. 

You’re 26 now, do you feel any different? Are your bones starting to hurt? Does the rain make your joints act up yet? You know that’s coming up, it’ll be here before you notice. I hope you’re making the best of the time you have before that, though I also hope you make the best of the time you have during and after that as well. Do you like your present? I would have gotten you something better but there’s not much that you can fit into an envelope, besides paper, though at least it’s paper with monetary value! I know! I’ve truly outdone myself! You’re probably going “ohhhh y/n, you know me so well, this colorful paper with a dude on it is just the thing I wanted!”

I’m sorry I’m not there Sho, to spend it with you, I wish I was. I hope it’s not too painful without me, I hope you have a good time on your birthday, maybe go out, have dinner with out friends. I don’t want you to be alone my love.

Sincerely, truly, one hundred percent without a doubt, 

The world’s best gift giver, aka, your y/n. 

The was a soft drip, the sound of water hitting paper, before he realized he was crying. He folded the letter and returned it to its envelope, not wanting to mess it up further, as he cried to himself. He reached out and found the small stuffed animal he had come to rely on in your absence, and pushed his face into the plush of its body, inhaling, trying to calm down. But the thing had long lost your scent, and now, to him, it smelt of nothing at all. 

He fell asleep that night, clasping onto the stuffed creature as if it were his only lifeline, the image of him sleeping reminiscent of not too far in the past, when he had just lost you. 

Time marched ever onwards.

It was 4 days before Christmas when the first snow of the season came. Everyone was joyous and hoping it would last until the romantic holiday, wishing for a white Christmas. Shouta was out on patrol, in the late evening, when it started, getting to witness it along with those going home, from an extra-long days work, from the packed bars in the city, from cram schools as they study for the upcoming finals. He was alone though, crouching on top of a midrise as his eyes scanned back alleys, searching for darting shadowy figures, considering the white flurries only a hindrance as they obscured more and more of his vision, until it became clear that he would no longer be able to stalk his prey with his vision blocked out in the sheets of icy precipitation. His breath fogged the air as he sighed angrily, not wanting to let them get away but not being able to stop the forces of nature, though how he wished he was bend them to his will just this one time.

He decided to go home, that he was ill prepared for this and could try again tomorrow, in warmer clothes and more suitable gear. 

When he arrived home, after he had unburden himself from his gear, past when he padded into the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove to boil, only when he sat down in your chair, a warm mug of fresh coffee in his callused hands, one sugar, no cream, did he look out the window, and see, really see the snow. 

Open when: It snows.

There was no dear Shouta, my love or honey to open this letter. 

Do you remember, our third year of high school, during winter break, that night we stayed out under the stars and snow? I can see it so vividly even now, I think that hast to have been the night I fell in love with you, though of course I didn’t say it then. His Purple Highness had us out patrolling by ourselves, truly by ourselves, no senior heroes notified that we were out without a supervisor on the same streets or back at headquarters, a taste of freedom that we would soon know every day. We started just as the sun had started to set, heading out, our winter costumes to keep us toasty. It wasn’t really boring, but it was mundane, as we strolled around the streets, keeping a look out for any shady behavior. 4 hours in, just before 9pm, you stopped in front of a cafe that was getting ready to close. I didn’t notice you had stopped until I was 10 meters ahead, and you hadn’t noticed that I continued on, because you were staring inwards. I walked halfway back and called out your name, you turned your head, surprised that I was so far away and not directly next to you. You pointed inside and made a drinking motion with your hand. I protested, Shouta we’re on the job right now, and you smiled at me, nose glowing red in the yellow light let out from the homey shop, its fine, you insisted, they won’t know what we don’t tell them. And you took me by the hand and pushed into the cafe. You already knew my order, which surprised me, I didn’t think you were the type to notice and remember those kinds of things, but it filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies that threatened to come up my throat. We sat at a little table by the window while we waited for our order to be ready, you wrapping both your hands around mine, rubbing and blowing hot air on my frozen fingers, wordlessly. I thought I was going to barf butterflies. Our orders were ready before I knew it, and I didn’t want them to be, I wish they had taken longer to make those little coffees. We left the warm haven of the shop and went back into the cold night. You told me to hold my drink with both hands, I blushed and asked you, did you want to get coffee just so I had something warm to hold? Your face flushed and you looked out, away from me and towards the street. A car passed by as you answered, I almost didn’t hear, but you told me yes. 

~He remembered the embarrassment of being called out, but also pride, that you had noticed, and were happy about his little gestures. He couldn’t hold your hand while the two of you patrolled, and even your winter costume had forgone gloves, so he had watched as the night grew longer, the color of your fingers redden. He watched you occasionally rubbing them together, blowing into them, or scrunching them absentmindedly, trying to keep them warm while unaware of your actions, but he was aware.~

The rest of the night wasn’t eventful, except when we stopped that guy robbing a corner store, though we took him out pretty quickly. The cashier was so thankful that she gave us those little handwarmers while we waited for the police to come pick up the attempted robber. I was so happy that she gave us those because my fingers were returning to their freezing temperature and all the cafes were long closed. After that day though, I started finding handwarmers like those in the pockets of my school bag, in my shoe locker, in my jacket. I knew it was you, by the way, I never told you that. Thank you for thinking of me always, my love. We got off at 1 am, we had ended our patrol by a park, and even though most of the city was dark, and even though I’m sure you were cold and tired and hungry, when I suggested we play in the snow, you bent down, I thought you were ignoring me and tying your shoe, and I turned around with a sigh, that was until I felt the cold splat of a snowball on the small of my back! I whipped around and you were grinning, bearing all your teeth, the look in your eye, if I wasn’t so determined to get back at you, I would have been swooning, at least I still was internally. 

~You quickly bent down and mashed snow together into a messy ball before you launched it at him, trying to wipe that grin off his face before he noticed your blush. The two of you launched into an all-out snow war. Shouta had the upper hand in the beginning, as he had made several quick balls before he launched his first attack at your unsuspecting back, but you rapidly leveled the playing field. ~

He couldn’t remember now who had won that night. That didn’t really matter though, because he could still remember the wide grin that made his heart, even to this day, do backflips.

We played in the snow like we were little again, until we gave out, and lay on our backs next to one another, and looked to the sky, watching as the flakes slowly drifted down from dark gray clouds. Your cold hand, with fingers stiff from snow, reached out and grasped my cold hand, and squeezed. Both of us were still panting hard from all the fun we had had. As we laid there, hand in hand, I thought to myself, I love him. I think that’s the same moment I decided I was never going to let you go. There’s not really a moral to this story, besides me telling you the night I realized I loved you, I think I just want to remind you of happy things, the snow can feel kind of depressing now that we’re older, if we don’t look at it through the right eyes. So, look at it through the eyes of the Shouta who threw a snowball at my back. 

The definite winner of that snowball fight, 

Your love, Y/n.

*shrines used for the deceased in homes, originally of Buddhist origin but now used non-denominationally as well.

there may be a part 3? i was planning on doing all of the letters (excluding the birthdays) that i listed, but it kept getting longer and longer. let me know if you would like a part 3, i think if even 1 person asked me, i would write it lol

[raising-harmony]

[Pelipper Mail]

[You are gifted a hand woven wooden gift basket, placed inside are two plushes of the legendary dragons; Reshiram and Zekrom. Along with this is a small goody bag of caramelized sugar dipped pecha berries and a hand written note written in neat cursive writing, the note goes as follows:

"𝓘 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓾𝓹 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓢𝓸 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻��.

𝓐𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱, 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮, 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓶 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮, 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽'𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶, 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓐𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓾𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮.

𝓐𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓘 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓫𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓲𝓭 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓶 𝓹𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓘 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻...

𝓘'𝓶 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓣𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓘'𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂... 𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓮𝓼, 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓭.

𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂, 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓔𝓾𝓻𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓶𝓮."]

This was awfully kind of you. The plush dragons are simply wonderful, not to mention surprisingly accurate to what I have seen. Your craftsmanship is impressive. I know N will love them. Perhaps he could take one with him during his doctor visit for a bit of comfort.. We shall see. Thank you.

I'm curious of your polaroid story. It sounds awfully strange.

Finally, as for Lacunosa Town, it is rather unfortunate to hear you had such difficulty. I cannot say I'm surprised by this. Nevertheless, good hearing from you, and again, we appreciate the gifts.

(for anyone having difficulty reading the font, the text has been pasted plain under the cut!)

"I recently checked back up on your blog and found out about your attempts to diagnose the young prince and how much this stressed the poor thing. So I thought gifts were in order for his bravery,

As such, in the basket I've gifted are two plushes of the dragons you seem to like and that you hinted that the prince will one day command, they are hand made, of course. The one of Reshiram is actually microwavable, leave it in one and it'll come out toasty and warm, very soothing. As for the candies, keep them in a fridge until after his evaluation and you should be fine.

Apologies if there are inaccuracies, I didn't have many reference photos nor drawings to go by whilst sewing, only good enough photo I had was a polaroid photo a strange young lady gifted me in some random pokecenter before disappearing before I could question her...

I'm aware you wished for an update on my endeavors with Lacunosa Town, but I'd rather overly length this letter with my..... Troubles and issues, unfriendly people to outsiders indeed.

From yours truly, Lady Eurynome" (?)

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: 8 photos of a letterpress broadside printed from handset type and a linoleum block illustration. the poem is titled The Secrets of Magic, written by a young poet for the 2023 edition of Words of Courage. it describes the magic powers of a world with mermaids, dragons, wizards, and magical animals, and a game the creatures play. The text is set in Goudy Oldstyle in a justified block in the center, with a red drop-cap and red fleurons to mark the line breaks. the linoleum block is a wide border illustrating a magical flying dog on the left, a witch or wizard in flowing dress on the right, parts of a fishy tail and dragon claws and crashing waves across the bottom, and the light rays of the magic staff and the dog's halo of power intersecting across the top. full text under the cut. end description.]

🎉🎉 weekend activities: delivering my part of the edition for this year's Words of Courage publication :)) 🎉🎉

WoC is a yearly publication of poetry broadsides written by patients at Seattle Children's Hospital, and designed, printed, and handbound into portfolios by local letterpress & book artists. this year's whole edition will be scanned and posted there in a couple weeks & previous years are always there to see!

i've been trying not to overthink it when we do the poetry assignment step—if i have a single design Thought the first time i read a poem, it goes on my list to fight for. i read this one and thought yes 1930s illustrated fairy tales, y e a h hefty border and one (1) spot color, y e h Beardsley's Le Morte D'Arthur, John Austen's Hamlet—a dream assignment :)) just wanted to make their story as cool and dramatic as it could be—an excerpt of a larger work, part of an Artifact.

i have meandered off historical accuracy firstly by uh using linoleum instead of wood and the line quality is markedly different for it and, also, i warmed it up from a classic black key plate BUT at least one person did look at it and immediately say sure sure turn of the century book illustration i get you, so i will judge it a success. very fun to carve. i left the spellcaster's clothes for last because i knew i would enjoy that the most. title in Devinne, body set in Goudy; both of those cases are pretty worn but that's not necessarily bad in this instance and also i needed a pretty full case to get the body done in one go!!

I will call it a misjudgement to have done the text as a red underprinter/brown overprinter as i did—unlocking and re-locking the forme without the cap & fleurons went fine, but there are instances of mis-alignment in the type between the two passes that from sheet to sheet don't look to me like a registration issue. They're not consistent with torque of the sheet, they shift around the forme a bit; i have a suspicion that i shouldn't have done this with a letter-spaced forme, which is pretty spongy with brasses and coppers and may have made small expansions and returns as the run went on. hubris comes for all, lesson learned, etc.

full poem text: "We all have regular animals. — But in the deepest, deepest part of the world — there are magical animals —like talking animals, unicorns, and dragons. — All animals have a good owner. — Regular people have regular animals. — But magical animals have wizards, and witches, and mermaids. — I talk to animals, but I don't understand them. — I would like to have a talking dog that has magic (like Louis). — All magical animals have their own magic: — like moving things around with telekinesis, — and mind reading, — turning objects into different objects, — forming into an object or person (very powerful) — flying, — or turning invisible. — One of my pet dogs will have talking ability, — because she likes to talk a lot and bark. — And another one will have teleporting ability; — she likes to sneak up on people. — And another dog I know — will have mind reading. — Together we'll make a game out of all our powers. — We'll hide around 30 objects. — And the dogs will use their powers to find the things, — and whoever has the most objects at the end — will get a prize of a big bowl of sandwich meat, — but because they're magical they'll get colorful meat!"

[kaizenkhaos]

So I thought I'd write a little something based on @harringroveera post about Steve asking Robin about a certain thing XD

Due to the mature themes, I've kept the fic under the Read More. Nothing too heavy, just a bit of little smut where our pretty boy may like what he's getting through the post ;)

"Robin, is it gay to get a dick pick from your arch nemesis?"

Of all the things Robin thought would come out of Dingus' mouth today, this was not one of them. It was a Tuesday, school night, so it had been busier during the rush between school close and dinner time, but now it had calmed down. The occasional pensioner and couple gracing their presence but otherwise the store was pretty empty save them. Hence them taking their usual pondering spot whilst taking a break from sorting out new stock. The remainders of which was stacked neatly on the counter in alphabetical order. Something which Robin had done painstakingly to help them later whilst Steve had updated a bunch of membership records. Keith wouldn't have seen the beauty of it, seeing it as a waste of time, but Robin knew better. And every time Keith had thought it up, she'd shown him. Yet he still thought his way was better.

Not that that mattered when Dingus here had just dropped that bombshell on her lap.Time to pass it back.

"No, it's only gay if you get off on it."

She'd have not said that to anyone else but Steve who she knew would now take it in the spirit it was intended in. Months ago though? She'd have shot some snarky remark back at it, still mad at having to work with a priveleged guy who was only slinging ice cream because he was mad daddy had cut his allowance. Little knowing the real reason for his appearance at Scoops until later on.

"Okay, then I have something to tell you."

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Steve had said something which felt like bombshell volleyball was now undergoing and she wasn't wearing the correct outfit of it. Baffled, she turned to him. Where on earth was he going with this? Wait….was this what he meant by helping non babes alike? Had it been a code which she, Robin, master of code breaking, decoder of Russians, hadn't seen, let alone cracked? Steve knew about her after all. The bathroom hadn't ever been the choice of place she'd have envision for such an event. But the timing had not also been much in her favour and it had been both a gentle way to let Steve down and a platform for her to say what she'd been meaning to say to him all long. When they'd been talking about girls.When she'd finally realised she'd gotten him all wrong and he wasn't that guy anymore. He was a friend and she'd wanted to tell him this. She'd wanted to show him herself as much as he was showing her himself.

"What did you do now, Steve?" The question fell out of her mouth before she could stop it. Not sounding as gentle as she'd have wanted, given what the answer could be, but Steve was used to her directness. So as much as she felt a pang of guilt, the worry about how she'd come across wasn't there anymore. The look Steve gave her proved that she didn't have to worry about that. Oh no, she had something else to worry about.

She knew who Steve's arch nemesis was. They all did and she had a feeling that she was not going to like the next words that fell out of Steve's mouth.

And oh was she right about that one…

Two weeks ago

Receiving mail wasn't something that Steve got often these days. Gone with the days of love letters in his locker and the occasional badly written death threat which was usually either some usurper or Tommy H playing a prank. The second ones more being able drowning him in beer than girls then anything at all serious. The former being empty threats which were easily dealt with. Now, usually, the only things poking themselves through his door was bills for his parents, the occasional small package of craft stuff for his mom and the occasional letter for him. Reminders of car insurance and that sorta stuff making their presence known. Rarely had he received a hand written note or envelope, the handwriting both strangely familiar and not through the door. But that day had broken with tradition and baffled, Steve had stared at the envelopes for a few moments, opening the door to see if the deliverer was still about and then slowly closing it to the empty drive. Probably just the mail man anyway. What the hell was this?

He'd made his way up to his room, two steps at a time as he ripped open the envelope and padded into his room. Instead of pulling out a note, it was a polaroid and as soon as he pulled it out, he stopped in place. Just like his heart did before it started to hammer through his chest and he paced quickly over his head.

It had taken him a moment to notice what it actually was in the picture. The angle not making it 100% obvious at the start and the size making it mind boggling to boot.But once he got it, man had he got it and slumping down on his bed, back rigid as he sat 90 degrees upright, as if his whole body was standing to attention, as well as that now straining for attention inside his pants. The bulge as obvious as a full moon in a clear night sky as he turned the polaroid over. Stupidly hoping that the sender would have left some kind of mark. Nope. But apparently it was taken this morning. Which meant whoever had sent this indeed must have hand delivered it. Otherwise it wouldn't have gotten to him so fast. Must have been Tommy H then. Man, that kinda kill his boner. Kinda. But it soon grew again when his mind whisper something to him he wished it hadn't. Didn't Tommy H's have that little mark on the side? This one did and there was another dick he was familiar with in a way he really shouldn't be. And no, not because he'd had it himself, but because he'd sneaked so many glances at it back at school. When the motor mouth hadn't been running and he'd been cleaning himself rather than shooting off.

Hargrove…..

Would he do something like this? Maybe. The guy did like swinging his dick around after all. Probably had slept with half the town by now. He certainly, like Steve hadn't been in the past, short of suitors. And it had felt like every day, he'd seen the blond with someone new. Showing them off, making them laugh. Going over to his stupid muscle car and driving off into the sun set with them. Sister in the back who looked less and less impressed the higher the number got.

The dickhead had gotten right under his skin with all of this and worst of all, had gotten into his head too. And it was on his other head that he himself concentrated on now. Dropping his jeans and pulling himself out of his pants. Too desperate all of a sudden to even be bothered to get him off. The polaroid sat in his left hand whilst the right got to work. Steve leaning back and cursing his rival under heated breath as he rubbed circles on his tip. Staring feverishly at the massive shining cock which had slotted itself through his door. Fucking asshole. Yeah….yeah this would be something he'd do. Look at my big cock. Look at it and weep whilst you think of all the girls I've fucked with it. Ha ha Steve. Mine is bigger, mine is better. Fuck you Hargrove. You don't know that and besides. Even if you are bigger and wider and smoother looking and whatever, it's all about technique. A guy with half the size, hell even a quarter could still pleasure a girl immensely if he knew how to use it. Heh. Would that be hilarious? If Hargrove was all talk and no stick action? Didn't know how to use what he'd been blessed with.Foolish thing. Of course he did. He was probably as good with his balls as he was on the court. Fucker.

And this would not be the only time this would happen. Oh no. Every two god darn days. LIke clockwork. And somehow the darn guy got them delivered without him even freaking seeing. One time he thought he'd caught him but it turned out to just be the mailman. Having to deliver these dirty deeds and being absolutely none the wiser. Like he'd never know that Steve would perform the ritual of seeing the writing and getting hard before he even hit his bed, whacked himself off and left himself feeling all cross eyed. Revving himself up and finding himself even wanking off to some of the tracks he'd heard Hargrove blasting out his car like the Public Nuisance No 1 that he was. Metallica, the Scorpions, Ratt. Fuck this guy and his stupid hair and stupid car and stupid music. A thought that had occurred to him so damn often since he'd had the nerve to show up here and even more so since he'd been sending these pictures.It had been two weeks. And two days ago, he'd decided to do something about it.....

"Please tell me you didn't..."

"Well I...."

"Steve..."

She knew he had by the look that now dawned on his face. The way he bit his lip and looked to the side as she studied each and every bit of his face. The way his brows slightly furrowed, laced with a bead of sweat that was hastily becoming a line. The way his nose scrunched a little in the way the girls apparently found sexy and adorable. The way he chewed on his lip she'd seen so many girls staring at in that way she'd looked at girls' lips too. More hidden of course, not all of them made it as discrete as she did.

"I mean....he doesn't know for sure it's me. It's not like I'd just walk up to his door or anything."

It's not like he'd tried to deliver the package and Max had opened the door or anything. It's not like he'd walked away praying Max's curiosity didn't get the better of her and she didn't look into the reason he was sending her brother a "letter". His heart had been racing all the way home when he'd driven off. But he'd needn't have wondered. She didn't know; she'd come into the video store and all he'd gotten was a look of curiosity and suspicion from her, not a look of mortification or disgust.And just today, he'd received another photograph.

A polaroid which had shown the dick at full mast and those perfect hips he'd dreamt of riding one. And the first time ever a note had been written on the back.In the same hand his address had always been written neatly on with."Game on, pretty boy" the note said, ending with a wink which had sent Steve's blood pressure rocketing skyhigh and leading to one of the best orgasms he'd had in a long while.

Game on indeed..... This was only the beginning and who knew where it would end.....

[wordtotherose]

"Yenna, can you do me a favour, kid?"

There's the patter of small feet and then the messy mop of ginger hair appears, barely taller than the desk she's sat at.

"Sure!"

"Thank you, just let me seal this last one."

The candle is nearly burnt out but she coaxes enough heat to melt the last of the wax, tipping it carefully onto the edge of the folded letter. It swirls dark red across the paper, spreading in an uneven circle. Elizia picks up the letter knife ready and waiting next to an already finished pile of letters; the wax is just cool enough to retain the lines she scores, just warm enough still to not have to hack through it. Without a stamp it's the best she can do to deter early opening and lend it authenticity. Not that the people she's writing to throw much in with fancy embellishments or wax seals.

Continue Reading on AO3 or under the cut.

She bundles it up with half of the stack, checking carefully that she hasn't mixed any up. Satisfied, she ties them round with the bit of string she'd actually stolen from Yenna who'd been using it to play with her cat. It's string. The kid won't notice.

"Right," she turns in the chair to face Yenna, holding the letters out but not letting go when the girl reaches for them. "This is really important, okay? You are going to take Scratch and the Owlbear with you and you are going to deliver these for me. Think you can do that?"

Yenna's been in the room for numerous planning sessions, she recognises this tone of voice, this kind of conversation. She nods. Elizia lets go of the letters and hands over the map she'd hastily drawn just for this.

"You see this mark here? That's where you're going to go. The Basilisk gate is just above, there's a small beach and docks down a level from where you're looking for. There are guards there, you tell them I have sent you and you show them this," and she holds out Rhapsody, blade on her palm, hilt pointed at Yenna who's eyes have blown wide. "This is Rhapsody. You've seen her before, remember?" Elizia waits for a small nod before continuing. "Use her if you need but I'm really hoping you won't need to. You show this to the guards if they question you, they'll know it's mine. They've seen me use it. You go down the stairs they show you and you go right when you get inside. There is a tiefling about your age, she's missing an eye and she's called Mol. You give her the letters and tell her to read the one addressed to her. And only the one addressed to her."

Yenna's nodding along, clearly trying to memorise every word. She doesn't need to, Elizia is all too aware that this isn't one of her companions, this is a small, recently orphaned, nervous child. So she'd written her instructions down on the back of the map for her to find later.

"What if Mol doesn't take them?"

Elizia smiles, leaning sideways against the back of the chair, the hand with Rhapsody in it resting on her thigh. "Then you tell her she isn't going to get any more business out of us. And no more petting Scratch or owlbear. I've had Halsin tell them not to let Mol pet them until she's taken the letters and agreed to help already. Do you think you can do this for me?"

Yenna looks down at the letters and map in her hands. She looks back up at Elizia, the soft curves of childhood hardening, setting with determination in her expression until there's something hauntingly mature in her eyes. It's too much to ask a child, she knows that. It's necessary though. Childhood is a luxury in this world.

"I'll do it."

Elizia nods once. "Thank you, Yenna. You come back here as soon as Mol starts sorting her side out, you got that?"

"Yes. I will."

"Okay. Take it and go now before we lose more light." She offers Rhapsody out once more and this time Yenna juggles the map on top of the letters into one hand and wraps too small fingers round the hilt, nearly dropping the blade, clearly not expecting the weight of it.

Elizia watches her gather up the animals and shove the letters in her satchel. Yenna keeps the dagger clutched in one hand at her side, the map in the other. It's only when Elizia has seen them safely out of sight of the window that she thinks she should have given Yenna a potion to speak to Scratch and the owlbear.

She barely has time to push the remaining letters to the back of the desk, out of the way and hopefully out of sight enough not to garner any of the others' attention, before Wyll and Karlach return.

It's a flurry then of catching them all up on what they'd found in Orin's lair, her death, the lake and the brain. Balduran's decision. It's frustrating to have to call him The Emperor but with Shadowheart's parents and, gods, Mizora still hanging around, Volo too! No. The core group of them may know but it cannot go further. Loathe as she is to admit it, the Duke was right. It isn't the time to ruin the people's image of their founder, it would be disastrous for morale in the fight to come. It may never be the time. It likely won't.

They have fewer questions than she'd expected. She stands in front of the unlit fireplace, catching herself every time she goes to brace her forearm on the mantle like a theatrical villain. The sofas are all taken. Shadowheart and Lae'zel sharing the most immediate one to her right. Karlach and Gale to her left. Volo lounges next to Wyll. He is, unfortunately, the main source of questions as she recounts the morning. Questions about things not quite useless enough to be unhelpful but not helpful enough to warrant his interrogation. Withers stands eerily still behind Halsin who is sitting on the step, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, back bowed. There are fresh silvery scars on his arms and it has guilt eating Elizia up inside. How many could he have been spared had she done things sooner? Dealt with Gortash a day early? Taken one less day of rest?

Jaheira sits on the sofa nearest Halsin, Minsc taking up most of the space next to her with Boo in his cupped hands in his lap. She's watched Elizia like a hawk this entire time, not saying a word or letting a single thought cross her face. It makes her feel small to ache for her assurance, to want her to say 'yes, I'd have planned it like this too' or 'you are doing well, Cub, now keep going'.

And Astarion. Astarion paces quietly higher up behind the railing, unable to stay still. He has found himself a nice balance between staring down at her with those unrelenting red eyes and not looking at her at all, avoiding her gaze entirely when he loops around.

Continue Reading on AO3

[enjoy chapter 2! It's angsty! Woo!]

[wetbloodworm]

i'm wanting to rework temerity's god a little bit, mostly because i just grabbed a lawful god from the forgotten realms wiki relatively quickly so that i didn't have to work on that myself. but now i. want to work on that myself lmao. i don't want to borrow forgotten realms lore i want to make my own.

so, just to summarize, this god's whole thing is Law Above Everything Else, and is particular about following the actual letter of the law vs any kind of interpretation or intended spirit etc. i'd categorize him as lawful neutral.

his full name is now Erolith Bor, though i don't know if that's how people refer to him? he might have a title. god my brain is just immediately jumping to judge language. followers praying to him addressing him as your honor.

okay i've made a lot of leaps in the last few minutes so i've actually made some decisions lmao we're not just working shit out now we've GOT it. details under the cut

okay so. people wouldn't know erolith's mortal name, they know him by the title The Honorable. you're meant to address him as 'your honor', but just calling him by his title is also acceptable. he will tune you out if you address him as anything else in prayer tbh.

all of his followers are expected to have a decent grasp of the law, though his paladins, clerics, and other higher ups in the church essentially have to pass the LSAT before they can take their respective positions*. it's very common for churches of the honorable to have a small semi-public library of local and federal law books/documents/etc to reference and study. if you can own your own law books, even better, but not everyone has the means to keep that shit up to date. followers of the honorable generally WANT people to know the law in order to follow it better so while they monitor anyone who uses their stuff, anyone is welcome to access the library.

* yes this does imply that temerity had the pass the LSAT against his will lmao

all followers are required to follow all laws, and paladins + clerics + higher ups are generally expected to uphold/enforce the law as much as they legally can. like if they're an actual cop/lawyer/judge/etc then yeah do your job, but those not in actual legal professions and such are still expected to get on people for breaking the law. citizen's arrest, reporting to the authorities, etc. if you've passed your fantasy-LSAT then you know how far you're legally allowed to go lol. followers of the honorable would like to have a pass to just do arrests and shit by virtue of being followers of the honorable but the law doesn't state that explicitly. not everywhere, at least. some local laws might give them more wiggle room.

in fallen-universe lore, erolith absolutely was a judge before the war and before ascending. he was definitely a hard-ass, no room for leniency or any real focus on morality, if you committed the crime you get whatever punishment goes along with that regardless of outside factors. of course if you didn't commit a crime according to what the law literally says, no yeah you go free. so an upside of his judge style is that everyone was technically treated the same, no favoritism or bias was shown, Law Above Everything Else. just, y'know. sometimes the law isn't fair.

i need to know more about how actual written laws worked in the time of the old gods but i'm thinking it wouldn't be a stretch to say there was some inconsistencies there, or maybe a difference between the law of the gods and the law of mortals? something like that?? idk i need to bug hale more but like. SOMETHING about how all of that worked didn't sit right with erolith. the morality of what the old gods were doing wasn't the problem, it was the legality. the technicalities. something was awry there.

that's the end of the post for now but we may expand on this. good start tho

[ari--anon]

Hi! Big fan of your writing! If it’s not too much to ask:

How do you keep track of the small details you add in your writing? Especially the mega master writings. I find myself not writing for a while and struggling to remember or find the small infinitesimal detail I may or may not have mentioned - in order to keep coherency.

Hi, thank you :D

There's two way I keep track of details. First off, (and this saved me many times), I have a beta reader (friend of mine) who will often remember stuff I don't, and point it out in scenes where bringing that detail up would be plausible, or even if I completely contradicted something I've written before

Then I usually make a note of things that I should keep track of in a separate document, which is sort of a place where I dump all my chapter ideas. It doesn't have to be anything complicated, just a quick mention like "remember x!"

For example, me and my beta reader will often make rudimentary floorplans for rooms the characters will spend a lot of time in. These are made in ms paint and are really ugly, but I always come back to them to see where the characters are in relation to the room. (Plus this is a good way to initially really visualize the room!)

Or before I'm writing, I will make a really simple list of information to every character, and I will update it as I go. This includes stuff like age and important bits of appearance that stray from the norm, and then a sentence that describes the core of their character. You could do something similar with the chapters as you're writing them, so you'll always have an up-to-date list.

I know that taking notes is not for everyone, though, so this might not be good advice. Everyone has their own system that they need to crack, and I'm certainly still trying to settle into mine. Maybe, if notes aren't working for you, you could try to do it in a more visual way.

Like, if they pick up an item in chapter 4 that you want the character to use from then on, but you have trouble remembering, you could take a sticky note, write 'chapter 4' on top, and draw that item, and keep it close to your computer/laptop/writing paper. (Or if you write on your phone, I know that many notes apps have a function to draw on them too. It doesn't have too look pretty, you just have to know what it is! Like drawing a letter on your hand to remember something you need to do later)

If it's more abstract things, like a string of thought a character had that you think a character should hold onto for the story, this might get a bit more difficult, but I think that if you draw something related to it (even if it's just a thought bubble or something), you will most likely remember what it meant, even if vaguely.

But this is all stuff you do before, or during writing. I know this bit is difficult, especially when you've written A LOT but I guess the easiest way to keep track is to just read through it again.

But it's really important to remember that it's fine to go back and fix stuff! That's the fun part of posting online. If it's a matter of if a dress was white or red, and nothing you considered worth writing down (we can't put everything down after all) then I assure you, the minority of readers will catch if you change that up.

I'm currently going through iawwc again before posting the last chapter, because I'm looking out for exactly those type of details that might've gone under as I've been writing. Especially in those mega works that take a while to read and write, readers will often not notice if you changed a past chapter up so that it fits your current stand of things. So don't worry too much about this. Oftentimes when a detail went under, it probably wasn't that important in the first place, and can easily be cut out/changed.

I hope this helped, and thank you sm for your ask!

[appleciderp]

As some of you guys may know, I'm obsessed with Soap having a journal. I recently just bought a collectors edition MW3 just for the Journal (It legit only cost me like 20 bucks + shipping because the box was damaged)

Here are some little tidbits I didn't see when I looked up the journal in the past! Under the cut, since I'm gonna ramble a lot.

It's a small notebook of ~14cmx9cm (~5.5"x3.5" for you Americans). I expected it to be a proper Moleskine-sized, not pocket. But I guess it makes more sense.

I've said it in the footnotes of my fic, but Soap has at least 4 pens he constantly uses. Black, Red, Blue, and Green. He also has a yellow pen, an orangy-brown pen, and a pencil that crops up occasionally. I also think there are 2 blues; a lighter and a darker. Boy's carrying around multiple pens. You can see for yourself on the PDFs, but I feel it's not talked about enough.

After the "They're smooth, Price has taste" there's a cardboard Cigar Band. It's a "Villa Carla" brand, which upon a quick google search, is fake. He either wanted to know the brand (which he could have quickly written down the name instead) or he likes keeping items like that as memories.

After the final plans, there are about 7 pages blank before the last quote (which is speculated to be written by Price) The first page immediately after the plan is ripped out. At first, I thought it was the previous owner (I just bought it second-hand, the journal is a bit crumpled; but I like it, it's a bit more realistic) but the ripped page is slightly thicker and slightly different in texture. Plus, why rip out a page?

I didn't want to put my speculations on it, but I fucking will. Soap wrote his "If I Die" letter. We know it's somebody else who wrote the last quote in the book, so why else would the "last page" that Soap wrote be ripped out if it wasn't something to give to somebody else. Because what would be the odds that Soap ripped out a random page and it ended up right after he wrote his last entry.

Much like Moleskin notebooks, there's a pouch in the back, this part made me happy. There are 5 items:

Russian newspaper clipping, two different areas are highlighted. One underlined in red pen with "Man of the People" written on it.

Another diagram of a fight, this time with a Range/Elevation Chart overlayed and some "Quick Dope Cheats"

A fake "Hotel Lustig" matchbook. Filled with images of matches and a textured strip on the back.

Finally two team photos, one for each MW game that came before.

So it's OBVIOUS he carries this journal around with him, but he keeps lil memento's in it as well.

The love and attention to detail make it one of the prettiest Collectors Edition items I've ever owned.

[mysticdreamcafe]

Getting stronger and weird dreams

My daughter is gone this week so I'm using the time to organize and clean the house. I call her "My walking clutter bomb". You don't see her have anything with her but once she enters a space it seems to fill with random items.

So, I've overdone it a bit and am a little physically exhausted today. I've decided to run the vacuum in my room, dogs are sleeping with me and the super shedder is leaving cotton balls the size of baseballs under my bed, and a few other small things before relaxing for the day.

My withdraws were hell but I think I'm through the roughest part. I went gradually from 60mg to 30mg with little side effects other than sleepy. 20 I wanted to throat punch someone, ask them their name, if they could answer I'd hit them again. Yeah, it wasn't a great time. Then I go to pick up the 10mg to find they don't make it and I can't cut capsules so I've been cold turkey for about 4 days...maybe more. Anger and irritation levels spiked but seem to have abated so it's safe for me to be around others or go to public areas in town.

I want to go somewhere quiet and write. Somewhere outside the house but I'm a bit leery to drive when my body feels so heavy. I rocked through about 70% of the house yesterday but still need to tackle the living room which needs furniture moved around. Queen size sofa sleeper, large rocker recliners, credenza, fish tank, and more. I've got to do the shifting on my own so I think I'll rest today and take on that project tomorrow.

Watching a couple good murder mysteries out of New Zealand, I'd love to go there and parts of Europe, should help me recoup and get ready for tomorrow.

I've found I'm gaining strength gradually and hope to continue to become stronger. I hate having to split my chores up over time when I used to get everything done, inside and out, in a day. Though I'm pretty happy with the progress I've achieved considering I thought I'd be roasted and scattered by this time.

I just wish the crazy dreams would either spread out more or make some sense. I don't remember much from last night but I think my MIL visited, her memorial is today, to say she's ok. I hope that it's true and not a figment of my wishful thinking.

It's almost noon and I probably should eat something but not feeling it. So, I'm off to drink a protein shake, shower, and mail the letters I've written the last couple days.

Stay well,

MV

[indecisivepsyche]

Dracula: The Evidence

Well, now that we've finished reading Dracula, I'd like to highlight yet another upcoming way to read Dracula! This one is Dracula: The Evidence by Beehive Books, a small press imprint in Philadelphia currently available to preorder. Let me preface this by saying that I'm not affiliated with the creators of this project. I'm just discussing it because I think it's cool. I'll also warn that the two cheapest options for purchasing these items are $400 (for the complete artifactual experience) or $100 (for a hardcover version). If that's too much for you, I'd still recommend taking a look at the neat prototype images and information about the creation process found on their product pages and project updates.

Dracula: The Evidence is a project recreating the primary sources that make up Dracula. As they describe it, "In our edition, you are not merely a reader – you are an explorer making your way through this archive of first-hand evidence, retracing this nightmarish story through the remnants it left behind: correspondence, charts and diagrams, memoranda, artifacts, photographs, and much more."

That means you'll be receiving items like Jonathan's journal and letters from Lucy to Mina in their complete (and unburnt) form.

For people willing and able to shell out the $400, these items will come in a suitcase. For those who can commit $100, you can purchase a hardcover art book with pictures of the artifacts and transcripts of their contents.

There's also the option to purchase a vinyl record of Seward's phonograph recordings (also for $100).

I'm going to ramble a bit more about the project under the cut, but before that here's a link to a post I've made with links to the project. One of them is a promotional Twitter thread written by a fictional archival intern hired to process the Stoker Papers. It's pretty fun.

Edit: It slipped my mind that there was a PDF preorder on offer on Kickstarter for $25. It's not currently on the Beehive Books storefront, but it might be sold once the preorder period is over.

Beehive Books has been transparent about supply chain issues and events like the calligrapher they cast to write for Jonathan Harker being conscripted in the army causing delays. However, it is currently projected that the products will ship in early 2023.

Speaking of calligraphers, they've hired over a dozen of them to write for the different characters. It's neat to hear that they've put a lot of consideration into how the personalities of the characters should be reflected in their handwriting.

If you want to hear a sample of their recordings for Dr. Seward's diary, check out the September 12th Kickstarter Update on either edition. The updates are open to the public, and they've posting a link to a Dropbox with a two-minute sample from Jack's May 25th entry.

Check out the update from January 10th, 2022 to hear how they're tackling the fact that most of the documents that make up Dracula are originally not written in standard English. Here's an excerpt from it:

"For Mina, we've had her switch back and forth between shorthand and longhand throughout her diary. We've used it to enhance character building and storytelling. She's using the journal as an opportunity to learn and practice shorthand -- so which sections does she feel most urgent about, and might she scrawl down in her natural hand without translating into her shaky shorthand? Which sections might she feel private about, and want written in an alphabet that someone who comes upon her diary might not understand?

And then we have Mina's typescript, which transcribes every word of every document contained therein, and more. This allows readers to work with the two documents side-by-side, decoding shorthand or Russian with the help of the typescript."

On the update from October 29th, 2021, they discuss how the Captain of the Demeter wrote his log before the modernization of the Cyrillic alphabet and how they had to find a linguist to rewrite their Russian translation.

Seriously, even if you can't afford to buy this, there's a lot of fun to be had in poking around the project updates and looking at the prototype images they've shared.

That's all from me! It's time to see some of the adaptations for myself, starting with Dracula (1931).

[moongoddesskiana]

@penandinkprincess you opened up a can of worms by actively being curious about the Yennefer and Jaskier are pen pals idea

Should have a read more but I'm on mobile so I can't (edit figured out how to)

So Jaskier (because honestly he'd only let like maybe 4 people actually call him Julian and he makes them use it sparingly, I read in a fic that the people in his town called him Dandelion and I love that idea) is 14, he doesn't consider himself a child anymore he isn't allowed to be. (I am on team his parents, one or both were physically and/or mentally abusive or one of each) Jaskier's father is favored by their country's king and they decide to hire a mage to bless the crops of Lettenhove, enter Yennefer.

Yennefer just wanted to get her job done and get paid because she had other things to get to and was very busy at the moment. Yen is just minding her business when a child enters the study she is working in, not a young child but a child nonetheless. Jaskier was very curious about the mage who came very pretty, scary and looked kind of friend shaped, and very very powerful from the bits he overheard. Jaskier hadn't known she was in that specific study and had come in there for a specific book but why look a gift horse in the mouth, maybe he could ask her somethings.

At first Yennefer wanted him gone so she could focus, but he actually asked good questions that most didn't think to ask. Mid ramble he'd cut himself off and apologized for taking up her time and fled the study, just when she was getting interested. She basically shrugged and went back to work but like classier than normal people. This went on for the first week she was there, she was there for 2 and a half weeks total, until she overheard either him singing or him being abused. Either way her interest in the strange curious child increased and she started to subtly keep him there and keep their conversations going. Everything came to a head when she found him badly injured, she had seen him be very clumsy on his own when he thought no one was looking but that was clearly an injury made by someone else. Jaskier tried to put it off as "it's not that bad, I've had worse." and Yen is pissed but first she has to help this child get patched up, she tried to minimize the scarring but there was still a small scar left on his hip that held a hint of her chaos.

(Also immortal not fully human Jaskier in this because plot of this idea, ages normally until he's like 20 than it stops unless certain things happen, I'm not grinning all evil like what are you talking about)

Yennefer can't really do anything without proof especially because Jaskier's father was favored, but she could watch over him during the rest of her time there and teach him a few small things like sending things places with magic, only small things with no magic though. Yen was the first and only person to ever listen to the first song Jaskier ever wrote himself, his music was already frowned upon enough without it having been written by him and wasn't something he thought anyone would like. After Yennefer hears it and actually tears up a small bit (it was about heartbreak and looking for the small happy things and deeply personal) he wants to keep it to himself and her because she understood his song and she was the only person who would have listened to it in the first place.

Both of them are sad when she has to go but they have to pretend to not really know each other, otherwise people would ask questions. They promise to write each other letters and to send them via mini portal. Yennefer is heartbroken when she hears he tried to run away only to receive broken bones instead of freedom. He is almost 16 when he manages to escape and enters Oxenfurt under a fake name, but he has not yet named himself Jaskier. Jaskier refuses to tell her the bard name he has chosen, with basically a you'll see in dramatic letter exchange.

Yennefer has to stop answering his letters for some reason not yet thought and he has one of those "oh no what if they secretly hate me" thoughts and stops writing to her. It is very important to mention that the only things he dipped into his family's money were education fees and ink and paper to write to Yen. This includes food and other basic needs smh.

Then enters Geralt if Rivia, you know how that story goes, aside from Jaskier occasionally writing Yen letters but never letting her know he's traveling with a Witcher now of course. The whole Djinn thing starts out the same until Jaskier is tucked in bed his shirt is loose and she sees Jaskier's scar, she waits until Geralt leave to brush her hand against it and feel for lingering chaos. Upon waking Jaskier is greater by a very angry Yennefer who wants him to get some self preservation or any kind of not running into danger instinct. She mother hens him then is like make a wish or I swear to the gods I will make you regret it. Yennefer scares him and he decides to flee, because he does have some self preservation instinct Yen. He has full confidence in Yen's abilities and is kind of afraid if the consequences of someone interrupting making it go wrong and spews the lines from canon because he was automatically like "ah can't let Geralt know that I know her, and this is in character for me to do more than anything." He does actually get worried for them, continuing on following canon loosely, and sees them together and is like "hot but like no please that is MY Witcher and that is my amazing friend whom should 100% NOT be involved with each other."

Yennefer and Jaskier decide to start writing letters again and agree to not the Geralt know they are friends, partly because it's fun and partly because that's what they do in front of others.

When Yennefer says "The crows feet are new." It's out of concern, Jaskier should not be aging at all currently and very few things should make that happen. She genuinely enjoyed her relationship with Geralt though she didn't like the hurt that Jaskier sometimes gave off when he thought she wasn't looking. She left the mountain pissed off but upon seeing the state of Jaskier afterwards she was furious. That was HER emotional support bard, how dare you! It also became clear what was aging him like a human, heartbreak, which pissed her off even more. After a month Jaskier was like look we both need alone time and time to do our own things. He also wanted to play his heartbreak songs which seemed to make her angry so he didn't play them in front of her. And so they made their way to the rest of everything so far

(I say this having not watched most of the show, not having read any books or played any games, so take this as you will)

Bonus Round:

14 year old Jaskier telling Yen about the Witcher he met when he was 8 and how "most people thought he was scary but really he was friend shaped Yen! Just like you!"

Yen realization striking her "this child has no self preservation instincts and seems to try and befriend anyone who could easily kill him, he is not allowed to go near anyone like that again or I'm gonna have a heart attack"

Yen years later "WHAT DID I SAY, DON'T MESS WITH PEOPLE WHO COULD KILL YOU IN A SECOND!"