#magic so importantly it makes me think of magic

[bananabreads]

I absolutely adore your dad!lads series. Every single post gives me so much serotonin 🥰. I love how much personality you put into each of their kids!

I saw that you're requests are open and thought it could be cute to see their children losing their first tooth because I randomly remembered how that happened to me.

Of course only if you want to!

More importantly thank you so so much for writing 🤗 and I hope both sides of your pillow are cold :3

Dad!lads and their child losing their first ever tooth (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)

— ♥︎♥︎ Dad!Rafayel, Dad!Caleb, Dad!Sylus, Dad!Zayne, Dad!Xavier — Inbox is open for requests and questions!

RAFAYEL —

Unlike most kids, your daughter loved going to the dentist. She thought the bright lights, little mirrors, and spinning chairs were magical. So when her first ever baby tooth started wobbling, and the tiniest sliver of a new one began peeking behind it, she was practically bouncing around the house.

“Daddy, We need to go to the dentist, right now!” she told Rafayel dramatically one morning, clutching her cheek like it was a life or death situation.

You both chuckled, and after a quick visit, the dentist gently helped her pop the tooth out. She didn’t even flinch, just sat there proudly, clutching the tiny tooth like it was a diamond.

When you tried to offer the little tooth box the clinic gave her, she shook her head. “No one touches it but me.”

Fair enough. She clutched it in her little palm the entire ride home, even while she messily devoured a post dentist celebratory ice cream.

Once you got home, you thought she’d calm down. Instead, she ran to her room, ripped a page out of her sketchbook, grabbed her favorite scented marker, and started furiously writing something.

Rafayel peeked over her shoulder. “What’s that, little guppy?”

She turned, grinning.

“It's my wishlist, daddy! For the Tooth Fairy!”

Both of you paused.

“Oh,” Rafayel said, eyes flicking to you. “A wishlist...”

“Yup!” she beamed, proudly placing the tooth and the folded paper under her pillow. “If Santa gets one, so does she.”

Hours later, once she was fast asleep, you and Rafayel carefully crept into the room and peeked at the letter.

You slowly unfolded the paper… and nearly choked.

TOOTH FAIRY WISHLIST:

1. "Reel fairy wings that glow"

2. "A baby unicorn (just small one!!)"

3. "10000 🌈🌈 stickkers"

4. "Secret note that mommy and daddy can't read"

5. "A surprize (but like a GOOD surprize)"

6. "Magecal brash dat can draw in the sky!"

Rafayel sat on the floor outside her room, staring at the note in his hands like it had personally cursed him.

“She thinks the Tooth Fairy is a celestial sorcerer,” he whispered. “Love, We’re doomed.”

You rubbed your temples. “We should’ve just told her the truth.”

“She had sparkles in her eyes,” Rafayel hissed back. “We can't.”

So now you were both on your phones, half frantically scrolling for glow in the dark fairy wings, sky projector pens, and trying to figure out how to make a “secret note” that only she could read.

You glanced at your husband, Rafayel.

“We created a high maintenance daughter.”

Rafayel sighed. “We did. And she deserves every bit of magic we can fake.”

And so the Tooth Fairy Operation began.

CALEB —

Your daughter’s first wobbly tooth had been hanging on for days, one of her front ones, giving her that adorable crooked grin. You and Caleb had finally agreed that it was now the time to visit the dentist to help it along. Nothing scary, just a little milestone.

Caleb was already waiting on the couch, car keys in hand, while you finished dressing her. The moment her shoes were on, she tore out of the room with bright eyes and bouncing steps.

“Daddy! I'm turning into a big girl now!” she shouted excitedly, arms thrown up like she’d just won something huge.

Caleb let out a warm laugh, catching her before she could leap into his lap. “You’re growing too fast, sweetie” he murmured with a soft smile, gently pinching her cheeks. “Can you slow down just a little for me?”

She giggled and hugged him tight, filled with that proud, bubbly energy only kids have.

But as you finally opened the front door to head out, she ran a few steps ahead, too excited to wait. Her little foot caught on the step.

“Sweetheart—!” you both called, but too late.

She tripped, hitting her knees on the concrete with a small thud. She didn’t wail right away—just blinked, confused, and then the tears welled up fast.

“Ow—!” she whimpered, eyes wide and lip trembling. “It hurts—!”

Caleb knelt beside her instantly, scooping her into his arms as you gently checked her for scrapes. That’s when you noticed: her tooth was gone.

It had popped right out from the fall, a tiny drop of red left on her lip.

You gave Caleb a quick look. She hadn't noticed.

Without a word, he subtly picked up the tooth from the ground and slipped it into his pocket. You took out a tissue and gently dabbed at her mouth, doing your best to block her view.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. Just a little magic accident,” you said, kissing her temple.

“Did I bleed?” she asked, voice small, eyes darting between you both.

“Nope, not at all,” Caleb said smoothly, still cradling her in his arms. “You were so brave, your tooth just decided to come out on its own. You don’t even need the dentist now!”

Her teary eyes widened. “...Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Really. And you know what brave girls get?”

“Ice cream?” she sniffled, hopefully.

“Exactly,” Caleb grinned.

That night, a tiny tooth waited under her pillow, and she fell asleep whispering, “I’m a big girl now…” with a gap toothed smile and a bit of strawberry ice cream still on her chin.

SYLUS —

The day had finally come. Your daughter’s wobbly front tooth was hanging by a thread, and she was both excited and slightly nervous. You and Sylus had everything ready in the living room—tissues, some ice cubes in a bowl, and her favorite chocolate ice cream waiting in the freezer as a post tooth reward.

You were lounging on the couch, ready to play the role of support, while Sylus headed down the hallway to fetch her from her room.

He opened the door and immediately froze.

There she was, kneeling on the floor, practically manhandling poor Mephisto, who looked every bit like a hostage to a very confusing situation.

“Mephie, this one!” she declared proudly, prying her mouth open and pointing to her wobbly tooth while gently, maybe not so gently, pulling his head closer.

She was shaking him a little, like she was trying to convince him to do dentistry.

Sylus’s eyes widened. “Wait—wait, no, sweethe—”

But it was too late.

With one more tug, she forced Mephisto’s beak to accidentally pull just right—and pop! The tooth flew.

Mephisto yelped and flew off towards the top shelf to reclaim his dignity.

Your daughter blinked, then slowly turned to Sylus, mouth slightly agape, blood at the corner of her lips, before breaking into the biggest, gappiest grin.

“Daddy, I did it!” she beamed. “I’m a genius!”

Sylus let out a deep breath, half in relief, half in exasperation. “You almost gave Mephisto a heart attack, sweetheart..” he muttered, scooping her up. “You're lucky he didn’t call in for backup.”

She just giggled, utterly unfazed. “Do I still get ice cream?”

You had peeked into the room by then, having heard the commotion, and saw Sylus walking out with your proud little gremlin in his arms and a very grumpy Mephisto flapping behind them like an offended shadow.

“Only if you promise no more bird dentistry,” you said, ruffling her hair.

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine... maybe next time I’ll ask big bros luke and kieran!”

Both you and Sylus exchanged a look that said absolutely not—but for now, it was ice cream time.

And that night, one tiny tooth sat under her pillow, and one very traumatized bird refused to come down from the shelf.

ZAYNE —

Your daughter had made it very clear—she absolutely hated going to the dentist. Even the mention of it had her hiding behind curtains or burying her face into your shirt like the dentist was some kind of monster under the bed.

So when one of her front teeth started wobbling like it was ready to pack up and leave on its own, Zayne sighed and gently said, “Alright, kiddo. No dentist. Daddy will help, okay?”

You handed over tissues and moral support while Zayne knelt in front of her, patient and gentle. The tooth was barely hanging on, it just needed a little nudge.

“Alright, sweetheart, open up,” he said softly.

She obediently opened her mouth, and then immediately shut it the moment Zayne reached for the tooth.

This happened three times.

“Sweetie,” you said, trying not to laugh as she pressed her lips tightly together. “You want it out, remember?”

“I know..” she mumbled. “But it’s scary when it’s right there…”

Zayne chuckled and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Okay, okay. Let’s try this another way.”

He held her tiny shoulders gently and said, “I’ll count to three, alright? We’ll pull it on three. Easy.”

She nodded, eyes wide, lips parted just a bit this time.

“One…”

“Two—”

Pop!

“Wha—?!”

Before she could even flinch, the tooth was already in Zayne’s hand.

She blinked. “Daddy, You said on three!”

You bit back a laugh as your daughter stared at him, offended for a solid five seconds before bursting into a soft giggles.

“Can I see the hole?” she asked, already sticking her tongue in the gap.

Zayne gently wiped the tiny bit of blood from her mouth and nodded. “You look like a fierce little shark now.”

She beamed. “Does this mean I get two coins from the tooth fairy...? Because I got tricked by daddy!”

Zayne raised a brow. “Tricked? That was strategy, little lady.”

She stuck her tongue out, still smiling—and already asking for ice cream five minutes later.

XAVIER —

You and Xavier's four year old son had been avoiding food like it was his mortal enemy—all thanks to one stubborn wobbly tooth. Every meal turned into a negotiation.

“It moves when I chew, Mommy… I don’t like it,” he would say, looking betrayed by even the softest slice of bread.

You and Xavier had tried everything: gentle wiggling, funny pep talks, and reassuring him that the tooth would fall out soon. Still, he refused to eat properly, poking at his food with dramatic sighs.

Hoping to lift his spirits and maybe tempt his appetite, you and Xavier surprised him with a home hotpot dinner. You set everything up together, steaming broth, dumplings, noodles, and dipping sauces, all cozy and warm.

Xavier ruffled your son’s hair as he eyed the food with wary suspicion.

“It’s okay, little star,” Xavier said reassuringly. “Your tooth won’t come out yet. Dumplings are soft, remember?”

You nodded. “Promise, nothing’s gonna fall off tonight.”

That seemed to win him over. He climbed onto his chair, determined to enjoy the feast.

One dumpling.

Two dumplings.

Three.

And on the fourth dumpling, he froze mid chew.

His chewing slowed. His eyes widened. Then he opened his mouth, pointed dramatically, and let out a soft, muffled,

“M-mommy...m-my tooth—”

A tiny plop hit his napkin.

His mouth hung open as you both leaned closer and saw the tiny front tooth, finally out. A little spot of pink lingered on his gums.

You gently scooped it up as Xavier reached for the tissues, already crouching beside your son. “Easy, buddy. Just a little bit of blood—it’s totally okay.”

“I didn’t finish my dumpling,” he mumbled, lower lip trembling a bit. The excitement had fizzled out and now he just looked... done.

You dabbed his gums carefully while Xavier helped him sip some cool water, whispering soothing words.

Next thing you knew, your little guy, still sniffling a little, was curled in Xavier’s lap on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, while you fed him tiny spoonfuls of soft tofu and noodles like he was a sulky little prince.

“Open up, sweetie,” you cooed, offering another bite.

He pouted, but opened his mouth anyway.

“Such a drama king,” Xavier muttered affectionately, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And when he finally smiled, gap toothed and still a bit pouty, you and Xavier couldn’t help but laugh, already imagining how you’d tell this story when he was older.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

I don't know if you possibly have any advice/encouragement for this but...I feel like I'm only any good at fanfiction/character studies, and absolutely garbage at plot. I'm an extensive outliner and I've read all the how-to books, but it just doesn't come to me. Antagonists, motivation, pinch points, magic systems...I struggle so much with anything that isn't character interactions and dialogue, but I want so badly to make well-structured, plot-heavy original fiction.

Help?

Right, I'm going to break the emergency glass of all writing advice and tell it to you frank:

If you can't figure out how to plot, steal.

Let's say you really like Sherlock Holmes and really want to write a Sherlock Holmes story, but you think no one will want a story where Sherlock Holmes was a modern doctor (House), or a superhero (multiple takes on Batman), or as a sci-fi/fantasy augmented woman reliant on her assistant (Robert Jackson Bennet's The Tainted Cup), etc etc. What I'm saying is that this is not only common, but an acceptable form of writing. It's not about boiling a character down to tropes and going with that - it's about taking what you like from fiction and making it your own.

The second question is how. I'm not telling you to rewrite The Hunger Games and set it in space (partly because arguably that already exists), but what I do recommend is:

Take your favorite media and break down why you like it. If you're writing a novel, I recommend sticking to novels, but there's no harm in taking a look at your favorite movies or comics either. What appeals the most to you about the plot? Which parts of your favorite media hit the hardest? Do you gravitate toward space operas or heists? Can you connect some consistent themes or character moments they share?

Pick your top favorite and break down the plot in an outline. The Save the Cat Beat sheet works really well for this (click here for examples of how to use it!), but if you prefer a different method or have your own, use that. Try to nail down as much of the plot into an outline view that you can. Note the big moments (the Inciting Event, the Middle, the Climax, etc) as much as you can, as well as when they happen.

Boil that specific outline down to a generic outline that could apply to any story. Here I want you to strip out the identifying information until you have an outline that follows the plot of your favorite movie without directly referencing it. Here's an example:

The Hunger Games Inciting Event: Katniss Everdeen volunteers to take her sister's place in a death game. Generic Summary: Main character takes a loved one's place in a nearly unsurvivable situation.

Most importantly, I do want you to do this for the entire piece of media. Not because I want you to write a Hunger Games rip-off, but because I want you to distill down what really appeals to you about this story in a format where you can see how the plot comes together. If you have the time, I recommend doing this to a few different favorite stories, just so you can build your library of plot points and how to connect them.

Second step, and this is the hard part, take those outlined plot points and try to put your characters in them. You don't have to follow one outline - if you have a couple, mix and match to see what fits together. If this still feels too hard to do with your original characters, try fanfiction! Fanfiction can really help you shake off the fear of being too derivative and allows you to experiment.

Now, even if you end up with a draft that reads like "The Hunger Games in 18th century France and Also There's Dragons For Some Reason," do not panic! The first draft is your private little experiment to get a working plot. If you do have a working plot, you now are in a way better position then you were before. Take a break from your book (I mean it, this step is important), and when you come back, look at it from a distance.

What parts of it do you like? Would it flow better if you plucked a subplot from another media you like and tried it out? Maybe you've realized you want a heist instead of a death game, but still want to keep the dragons. The first draft does not have to resemble the second, or even the third. But you will have a plot to build upon and rework, and the next time you take a crack at plotting, you will feel more confident. Even if you don't, feel free to use this format again to rework a concept you really like into something you feel is your own.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

An Analysis of the The UK Wizarding World Population

How Many Wizards Are There, Really?

Okay, so this started because I just needed to get this figured out. The numbers in the Wizarding World have always felt a little… off. So I decided to sit down and really work it out using the books, real-world stats, and some basic demographic logic to see what kind of population could actually support the magical society we see in the series.

I've done my best to be as thorough as possible, but of course, there are probably things I missed, details I overlooked, or assumptions that could be challenged. This isn’t meant to be a definitive answer, just a grounded, numbers-based attempt to reconcile the world we see in the books with what it would actually take to make that world function. Think of it less like a census and more like a curiosity-driven thought experiment. One that, once you start… you kind of can’t stop thinking about.

Okay, so how do we start? Well, we’re told several useful things in canon:

There are 7 years at Hogwarts.

There are 4 houses.

Each student is sorted into a house in their first year.

Using the books as a reference, we can start to gather some information to help us get a baseline for the population. Throughout all the novels, Harry names the following Gryffindors in his year:

Ron Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Dean Thomas

Seamus Finnigan

Hermione Granger

Parvati Patil

Lavender Brown

If there had been anyone else in his year, I am making the assumption that they would have been mentioned. This means there were a total of 8 Gryffindors that year. However, in several scenes throughout the books, we do see joint house classes and various comments are made that allow us to make assumptions about other houses.

For example, in first year flying lessons, it is said that when Harry arrived, there were "twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground". Thus, there were 12 Slytherins with the 8 Gryffindors. This would give an average of 10 students per house per year during Harry's time. In total, that's approximately 40 students per year, meaning a total of 280 students in the school across the 7 years. This also implies that there are only approximately 40 magical children are born per year in the UK.

Next we can apply a simplified demographic model used to estimate how many people are alive in a population at any given time if the population is stable:

Population size = Annual birth rate × Average lifespan

We know wizards live longer than muggles, so lets assume a average life span of 120.

4,800 = 40 × 120

Now, if you're like me, you're looking at this total thinking "that is a tiny number of wizarding folk". So, I'd like to point out a few factors that we should consider:

Birth rates during war

Society and the economy

1. War-time Birth Rates

First, let's start with war-time birth rates. Looking at a real-world example, "by 1914, the birthrate was around 2.88 children per woman, but by 1918 this had collapsed by almost 50%".

Students who arrived at Hogwarts in 1991 (Harry's year) must have been conceived during the year of 1979. Importantly, the First Wizarding War lasted from 1970 to 1981, and thus we can conclude that wizarding births would presumably have also significantly decreased during this period of time.

So, assuming twice the number of magical births per year, that would give us:

9,600 = 80 × 120

Double our original value, but once you step back and consider the infrastructure, complexity, and institutions that we’re shown in the books, it still seems tiny.

With this in mind, I will shift my focus from population biology to sociological and economic modeling.

What do we actually see in wizarding society? Even filtered through the narrow, teen-focused lens of Harry’s POV, the wizarding world contains infrastructure, complexity, and economic specialization that a population of just 4,000 could never realistically support.

2. Society and the Economy

Hogwarts

A fully staffed residential boarding school with:

Multiple subject specialists

Caretakers, groundskeepers, nurses, kitchen staff

Expensive magical architecture, security, and upkeep

Referred to as the only wizarding school in the UK

Revered internationally (seen as elite)

If we assume the oft-cited (if narratively inconsistent) “1,000 students at Hogwarts” figure from J.K. Rowling’s 2000 Scholastic chat is correct at peak capacity, then: 1,000 students ÷ 7 years = ~140 students per year Now apply the lifespan-based model: 14,000 = 140 × 100

Even this is conservative in my opinion, but it's better than our original figure! So let's continue...

2. St. Mungo’s Hospital

A multi-ward medical institution

Staffed with Healers, assistants, and administration

Serves everything from spell damage to long-term care

Using a conservative UK hospital ratio, 1 bed hospital bed per 100 people gives us 30,000 magical people served.

3. Ministry of Magic

The Ministry includes:

At least 7 named departments

Subdivisions like Aurors

Full-time court officials (Wizengamot), clerks, obliviators, diplomats, and more

In the real-world, the UK government employs (500,000 / 67,000,000) × 100 = ~0.7% of the population.

Even if the Ministry is bloated (as governments often are) and employs 1,000 people, then 1,000 / 0.007 = ~140,000 magical citizens.

Now, if these figures aren't enough for your consideration, I have a few more...

4. Azkaban

Azkaban is a high-security, long-term prison used to hold:

Violent criminals

Political prisoners

Entire cells full of Death Eaters

In real life, most countries don’t operate entire island prisons unless they have substantial incarceration numbers. For comparison, Alcatraz housed ~250–300 inmates and still required a significant support system.

Even if only 1% of magical adults ever serve prison time, that implies a population large enough to make Azkaban worth running, once again suggesting a base of at least tens of thousands, not a few thousand.

5. Magical Economy

In the novels, we see:

Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade packed with specialty shops (wandmakers, potion ingredients, magical pets, etc.)

Flourish & Blotts hosts author signings

The Daily Prophet is a fully operational national newspaper

Magical public transportation (Knight Bus, Floo Network)

Owl delivery services

An economy with this degree of specialization requires thousands of consumers and enough income diversity to support luxury, artisan, and utility goods.

And it's not just about who's buying the goods, but who is making, sourcing, or importing them. For example, consider Madam Malkin’s Robes. Even if we assume that much of the tailoring and enchanting is done in-house, the materials must come from somewhere. Who harvests the acromantula silk? Who spins it? Who processes the dragonhide for protective gloves or boots? Even something as seemingly simple as standard Hogwarts robes likely requires inputs from weavers, dyers, and delivery couriers. And that's just one shop. Now multiply that by the dozens of boutiques in Diagon Alley, the merchants in Hogsmeade, and the countless magical goods required to support the average household, hospital, school, and Ministry office.

6. Decentralized Communities and Regional Infrastructure

So far, this entire model assumes that magical Britain is highly centralized, with everything flowing through Diagon Alley and London, but that assumption doesn’t hold up to scrutiny and and recent additions to the canon support a more distributed magical landscape. In Hogwarts Legacy, we’re introduced to several small magical hamlets throughout the Scottish Highlands, indicating that rural magical communities do exist and have their own localized economies. This aligns more with how real-world populations are distributed.

It also raises a practical question: are magical families in Wales or Scotland or Ireland really expected to travel to London just to purchase school supplies when they have their own major cities? The idea that there’s a single alleyway to serve the entire magical population of the British Isles is logistically absurd. Even if Diagon Alley is the largest and most famous commercial center, it cannot be the only one. There must be regional tailors, wandmakers, apothecaries, and general suppliers, especially for families that aren’t wealthy or well-connected.

This suggests the existence of dozens of small to mid-sized magical communities, each requiring their own economic base, service providers, and integration into the broader magical world. And that, in turn, implies a significantly larger national population to justify and sustain this decentralized infrastructure.

All in all, this implies a significant consumer base. However, an important consideration is that unlike Muggles, wizards can:

Automate household chores (e.g., cleaning, cooking)

Teleport instantly (no need for extensive infrastructure)

Heal injuries and illnesses faster

Use magic to farm, manufacture, and repair with fewer people

Reduce logistics and transportation burdens

Thus, while a Muggle society might need 250,000–300,000 people to support, let's assume a magical society could feasibly do it with half the number of people.

3. A Final Number

Taking the narrative, demographic, economic, and institutional factors together, a reasonable, grounded estimate for the population of the British and Irish wizarding world would fall between 100,000 and 150,000 witches and wizards.

While wizards benefit from magical efficiencies that reduce their reliance on large labor forces (e.g., using magic for transportation, food preparation, and household tasks), the complexity of their institutions still demands a much larger population than the original 4,000 estimate suggested by Hogwarts class sizes alone. Even assuming magical productivity multiplies output, the sheer diversity and durability of magical Britain’s institutions point to a minimum six-figure population.

At 100,000 individuals out of roughly 67 million total in the UK, that makes magical folk ~0.15% or roughly 1 in every 667. In a city the size of Manchester with 570,000 people, about 850 would be magical.

Now, in 2022, the UK had ~5.3 million people aged 11–17 out of ~67 million, giving us ~7.9%. If the total magical population is estimated at 100,000, then the number of Hogwarts aged children would be 100,000 × 0.079 = 7,900.

At this point, however, we begin to see the unavoidable tension between narrative design and realistic population modeling, as we certainly never see anything close to 8,000 students at Hogwarts in canon material. Class sizes are small. Dormitories are intimate. Teachers give individualized attention. There are no massive dining queues. J.K. Rowling herself has contradicted the books in interviews. So what do we do with this contradiction?

8. A Top-Heavy Age Pyramid

We know that Wizards live significantly longer than Muggles. Dumbledore was over 115 at his death. If wizards live ~120 years on average, then this would impact the age structure of the wizarding world. It’s possible the population is top-heavy, with a disproportionately large number of elderly witches and wizards and fewer magical children born each year.

This structure isn’t unprecedented. In the real world, countries like Japan face a similar demographic challenge. As of 2022, 29% of Japan’s population was aged 65 or older, and the national fertility rate was just 1.26 children per woman, far below the replacement level of 2.1.

Applying the same logic to the wizarding world, it’s reasonable to assume that even with a total population of around 100,000 witches and wizards, only a small fraction, perhaps just 3%, would fall within the 11 to 17 age range. That would yield approximately 3,000 school-aged children, translating to roughly 400 students per year at Hogwarts, or about 100 students per house per year.

While numbers like 400 students per year or 3,000 total may sound large compared to what we see in the books, it's important to remember we're talking about a massive, enchanted castle. Hogwarts is likely capable of adjusting itself to fit the needs of its population. We’ve seen magical spaces, like tents and suitcases, that are significantly larger on the inside than they appear from the outside, and it stands to reason that Hogwarts’ dormitories, classrooms, and common rooms function in much the same way. So even if the student body expands or contracts from year to year, the school is almost certainly built and enchanted to scale accordingly.

9. Final Thoughts

So, what does all of this actually mean?

Well, it means the Wizarding World is bigger than we’re led to believe. Not just in terms of geography or magic, but in terms of sheer numbers. If we take the books at face value, we get tiny class sizes and a population that feels more like a close-knit village. But when you start looking at the complexity of the institutions, the economy, the Ministry, the infrastructure... it just doesn’t add up unless the population is much, much larger.

That doesn’t mean the books are wrong, they just show us one very specific lens: the extraordinary life of a teenager who isn’t particularly concerned with census figures or economic modeling. But if you zoom out and think about what it would really take to make that world function? In my opinion, you end up somewhere around 100,000 to 150,000 witches and wizards, maybe more.

Anyway, I had to work it out. And now maybe you don’t have to.

Or maybe you will. Because once you start thinking about this stuff… you kind of can’t stop.

[kateis-cakeis]

You know, without music, my writing would be nothing.

I rely on music for so much of my creativity. The moods I write in and feel. Epic music does a lot of good, but I'm a romance writer at the end of the day, so epic battle music isn't always the right vibe :P

I've been listening to the Frozen Planet II soundtrack lately and honestly that really brings a lot of emotions I had been missing into the mix.

And that's important, because it has to be the right mood for the right scene.

I just love music, and I love how creative it makes me :)

[twinksintrees]

thank you for showing me a version of masculinity i’ve never seen before. thank you for showing me it’s possible to be a man, and masculine, and sometimes feminine, and affectionate, and emotional, and honest, and gobliny and silly. and earnest. thank you for showing me how to be a man in a way i’ve never seen. not in my real life, not like this.

[bootycallin]

ACTUALLY PLEASE DO A PART TWO?? I NEED TO KNOW WHAT I DOES TO READERS CLIT ❤️

OOH—BETTER THAN ME?

꩜ .ᐟ basically; vi made a proposal. imagine what i can do, she said. not that you could've ever even imagined, imagined, anyways.

cw: wlw. porn with slight plot this time!! not a direct continuation but sort of. vi catches u jorkin it. implied perv!vi (lol). masturbation. mutual masturbation. bsfwb? fingering. bushvi (!!). reader’s briefly described as smaller than her. scissoring. swearing. vi's a sweetie pie. begging. overstim. aftercare? v fluffy ending. not proofread.

a/n: dinner is fucking served

NSFW UTC

now, the real question is, how’d she get you so addicted?

damn, it’s not like you’ve never had sex before. quite the opposite, you have sex pretty often.

but she was different.

maybe cause she showed something you could never really do. maybe because it was one time and you’re best friends and you’re overthinking. or maybe the dick was just really good. god knows. one way or the other, you can’t stop thinking about it.

you don’t know it, but vi can’t either. so when she hears you whimpering from your room, she can’t fucking help herself.

what kind of fucking black magic does she have? there’s no way your fingers are just short. you’re trying, you really are—legs wide, lips spread so you can press two of your fingers inside your saturated hole. it’s not enough. you’ve been neglecting your clit, as well—because supposedly, you should be able to do it.

it’s not enough. your clit’s twitching, breath shaky, curling your fingers—not enough. thrusting them in? not enough. just briefly smacking the tip of your clit with your palm? not. enough.

you’ve been trying to avoid it, but you need her.

“fuck, vi…” and what is it they say? about speaking of the devil?

‘cause she’s right there. say her name three times to summon, or some bullshit? because you could’ve fucking sworn you were alone—as you are most times when you’re masturbating.

(well, that’s what you think. vi’s conscience is a little heavy because of that. can you blame her? she’s just a woman!)

you barely have enough time to realize it. pulling your fingers out, grabbing the nearest blanket there was to cover your body as if she hadn’t already seen enough of it to know exactly what you look like. shit.

“vi—“ again. broken record, much?

“‘s fine,” she mentally scolds herself for how her voice sounds. shaky, unprepared, even—she’s been behind that door for a hot second and she’s already aching. she can’t deny it, damn it, she needs you. now.

“can’t…?”

“no.”

whether that’s you asking her to stop or confirming her thoughts, god knows. she does, too, apparently, as she hums slightly. there’s a smirk on her face, but she’s just as needy, just as nervous as you. fuck, she needs you so bad.

and at the opportunity, she’s rushing into bed with you, lips crashing against yours. she’s missed this so much. the feeling of your lips against hers—she really could get used to this. like, really get used to it. dare she say, she wants it. she grasps at the covers you used to shield your body, pulling them down so she can see your bare skin. she’s been imagining this for so long.

her teeth nip at your bottom lip, looking up at you to find your half-lidded eyes that widen when she spreads your legs open, settling comfortably between them.

“this okay..?”

“yes.”

what kind of question even was that? you knew damn well she could see how you were practically buzzing at the idea of having sex with her again. is this normal? yeah, no. but it’s happening and you’re definitely not thinking twice about it.

you stop her midway through kissing down your neck, hands softly grasping at her hair, making her gasp. your eyes are flitting down to her lips, but most importantly, the damned tank top. not that it didn’t look good on her.

just that it would look better off.

“vi-“ there’s barely enough time for you to even speak, as you grab at her shoulder straps and pull, leading her to nearly rip the shirt off altogether.

and there she is. between your legs, bare in all her glory. damn, you knew she was muscular, but fuck…

she can practically feel you eye-fucking her. trailing up and down, on her sculpted and. you could swear they used to make greek statues based off of her. oh, and when your eyes catch that little bit of red poking out from the hem of her boxers—

“y’alright?”

“yeah…” you mumbled, dreamily. your hands reach for her so you can run your hands over her body, over the mark of her collarbones, the curve of her breasts, the dips of her abs. fuuuck. you can barely hear how vi gasps, her eyes laser-focused on the way your smaller hands run over her skin. she’s been dreaming of this.

“baby,” she whispers, breath shaky. her own hands find yours, guiding one down to run down her body, fingers briefly making contact with the hairs of her happy trail. that’s enough to drive her insane.

she let’s go of your hand to grab at the hem of her shorts, nearly ripping her goddamn boxers off. it’s the first time you’ve really, really seen vi’s body. her pussy’s fucking throbbing just by the way you look at her. damn.

there’s really no words not to be said. you don’t want to talk. you want her, and that’s it. you grab at her shoulders, making her gasp at the sudden eagerness. your lips crash against hers, she nips at your bottom lip. it’s messy. eager and messy and so fucking hot to both of you. your tongue meets hers, spit mingling and all—

she can’t take it.

she pulls away, making you whine and in turn making her smirk. cute.

(she’s acting like she’s not just as giddy. if not more. if you were to press your palm against her chest, you’d probably be a little concerned she’d have a heart attack. you’re just so pretty).

her hands run down your body, over the length of your thighs, spreading them open carefully. she can see how your eyes narrow a little at the stretch, but fall half lidded again when she ends up resting your legs atop of hers. she’s now sitting comfortably between your legs, your thighs sitting above her muscular ones.

“you want me to help you again, baby?” fuck, if that doesn’t make your face burn. she knows damn well what you want. if she didn’t, you wouldn’t be naked in front of each other like this.

“please…” even you are surprised at how whiny your voice sounds. you’re just frustrated. again.

“i-i can’t—“

“‘s fine.” she leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head, something almost a little too heartwarming for the ‘best friends’ situation you two had. not that you were complaining. her lips were soft. vi was soft. for someone like her, you’d think she’s a little more… well, jagged. but, nope.

she’s soft through and through. principally when it comes to you.

her lips trail down your forehead to your nose, then to her cheeks, one of her hands—namely her right one—following the same pace, except down your body. over your belly, down to your lower navel, down until…

she swallows the moan you let out when her fingers just barely brush over your clit. she can’t help wondering if you’re really that sensitive or she just has the power to do that to you—which would definitely be an ego boost. gods, she hopes that’s what it is. you whine when she starts drawing slow little circles over your hood, your thighs tensing on instinct, breath catching.

“you want me to help you, yeah?” she asked, trailing her fingers further below—not before briefly smacking the nub of your clit with her middle fingers, an almost embarrassingly large gush of pre leaving your already sopping pussy. her mouth’s watering just thinking of it.

“violet,” not the usual vi. you sounded like you were trying to sound demeaning, but it really just came out as whiny. vi raised an eyebrow like you had insulted her.

but she herself was way too needy to give a damn. even if you did. her hand trailed down, fingers parting your lips and eyes laser-focused on your wet cunt. her index briefly prods at your hole, ripping an audible whimper from you which she just loves. but she doesn’t slip her finger in yet—not like she couldn’t. you’re wet enough that it would be like butter.

“wha…?”

“i just,” she looks up at you, free hand rubbing your thigh, “just had a thought.”

before explaining, she grabs one your hand, pulling it down so it hovered right over your pussy the same way it was when she first walked in the room.

“just…” her breath was slightly heavy, as she cupped the back of your hand. she spread her fingers so they matched yours, and you could only watch as she moved your finger to prod at your hole, tip just barely sliding in.

there’s not a lot of resistance. after all, you had already been doing it before she even got to this point. she’s watching your reaction carefully to see if there’s any discomfort, looking like it’s the most attention she’s ever given something. Her eyes are surprisingly wide. not scared. rather, it’s almost puppy eyes—she just needs to see it. needs to see you let go. needs to see you break again. needs to see you whine and scream her name again, like it’s the one word you know.

her hand guided your movements, one finger pushing your knuckle so your finger moved in and out, not a lot of movement, but enough to feel it. you let out a few pleasured sighs and slightly whimpers, but not compared to the whines and screams she managed to rip from you that time. both of them were good, though—she could deal with it. she was patient. unfortunately, you were not.

“i don’t feel it.”

“that’s fine,” she muttered, continuing to hide your movements. she watched your face, your body as it squirmed slightly. not necessarily from any great reaction, but rather because you just needed more. and because she was here. watching. she could watch you masturbate for hours. not that she hasn’t—well, imagine it… she’s overthinking. either way, it’s fine if you don’t feel it. that’s what she’s there for, isn’t it?

“do this.” she takes your hand away from yours for a second to show you how, finger doing the usual come-hither motion. you tilted your head back, a groan escaping from the back of your throat. obviously, you didn't take that all too seriously.

“it doesn’t work,” you’ve tried it already. never really did anything for you. you weren’t lying when you said you only did manage to cum when you played with your clit… well, not until vi, but that’s besides the point.

“trust me,” she mutters, staring at you, her gaze subtly speaking: you should. you know what she can do, don’t you? if there’s anyone you should be trusting, it’s probably her.you pouted and whined a little more, just to show her you didn’t like that whole idea. if you kept doing that, she might just have to wreck you—well, not that she wasn’t going to in the first place; she’s been holding back from jumping your bones since that last time.

a second of silence, and you end up doing as asked. it really makes no difference for you. people tried to make it sound better than it really was. you guess, because it really just didn’t work like that for you. never had that pornographic sensitivity to immediately squirt whenever you tried to reach your g spot, you don’t think you’ve ever even found it yourself.

it does feel a little different, but you’re guessing it’s just because vi is right there. between your legs. watching. you don’t know why she makes you feel like this. every little touch. it’s you’re a sleeper agent and she’s your goddamn activation. one little sexual touch or comment, and you already wanna fuck.

she has to hold back a groan when you do as she says. “yeah. like that,” she murmured, voice low and dangerous, “good girl…”

vi’s not even thinking when she says that. her brain isn’t really working, honestly. she’s way too preoccupied with watching as your face twists, the blood that rushes up your cheeks, flushing it a pretty pink she just wants to kiss so bad. her words had an obvious effect.

she shifts up slightly and you can only watch as her other hand, previously on your thigh, moves up to your lower belly, pressing down with the pads of her fingers right over your bladder.

you immediately stop when she does that. after all, it was just… a weird sensation. that same one from last time, but it still caught you off guard. a curse leaves from between your lips in a hiss, teeth catching your bottom lip briefly.

“‘s fine.” she reassured. “just do it.”

if she kept using that honeyed voice, you’d probably do anything she told you to. her free hand slides down to move another digit of yours inside, “just do as i told you.”

and of fucking course you do. because who the fuck are you to disobey her? it would be embarrassing if you didn’t like it so much, but god knows you do. you move your fingers in that ‘come here’ motion, wincing and whimpering at the feeling as the pads of your fingers press against the top walls of your pussy. you can nearly feel them, pressing up against that spongy spot, vi’s hand pressing down right on top of your bladder just making that all the more real.

“yeah.” she groaned, “like that… good girl. keep going.”

vi sounded like she was trying to encourage you. you made a mess on her once, she’s not gonna freak out if you do it again. i mean, she was expecting that for a while, but of course she always has to make the first goddamn move.

“vi, i—“ vi hushed you just with a sharp little glare that told you don’t test me. if she kept looking at you like that you’re sure you would discombobulate.

and of fucking course you do it. because if she tells you to, you’re more than likely doing it. at least here. you continue moving, her eyes locked in on you. on your body, your reactions. watching your face twist slightly and the little shakes of your thighs.

“vi…”

“fuck.” she groaned, moving to press her face against the crook of her neck. she kissed at the skin, just barely biting down, canines pricking. she herself was getting impatient. her pussy was fucking aching to just feel you and she couldn’t really think straight. the only part that managed to stop her from completely letting go is that she’s focused on your own pleasure.

but when she looks down, looks at your slick covered fingers—that sweet clit she wanted to touch—she couldn’t help it.

she lowered herself, lips latching to the nub. she made a point to ignore your surprised noise, how your hips jerked away. you seemed to relax soon enough. she looked up at you, noticing your fingers had halted.

“continue.” she muttered against the hood of your clit, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin there. you whined but obeyed, fingers moving in that same motion she just showed you. it’s definitely affecting you more when she’s kissing and licking your clit.

vi’s a messy eater. she’s always been messy, but it comes down even to that. she flicks, sucks, nips, laps. likes licking up from your hole to your clit, lapping up whatever comes like a needy dog. she feels like one right now. she’s practically humping the mattress in a desperate need to get some friction while pleasuring you. it always came first in her head.

“vi, fuuuck,” you gasp. she’s still lapping up at your clit, flicking the bean with her tongue in quick movements, better than any fucking vibrator you’ve ever fucking used. you’re sensitive, bit almost hurts a little, but it’s good. hurts so good you don’t want to stop her. you find that your fingers get quicker before you can even think about it, curling up over and over again ‘til you’re soaking.

“fuck.” she pulls away before you can get your high, though. before you can ask, she’s stopping your fingers, pulling your hand away from your heat. you whined, but shut up when she switched your fingers with hers.

“ah-!” a sharp gasp comes from your throat. vi’s fingers were thicker, bigger than yours. you like to think that’s why you can’t make yourself cum, but when she starts moving, you start realizing the problem really is that you just can’t finger correctly.

“shiiiit…” you drawled out, head tilted back and everything. you’re embarrassingly wet. not that vi really cares, anyways; you should know that.

“been waiting… f’so fucking long,” she drawled out, panting, shifting so she’s upright. “so fucking long to play with this pussy.”

“vi…”

your hand reached out to grab her wrist, but it’s worthless, as her thumb manages to poke through to tap at your clit briefly. that alone sends you over the edge in probably the quickest orgasm you’ve ever had. your vision blur and you can swear you see stars.

for vi, all she can see is how you wet her fingers, little liquidy gushes spraying from you the most she curls and rams her fingers into your g-spot, until you’re practically shaking. your whining doesn’t stop until she removes her fingers, pussy clenching around nothing, hips bucking into air. it’s truly a sight for her sore eyes.

but she needs more.

she grabs your thigh, pulling it closer to her until your leg’s basically hooked over her shoulder, holding the back of your knee. you barely have enough time to process till you feel the tickle of crimson hairs, as her wetness swipes right over yours.

“shii!—“ you hiss. it’s a feeling like never before. you’ve felt her fingers, her tongue, the silicone of that strap she dicked you down with a bit ago—but not her own pussy. you didn’t even think to realize it, you’ve never really touched her there before. mostly because vi seemed to prioritize having your pleasure over her own more than anything. (she’s probably converted you by now. god, you don’t want another guy inside you ever again).

“cupcake,” her rough voice rasps, mouth hung open in a way that’s almost too needy for her pride, heavy panting making her chest heave. what else is there to say? she's been fantasizing about this shit for the longest time. finally getting to feel you like this, rubbing her cunt against yours 'til neither of you can fucking think right.

not that she is exactly thinking about anything when she starts humping against you like a bitch in heat. her head hangs, eyes squeezing shut on instinct. she's desperate, feeling the heat building up in her lower stomach quicker than before. no pillow could ever replace the wet warmth of your cunt, the slick that coats her folds, sticky and messy and so fucking good.

"fuck, fuck, fuck—" vi's really hardly hearing you, her own groans being the one thing she can hear. you cum easily. after all, she had just ripped one from you, and here she is again, taking yet another one. all she can really discern is that you're impossibly wetter, essentially just lubing her up and making her own job easier. there's a whimper that tries to escape her throat, desperate, but she forces it out as a groan, head falling and top teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

"fuck, princess..." she growled, hands a vice-grip on your thigh. "please, fuck. yeah, shit, give it to me, give it to me..."

she's like a broken record, chasing her own high, while you tried to keep from screaming, body trembling and jerking with the aftershocks of your second orgasm.

"viii!—" a pitchy whine, ripping from your throat, strained at the angle of your head tilted backwards. "'s too much! gh-- too much!"

"fuck, baby," vi groans, a deep growl that rose from her throat, "shit, i know, i know. you can take it. you can take it, right?" her voice drops even lower, as she spoke through pants. her free hand shoots up to grab your face, making you look at her. powdery blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide, face flushed, sweat dripping down her temple. she looked like an angel.

"you can take it, right? fuck, please, baby..." her voice is borderline whiny, getting pitchier the closer she gets to the edge, which is rapidly approaching. how could you say no to a face like that? she half expected you not to answer.

"yeah, vi," you pant, trying to keep your voice as stabe as possible. "keep... g-"

"shit!"

she hissed, her abdomen locking, pussy gushing right over yours, not stopping, only jackhammering her clit against yours 'til you're cumming yet again, a silent scream leaving you, chest heaving. she has to bite the skin of your knee that's hooked over your shoulder so she doesn't cry out. you can tell, though, by the vibrations that run down your skin.

vi collapsed on top of you when she was finally done, her own body trembling. she has half the mind left to kiss up your neck, arms wrapping around your waist.

you both lay in the afterglow for a few minutes, not bothering with words. just the way she holds you is good enough, more than words can speak. she eventually lifts her head, eyes meeting yours, gentle and loving like you've never seen.

"you alright?" vi asks, voice like raspy but still like sweet honey. "i didn't hurt you, right?" yeah, she might've acted like a brainless mutt back there, but she's can recognize she overstimulated you. she liked hearing your cries, sure, but she doesn't want to hurt you.

"no. of course not." you reassure her, hand reaching to cup the back of her head, then her cheek. she found herself leaning into it like a needy cat, nose nuzzling into your palm.

"you sure?" she asked yet again, pulling a genuine chuckle from you.

"yeah. i promise," you rub your thumb down the slope of her cheel, the slight bump of her cheekbone. she's always been sculpted like a greek goddamn statue. beautiful.

“mhm." she grumbled. she hated that you could get her like this. so weak, so... vulnerable. but if it was for you, she'd probably be able to handle it.

"fuck, i-" she starts, without thinking, "i love you..."

before she can panic over her words, nervously meeting your eyes, you replied, "i love you too."

and she can rest easy knowing that you love her, that she didn't fuck it up. that all this was worth something, not just a quick fuck to you. to her, it never was.

you've always been more than her best friend to her. way, way more than that. her love.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[glowettee]

✧・゜: self-discipline doesn't mean hating yourself into action :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✧

i've been thinking about this a lot lately… how did we all collectively decide that being mean to ourselves was somehow the path to getting things done? like, who started this toxic rumor that self-discipline means internal screaming and punishment? because honestly? i spent years believing that the only way to accomplish anything was through this weird self-bullying technique and it was literally the least effective approach ever.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the wake-up call ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

last semester i hit a wall with my essay project. i had been doing that thing where you stare at your laptop, call yourself lazy in your head, promise to work for 8 straight hours to "make up for it," then get overwhelmed and watch netflix instead. but one night at like 2am (why do all realizations happen at 2am??) i wondered what would happen if i just… stopped being mean to myself about it?

what if self-discipline was actually about being the most understanding friend to yourself instead of the worst drill sergeant?

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ what actually works ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

start ridiculously small, i'm talking embarrassingly tiny steps. want to write that paper? commit to just opening the document and typing a single sentence. need to clean your space? just put away three things. the magic is that once you start, continuing feels so much easier.

create environments that make things easier, not harder. i rearranged my desk so everything i need is within reach and visible. stopped trying to work in my bed (even though it's so comfy) because my brain associates it with sleep and tiktok scrolling.

acknowledge the resistance instead of fighting it. when i feel that "i don't wanna" feeling, i literally say to myself "i hear you, and it makes sense you feel that way. what's one tiny piece we could do?" talking to myself like i'm my own bestie changed everything.

use curiosity instead of judgment. instead of "why am i so lazy?" (which never helps), try "i wonder what's making this hard for me right now?" sometimes the answer surprises you. maybe you're actually just hungry or need better lighting.

build in rest BEFORE you crash. i started scheduling actual breaks before i felt desperate for them, and somehow i get more done? it's like my brain knows it's not going to be held hostage forever.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the permission slip approach ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

my favorite technique lately has been what i call "permission slip productivity" where i literally write myself little notes giving permission to:

work imperfectly (first drafts can be messy!)

take breaks without guilt

change my approach if something isn't working

celebrate small progress instead of only the end result

acknowledge when something is genuinely difficult

there's something so powerful about physically writing yourself permission. it sounds silly but it works because it interrupts that mean inner voice that's been programmed into us.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the results speak for themselves ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the wildest part? i actually get MORE done now that i've stopped the self-hate productivity method. turns out your brain works better when it's not being constantly criticized? who knew!

my essay (very big essay) got finished early. my room stays cleaner. i actually enjoy my study sessions now instead of dreading them. and most importantly, i don't feel that heavy cloud of shame following me around everywhere.

self-discipline isn't forcing yourself through misery, it's creating systems that work WITH your natural tendencies, not against them. it's about making things easier, not harder. it's about treating yourself like someone you actually care about.

and maybe the real glow-up isn't just checking things off your to-do list, but doing it without sacrificing your relationship with yourself in the process.

what about you? have you been trying to hate yourself into productivity? might be time for a gentler approach. you deserve that kindness from yourself. (and honestly? it just works better.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[alllbedo]

how to win over genshin men !

includes: xiao, lyney, albedo, venti, wanderer

xiao

sheesh. good luck with this one…

in all seriousness, he’s a tough one, but it’s still possible to make him crack iykwim

firstly and most importantly, you can’t be clingy. like at all. if he senses you getting too close too fast he’ll run off like a cat

be chill. nonchalant. whatever word you fancy. just don’t be creepy.

in all honesty, you’re going to have to go into meeting him with the goal of friendship in mind, not a relationship.

if he gets even a hint that you wish to pursue him in that aspect too early on into your meetings, he’ll get irritated and, you guessed it, run off like a cat

in short, become VERY VERY VERY good friends before you even think about crossing that line

he’s just scared okay be patient and gentle with him and he’s yours i swear

lyney

our little magician is much harder to win over than you might think!

underneath his cool and charming façade, he’s just a boy who wants the best for his siblings.

that being said, become friends with lynette or freminet before getting close to him!

don’t get me wrong, it’s not like you’d be doomed to friendship forever if you met him first, but getting along with his loved ones is a sign that he can trust you.

because he’s apart of the fatui, trust is hard to garner from him, so consider yourself lucky!

once you’re good friends with one or both of his siblings, he’ll probably make the first move

friendship-wise you idiot….

he’ll most likely come up to you one day on the streets of Fontaine with the ploy of demonstrating a new magic trick he plans to use in his next show

but secretly, he just wanted to talk to you

compliment him or act surprised, just don’t be cold or nonchalant !!!! he will get offended and lose all interest immediately!

he’s already insecure enough please don’t bruise his (fake) ego

keep in mind to compliment HIM, not just the trick. keep it playful. not too serious. just bordering on flirtatious and friendly.

he’ll grow flustered, as he’s more used to people admiring his tricks rather than him. he’ll get quiet, so you’ll need to start the next part of the conversation.

talk about what he loves most, his weak points: his siblings!! share the details of your most recent outing with freminet or lynette, and boy will he fall head over heels.

he’ll invite you to a “private magic show” after

it’s not dirty you sewer rats.

it’s most likely a big tea party with his siblings present as well. he’ll just show off card tricks the whole time. lynette will eat some crêpes and fall asleep. freminet will wander off halfway through, claiming he has to repair pers. you’ll be the only one left.

just “ooh” and “aah” until he’s done

albedo

my favorite boy.

albedo’s biggest interest (ahem, turn-on) is curiosity and mystery.

go up to dragonspine one day, seemingly in order to gather some ingredients for a recipe.

we all know what you’re really up to, though

however, as you were walking up the mountain to “accidentally” pass by albedo’s lab, a huge avalanche caused heaps of snow to fall upon you

it’s your lucky day, though, because albedo was strolling by at that very second! how convenient i know right

that also means he saw you get absolutely bodied by snow though so …

anyway, he obviously comes to your rescue, grabbing onto your outstretched hand and yanking you up from the soft snow.

he’ll firstly ask if you’re alright, and then proceed to bombard you with questions about why you were up there in the first place.

okay now here’s the part where you have to lock in

you need to be soooo mysterious. answer with something so blatantly false that even he sees through it. better yet, add hesitation to your replies.

this will interest him, but also make him a little suspicious, so now you have to lay off the mystery.

say you lost your way and mention being cold so that he’ll offer to lead you up to his lab.

once you’re there, it’s your turn to ask questions, be the curious one.

you’re gonna have to glaze alchemy sooo damn hard bro. idk pretend like you’re interested if you’re not.

he tends to grow bored when the conversation isn’t a topic that interests him (canon), so beginning a discussion in a topic he loves is the best way to grow closer to him.

after your most likely lengthy discussion over alchemy, he’ll walk you back down the mountain, pointing out different landmarks for the “next time you’re up here” 😏

so he’s implying that you’ll come back huhhh … ;)))

bro he wants you so bad, trust !!!

venti

bard boy time!

out of all of these character’s, he’s the easiest to win over.

start simple by attending his poetry and prose read-alouds next to the big statue in mondstadt. other people will be there, so you’ll need to make yourself stand out by standing at the front of the crowd, or smiling at him whenever he looks up to gage reactions.

he’s a god, he obviously knows all mondstadt citizens, so when he sees you, someone he doesn’t recognize, his interest is already piqued.

once his session ends, simply clap and smile. stay in your place. once the rest of the crowd wanes off, and it’s just you and him left, you want to be the one to start the conversation. show that you’re not scared to show interest in a poet’s work (even if all you’re truly interested in is the poet themself…)

compliment the poem or inquire about where his inspiration for it derived from. he loves talking about poetry, so he’ll be happy to share.

being forward is where your best chance with him lies. people seem to forget that he’s been voted the best bard in mondstadt for several years now… he’s a popular guy! he has a lot of people swarming him each day, asking for poetry advice, complimenting him, asking for a duet, etc.

so you need to be BOLD. put on them big girl/boy pants and make your interest in HIM as a person clear.

it’s best not to compliment his appearance too much, since, y’know it’s not really his

but don’t focus on poetry too much either.

be flirtatious. once you start talking about poetry, he’ll turn the question back to you. he’ll ask about your knowledge and/or experience with the art.

if you write poetry, good for you, because you’ve got him hooked.

here’s your opening: tell him what topics you like to write poems about (hint: mention the word “love”)

he’ll agree, saying that he writes poems about love as well.

next, you should ask him something along the lines of “does that mean you have a muse?” or some variation. ask him if he has a significant other.

now he’ll realize that your interest in him is different from the rest of mondstadt’s citizens’, and reply that he doesn’t.

if he’s really hooked, he’ll return the question, and once you say no, he’ll invite you to hang out with him more privately another day to discuss poetry.

propose going to angel’s share and you’ll have yourself a husband already

wanderer

this one’s also a tough one.

he’s not quite as standoffish as xiao is, but he’s close to it

he’s kinda just mean …

the only way to impress him is by one-upping him in anything, whether it be in witty comebacks, an assignment in the akedemiya, or in a sparring match.

show him that you’re not a burden, that you can hold your own.

if there’s one thing he hates in a romantic partner, it’s dependency.

i see a lot of people depict wanderer as a sucker for a clingy s/o, but i can’t help but think that he’d absolutely hate that.

he’s been tied down all his life, why would he want the one person who sets his heart free to then tie it down with their mortal limbs? automatic turnoff.

prove to him that you don’t need him, but that he instead needs you.

beat him in a sparring match and he’s drooling istg

you can’t be too avoidant though. he loves the chase, but he won’t chase forever. he values his dignity too much.

it has to be a sort of mutual thing. you chase him for a bit, and he chases you.

“chasing” in this scenario is not what it usually is in others.

with wanderer, chasing is simply finding some excuse to be in your presence.

does that mean he’ll talk to you? absolutely not. in fact, most of your enemies-to-lovers-esque relationship is expressed through actions, not words.

another thing he’s a sucker for: people with a sense of humor.

holy shit. this man never laughs at anything. if you can match his dark sense of humor, he’s whipped.

poor dude hasn’t laughed in forever, tell him a twisted joke or something

[readreidsworld]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes isn’t a weapon anymore. He’s warmth, safety, and soft mornings

•••••••••••••••••••••••••��•••••••••••••••••••

Bucky Barnes had a reputation. The world saw him as the stoic soldier, the once Winter Soldier, the silent shadow of Captain America. But you knew better.

To you, Bucky was a human furnace, a walking blanket, and most importantly yours.

You woke up to the smell of coffee and the soft rustle of someone trying very hard not to make noise. When you peeked open one eye, there he was Bucky, shirtless, messy haired, and holding a tray with two mugs and a small plate of pancakes shaped vaguely like hearts.

“Happy Tuesday,” he said, beaming like it was Christmas.

You blinked. “It’s Tuesday?”

“It is. And I’m declaring it ‘Stay in Bed with You All Day’ Day.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a thing now?”

He placed the tray on the nightstand and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing. “It’s official. No missions, no calls, just this.” He pressed his nose into your hair. “Just us.”

You giggled when his scruff tickled your neck. “Did you make pancakes?”

“Heart shaped ones,” he said proudly, holding one up. “Don’t ask me how. I think I accidentally created pancake abstract art.”

You laughed, taking a bite out of it. “Masterpiece.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled. “I’m keeping that in writing.”

You curled into him, burying your face in the soft space between his neck and shoulder. His vibranium arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and his flesh hand lazily traced circles on your thigh.

“I love it when you’re soft,” you mumbled.

“I’m always soft with you,” he said, his voice husky but gentle. “You make it easy.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm against your ear, grounding and familiar. You could stay there forever—wrapped in the warmth of flannel sheets and love.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I love you more.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is this a competition now?”

He smirked. “Everything’s a competition with me.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned up and kissed him anyway slow, sweet, and full of the kind of peace he thought he’d never deserve.

But you made him believe otherwise.

Later that morning, after pancakes and a shared nap that turned into both of you wrapped around each other like lazy cats in a sunbeam, Bucky insisted on brushing your hair.

Yes brushing your hair.

You sat cross legged on the bed while he gently tugged the brush through your strands, his flesh fingers occasionally twirling a lock like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” you said, trying not to melt into a puddle at the feeling of him so lovingly focused on something so mundane.

“I know,” he replied, calm and soft, “but I want to. Your hair’s soft. And brushing it makes you purr.” “I do not purr!”

“You totally do,” he said, grinning behind you. “You go all sleepy and gooey like a kitten.”

Before you could argue, he kissed the back of your neck, just once. And just like that, all snark melted.

Later, he followed you into the kitchen while you hunted for snacks. You were still in his hoodie three sizes too big, sleeves hanging over your hands. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, watching you with literal heart eyes.

“What?” you asked, catching him staring.

He shrugged, looking all too proud of himself. “Just admiring my favorite view.”

“Which is?”

“You. In my clothes. In our kitchen. Looking like you belong here.”

You turned around and chucked a marshmallow at him, blushing furiously. He caught it mid-air with that stupid supersoldier reflex and popped it in his mouth.

Bucky grinned. “Delicious. So are you.”

“Bucky!”

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of silly little things that felt like magic building a pillow fort in the living room (because “Captain America doesn’t let me have any fun, doll”), Bucky braiding flowers into your hair (and taking like fifteen pictures of it), and the two of you slow dancing barefoot in the kitchen to old love songs on the radio.

That night, wrapped in a blanket burrito on the couch, your head on Bucky’s chest and his arms snug around you, he whispered:

“You’re my safe place.”

You looked up at him, eyes full of all the love he never thought he’d find.

“You’re mine too.”

He kissed you slow. Sweet. Safe.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, Bucky whispered against your hair, “I hope we get a thousand more days just like this.”

The room was dark now, lit only by the faint golden glow of a salt lamp on the nightstand. The bed was a sea of tangled sheets and tired limbs, and Bucky had you tucked against him like you were the most precious thing in the world.

His hand rested low on your back, slowly tracing shapes that made your eyelids heavy and your heart impossibly full.

“You awake?” you whispered, not even sure why he was breathing evenly, but not quite asleep.

“Mhm,” came the soft rumble of his voice. “Just don’t wanna move. You’re warm.”

You smiled, cheek pressed to his chest. “You always say that.”

“It’s always true,” he murmured.

You were quiet for a while, just listening to his heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Safe.

“Bucky?” you said again, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What’s your favorite thing about falling asleep with me?”

He paused. Not because he didn’t know but because he had too many answers.

Finally, he said, “Everything slows down. The world stops spinning so fast. And for once… I’m not thinking about the past, or tomorrow, or anything that hurts.”

You turned your face into his neck, and he tightened his arms around you, like he could shield you both from the world with just his embrace.

“I like your heartbeat,” you murmured. “It’s like… the safest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He kissed the top of your head, lingering. “It beats for you now. Every day.”

Your throat tightened with that familiar swell of love that only Bucky could draw out of you.

“Are we gonna be like this forever?” you asked, sleep blurring your words.

“Forever and a day,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“And after that?”

He smiled into your hair. “After that, I’ll still find you. In every life. In every universe.”

You didn’t respond sleep was already pulling you under but your fingers curled into his shirt like a promise.

Bucky stayed awake a little longer, just to memorize the feeling of you breathing against him, the weight of your love, the peace he never thought he’d deserve.

And right before he drifted off too, he whispered into the dark:

“I’ll love you in every tomorrow we get.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love love all your writings!!

I like your depictions of John Constantine.

I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.

Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.

He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.

Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)

"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.

He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.

Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.

It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.

It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.

One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.

John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.

John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.

Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.

"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"

"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."

He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.

A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.

John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.

All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.

All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.

John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"

A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.

He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.

"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"

"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.

"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shoes?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.

For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.

His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.

"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"

He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."

"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."

"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.

It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.

This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.

Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.

Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.

Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.

Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.

They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.

He wanted to be their father.

To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.

It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.

He had other priorities now.

The best part? The Justice League would never know that.

"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.

"Inside voice, darling."

"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"

Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.

"I'm sure he will, darling."

[jmliebert]

♡ little things that would make astarion fall harder for you♡

how you described his looks in great detail once you learned he couldn't see his own reflection (and while doing so, you never once sexualised him)

how you don't press when he doesn't want to talk

how your touch is warm and gentle against his marble skin

how you laugh at the silliest things sometimes

how you give him little looks when you think he isn’t watching

how you tilt your neck toward him playfully

how you ask him how the sun feels on his skin

how you crack vampire jokes

how you cherish the small things in life

how you gleefully ask him to dance with you (and how happy you look when he reluctantly agrees)

how you wink at him from time to time

how you bought him nail file when he lost his

how he realised with you, that kiss can just me a kiss; nothing more, nothing less

how you laugh at his briefs (or more importantly, the message he engraved there)

how he catches the way you gaze at the horizon with a longing for what was or what might have been, when you think no one can see you (he sees though, and understands more than he would care to admit)

how you tug your hair behind your ear (he finds it endearing)

how you have special smile that you reserve just for him and him only

how you give him matching magic rings

how you pause for a moment, allowing him to enjoy the sunset in peaceful silence

how you make it a point to greet him warmly each morning at the camp

how you screeched your nose while tasting particularly awful wine

how you stand up for him, while others are suspicious and wary of who he is

how your hand finds its way into his without you even noticing

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about astarion ♡here♡

and (!) again, thank for the request <3

[amphorographia]

Jeremy Brett is the best Sherlock Holmes bar none and if you want proof look no further than "The Resident Patient." Peak portrayal of the Holmes and Watson relationship as well as their relationships with Mrs Hudson (whose portrayal is also amazing). But the thing that really sets this episode apart for me is Brett's performance.

There is a three minute scene in which we watch Holmes quietly collect evidence from around the room. There's no music, no dialogue, and very few cuts (I think only one or two but I'm not sure) but it's done so masterfully that you can follow exactly what Holmes is thinking as he works. You can see how he's tracing the murderers' movements from the door to the bed to the chairs and, right at the end, you can see him put together in his mind why there was a screwdriver on the mantelpiece. He looks at the hook on the ceiling, the screwdriver, then immediately goes through the ashes in the fireplace to find the screws they'd left behind.

It's systematic and rational and, most importantly, comprehensible to the audience without any flashy graphics or dialogue. Yes, he does then go on to explain what he's deduced but even on a first-time watch you can follow his thinking. He looks at the lock - "oh, he's seeing if it's been forced" - then at the chairs - "oh look, there's hair caught in the wicker" - then the carpet - "cigar ends! From the butts the detective just showed us!" - then the dresser - "ash from one of the cigars" - and then the bit with the screwdriver and fireplace.

Every step is visible and Brett's so wonderfully expressive, not just with his face and eyes but his whole body gives us an insight into the mystery as Holmes is unravelling it so that when he does tell us what happened it makes sense how he could figure it out. It doesn't turn his deductions into a magic trick, they're something we get to see develop as he's working just like in the original stories. No other adaptation really manages to capture that feeling and I think that really is down to Jeremy Brett. When he's on screen you don't need anything else.

[maple-the-awesome]

Another Link Crushes On You || Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Hyrule, Time, Sky x GN Reader

Overview: You've known Link for years - Well, a version of Link. Neither of you have seen yourselves as being anything more than friends, although it seems not all Link's think the same, in fact when you're introduced to the Chain, one of the boys happens to fall pretty hard for you. I spun a wheel to let fate decide upon random pairs this time. Needless to say, I had a lot of fun with some of them😁

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. 'was beginning to think you might be dead in a ditch somewhere," You scoff, making your presence known as you lean against the door frame coolly while eyeing your long lost roommate and, more importantly, the company he’s brought home, "Hylia's sake, one of you is enough as it is. Now nine?"

Legend breathes your name in a sigh, not so much as glancing away from the chest he currently digs through, "I can always count on you for a warm welcome."

Despite the sarcasm and rolled eyes, you don't seem to actually hold any true disdain towards one another. Quite the opposite, an observant bystander would notice how the Vet's shoulders relax upon hearing your voice, and how there’s a slight curve to your lips following his snark reply. You’re someone who brings him comfort; someone the Chain can trust.

Pushing yourself from the doorframe, you give them a friendly smile and wave, “I take it you must be the other heroes Link’s told me about in his letters - Less I’m to believe he found yet another ragtag group of misfits to drag around with him…It’s nice to finally meet other people who can bear to put up with his nonsense. I’m his roommate, by the way. Sorry I wasn’t around last time you stopped by.”

"Oh, so he has two roommates then -?”

“- His actual roommate," You correct with an annoyed huff. Of course, it's only half hearted, "Ravio doesn't count since he doesn't pay rent."

"He should. He's around enough," Legend's voice is echoed by the chest.

There’s more conversation to be had as the two of you bicker, although much of it becomes muted ambience for Hyrule who takes to wandering the room in awe of his predecessor’s impressive collection. Boomerangs and gauntlets, hammers and feathers, even an entire little chest overflowing with enchanted clothing…Sure, it’s probably not practical to most, but an adventurer can dream, can’t he? Amongst all of this stuff, Hyrule can’t decide what seems more interesting. The magic rods? A library of maps? How about the unique magical instruments lining the walls?

“...You're the one who practically showed up on my doorstep just begging for a place to stay."

"Really? Because I remember finding and nursing you back to health out of the kindness of my heart after you got your ass kicked by a moblin.”

"I had everything under control -”

- Just then, while half distracted by the argument behind him, Hyrule accidentally bumps into a shelf which causes its contents to shake violently. His shoulders tense in preparation for the awful sound of shattering no doubt followed by Legend’s scolding, but before one of the potions can hit the floor, a hand skillfully dives to catch it.

“Careful there. You could really get hurt with some of the stuff in here,” You smirk, setting the potion back onto the shelf before turning around with your hands placed upon your hips, “I keep telling Bunny this place could be more spacious if he’d just sort through some of this junk, but he’s too emotionally attached to it all to ever take my advice.”

“It’s good to be prepared, I guess,” Hyrule stammers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment - At least, that must be why he feels so nervous all of a sudden. What other reason would there be? 

“There’s already been a few times when the Vet’s items have saved our tails.”

You hum, cocking your head to the side as you look the brunette over. In all likelihood, it’s probably only a split second that your eyes glance his way, yet it’s enough to make him feel see-through. Are you judging him? Do you see how knotted his hair is or how desperately his face needs to be washed? 

Golly, you’re attractive yourself - which should be a perfectly normal thing to think because yes, conventionally speaking, you could be found very attractive and for good reason. How did Legend and you meet again? Did he say it was strictly platonic or are you already spoken for? Is that even something Hyrule should be thinking right now? Why would he be thinking such a thing when all you’ve done is look straight into his soul - …And you’re gone.

Regardless of whether you noticed Hyrule’s internal panic, you end up straying from his side to start sorting through a nearby chest yourself. If he hadn’t been stunned stupid, he would’ve heard the words you speak to the group while tossing aside items, “Here’s an idea: maybe some of you guys can take a few items off Link’s hands - Split them up amongst the group to get it out of our hair -”

“- Absolutely not!” Legend’s voice comes from somewhere over the heaps of junk, not that it does anything to stop you.

Finally finding whatever it was that you were looking for, you stand up and make your way back over to Hyrule. Before he can react beyond a jolt, you take his hand and place something in it before putting your own on top. Your touch is soft in contrast to his own rough skin. Oh, and that wink you give him - It’s enough to make his face explode in red. It could be deadly for his heart to race any faster!

“...Don’t let him catch you with it,” You whisper, and that smirk you give makes him certain you know what you’re doing.

“I - um - Oh, sure…I -”

You chuckle at the flustered boy, regrettably removing your hands from his before once again leaving his side. He thinks you say something about refreshments, maybe lunch, but honestly, he’s as good as gone to this world. It takes a bit of shaking from Four and shouting from Wind to properly snap him out of it, at least enough so to finally look down at his hand. 

There’s a small blue telescope in his grasp, and it’s with that that he finally decides: you are probably, by far, the most interesting thing to be found here in Legend’s collection.

This is nice - peaceful, even, which tends to be a rare gift these days. Granted, the sun is a little too bright, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if someone walks away from this island with a nasty sunburn (most likely Twilight and Wild), but at least there’s somewhat of a gentle breeze to balance out the heat, and a quiet moment protected from any childish shenanigans is never something to turn down.

Most of the boys have been whisked off by Wind who had deemed it a crime that some of them have never seen the sea before. Those who managed to escape his attention have hopefully been keeping out of trouble on their own, basking in much needed time to themselves elsewhere on the island (after all, it does get tiresome traveling in such a large group for so long).

It matters not which deity has decided to smile down upon him today and grace him with this break. What matters is Time’s relaxed - as relaxed as a man with his background and mindset can ever be - while standing here in the sun, soaking in its glow and your perfectly tranquil company.

Ah yes, he hasn’t been left entirely alone. You’re here, too, but unlike his traveling companions, you’re closer to his age and thus seem to match his level of maturity and easygoing nature - a godsent in these trifling times, really. 

Currently, you sit upon the porch humming a pleasant little tune while combing Aryll’s hair. She sits between your legs, happily swinging her feet as you work small handfuls at a time, your movements as gentle and careful as the breeze - And that adoring look in your eyes…It could be enough to melt any heart.

Time finds himself being put at ease by the domestic sight, wordlessly admiring how effortlessly you balance caring for the young child while conversing with a stranger like himself, speaking to him softly as if a personal friend of yours:

“Link’ll probably want to stay with his grandma tonight, but the rest of you might do better staying with me. I’m sure she’ll offer, though I’d worry about the stress hosting so many traveler’s would put on her,” You explain, skillfully dividing Aryll’s hair into two blue ribbons, “I have space in my own hut, so there’d be no trouble.”

“It’s nice weather,” Time mentions, gazing up at the clear sky above, “None of us would mind sleeping under the stars -”

“- No trouble at all,” You emphasize with a breath, pretending not to hear his own point. He merely smiles, having no will to argue. They haven’t been here long, and yet this is the second argument he’s unlikely to win against you. The first was your insistence that they stay the night at all with promises to host them well. 

Once finished with her hair, Aryll thanks you in a hurry before scurrying off to find her big brother. You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but soon after, there’s a shift in your mood. Suddenly, you grow a bit sad and anxious. Time can’t help noticing the concern that briefly overtakes your expression, twisting your lips into a frown as you raise a nail to nibble on. Now that you’re truly alone, he can no longer mock ignorance to how exhausted you look, and it takes no genius to understand why that may be.

“...Rupee for your thoughts?” Really? That’s the best he can come up with in all his years of wisdom? It’s such a lame way to break the silence and an even lamer way to start a serious conversation with someone you’ve only just met.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to hold any judgment against him. Instead you sigh and look at him from over your shoulder with a sorrowful smile, “Is my stress that obvious?”

“I’ve been around long enough to know a mask when I see one,” Pushing him off the beam he’s been casually leaning against, Time invites himself to finally sit beside you on the steps. 

You don’t say anything all too quickly in response, rather you turn back to the sea with a deep inhale.

“...I worry about him,” You eventually confess through a whisper,“Every time he comes back from one of his adventures, he’s…different. Not enough so for anyone else to notice, but I do. He’s getting older - more mature, for better or for worse - and the things he’s had to witness - the battles and responsibilities that no child should ever have to bear - I can’t help seeing how it’s all starting to wear him down, slowly but surely.

“...And I know - I know this is his destiny and that he’s already saved the world once. I know he can handle himself, but he’s - he’s still just a boy! He shouldn’t have to bear the burden of the world upon his shoulders! He should be running around this island, digging for treasure in the sand and catching pigs. Instead he’s finding treasure in dangerous dungeons and fighting pigs!”

Time frowns. What can he say to comfort you? That it’s all going to get better? That maybe, one day, Wind will return home and stay for good? Even though you’re a stranger he has no obligation to, he can’t bring himself to provide an empty promise like that, because out of all the heroes here, he knows best that it would be a lie. This road they’re on - This road the Goddesses have sent each of them down - There is no end to it…Not one that he’s found, anyway…

Fortunately or unfortunately, Time doesn’t get the chance to collect his thoughts nor offer any words of encouragement (if he could’ve even decided on some). You sigh before he has a second to respond, suddenly looking back at him with an optimistic smile only half fitting of the current mood, “...You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you? Make sure he doesn’t get too ahead of himself, at least during the time that you’re all traveling together?”

"You have my word."

At a minimum, he’s able to give you that promise. The road ahead is rugged and treacherous with fearsome monsters around every corner…but Time can promise that he’ll give his all to protect those in his party. No harm shall fall upon any of the boys so long as he’s able to take a blade within his own hand. He’ll see to it that Wind returns to your arms at the end of this journey, safe and sound with plenty more stories to tell.

Your sigh releases some of the tension kept within your mind and bones, “...I wish none of you had to go through any of this…”

“At times I wish the same…” His agreement is flat and not exactly what you had hoped to hear, even if it is expected, but at least his next words seem to touch your heart more tenderly, “...But it’s not ourselves who we fight for. It’s people like you; people who deserve to live to see times of peace. The world’s safety will always be payment enough.”

As a captain in the Hylian Royal Army, Warrior’s experience doesn’t quite follow the same origin as most of his counterparts. His training had been professional and grueling, the weight upon his shoulders more direct than a mere whisper in the wind guiding him. He didn't have the luxury of stumbling upon his destiny or sneaking in to find Ganondorf when the time was right - No, he was publicly named then pushed by circumstances to meet Ganondorf on a battlefield, of all places.

It’s a life few in the Chain can exactly relate to, although some similar undertones aren’t missed upon Wild and Sky. While Wild isn’t one to draw any attention to it, perhaps not remembering enough about himself to know why any of this may or may not feel familiar, Sky’s a bit more acclimated to this systematized environment than his brothers, even if it is still rather different than home.

The army of this world clearly functions on a far larger scale than any of the knights back on Skyloft, and the air carries more tension than what could ever be found in a classroom, even on testing days. Nevertheless, Sky appreciates how much pride Warrior takes in showing off his world, not letting the stern expressions of anyone they pass dampen his excitement, after all, despite some previous experience fighting alongside inhabitants of other timelines, it’s rare that he’s given the chance to be the host himself, not a simple guest.

"There's someone I'd like you guys to meet!" The Captain announces at the same moment his eyes and smile lighten considerably. Clearly, he’s spotted a new target, one he makes a quick b-line for with the others close on his trail.

A call of your name is all it takes to capture your attention, although contrast to Warrior’s spark, you seem far less amused with your reunion.

“And where have you been?” You hiss, your narrowed eyes disapproving as they basically dare your friend - colleague, maybe? - to try excusing his sudden absence and casual reappearance. Now that’s an expression that really sends Sky back to his days at the Academy! Why, he’s only seen it about a hundred times on his instructors over the years!

"Working," Warrior must be accustomed to being on the receiving end of such a harsh glare, because he completely fails to even acknowledge it, instead swiftly changing subjects as he gestures to the heroes behind him with much fanfare, “I came here to introduce you to -”

"- Sailor!” It’s funny how quickly your expression switches, igniting like a fueled fire. Within seconds, you’re rushing right past Warrior to embrace the youngest hero of their group, “Now there’s a face I’ve missed! Long time no see. Oh, look at you! Have you gotten taller?”

Luckily, Wind seems just as happy to see you, giggling and practically hanging onto you as you rub your knuckles into his hair. With your arm still tossed over his shoulder, you raise an eyebrow towards the rest of the Chain who now feel suddenly out of place, not certain if they should also know you.

Warrior comes up to your side to explain, “Funny story, but everyone you see before you is a reincarnation of the hero’s spirit.”

“Ah! Heroes from different times?” You gasp, pressing a finger to your chin as you look them all over with serious consideration yet hardly any surprise. Maybe you’re just as used to this sort of thing as Warrior is, “...Now that you say that, some of them do seem a bit familiar…”

“You must be the Hero of Twilight Midna spoke of!” You conclude with a point towards their Rancher who jolts. Whether because of the sudden attention or the mention of a sore name, he won’t get the chance to say, “I’m guessing so anyway, based on her descriptions, although I must say, she made you sound more…-”

“- Brutish? Rugged?” Warrior’s smirk is smug yet sadly untouchable amongst the careful watch of the surrounding military.

“I was looking for a nicer word, but that is what she said, isn’t it?” You sigh with a defeated shrug before turning to the oldest of the group. You gasp once again, this time with more heart, “And you! You kinda look like -! But it couldn’t be…Is that you Sprout?

“Talk about someone getting taller! The last time I saw you, you were only yea high!” Time’s thankful that you don’t give him the same treatment as Wind, instead minding your distance while awing at the height difference between you both now, although your smile soon turns sorrowful the longer you look him over, “...Your adventures haven’t been kind to you, have they?”

“In case you haven’t already guessed, this is the historian friend I’ve mentioned before - The one who probably knows more about us than we’re to know about ourselves at this point,” Warrior finally explains to his confused friends, coming up to place his hands upon your shoulder, “Give us a favor and try not to overheat now.”

“Oh don’t be so jealous,” You shoot him an unamused glare and swat him away, however he’s saved from any more scolding when you at long last look to Sky. Based upon what little the Captain has mentioned about you up until this moment, you’re a simple Hylian with no powers beyond your strength with a sword and impressive knowledge of Hyrule’s history…So why is it that your eyes have suddenly managed to freeze him like stone?

"As for you, I recognize that shield from Skyloft's era which means...You must be the Hero of Sky!" Your expression once again lights up like a beacon as you swiftly take his hand and give it a firm shake, not seeming at all fazed by his stunned stance, "You're the Master Fi spoke of, I take it? It's an honor to meet you."

"I, uh - It's an honor to meet you, too," At least he gathers enough of his wits to stumble out some words.

"I must say, Skyloft was one of my favorite places we visited during the war. Such a peaceful island - Well, after getting past the life-or-death battles that brought us there in the first place," You say, nudging Warrior as the two of you snicker. Oddly enough, Sky feels a bit disappointed to lose your focus and even more so to see the bond Warrior and you clearly share. Why, though? Why feel so omitted from someone he’s just met?

Fortunately, the negative feelings don't sink too deep until your attention becomes solely trained on him, "There's so little that has survived in our history books about your time - a real shame, too. As the first hero, I'm sure you have some unique experience under your belt."

"I-I guess you could say that…" Sky mumbles awkwardly, shooting a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Then, suddenly feeling a bit bold, he decides to test his luck with an offer, "I could, um, tell you about them if you want?"

Your eyes widen while Warrior rolls his, "You shouldn't have suggested that -"

"- Really?! Well, I'd love to hear it!" Before he can react, you have Sky’s hands sandwiched between yours, your touch impressively soft despite your years of training and fighting or maybe he’s just imagining them that way, "Could you start with the Imprisoned? We fought it a couple of times during the war and man, was it a pain. Fi mentioned you thought it yourself several times. Tell me, how did you -"

"Aaand we lost them…" Warrior groans, face smacked against his hand as you practically drag Sky off without so much as a goodbye to the others, "We're not going to get a word in ourselves for a while now. Let’s just go see if we can’t get an audience with the Queen and come back for them later.”

[evenyvn]

All You ; part 03

Idol!San x SingleMom!Reader

Summary : Little Hana noticed the spark between the two adults, tries to play cupid in her own childish ways, but her efforts often end in frustrated pouts. Despite their mutual denial, both adults are clearly drawn to each other-leaving Hana to wonder just how long it'll take them to realize they're in love.

Cw : she/her reader, sfw, fluff, third person POV, a little smau at the end, downbad san, reader has a daughter, stranger to lovers, un-established relationship, marriage mentioned, san is girl dad coded, basically a 10 year old being a matchmaker for two oblivious adults that are totally in love.

originally, this series would only have 3 parts, and this would be the last, but like—i got hit by a sudden wave of ideas, and decided to make it more than 3 parts, and the crowds... is cheering! (lmao me too, i love writing this series).

prev — masterlist — next

Hana was a clever girl—but still very much a child. Sharp-eyed, full of giggles, and not one to whisper when she could shout. And lately, she had made a very big decision: She was going to get her eomma and Uncle San to fall in love.

Because duh. (Hana’s words not me) 

San came to the restaurant a lot now. He laughed with eomma. He helped Hana with her coloring books. He brought tasty snacks everytime he came over. He even let her put stickers on his face one time and didn't complain—not even once. That made him officially the best.

And most importantly? Eomma looked happier now. She smiled more, even when she was tired. Hana thought maybe San had magic or something. Probably.

But they were both so slow. Even for a 10 year old little Hana begins to feel frustrated. 

She might be 10 but she knows from the other moms that frequently visit the restaurant—that if San and her eomma fall in love with each other, they will get married, and if they get married that means San is going to be eomma's husband, eomma's husband means Hana's appa! she giggles delightfully when she realizes that she will finally get a dad she never had. 

And thus begins her (not so) subtle playing cupid for the adults. 

One day, after school, Hana ran into the restaurant with her backpack bouncing and hair a mess. "UNCLE SAAAAN!"

San turned from his table, arms already open. Hana launched herself into them with full force, laughing as he caught her easily.

"I missed you! Did you miss me?!"

"Of course I did," San grinned, twirling her a little before settling her down. "You were gone for sooo long." he said with a playful pout.

"It was only one school day!" she giggled, puffing her cheeks. Then, eyes glinting, she leaned in close and whispered loudly, "Wanna hear a secret?"

San raised an eyebrow playfully, eyes glinting with adornment at the little girl's childish display "Always."

San bent over to her height as she cupped her small hands around his ear. "I don't have an appa, will you be my appa?"

San nearly choked on air. "W-what?!"

Hana nodded very seriously. "I want you to be my appa! because you make my eomma smile. A lot. I think you should live with us and you can eat my eomma’s soup every day. You like soup, right?"

"I mean... yes, but—"

"Good! Think about it!" she said, skipping off to color, leaving the man sitting there blinking like he’d just been hit by a very tiny freight train.

The next few days were full of chaos.

Hana, armed with all the subtlety of a marching band, began her matchmaking campaign in full. She tried everything—from drawing family portraits that included San, to pushing her mom into the seat next to him during meals. Once, she even shoved a napkin at San with the words 'KISS EOMMA??' scribbled in childish handwritting and rainbow crayons.

San coughed for a full minute making Y/N scrambled to get him a glass of water, the male could die of embarrassment right there—he thinks with his fully red cheeks. 

Y/N didn’t catch on at first. She was busy running the restaurant, balancing life, and pretending that her heart didn’t flutter every time San laughed.

She scolded Hana gently one day, after finding her rummaging through her makeup. “What are you doing with my lipstick, baby?”

“I’m making you pretty so Uncle San falls in love faster!” She said as she fiddled with a tube of lipstick, a determined look on her face. 

Y/N almost dropped the makeup pouch she was holding. Face full of embarrassment not expecting her daughter to play cupid between her and the idol. 

“But it’s okay, eomma! You’re already pretty without it! Uncle San is just really slow!” the woman almost giggle at the little comment of San but clears her throat as she gently scolds her, but of course that's not stopping Hana's master plan on getting a new dad. 

Later, while wiping tables with Y/N after closing, the memory still echoed in San’s head. He had NOT stopped thinking about it, he feels delighted of course but also nervous. 

How come a woman like Y/N didn't have someone sweeping off her feet already? She's kind, smart, and of course a beauty that could rival even a goddess. (his words, not mine). 

San sighed as he finally built a nerve to ask the woman with clammy hands, "So.. Hana said... you're not married," he said quietly. before widening his eyes in realization “W-wait I'm sorry— this might be a sensitive topic! I shouldn't have asked…” the man stuttered over his words, cold sweat rolled down his temple. 

Y/N glanced over before chuckling softly, San tried to ignore the little flutter on his heart at the sound of her laughter. "Oh. No, I'm not. Not for a while now." “And it's okay San, I've come to terms with it since years ago. I'm not ashamed you know—raising Hana all by myself for 10 years become my own accomplishment, she's everything that i could've ask for”

He nodded his heart flutter gently at the woman's adoring words, unsure what to say next. "I thought maybe... you were. That I shouldn’t... get close." He said nervously rubbing his neck. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, before widening her eyes, realizing what the man could’ve meant, “San.. are you perhaps.. took an interest in me?” Her forwardness made the man even more flustered, almost spilling his coffee. 

“I-i… you don't mind if I do right?” 

Y/N smiled faintly, but there was something soft in her voice. "And here I thought someone like you wouldn’t think twice about someone like me."

"Why wouldn’t I?" he said with a curiosity laced on his voice. 

Y/N smiled, a tad bit unsure "You’re an idol. Young, shining, talented. I’m a mom with grocery lists and nap schedules." She chuckled lightly to lighten the sudden tense atmosphere but that didn't erase the slight frown on San's handsome face. 

"And the warmest smile I’ve ever seen," San said, almost without thinking.

She blinked.

Before anything else could be said, Hana peeked from the booth, hugging her dragon plush toy. "Did you ask her yet? Are you gonna be our prince???"

Y/N let out a startled laugh. San turned red to his ears. "Hana!" Y/N scolded gently. "You can't just say that, what if you make San uncomfortable?"

"Nooo, I’m just right!" Hana said proudly with the same determined look on her face, then yawned. "Can we all have pancakes tomorrow? Together? Like a family?"

Y/N and San shared a look.

They didn’t say yes. But they didn’t say no either.

The next day, the restaurant was busy. A couple of nosy regulars had started whispering about the idol's frequent visits. One even nudged Y/N with a wink. “You and the idol, huh?” Y/N waved it off with a polite smile, but her cheeks burned.

Later, in the back kitchen, Y/N sighed as she leaned against the counter.

“He’s too young,” she murmured to herself with a sigh “Too good. And I’ve got baggage. Not to mention it could ruin his whole reputation in a second”

But when she heard San’s laughter from the dining area—loud, bright, and genuine— the way he treated Hana so gently like a father could make something in her chest tightened. Not with fear.

With hope.

Maybe Hana was right.

Maybe San wasn’t here out of obligation.

Maybe... he really liked them.

And maybe, just maybe, she liked him too.

That night, as they cleaned up together again, San turned to face her.

"Noona. Can I ask you something weird?" He said with a playful smile although his heartbeat said otherwise. She looked at him with a teasing smile. "Only if you can handle a weird answer."

He chuckled nervously. "If I weren’t... who I am. Would you think about me differently? Like, if I were just a guy who helped your daughter carry groceries?"

She paused. Then smiled, more gently this time. "San, you are that guy. And maybe that’s the part of you I’m starting to like the most."

San didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. Something about those words—so simple—yet it wrapped around his ribs and squeezed gently—an ache that wasn’t painful, just overwhelming not in a bad way.

He glanced at her eyes that stare at him with so much kindness and genuinity . They both stare at each other as the realization hits. Hana’s snores from the corner were the only sound for a moment.

Then San smiled—slow and wide.

"Okay then," he said softly. "That’s a start."

And Y/N nodded.

Yes. Yes, it was.

taglist - @sunnysidesins @spenceatiny18 @flambychan @dumplingsyum @iwuberic @kirilunimimi @thedistractedwriter @d3kstar @rosydipity @jilxxasu @dumplingsyum @hexsannie @dalsuwaha @lveegsoi @silver-hwaberry @mouthfullobats @satans-arse-crack @pixie0627 @yothangie @moonlitarcade @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @emilysecresy @ateezaddict24 @xh01bri @flylis @mimiisbetter @angie-316

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[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What Will Your FS Admire Most About You?

⚤ “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” - Pablo Neruda

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, disregard any pronouns that do not apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✠ Pile One ✠ (King of Cups,Page of Cups,The World,7)

✧ Cards went wiillldddd. You stir up so much emotion in this person, it’s crazy. Your heart chakra is front and center here. You are picture-perfect harmony and universal love to your spouse. Your love can’t be contained, you love them, your friends, your favorite mug, worms out in the rain, strangers, the moon, and all the stars in the sky.

✧ All I see is a wide-ass smile, the biggest, wateriest eyes, and full cheeks. Your spouse thinks you’re sunshine-incarnated.

✧ This will sound corny, but your heart and love for the world and all its diversity make you appear angelic; God’s gift to humanity. The emotional depth you have is nothing shy of divine. Your ability to understand and reconnect your person with their inner dreamer makes you irreplaceable in their eyes. 

✧ I feel like your future spouse had to navigate around a lot of emotionally stunted people who left scars that prevented them from forming healthy relationships. Your empathy and desire to make space for peace and unity in this world give them hope that true love is alive and they are the lucky son of a bitch who gets to call an angel, theirs.

✧ I smell salt and hear waves. (I bet you’re tired of the cheesy poetry but HEY, me and your boo are OBSESSED with your energy) You truly are as beautiful and powerful as the seven seas.

✧ You know the Ouroboros, and how it's sometimes depicted as a snake wrapped around the oceans, holding onto its tail to keep the world together? Yea, that. To your future partner, you hold the key to their world. You add so much color and vibrancy. You turn over their inner ocean and awaken so much repressed child-like wonder within them.

✧ Wow. Your spouse loves the depths of you.

✧ Check for water placements, signs, and houses, in your natal chart. Some of you have insane intuition and have clairsenses. Clairaudience to be specific.

✧ Some of you are active in charities or aspire to make a difference in society. Maybe you’re into esoteric practices or anything else metaphysical.

✧ I even have a few philosophers here. Okay, KANT! (somebody please get this joke)

She Excites the Seven Seas

✠ Pile Two ✠ (Ace of Pentacles,8oW,The Emperor rev., “I Want”)

I love the kind of woman that will actually just kill me

✧ Of course, you don’t have to be a woman but that TikTok sound SCREAMED at me. Your future spouse is lowkey intimidated by you and they love it.

✧ You have big dreams. Big plans. But most importantly, a million and one ways to get you where you need to be. Your ability to say “I want this,” and then actually go out and GET it?? Your spouse is like the meme that goes “I’m a little scared, but I’m turned on.”

✧ I also see that you’re unconventional. If people have been doing whatever you want to do a certain way for years, you'll find ways to do it differently, just cause. You’re a true trailblazer. Your self-conviction is so damn alluring. Even for the people who struggle with insecurity sometimes, once you get over that hump and decide that you desire something, you fucking get it. Your partner sees you like magic. They are impressed by just how quickly your desires are set in motion for you. They feel that you are powerful and bring a great deal of power to them from just being in your proximity.

✧ You are also the “I don’t take shit from nobody” type. Not from strangers, not from your friends, your family, not even from your partner. In their eyes, you know your worth and have a strong self-foundation that nobody can tear down. There is genuine admiration and respect here. I even get the “I want to be like you when I grow up” mentality.

✧ There is a speediness to you they find very attractive. Either the way you behave, speak, or just stress about time, your pacing holds a special place in their heart. (or maybe, despite all of your responsibilities, you manage to find stillness in the chaos and slow down when necessary)

✧ The way you speak drives this person wild. It's like your voice narrates their thoughts and is the source of all of their arousal. Do with that information what you will...(don't be cruel, you make this person so nervous).

✧ I shuffled through a playlist and E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE!! by Corpse came on and one of the lyrics goes,

She just look into my soul with them Shinigami eye Coke in my nose and a blade on her thigh. Man, I think this girl is really trying to plan my demise

✧ Yea, you put the fear of God into this person, but in a good way! Your presence can be chilling sometimes. Fire energy for sure. There are definitely people here from pile 2 of my first pac, “What are your most alluring qualities?”, check that out if you want to.

✧ Okay, this energy has me needing to take a LAP, bye.

"Man, I Think This Girl Tryna Plan My Demise"

✠ Pile Three ✠ (10oW, 9oW)(no other cards wanted to come out, real stubborn)

✧ Okay so, this feels specific?... and maybe even a lil off topic but I feel called to say this

✧ I sense that you and your person are psychically connected and share the mutual feeling that the two of you are meant to cross paths. The both of you have gotten your fair share of fuckery in this lifetime and this union feels like divine justice.

✧ This sounds a little fucked up, but you guys flourish amid trauma. Dark energy alchmaziers. You best wield your potential while you’re going THROUGH it.

✧ You had to “die” and bury yourself a dozen times to get where you are today.

✧ You are a very evolved individual. Throughout your life, traumatic events and relationships have forced you to bear a lot of weight on your back and it’s like the pressure has forged you into a diamond. With each curveball life threw at you, you stood tall and pushed to make something of yourself, proving your worth after a lifetime of strife and instability.

✧ Scorpio/Capricorn and 8th house/10th house placements. (check midpoints).

✧ A lot of you have tense shoulders, upper back, shoulder, and neck pain from the unease and anxiety your body carries. You have insomnia and may even struggle with nightmares.

✧ This person you’re coming into union with is so healing.

✧ This is something the both of you broke down and prayed for on your darkest days. This is a true partner, the soul that kept yours warm when the world was so cold. You had to put your dreamier side on the back burner to survive. This person will make you feel safe to dream again.

✧ I don’t have anything specific to say because you and your person feel so secretive  You two recognize each other’s pain and are the only people you guys trust. Like not even lil ol’ me can really get through to y'all. Y’all ride AND die for each other, in this life and the next.

✧ If you’re into astrology and already have a feel for who this person is, check your guys’ composite chart. Strong Scorpio energy here.

✧ Coming into union with this person will feel like a wish fulfillment.

✧ (short pile, it felt like a quick message for those of you who feel this connection telepathically. This is probably a secondary choice.)

"I Want To Caress The Piece of Me Within You"

✠ Pile Four ✠ (Queen of Wands, 9oP rev., 7oP, 4oP rev., the high priestess, queen of cups, “I will”)

✧ You’re a bad bitch, truly. Your fs isn’t calling you a bitch, buuuttttt she a baddie, she know she a ten! She a baddie with her baddie…. wait a minute…

✧ You may not have a lot of friends? You keep your circle tight-knit because you have been deeply hurt in the past and you guard your peace fiercely. For some of you, your home life was quite tumultuous and you struggle with financial security and inner happiness. It seemed like the world did not want you to feel good about yourself or succeed.

✧ Do you know that viral display of a deer’s ribcage with a spear through it, and how even though an attempt was made on the deer’s life, he managed to survive and lived for years after that event; all while still growing bone marrow with a giant fucking spear through its ribcage?

✧ “A close encounter with a hunter left the deer with several broken ribs and part of an arrow embedded in its body. Remarkably, the animal survived, and bone grew around the shaft and arrowhead lodged in the creature's side."

✧ "The deer lived with the arrow inside its body until years later, when another hunter killed the animal, cut the deer open, and discovered its amazing secret…As the tough tissue formed over the arrow, it acted as a splint for the damaged rib cage, strengthening the deer's injured body.”

✧ I highlighted some words that needed emphasizing. That’s how your partner sees you. They are in complete awe of the resilience and sheer tenacity you hold. They look at you and can’t believe the person before their eyes. The troubling history you usually try to hide from your romantic partners is exactly what allures this person. 

✧ You won’t ever lay on your belly and cry about life passing you by. You aren’t the type to victimize yourself and “woe is me” your way out of self-improvement.

✧ You are quite ambitious and aim to push forward, even if the odds are stacked against you.

✧ I get the message that some people in this pile have struggled with self-harm over the years. Your partner wants to kneel down and kiss your scars like a white knight, and vow to protect you emotionally and physically for as long as you’ll have them.

✧ The spear-deer imagery is so interesting. The deer represents virality. It is a symbol of piety, gentleness, devotion, and fertility. Especially with the queen of wands, the high priestess, AND the queen of cups, you provide profound love, passion, and insight to this person. However, even as a deer, you are quite badass???

✧ You are as gentle as a strand of hair but as strong as wool. Dainty but unbreakable.

✧ They have no desire to infantilize you because they know you are already your own greatest warrior. But they don’t want you to feel that you have to fight alone. Whatever burdens are on your plate, they take away as much as possible because they want to be a piece of the paradise you fight for.

✧ This is meant to be a short pac, a Tumblr post won’t do the unbelievable strength in your character much justice. Just know that your fs is so fucking in love with you and wants to spend their life by your side because of just how awe-struck they are by you.

✧ I mean c’mon… will YOU ever forget the story of the coolest fucking deer in existence??

"I Yearn To Be the Name You Call Out in Victory"

[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)