#it'll take us a couple of centuries

[knoxic]

How to be a High Lady?

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader (f)

Summary: Reader's first meeting as a HL, Rhysand makes some comments and reader chews him out, then smut🤭

wc: 2,8k

warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, Rhysand slander, might be some ??shit there sorry I wrote this instead of sleeping

part 2

How they met

Her expectations for her first meeting as High Lady weren't very high, obviously there would be judgment and doubt given who her High Lord is, surely there would be some snarky remarks.

༄

Eris had spent the last couple of day trying to remind her that she deserved the title, that she was already proving herself to be a good High Lady, that their court could already see it. Perhaps him being her mate had dulled the effect his words would have on her had it been someone's.

As soon as she accepted the mating bond Eris had took it upon himself to spoil her, never wanting to see her as low as she was when they first met, it was his personal mission to make sure she knew were she belonged, and that was right beside him, sitting in her throne wearing a golden crown made specially for her. He'd never let her doubt herself ever again, for he knew what she was capable of.

"That's a little questionable, coming from you," she ran her fingers through his hair, tucking a few strands behind his pointy ear, "But thank you, you always know what to say." She had received a pout and what seemed to be the best try at puppy eyes his fierce ones could manage.

༄

The rational part of her brain knew that being High Lady wouldn't be an easy feat, never mind being one in Autumn Court, but there'd been some noticeable change already. Bakers in the village she had visited days before greeting her with smiles and free pastries, farmers thanking her for being the reason Beron was dead and now they could receive a decent salary. Somehow, they respected her.

Almost a century ago, when Eris first brought up the idea of making her High Lady, she had laughed at how absurd if was, imagine, a High Lady in Autumn? Yeah, right. But he was serious, so serious he spent the whole night stressing on it, by the time the sun had risen she had decided to at least know more about what it took to rule a court. After days of researching in any library she could find in Autum, she realized a good part of what she'd "learned" were things she already knew but hadn't really thought about, others were hard concepts that she supposed would go to Eris when they became High Lord and Lady of Autumn.

She doesn't remember how nor when she agreed, but she did.

༄

As soon as they stepped foot in Day, their hands entwined, she felt some glances being thrown her way, whispers catching her ears when she sat beside Eris. His hand squeezing hers made her lock eyes with him, those amber eyes comforting any doubts she might had been feeling before.

"Hi! I don't think we've been introduced before, I'm Viviane." She had heard things about the female, how she took care of Winter when Kallias was stuck Under the Mountain, that surely wasn't easy, if someone deserved being High Lady it was her.

Viviane sat beside her, after pleasantries were exchanged conversations just flowed, their mates watching their interaction silently. It appeared that, as usual, the Night Court would be making their dramatic appearance being late to the meeting, and as everyone waited for them, the rest of the High Lords were simply talking between themselves or watching the others interact.

"It'll be nice to have another female here, there's too many males here." Viviane giggled.

"Meetings with Autumn's advisors already give me headaches, I can only imagine your suffering." They laughed a little before the room fell utterly silent. Night Court had arrived.

"We should do this again some time soon, just us." Viviane whispered and gave her a wink before straightening up in her chair and taking Kallias hand between hers.

Now it starts. She felt Eris tense beside her but didn't say anything, knew the image he still sell, instead, she watched Rhysand and Feyre marching towards their chairs, their hands clasped together, the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed right behind them, and in the midst of them was... Morrigan.

As Rhysand sat, his eyes locked onto mine, a smirk dancing in his lips, glancing between Eris and me I could see the thoughts running in his head.

"Oh, Eris... Is that, the precious mate of yours?" His voice in a sickly tone of amusement, "I thought you'd hide her forever." He knew the game he was playing, his words were a simple attempt to test Eris, to paint an image that he'd lock me up like Beron did to his mother.

"Whatch your tongue, Rhysand, before I burn it to ash." Eris didn't falter, his tone still cocky as ever. He took great pleasure in showing her off. "But to answer your question, yes, she is my precious mate."

She could see that Rhysand had a bitter comment on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by Helion, who asked something she did not pay attention to, violet eyes still challenging her to look away first, perhaps he was trying to test her or for him it was simply fun to intimidate others. His mate made him break the staring, Eris' hand squeezed mine as soon as he did, I looked at him and the different between his and Rhysand's eyes was outstanding. Eris looked at her as if saying 'say the word and we'll leave' as he did everytime they were in public.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, so far she hadn't heard anything that required her to say something, so she was quiet, until Autumn was brought into conversation and Eris let out that she was now High Lady. Rhysand had laughed, laughed as if Eris had told him a joke.

"Really, a High Lady? In Autumn?" His right eyebrow lifted, "What are you playing, Eris? Do you think your court would like you more if you pretend she's in command? Come on..."

"Why did you make Feyre a High Lady?" Eris bit back but his voice remained cocky.

"Do not bring my mate into this."

"You bring mine, I bring yours." Eris tilted his head as if taunting him. "It's a fair question, she's a child–"

"Watch your next words, Eris," Azriel spoke for the first time, "One of them might get stuck in your throat."

"Why do you care, Rhysand? Why does it matter for you if I'm High Lady or not?" Her voice was low and calculated, if she raised it then the Shadowsinger would turn to her and Eris would lose his temper.

"It doesn't matter to me. Though I must say, only a fool would believe he made you High Lady for pure reasons–"

"Don't you think I'm a High Lady because I can be a High Lady?"

"Perhaps not. What do you have of so special you think you can be one?"

"My mate is a High Lord, according to you that should be enough," she continued before he could say anything, "But unlike Feyre I didn't turn High Lady overnight. Maybe I don't have anything special, I just spent decades learning what it takes to be a High Lord, studying the behavior of one and I must say yours is controversial, as was Beron but that's another history."

"What do you mean?" Rhysand had risen from his chair by now, the Illyrians behind him seething.

"Being a High Lord– or High Lady, means you take care or your court, therefore you take care of your people. Velaris is known for being a beautiful place but what of the rest of your court? Hewn City has been in shambles for centuries and you've been High Lord for almost 500 years, what have you done in that time to help them? Rhetorical question, nothing, at least nothing that matters anyway. About the Illyrian camps, the females now are able to learn how to fight but is it even worth it if you don't even have a safe home to go? So many things are begging for help but instead of helping, you just brag about your powers."

"What do you know about my court?" She could swear the room had turned a tad darker.

"Enough to know that, in spite of your judgement, we are doing a far better job at ruling than you are."

"You dare talk about my court and now you criticize the way I rule my own court?" The room was definitely darker, and colder, her left hand felt warmer than the rest of her body, courtesy of Eris. "Who do you think you are?"

"A High Lady."

The room fell silent for a moment, maybe her choice of words was too much for someone so new at this meetings. Rhysand still glared at her with those violet eyes promising death, two other pair of eyes shined behind him, calling for her to look, she didn't look away from Rhysand until a voice spoke up.

"She has a point. A great point of view, proves you're apt for ruling and wants what's best for Autumn, it'll be nice to see such a beautiful place grow." Helion voice was soft, albeit hesitant, and he seemed honest when his lips turned into a gentle smile, which she reciprocated easily. Mornings spent trying new pastries with Eris mother had them talking about her mysterious past lover who she'd then come to learn was Day's High Lord, perhaps that was why he looked forward to seeing Autumn grow, he was looking forward to the day she'd feel free. "I also believe the meeting is over, we should all get some rest for tomorrow, you're all welcome to stay here."

Eris stood up still holding her hand, a sign for her to follow, as they started walking towards the door his hand found place in her lower back, a small demonstration of protectiveness. She'd have to reward him later for being so patient today, not letting his temper get the best of him, at least for her first meeting.

༄

"You did so good today, my love." Eris told her as soon as they walked into their bedroom, his arms finding their way around her waist, holding her from the back, his straight nose nuzzled her neck the way he knew she loved.

"You think? Maybe I said too much..."

"Why, think they'll find out? Listen," he pulled back so she could turn in his arms but still held her waist, "Let them, you'll gain their respect a way or another, Helion already likes you, he'd be delighted to have a witch as smart as you to talk to about spells, the rest will follow suit."

"You know what I meant."

"I know, you did nothing wrong, your power gave you the knowledge for a reason, you used it to tell Rhysand how he's failing his own court, if anyone should apologize is him to his own people, not you." To make a point he gave her nose a small kiss, "But... I don't think he'll do anything at all."

"Yeah... He had many chances and time to change things, and he hasn't." She leaned her body against his, his hands moved behind her back and she felt her dress loosen up, "Thank you for behaving today, I guess you deserve a reward." She pulled back to smile at him, trying to appear innocent.

"Stop that," he laughed, "I wouldn't be opposed to that, but, I think I'd rather reward you. For standing up for yourself and your court, for not being intimidated so easily, you held you own and I'm proud of you."

Eris started pressing gentle kisses on her cheek and all the way down her neck while his hands slipped to her shoulders, pulling the fabric from her body and letting if fall to the floor. Her hands made quick work to unbutton his vest, wanting to have less clothing separating them.

His hands squeezed her bottom before slipping down her thighs and pulling her up, walking towards the bed while still kissing and nipping at her neck. One of her hands found place at the back of his head while the other found his cheek, a sign for him to kiss her lips.

As he kneeled on the bed and laid her down, he leaned back to pull off his vest and linen shirt, her undergarments following right after. Their kissed turned more more heated, his hands roamed through her whole body, gripping her tightly. When they pulled back to breath, his cheeks were a bright shade of red, as they always were around her.

Instead of going back to her lips, his mouth went to her stomach, kissing and licking, going up to her breasts and down her hipbone, his hands pulling her thighs up to rest on his shoulders while his mouth made delicate work of kissing her cunt. Pressing kisses and gentle kitten licks on her clit down to her entrance, teasing it with his tongue and going back to her clit, sucking harshly and soothing it with kitten licks again. When he deemed her wet enough, his fingers joined, middle and ring finger, clad with his wedding band, thrusting slowly and curving upwards while his mouth resumed licking and sucking her clit.

His unoccupied hand, which previously remained clasped tightly around the flesh of her tight, now brushed his fingers around her stomach, lightly running his fingernails through her skin making her erupt with goosebumps, his fingers thrusting into her quickening, her walls were squeezing him and he knew she wouldn't last long. Sucking specially hard on her clit and curving his fingers how he knew she liked, she came with a whimper, thighs shaking around his shoulders, he stills his fingers as to not overwhelm her but his tongue still licked her cunt, precisely avoiding her clit.

When she calmed down he pulled his fingers back and licked her clean of her cum, careful to not go so fast, when he was done he pulled back and leaned her body on hers so they could kiss, making her taste herself on his lips. Her hands roamed the expanse of his scarred back, up to the back of his neck and down to the waistband of his trousers, which she pushed as low as she could reach, a sign he took to get rid of them.

Him standing up gave her a full view of his body, he was lean and yet full of muscles, scars here and there that didn't compare to the ones in his back. General Eris Vanserra was handsome, High Lord Eris was still handsome but he was also elegant and charming. The Eris she had when they were in the intimacy of their bedroom was beautiful, a beautiful male and even beautiful mate and husband, he was a broken male that managed to stitch himself back together and remain good and he was beautiful.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He was kneeling back on the bed, his hands caressing her legs.

"Because I love you, and you deserve to be admired, Eris." She could swear his cheeks had turned a tad darker, even his ears were tinged pink.

Eris didn't say anything back, just leaned over to capture her lips, gentle this time, slowly parting them with his own and brushing his tongue with hers, licking and sucking on the tip of her tongue. When his hips touched hers she snuck a hand down their bodies to align his cock with her entrance, he gave a few small thrusts to tease her before fully thrusting himself inside her, when they did they moaned in unison. Together they were far from the people they were moments ago, together they didn't have titles or expectations to live up to, together they could just be and they didn't even have to say anything, their movements were unhurried and their sounds were quiet, all heavy breathing and small noises.

Eris' thrusts faltered every now and then, followed by a whimper of his own, one of his hands was tangled in her hair while the other held her face gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb while they kissed. Her legs kept to his sides, caressing him in any way she could, her kept changing between holding his arms and holding his shoulder or hair.

Their bodies had a thin layer of sweat, her cunt throbbing made Eris lose his rhythm, when he found he started thrusting faster, his hand is her hair tightened and they could barely focus on kissing, their mouths just hanging open with heavy breaths and the occasional stroking of tongues was they could manage. Their moans were getting louder, his hips meeting hers harder, their bodies slipping with sweat, his forehead met hers when they tipped over the edge, groans and whimpers mingling together through the bedroom. His seed hot inside her doing wonders to soothe her want for him.

When they calmed down enough to move, Eris rolled beside her and pulled to his sweaty chest, usually they'd bathe but they were both too spent to do anything else, at least for a while.

[cxvii666]

"WHY'S THIS DEALER? TAKING THE PISS!?"

college au! hanta sero x reader

(part three)

cw: drinking, bad language, recreational drug use, reader sells bud, pussy eating, make out sessions, threesome in air quotes (denki's more of a voyeur than anything else) more like you x hanta(x denki), lots of second base action, 21st century love story, genz romcom type beat - part 2 was better and part 1 was my baby

wc: 2.9k

"i've been standing here, for 30 mins"

the party is in full swing, a chaotic mishmash of too-loud music, clinking bottles, people yelling and the occasional cheer from a victorious drinking game. the air reeks of cheap beer and cheaper cologne, and there's this unspoken agreement that everyone is pretending the sticky spot on the floor isn't there. hanta's pretty sure someone just knocked over an entire plate of chips somewhere near the kitchen, and judging by bakugou's growling and yelling, it's about to get cleaned up in the most aggressive way possible.

still, he's not paying much attention to any of that.

not when he's standing near the couch with you on one side and denki on the other, grinning like he just won the lottery. hanta's not entirely sure how this happened-how he went from nursing a lukewarm beer in a corner to being wedged between you two-but he's not complaining.

the three of you were making idle talk about the party, who's a bitch, who hooked up with who, but to be perfectly honest, you have no idea what to say. you know so many cool things about sero, the type of music he likes (from his instagram highlights), that he drinks this special organic green tea every morning (from denki accidently drinking it this one time and screaming it about), that he's super into horror manga, that he likes the same movies as you, that he backstraps when he rolls, and you want him to teach you. but it's like you can't even open your mouth to say any of this to him, and denki has for sure has picked up on this.

the blonde glances at you now from across hanta, mostly out of his own surprise that neither of you two have made a move yet. he mentally rolls his eyes, you all for sure love to call him the dumb one but the only idiots he sees are the two pining next to him.

so denki, as always, is the catalyst. "sooo," he says, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, "y'know, i was thinking..." and the both of you groan on reflex because he's got that glint in his eye, the one that usually means trouble. "we should totally play spin the bottle. or like, seven minutes in heaven or something. you guys down?"

hanta's about to protest- because really?, who even plays those anymore?- but then you laugh. it's that same laugh from the car, the one that's stuck in his head for days, and suddenly he's a little more open to the idea.

"spin the bottle, huh?" you say, leaning back against the armrest of the couch, your hood slipping slightly. "that's so middle school of you, denki.

"hey, middle school was a vibe." denki shoots back, unbothered. he plops down on the carpet in front of the coffee table and waves at the two of you to join him.

"c'monnn, it'll be fun. unless you're scared."

"you're unwell," you deadpan, but your feet follow him to where he's sat and when the smirk creeping onto your face betrays you, and denki catches it like a hawk. you glance at hanta, eyebrows raised. "you in?

"ummm," hanta hesitates, but the way you're looking at him makes it hard to say no. "-sure?"

"that's the spirit!" denki hollers, snatching an almost-empty beer bottle from the table. he's vibrating with chaotic energy as he spins it, barely waiting for it to stop before shouting, "Y'ALL JOINING OR WHAT?"

mina and kirishima are immediately in because they can smell drama from a mile away. a couple of randoms that hanta doesn't from campus join too, and suddenly there's a circle forming, powered entirely by questionable decision-making, and denki's grin widens as he sets the bottle in the middle.

the game starts innocently enough. a couple of spins lead to awkward cheek kisses, overdramatic "EWWWs" from mina, and one insanely disastrous attempt by kirishima to lips bakugou, which ends in a wrestling match that topples half the circle and flipping a table.

but then. oh, then. the bottle lands on you. or more accurately, on you and denki, because the blonde immediately grabs the bottle before it even stops spinning fully.

"alright, alright." denki says, waving his hands like he's running damage control, but his grin is devious. "we'll share."

"share?" hanta asks, an eyebrow raising. "how does that even work?"

denki, completely unfazed, points between you and hanta. "it's simple, dude. a group effort. right, babe?" he winks at you, and to hanta's surprise, you're laughing again.

hanta might actually short-circuit. "you're so stupid." you say, still laughing, but your gaze flick to hanta, and there's no denying the glint of amusement in your eyes.

"what do you say, sero? think you can handle it?"

hanta's not sure if it's the alcohol, the atmosphere, or just the way you're looking at him, but he rolls his tongue across his teeth, a lazy grin creeping onto his face and he nods. "yeah, uh, sure. why not?"

cut to: the three of you sprawled on the couch like you just collectively lost a game of jenga, but instead of wooden planks, it's your sense of dignity. the rest of the group has dispersed, denki's practically in your lap, hanta wedged inbetween, and there's entirely too much touching. it starts simple-a hand on a knee, a brush of shoulders-but then denki's dragging his fingers under hanta's hoodie, and your lips are at his neck, and holy shit, when did it get so warm in here?-

"relax, sero," denki says, low and taunting as he finally slides off of your lap, watching you trail your hands down, down, and back up hanta's chest. "we're just having fun."

"yeah," you add, your voice smooth and teasing. "you trust us, right?"

hanta inhales deeply trying not to lose his composure fixing his beanie back over his head. "yeah. of course."

he looks from you to denki before sniffing as his fingers twitch from where they're gripping the sides of your thighs, fuck he really hopes his hands aren't sweaty. he's chill guyed to close to the sun, his mouth has run dry, his social battery is depleting and to be honest he's growing a bit tired of the chaos surrounding you.

that's when denki leans in with his sly grin and nods at his bestfriend, "you wanna go for a smoke huh?" and he turns to you, "i know a spot if you don't mind supplying." and you're already on your feet not hesitating to agree. hanta nods along, his lazy smile softening at the thought of escape. the three of you slip out unnoticed, the bass of the music fading behind you as the crisp night air hit.

"god, i thought we'd never leave." you mutter, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets checking for your phone, your lipgloss, your wallet and your bud, as denki looks over with a mock gasp.

"what, my party planning wasn't good enough for you?"

"your party planning?" you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "you're just the guy who shows up with the aux cord and a vape. let's not overstate your role dude."

hanta snickers, shaking his head as denki gasped dramatically. "can you fuck off, hanta, tell her i'm vital to party ecosystems."

"nah she's got a point," hanta replies, his voice laced with amusement. "i don't remember seeing you do much more than yap and hit your pen."

denki groans, muttering about how no one appreciates his genius as he leads the way to a bus stop round the back of the field not far from the mina's place. the three of you settle under the secluded barely lit bus shelter. hanta rolls his own cig while you roll up the joint. you glance over at his fingers a couple times and nearly drop the roach when you watch him lick a stripe down the rolling paper.

you finish up and pass denki the joint, the first few hits were passed around in comfortable silence, as you all take a second to breathe in the crisp night air.

"alright, spill," denki says suddenly, leaning back and eyeing you. "what's your deal with sero?"

your stomach drops. "huh, what?" you replied, grasping onto what's left your pride and trying to play it cool despite the heat creeping up your neck. "what deal? i don't have a deal, there's no-"

"you're super into him."

hanta's head snaps up. "what?" he echoes, looking between the two of you.

"nothing," you say quickly, shooting denki a death glare and snatching the zoot from him. "stfu, what is wrong with," you say with a hiss.

"It's fine," denki teases, leaning into hanta with a conspiratorial whisper. "she told me earlier. said you were her dream guy and everything."

you groan, burying your face in your hands. "i actually hate you."

hanta's laugh rang out, light and easy. "is that true?" he asked, his tone teasing but warm.

you peek at him from between your fingers. his grin was wide, but his gaze was soft, genuine. it made your heart flutter, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak.

"yeah, well," you say finally, taking another hit before passing him the joint. "don't let it go to your head."

hanta smiles, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and when the point of connection where your fingertips touch shoots a spark through him. "wouldn't dream of it."

denki's cackle breaks the moment. "you guys are so cute i might puke," he says, clutching his chest dramatically. "okay, okay, let's get snacks before i lose my buzz."

the room was softly lit, the only illumination coming from the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the tangled pile of limbs on hanta's bed. the three of you were still sleeping, basking in the warm, lazy comfort of the previous night's haze. the air smelled faintly of citrus and smoke, the lingering traces of your late-night adventures.

you stirred first, a soft hum escaping your lips as you blink against the sunlight. you stretch slightly, careful not to disturb the two boys beside you. hanta's arm was draped over your waist, his grip loose and comforting, while denki lay sprawled on his stomach, one hand brushing against your shoulder.

"morning," you whisper, your voice still thick with sleep, as you turn your head to meet hanta's warm brown eyes. he looks at you with a lazy smile, his hair mussed and sticking up at odd angles.

"morning," he replies, his voice raspy and soft, the kind of tone that sent shivers down your spine.

denki groans from his place next to you, stretching dramatically. "why is the sun so loud?" he mumbles, making you and hanta laugh.

"you're the loud one," you shoot back, chucking a pillow at him. "ow fuck." "oh don't be such a baby."

hanta's laugh rumbles in his chest, and you feel it more than heard it. the vibration was comforting, grounding you in the soft intimacy of the moment. "i think you're just mad you're not a morning person," he says, his voice still low and gravelly from sleep.

denki cracks one eye open to glare at you, though his lips quirked into a grin. "well liked it better when it was just us, the food, and the movie."

hanta's hand brushes against your hip as he shifts closer. "yeah, but this is nice too."

you feel the tension shift in the room, subtle but palpable. hanta's thumb traces a slow circle on your hip, the light touch sending sparks across your skin. denki notices, of course, his grin fading into something softer, something more curious as his gaze flicks between the two of you.

"you're touchy this morning," you tease, though your voice was quieter now, your heart picking up speed.

hanta doesn't answer right away, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile as he leans closer. his voice barely above a whisper when he says "can't help it. you're here."

denki's eyes widen slightly, his usual cool guy act slipping for a moment. "whoa, okay, are we doing this? s this a thing now?"

you laugh again, the sound nervous but excited. "are you always this subtle?"

denki smirks, sitting up slightly. "subtlety is overrated. i'm just saying- if something's happening, i'd rather not be the clueless idiot in the room."

hanta snorts, his hand still resting on your hip. "you've never been clueless, denks."

the air grew heavier, the playful banter giving way to something more intimate. hanta's gaze meets yours, a question lingering in his expression. when you nod, his hand slides up your side, his touch firm but careful, testing the waters.

denki watches, his breathing hitching slightly as hanta leaned in to kiss you. it was slow and deliberate, his lips soft and warm.

"you okay, denki?" you ask leaning back to look at him from beside you when you and hanta finally break for air. the brief pause is just that, brief, because hanta's lips are back on yours before you can finish speaking.

"oh, i'm very okay," he replies, his grin returning as he leaned back against the pillows. "don't mind me. just... enjoying the view."

hanta has to physically pull himself off of you in order to shoot his best friend a look that was both completely exasperated and totally amused. "you think you're such a joker-"

"yeah, yeah," denki says, waving him off. "just keep going, don't let me distract you."

hanta turns his attention back to you, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, his touch igniting a trail of heat along your skin. he guides you onto your back, his lips finding yours again, deeper this time, more insistent. his hands roam, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that made you swallow down a whimper.

denki shifts closer, his eyes fixed on the way hanta kisses you, his own hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out but didn't quite dare. "you guys are so hot together," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with awe.

hanta pulls back slightly, his lips swollen and his gaze dark. "you want to join, or are you just gonna sit there?"

denki blinked, clearly caught off guard, but the slow grin spreading across his face said everything. "oh, i'm in." what followed was a blur of soft laughter and heated touches. the blonde gets manhandled into sitting behind you as hanta presses you back into denki's chest. hanta's lips trail down your neck, his hands pulling your shirt up and over your head. denki leans in, his fingers brushing against your arm as he tilted your chin toward him for a kiss that was playful but electric.

when hanta slid lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach, you shiver, anticipation thrumming through you. denki's hand finds yours, his grip firm and reassuring as he watched hanta settle between your thighs. his eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"you're beautiful," hanta murmurs, his breath warm against your skin before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, as your ass jerks back and the blonde lets out a sigh as you make contact with the half-chub in his boxers. your free hand tangling into hanta's soft hair as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.

denki's breathing grew heavier, his gaze fixed on the way hanta moved, the way you reacted. "holy shit," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "you're so into this, aren't you?"

you nod, unable to form words as hanta's mouth finally finds its mark, his tongue moving in deliberate, torturous strokes up your slit that left you gasping. as he ate you out with passion, grunting and groaning into your pussy, hips bucking into the mattress. denki's hand tightens around yours, his other hand resting on your knee, his touch grounding you as the pleasure built higher and higher.

hanta didn't stop, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as he worked you over with a skill and dedication that left you trembling. denki's eyes never left you, his own arousal evident as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple in a surprisingly tender gesture.

"you're amazing y'know," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

when you finally come undone, your body arching off the bed and your cries muffled against denki's shoulder, hanta didn't let up until you were completely spent, twitching and whining. he pulled back, his lips glistening and his expression smug as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

denki let out a low whistle, his grin wide and appreciative. "damn, sero. i didn't know you was an eater like thaattttt," he turns to you "he's a keeper forreal-" you cut him off with a pillow to the face as hanta snickers, climbing back up to press a kiss to your forehead. "glad you think so."

you laugh softly, your body still buzzing as you reach for hanta pulling them both into a lazy, contented embrace. the three of you stayed like that, tangled together in the warm morning light, the world outside forgotten as you basked in the easy intimacy of the moment.

HEYYYYY YALLLL this is the last part of this particular series but i love this au and i have some more thingys in my drafts a lot briefer than this and if you LIKED this one then you'll probably LOVE girls who like to fuck

[profiterole-reads]

2024 Favourites

In no particular order. This is content I've read and watched in 2024, not necessarily content released in 2024.

Books

1. So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole: f/f heroic fantasy + another female protagonist on the aroace spectrum with a male love interest (YA). One sister can channel the power of the Gods. The other dreams of becoming a drake pilot to protect their country from dragons.

2. Hunters of Ironport by Lou Wilham: m/m urban fantasy with a trans male protagonist. This series has Buffy/Faith vibes, except m/m. It crosses over with the Witches of Moondale series (f/f), but can be read independently.

3. The Mage's Secret by Ami Spencer: f/nb urban fantasy. This witch story is mostly cosy, with a few action scenes. It's about a coven elder and an Academy head in an established relationship.

4. [Spanish] Prodigioso principio de amor de Silvia Aliaga: m/m urban fantasy. This novel takes place at the University of Magic and Eloquence, in Florence, Italy, and the two leads are from Spain and the UK.

5. Power to Yield and Other Stories by Bogi Takács: collection of speculative short stories with many non-binary characters and a couple of intersex ones. This is my favourite read of the year. These brilliant stories explore gender identity, neurodivergence, religion, immigration and the human condition in general.

6. Earthflown by Frances Wren: m/m science fantasy. The characters have superpowers, but it's not superhero fiction. This novel takes place in post-flood London and has complex worldbuilding. Note that the e-book version doesn't include the 60 illustrations.

7. Redsight by Meredith Mooring: f/f science fantasy. This is mythological fantasy in space. The protagonist is a blind witch who's going to serve as a spaceship navigator. Her love interest is an ancient witch who's become a pirate and can turn into a giant snake.

8. Welcome to Boy.net by Lyda Morehouse: f/f science fiction with a trans female protagonist. This novel is about two bounty hunters in an established relationship. The protagonist used to be part of the ENForcers, which supposedly had only male members, so she had to desert in order to transition.

9. Everything for Everyone: An Oral History of the New York Commune, 2052–2072 by M.E. O'Brien and Eman Abdelhadi: speculative activism fiction written in the form of non-fiction, with many non-binary characters and two trans women. 12 interviews cover the crises of the mid-21st century, then the insurrections that led to establishing communes all over the world, with a focus on NYC.

10. [French] Un Amour pas si aveugle by Lena Clarke: f/f romance. A blind piano teacher and her guide dog move in next to a former firewoman, now an ambulance driver, and her dog.

TV shows

1. Kaos: mythological fantasy with several mlm characters + a trans male major character, and the Fates are played by trans/enby actors. I love this Greek Mythology modern AU, full of dark humour.

2. Meet You at the Blossom: BL wuxia. This Chinese/Thai coproduction is the first uncensored BL wuxia drama and I hope it'll pave the way to many more.

3. The Spirealm: BL portal fantasy. This c-drama is an intriguing adventure with horror vibes. The BL is still pretty visible despite Chinese censorship.

4. Tadaima, Okaeri: BL omegaverse. I had always avoided omegaverse stories, but this anime about an alpha/omega married couple with kids is just lovely.

5. When the Moonlight is Shining: GL fantasy. This c-drama is a quick watch, with 18 episodes of about 2 minutes. A mermaid comes to the human world.

6. 3 Will Be Free: m/m/f thriller + a trans female major character. This Thai drama is about the son of a mafia boss, a male stripper and a hostess at a go-go club. It's actually not as explicit as it sounds.

7. Petrichor: GL murder mystery. An inspector and a medical examiner team up in this Thai drama, which is much better than the forgettable Rizzoli and Isles.

8. Love Sea: BL + GL romance (a lot of BL sex scenes). This Thai drama is Fort/Peat (from Love in the Air)'s new show. Watch it for the high-chemistry BL, as the GL storyline is subpar.

9. Lucky My Love: GL romance. This Thai drama is a quick watch, with 5 episodes of 20 minutes. A superstitious woman meets her new team leader.

10. 1670: historical mockumentary with some f/f. In this Polish show (available on Netflix), the 17th-century humour is a metaphor for 21st-century issues.

Movies

1. Wicked: fantasy with sapphic vibes and achillean rep. I loved it, it was stunning!

2. Drive-Away Dolls: f/f crime comedy (a lot of sex scenes). This lesbian movie was on crack and is supposed to be the first of a trilogy!

3. Le Comte de Monte-Cristo: historical revenge movie with a canon sapphic minor character. This was a magnificent adaptation of Alexandre Dumas's masterpiece.

[luckyblackcatxiii]

Hello! Sorry in advance if this has already been answered somewhere. I really admire the way that you design outfits for your characters and wanted to ask if there were any reference sources that you recommend for designing D&D-ish fantasy outfits. Have you just picked up trends/patterns over time? Are there a certain time periods or fashion eras that you like to emulate in your designs? Media that has inspired the designs? Thanks for sharing your amazing art with us!!

Hey there!

No apologies needed, you'd be the first to ask me this (that I remember in the last couple of years, at least)

I think my biggest suggestion to anyone who wants to design outfits for characters--fantasy or not--is to first do some studying on how clothing is structured, as well as historical and/or regional fashion. Whether that's taking a class or just going through various medias that cover the topic, such knowledge helps you get an overall roundness on the basics of how clothes work, how they can be applied to the human figure, and just why certain fashions became in vogue via the times, emotions, economies, psychology and culture they reflected. All which can then serve as inspiration and guidance on how to go about clothing your made up person/society/etc, because after all: not only do we dress ourselves to reflect our own individuality, but people have been doing that for generations before us. Whether it's the fabric used or the shape of the silhouette, clothes tell a story! And a lot of it is interesting!!!

Also, the more you understand clothing, the more believable and strong your designs will present themselves.

(You'll also suffer the curse of recognizing how inaccurate a lot of historical TV shows and movies are with their depictions of costuming, then have to stifle this down so as not be obnoxious to those around you! Yay!!)

When it comes to designing fantasy things though, the best part of drawing from reality and historic fashion is you can have references without the feeling of having to be entirely beholden to accuracy (while still--I should hope--being respectful enough to avoid borrowing more personal aspects of cultures who may not appreciate parts of their identity being used without knowledge/context applied). I often like to mix and match different time period/regional aesthetics and mesh them into something that becomes seemingly familiar yet unique enough to call my own, and it seems to pay off in the long run.

Aside from that, I like to keep in mind the practicality of an outfit--why is it being worn and what is its purpose?--while also making sure it defines the most important aspects of my character, as well as has a nice shape/sillhouette. After that, aesthetics, personal enjoyment, easter eggs, and overall fun make up the rest of the designing process. Be sure to indulge once in awhile, if not always if that's your vibe!

On that note: I personally like to depict western clothing between the 15th-early 20th century, with the Georgian and Edwardian era being my favorite. Though, thanks to my VtM game, I've definitely grown a deeper appreciation and affection for the 20s more 'recently' and with Curse of Strahd, I've been having a ton of fun getting more familiarized with Slavic and Eastern European clothing. I have a lot of CoS NPCs that need designing (and I'd like to do a fashion zine for Barovia someday, so I've been doing a lot of research as of late...)!

If I'd have to give credit to any media that's inspired my own designs, I'd have to say Odin Sphere (or any fantasy based Vanillaware game, really) is always there in the back of my mind when I'm tackling a fantasy look. I'm absolutely blanking on anything else, but i'm sure there's plenty of inspiration that subconsciously sits in my brain just Ratatouille-ing my hand when I decide to design things AHAHAH~ I'm sure once this is posted, it'll all come rushing to me...

This has gone on pretty long and I admittedly feel like an unqualified egomaniac after yapping as much as I have, but I hope this helps, if not offers some overall insight on my own process! Thank you so much for your inquiry and kind words, I'm so glad you enjoy my stuff and look forward to supplying you more in the future! :,3c <3

[takaraphoenix]

I'm so curious about all your fics, it's hard to pick which ones to ask about. I managed to narrow my curiosity down to 5, but I totally understand if you don't want to do all 5 at once. Would you be willing to share details/summary of any of these? 😊

His Partner's Son

Shadow of the Sun

A Spark Into a Flame

Blood and Magic

Sober

Okay so first of all I need you to know a secret about me (and most other authors I have met): Absolutely LOVE talking about my stories!! You are ALWAYS free to send asks about them. Any time. Any of them.

Though I do have to admit that I prefer separate asks for separate topics/fics, beeecause as you may have noticed I am not good at Shutting The Hell Up so my answers tend to be long anyway and an answer about five fics is gonna be... long. Very long. Which makes the post long and also takes a lotta time to answer, as opposed to taking time multiple times to answer multiple asks!

So, that just. For the future. Never hold back on sending asks. Ask away. But to make the answering easier, send multiple ones? ;)

His Partner's Son

So, this one is totally @kimmycup and @kymera219 's fault.

It's a Steter cop!Peter AU where Peter and Noah are partners and Stiles is head over heels for his dad's partner, desperately trying to seduce the man while Peter is clutching his last bit of self-control because he can't start something with his partner's son!!

Shadow of the Sun

Multiple chapter Steter Darklina AU. I don't wanna call it a Shadow and Bone AU, because it is NOT that, there won't be any Grisha and I won't follow the show's plot. I just really want that Darklina dynamic for Steter, because these ships hit the same spot.

Basically, instead of Grisha oppression we do supernatural creature oppression. Peter's still a werewolf. But I do need that darkness/light soulmate-ism of Darklina and the centuries old general who has been alone for so long and given up hope.

Gotta solve that with the Nogitsune. Three hundred years ago, Peter lost his pack to the royal family's bigotry and in his despair, summons the Nogitsune to help him get his revenge. He accidentally creates the threatening shadow wall, filled with deadly shadow creatures (the oni).

He's working for the royal family, the Argents, training and leading the army of werewolves that are used as cannon fodder by King Gerard, seen as nothing but useful tools. He's desperately looking for his match, because to take them down and liberate his people, his shadow needs light. A Spark.

Finally, after all this time, he finds his Spark. Hardened by the centuries of oppression and abuse his people have faced, Peter has become ruthless and just wants to use that Spark as a tool in his war. Until he actually meets Stiles. And Stiles is... so much more than he could have ever hoped for. The snarky, clever and powerful boy wakes something in Peter that he had thought had died with his family all these centuries ago.

That's the parts from Shadow and Bone that are important to me for this. And with that, we go off-script because Stiles will work with Peter to actually take down the king and the royal family and actually liberate their people and they will be a badass, devastating power couple.

A Spark Into a Flame

My upcoming (March 15th) Stetopher multiple chapter fic!

Stiles is a phoenix in this, making this my first creature!Stiles fic, actually. He's kept this secret safe... until the Argent basement, when Gerard's torture forces him to reveal his wings to Boyd, Erica... and Chris, who comes down there to get the teens out. Now Stiles has to adjust to people knowing his secret.

Blood and Magic

I genuinely don't know if this will be a oneshot or a multiple chapter fic. Which... probably means it'll be the latter, won't it?

This one features vampire Stiles and Stetopher.

Where a group of vampires comes to Beacon Hills to kill the last Argents to avenge the former clan leading representative of Beacon Hills and reclaim the land for the clan.

Only that the clan is the Gajos clan. And the dead representative is Lady Claudia Gajos. Stiles' mom. And Stiles is kind of not a fan of some random vamps coming in, using his mother's death to try and kill his friend and one of his crushes.

In this, vampires are kind of the only real natural predators werewolves have. So the pack is at a clear disadvantage. The only thing that will save them is if Stiles reveals his status as not just a vampire, but as the heir to the Gajos clan. But due to the history between vampires and werewolves, Stiles is afraid the pack will hate him for it and won't want him around anymore.

Sober

A short Stetopher fic that's meant to punch you in the Stiles feels.

After college, the pack moves in together into the Hale House. But Stiles has one condition to moving in. He needs all alcohol to be gone, because he knows he can't live in a house with alcohol. He doesn't want to risk his sobriety. And he now has to... explain that, to the pack.

You know that thing where alcoholics sometimes tell their kids that alcohol his 'medicine for adults'? Well... a smart boy like Stiles would think "but I'm hurting too? if it helps dad, it'll help me".

When Stiles, at nine years old, has to be rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning, that's... the wake-up call Noah needed to sober up himself, get his shit together and be the dad Stiles needed. But Stiles doesn't like talking about all that.

My WIP Files

[sysmedsaresexist]

To the anon asking about my username...

There's a bit of confusion here, I'm going to answer many of your questions but I may not post the ask itself, hopefully it'll make sense :)

When I started my blog I was heavily anti endo and I specifically posted bad pro/endo takes, debunking or just laughing. To this day, most of it is still pretty hilarious. I wasn't focused on cringe, but totally crazy, out there claims that made zero sense and were flat out wrong. Check out my tags #shit endos say, #shit singlets say, and my newest tag, #shit anti endos say, I hope you have a laugh at a couple of them.

In my pinned post, you'll see the thing that started it all. A pro endo saying that sysmeds are sexist.

I would also like to know how they came to that conclusion. I'm right there with you. Also like you, I still have many issues with the pro/endo community. I believe CDDs are trauma based disorders. I post research pretty much weekly about it (check out #debunk and #research). I think endogenic plurality and CDDs are completely different things.

And you know what, my pro endo friends support me. We're all learning. I'm kind with my opinion, I'm open to talking about it, we debate, we share resources, we change our views and adjust based on new info.

This blog corrects misinformation from both sides, now. Some of it is worse than others. Antis can and do spread just as much misinformation as pro/endos.

What I would encourage you to do is start with the multiple selves theory. It actually developed right alongside Freud's theories on hysteria (which included early versions of CDDs at the time), and if Freud hadn't been such a perv, it might actually be much more well-known. It's a nonpathological theory on consciousness and philosophy. People have been describing this phenomenon for a very long time, "endogenic" is just the newest term for it. Here's a couple examples.

2015 - at any given moment in time, one or another of our subselves is in control and determines how we think and act.

1987

2012 - this one has so many links to other people talking about this theory

2023 - These results suggest that the normative principles by which agents have adapted to complex changing environments may also explain why humans have long been described as consisting of “multiple selves.”

2020

2010

Like I said, though, you can find this stuff as far back as the 50s with ease, anything older might take a bit more digging, but it's not a small or new theory.

I think an overlap in language has created a lot of confusion, but it's really not out of the realm of possibility for people to be more in tune with these parts of themselves. It's been documented for over a century outside of psychology, in other areas of research-- anthropology, philosophy.

I'm going to be honest, I don't think a single one of the headmate sale blogs are real. I think they're antis trying to start shit. Like maybe one out of every ten is actually someone misguided behind the screen.

Even CDD systems still incorrectly believe in core theory, endogenics picked it up from us and don't know any better. System resets aren't real, but there are real experiences that can FEEL like a reset-- try being patient and educating people. Ignore the others, because some people just can't be helped, and you're better off spending your time spreading good, accurate posts than arguing with people who don't want to learn anything.

I forget what I was saying.

Anyways, I'm a pro endo sysmed.

I hope you'll stick around and see what's going on.

[firstelevens]

hello! 11. not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd + sambucky, if you like! (canonverse, AU.. happy to read about any of them☺️)

11. not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd

The trouble with memory loss as extensive as Bucky's is that he doesn't know whether he should attribute his adaptability to being repeatedly frozen and defrosted over the course of an entire century, or if that trait wholly belongs to the person who he used to be. In either case, it's too sad to think about for too long, but it's something he's relieved to have on days like this.

When Thor had literally crashed into a fight between Team Cap and their fourth alien weapon-wielding foe in a month, Bucky had assumed that it would be a simple handover, Earth Avengers to Space Avengers, and they could call it a day. Instead, he'd offered to fly Sam up to outer space so he could chase up his investigation, and there was no way that Bucky was leaving Sam alone to do intel gathering on an unknown, possibly hostile planet.

It takes a few hours' worth of hyperspace travel to get them to Empyrean-5. At first, Sam had teased Bucky for staring wide-eyed out of the viewports, but then he'd stayed there, too, watching as they closed in on a planet that seemed to emit a multi-colored glow into the darkness surrounding it.

Before they dock on the planet, Thor takes a video call from a vaguely familiar green lady in some kind of red uniform. She looks relieved when she hears that Thor won't be the one actually investigating on-planet, and she must be pretty well connected, because soon they're kitted out better for this mission than most Thunderbolts missions, and Val is a literal countess.

Bucky can't deny the slight giddiness he feels as the ship slowly descends towards the landing port--all those comic books and pulps that he read as a kid, and now he's literally in outer space--but he sees Sam fiddling with the translating bracelet that they were both given and realizes that Sam's fidgeting might not be the excited kind.

He bumps his shoulder against Sam's as they descend. "Are you up for this mission, Cap?" he asks. "You sure you'll be as charming in space as you are on Earth?"

Sam snorts, shaking his head, and Bucky is inordinately pleased to watch his jaw relax. "Aw, Buck. You think I'm charming? I'm blushing."

"I think you think you're charming," grumbles Bucky, like he knows he's supposed to, but when Sam grins at him, he can't help but return it.

"Be honest," says Sam, nudging him back. "How badly did baby Bucky want to visit outer space?"

Bucky feels his face get warm, but Sam is looking at him with bright, interested eyes, and he's only human. "If I'd known it was an option? That I just had to be a scientist to do it? No one would've ever had to tell me to study again. I'd have been at the library every day. Would've dragged Steve there, too."

"Yeah, and then Steve would've started a fight and you would've gotten kicked out on day one," says Sam. "This way, you get to see space and no one's revoking your library card."

"Which is good, because I've got about a dozen holds coming in this week, and half of them are yours," says Bucky. "What would you do if you couldn't mooch off my library card, huh?"

"The Brooklyn Public Library just has a better selection, okay? It's not my fault the DC library system finally shut down my card."

"It's a little bit your fault," says Bucky. "You haven't lived there in more than a decade."

Sam grumbles something that Bucky can't quite make out over the sound of the ship, and he tries not to laugh.

"So what's our plan here? That Gamora lady said the auction wouldn't be for another couple hours. You want to scope out the building first or walk around a little to get a lay of the land?"

"Neither," says Sam.

"Sam, how many times to I have to explain that 'no plan' doesn't count as a plan?"

"For your own satisfaction, I'm sure it'll be another four dozen at least," says Sam. "And I didn't say we have no plan. I said I didn't have one of those plans."

"Fine," Bucky says, crossing his arms. "What's your plan, then?"

"We're gonna play tourists," says Sam, and points out the viewport just as they pass through a thick cover of clouds to approach a glittering city, half sun-soaked, half in starlight. The nighttime half is dotted with neon signs and brightly lit buildings, blurring lights on what must be vehicles zooming past them. "I feel like this place gets a lot of those."

"Oh, plenty," says Thor, and Bucky just barely stops himself from startling. For a god of thunder, he's surprisingly quiet when he wants to be. "Empyrean-5 is the sector's most popular honeymoon destination."

"Pretty good place for an intergalactic black market auction," murmurs Sam, and Bucky is inclined to agree. There are no regulars to remember anyone's faces, and any tourists who might see something suspect will be too distracted by whoever they arrived with to care.

The ship gently docks at the spaceship equivalent of a harbor, and through the viewport, Bucky can see bustling streets and tall buildings, dramatic mountains silhouetted in the distance against a pink and orange sky.

Thor moves back to the cockpit to open the doors, and Sam turns to Bucky. "You sure you're gonna be cut out for this kind of undercover work?"

Bucky narrows his eyes.

"What?" laughs Sam. "I'm just saying, there's a lot of authentically excited tourists out there. I think we're really going to have to commit here: see as many sights as possible, take a bunch of pictures, buy some stupid souvenirs. We have to make it believable."

There's no use fighting the goofy smile that wants to spread across his face. Bucky accepted a long time ago that being around Sam Wilson was going to make him feel this way. "So you're saying that for the sake of the mission, I have to see as much of this planet as possible?"

Sam nods, as gravely as he can with a grin on his face. "It's a non-negotiable."

"Then I guess I can't say no," says Bucky. On an impulse, as the doors open and the gangway unfolds, he reaches out and grabs Sam's hand. When Sam looks from Bucky to their joined hands and back, eyebrows raised, Bucky just shrugs, gesturing to the tourists milling around the harbor-side stalls. "Don't want to lose you."

It can't be more than two seconds before Sam reacts, but it feels like a small eternity to Bucky. Then Sam's hand shifts in Bucky's like he's trying to pull away, and there are already apologies at the tip of his tongue, but it turns out that he doesn't need them: Sam just moves his hand to interlace their fingers, giving Bucky's hand a squeeze.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, and when he starts down the gangway and into the crowd, all Bucky can do is follow.

[potatogratins]

— love letter

꒰ summary ꒱ in high school, many students do their hardest to achieve their dreams. aimie, an aspiring writer, ghostwrites love letters for other people to earn just a little for her aspirations. when her friend and aspiring volleyball player, yuki, finds out just what kind of work she's commissioning, he's not too pleased.

꒰ genre ꒱ hurt/comfort, slight fluff, high school au ꒰ pairing ꒱ | ishikawa yuki/female oc ꒰ w.c. ꒱ 6,075 ꒰ published ꒱ september 4, 2024

꒰ a/n ꒱ i just have so many ideas for yuki fics that I honestly can't stop! i initially wrote this with the characters as adults, but i decided to make them high school students cause the situation seemed immature enough for teenagers to do. anyways, I can't wait to see yuki play once again this season! will be sleeping late for sure, but it'll be worth it, i know it.

Emilie,

Last night, I made up a string of lies just to ask my mom what she thought of you. I wouldn’t dare to write every word she uttered in this paper because it would be too much for the nib to handle. Allow me to summarize it for you to protect your heart: she did not approve of us. It hurt me to see that the woman I have looked up to for so long would go so far to insult you, even if the both of you have never formally met.

People may never approve of us, but none of it matters.

We have professed our love in the presence of God. If they say our love is false, then so is the God we all bow down to. Still if they prove that God is real and our love falser than false, then reality isn’t real and this world is a dream, and what a beautiful dream we’ve concocted for each other.

Tonight I will dream of you as every other night, and there we will meet again.

Your Eternity,

Rostom

As I wrote the last letter, I took the paper that held these contents and rested it on the table beside me. I wiped the black ink off my fingers with a worn-out towel, as I looked out into the horizon.

There were things in this world that I begged to know, like why we could barely see so much of the world when we looked towards the distance. But as I looked into the pink sky, raging into orange and then black, I realized the magic of distance: I can believe that there’s a whole other world behind the distance my eyes are capable of seeing, even if it was most likely filled with nothingness. 

“Are you done with my letter?” Jun, my schoolmate, asked, who crept up behind me as I was looking out the window.

“The ink is drying. I’ll put it in the envelope in a few minutes,” I explained to him.

 “Can’t you just use the Parker Ink? I swore you used that a few letters ago.” he insisted.

“The Parker inks aren’t dark enough for me.”

“With writing like that, I’m sure the receiver wouldn’t think about what ink you’re using. Elaine–Emaine–I mean Emilie–loves the letters that I send her!”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a me problem. But I just think the presentation is just as important as the content, you know? Why do you think we judge people’s handwriting so much? Ink is also a factor in how we judge the writer,” I explained.

“We can talk about ink if we were in the 20th century, but we’re not. Aimie–letters have been out of fashion for so long that people won’t even tell what’s good parchment and what isn’t.”

“Yet you come to me asking to write old-fashioned letters with flowery words for a woman,” I said as I raised my eyebrows.

He scratched his head, tilting it while explaining, “She’s an intellectual. I needed to find a way to impress her.”

I shook my head. This dude was a pain in the ass.

“Alright, the letter’s dried. Now take this envelope and get out,” I ordered him, folding the letter into the envelope before I gave it to him. He placed a couple of coins on the table and left the classroom.

I tightly sealed the bottle of ink before wrapping it in a plastic bag. I stuffed it in the bottom of my bag before putting the extra pieces of paper inside my portfolio bag. For a brief moment, I continued to look out the window. Then, there was a knock on the door.

“Aimie,” Yuki greeted me softly before walking towards me.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” I told him. I felt spots of heat enter my cheeks. I looked away, allowing my cheeks to cool down, before turning to him.

“Why?”

“Don’t you have a bunch of girls waiting outside your classroom every day?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Or was there no one camping out for you today? Maybe they finally got to find out that you’d be a nightmare of a boyfriend,” I joked.

“I think I’d be a capable boyfriend. I would be a very good boyfriend… I think…” he boasted…ish.

“I know you always make your folks late to work because you take up so much time showering,” I sneered at him. I heard him huff, and he crossed his arms.

“Hey, at least I’m unlike you, lazing around, looking into the window all day. I know you always finish your homework while your teacher is asking the class to pass the papers to the front.”

“Shut up–”

“And you’re always obsessed with men… kissing each other…”

“It’s the 21st century! I am at the very least politically correct–”

“With a bed filled with nothing but stuffed toys because no one wants to hug her at night!”

“That’s mean! And to think I was supposed to take you out for dinner. Hmph! Leave me alone!”

He took a chair and dragged it beside me. He quietly put his bags on the floor and nudged my arm.

“I’m sorry,” he attempted to console me, “It was a joke. I won’t do it again…”

A smile began to creep up on me.

“…I’ll pay for dinner instead–” he slowly said.

“Exactly what I’m talking about!” I celebrated as I bolted right up. He scoffed as he watched me quickly gather my belongings. There wasn’t much left to put in my bag, but I wanted to be sure that I had everything together, lest I end up leaving behind something and be forced to think about what I left behind all night till the next school day.

“Are you actually going to pay for my food?” I asked him.

“Obviously not,” he retorted as a matter-of-factly. I whined and stomped the floor, crossing my arms. He smirked and quickly turned away, leaving me. I shouted and followed right after him.

We arrived at the restaurant not thirty minutes after I packed up. There was hardly anyone save for a few salarymen, tourists, and a woman speaking to herself. Loud rock music was playing in the background. We chose a table in the corner just by a window, where we would practically see none of them. The music was surprisingly quieter in this area. We sat across from each other.

“I would have said, ‘Finally, some peace and quiet!’ but you’re here,” Yuki hissed at me.

“Hey, you’re making me pay for your food and fooled me into thinking that I won’t be paying and now you’re making me pay again!” I complained. A “hmph!” came out of my mouth. Yuki slid himself closer to me and tapped my hand.

“I’m just messing with you,” he whispered, “I’ll pay for your food.”

“Really?” I pouted. He looked down as he smiled, and I could only get a glimpse of his sheepishness.

“Yes, now go and order what you want,” he directed me.

We both looked down at the menu. For a good three minutes, there was a circle of silence around us. I looked up to take a peek at him. He was so concentrated on someone who just needed to choose a meal for himself. Then he looked up at me, and I looked away for a moment.

I nodded, turned the menu towards him, and pointed at the two meals. Yuki shook his head, “Can’t you just get one?”

“Why? I’ve had a long day. Can’t I have two?”

Yuki rolled his eyes, showed me the side of the menu he was browsing at, and pointed at two meals.

“You’re not the only one who wants two meals,” he clarified, “The doctor told me to eat more so I could add some more weight.”

I sighed, “Fine. I’ll just get the curry.”

He didn’t reply but gave me a face. He pressed the button to call for the waitress and gave out our order. He pointed to the menu and asked for adjustments, to which I rolled my eyes and mocked him, then looked away.

When he had finished ordering, he called for my attention.

“Aimie, what were you up to in the classroom?” he asked me, the tone which almost felt like an interrogation.

I turned my eyes to him, but still kept my head towards the window, “I was just… writing some letters.”

“Letters?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, letters. People ask me to write letters or translate them so they could send it to other people.”

He fussed, “Who is sending letters out these days? Can’t you just send them through mail?”

“I mean… that’s what it is…” I spoke slowly. He stared at me, then rolled his eyes.

“I meant mail as in online mail. You’re taking me literally.”

“Yes, I know what you meant. It was a joke.”

“It was not.”

“Is.”

“Not. And you’re changing the subject. Why are you writing letters for people?”

I crossed my arms and frowned at him. He tilted his stupid head, waiting for me to answer, but as time passed, he was disappointed to find out that I was not planning to respond at all.

“Aimie. I know you’re the best in our class when it comes to writing, but I think you should not be doing this.”

“Why not? It’s becoming a trend! Everyone likes to get letters 'cause they’re genuine.”

“Genuine? How can you call that genuine when you’re the one writing letters instead of them?”

As I was about to respond, the waitress arrived with our orders. We both looked at each other uncomfortably and began to eat in silence as if to forget the argument that was just about to transpire. He looked out the window as he ate while I slouched like a child, eating my curry as quietly as I could.

Later on, the waitress returned with another meal set on her tray and placed it between Yuki and I.

“A third one?” I quickly turned to him, “Is your doctor really making you eat that much?”

He shook his head and slid one of the plates towards me.

“It’s yours,” he told me softly, “Of course I’m not going to make you pay for my food after I just told you that I was going to pay for it.”

I nodded while looking down. My cheeks began to turn red, and from the edge of my eye, I could see Yuki slide the plate towards me even more. He continued to eat, looking out the window again.

I often wondered if we ever thought of the same things when we would look out the window. Does he judge others who pass by or think of them with kindness? Does he imagine the daily lives of the people that pass by? Does he see a woman and think she’s pretty? Does he think of me while he looks at a woman, as I’m before him? 

He then continued our previous conversation, “I just don’t like the idea of you posing as someone else–”

“I’m not pretending to be someone else–” I emphasized. A heavy feeling was growing in my stomach, and I knew that tonight was going to open fresh wounds.

“It could cause you a lot of pain. And confusion. I–It’s admirable that you–I mean, you’re writing what other people can’t seem to express, but a letter–it’s personal. The people asking to write letters for them should express what they feel even if they can only express it in very few letters. It would be a dishonor to those who receive it. They would be disappointed when they begin to know the real them and find that they’re not as honest as their eloquence,” he tried to persuade me.

“Come on, Yuki. Who are we to judge them? I’m just trying to help. I’m not harming them at all.”

Yuki placed his hands behind his head, squeezing his eyes and opening his mouth in frustration.

“You know, I don’t know what to do with you. I know you want to help, but–”

He looked around, bewildered, and then shook his head. He dug his hand inside his bag and took a notebook out, and rolled it took his notebook from his bag, rolled it, and slightly stood up.

“Kindness–”

He began lightly hitting my head.

“Starts–”

He hit my head again.

“With honesty. If you help people become dishonest, then you’re not really helping at all.”

I pouted and looked up at him. He blushed and sat back down.

“Finish up your food. I have work to do,” he breathed out.

I saluted in reply and took big bites of my food.

After we finished eating, we walked our way to the train station. I sat on the seat nearest to the door, while Yuki sat across me. I looked at him as he stared down at the floor. I tightened the grip of my school bag, eventually hugging it instead. When he turned his eyes towards me, I averted mine, and I tried to focus on the view behind him.

“Don’t you want to sit beside me?” I asked as I patted the seat beside me. He hummed and did so.

To the ordinary person, a stranger asking their friend to sit beside them was a normal occurrence. But when it came to Yuki, sitting beside him on the train meant something else. I had the privilege of looking out the window to stare at him through the reflection. It seemed desperate, and it was. When the boy you like was admired and ambushed by girls every day, spending your every minute with him had to be well-spent. I would do anything to sit and look at him, even if his reflection could only hold an ounce of what was genuinely worth admiring about him.

I turned my head to the real him as I allowed my hand to wander inside my school bag. I pulled out a ball of those expensive Lindt chocolates, and showed it to him. His head was pointed towards the chocolate, then to me. He looked down and shook his head.

“No, I can’t have any. I need to control my intake,” he rejected me and apologized profusely. I cleared my throat and looked into the window. I wanted to phase out. Even if I was in public. Even if he was right beside me. I could handle a rejection of chocolates from anyone but him.

“You alright?” he asked me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I felt my hand shake a little as my fingers began to sweat. When I turned towards him, his brown eyes were looking right at me. I could drown myself in that sea of chocolate. I could count the times he blinked. One… two… three…

Then the train doors opened, and Yuki stood up, motioning me to get off the train with him. With a myriad of people, we tried to stay as close to each other as possible. I held onto the strap of his bag, so I wouldn’t lose him. Then, all of a sudden, he turned around and took hold of my hand that was attached to his bag strap. He held that hand and looked at me in the eye as if to tell me to hold on tight so we wouldn’t lose each other.

There was a part of me that wanted to swoon. But for the most part, I wanted to hide in embarrassment because that’s the thing with Yuki. When you thought you finally knew him, he does something completely out of the ordinary. But no matter how shocking the action was, it doesn’t actually mean anything.

Still, he warmed my heart every time.

“I’m fine on my own,” I insisted.

“No, Aimie. In my six years of knowing you, you always have the tendency to get lost,” he nagged me and held my hand even tighter.

My hands began to sweat, and I managed to pull away from his grip..

“I don’t… feel comfortable,” I admitted.

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“It’s not you, it’s me,” I stood firmly, “But I think we should get walking.”

For the next few minutes, we walked around in silence. A few cars would pass by, but the atmosphere between us was static. He would sometimes slow down to let me catch up. To my surprise, he would usually scold me for being so slow. This was not the case.

As we turned to our street, there was a man and woman arguing. The woman, high-pitched, kept on slapping the man as he kept on pushing her. Yuki and I stayed close to each other to the point that our arms began to touch. But as we were about to pass by them, the woman suddenly grabbed the collar of my blouse and pulled me in front of you.

“Are you Aimie?” she asked me.

I gulped and nodded.

Yuki walked beside me, “What do you want with her?”

“Get out of it, you brat,” she spat at him and pushed him by the shoulder. She then focused at me.

“Are you the one writing letters to Jun?”

I shook my head. I looked at Yuki, his lips pursed, and his fists began to turn white. She then began to shout at me, the words incoherent. I froze like a doll, allowing her to hurt me, till Yuki got in the way.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” he insisted.

“Yes, I do! She’s the mistress! She��She writes to Jun!”

“She’s not interested in him at all. And who might you be?” Yuki raised his eyebrow.

“His… his girlfriend!” she shouted unsurely before looking away. 

“You look too old to be his girlfriend,” he remarked. Can’t he be a little more careful?

“HUH!? And who are you to tell that, with that tiny voice of yours?” she shouted again.

“I’m her friend. And you’re misunderstanding,” he placed his hand out as if to calm her down. The man with her looked at the both of them the same way I was looking at them. We were clearly the most useless out of the four.

“Her friend… Clearly, you’re dating. And I can’t believe you’re… tolerating her. That hag is cheating on you!”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said calmly, “And she’s not the mistress. She’s just writing letters for other people.”

The woman was taken aback. She walked back slowly, though never turning back, and tilted her head towards the man behind her.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” she whispered to him. The man raised his eyebrow.

“I don’t think Jun dates high school girls in the first place–”

“He could, if he would,” Yuki interjected, “He’s a high school student after all.”

Quickly, the man walked away from the woman. He began to laugh at her.

“Did you just get tricked by a high school student?” he cackled and pointed at her.

“No, no,” the woman objected, “I’m just a year older than him. And… I thought we were in the same university…” She tried to convince him that there was nothing wrong when something obviously was, and it had barely anything to do with the letters at all.

“Well, he does look old,” the man said, to which everyone either looked at him in horror or shame.

“I’m sorry for my sister,” the man apologized and bowed in front of us, “She caught Jun’s letter on the table while he was at work. It seems like he puts your name and house as the return address.”

Yuki laughed lightly, and I stared at the floor.

“Do you actually write the letters?” the woman asked me, her voice softer.

“Yes, I do. But I put it in the envelope and well… I don’t write the addresses for them. I didn’t know he’s been putting my name and address the entire time. I apologize,” I explained.

She sighed, “Kid, try to get out of people’s other matters. Even if it’s just writing a letter.”

In embarrassment, I kept my head down. Yuki spoke for me, “Sorry for making you worry. I’ll bring her home.”

“Sorry for the misunderstanding. Have a good night,” the woman said and the siblings bowed.

Yuki and I walked back to my home, but before I could say anything, he stole the opportunity to break the silence.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to write letters even after all that,” he looked at me in a distasteful manner. I shook my head as fast as I could.

“It’s just a misunderstanding. It’s going to happen from time to time, but I can–“

“You’re still going to do it!?” he blasted. I took a step back.

“Yes, but–“

“I don’t–I don’t understand the thought process here. If it wasn’t for me, you would have found yourself beat up the next morning. I mean–they’re not capable of maybe beating you to death, but you would have definitely still been in danger… Aimie, can’t you think straight for once?” he scolded me.

I began to warm my hands with my palms as my heartbeat grew faster. I felt a spot in my throat beginning to hurt. In hurried breaths, I could visually feel myself turning into a pot, ready to whistle for tea.

“No! I can’t!” I shouted, “I don’t have the luxury of doing that! Don’t you know that other people ghostwrite?”

“I know people ghostwrite. But do you agree? Is this unethical doing of yours okay with you?”

“It’s just a bunch of letters!” I screamed and stomped my feet. Yuki crossed his arms.

“It’s not! A letter is supposed to… to… tell people what they feel. To help the receiver understand the writer… in their perspective. You’re missing the point of this!”

“Well, you’re making a big deal out of this. I write letters for other people, love letters. For high school students. I’m not–I’m not going to fool… the Prime Minister into doing what the customer would have wanted him to do. I’m not blackmailing people.”

“No matter how young they are, you’re still fooling with other people’s feelings!”

“I’m not the one fooling them. It’s the person asking me to write for them.”

“So you agree? That someone is at the very least, lying?”

“Okay, fine. Yes. There’s dishonesty.. The person asking me to write the letter is lying. I’m lying, too. But I didn’t ask to be in this kind of position. I didn’t want to be writing letters, I wanted to be writing novels. But I can’t afford to be one. I’m not like you, living in a fantasy world where offers come right at me left and right, where people come flocking at me from all corners.”

Just miles away from us, we heard some lightning strike. Though we could have ran away, we stood there, arguing like children.

“You’ve worked hard, that’s for sure. But other people have, and they don’t get as much returns as you do, to the point that you’re privileged enough to continue to work hard with extra help along the way,” I added.

He wanted to interrupt me, but allowed me to continue talking:

“You have no right to talk to me about honesty, genuinity. How do you know if everything that you have is real? Let’s start with that first.”

Then, it began to drizzle.

I took a deep breath before telling him, “Those love letters those girls would give you? The ones that you would throw away? Most of them were written by me anyway. And if you–and if you ever bothered to read them, you’d realize that I’ve written what they’ve wanted, true, but every word was mine. Every love letter I’ve written, no matter who wanted me to write them, always had you in mind. You’re real to me.”

“Aimie–“

“You live a good life, and I know it’ll just get better. But that doesn’t mean you can bug me and tell me what’s good and what’s bad. I know… friends.. are supposed to tell you what’s good and what’s wrong. But these commissions–they’re the only thing I can do. We both know that.”

“I could help you–“

“I don’t need your help! I never did. I’ve been doing fine without you anyway. But you’re right. It’s dishonest. It got in the way. So I’ll stop,” I finished.

I dug down my school bag and got a foldable umbrella out. I shoved it in his big hands as he looked at me, puzzled. The rain poured even harder, puddles forming at the side of the road.

“Go home,” I demanded him.

Without looking at his reaction, I turned away and ran to my house. I felt his footsteps follow right behind me. I heard him calling for me. As I reached the front door, I turned around to find him gone. With a sigh of relief, I entered my home, where nothing could ever be capable of hurting me.

Two weeks had passed since the incident. I spent most of my days, running away from everyone, even Yuki. My feelings towards the conversation began to mellow, and I clearly saw what Yuki was trying to talk about. When I began to realize the grand scheme of things, my pride and selfishness immensely lowered. Since then, I stopped taking in requests for love letters, and spending my time in the library or the empty classroom.

But there were times when I had to walk out of my safe spaces and Yuki would happen to be there, and every single time, he would have his eyes on me. Every time he would stand up or even take a step toward me, I would run past him as fast as possible or even turn the other way around.

Eventually, my luck had run out because one day, after trying to run away from him, he attempted to chase after me.

“Aimie! Wait!” he called for me.

For some reason, I could have run as fast as I could. He was more athletic than I was, but desperation caused as much adrenaline. Yet I somehow froze, and he eventually caught up to me. I must have used up all my energy because I couldn’t seem to move.

“Can’t we just talk about it?” he asked me, slowly reaching for my arm. I quickly moved it away.

No. We couldn’t just talk about it. Because I didn’t let you talk the last time. And my mouth always took action before my mind does.

“Aimie, please? I’m sorry,” he nudged me. I scratched my arm and looked down, my lips sealed shut. I turned around to face him.

Fair to say, his eyes were red, and they widened when I turned around. I could see the sweat glistening on his palms. He was out of breath. 

“No. I should be sorry. I was too prideful,” I admitted.

“No, I should be.”

“You’re too soft towards this. You defended me, and when we were finally alone, I lashed out on you. Insulted you, even. Don’t apologize to a dishonest person.”

“You’re not dishonest,” he stated.

“Do you even know how many letters I’ve written in the past month before I stopped?” I questioned him. I could hear him whisper, “No, no.”

“You’re young. And you’re human. And wel… you’re different. You always have good intentions, but you never really… do them properly,” he acknowledged these as he took a deep breath, “You’re naive, Aimie. You always have been.”

“But I’m a bad person. A bad human.”

“It’s not a crime, is it?”

I didn’t know what else to say. So, I started crying. Wailing, even.

“I–I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I felt so stupid without you!” I cried out to him, then he began to hug me, “I thought to myself, ‘I’ve lost Yuki! The human equivalent to my brain! My senses have left me! I’m stupid, I’m stupid.’”

He laughed, patting my back. We broke our hug as I took my handkerchief out of my pocket, to which he snatched from my hand and dabbed the tears out for me.

“You think you’re the only one going through a crisis? How am I going to live without my heart?”

“My heart?”

“Yes, you’re my heart.”

I stood still and shook my head, “No, no. You’re my brain and heart. You’re my organs, I’m just a host.”

He cackled at me, “Aimie, think of yourself highly from time to time–”

“Yuki! We’re going in circles! That’s literally why we didn’t talk to each other for two weeks! Because I was thinking of myself highly–”

“Okay, okay. Let’s not talk about it. You’ve put out too many tears,” he interrupted.

When I stopped crying in such an ugly matter, he handed out a piece of paper to me.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked me.

“It depends, what is it?”

“I want you to write a letter.”

“Oh no, no no. You just told me that you didn’t want to–”

“It’s worth it, I promise. It’s the last letter you’ll ever ghostwrite. It’s just a love letter I want you to fix a little while translating.”

“Translate?”

“To English.”

I glared at him.

However, I began to think of his previous actions and how they were never really as I predicted. Maybe he had something in mind. A terrible joke, even. So, I decided to play along with it, “Fine, fine. Look how biased you are…”

We walked back to my classroom and I sat by my usual seat near the window. He sat at the chair right in front of me as he crossed his arms and let them rest on the back of the chair. He placed his chin on his arms, and I could feel his eyes follow my every movement. I took out my pen and a fresh leaf of paper, and looked at the outline of his letter slowly.

I began to ask him a few questions, to which he responded with no hesitation.

“To whom is this letter addressed to?”

He smirked, “Keep it empty for me. I’ll write her name on the envelope.”

Her? My heart dropped. The worst thing he could do, after all this, was to make me write a letter to a girl. She must be a wonder for him to even ask me to write a letter in the first place.

“It’s a love letter?”

“Well, what else could it be?” he retorted, “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No, no. Not at all,” I lied.

I took a deep breath and looked through the outline of the letter he wanted me to write. I looked at him, and he was still looking at me. I couldn’t tell what was on his mind–there was nothing written on his face. I gulped and began to write the letter:

A few days ago, my friend told me about this flower that is native to South America. It takes half a decade for it to grow, before it is able to bloom. Then it blooms again once a year, and it always happens in the middle of the night, before it closes in for the rest of the year the morning after. 

As he was explaining this lovely flower, I began to realize that the flower and my feelings were no different.

Like this flower, this love was nurtured and cared for. And it took me one night for my heart to burst and realize just how much I’ve admired you.

Flowers come alive at the sound of good words, and I would be just as alive at the sound of your voice and the sight of your words, our nonsense conversations, your laughs at my terrible jokes, and our bickering–which was very much like an old couple.

If it took me six years by your side and a night to realize just how much I like you, then I would say it would have been worth it. There is no greater source to make the flower of my heart grow than you.

If you’d return these feelings back to me, then feel free to write back a letter. Say these good words and everything in me shall be healed, and the flower in me will bloom for as long as both our feelings will live.

Yours,

Yuki

I capped my pen and I let the letter sit there for the ink to dry.

“Is she a foreigner?”

He put his shoulders up, as if to say, “I don’t know.” I slammed my hands on my lap and sighed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to write her name?” I questioned him again, just to be sure.

He thought for a while. He pretended to scratch his chin like an old man, and hummed to himself.

“I changed my mind.”

“Alright. So what’s her name?”

“Aimie. Address it to Aimie. A-I-M-I-E.”

Aimie.

I froze and stared at him, my eyebrows knitted together. He looked at me, and a smile seemingly began to grow on his face.

“Do… do you want me to… to put it in an envelope and write the address for you?”

“You do that now?” he cackled.

“It’s a special offer, for the last love letter I’ll ever ghostwrite.”

“Sure. Do you have a piece of paper? I’ll write it out for you.”

I took out my notebook, ripped out a page, and handed it to him. He turned away from me and I could hear the pen scratching the page. There was a metaphor that began to form out of that moment, where every stroke of a letter began to scratch my heart. When he had finished, he turned around and showed the paper to me, pointing to the block of text.

“Address it to her, please,” he requested.

I moved closely to the paper, observing what he had just wrote.

It had my surname and last name, as well as the exact house number, street, prefecture, and postal code. I could feel my eyes beginning to itch, slowly being filled by water.

“What a lovely name,” I told him.

“Yes, and what a lovely person,” he smiled, “I’m always in awe every time I see her.”

“I’m sure she’ll love the letter.”

“I’m sure she would. But I’m hoping she’d return the feelings too,” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding my eyes.

“I’m sure she will,” I laughed.

He looked up at me, his mouth forming an “O.” Silly as it both was, I still wrote my name and address in the English style. I could sense that his smile was permanently stuck to his face, and when I finished writing, he patted my head. I handed the envelope to him, to which he licked to seal it shut. We stared at each other for a good while before the bell rang.

“Can I walk you home later?” he offered me.

“You don’t have any practice later this afternoon?”

“No, I don’t… So, can I?”

I nodded. Overjoyed, he walked up to me and hugged me. When we looked each other, I was positive that we were equally red. He then began to leave the classroom and turned to me by the door.

“I can’t wait to see you later,” he said.

One by one, my classmates entered the classroom, oblivious to what had just happened. One, they didn’t know that the boy I’d liked for so long had confessed to me. Second, they didn’t know that he’d walk me home later after school. Third and most importantly…

They didn’t know that in a few days time, I’d be able to write my very first love letter. One that wasn’t ghostwritten. One that was written to someone I have always wanted to write to. One that had my name signed at the end of the letter. One that allowed me to express my feelings toward something that was real without any shame or embarrassment. One that would reply to the confession of a friend I’ve admired for so long, to no longer be a pair of friends but something more.

[personaswrld]

"The Boy"

Brahms Heelshire x Female!Reader

This is a just a story of the movie of The Boy but instead of Greta , Female!Reader will take her place. The ending will also be different as I wanted to change it to how I wanted the movie to end like , Ive Also changed some other things in the story.

Sorry for any misspelled works as I'm just now getting into writing . Sorry this is a female reader story as I'm a female and that's what I'm used to writing but I will eventually write different versions of my story's that have different genders , Male!Reader & Gn!Reader.

Y/n - Your name

L/n - Last name

R/n - random name

Slashers Masterlist

Y/ns text and thoughts are going to be (pink¡)

Brahms will be (red!)

These -> " are thoughts

Others text will be (purple¡)

Chapter 1 | Meeting The Heelshires

My name is Y/n L/n and for the last few weeks I've been running away using from my crazy abusive ex-boyfriend , R/n. He was constantly hitting and yelling at me and eventually I got tired of it and ran off to move to the United Kingdom. I wanted to move far away from (State) and start a new life never look back, but yet the familiar overwhelming feeling of being scared that he'll find me always seems to find it's way back to me.

Sighing at the thought of it I quickly clear my head as I keep my eyes on the road heading to the Heelshire Residence where I will be nannying a older couples little boy named Brahms. It made me feel off thinking at the thought of a older couple having a young child "maybe it's their grandson" I thought. I pull up to the address given to me looking up at the house already gives off a creepy vibe and im slowly regetting my decision in taking this job but i need the money and maybe it'll look better on the inside then what it does on the outside + it'll be better once i meet brahms maybe he'll distract me from my mind of my ex.

Finally Pulling into the house parking my car and putting the keys into my pocket I exit my car and head to the trunk of it to grab my backpack and suitcase. I grab my suitcase and walk towards the front door as I'm settling the backpack straps comfortably on my shoulders.

Finally arriving at the door I put a few knocks on the door , taking a deep breath and exhale as a few minutes go by I knock again but get no answer. Opening the door I slowly walking inside closing it behind me setting my bags down by the door as I do so I call out to see if anyone's home.

"Is anyone here?" I say as I look around the house that looks like it could have been built in the 19th century. "Mr and Mrs Heelshire? , Brahms?" as I say the name brahms I hear a thump near the wall but quickly ignore it figuring out that it's probably a rat or mouse.

After calling out you shortly realized no one was going to answer you so you start to walk up the stairs to explore a little as your were walking up the stairs you saw a family portrait of a family that you assumed were Mr and Mrs Heelshire, and looking down at face of the little boy below , brahms.

"This must be the little boy that I'm nannying" you thought to yourself. Soon after your done with your little exploring session you head back downstairs but as soon as you do so you hear an voice of an older woman calling out to you from the top of the stairs.

"Up here Miss Y/n , sorry for the wait" you look back up to where you heard the voice "There you are Mrs. Heelshire it's finally nice to meet you" you said as you walked all the way back up the stairs but what you really wanted to say was

"I know damn well I did not just come down from those stairs looking for you just to make it back to the bottom of the stairs just to hear and see your old ass at the middle of the stairs after all of that" but you held back for the sake of needing a job and money.

"Let's head upstairs , so I could introduce you to my son brahms and my husband." She says as you make it up the stairs there waiting was a older man you that you assumed was Mr Heelshire.

"Ms Y/n I would like you to meet my husband, Mr Heelshire" said Mrs. Heelshire.

"It's very nice to meet you Ms. Y/n" he said as he stuck out his hand for you to shake.

"It's nice to meet you too Mr Heelshire"

"Okay now y/n I would like you too meet our son brahms" Mrs. Heelshire said , as they soon moved aside putting a glass-like doll into view that looks similar to the boy you saw in the family portrait.

Not wanting to be rude you put a smile on your face bending down to the height of the doll , figuring out that the elder couple must of had a loss of their son brahms years ago and this is how they cope.

"Hello brahms"

[ckret2]

Actually, that other anon makes me wonder how that whole plot line will be effected when everything is edited for compatability. If it's not to spoilery would you be willing to share what you have in mind? Will it be a significant change?

Nah, barely changed at all. For the statue, only a couple small things will change:

In earlier chapters i'll insert a couple mpments of Bill thinking "i can get out of this if i can find my statue, wherever it is, and get my soul back into it"; that way in ch 44 i can change his outrage from "you knew [that it exists]?!" to "you knew where it was?!" with only slight wordinc changes; plus it'll punch more if people remember he was holding onto that as his guaranteed escape just to find out it doesn't work

MAYBE, insert a stinger line to the effect of "Ford tries not to feel guilty about the unicorn hair barrier he and Mabel put around the statue last year, since that's prob why Bill can't get into it but he's totally not about to tell Bill that." There's a few issues with that though:

We know ford wrote about this incident in a journal. It probably wasn't J1, 2, or 3, because they're probably mostly full. I wrote that ford's J4 got stolen by Shmebulock in the fall and he started writing J5 then; next summer Bill stole J4 from Shmeb and has been using it since. So this incident CAN'T have been written about in J4 or Bill would know about the unicorn hair barrier & that Ford knows where his corpse is. Did Ford write it in J1 or J2 before tossing them into the void? (Can't be J3, i think we're all out of Secret Lost J3 Pages thanks.) Did Mabel (and Mabel's brother) take a trip back to GF in the fall after Ford had lost J4, and that's when Ford & Mabel made the barrier? This is an annoying detail i'll need to resolve.

when Bill finds out about the unicorn hair barrier, obviously he's gonna wanna go back and break that barrier and try shaking his hand again; and like, that's just gonna result in exactly the same thing we already did in ch 44, with him trying to shake and being devastated it didn't work. We only need that scene once. It's not heartbeaking the second time, it's just tedious. Gotta figure out how to make it non-tedious.

I can't NOT have him try again though, because if I don't, then readers will go "ooOOoo the only reason it didn't work is because of the barrier, so we're obviously building up to the big moment where he tries again and this time it works!!" Which we aren't, obviously. My original writing plans never included the unicorn hair barrier because it didn't exist yet, i'm not building up to the reveal that the statue actually works.

And I'm not interested in making people think it'll work the second time, 44 was MEANT to be the It Totally Doesn't Work scene. A red herring is only a red herring if you put it there on purpose; otherwise it's just a dead fish distracting everyone with its dead fish smell.

So the barrier's annoying. I'll solve it when I get to it.

For the overall plot arc (not just the statue chapter), the only thing I need to change is rewriting "Bill's scared the Axolotl's coming for him because maybe he wasn't supposed to come back to the 21st century even though he wasn't told not to" to "Bill's scared the Axolotl's coming for him because he escaped Theraprism." Which is WAY WAY BETTER. Honestly I thought Bill's motivation for thinking the Axolotl was gonna Get Him was the weakest part of the eclipse arc, so I am deeelighted that the Theraprism gives me something so much more frightening to substitute in. It'll also give me an opportunity to begin working in some info about the Ax's own character & motivation that otherwise I wouldn't be able to include until way into season 2.

This will require me to substantially rewrite Bill's conversation with the Ax—for the better—I've already rewritten like 70% of it. And... basically rewrite nothing else.

That's it. A tiny tweak to Bill's wording in ch44, MAYBE throw in a single line about the unicorn barrier once I decide how I'm going to handle it in the rest of the fic, rewrite his conversation with the Ax, the end.

All the other edits will be fluff from TBOB plumping things out and tiny nudges toward better TBOB compliance—slide in a hint of medical trauma to Bill's refusal to let Ford call a doctor, make a mention during the chess scene that sometimes Bill used to let Ford win, that sort of thing.

[temtamtom]

You had me at “very goofy” and “self-indulgent”. Please tell us more I HAVE to know more… for purely scientific purposes.

Ask was referencing this old post about a VeneTican & Seb family dynamic

Honestly this Headcanon is quite self-indulgent, and is built more on character dynamics/exploration than history and politics. Though, from my understanding, the territory of Seborga was donated to Benedictine monks of Lérins Abbey and was overseen by Prince-Abbots for a couple centuries. So do with that information what you will haha

I wanted to type out a whole in-depth answer but my brain is fried from Uni. It really all comes down to:

And also:

Tfw your golden, precious, "not-son"-son becomes a teenager and you butt heads because you are no longer perfect and infallible in his eyes, and because you criticize him for developing "queerer" mannerisms/interests. So now the terrifying possibility of losing your only family is becoming a reality, and out of love and desperation, you FINALLY start to reflect on your attitude - 💥

There's just something so nice about someone who has always been desperate for a family of some kind finally getting his prayers answered, and doing everything in his power to keep it- even if it means... ch... changing himself (gasp! Impossible...). Pietro is exceedingly stubborn so it'll take a while, but it's a start!

All of this because Feliciano, desperate for a last-minute baby sitter and with no one else to turn to, showed up at Pietro's door one day and reluctantly handed over his toddler ASDGSFS

Maybe I'll come back with sillier headcanons and/or a more in-depth analysis <3

Okay this has been in my inbox for a WHILE- sorry, things slip from my mind and I forgot to post my answer until now 😅 SORRY IF THIS POST IS MESSY OKAY I'M NORMAL ABOUT EM. I really want to share my vision and have it be understood but augh...

[mediocreanomaly]

Love your soulmate au for vashwood so much. What if it was with reader and knives?

Knives would be so confused with feeling random pains like a stubbed toe or a random pinch.

🌻Hope you have a good day🌻

Authors note: Yo! ofcourse I had to turn this into a post!!! My main story will be Vashwood but I'm basing this in the same world as the Vashwood x reader stuff, consider this a little side story I might expand on if it gets enough love lol you don't have to read the other parts to understand this tho

Read the Vashwood Parts Here!: Part 1 | Part 2

Read Part 2 Here!

Knives X Reader Soulmate AU

•Knives had learned about soulmates during his studies with Rem, a person all humans had that was tethered to them in some sort of spiritual or metaphysical sense, one that could feel your pain.

•It was stupid. In all honesty he was glad he wasn't human so he didn't have to deal with something so tedious. It would only slow him down, he couldn't imagine how humans dealt with such a hindrance

•He often listened to Vash ramble on about soulmates and offered little assurance, often saying things like "We aren't human, Vash. We don't have soulmates," "You shouldn't want a soulmate anyways it's a pain for no reason," "Will you stop talking about it already? It's beneath us"

•After the fall Knives all but forgets soulmates even exist. He's focused on bigger things and he doesn't have a soulmate anyway so the thought is nonexistent

•Then the oddest thing happens. He's busy destroying a town attempting to take their plant, it's a routine stop, when he swears he feels a pain shoot through his foot

•He quickly whips his head around, looking around to figure out what exactly could have done that but there's nothing but his own destruction. Weird.

•He thinks about it for a couple days because he isn't used to getting hurt but reluctantly chalks it up to him somehow being careless with his blades, even though that explanation doesn't really sit right with him it's the only thing that makes sense

•Then, a couple months later, in the sanctuary of his own quarters, he feels a burn across his hand. He furrows his brow and slowly looks over his hand over and over to see where the burn is coming from yet there's no mark, just the feeling

•Fool him once shame on him fool him twice....

•He marches down to Conrad's office, irritated about whatever's happening. Conrad listens as he explains the two incidents, how there's no mark, how it's annoying and distracting him from more important matters

•Conrad nods and says he's going to run an experiment, before Knives can fully ask what says experiment is Conrad reaches over and roughly jabs him in the side

•Safe to say Conrad almost lost his head that day. In fact Knives blades were pressed to his neck when he felt a returning jab in his arm

•Once Knives realizes what's happening he's furious. He's a superior being he doesn't need a soulmate he's been fine with out one for a century, he doesn't even understand, why now? Why when he's so close to achieving his plans?

•After this he makes it a top priority to kill you.

What? You thought he was going to be merciful just because you're his soulmate? This whole thing is just a bump in the road of his plans, it'll be easy. He'll kill you and then he doesn't have to worry about feeling your pain. Besides, right now it's just a stubbed toe or a burn but come tomorrow he can't afford to be distracted if you break an arm or get shot

•So he rampages towns non-stop, trying to find you, hoping he'll feel his own blade for a split second before it can go back to normal

•During his rampages...is when you join Dr.Conrad in his studies. You were a plant specialist, the most renowned in your field, yet...the more you studied plants, the more you interacted and saw...the more you hated humans for how you used them

•You felt humans didn't deserve plants, didn't deserve the sentient life force the human race had created, so when you found out about Dr.Conrad you'd practically begged him to let you join the cause

•So ironically Knives was pretty much wasting his time being out causing mass destruction, if he had stayed he might've put the pieces together a bit faster, but he didn't

•Unlike Vash, Knives doesn't really let himself get hurt, he does the hurting so Knives doesn't realize you're his soulmate for a long time, but this is good because if he realized right off the bat you'd probably be dead

•Instead he slowly comes to learn of your existence. He doesn't really care much about you one way or the other when he first meets you. Your Conrads help? Okay. That's it, that's all there is really he doesn't care

•Yet for some reason...every time he passes through to speak with Conrad he can't help but watch you work while he pretends to be focusing on whatever the man was saying

•It's almost maddening because he doesn't understand why you, of all people, have caught his attention, so he starts trying to interact with you more. It's a little unnerving at first, I mean...it's Knives. He either silently stands over you as you work or makes less than nice comments about how you're doing things wrong

•But you aren't deterred. In fact, you're pretty interested in Knives. You've studied plants your whole life but Knives...Knives is something different, something more. So you use the time he hovers to ask him questions about himself, how his gate works, if he sleeps or eats, logging each difference between him and humans and him and other plants

•Maybe it's the way your brain is wired from interacting with so many plants, maybe it's the fact Knives seems to pay particular attention to you,(maybe it's the fact you're soulmates lmao) but you're basically the only one who can read him. You don't know how but you pick up on the slight mouth twitches, the shifts in his shoulders, the difference between his "I'm annoyed" grimace and his "I'm enjoying this but I don't want you to know" grimace

•He won't admit it to you, not yet, but he's starting to feel...fond of you. He'll pretend he needs to speak to Conrad about the progress of his experiments but really he's just there to answer whatever questions you have and to talk to you in return

•Now don't forget, you can feel your soulmate's pain...and this is Trigun. You are the first to realize you're soulmates. How you might ask? Well let's put it this way, would you want to feel yourself getting destroyed during the events of Ja'Lai?

•The Ja'Lai incident. It's possibly the worst pain you've ever felt in your life, despite the way Knives grits his teeth through it till the end to an average person? It's unbearable. You black out multiple times from the feeling, body lying in a heap as you try to figure out what's happening

•Once you hear about what happened in Ja'Lai...you instantly know. Luckily (and much to his protest) Legato eventually lets you help nurse Knives back to health

•You sit on the side of Knives bed, your own body still feeling like you have third-degree burns as you watch the body of the man you'd been falling for. You knew he didn't want a soulmate, part of you wondered if you should even tell him when he wakes up...

•Well...who knows how he'll respond. It doesn't matter now, though; he won't be waking up any time soon, so you have time to come up with a plan. Let's just hope your previous time with him has proved enough to win him over.

[buds-and-baubles]

so i've mentioned about my wildstorm to dc transfer idea a ton but.. it's officially complete! it'll be under a read more due to its length.

spoilers for wildstorm's world's end arc but especially for the authority: world's end.

the following concept takes places after the authority: world's end 2008-2010 issue number 17 (year of said comic is 2009).

after jenny quantum absorbed the caged by universe and disappeared, she was left adrift in space/nothingness unconscious. she's woken up by a visually younger version of herself who mouths (since there's no noise in space) how to stabilize and seperate herself from the caged baby universe.

she manages to do so but has no idea where she is or how to get back home. with no other ideas in mind and the caged baby universe momentarily shrunken to be put in her pocket, she manipulates quantum reality to travel to infinite city aka the place she created where all past jenny's live.

she asks the other jenny's for help to get back home and they tell her she already knows what to do. before she goes, jenny sparks hands her a couple envelopes and tells her they're for the authority roster (including one for jenny herself).

arriving back on earth, she goes on a journey across the apocalyptic wasteland, following after traces of the doctor. when she finds habib in a self preserving form of slumber, she discovers gaia rothstein aka one of the other century babies there. she sends gaia away, who was too distraught that he wouldn't wake up and didn't allow her to help even in slumber. jenny tells gaia to go find the other century baby and help him.

pulling the caged baby universe out of her pocket, the energy presence (whose disappearance had made habib so hysterical that he fled in the first place) wakes the doctor, thereby snapping him out of his self preserving state.

they teleport back to the carrier and have a tearful reunion. she tells them about the letters but says they'll have to wait to read them when this is all over.

jenny tells angie to send out duplicates of herself to all (wildstorm) hero/antihero teams to send a message: that everyone on earth who is still alive superpowered or not will be leaving this earth courtesy of herself, citing that there will be multiple invasions from multiversal/alien forces and a multiversal situation that would remove them from earth in the future even if they stayed (she doesn't know yet what this situation is). this references to the imminent sliding albion, kherubim exile aka red blade and daemonite invasions.

putting the caged baby universe back in the carrier, with jenny with habib's hand on her shoulder, they put their powers together to transfer all of wildstorm characters elsewhere (including the carrier) to an unknown place the doctor could sense was habitable and called to him.

using her powers in such quick succession had mentally taxed her enough that she physically becomes 11 years old (chronologically and mentally still 9 years old).

with this change, they are slotted into dc universe as their new home and cannot go back (not that there is anything to go back to). they arrive to dc in the same year they had left their earth (2009), which gives jenny quantum two years to figure out how to prevent the multiversal situation from not coming to fruition (flashpoint).

the carrier resorts to hiding herself again in the safety of the bleed to avoid the new things of this earth and to be where she's more comfortable (so that the justice league watchtower cannot find her). despite that she has the caged baby universe back, she still needs time to heal after everything.

with the new world, they split up not only to see what's up in this new world but also to have that second chance to heal. apollo and midnighter get an apartment in san francisco to give jenny quantum a second chance at a childhood.

in jenny sparks' letter, she named shen to be her successor leading the authority with angie as her second. jenny sparks tells jenny quantum in her letter that she should utilize this second chance to be a jenny her way (referencing how jenny started to smoke and drink after meeting jenny sparks in infinite city), and enjoy her second chance.

swift declares that the authority enters a semi-retired state still with their chaotic neutral/good structure, with them only all coming together to help on world/multiversal ending events. they can still proceed on solo or small group missions for things they feel strongly about doing, they just need to check in.

all the team decides to lay low (though meets up together on the carrier or in their apartments) so that the various teams of this new earth don't know they're here. it's up to other writers for wildstorm characters if they reveal themselves because otherwise, i imagine most of them are hiding and are discovered one by one.

the engineer and swift get an apartment in new york despite that angie also frequently leaves to be on the carrier to work with the shiftship. angie also gave all the team untraceable flip cellphones that they can communicate with just in case anybody on this earth has radiotelepathy.

shen alternates between trying to get a feel for the new skies of the earth for all the things familiar and unfamiliar about it, hanging out in the apartment, or in the carrier to keep her eyes peeled in case any big event needing their attention comes up.

hawksmoor goes off on his own to see all the cities of this new earth, including ones their old earth didn't have (ex: metropolis).

the doctor goes off to explore the new magic of this earth, making sure his connection with the garden of ancestral memory wasn't disturbed by changing earths which connects all that history now to this earth while teaching him all there is about dc's earth too.

apollo and midnighter alternate whether they do solo or group missions together or with others (whether with the team roster or not who do much of the same mission wise), or spend their days with jenny together as a family.

jenny quantum with her free time not with her dads' and since she's stepping back from leading very begrudgingly has to participate by going to school (whether from home or public is her choice). she still teleports to go wherever she wants (including to rock concerts or infinite city) and starts asking over and over for a puppy.

what do other wildstorm characters do once they arrive to dc? i don't know, whatever they want i guess.

oh and it's not important to the plot but midnighter's flip phone is still bedazzled by jenny and with a hello kitty keychain on it like my original transfer idea. this is important to me.

[trulycertain]

i'll be your mirror

In which Astarion receives a gift of a portrait. Developing Tav/Astarion. 2k words.

Astarion forgets that little conversation entirely - he's wondered what he looks like now so many times in two centuries that one more occasion, albeit one where he was rather less solitary in his vanity, hardly stands out.

He forgets it until he ducks out of his tent into the morning light, and... Interesting. There's a sheet of paper tucked under his jar of - ugh - slightly congealed blood. He can't help the dread rising at the back of his throat. Some note left to toy with him? (He can almost see it: that hideously neat, tight little handwriting. I know where you are, boy. He focuses on the sun's warmth on his skin, and takes a breath he doesn't need. No. It'll at least be a damn sight harder for the bastard now.)

Shaking off his paralysis, he unfolds it, and finds... a portrait. Hm. He squints, smoothing it and trying not to smear charcoal all over his fingers.

A handsome fellow, certainly - straddling the line between that and pretty. High cheekbones and long eyelashes and an elegant, straight nose. A bit of a wry glint in the eyes. (Impressive, capturing that. For all his talents with a dagger or a body, he's never been that kind of artist.) Crow's-feet around them, too, and lines around the mouth; a man, not a boy. Delicately pointed ears. A head of soft, pale curls.

The realisation drops onto him something like a very large rock.

...Ah.

He touches his own hair, absentmindedly, feeling a texture he'd know like the back of his hand but hasn't seen from that angle in two hundred years. If his hand is shaking a little, no-one else has to know.

He stares at cheekbones he must have traced over a thousand times, trying to rebuild a faint, shadowed picture that was fading in his head by the year. At the bow of this strange, handsome elf's lips. He maps it on his own face, finger tracing over another familiar shape that he could never quite envision. Besides, he'd been preoccupied with the newer, unwelcome shape of fangs.

But it doesn't feel wrong. The picture in his head was more of a featureless shadow with fantastic hair than anything else, but this… this has the ring of familiarity. They've even bothered to capture his moles; he puts a fingertip to his cheek, where one had been forgotten, not raised enough for him to know. 

Someone who sees him often, then, who knows his face. Someone - 

I'll be your mirror. Those hazel eyes tracing carefully over his face, when a night or two ago she caught him craning for a reflection that would never come. 

Lora. 

He's seen her scribbling away enough times; he just assumed she kept a journal. He saw the odd drawing - plants, mainly, things she'd bring to the tree-hugging bores at the Grove and ask about, or discuss with Gale... 

Like she's doing now. They're off in the woods with Gale trying to teach her some spell, and the worst thing? That's not even a euphemism. Even now, they're probably deep in debate. Ugh. 

But it does mean that the little journal she keeps is sitting on a log, temptingly unoccupied. He puts the drawing carefully aside, and then it's a matter of moments to wander over and close his hands on the book. If she didn't want anyone to look, she shouldn't have put it with the communal supplies. 

Making himself at home on the log, he flicks through it. Gods, she hasn't even used a cipher. To-do lists that seem to involve far too much saving helpless idiots, half-scribbled song lyrics and roughly dotted notes - even he can't somehow make those his business, and swiftly moves on - and… there. 

He recognises those roughly-drawn lines, the way they soften out to the curves of the cheeks. Gale, sketching out some mnemonic absentmindedly with three fingers, a faint swirl of magic drawn in a couple of lines. Karlach, beaming and dimpling quite becomingly. Wyll, practising his forms with a rapier. Shadowheart, deep in meditation while Lae'zel scowls at her.

And on the other page… Ah. Hello.

If he'd wondered, truly wondered, whether the other portrait was him, this one confirms it: he's caught in laughter, a wineglass in hand, and... He stares at his own fangs. She hasn't shied away from drawing them, but there's been more attention paid in rendering the firelight on his hair, the crinkling around his eyes. Neither fear nor fetishism. He... honestly, he has no idea what to do with that. Another, in profile view, and something must have rather pissed him off, from the look of it. Little notes cluster around the drawings on what herbs she needs to find, on infernal iron for Karlach, on drow poison for Astarion.

He turns the page, and is greeted by a drawing of the day they were caught in an impressive downpour and took shelter in a cave. Well, they were all caught, but the subject is him, specifically. He looks at half-flattened, sopping hair and his truly unimpressed expression. Is that what it looks like when he glares? He catches his brows pulling tight, in mimicry. This should be mocking, but it feels more… It's not as unflattering as it should be. Almost fond, which is odd, considering the sheer amount of time he and Lora spend arguing.

Perhaps… hmm. One doesn't draw a face that much without being a little enamoured of it, surely. That's probably all she wants, the look of him. She still grimaces at his goblin jokes, still stops to help every fool going and sighs when he complains. He'd thought perhaps they'd had a little breakthrough when she let him bite her, when she speculated on the taste of their companions - she has a streak of dark humour that he rather enjoys, when she's not too uptight to let it out. But then she put them all at risk and wasted time they didn't have to rescue that idiot bard from the goblins, and when Astarion glared at her, she glared back even more fiercely. Sometimes a glimpse of the sunrise is just a lantern, or some other foolish metaphor she'd use. So, seeing as his sparkling personality certainly isn't the draw here, it must be his looks. He can work with that. Hardly the first time. He thought he'd have to try his luck again with the terrifying gith or gods forbid, the wizard, but perhaps all isn't lost with the leader of their merry little band.

There's another drawing that makes him pause: him caught examining his own hand, in the sun. The look on his face - he's smiling, just slightly. He looks… happy. He doesn't look that soft, does he? The kind of soft that he can't afford to be. It's dangerous, it's stupidly complacent, it's… Annoyed, wary embarrassment prickles up his spine - has he been that obvious? When did she see that? How did he not catch her staring?

He flips back to the more general (safer) drawings. "Karlach," he says to his erstwhile red companion, who's currently keeping watch.

"Yeah?" She heads over to his makeshift seat, axe still slung over her shoulder. Her eyebrows raise. "Huh, those are good. Look at me!" She reaches out a finger - Astarion draws back the book protectively, and she remembers, face falling. The sight shouldn't bother him as much as it does.

"Yes, yes, but are they… accurate?"

She sits next to him, axe resting by her knee, and her eyes widen. She squints at him. "Oh shit, mirrors. How much do you remember?"

He shrugs, and if she looks any more pitying he may have to bite her, so he focuses on the book instead.

"These are… yeah, these are definitely you. Ha, look, this one's got the way your hair goes all curly round your ears! Aww, look at your little fangs!"

"'Little'?" he says, offended. He peers at her.

She grins at him, pointedly, with a mouth full of many.

"Hmph. Not all of us can be a hellspawn."

She's nudging the page carefully with a nail before he can protest. Her eyes widen. "Wow, these are really sweet…" Pausing, she looks up at him. "Astarion, where did you get this?"

"It was… communal," he tries, vaguely.

"Please tell me this isn't Lora's."

"She checks it around us all the time! She showed me her list of herbs just yesterday! It's not as if I'm reading her diary." But there's a reason he didn't just ask. They both know it.

"Astarion, sometimes you can be a real shit."

He knows. He stares at the drawings and reassembles his usual lack of care. "Hm? Sorry, I was busy being distracted by how pretty I am."

"I swear -"

He hears the steady footsteps and a creak of leather even under Karlach's words - he's always been a hard man to sneak up on - and looking up, resigns himself.

Lora says, "How come no-one invited me to this party?" Her footsteps stop abruptly when she sees what he's holding. There's the faintest flicker in her eyes, and then she pastes on a resigned, tired sort of smile. "I guess this is what I get for giving you gifts."

That… itches. He's had far worse said to him - had knives under his ribs - so it's not as if it really hurts, but she so clearly means it. She's not trying to posture, or hurt him. Her disappointment simply is.

Karlach and Gale seem to be having some kind of mouthed conversation, with hand gestures. Astarion distinctly catches the words Not getting involved on Gale's side. "Tell me if you need his arse kicking, mate," Karlach says, and stands, ushering Gale away with a hand on his elbow.

"I was looking for soup recipes?" he tries, not even aiming to be convincing.

"Sure." Lora takes her lyre from her back and leans it against the log, then sits to untie her boots. She doesn't look at him once. It's almost impressive.

It should be a relief: a break from her incessant brightness that felt too much like unwelcome sun, back in the pre-tadpole days. Finally not having to listen to how there are kind people, you'll see, now rescue that bunny from under a cart. Gods, somehow even her hair is wilting. It's pitiful. He'd be angry at the manipulation, but this seems too exhausted to be a manipulation. It's… real, he thinks.

Leaning on pity should work - and besides, it's the truth. "Can you blame me, after two hundred years? I just wanted to see if you had any more." He smooths a hand over the corner of the page. "I asked you what you saw when you looked at me. This is it, isn't it?" 

She nods, and that's all. A silent bard - somehow almost as ominous as a loud crypt.

He takes one last look, drinking in the familiar unfamiliarity of his face, and then carefully puts the book onto her lap. "Here. I think this is yours." His voice is quieting before he can help it - too damn soft, he thinks again, though perhaps softness will get her to let down her defences where simple seduction won't. "I can promise you, there won't be any repeats of my little endeavour today." Her eyes slowly raise to his, and he says, "It answered my question." He clears his throat, crosses one leg over another, and tries to look elegant rather than self-pitying. "You've… given me back my face. It was always just one more thing Cazador stole from me. Thank you." The words are far, far too real. He didn't quite mean to say it that bluntly. 

She blinks, seeming taken aback by his little display - and then she nods. The beginnings of forgiveness are in her slackening shoulders, the way she takes the briefest glimpse at him before it's gone again. It won't be a problem, travelling together today, even if she'll be quietly licking her wounds. Good.

The broken mirror is still lying in his tent when he returns. He sighs at the sight of it. And then he shifts old wine bottles and blood jars out of the way. It doesn't need much room, a small charcoal drawing - it certainly doesn't need him to clear a whole corner of his tent. Even so, he does, propping it up and looking at the life in his own eyes for longer than he'd want to admit. 

[crascet]

Honest Thoughts: The 2024 Video Game Awards and Announcements

So, a couple of nights ago, me and a discord server I'm in did a group watch for the VGAs this year. Normally, we wouldn't care that much about the awards but would just watch them for the announcements for new games anyways. The award show itself was pretty decent anyways with some fun parts here and there. Statler and Waldorf were the best part of the show hands down, as they always were in the Muppets Show. The presentations for Best Narrative from Sam Lake was also pretty good as well as the presentation for Best Adaptation from Jesse Pinkman and Lucina (I will not specify that further). Now for the awards themselves, there are some pretty good winners, especially from Metaphor and Astro Bot with the ladder winning Best Game. Glad to see those two games win awards here and I could check them both out next year. I didn't like how Best Fighting Game was relegated to the First Act as I would love to see that on the main show with a presentation instead of a quick mention. Back to presentations, the one with the two TLOU actresses was the worst part of the show to me tbh, they were just boring.

Now for the announcements themselves and WOW they were something! First, there was the announcement of a new Ninja Gaiden game with Ninja Gaiden: Ragebound that seem to have both the old and new versions of Ryu Hayabusa. I'm already excited for this as a fan of ninjas and with hearing the difficulty of the first NG game and the first 3D game, which is a game I should check out some time.

There was then the announcement of Clive Rosfield from FF XVI being the last DLC character for Tekken 8's Season 1 DLC which is really cool to see as it follows Noctis being in T7 as DLC. I know most people wanted Tifa to be in Tekken (including myself), but hey, Clive looks great and the DLC stage looks great!

To a new project announced, there is genDESIGN's unannounced project, being made from the same creator of Ico, Shadow of the Colossus, and The Last Guardian. I absolutely love SotC and I did enjoy myself with the demo of TLG found with the SotC remaster. The game itself seems to follow in the footsteps of SotC with a climbing mechanic, but there could be some cases of Ico within it. Not much is known seen in the teaser other than the gameplay and how it has a giant robot to be an important part of the game. Can't wait to see more about this project.

And then there's Intergalactic and I'm... conflicted. On one hand, Naughty Dog are FINALLY working on a new, original IP that's NOT a remaster, PC port, or both of The Last of Us Parts I and II, so thank god for that. On the other hand, Neil Druckmann is directing this game too. Now, if you like TLOU I and II, that's fine. I understand why people like those games, or at least the first game. It has a mass appeal to everyone with its narrative in both games. It's just that ND just focuses on ONLY those two games and nothing else, just shoving down our throats on how great it is, and I'm worried it'll be the same thing with Intergalactic for the next 5 years. But who knows, maybe it'll turn out great, idk.

Now for the five announcements that stole the show from two companies.

First, there is Sega with the one-two punch of Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio's two new projects: a new installment in the Virtua Fighter franchise and Project Century. Seeing VF come back after years of new versions of VF5 is awesome, with the only two characters being confirmed for the game being Akira Yuki and Stella who is either the daughter of Jacky or Sarah Bryant, or (and this is sort of a fan theory) a clone of Sarah created by J6 given that she looks similar to her, especially that it seems that VF6 as I could call it could take place years after VF5 and Judgement 6 could return. As for other characters coming back, I expect Pai, Kage Maru, and Jacky to be here. Lau I'm guessing is definitely dead as this point with his move set going to either Pai or to Lei Fei, but time will tell. Then there's Project Century, which seems to be a Lost Judgement-esque game taking place in 1915 Japan and it does look really interesting to play. I can check out the demo if there's going to be one of Century. These two look really great and I'm definitely interested in both, especially with RGG's track record with Yakuza/Like A Dragon, which is another franchise I'm itching to play next year.

On the same topic of Sega, there's the announcement of a new Sonic racing game with Sonic Racing: CrossWorlds. Given from the little time it was shown with the only character being shown being Shadow, it seems to be more in track of Sega All Stars racing, which sounds really cool to me seeing a comeback from the racing series, I just hope it'll be better than Team Sonic Racing. Sonic does seem to be on a revival with the releases of Sonic Frontiers, Sonic X Shadow Generations, and Sonic 3 coming out next week, huh? Glad to see it.

And now for Capcom starting with the return of two dormant franchises.

To start, there's the announcement of Onimusha: Way of the Sword. It's awesome to see Onimusha get a new game in a nearly 20-year absence with the release of Onimusha: Dawn of Dreams back in 2006 and with the remaster of the first game back in 2019. It'll release in 2026, but it looks great from the gameplay footage so can't wait to kill more demons!

And then there's the Okami sequel being directed from the original director, Hideki Kamiya returning to Capcom and reforming CLOVER studios which is the best announcement from the VGA's this year. I have never played Okami before, but I now have both the PC and Switch ports of Okami HD, and I do plan on playing them during the winter break. I just hope that the sequel won't ignore Okamiden as I really love the puppy so much. And with the reformation of CLOVER, there's a good chance Viewtiful Joe 3 could happen in the future, but I do wonder about Kamiya's Ultraman-esque project he was working on years ago when he was still working in Platinum. Other than some worrying thoughts of me hoping the Okami sequel won't be that controversial in its development like with Bayo 3.

A pretty good and fun VGA this year with some well-deserved winners and great announcements to look forward to.

[themadlu]

A Simple Thing – Pt. 1

Astarion x Zélie

It's done. Cazador is well and truly gone, Astarion is finally a free elf and his first desire is to give all that's left of his body and soul to the one who saved him from his master and from himself.

Not out of need, but of want. He wants his Zélie so bloody (pun intended) much that he takes her to his grave, and on top of it too.

So when she leaves him behind, when she realises Cazador is only one of the endless troubles plaguing him and her human life is too short to fix even a fraction of those, he breaks. Like the pathetic child he's always been.

TW: Nothing much, mentions of Astarion's past, self-worth issues, very unreliable narrator (he's still working on himself, it'll take time). Some light smut, emotional hurt/comfort.

WC: ~2,5K

Not really proofread, and written with little time, so sorry if it sucks.

Part 2 should come out sometime next week (but it's Easter, so don't quote me on that).

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird (thank you for the idea as always!), @amywritesthings

The room is stifling, heavy, with red brocades and somewhat pretentious ornaments covering wooden walls and glass windows with a funereal flair. Dim light from the moon and the outside streets filters through thick curtains in skeletal rays, outreached towards ghostly pale fingers hanging off the side of a bed. Astarion’s dark eyes stare, unblinking, chest still in the stale air and skin so pallid he looks more dead than usual. A pretty corpse sprawled on an unmade bed, ready for burying or taking. 

He hates this; despises how the first civil accommodation they could find in weeks was so reminiscent of his own coffin, of the last two-hundred years of torment. Phantom pain grips him as unwelcome memories of bloody fingernails and mossy grave dirt invade his mind. He opens and clenches his fist to dispel the rising panic, the only sign of life coming from his prone form, and holds what’s been the one meagre comfort during the last centuries to his chest. The elf curls into a ball around what is left of his burial shroud, a once refined cotton cloth now reduced to tattered rags. 

Dirty and disgusting, but his. 

Where the hells is she?!

Cazador was waiting for his new spawn in the cemetery that night, but Astarion relishes in knowing that the vampire lord will not claim him again anytime soon. Never again, actually, as unbelievable as that was. His little hero made sure of that, a couple days before; thorough and proper as always, even in front of a hell-sent ritual, merciless as he’d never seen her before. Only for him. She cut with his dagger through the flesh and bones of her (his, theirs) enemies using techniques he taught her, marching through the horde to free him from his prison. She momentarily let her “oh-so-holy” ideals loosen enough to keep him safe and the thought stirs something wild and warm in the pit of his stomach and his chest. 

Hunger for blood is familiar enough, but hunger for another, that restless longing is still foreign to the elf. Being with others meant manipulation, sweat, sex, pain, a performed debauchery, but not with Zélie.

(Even though he’s been a whore longer than he’s been anything else.)

Living with her is…simple. Scarily so. Natural, even when his (perfectly sensible) selfishness clashes with her (absolutely infuriating) courageous generosity. They disagreed and fought so intensely at first, in the wilds (well, he fought her while she stayed next to him in silence, cutting him a look that could make an Aasimar fall.)

Astarion picks up a discarded book from the bed, trying to resume his reading. It’s a childish collection of Faerunian fables, yet he finds himself drawn to it whenever his fears resurface.

If he were capable of honesty, he would admit that he reaches for that dusty volume whenever Zélie is not with him, because she gifted it to him at the grove as she turned down the offer of an unforgettable fuck back at that pitiful excuse for a party. The elf can still remember the onslaught of contrasting emotions all at once: relief, annoyance (because, really, when otherwise would someone looking like her ever manage to bed someone like him?), thankfulness and fear. 

If sex was not on the table, what else could he give her? 

What would it take for her not to discard him when his limited usefulness runs out?

And what now, that his tormentor is nothing but a pitiful heap of ashes and the pale elf is doomed to remain a useless spawn forever more? 

That same fear slithers through Astarion again, wounding around his chest so tightly he almost snaps the book in two. Justice was served. The evil vampire lord was killed and the pathetic spawns were freed. He is free, and yet he is confined in a stuffy room that makes his skin crawl with past nightmares. Astarion groans and tries to concentrate on the words on the page again, even though he’s already finished the book twice, with little success. Barely two nights have passed since he took Zélie to the cemetery and claimed his rebirth by laying with her on top of his grave. Warmth fills him at the image of his stern, solemn hero paying respects to the patch of dirt he crawled out and to the long-forgotten elf who did not survive the centuries of horror. That night, Zélie knelt and bowed so deeply her forehead touched the cold ground, murmuring something he couldn’t understand. His ruined soul trembled so strongly at that act of reverence he cupped her cheeks to lift her face away from his burial, noses bumping together. Grave dirt stuck to her forehead and he gently wiped it off with his thumb while tutting in mocking disapproval. “Honestly, darling, no need for the theatrics,” his usual smirk faltered a little as a sudden wave of affection surged through him at her misplaced respect. She, holier than any of them, was whispering prayers to some useless deity on his behalf. He felt anger and shame lodge in his throat. 

You’re the only creature deserving of worship, my love.

“Not to seem ungrateful, but prayers never did me any good. Do not waste precious time,” her chapped lips were raging fire against as took them between his own. “Not when death could find us tomorrow.” His passionate kiss morphed into a loving peck when Zélie raised a finger between their faces, solemn as ever. “I am praying for the Astarion Ancunin,” she brushed her fingers on the tombstone and the undead shivered as if he could feel her touch in his very bones, “who was left behind. May he find peace in seeing his resilience finally rewarded.” 

She then trained her gaze on him in that way that made him squirm. He used to hate her for it, back when he lived in terror of what she’d do to him after all his masochistic pushing and prodding; now, he craves it evermore. Her palm splayed on his chest and he cursed whatever entity kept her away from him for so long. “And I pray to my god for the strength to guide this Astarion,” she tapped her index finger against his dead heart, “to see his worth in this world. To me and to others.” Astarion barely noticed his mouth parting in stupor at his lover’s words. 

Infuriating, precious woman. 

Astarion fully abandons his book, letting it fall on the bed, as the weight of her sentiment nestles inside him with disturbing ease. As if he were made for it. Her stalwart presence has the downright annoying capability of robbing him of his masks and his snark and his spite—the foundation of his entire being. He is left entirely exposed to her assessing eyes, yet he has never felt safer, more alive. He never wants to be out of her sight again, he decides. Never wants her to lose herself as he once did. Zelie’s spirit is near unbreakable and stupidly just (She would never agree with him on this, but he witnessed it first hand, after weeks of failed temptations and rancorous conversations), and Astarion will happily murder and steal and torture their path through the world if it means she can hold onto her ideals a little longer. He already did, when she was but a weird stranger to charm, as he finished off the enemies she so generously spared. 

Astarion lets out a strained chuckle, because he cannot believe he fell so irreparably for such an idiotic creature, let alone an honourable one. And now—now that she has saved him in any way a person can be saved, she leaves him in a stale tavern room. The elf covers his eyes with his pale hands in frustration. The voices in his head—Cazador’s taunting timber—tease him that his Zélie has finally come to her senses and seen him for the wretch he is. He will never be more than a lowly spawn, and leaving him in camp is her polite and proper way to ensure he doesn’t hinder their world-saving mission with his selfish ideas and his weaknesses. 

The world can rot. 

Astarion has already decided. the moment things go awry he’s dragging Zélie away from Toril itself if he must. She can glare and hate him all she wants, but he will not let the only one who ever mattered to him to protect a bunch of ungrateful, unknown bastards (The same bastards who took any part of him for themselves.) Gods, he sounds—is—so disgustingly desperate. 

He claws at his biceps with his hands, and tryings to distract himself from his worries again. It’s almost evening and Zélie hasn’t returned from the city. So haven’t Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira, but Astarion is not a selfless being, and he only wants his precious hero to come back to him. He focuses on the night at the cemetery, on how he all but pounced on the woman who just destroyed his last defences with few thoughtful, honest words. He crawled on top of her like the monstrous thing he was, and she held his face so gently, caressed his ears and hair so devotedly he couldn’t contain a laughing sob. 

He gets hard at the memory of her letting him take the lead—trusting him, a vampire enamoured with her blood, so completely that he flipped them over and almost begged her to take him in any way she wanted. In her mouth with his back against his tombstone, clutching the stone as he moaned in the moonlight, in her core on top of his grave, where his coffin was laid, trying not to shout his name too loudly. Astarion, the one in the Elfsong, shuts his eyes as he feels himself and discovers a growing wet patch seeping through his trousers. 

He groans, tender and ready. 

But Zélie is not with him this time, so the familiar disgust at his defiled body and soul grips him again and makes him gag with the certainty that night was a one off, a way to celebrate a successful rescue and nothing more. It’s not like they can reach those peaks of pleasure at will anyway—Astarion is still too broken for that, too pathetic to offer his only saviour the one reward he can give her. He can hear Cazador’s laugher echo in his mind. 

No! She would never—she loves me! She doesn’t lie, it was real, what we have is real!

The laughter doesn’t stop, forcing Astarion to curl on his side and press his hands against his ears. Zélie loves him—he knows this, because she told him twice, even though she’d rather throw herself off a cliff than deliver declarations of affection so openly. 

“Shut up, shut up, just shut up!” 

“Astarion? Are you talking to that awful book again?” His little human’s voice cuts through the nightmarish laughter and the pale elf clings to it. 

He schools his relieved expression into a more neutral mask and sprints off the bed towards Zélie, his Zélie, safe and whole and… stepping backwards to put some distance between them. Astarion cannot stop his dark eyes from going impossibly wide at her behaviour. He panics for a moment, fearing Orin used her skills to take his leader from camp, but the vampire would not be fooled by a cheap imitation—he would recognise his love anywhere, her minute idiosyncrasies and the smell of her and her blood engraved into his memory evermore. This is definitely Zélie, keeping her distance and studying him as if he were a ghoul (He is.) 

Then, her gaze shifts downwards and her brows arch. 

Shit.

The cooling wet patch on his crotch stares back at him in mocking. “Ah, darling, I…” 

Fuck.

Astarion has been thoroughly trained on keeping up a flawless, polite, desirable front over the centuries, but he cannot think of how to best express his utter mortification at this moment. Pathetic, a consummate lover—a prostitute—like him wetting himself at the mere thought of–

“Astarion, are you—well, are you—well, uh, are you...well?” It would have been extremely satisfying to witness the rare sight of a discombobulated Zélie—something he seemed to be the cause of most times, a point of pride for him—if only he did not find himself in the same predicament. 

Say something, you wretched imbecile!

“I…I was…thinking of my brave, perfect hero,” he inched closer to her, seductive act shackling his creeping terror in the dark corner of his mind he hasn’t escaped to since the woman in front of him accepted him into her life. “And I just could not stop myself from remembering your delicious cries from the other night…and how you took me so well—” 

He should know by now that his Zélie can see him better than he’ll ever see himself. “That’s very, uhm, flattering, Astarion, but it does not answer my question. Are you well?” She is focusing on his face, keeping her gaze averted from his crotch with that impossible, utterly incomprehensible respect (They have already slept together and he all but threw himself at her in earnest.) and how could she just not understand?!

“Am I well? Oh, why darling, I’m simply marvellous! I’ve had the pleasure of lounging in this fine establishment the whole day, laying on a heavenly soft bed and staring at this tasteful walls,” Astarion’s frustration and insecurities bubble up his throat and he cannot stop himself. He is lashing at the one person he reveres, again. Proving he does not deserve her (He never will, but he is a selfish monster of the night after all.). “And all this while you were out on your merry way, gods know where, with a senile druid, a joke of a wizard and a murder-happy Githianky!” 

“You are ‘murder-happy’ too, Astarion. And more senile than Jaheira, if we’re talking about years and not physical ageing—”

But they’re not me! 

“That’s not the point! You swore you’d be guiding me or what meaningless, shallow promises you made, then I let you fuck me on my grave, then—” 

Then you left me behind. As I knew it would happen. 

“Are you quite done, my love?” Astarion stills, then sniffles in indignation. His—Zélie has only called him “love” twice so far and both times she did so to call him back from whatever spiralling thoughts sent him cowering in the furthest corners of his mind. But she clearly has no interest in having him at her side now, so hearing that so-rarely-used term of endearment makes a pained rattle come from his still chest. She is going to end whatever fever dream was between them. The certainty is so encompassing his hands shake from it, and he promptly hides them behind his back.