#marble effect tray

[blackdollette]

Please write anything with Spencer Reid, hopefully fluff that turns into smut. I love your work 🫶🏻🫶🏻

"whip it into a cream." | spencer reid

taco truck x vb. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: sweet, pretty, and filled with white cream...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden

female!reader x spencer

word count: 2.0k

contents: fluffy, baking cupcakes with spencer, unprotected p in v, creampie, very cringe-worthy joke at the end

“c’mon, spence! we’ll never get to put these in the oven if you eat all the batter.”

you take the spatula out of his grip as he slathers a small helping of red velvet cake batter on his tongue once again. he shakes his head, smiling as he licked the decadent mixture off his lips. “you’re one tough lady.” 

you and spencer had made plans to go to the best restaurant in town tonight, but of course a thunderstorm had to hit the streets with raging lightning and roaring thunder. you were bummed, so much that you had gotten back into your pajamas and slumped down onto the couch, letting the evening waste away. but spencer wouldn’t let this storm rain on your parade. so he had come up with the brilliant idea of making your own sweet treat. he truly was a genius. 

he got into flannel-print pajama pants that matched your pants, getting both of you into oversized hoodies as he picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter. he kissed you softly on the nose, staring at you intently with his big brown eyes and promising you the night of your life. then you two got straight to business.

you began carefully pouring the deep red batter into the small cupcake tins that each had a white cupcake wrapper inside of it. spencer stood behind you with a hand on your waist as he watched the oven reach the desired internal temperature, giving you a gentle squeeze as a signal. “let’s get these in the oven, baby.” you filled up the last tin, smearing away a stray drop with your thumb and licking off the residue.

you picked up the tray and spun around, handing it to him. he took it and carefully opened the oven, placing the filled tin inside with great care before shutting the oven. he sighed, putting his hands in the large pocket in the center of the hoodie. “and now we wait.” you looked around the kitchen, pouting slightly. 

“we should probably start cleaning up this mess, huh?” spencer groaned softly, wrapping both his arms around you and letting his head nestle in the crook of your neck. “never thought i’d live to see the day that you of all people would want to clean.” you swatted him on the chest with a scoff, earning a laugh out of him. “...besides, we haven’t even gotten started on the icing yet.” 

you eyes widened with realization. “right, let’s get to that while the cupcakes are in the oven.” spencer nodded, already two steps ahead of you as he dug into the pantry and pulled out all the ingredients in one trip. he set a jar of icing sugar, a stick of butter and a cup of milk on the counter, starting to combine the ingredients into a large bowl as you watched him in action. there was something so enticing about seeing a man in action, or maybe that was just the effect that spencer had always had on you. you were never able to tell.

you propped your elbows on the cold marble, grinning ever so slightly as you watched a sweet, fluffy cream come to life. he lifted up the coated spatula, holding it in front of you. “this look okay to you?” you squinted as you looked at it, frowning as you shook your head. spencer raises an eyebrow. “what’s wrong with it, baby?” 

you pointed at something indistinctable in the icing on the spatula. he brought it centimeters away from his face, trying to find whatever could be wrong. then you pushed his hand upward, getting a white, gooey mess all over his nose. you burst into a laughing fit, spencer fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across his unamused expression.

he set the spatula back into his bowl, only managing to get a little of the frosting off his nose. he shook his head as you giggled profusely, taking you into his arms once again and sweeping you into a kiss, his nose rubbing against yours and distributing some icing in the process. he pulled away, gazing down at you through his eyelashes with a cheeky smile on his face. “well, it looks like we’re both iced now.”

you rolled you eyes, grinning as you got a wet cloth and cleaned the mess off of your face, passing it to him to do the same. he sloppily wiped his nose, only smudging the white cream in the process. you groaned, going on your tiptoes to reach his face. “geez, you just made it even worse, spence.” he picked you up by your thighs, setting your bottom on the counter. “why don’t you help me clean it off then..?” you used your thumbs to get the last bit off his face.

he opened his mouth, licking the frosting off your fingers and humming with approval. you smiled, caressing his face gently with your thumbs as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. his hands had a gentle grip on your bare thighs as his gaze went slightly hazy, like you were the only thing in the world right now.

your hands snaked around the back of his neck, slowly pulling him down to your level until you connected your lips in a leaden kiss, his jaw opening as his lips moved against yours. he hummed quietly into your mouth, head tilting against yours to get a better taste of you. the atmosphere sucked the both of you in whole, the warmth of the room and the sweet smelling aroma from the oven making your nerves stand on end.

spencer quickly got carried away, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring it. you gasped softly as he did so, a familiar tingle ringing in your core. your tongues fought a silent battle as spencer started to move against you, his hips rocking into yours as his heart raced in his chest.

he bit his lip, suppressing a groan that nearly slipped from his mouth. his eyes glanced down, seeing where your two bodies connected and the primal beast that had awakened in his pants. his cheeks immediately flushed red as his gaze ran up to your face, taking in your shiny, parted lips and dilated pupils. you wanted him, badly. and there was no denying the desire he had for you. so the only thing to do now was just go for it.

spencer’s hands travelled downward uptil they reached the maroon drawstring of his pajama pants, his shaky hands barely able to undo the simple bow that he had tied to keep them up. his breathing was heavy and shaky, matching yours as your pressed your legs together to stop the molten-lava that boiled inside of you. you were already soaking through your shorts. not wearing panties was an amateur mistake. who knew that you’d ever find yourself in a situation like this?

as spencer finally undid the know, his cock sprung out with a bead of precum rolling down the tip. you looked down at his manhood, taking in the 8-inches of pleasure that would soon be inside of you. you wrapped your hand around his girth, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you stroked his slowly, smearing the precum down his length with your thumb.

he rocked his hips up and down, creating a little more speed and friction against his shaft. his eyes were locked on you, drinking you in like you were a drop of water from a precious fountain. his hands found your waist again, slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts, kneading your bare hips as his thumbs worked their way down to your wet core.

you lifted up your hips a little, pulling down your shorts and kicking them off, letting them lay lifeless on the linoleum floor. you ihaled a shaky breath as the cool air hit your wet pussy, your clit throbbing in response to the sensation. spencer was nearly as red and the batter the covered the bowl a few feet away from you.

he spread your leg apart a little further, slowly sinking down onto his knees until he was face to face with your dripping cunt. he looked at your hole, nearly drooling like a starved dog. he brought his mouth close to you, his hot breath warming up your insides. before digging in, he looked up at you, his voice dropping to a raspy octave. “can i..?” you nodded, sealing your eyes shut.

the feeling hit you like a brick. his tongue began to swirl across your wet pearl, his pink tongue slipping through your gooey folds. you were audibly soaked, the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of your tight hole filling the room, apart from your strained moans and whimpers. short grunts came from spencer as he pumped himself, his cock throbbing in response to his severe arousal.

his groans filled your body with waves of vibration, making you shiver as you rolled your hips against his tongue. “that’s it, baby… use me…” he managed to mutter through breathless gasps. you tossed your head back, his fingers hitting the tight bundle of nerves inside of you repeatedly.

spencer took his hand off of his dick, panting heavily as he rose back to his feet, desperately trying to recollect himself. if he had been down there for a second longer, he would’ve came without even getting to the main course yet. he lined up his pulsing rod with your cunt, teasing your entrance with his tip. you bit your lip, feeling more turned on by his teasing than anything else.

he grabbed your hips, starting to push himself in inch by inch at a time. you slurred out moans in unison, holding onto eachother for dear life until he completely stretched you out, your pussy swallowing him whole. he wasted no time thrusting into you, his hips slapping against your and sending recoils throughout your body.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rubbed messy circles onto your clit, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he swallowed hard, his cock coming into perfect contact with your cervix with every sloppy thrust. his balls slapped against the base of your hole. the stimulation became two much for you, your muscles twitching as you quickly fell into a state of overstimulation.

“s-spencer..! i-i, i’m gonna cum…” you choked out, your fingernails digging into the plush fabric of his hoodie. he buried his face in your neck, kissing it to hide the whimpers that spilled out from him. he fucked you at lightning speed, your bodies heating up like two stars reaching their supernova. 

your nerves glowed as you felt yourself releasing all over him, your core buzzing with pleasure. as you convulsed around him, spencer shot hot ropes of hot cum into you, his muscles spasming as his eyes momentarily welled with tears. he pulled out of you with a gasp, stray drops of cum gathering at his tip.

he pulled you close to him, using you as a foundation as he hastily recollected himself. you hopped off the counter and in the nick of time, the timer dinged, signalling that the cupcakes were done.

you walked over to the oven, not bothering to put your shorts back on since the hoodie was long enough to hide to the cum that dripped down your inner thighs. you opened up the oven, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out the cupcakes, the tops of them fluffy and rosy. your placed the tray on the counter that you had just been sitting on, spencer inhaling the sweet aroma. 

he smiled, grabbing the bowl of icing, finally having the chance to add the finishing touches to the cupckaes. he took one last taste of the icing, now shaking his head with disapproval. 

“the icing’s okay, i guess.” he pulled you closer to him, bringing his lips to your ear. “but you, my dear, definitely take the cake.”

author's note: bang bang kiss kiss.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Autopsy

Autopsy - dissection and examination of a dead body and its organs and structures.

The word autopsy is derived from the Greek autopsia, meaning “the act of seeing for oneself.”

Also known as: necropsy, postmortem, postmortem examination

Why is an autopsy done?

To determine the cause of death

When a suspicious or unexpected death occurs

To observe the effects of disease; when there's a public health concern, such as an outbreak with an undetermined cause

To establish the evolution and mechanisms of disease processes

When no doctor knows the deceased well enough to state a cause of death and to sign the death certificate

When the doctor, the family or legally responsible designee of the deceased person requests an autopsy

Who does the autopsy?

Autopsies ordered by the state can be done by a county coroner, who is not necessarily a doctor

A medical examiner who does an autopsy is a doctor, usually a pathologist

Clinical autopsies are always done by a pathologist

How is an autopsy done?

After the patient is pronounced dead by a physician, the body is wrapped in a sheet or shroud and transported to the morgue, where it is held in a refrigeration unit until the autopsy.

Autopsies are rarely performed at night.

Autopsy practice was largely developed in Germany, and an autopsy assistant is traditionally honored with the title "diener", which is German for "helper".

The prosector and diener wear fairly simple protective equipment, including scrub suits, gowns, gloves (typically two pair), shoe covers, and clear plastic face shields.

The body is identified and lawful consent obtained.

The procedure is done with respect and seriousness.

The prevailing mood in the autopsy room is curiosity, scientific interest, and pleasure at being able to find the truth and share it.

Most pathologists choose their specialty, at least in part, because they like finding the real answers.

Many autopsy services have a sign, "This is the place where death rejoices to help those who live." Usually it is written in Latin ("Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae").

EXTERNAL EXAMINATION

The prosector checks to make sure that the body is that of the patient named on the permit by checking the toe tag or patient wristband ID.

The body is placed on the autopsy table.

Experienced dieners, even those of slight build, can transfer even obese bodies from the carriage to the table without assistance.

Since the comfort of the patient is no longer a consideration, this transfer is accomplished with what appears to the uninitiated a rather brutal combination of pulls and shoves, not unlike the way a thug might manhandle a mugging victim.

The body is measured.

Large facilities may have total-body scales, so that a weight can be obtained.

The autopsy table is a waist-high aluminum fixture that is plumbed for running water and has several faucets and spigots to facilitate washing away all the blood that is released during the procedure.

Older hospitals may still have porcelain or even marble tables.

The autopsy table is basically a slanted tray (for drainage) with raised edges (to keep blood and fluids from flowing onto the floor).

After the body is positioned, the diener places a "body block" under the patient's back. This rubber or plastic brick-like appliance causes the chest to protrude outward and the arms and neck to fall back, thus allowing the maximum exposure of the trunk for the incisions.

Abnormalities of the external body surfaces are then noted and described, either by talking into a voice recorder or making notes on a diagram and/or checklist.

OPENING THE TRUNK

The diener takes a large scalpel and makes the incision in the trunk. This is a Y-shaped incision. The arms of the Y extend from the front of each shoulder to the bottom end of the breast bone (called the xiphoid process of the sternum). In women, these incisions are diverted beneath the breasts, so the "Y" has curved, rather than straight, arms. The tail of the Y extends from the xiphoid process to the pubic bone and typically makes a slight deviation to avoid the umbilicus (navel). The incision is very deep, extending to the rib cage on the chest, and completely through the abdominal wall below that.

With the Y incision made, the next task is to peel the skin, muscle, and soft tissues off the chest wall. This is done with a scalpel. When complete, the chest flap is pulled upward over the patient's face, and the front of the rib cage and the strap muscles of the front of the neck lie exposed. Human muscle smells not unlike raw lamb meat in my opinion. At this point of the autopsy, the smells are otherwise very faint.

An electric saw or bone cutter (which looks a lot like curved pruning shears) is used to open the rib cage. One cut is made up each side of the front of the rib cage, so that the chest plate, consisting of the sternum and the ribs which connect to it, are no longer attached to the rest of the skeleton. The chest plate is pulled back and peeled off with a little help of the scalpel, which is used to dissect the adherent soft tissues stuck to the back of the chest plate. After the chest plate has been removed, the organs of the chest (heart and lungs) are exposed (the heart is actually covered by the pericardial sac).

Before disturbing the organs further, the prosector cuts open the pericardial sac, then the pulmonary artery where it exits the heart. He sticks his finger into the hole in the pulmonary artery and feels around for any thromboembolus (a blood clot which has dislodged from a vein elsewhere in the body, traveled through the heart to the pulmonary artery, lodged there, and caused sudden death. This is a common cause of death in hospitalized patients).

The abdomen is further opened by dissecting the abdominal muscle away from the bottom of the rib cage and diaphragm. The flaps of abdominal wall fall off to either side, and the abdominal organs are now exposed.

REMOVING THE ORGANS OF THE TRUNK

The most typical method of organ removal is called the "Rokitansky method." This is not unlike field dressing a deer. The dissection begins at the neck and proceeds downward, so that eventually all the organs of the trunk are removed from the body in one bloc.

The first thing the diener does is to identify the carotid and subclavian arteries in the neck and upper chest. He ties a long string to each and then cuts them off, so that the ties are left in the body. This allows the mortician to more easily find the arteries for injection of the embalming fluids.

A cut is them made above the larynx, detaching the larynx and esophagus from the pharynx. The larynx and trachea are then pulled downward, and the scalpel is used to free up the remainder of the chest organs from their attachment at the spine.

The diaphragm is cut away from the body wall, and the abdominal organs are pulled out and down.

Finally, all of the organs are attached to the body only by the pelvic ligaments, bladder, and rectum.

A single slash with the scalpel divides this connection, and all of the organs are now free in one block. The diener hands this organ bloc to the prosector. The prosector takes the organ bloc to a dissecting table (which is often mounted over the patient's legs) and dissects it. Meanwhile, the diener proceeds to remove the brain.

Another method is called Virchow method, which entails removing organs individually.

EXAMINATION OF THE ORGANS OF THE TRUNK

At the dissection table, the prosector typically dissects and isolates the esophagus from the rest of the chest organs. This is usually done simply by pulling it away without help of a blade (a technique called "blunt dissection"). The chest organs are then cut away from the abdominal organs and esophagus with scissors. The lungs are cut away from the heart and trachea and weighed, then sliced like loaves of bread into slices about one centimeter thick. A long (12" - 18"), sharp knife, called a "bread knife" is used for this.

The heart is weighed and opened along the pathway of normal blood flow using the bread knife or scissors. Old-time pathologists look down on prosectors who open the heart with scissors, rather than the bread knife, because, while the latter takes more skill and care, it is much faster and gives more attractive cut edges than when scissors are used. The coronary arteries are examined by making numerous crosscuts with a scalpel.

The larynx and trachea are opened longitudinally from the rear and the interior examined. The thyroid gland is dissected away from the trachea with scissors, weighed, and examined in thin slices. Sometimes the parathyroid glands are easy to find, other times impossible.

The bloc containing the abdominal organs is turned over so that the back side is up. The adrenal glands are located in the fatty tissue over the kidneys (they are sometimes difficult to find) and are removed, weighed, sliced, and examined by the prosector.

The liver is removed with scissors from the rest of the abdominal organs, weighed, sliced with a bread knife, and examined. The spleen is similarly treated.

The intestines are stripped from the mesentery using scissors (the wimpy method) or bread knife (macho method). The intestines are then opened over a sink under running water, so that all the feces and undigested food flow out. As one might imagine, this step is extremely malodorous. The resultant material in the sink smells like a pleasant combination of feces and vomitus. The internal (mucosal) surface of the bowel is washed off with water and examined. It is generally the diener's job to "run the gut," but usually a crusty, senior diener can intimidate a young first- year resident prosector into doing this ever-hated chore. Basically, whichever individual has the least effective steely glare of disdain is stuck with running the gut.

The stomach is then opened along its greater curvature. If the prosector is lucky, the patient will have not eaten solid food in a while. If not, the appearance of the contents of the stomach will assure the prosector that he will not be eating any stews or soups for a long time. In either case, the smell of gastric acid is unforgettable.

The pancreas is removed from the duodenum, weighed, sliced and examined. The duodenum is opened longitudinally, washed out, and examined internally. The esophagus is similarly treated.

The kidneys are removed, weighed, cut lengthwise in half, and examined. The urinary bladder is opened and examined internally. In the female patient, the ovaries are removed, cut in half, and examined. The uterus is opened along either side (bivalved) and examined. In the male, the testes are typically not removed if they are not enlarged. If it is necessary to remove them, they can be pulled up into the abdomen by traction on the spermatic cord, cut off, cut in half, and examined.

The aorta and its major abdominal/pelvic branches (the renal, celiac, mesenteric, and iliac arteries) are opened longitudinally and examined.

Most of the organs mentioned above are sampled for microscopic examination. Sections of the organs are cut with a bread knife or scalpel and placed in labeled plastic cassettes. Each section is the size of a postage stamp or smaller and optimally about three millimeters in thickness. The cassettes are placed in a small jar of formalin for fixation. They are then "processed" in a machine that overnight removes all the water from the specimens and replaces it with paraffin wax. Permanent microscopic sections (five microns, or one two-hundredth of a millimeter thick) can be cut from these paraffin sections, mounted on glass slides, stained, coverslipped, and examined microscopically. The permanent slides are usually kept indefinitely, but must be kept for twenty years minimum.

Additional small slices of the major organs are kept in a "save jar," typically a one-quart or one-pint jar filled with formalin. Labs keep the save jar for a variable length of time, but at least until the case is "signed out" (i.e., the final written report is prepared). Some labs keep the save jar for years. All tissues that are disposed of are done so by incineration.

A note on dissection technique: All of the above procedures are done with only four simple instruments -- a scalpel, the bread knife, scissors, and forceps (which most medical people call "pick-ups." Only scriptwriters say "forceps"). The more handy the prosector, the more he relies on the bread knife, sometimes making amazingly delicate cuts with this long, unwieldy-looking blade. The best prosectors are able to make every cut with one long slicing action. To saw back and forth with the blade leaves irregularities on the cut surface which are often distracting on specimen photographs. So the idea is to use an extremely sharp, long blade that can get through a 2000-gram liver in one graceful slice. Some old-time purist pathologists actually maintain their own bread knives themselves and let no one else use them. Such an individual typically carries it around in his briefcase in a leather sheath. This would make an excellent fiction device, which, to my knowledge, has not been used. Imagine a milquetoast pathologist defending himself from a late-night attacker in the lab, with one desperate but skillful slash of the bread knife almost cutting the assailant in half!

Note on the appearance of the autopsy suite: Toward the end of the autopsy procedure, the room is not a pretty sight. Prosectors vary markedly in how neat they keep the dissection area while doing the procedure. It is legendary that old-time pathologists were so neat that they'd perform the entire procedure in a tux (no apron) right before an evening at the opera (pathologists are noted for their love of classical music and fine art). Modern prosectors are not this neat. Usually, the autopsy table around the patient is covered with blood, and it is very difficult not to get some blood on the floor. We try to keep blood on the floor to a minimum, because this is a slippery substance that can lead to falls. The hanging meat scales used to weigh the organs are usually covered with or dripping with blood. The chalk that is used to write organ weights on the chalkboard is also smeared with blood, as may be the chalkboard itself. This is an especially unappetizing juxtaposition.

Another example using the Virchow method:

After the intestines are mobilized, they may be opened using special scissors.

Inspecting the brain often reveals surprises. A good pathologist takes some time to do this.

The pathologist examines the heart, and generally the first step following its removal is sectioning the coronary arteries that supply the heart with blood. There is often disease here, even in people who believed their hearts were normal.

After any organ is removed, the pathologist will save a section in preservative solution. Of course, if something looks abnormal, the pathologist will probably save more. The rest of the organ goes into a biohazard bag, which is supported by a large plastic container.

The pathologist weighs the major solid organs (heart, lungs, brain, kidneys, liver, spleen, sometimes others) on a grocer's scale.

The smaller organs (thyroid, adrenals) get weighed on a chemist's triple-beam balance.

The next step in the abdominal dissection will be exploring the bile ducts and then freeing up the liver. The pathologist uses a scalpel or other similar tool.

After weighing the heart, the pathologist completes the dissection. There are a variety of ways of doing this, and the choice will depend on the case. If the pathologist suspects a heart attack, a long knife may be the best choice.

In the example: The liver is removed. The pathologist finds something important. It appears that the man had a fatty liver. It is too light, too orange, and a bit too big. Perhaps this man had been drinking heavily for a while.

The pathologist decides to remove the neck organs, large airways, and lungs in one piece. This requires careful dissection. The pathologist always examines the neck very carefully.

The liver in this example weighs much more than the normal 1400 gm.

The lungs are almost never normal at autopsy. In the example, the lungs are pink, because the dead man was a non-smoker. The pathologist will inspect and feel them for areas of pneumonia and other abnormalities.

The liver is cut at intervals of about a centimeter, using a long knife. This enables the pathologist to examine its inner structure.

The pathologist weighs both lungs together, then each one separately. Afterwards, the lungs may get inflated with fixative.

The rest of the team continues with the removal of the other organs. They may decide to take the urinary system as one piece, and the digestive system down to the small intestine as another single piece. This will require careful dissection.

One pathologist holds the esophagus, stomach, pancreas, duodenum, and spleen. He opens these, and may save a portion of the gastric contents to check for poison.

Another pathologist holds the kidneys, ureters, and bladder. Sometimes these organs will be left attached to the abdominal aorta. The pathologist opens all these organs and examine them carefully.

Dissecting the lungs can be done in any of several ways. All methods reveal the surfaces of the large airways, and the great arteries of the lungs.

Most pathologists use the long knife again while studying the lungs. The air spaces of the lungs will be evaluated based on their texture and appearance.

Before the autopsy is over, the brain is usually suspended in fixative for a week so that the later dissection will be clean, neat, and accurate.

If no disease of the brain is suspected, the pathologist may cut the brain fresh.

The kidneys are weighed before they are dissected.

It is the pathologist's decision as to whether to open the small intestine and/or colon. If they appear normal on the outside, there is seldom significant pathology on the inside.

One pathologist prepares the big needle and thread used to sew up the body.

When the internal organs have been examined, the pathologist may return all but the tiny portions that have been saved to the body cavity. Or the organs may be cremated without being returned.

The appropriate laws, and the wishes of the family, are obeyed.

The breastbone and ribs are usually replaced in the body.

The skull and trunk incisions are sewed shut ("baseball stitch").

The body is washed and is then ready to go to the funeral director.

These notes do not show all the steps of an autopsy, but will give you the general idea. 

During the autopsy, there may be photographers, evidence technicians, police, hospital personnel, and others.

In the example, the pathologists submit the tissue they saved to the histology lab, to be made into microscopic slides.

When these are ready, they will examine the sections, look at the results of any lab work, and draw their final conclusions.

The only finding in this sample autopsy was fatty liver. There are several ways in which heavy drinking, without any other disease, can kill a person. The pathologists will rule each of these in or out, and will probably be able to give a single answer to the police or family.

CLOSING UP AND RELEASING THE BODY

After all the above procedures are performed, the body is now an empty shell, with no larynx, chest organs, abdominal organs, pelvic organs, or brain. The front of the rib cage is also missing. The scalp is pulled down over the face, and the whole top of the head is gone. Obviously, this is not optimal for lying in state in public view. The diener remedies this problem. First, the calvarium is placed back on the skull (the brain is not replaced), the scalp pulled back over the calvarium, and the wound sewn up with thick twine using the type of stitch used to cover baseballs. The wound is now a line that goes from behind the ears over the back of the skull, so that when the head rests on a pillow in the casket, the wound is not visible.

The empty trunk looks like the hull of a ship under construction, the prominent ribs resembling the corresponding structural members of the ship. In many institutions, the sliced organs are just poured back into the open body cavity. In other places, the organs are not replaced but just incinerated at the facility. In either case, the chest plate is placed back in the chest, and the body wall is sewn back up with baseball stitches, so that the final wound again resembles a "Y."

The diener rinses the body off with a hose and sponge, covers it with a sheet, and calls the funeral home for pick- up. As one might imagine, if the organs had not been put back in the body, the whole trunk appears collapsed, especially the chest (since the chest plate was not firmly reattached to the ribs). The mortician must then remedy this by placing filler in the body cavity to re-expand the body to roughly normal contours.

Ultimately, what is buried/cremated is either 1) the body without a brain and without any chest, abdominal, or pelvic organs, or 2) the body without a brain but with a hodgepodge of other organ parts in the body cavity.

FINISHING UP

After the funeral home has been called, the diener cleans up the autopsy suite with a mop and bucket, and the prosector finishes up the notes and/or dictation concerning the findings of the "gross exam" (the part of the examination done with the naked eye and not the microscope; this use of the term "gross" is not a value judgement but a direct German translation of "big" as opposed to "microscopic").

For some odd reason, many prosectors report increased appetite after an autopsy, so the first thing they want to do afterwards is grab a bite to eat.

The whole procedure in experienced hands, assuming a fairly straightforward case and no interruptions, has taken about two hours.

Complicated cases requiring detailed explorations and special dissections (e.g., exploring the bile ducts, removing the eyes or spinal cord) may take up to four hours.

AFTER THE AUTOPSY

Days to weeks later, the processed microscopic slides are examined by the attending pathologist, who renders the final diagnoses and dictates the report.

A final report is ready in a month or so. The glass slides and a few bits of tissue are kept forever, so that other pathologists can review the work.

Only the pathologist can formally issue the report, even if he or she was not the prosector (i.e., the prosector was a resident, PA, or med student).

The report is of variable length but almost always runs at least three pages. It may be illustrated with diagrams that the prosector draws from scratch or fills in on standard forms with anatomical drawings.

The Joint Commission for the Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations (JCAHO), which certifies hospitals, requires the final report to be issued within sixty days of the actual autopsy.

The College of American Pathologists, which certifies medical laboratories, requires that this be done in thirty days.

Nevertheless, pathologists are notorious for tardiness in getting the final report out, sometimes resulting in delays of years.

Perhaps the non-compensated nature of autopsy practice has something to do with this. Pathologists are otherwise very sensitive to turnaround times.

THE BRAIN-CUTTING

The examiner returns to the brain left suspended in a big jar of formalin for a few weeks. After the brain is "fixed," it has the consistency and firmness of a ripe avocado.

Before fixation, the consistency is not unlike that of three-day- old refrigerated, uncovered Jello.

Infant brains can be much softer than that before fixation, even as soft as a flan dessert warmed to room temperature, or worse, custard pie filling. Such a brain may be difficult or impossible to hold together and can fall apart as one attempts to remove it from the cranium.

Assuming good fixation of an adult brain, it is removed from the formalin and rinsed in a running tap water bath for several hours to try to cut down on the discomforting, eye-irritating, possibly carcinogenic formalin vapors.

The cerebrum is severed from the rest of the brain (brainstem and cerebellum) by the prosector with a scalpel.

The cerebellum is severed from the brainstem, and each is sliced and laid out on a tray for examination.

The cerebrum is sliced perpendicularly to its long axis and laid out to be examined.

Sections for microscopic processing are taken, as from the other organs, and a few slices are held in "save jars."

The remainder of the brain slices is incinerated.

Sources: 1 2 3 4

If these notes help with your poem/story, do tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Death seeking creator with Zhongli idea

Whenever Zhongli remembers that it was their that the creator was hurt to this degree, he felt like he should go through the painfullest of deaths but he can't... Not right now, not while leaving the creator in such a state. So, he retired from the Funeral Palor and spend his days caring for the creator.

Today, too, Zhongli walked into the tranquil adobe of the creator as he carried the tea he personally brewed to offer the creator. The tea contained the calming effects that is very much needed for the creator's tired mind.

Maybe because of his relentless efforts or because of the effects of all the tea and medicine, the creator is becoming a bit more stable these days, meaning they are not asking him to squish them with the meteor he summon.

Relishing in the small change of the creator, Zhongli stood in front of the creator's room and asked, "Your grace, may I come in?"

What came back to him was the answer "Yes, you may," accompanied by the small giggles of the creator.

Zhongli opened the door and looked for the creator's form wondering what could make them so amused. And there they were, wearing white silk gown, sitting in the middle of the silk bed Ninggaung had presented to them. Their face bloomed into a full smile as they locked eyes with him.

The smile was so radiant that Zhongli would have liked to bath in all of its glory

.

.

.

if not for the gold, gold, gold everywhere invading all of his five senses.

The gold was staining the silk bed sheet, the white gown, the marble floor and the creator's arms, and legs and face.

In their hand was a hair pin Zhongli had presented to them a week ago, contented in the fact that they stopped asking him to kill them.

Sitting in the pool of their own blood, the creator said, "Surprise!", like a child whose prank was successful.

"You...r.... Your.... Grace.... What have you done?"

Zhongli asked as he dropped the tea pot tray in his hands to run to your side.

"Hehe, I... surprised you right!" They asked as they coughed up blood.

"I got the idea... from Kaeya. The best way to disappoint someone is by making them hope and breaking that hope."

That was their last words before they disappeared into thin air and left nothing but ash.

Ah-

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD

YOU

YOUR BRAIN, GIVE ME IT. THIS IS EXQUISITE. SO MARVELOUS. JUST ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY PERFECT.

I BOW WITH MY HEAD SLAMMING INTO THE FLOOR TO YOU, OH GREAT BRILLIANT ANON. OH HOW LOVELY THIS WRITING IS, IT IS LIKE IVE BEEN SHOWN THE WONDERS OF MY OWN MIND

GIVE THIS ANON PRAISE EVERYONE, GIVE THEM SO MANY PROPS AND HONOR. TRULY A WONDERFUL DISPLAY OF WRITING AND PUTTING FULL FORCE INTO THE IDEA OF OUR DEATH SEEKING CREATOR AU

[logical-grave]

✧ Pretty little thing ✧ Ch.2

♡ Pairing ♡ - Rafe Cameron x Plus Size!Reader

♡ Warnings ♡ - Public sex, Smut, some mean!Rafe again and some nice!rafe? Creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talk, some tit play, hurtful comments, and ofc unedited mistakes hehehe

♡ A/N ♡ - Erm I need this man biblically. Pls don’t lose respect for me hehe

♡ Word count ♡ - 2.7k

♡ Part 1 ♡

“Of course! Let me know if you need anything else.” My cheeks hurt due to the forced smile on my face, a side effect of my customer service persona. The serving tray in my hand was two seconds from toppling over, but I made it to the club guests with their drinks before that could happen. The older gentleman of the group slipped me a twenty, and I smiled, slyly taking it and stuffing it in the waistband of my skirt. Twenty was cheap. On a good day, I made close to twelve hundred in tips alone, but every penny counts, I guess.

“Hey sweetie.” Another man called for me and I rolled my eyes before turning to him with another forced smile. “How can I help you, sir?” I tucked the tray I held under my arm as the man approached me, toying with the racket in his hand. His partner busied himself by playing with a tennis ball like a golden retriever, and I stifled a chuckle. “Here,” he holds his racket out towards me, “play a game with us.”

My lips form into a tight-lipped smile, looking at him with hesitation. “I should get back to work.” A dry chuckle follows my words, and he makes an unsatisfied face. “Come on, aren’t you guys supposed to attend to our every need?” He asks, and he’s right, we aren’t supposed to say no to the guests, but it’s also not supposed to be knowledgeable to them. He steps closer to me, making it obvious as he looks me up and down, eye-fucking me right in front of my face. “Apologies, sir. I’m neede-”

“Fuck off, ballsack. She’s busy.” Rafes voice cut through the air and I looked over my shoulder to see him approaching us, holding a racket as well. My eyes widened slightly as I took in Rafes frame. He was shirtless, a sheen of sweat coating his body, telling me just finished a match, and a pair of black shorts hanging low on his hips, accentuating the ‘V’ of his torso along with a backwards hat. Jesus, it’s like looking at a fucking marble statue. It didn't help when he stepped close enough for me to feel his body heat emanating onto my back.

“You’re gonna let this douche speak for you?” The man stepped closer as well, still keeping a safe distance from me, but I could feel Rafe tense up. His reaction caused the man to smirk, showing he was getting what he wanted out of Rafe. “Please, forgive us.” I turn and push on Rafes chest, urging him to walk backwards, and he keeps his attention on the older man. He was in clear view still as Rafe lifted his arm, pointing his racket at the man in a threatening manner. “Watch yourself, gramps.” He yelled out, eventually turning around to walk until we were far enough away from the man.

“What the hell, Rafe?” I bit, drawing my eyebrows together in a pissed off manner. Rafe flared his nostrils, throwing his racket on the ground next to the benches on the court. Great, now he’s going to rip me a new one. “He was harassing you, I wasn’t going to sit on my ass and do nothing.” He was in my face now, anger written all over his face, and I closed my mouth, deciding not to talk back due to the fact that another guest might overhear. “He asked me to play a game, and I was telling him no.” I turned, walking off the courts and towards the pool.

Recently, we cut our laundry attendant because she was smoking joints on the job and made all the towels smell like weed. Of course, complaints ensued and now towel duty that was a one-person job was now a six-person job, dividing it between my coworkers and I.

I groaned as I heard footsteps trailing mine on the wet tile of the pool deck. “You would’ve had to tell him no twice. That’s one too many for my liking.” He reasoned, and I ignored him as I walked over to the first cabana on the pool deck, stripping its sheets and towels. It was close to 10 o’clock and the guests were beginning to trickle out of the club, so it was time to start on my closing duties, but Rafe didn’t give a shit. “I could’ve handled him.” My voice was harsher than I intended as I turned to him, dropping the sheets I held onto the cabana.

I look at Rafe, and he doesn’t say anything, just huffing his chest, which doesn’t help when I’m trying to be mad at him. His broad shoulders compliment him well, his eyes narrowing on me as he walks closer to me. I could feel his body heat again, and I looked forward, facing his chest, which was beautifully structured. He hooked a finger under my chin, leading my face up to meet his, his other hand resting on my hip. He doesn’t say anything, just staring into my eyes longer than he’d ever done. In fact, I think this was the first time he actually took the time to look at me and could answer what color my eyes were if he was asked by someone.

His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, as a gasp left my lips from the feeling of his hand pushing my back to bring my body flush against him. Something flashed in his eyes, igniting something inside me, and it was all centered around him. I couldn’t tell when he placed his lips on mine, but when I realized it, the anger that resented him seemed to fade along with whatever else was around us. The kiss felt like a pull that I refused for so long, and the relief of his lips on mine was something that burned into the memory of my brain. His lips are soft, pink, and so perfectly tender as passion brewed between us from the way he pushed his tongue passed the slit above my bottom lip. The kiss was needy and intimate, exactly the kind of kiss Rafe would give.

I pushed his chest, urging him away from me, and I could swear he didn’t want to until I pushed him further. He sighed, pushing his hips forward and making me gasp. “Are you hard?” I giggled with a small blush, looking down at his prominent bulge, pressing it against me. Rafe looked at me and gave me a small shrug. “I get turned on when you yell at me.” His face was unchanging, as if his statement was matter-of-factly.

My head turned as I searched the pool deck for any signs of life. The golf course was not far and anyone in a cabby driving by would see, as well as tennis players returning from a match. Even worse, a lot of the workers walk through the pool deck as a shortcut to the gym. It was simply too risky and though this wasn’t the best paying job, I didn’t want to lose it over something as trivial as sex. Yet, I’m reminded of our agreement as Rafe presses his body against mine, prompting me to sit on the edge of the cabana.

“Rafe, we can’t. I’ll get fired if we get caught.” I move to sit up, but Rafe pushes me down, making me let out an exasperated yelp. The comfort of the cabana on my back was welcomed as I laid down on it and my head rested on the bundled sheets. Rafe moved to stand between my legs, making me bite my lip at how perfectly aligned we are. I stretch my neck up to look around once again, the fear of someone coming rushing through me. “Rafe, we shouldn’t.” I looked at him with worry, but he’s busy trailing his fingers under my skirt and up my thigh, leaving goose-bumps over my skin due to his delicate touch.

Fuck, he makes this hard.

“What did I say about these?” Rafe hooked his finger on the waistband of my panties before snapping them back against my skin, warranting a small wince from me. I looked up at him and bit my lip nervously. “Not to wear them anymore.” My voice was soft-spoken, his intimidation drawing this out from me. The side of his mouth curled up, his eyes darkening at my response, just like he wanted me to. “Good girl,” He said in a low voice, a tinge of husk aiding it. Rafe pulls on my polo that was tucked into my skirt, pushing it over my breasts, and my eyes widen.

Though, I don't stop him. The worry of being caught by someone has been pushed behind the lust that began to cloud my mind, and Rafe took notice. He pulled the cups of my bra down under my breasts, giving them a small push-up and exposing them perfectly to him. He makes no hesitation to reach and palm at my breasts, biting his lip. “That's what I love about girls like you,” He pinched my nipple. “You have tits and ass for days.”

I look away, attempting to distract myself from his words. I knew what he meant, the compliment not even close to being considered one with how backhanded it was. The worst part? Rafe genuinely meant it, as if bigger girls didn’t have much more to themselves than our sizable assets. It reminded me that to him, I was good enough to fuck but not to date, much less even save my phone number.

Rafe doesn’t take notice of my sudden disinterest, instead removing one hand from my breast, and I hear a rustle of fabric. I crane my neck and look at him standing between my legs, taking his shorts off to circle his knees, fully baring himself. I let out a small gasp as I looked at his cock. It was painfully hard, with a string of pre-cum falling from the tip to drip onto my thigh. “See what you do to me?” He pumps himself a couple of times, letting out small moans as his other hand bunches my skirt up at my waist.

He thumbs my clit, making small circular motions as he narrows his eyes at me, making sure I’m reacting how he wants. I blush as I bite my lip, holding back the moans that threaten to spill from my lips. This just warrants him to press on it, eliciting a moan from me as he intended. “I wish you could see yourself right now.” His eyes are hooded, clouded with lust and desire. I look at him innocently, his comment giving me a small surge of confidence. It was insane how quickly he shifted my mood and I, more than, let him.

I watch as he removes his hand, moving it to grip my hip as he presses his tip on my clit. I make a small noise at the sensation before he starts to drag his tip up and down my folds, gathering my slick with his pre-cum, the act lewd in itself. Finally, after out his tease, he slowly eases in until fully sinking in me, prompting a moan from the both of us. I shut my eyes as I let out a show exhale, delighting in the feeling of him in me time and time again. Rafe pushed my thigh down, as he began his thrusts, his other hand moving to cup my breast.

My head falls back against the bundle of sheets as Rafe thrusts into me, my hand reaching over my head to grip the sheets. “Fuck, Rafe.” I whimper, his cock stretching me out, and I bite the inside of my cheek against the burn, ignoring it due to the pleasure accompanying it. The familiar way his cock curved always lightly grazed over my g-spot, adding to my lust. Sometimes, I swear he knew my body better than I did.

“Rafe,” I whine, “S’too much.” This only drove him to pound into me harder and at a faster pace as well. If he had the chance to ruin me completely, he’d take it without hesitation. “You can take me,” Rafe pants, looking down. “Look.” I follow his eyes, and it takes everything in me not to cum as I watch his cock slide in and out of my abused cunt. The image, so pornographic, I almost subconsciously tell myself to look away, but then I remember I’m a part of that image. The indecent sound of our shared arousal fills our ears with each slap of his skin against mine, along with my strangled moans.

This was wrong. This was so incredibly wrong yet the seemingly never ending list of consequences wouldn’t even be considered when asked if this was worth it. Rafe grasps onto my hips as he pushes me into the cabana, driving into me enough to hit my cervix. He squeezes his eyes shut, a habit he’s formed when he’s trying to hold himself back from finishing quickly.

“Rafe,” He looks at me with lust-driven eyes. “I need you to cum in me.” I whine and something behind his eyes shifts. As if he’s been waiting to hear those words leave my mouth for as long as we’ve had this relationship. Rafe always came inside me, thanks to the IUD I have implanted, but I had never asked him once to do the sinful act myself.

Then, It started at the base of my stomach, the familiar tightness of my walls causing Rafe to hold my hips harder, and I winced at the pleasurable pain it drew out. “I’m close, baby. I’m so close.” He reached his finger to my clit and circled it with his thumb, the stimulation allowing the force of my orgasm to crash into every crevice of my body. My head fell into a daze and my vision blurred slightly as I milked his cock, my walls clenching him oh so nicely.

He thrusts forward, the fill of his cum settled into me with pulses of his cock, and the overflow dripped down between our thighs. The stutter of his hips made a slow stop and his body fell slack over mine, and a silent buzz of content settled over us. Rafe and I panted as we attempted to recover our breathing, the feeling of his chest pressing against mine almost giving me a sense of comfort. A blush pinched my cheeks as I felt Rafe pepper small kisses over my chest and neck, the ticklish feeling making me giggle. Rafe stopped himself at that sound and looked at me and in an instant, he was Rafe Cameron again. The subtle changes in his expression weren't subtle enough, clearly.

Rafe pushes off me and takes himself out with a groan. I cross my ankles as I sit up, pulling down my shirt before reaching behind myself to grab a pillowcase and clean myself off but its taken from my hands before I could do so. I look up at Rafe, and he rudely avoids my gaze, instead wiping his shaft before I get a chance for myself. I sigh and reach behind again for another pillowcase, but Rafe grabs that one and throws it behind me as well.

“Put your panties on.” He says, pulling up his shorts and wiping his hand. I quirk an eyebrow as I look at him, finding some sort of tell that says he’s not serious. He seems to notice and darkens his expression, reaching to pull on my arm and stand me up abruptly, making me stumble into his chest. I stare at him in disbelief at his man-handling, ready to speak on it, but he beats me to it. “If you're going to wear your little panties, you’re going to wear them to keep my cum inside you.” He lightly grasps my chin to look up at him, and I slowly nod in response. Rafe pecks my lips with a small smile before taking the waistband of my panties and pulling them up, giving my ass cheek a slap, and I jumped slightly.

Rafe gives me a small nod as a goodbye before walking out the pool deck, and a strike of fear surges through me as soon as he’s gone. Just above the door he left through, a camera sits idly facing the entirety of the pool and all the blood drains from my face. “Fuck!” I yell to myself, into the sheets I held in my hands out of frustration. Attempting to push the problem from my brain, I continued stripping the rest of the cabanas on the pool deck until a notification made me pause. I take out my phone and read it to myself.

“Rafe Cameron sent you $1,500.”

-

thank you for reading!!! lmk what you think! love you!!

[carduelism]

Making RDR2 characters into bagels: Charles Smith

Hyperfixation is evil but also great so. Ever wanted to take a bite out of charles?yeah me too. So have this recipe for a herbal sweet savoury gingery bagel

(Recipes for Arthur and John are made and coming, just need to get photos ❤️ Expect the rest of the camp too)

Results:

Recipe:

Usually I'd be batch making bagels, but I'm just going to make 2.

1 cup of plain flour

Bloom 1/2 tablespoon of yeast in warm water (wait 10 mins) then add water as needed til dough comes together

(I don't like measuring liquid as it may over hydrate the dough and that's uncomfortable to work with)

2 tablespoons maple syrup

Pinch of salt

2 tablespoons of ginger

1 tablespoons of thyme

1 teaspoon of nutmeg

1/2 table spoon of cinnamon (because I’m evil and really like cinnamon)

You can also just measure seasonings with your heart if you are brave enough

Half your dough for the marbling. Add a teaspoon of blue food dye and the slightest dash of red

Knead each dough for 10-15 minutes. Put a cute video or music in the background as you knead if you want. And yes im sorry for making there be two doughs, you will need to knead separately for a combined time of 20-30 minutes 😞

Let doughs rest for an hour, or however long your ADHD brain deems an hour. The doughs should have doubled in size

Start working on the water you are going to boil the bagel in, I put a gulp of molasses in my big pot, turn the heat up and put the lid on, get it boiling! You can use other sweeteners too; honey, brown sugar, maple syrup.

Also preheat your oven to 180C/350F (fan-forced)

Third each ball of dough and then sandwich them randomly together. Mush the dough around for a bit to make sure there stuck to each other but not enough for the colour to start mixing. Then you can half the dough again and begin making the bagel shape via this method:

make a dough ball by rolling it around on your surface. Puncture your finger through the middle to make the hole (HINT: the hole will close in during the second rising and possibly during boiling, so make the hole bigger than you think it would need to be!)

Let the bagels rise for 10-15 minutes on some baking paper. I like to cut the baking paper underneath it into squares, it helps with placing it into the boiling water (as a guy with nasty burns from baking I get Very scared) and just falls off.

Once they've risen for the second time, place those bad boys in the water! Air lift them by the sides of the baking paper and drop them in carefully please I don't want anyone getting burnt. Now here is where you get to decide on texture;

Boil for a minute minimum, this gives the shiny effect and sets the bagels size but keeps a fluffier texture. If you like your bagels chewier and tougher like me, I go with 5 minutes lol.

Consider what texture you want!

Put the bagels on baking paper in a tray but before putting them in the oven, add an egg wash. Mix a whole egg together and brush that shit on top, makes the bagel brown nicely. If you don't have a brush, just use paper towel; dip it in the egg and brush it over the bagel.

For the decorative effects I put poppyseeds and chia seeds on the pale dough coloured side, and used the clean flat end of a texta (bit less than 1cm) dipped slightly in egg and then in flour for the dots.

OVEN TIME!!!!!! Put them in for 35-45 minutes (I accidentally under baked mine at 35 mins and they were a bit gummy…)

I would serve with well marinated meat though I Am pescatarian and fold salmon slices worked quite well too, of course veggos can use tofu too. used some stronger herbs instead of a salad, like rocket ect 😗

Enjoy!

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Great Hall of the castle, adorned with black and gold Targaryen banners and tapestries, shimmered under the warm, flickering light of countless candles and chandeliers. Noble lords and ladies, clad in resplendent gowns and tailored finery, swirled gracefully across the polished marble floor, their laughter and conversation filling the air. The orchestral melodies of harps and strings, performed by a troupe of skilled musicians, resonated through the hall, guiding the dancers in their elegant waltzes and lively reels. Tables were laden with a sumptuous feast, a cornucopia of Westeros’s finest foods, as well as beautiful centrepiece bouquets of dahlias and violas.

Servants diligently attend to the guests, carrying trays of delicacies around the hall and topping up any empty goblets they saw in the hand of a noble. The Harvest Moon, its silvery light streaming through arched windows, cast a celestial glow upon the revelry, infusing the night with a sense of enchantment and fleeting magic. Before immersing themselves in the social whirlwind, Maera and her father, Lord Jasper Wylde, were presented to the Royal table.

King Aegon, the host of the evening, sat in the center, his deep green robes a testament to his royal lineage. His demeanor was jovial, the effects of the drink apparent. To his left, his sister-wife, Queen Helaena, adorned in her finest gown of green with moth patterns, appeared nervous, fingers fidgeting with an air of apprehension. To Helaena's left, the queen mother, Queen Alicent, exuded a composed and welcoming aura, dressed modestly in a deep green gown with a high neckline. She greeted the guests presented to the table with a warm, formal grace.

On the king’s opposite side sat Otto Hightower, his grandfather and Hand of the King, dressed in his finest attire and nursing his goblet of wine. He acknowledged the arrivals with a knowing nod and polite smile. Lastly, at the end of the table, was Prince Aemond, his outfit dark, a stark contrast to his family's green attire. He was dressed in fine black robes, his legs crossed, and a glass of wine in his left hand. Aemond appeared nonchalant, almost bored, by the parade of nobles before him.

As Maera and Lord Jasper approached the royal table, they demonstrated their respect in the traditional manner. Lord Jasper executed a graceful bow, and Maera, with her heart racing, curtsied deeply. In that moment, she couldn't help but glance up and catch Prince Aemond's piercing gaze. His evident interest lingered on her form as he studied her, from the allure of her bare shoulders, the distinctive silver stripe in her hair, down to the low neckline of her gown. His lips parted ever so slightly as he drank in her appearance, a scrutiny ignited within Maera a whirlwind of emotions: nervousness mingled with a deep excitement in pit of her stomach. Her cheeks flushed as she averted her gaze from the prince and focused her attention on King Aegon and Queen Helaena.

As Lord Jasper delivered the customary formalities to the royal family, it was King Aegon who, true to his often brazen character, seized the opportunity to comment on Maera's appearance.

“What a sight, Mayflower. I am glad to see you are showing off what the Gods have so graciously bestowed upon you,” he bellowed, before taking a very obvious look at the low neckline of her gown, drawing an uncomfortable silence over the table. In response, Maera glanced towards Aemond, whose fiery gaze bore down on his brother with a fierce intensity that could have incinerated lesser men.

Aegon, seemingly chastened by his brother's gaze, cleared his throat and proceeded to offer a formal welcome to Lord Jasper and Maera, expressing gratitude for their presence at the ball. Maera nodded in acknowledgment, and her gaze shifted to Queen Helaena, whose eyes remained downcast, fixed upon the floor.

Maera leaned in slightly towards Helaena and whispered softly, "I'll see you shortly, once the dancing begins." Helaena responded with a shy smile and a nod.

With their greetings concluded, Lord Jasper and Maera separated, each going their own way through the bustling grand hall. Maera was eager for a moment of respite from the whirlwind of the ball, wanting to savor the atmosphere and the grandeur that surrounded her.

However, her brief moment of solitude was short-lived, as she was soon approached by a gentleman slightly older than herself, dressed in the regal colors of House Redwyne - purple and silver. His cuff links, adorned with purple grapes, gave away his House affiliation. He greeted Maera with a respectful bow and attempted to initiate a conversation, though she found herself somewhat annoyed by his overtures. Enduring what felt like an eternity of listening to the Lord drone on about the grape harvest, Maera desperately searched for an escape route from this tedious conversation. She scanned the sea of faces, her eyes finally landing on her father, who was deeply engaged in discussions with other Lords. Gathering her composure, Maera politely excused herself, telling the long-winded Lord that her father had called for her. With a tactful excuse, she all but sprinted across the grand hall, eager to distance herself from the boredom that had besieged her.

Reaching her father's side, Maera was introduced to the group he was entertaining. Lord Swyift, along with his firstborn son, who appeared to be around Maera's age, and Lord Jason Lannister, accompanied by his pregnant lady wife, Johanna. In her most genteel manner, Maera greeted the distinguished assembly, her graceful curtsey conveying her respect. Lady Johanna, with a warm smile, complimented Maera on the beauty of her dress.

Lord Jasper's voice carried with it a note of satisfaction as he remarked, "It has caught the attention of many this evening." His eyes twinkled with a hint of mirth as he added, "Lord Thorne has already expressed an interest in a match."

Maera looked at her father with a puzzled expression, her thoughts racing. Her confusion was evident until Lord Jasper gestured discreetly toward a man across the room. The sight that met her eyes drained the color from her face and filled her with dread. Lord Thorne, a portly and inebriated figure of similar age to the Master of Laws, was swaying unsteadily, blatantly flirting with kitchen servants, and guzzling wine as if there were no tomorrow. A shiver of apprehension coursed through Maera's spine as she silently beseeched the gods that this man would not become her fate. The very idea of a union with such a character filled her with disquiet.

Lord Jason Lannister, resplendent in his noble attire, engaged Maera in conversation, bringing her attention back to the group and offering his praise. "Lady Maera," he began with a courteous smile, "your work in the capital and your ability to assist Queen Helaena with settling into her role has been truly commendable."

Maera accepted the compliment with a graceful nod and responded with polite gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Jason. It has been an honor to serve Her Grace."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Lord Jason deftly transitioned to a topic that piqued Maera's interest. "You know," he mentioned casually, "the Maesters at Casterly Rock have made an intriguing prediction. They believe that my lady wife, is carrying a boy in her current pregnancy." He smiled, a glint of paternal pride in his eyes, placing a hand on Lady Johannas stomach.

Maera's curiosity deepened, and she responded with warmth. "Congratulations, Lord and Lady Lannister. A son would be a great blessing to your House."

However, what followed next caught her completely off guard. Lord Jason turned his attention to her father, Lord Jasper, and continued, "I've been pondering the potential advantages of a match between my yet-to-be-born son and your esteemed daughter, my Lord."

The mention of such a match left Maera momentarily stunned. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she struggled to maintain her composure. The prospect of betrothing herself to an infant was almost too absurd to contemplate. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts and regain her composure. Quickly and discreetly, she reached for a goblet of wine from a passing servant's tray, bringing it to her lips to take a deep, fortifying sip. Her mind raced as she hoped fervently that her father wouldn't entertain the notion of betrothing her to a child who had yet to draw his first breath.

Maera's gaze drifted toward the royal table, which was now nearly empty except for Helaena and Aemond. Helaena, her friend and Queen, seemed to be keeping herself busy by fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist. Maera watched her intently, concerned that Helaena might once again slip into one of her trances, muttering incomprehensible things to herself. On the other hand, Prince Aemond sat there like an enigmatic statue, his eyes locked onto Maera. It was a peculiar feeling, being observed so intently, like a cat studying a mouse before pouncing. Maera was aware of Aemond's introverted nature, but this unyielding gaze, his unwavering attention, it made her feel distinctly uneasy.

Hearing the bards begin to play “The Ballad of Visenya and Vhagar”, Maera turned back to the group of nobles with a polite smile.

"I'm afraid I must keep my promise to Her Grace Queen Helaena for the first dance of the evening. Please excuse me."

With a sense of purpose, she scurried through the elegant crowd towards the royal table. Reaching Helaena's side, Maera gently touched her friend's hand to get her attention. Helaena seemed entranced by the delicate necklace she was fidgeting with, lost in thought. Maera's concern couldn't be concealed as she asked, "Helaena, are you alright?"

Startled back to the present, Helaena quickly nodded and gave Maera a reassuring smile. It was time to join the dance, and together, they made their way to the dance floor.

As the first notes of the song filled the air, the two friends began to twirl gracefully, their laughter rising in harmony with the quartet of musicians. The enchanting dance swept them into a realm of joy, and soon, other lords and ladies joined in. For a brief moment, the war against Princess Rhaenyra seemed a distant memory as the nobles united in a shared celebration.

With the lively dance coming to an end, Maera gracefully escorted Queen Helaena back to her seat, ensuring her comfort. Helaena settled back into her chair, looking somewhat distant, lost in her thoughts once more. Maera couldn't help but worry about her friend's well-being, but there wasn't much she could do at this moment. She offered a reassuring smile to Helaena before stepping back onto the dance floor.

The notes of "Two Hearts That Beat as One" swelled for the next dance, and a gallant young man with mousey-brown locks approached Lady Maera. He was dressed in a striking red doublet adorned with silver fish-shaped clasps, and his deep blue trousers accentuated the outfit. He executed a respectful bow and extended his hand towards Maera. With an amiable nod, he asked, "Lady Maera, may I have the honor of this dance?"

Maera accepted the offer graciously, placing her hand in his as they stepped onto the dance floor. As the music enveloped them, the young lord began to speak in a soft and gentle voice. “My apologies for not approaching you earlier, my Lady. I didn't wish to overwhelm you. You seem to be quite popular this evening."

Maera chuckled at his words as they circled each other as part of the dance, palms raised and touching as shereplied, "Indeed, the prospect of a suitor becoming the Master of Coin seems to have attracted many hopeful Lords."

The young lord introduced himself as Warren Tully, revealing his lineage as another grandson of Lord Grover, the current ruler of Riverrun. Maera's interest piqued, for the Riverlands were known for their political instability, with Lord Grover Tully supporting the Greens while his heir, Ser Elmo, had aligned himself with Rhaenyra's claim. Depending on the outcome of the war, Warren could very well become the next Lord of Riverrun, a prospect that intrigued Maera greatly.

As they danced gracefully across the floor, Maera found herself charmed by Lord Warren's conversation. He playfully inquired, "So, you have been made many offers this evening?"

Maera laughed and sarcastically responded. “Yes, my Lord. I am most fortunate to already have been offered the hand of an old goat and a child yet to be born.”

Warren raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment and remarked, "Those sound like quite tempting offers, Lady Maera."

As Lord Warren moved behind her, one hand on her waist, the other clutching her hand in unison with the other nobles dancing, Maera then playfully asked more directly, "And are you offering a proposal as well?"

Lord Warren chuckled, admitting, "I am offering many proposals at the insistence of my grandfather, Lord Grover. He seems rather eager to further the family line through me if the Greens win the war." He added with a hint of annoyance, "A matter that often vexes me."

Maera laughed gently and sympathized with him, saying, "It seems we have much in common when it comes to being pushed into marriage for the sake of family, duty, and honor."

Their dance concluded with a graceful curtsy from Maera and a bow from Lord Warren. He concluded, "I shall write to your father to express my interest then."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Maera replied, "Please do, my Lord." She watched as he walked away, her thoughts lingering on this new charming suitor who had entered the intricate dance of politics and alliances that surrounded her.

Maera left the dance floor, smiling to herself over her recent interaction, yet her brief moment of respite was interrupted by a voice behind her, one that sent a shiver down her spine. "Are you really so foolish to be charmed by the first pretty words you hear out of a Lord's mouth?"

She turned to find Prince Aemond standing there, his stoic face betraying only the slightest hint of agitation, a look she had become astute at detecting in his violet eye. Maera could not help but admire his appearance this evening. His fine black robes were patterned to resemble the scales of a dragon, each scale meticulously crafted with impeccable attention to detail. The scales seemed to shimmer in the ambient light, giving the impression of a living dragon's hide. Around his waist, a Targaryen sigil belt held his robes in place. The sigil, a bold representation of House Targaryen's three-headed dragon, was wrought in silver and gold, adding a touch of regal elegance to his ensemble.

She offered him a deep curtsy, a customary sign of respect, before responding, "I assure you, Prince Aemond, I was merely being polite."Aemond replied with a noncommittal hum, his demeanor betraying little of his thoughts.

They stood side by side, the atmosphere tense yet oddly charged. Maera decided to break the silence with a more strategic inquiry. "Has your friendship with the Master of Whispers revealed any information about potential suitors I should avoid?" Her question prompted a sly grin to appear on Aemond's lips as he began to scan the room, assessing the lords and their potential scandals and rumors.

Selecting his first victim, Aemond shared his findings in a matter-of-fact tone. "The firstborn of Lord Swyift, whom you were chatting with earlier, is rumored to have many... relationships with his stable boys and squires."

Maera couldn't help but chuckle at this revelation, trying to suppress her amusement behind a delicate hand. Then Aemond led her gaze to Lord Thorne, who had his own share of secrets. Aemond revealed that Lord Thorne had sired a litter of bastards in King's Landing, a number that could rival King Aegon's. Maera put her face in her hand and shook her head, even more disgusted at the Lord’s audacity to ask for her hand, despite his appalling reputation.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn't help but ask, “And what of Lord Warren Tully?” She directed her gaze across the hall which Aemond followed, spying the young lord chatting with Maera’s father. She smiled, admitting to herself that the man was certainly a handsome one, convincing herself in that moment that maybe a marriage with him would not be so unpleasant.

Aemond frowned slightly, his expression growing serious. "You can't be seriously considering him as a prospect, can you, Maera?"

She met his gaze evenly and replied, "Even you, my prince, couldn't argue that it would be an advantageous match for House Wylde." Their conversation hung in the air, a subtle challenge between them as the ball continued around them.

After an awkward few moments, Aemond placed himself in front of Maera before finally sneering,"Se zaldrīzes se klios gaomagon daor rholagon.” The fish and the dragon do not mix

Quick-witted as always, Maera retorted,“Iēdar jelmāzma se klios gaomagon.” Maelstroms and fish do.

Aemond responded, "Ao issi tolī zaldrīzes iēdar jelmāzma kesrio syt hen muña ānogar,” You're more dragon than Maelstrom, thanks to your mother's blood. The statement drew a subtle smile from Maera, but that quickly faded when Aemond unexpectedly reached out, his fingers grazing the necklace hanging at Maera's chest. His touch lingered on her exposed skin, eliciting a rapid acceleration of her heart and a quickening of her breath. As she gazed into his intense violet eye, she felt her emotions whirling into a tempest she couldn't easily dismiss. It was a maddening struggle, trying to bury these confusing feelings beneath a façade of composure, as they stubbornly clawed their way to the surface. It was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull she felt toward him, no matter how hard she tried to push those feelings aside.

A smug smirk played on Aemond's lips as observed the clear affect he was having on Maera. Shifting his attention to her hair, his fingers moved downwards to lightly caress a strand of hair that lay just above her breast. Maera’s heart pounded and she was sure that Aemond could feel it beneath his grasp. He leaned closer to her face, his voice a sultry whisper as he remarked, "The dragon is a truly captivating creature, and the lords of Westeros are unworthy of claiming her." With that enigmatic statement, he turned on his heel and departed, leaving Maera in a state of bewilderment. What bad just happened?

She watched as he returned to the royal table, her thoughts swirling in a tumultuous sea of emotions, uncertain of the depths they would take her.

Notes: Fun fact of the day- the condition Maera has with the white stripe is called Poliosis.

Tags: @marvelescvpe @grungegrrrl @blue-serendipity @ammo23 @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[noelle666]

Tiny fanfic with no title

Heinrix van Calox/Noelle von Valancius Place and time: Lord Captains quarters, right after the "ice scene"

"Together. We're together. That is all I need".

Heinrix was holding his beloved Lord Captain in his arms: his body started to slowly warm up, the scent of her hair helped him to calm down. Noelle raised her gaze and looked into psyker's eyes:

"Heinrix, I know you will probably tell me there is no need to call for healers because you are strong and capable of taking care of yourself, but please, let me take care of you. You will stay with me tonight".

"I am your eternal servant, - Heinrix smiled faintly, - And will do all what is needed".

In several minutes ex-interrogator was standing under warm streams of water; he leaned back against grey and white marble wall of a shower cabin [1] and looked through the glass door: he saw a blurry silhouette of Noelle, she was doing something and then she rushed out of bedroom, probably to the entrance of her quarters. Even though the distance was not that short and the door's glass was translucent, the man noticed her moves were twitchy, filled with a degree of panic. He continued to look through the glass, waiting; it took less than a minute when Noelle appeared in a room again holding somethink which looked like a tray and something was standing on it. Heinrix exited the cabin, he wiped water off his body and covered himself in a towel.

For several years Noelle was a part of an Ecclesiarchy missionary group: they traveled through two large hive-worlds, visited many communities of loyal Emperor servants, rich and poor, those who are in need and those who bathe in wealth. Most of a time her role was to help sick and dying people, she was skilled in medical science and could comfort with kind words and empathy. Priestess knew how to treat hypothermia but was not sure if her methods could work on psyker who almost turned into an ice statue because of his powers. Still, she couldn't just stand and do nothing. Noelle heard footsteps behind her back while she was conjuring over a beverage she believed could helped her beloved at least a little bit.

"Please, take sit on a bed, it'll take only a moment. It is almost ready, I think..."

The last words were spoken quietly and meditatively, Noelle froze next to a table with a slightly raised hand as if she was calculating something in her mind. Heinrix came closer and smelled a citrus scent; he sat on the edge of the bed and observed what was on a tray: a cup with a spoon, steam was swirling above it, next to it a small bowl filled with sugar cubes and the last one was a little fancy saucer with several pieces of a fruit (Heinrix did not know what it was but remembered he saw short trees on Janus covered with the same fruits, but they were smaller and greener - probably still in a process of growth). The woman took a spoon with her thin elegant fingers, a light sound of it hitting porcelain cup made to think about little bells ringing. Noelle took a cup and gave in to Heinrix.

"What is this?"

"Solian tea. [2] Never thought I could ever drink it again, at least not in the closest future. But it seems Mistress Vyatt and I had something in common. It may sound odd to you but I don't really like recaf. I used to drink the most simple and cheap tea but to me it was the best of all drinks".

"I heard Solian one is a very expensive drink and pretty rare".

"Yes, I foung out they grow it on Janus on limited plantations and only for nobles. Sadly, I don't know about its homeland".

Heinrix took a sip: the drink had rich taste, a little bit or bitterness mixed with sweetness of sugar and notes of sour fruit. Differs from recaf he used to drink, but he couldn't say it was bad, maybe not very stimulating but this effect was not needed under present circumstanses. The tea was warm, psyker drank in one gulp as if it was a medicine and returned a cup to Noelle.

"I am sorry if it looks like a torture to you, - Noelle chuckled and put an empty cup on a tray, although her face expression had no notes of fun, - I hope it helps. Tea and lemons or other citruses usually are the best cures for someone who needs to be warmed up. They say these fruits are very rich with vitamins, but I completely forgot their name. Hm, what was it..."

Heinrix noticed that yet again Noelle's movements become twitchy - she was nervous and trying to cover it with a small talk. The man reached out to priestess' hand and pulled her closer, he embraced her and looked at her. Noelle wanted to avert her eyes, but then she looked at Heinrix and touched his cheek: he looked as usual "him" and no one could've ever guessed that about half an hour ago this man could've been dead. Heinrix started to gently caress his beloved's back, he noticed the tip of her nose turned pink, her lips started to tremble and eyes were about to be filled with tears; he put his head to Noelle's chest and she squeezed him in her arms just the way she did when psyker was about to be swallowed by warp's powers.

The man closed his eyes, he was listening to priestess' heartbeat - it was faster than it should be, her heart was like a little bird caged against its will, trying to break free, so passionate and scared. The same heartbeat helped him to see the real world again and not to dive into dark abyss. And her trembling voice, her words:

"Wake up... please".

Heinrix saw Noelle crying for the first time when they shared a dinner together. That evening had to be a merely sweet date for two of them, but one word after another, and her heart cracked. They both knew their bond is more than spending time together whether it is a game of regicide or more intimate moments but no one ever said the most important words because their road sooner or later supposed to be split in two. You cannot build happiness if you are not fully honest. Heinrix could not lose the one and only who gave him this ablsolute happiness and he did what he was avoiding the whole time (not because of cowardness but because he didn't want to hurt Noelle). He opened his heart and told her about his love which was burning in his chest for some time, he dropped the shackles of silence, and the scales have tipped towards his desires and feelings. And yet there was "duty".. That night Heinrix promissed his beloved he will never hurt her, he will never make her cry again. But he failed. His heart sank when he saw frozen tears on Noelle's cheeks, yet he gathered all his will and strenght to remain calm - this is what she needed since she gave all her powers to save her beloved. She needed peace because it is all over, otherwise she could've been broken into many pieces.

Noelle was combing Heinrix's hair with her fingers, slowly she managed to put all her feelings together. Heinrix looked at her and gently kissed, he smiled as if he said to her that there is nothing to be feared of, no need to worry.

Psyker fell asleep as soon as his head touched a pillow: in one moment his eyes closed and he was swallowed by deep slumber, the moment after he opened his eyes, and it was already morning. Noelle, on the other hand, couldn't really sleep: she was awaking almost every hour to check if everything is alright with her beloved, whether he is breathing or if he is tortured by nightmares. Only closer to morning her restless heart and mind fully calmed down.

"He is with me. I am with him. Where the road will lead us matters not, for nothing can tear us apart anymore".

[1] - Noelle asked to install a shower cabin to her bathroom since she is a humble person and sees no need in huge pool of water.

[2] - Solian tea - an expensive variety of tea. Was mentioned in "Eisenhorn. Xenos" novel. Unfortunately, there are no other detailes.

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 31

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30

Warning: angst, darkness, character is in despair - please bare with the sadness of the situation, of course I will always provide a very happy end for my characters. ;)

It has been three days since your arrival in Alabasta, yet the intentions of Crocodile and the circumstances that brought you here remain unclear. The whole situation feels like a bewildering nightmare, leaving you grappling with a sense of confusion and uncertainty. It is as if you have stumbled into a surreal realm where reality and fantasy merge.

In this disorienting state, your mind often drifts back to the previous night, to the intimate encounter shared with Buggy. It was a fleeting moment of liberation, where you felt a newfound sense of control and freedom. The memory of that evening lingers, a stark contrast to the current situation that you are in.

Now, you find yourself seated in a lavishly adorned room. The floor beneath you boasts a gorgeous blend of white and gray marble, while the bed you rest upon is adorned with beautiful silk sheets and an array of luxuriously soft pillows. The opulence of the surroundings stands in stark contrast to the confusion and turmoil within your mind.

Within the room, a spacious closet awaits, filled with an abundance of clothes unlike anything you have ever possessed. Crocodile had insisted you wear the attire of local dancers, garments that exposed your belly and accentuated your décolleté. It was an unfamiliar style, one that made you feel both vulnerable and exposed.

Connected directly to the room was a private bath, adorned with opulence. A large golden bathtub in the middle of the room, of course made of marble. The sink exuded elegance and sophistication. An array of towels, meticulously embroidered with intricate floral designs, unnecessary beauty for your prison. In addition to the lavish amenities, your room boasted more than just the oversized bed and closet. A magnificent bookshelf was placed next to the door, housing a collection of captivating adventure stories, the diaries of former captains, and volumes chronicling the rich tapestry of history.  The curtains at the window are a rich shade of red, crafted from satin, and delicate tassels hold them in place. 

In the confines of the room, you felt like a princess locked within a castle. The door remained securely locked, while iron bars adorned the windows, effectively sealing your fate and preventing any chance of escape. Twice a day, a notorious butler would enter, delivering food on a tray, but your appetite waned, and you found it difficult to eat even a morsel of food or a sip of water. Instead, you remained seated on the bed, consumed by thoughts of Buggy and the haunting question of why he had abandoned you.

Over the past three days, Crocodile had resorted to various tactics in an attempt to break your spirit. From intimidation to fear, manipulation to feeble acts of kindness, he deployed a range of strategies. Upon your arrival, he callously threw you into this unfamiliar room, unsure if you were within a casino or if his tyrannical rule had overtaken the very palace of the nation already. However, such details mattered little to you, as your focus remained fixed on Captain Buggy. Where was he? 

You crawled to the bed upon your arrival and remained there for the duration of that first day. This first day brought a surprising shift in Crocodile's demeanor. He approached with an air of kindness, bearing a tray laden with bread, fruit and meat and an abundance of water. It was the first time since your captivity on his ship that you were afforded the luxury of consuming to your heart's content. However, the sudden indulgence left you feeling nauseous, prompting you to run to the bathroom to vomit all the nutritions out again. Crocodile, perhaps in a rare display of genuine concern, tried to offer you comfort by rubbing your back which you denied him and then he tried running you a soothing hot bath. The bath was a momentary respite but as the night wore on, your tears mingled with the sheets and you were overwhelmed by the lingering pain and longing for Buggy that continued to haunt you.

For the next two days, you maintained a resolute silence, refusing to engage with your captor. Ignoring his presence each time he entered the room only served to stoke his anger, further fueling his frustration. As evening approached, you eagerly awaited his arrival for dinner, determined to demonstrate your unwavering defiance. You had no intention of giving him even the slightest indication that he had gained any control over you.

Though weakened by your circumstances, you recognized that regaining your strength was crucial for formulating an escape plan. You knew that with proper nourishment and restful sleep, your former vitality would be restored. It was only a matter of time before you could once again gather the energy to plot your escape. 

As the door creaked open, you prepared yourself on the bed, instinctively seeking cover and aiming to display the least amount of attention to your predicament. Crocodile walked towards you, dressed in his signature long fur coat, a cigar nestled to the right side of his mouth. However, instead of bringing a tray of food, he presented a transponder snail, placing it before you on the bed sheets.

"You've been stubborn in your refusal to believe me, rejecting my offer to join forces. It seems your faith lies still in the notion that a certain clown will come to your rescue," Crocodile remarked, his voice laced with a mix of intrigue and contempt. "Well, here's your chance to prove yourself wrong."

Reluctantly, Crocodile settled on the bed beside you, causing a surge of vulnerability to course through your veins. The clothes he had provided, having stripped away the shirt and pants you had arrived in, only served to heighten your sense of exposure and unease.

"Come now, don't you want to reach out to your captain?" he taunted, his words twisting your stomach into knots, a sickening sensation that permeated your being.

"How? The Buggy Pirates don't possess a transponder snail..." you protest, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" Crocodile's grin widens, a sinister expression etched upon his face. In that moment, you remember—the day the Marines launched their assault, the fierce commander attempting to drag you away. It was then that Buggy had entered your room that evening, radiating with delight as he proudly announced the acquisition of a transponder snail. The realization dawns upon you, causing a gulp to catch in your throat.

"Do you still believe it was mere coincidence that I found you? How do you think I managed to infiltrate that ship?" Crocodile's words hang in the air, the weight of their implications sinking deep into your consciousness. "Go ahead, call him... His number is still stored in there."

You gaze at Crocodile, still grappling with disbelief, yet doubt gnaws at your heart, chipping away at your resolve. With hesitant hands, you reach for the transponder snail. The buzzing sound fills the room, followed by a familiar voice on the other end, weary yet unmistakably Buggy's. Despite the slight distortion, you recognize the harsh timbre, instantly identifying it as his.

"Crocodile? Hello? What do you want?" Buggy's voice echoes through the speaker, his tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Your attempt to respond falters, a gasp escaping your lips as Buggy mentions Crocodile's name. The speaker slips from your trembling hand, a choked cry caught in your throat.

Tears stream down your face, cascading uncontrollably. "Why...?" you manage to utter, your voice breaking amidst the sobs. In the background, you hear Buggy's voice, now tinged with fear, but his words remain unheard as your anguish consumes you. "Y/n, is that you?" You find yourself unable to respond, your body frozen in place, as Crocodile's laughter fills the air. He cruelly retrieves the speaker and places it back on the snail with a silent, mocking "gatchan."

The sound of his laughter shatters your heart into a thousand pieces. Overwhelmed by sorrow, you collapse onto the pillow, burying your face in an attempt to shield yourself from the tears that stream down your cheeks. The weight of despair engulfs you, and it feels as if all hope and innocence have been irreversibly lost in this very moment.

"I'll leave you alone for a while," Crocodile's voice unexpectedly softens, carrying a semblance of kindness and understanding. But you no longer wish to see him, or anyone else for that matter. The pain is too raw, too consuming. The world around you feels bleak and devoid of solace.

[thedawningofthehour]

Okay, first of making fun of rich people's houses on Zillow. This is actually the tamest house out of the three that made me want to do this.

This house was in Arizona and is like 15 mil and 13,000 square feet.

Entertaining Room That We Absolute Use.

I'm guessing this is either for the two people that are still friends with them or for inviting over other rich couples to show off how rich they are. Look, we have this grand piano here. It has never been used and we have to pay a guy to tune it regularly, but one day little Susie will prove to be a musical prodigy and we can force her to play for people we don't like.

Oh, this is the other side. I actually hate it more now. The other side wasn't my taste, but at least it was scenic. That flooring and those columns are literally just "look I have so much money." Also the effect of Fancy Chandelier is somewhat diluted if you put two of them in the same room.

Featuring Much Used Table and Chair in the background and...what is that supposed to be, like a secretary counter on the left? I can just imagine some lady in an office chair behind that answering the Very Busy house phone.

"This is where Daddy loses his Christmas bonus on poker night."

Okay, I-no, I hate this, I can't pretend not to. I hate the white kitchen trend, I hate marble countertops. They have...they look like brussel sprouts on a tray? As a decoration?

The dual fridges thing might have been cool if the execution was different, but for some reason the design and color just makes it look like it was tacked on, like if-wait. How many ovens are there?

So they have two stovetop ovens there

And what looks like two ovens in between the fridges? Four ovens?!

I mean, the top oven looks like it might be a microwave? I think the bottom might be a proofing drawer for bread, (lol like these people make their own bread) so many the middle is some specialty oven?

Still. A lot for a kitchen that's almost certainly never used.

I don't really have anything to say about this one. I'm just confused as to what it's for.

I'm increasingly suspicious that rich people are just pretending to be human.

Oh, finally, the living room people actually spend time in.

Featuring Exposed Beams That Are Totally Structurally Necessary.

And big TV you need binoculars to watch from the couch and can't be properly seen from a third of the sitting area. Much used dining table there. Bonus Dead Exotic Animal so you know they travel.

"To show off that we have the money for a bar but we don't want to look like alcoholics."

Deadass thought the back of the couch was stone for a minute.

This room isn't too bad-it's extra and they definitely don't need two sets of double doors right next to each other, but it does seem kind of cozy. I mostly left it in as a palate cleanser for what's to come.

Is that...

Yes. Yes it is.

WHY WHY WHY WHY

Why would you put glass double doors on the bathroom?!

What is going on with that ceiling-oh god, someone is going to slip and crack their head right open on those stairs. Maybe this entire house is an elaborate life insurance plot. If you get bored of your fifth wife just tell her to go take a bath and then you're free to marry your mistress of the month.

This would be so goddamn COLD, guess it's a good thing they have that fireplace.

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS SHOWER?! Is it supposed to be a communal shower?!! Why is it so big?! WHY IS THERE A WINDOW?

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY IS THERE A WINDOW.

I will give them this, I do like how they rounded this out. This part isn't bad. I actually do like the tile design, I just...don't like how they used it.

Just in case you're too befuddled by the actual bathing facilities and choose to go "fuck it" and shower outside.

Actually, the shower out here does make sense, they have a pool. If you're in and out of the water all day, do a quick rinse to get the chlorine off and put a coverup on to go eat lunch or whatever. That's reasonable.

All I can think of here is someone trying to put their makeup and hair products down and accidentally knocking them to the floor because they forget that the counter gets thinner.

Also omg the duuuuuuuust.

There's just something about those 'pretend cultured and fancy' columns against the stark white walls and ceilings that I hate. It's so pretentious and fake.

Is it just me or does every single chair look photoshopped in? There's something weird going on with the lighting.

"Do you hate being able to feel your toes? Do you love having cold feet? Then I have one hell of a basement to sell you!"

I feel like those chairs would actually be extremely uncomfortable and you know each one cost more than my car.

No one has ever used this pool.

Seriously, you couldn't swim laps in it. You could only really swim around in the very deep end, kids wouldn't have a whole lot of space where they can touch to play around. Maybe they could take a little kid to the very edge and splash in the water. And by 'they' I mean the underpaid nanny the parents look down on for being Hispanic despite their ad requiring applicants to be bilingual.

Totally Legit Well. Seriously, guys, this is an ancestral home.

Oh, but we're not done. They have like a guest house or pool house?

Wait, why does this kitchen look better than the main house's kitchen? This one I can actually picture someone using.

Look at that sink! Actually made to wash dishes!

(idk what's up with the line of apples in the cabinet tho)

Okay, the pool house is way cooler. I feel like the big house is literally just for show and this is where people actually spend their time. This looks far more comfortable.

Car stables. "Daddy, why do you have so many cars you use twice a year and cost a quarter million each?"

"Well, sweetie, the short answer is your mother is cheating on me and this fills the void in my life."

Okay I'm gonna go make myself a grilled cheese now. Idk if I'll do another one tonight, but this was fun! I love roasting rich people.

[hostclubau]

By Any Other Name

This is an x reader, multi-ending, otome style story.

fem!reader

Summary: Your life is hell, and your parents abandoned you to a literal loan shark. A near death experience has changed the trajectory of things, but is this a blessing? Or an endless fall into things far worse than you had before?

Content Warnings: The host club has an After Hours that's effectively a brothel. There are BDSM themes and the exploration of a lot of kinks. Foul language, canon levels of violence, mature audiences only.

Chapter 3: Introductions

Notes: There are several OCs who work at the club. River belongs to @silkendandelion Jocasta belongs to @leftsidebonfire Mentions: Av Starling belongs to @shaanks // Unaek belongs to LeftSideBonFire

There are more OCs who work at the club - they will be tagged as they appear in chapters ^_^

It took some fiddling to sort out how the shower and bath tub worked. Fortunately, even though it was all fancy, blue still meant cold, and red still meant hot. The water pressure was nice, harsh enough to feel nice while being soft enough you didn’t think you were getting power washed. The soaps, shampoos and conditioners were all pretty subtly scented, and you just went with what you thought was supposed to go together.

Everything looked like it was more expensive than the last thing you touched, but you were trying not to be nervous about it. The tub’s big enough you almost wonder if you can’t just sleep in it, but even in a fancy place like this water will lose its heat. Floating in the middle of the tub you imagine that waking up in cold water would be bad, but for now the heat feels amazing.

“This is insane.” You murmur to yourself. You’re floating in a bathtub. You just finished taking a shower in a bathroom that has gold and silver veining in marble walls. The floor is sealed stone and you could press a few buttons and make your little mini-jacuzzi-pool thing into a hot tub.

A few hours earlier you’d been pressed against rough bricks, mostly certain you were going to die in an alley. Now, at least, you knew you’d make it to another sunrise.

Beyond that though?

The water starts to cool and you get out, letting the tub drain. You dry off, and even use the provided hair dryer to at least get most of the water out of your hair. Pulling on the terrycloth robe that was hanging in the bathroom, even the smallest one was almost too big, you tie it up and head to bed. There’s a little tray with a cup on it and you’re reminded about the grumpy doctor’s orders, pouring yourself a glass of water and drinking it.

Maybe a little faster than he wanted you to, but you didn’t chug it.

Crawling into the bed was a little painful. You were lucky to have a mattress on the floor, so the idea of a box spring felt like luxury already. By the time you scrambled into the middle of the massive bed and sprawled out on top of the covers you were deeply tired. You didn’t make it under the covers when you fell asleep, but the robe kept you plenty warm while you slept.

It’s a soft knock at the door that wakes you up. You didn’t jolt awake like you usually do and you think that maybe comfy beds are a little more dangerous than you like. Pushing yourself up against the stiffness that settled into your injuries since you didn’t even twitch in your sleep, you get sat up in time for the door to open just a crack.

“You awake, kid?” Alvida’s voice asks through the opening.

“Yeah,” you peel the word from your mouth and hope it makes it to the door.

“Can I come in?”

Looking down you tug the robe closed a little more properly and then look back at the door. “Yeah.”

Alvida steps in, carrying a few overstuffed bags. “It’s not a lot, but you should be able to make an outfit from it.” She starts explaining. “Gave me an excuse to clean out my attic. The bras and underwear are new though - I got you a few different sizes in case you were wearing a binder or something.”

“New?” The word escapes you before you can stop it and you shake your head while getting off the bed. “Ah, sorry, thanks. I mean it. I wasn’t looking forward to putting last night’s clothes back on.” You admit walking over to her.

“We can go shopping together properly after you get settled in a little better.” Alvida offers. “Nami, Av, and Unaek can come too. Koala too maybe, she’s a little touch and go with shopping.”

“Why-.” Be so kind to you? Why say it so nonchalantly? Why, why, why, “… so many people?”

“Eh, it can be more fun that way. With other people around it makes it easier to accept gifts vs picking stuff out for yourself.” She doesn’t look at you as she says it, but you feel like you’re getting called out. “Besides, Nami needs a crowd, and you want her with you if you go shopping by default. She gets such good deals you’d think she really had just up and stolen it.”

“I didn’t think anyone who worked here would be poor.” You say, looking through the first bag nearest you.

“Oh she’s not poor,” Alvida laughs. “She just goes hard for the good bargains. Relentlessly. It’s almost like a kind of therapy for her.”

“Huh. Alright then.” You mutter absently, pulling out different pieces of clothes and starting to put together something to wear. You were used to cobbling something decent from almost nothing, whenever Arlong didn’t just hand you a full outfit or uniform, and were pretty good at it. Enough to blend in at least.

“I can bring breakfast up here for you, or you can come down and eat at the bar. We’re not open yet, so it’s just the openers and some of the cell mates.”

“Cell mates?” You question, looking over at her.

Alvida smiles. “Joint used to be a prison.” She points up. “Ten floors total. The first three floors were remodeled entirely, that’s the club proper. The ceiling in the main area seems stupidly high because three prison levels are almost four residential stories. But that allowed for all the needed customizations, and then this floor is the VIP guest floor.

“It’s also where the main offices are, but the owners aren’t going to pop out of the walls like daisies, so don’t get nervous going from where ever to here.” She clarifies and you scoff.

“Floors six to ten had the least amount of remodeling. Clusters of cells were combined and they were turned into apartments. They’re pretty swank, if not a little kinky if you think about it for too long. Lots of the workers live there, rent’s cheap, and there’s a certain level of security staying above The Club.”

“And y’all call those people cell mates?”

“Lovingly,” Alvida says with a grin. “Lots of people here were either pirates or are related to ‘em, so there’s a certain kind of vibe when it comes to the humor.”

You snort, unsure if you really know what normal is in any capacity. You should fit right in with the average worker in The Club, if nothing else.

“I’ll… come down for breakfast. I’m going to be meeting people one way or another.” You admit. The idea doesn’t have you leaping for joy, but so far no one you’ve met is unreasonable, so you’re not worried. You don’t think Shakky would put up with anyone like that in the first place.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then,” Alvida says, stepping away. “Just come down to the bar and Katakuri’ll get you sorted.”

You don’t ask who Katakuri is, and Alvida doesn’t hang around to answer you. You figure it’ll either be painfully obvious, or it’ll be just as easy to ask someone when you get downstairs. It takes a couple tries to find a bra that fits, but you’re not surprised that one of them does. So far it seems like this place is full of competent people, and that gnaws at you a little, but you shove it away for now. There’s nothing to be done except go with the flow at this point.

The jeans are baggy, but not too long or heavy. You liked the feel of a long-sleeved shirt the most, but the neckline cut across your shoulders it was so low, so you put a t-shirt with a graphic on it that caught your eye over top of it.

Sitting down to put on socks your breath catches in your throat. They’re new. Thick and soft and there’s no holes or stains. The clothes felt weird too, like they were just as new, even though Alvida said they were from her attic. It was possible she just took real good care of her things, she struck you as the type to be good at sewing just so she could fix something to her own standards.

You couldn’t remember the last time you and your clothes were clean at the same time. Last Christmas maybe.

“Some kind of emotional warfare or something.” You grumble to yourself, pulling the socks on and getting your shoes on before you head downstairs.

The Club at eight something in the morning is very different from how it looked last night. There’s the soft scent of cleaning solutions and freshly vacuumed carpets in the air when you first get off the elevator. The interior lights are a little brighter, a gentle pale blue instead of the pinkish red vibe last night. The music’s more chill too, but it might be just because it’s not open yet.

Nothing else really looked any different. It was amazing what changes lighting and music could do to a place.

Only one person was behind the bar when you made it downstairs. He was tall. Tallest person you think you’d ever seen in your life and it was actually impressive he could move around behind the bar and not take out rows of empty glasses.

A white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a few buttons tastefully undone with a vest pulling it all together. Dress slacks, half-gloves and it looked like he was wearing a custom silk face mask that covered his nose and mouth, leaving just his eyes and cropped magenta hair exposed.

“Uh… Katakuri?” You question and he nods.

“You must be the guest.” His voice is even, smooth, and a little deep. He’s probably just as good at selling drinks as he is getting people to stop when they’ve had too much.

“Yeah, uh, Alvi said to come here for breakfast?” The question barely leaves your lips and he nods toward the bar, indicating for you to sit, so you do.

“Coffee?” Katakuri prompts and you nod.

“Please.”

You start to ask what they have for breakfast when a red head in sharp sunglasses comes out of the kitchen. He walks straight toward you like you already knew one another, and gives you a big, sharp, toothy smile.

Part fishman? You feel your hackles raise and immediately shove them back down. You decided some years ago that Arlong and his crew weren’t going to make you into some kind of racist asshole.

He sets a plate down in front of you as Katakuri puts a cup of coffee, and a glass of water, nearby.

“Omurice!” The red head declares. “It’s all I’m allowed to make, but Thatch says it’s good enough to be served. Oh! if you’re allergic to eggs or rice or something I can get someone else in the kitchen to make ya something different, no hard feelings or anything.”

“Ah, no this… should be fine.” You manage. It’s a bit too much for first thing in the morning, but whoever Thatch is, maybe getting his approval is a big deal. “Thanks, uh…”

“Shachi.” Katakuri says, the smallest hint of irritation in his voice.

“Oh! Right, sorry sorry.” The young man lifts his glasses up, flashing a pair of deep green eyes at you to go with his broad smile before bowing. “Shachi, at your service, honored guest.” He straightens back up, putting the glasses back in place. “Seriously, if you want something else, don’t hesitate to ask for it.”

Shachi gives you and Katakuri a short nod before heading back into the kitchen.

You look up at the big guy behind the bar. “Honored guest?”

“First time Shakky’s declared someone her guest since I’ve been here.” He answers evenly as you dig into your breakfast.

“Wow, this is delicious.” You mutter the words, but you’re honestly shocked by how good it is. “Thatch must be a real bastard if that guy can cook this good and it’s all he’s allowed to make.”

Katakuri makes a noise like a grunt and when you look up you’re almost positive he’s smiling from behind the mask.

“He’d cry if you told him that.”

You laugh at the remark. “Which he?”

“Both.” Katakuri answers and you almost choke trying not to laugh.

A beautiful young man with dark skin and long wavy black hair walks up to the bar, him and his companion regarding you with polite, and curious smiles. She’s a little shorter than him, athletic, with short cropped hair, a section of it is blonde while the rest is brown. From your perspective they’ve both walked out of a photo-shoot even if their uniform are just slate grey tops and black pants.

“You must be the guest. I’m River,” he says, introducing himself as he extends a hand to you. You’re still eating so you just kind of look at it and then back up to him. The awkward look on his face speaks for itself and you give him a wary smile.

“Pleasure.”

“Jocasta,” the lady with him says. She doesn’t extend her hand, patting River comfortingly as she lowers his hand for him. “Are you better with faces or names?”

“…Faces.” You admit after a moment.

“Good, we wear name tags during shift so you’ll learn people’s names eventually. If you tell Kata the basic appearance of who you’re looking for he’ll steer you right, so don’t let the flood of introductions worry you.” She offers up.

“You’re… hosts then?” You question, figuring it’s way too early for any escorts to be around.

River pales, which is impressive for someone who looked more Alabastan than local, but his chestnut skin seems to loose some of it’s saturation. Maybe it’s just the semi-horrified look on his face.

“Heavens no.” He answers. “I’m a stagehand mostly. I do some dances, but I couldn’t host.”

“I help backstage and in the front of the house getting people checked in.” Jocasta explains, a big grin on her face. At the least she seems to have taken your confusion as a compliment.

“You’re both so pretty, though. Him especially.” You remark bluntly, pointing to River with your fork.

“Oh.” Jocasta’s fair features flush and River preens a little, the color coming back into his face.

“Leave her alone so she can eat, you two.” A gruff voice says and you turn to see two very tall, broad shouldered guys dressed in black coming over to your little gathering.

One’s a little taller than the other and looks incredibly bored, with dark eyes and dark cropped hair. The one with him has barbed wire tattoos everywhere as far as you can see, pale blue hair in dreads that he’s already pulling back and tying into place.

“Heat,” he says simply and then nods his head toward the other. “Wire. Bouncers by day, kitchen staff by night.”

“Other way around.” Wire grumbles, rolling his eyes. It’s probably all the effort he can muster.

You incline your head. “The guest.” You offer up, unsure how bringing up your lack of name would go this early. You hear Wire grunt and see the ghost of a smile on his lips. The dry humor is appreciated, it seems.

“C’mon Jo, help me get some omelets going.” Heat says to Jocasta and the two head off to the kitchen. River stands there awkwardly for a moment longer before Wire practically lifts him up and walks off with him.

A yawn pulls your attention down the other side of the bar and you see a sleepy young blonde man looking back at you. There’s an impressive scar on his face, but it’s seemed to have spared his eye, as two eyes take you in. Katakuri sets a cup of coffee nearby even though you didn’t hear anything but a yawn come from him and the young man gives you a smile.

Straightening up he takes a few heavy chugs of the coffee and sighs. It would be dramatic under any other circumstances, but he seems genuinely relieved to have the coffee. If there was anything about him that was dramatic currently, it was the ascot, three-layer suit and leather gloves that he was wearing.

He looked like he was getting ready to go work at a hedge fund or lawyer’s office.

“Sabo,” he offers, inclining his head. “You’re Girl.” He manages to say the designation like an actual name so smoothly you’re not sure how to react.

“Uh… yeah.”

“I,” he begins, emphasizing the word. “Actually am a host… and escort.” Covering his face with a gloved hand he yawns, drinking more of the coffee before continuing. “And I provide legal services when needed. Even if that means staying up all night. Ah, Kata, is there a spare room down here?”

“Four’s unbooked.” Katakuri replies. “I’ll come get you in a couple hours.”

“Divine,” Sabo hums, draining the rest of the coffee. He walks by you, stopping and leaning in just a little. “Don’t stare, dear guest.”

“I… wasn’t?” You tilt your head in confusion as Sabo walks away and see him jerk his thumb toward the front. You don’t even have to turn and look, because someone shouts at Katakuri.

“Oi! Is Marco in?” The voice is rough and angry, like the person speaking is looking to beat Marco within an inch of his life, whoever that is.

You turn and look as Katakuri answers him and if it wasn’t for Sabo’s warning your eyes might’ve fallen out of your head.

Half as wide as he is tall, and fuck he’s tall, is a pale skinned, red-headed behemoth of a man stalking toward the bar like he has half a mind to pick it up. He was shorter than Katakuri, but you were pretty sure the red-head could pick him up too while he was at it, just out of spite.

Aside from looking like a hoodlum he was gorgeous. His skin was flawless, and the deep blood-red lipstick suited him well. He was mostly topless, a few seemingly random necklaces on, all made of leather and metal, with the same style of bracelets on his arms. Tight jeans and matte black boots finished the look - it was hard not to stare.

“He’s in.” Katakuri answers, and the large angry man’s expression shifts from aggravation to a big grin. His bright eyes move away from the barkeep to you, and you look back.

“Wanna take a picture, darlin’?” He offers and you grin.

“Rather have enough time to commit those abs to memory,” you retort, turning back to your breakfast.

He laughs. “Fuck yeah, that’s the kind of shit I like to hear.” Sitting down next to you, everything about his body language says you have his attention. “I’d wonder if you could afford me, sweetheart, but hells for a set of lips like that I’d be willing to negotiate.”

“Eustass,” Katakuri’s voice has an edge to it, and your new friend turns to look at him. “She’s Shakky’s guest.”

“Ah. Well, you probably could afford me then.” He says with a grin. “Eustass Kid, at your service, honored guest.” Kid says the words with decorum and a wink, but his expression is far from proper.

You let your eyes slide down his abs and back up. Getting a closer look you realize he’s covered in hickies and scratches. You wonder idly if Marco gave them to him, but decide not to ask. Kid seems perfectly content to let you look.

“I’d love to stay and play,” He says as your eyes make it back up to his. The salacious grin on his face seems to want to just eat you alive. “Maybe another time, honored guest.”

“Mm,” you hum, giving him a smile as he gets up and leaves while you return to your breakfast.

“Is it always this busy in the morning?” You ask idly, not even really sure Katakuri’s still hanging around where you are.

“Usually worse.” The answer comes from a new voice and you look over to see someone a couple seats down. He’s got a newsboy cap on that’s pulled down almost to his nose.

“Thought you were off today, Penguin.” Katakuri says.

Penguin smiles and stretches. “Yeah. Shakky asked me to come in and cover Sabo’s first slot so he could get a little more sleep. No one needs him speaking in tongues to a guest again.”

Again?

Katakuri grunts and inclines his head to the side. “He’s in number four, if you want to wake him up once you’re done.”

“Perfect.” Penguin hums before coming over a little closer. “It was a pleasure, miss.” He gives you an easy crooked grin, looking up at you from under the brim of his hat. Despite the darkness around his eyes from the cap the deep blue irises are clear.

The act and the words - you didn’t even say anything to him directly, but somehow the farewell is smooth and not at all akward - has the heat rising in your face.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. The crooked grin turns into an almost shy smile and he steps away, heading toward the kitchen. Resolved to finish eating your breakfast, you were convinced the club’s entire staff was decidedly too gods-be-damned good looking.

It made sense, probably, given the whole concept of hosts and escorts and such. Shakky was beautiful in a way that seemed both completely otherworldly, and also totally effortless. Maybe she had like some kind of devil fruit power that gave her an aura or something that made everyone around her beautiful.

Maybe it was black magic.

Maybe people just looked better in general if they weren’t threatening to throw you off a building every other week.

After you finish up your breakfast, Jocasta returns with two other girls. One’s about her height with a mass of curly hair and a disposition that’s so cheerful you half expect her to burst into actual sunlight. The other has cropped orange hair and a more tempered smile, but they both look nice enough. All three are in similar styled clothing, and Jo introduces them.

“This is Ikkaku and this is Koala,” she says, motioning to each in turn. “We thought we could give you the sixty-four beri tour if you wanted.”

“Not yet.” Katakuri says from behind the bar, looking at you when you turn back toward him. “Shakky says to come up to the office when you’re done eating. Vi should be down- ah, there she is.”

You follow his gaze to a tall young lady approaching the rest of you. She’s tan like River, with powder blue hair and bright eyes. Where as everyone else was in some kind of uniform, she seemed to be dressed a step above, though the running theme was still there, and along with her pencil skirt and button up blouse, she wore a vest.

You notice a pin on the vest and look back over to Katakuri to see a similar, but slightly different one. You thought you might have seen something like it on Penguin too, but weren’t sure. Sabo wasn’t in uniform and Kid was shirtless. Everyone else said they were working behind the scenes, so maybe it had to do with something else.

Vivi nods at the others before smiling at you. “It would be my honor to escort you to the office, Miss Girl.” She states, saying your “name” as easily as Sabo had.

“Uh, sure.” Looking over at Jocasta you aren’t sure what to say. “Later?”

Jo smiles. “Sure, and hey, you might get the sixty-four million beri tour from the Owners, so don’t feel bad if that happens.”

“We can still give you the cheap tour later,” Ikkaku grins. “Seeing The Club in different ways is good for you.”

“Sure,” you manage something of a smile as you follow along with Vivi. The hardest part, if you ended up staying, was going to be getting used to genuinely friendly people.

“I hope breakfast was satisfactory.” Vivi questions as you head back to the elevator you used to get to your room.

“Oh yeah, that was the best breakfast I think I’ve ever had.” You answer. “I think I met like a dozen people too. Nice buncha folks you got here.”

“That’s good to hear. I think Shakky was worried you’d get overwhelmed.”

“Huh? What, oh no, crowds ain’t nothing. I didn’t exactly play beri-poker with anyone, but they didn’t like, toss me in a box or something and only let me out when they needed me.”

“That’s… quite specific.” Vivi says sheepishly.

“Eh, Arlong threatened it a couple times, I guess it stuck.” You shrug.

Vivi stops at the beginning of a long hall that was on the other side of the elevator from the direction of your room. She points to a painting that has three people on it. You recognize Shakky, so you imagine the other two must be the other owners. It looks very much like it was commissioned specifically for the reason Vivi was about to demonstrate.

“You’ve met Shakky, but she’s technically the primary owner. The other two don’t make club-wide decisions without her say. Next is Sir Crocodile,” she indicates a severe looking man with a gnarly scar across his face. You did not need to ask why that was his name. “He handles the finances and balances Shakky and Rayleigh.” She points to the old man in the painting. Despite being older than the other two, there’s a youthful vibe about him. You imagine he gets into all sorts of trouble.

“Rayleigh is the buffer between them and the clients. Usually people will meet with Rayleigh. They’ve got to win him over first to have any hope with the other two.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the rundown, but why tell me all this?”

“Two reasons: I don’t know why you’re going in there, and this could be useful. But I know that Arlong is coming to join the meeting, and he knows everyone in there. It’s only fair you know as much as I can tell you in the next few minutes.” Vivi answers.

“I’m going in there because Arlong almost killed me at the back of your club last night.” You answer flatly, watching her eyes go wide for a moment. “Shakky said she’d buy my debt, and made Arlong leave.”

Vivi goes quiet for a moment and then smiles, turning down the hall toward the large doors awaiting you. “If there’s a seat next to Sir Crocodile, I recommend you sit there, honored guest.”

“Sure… uh, why?” You question, following her down the hall.

“Of the three he has the least patience. If Arlong approaches you, he’ll have to get closer to Crocodile, and the boss might kill him just for that.” She answers with a bright smile on her face.

[faerunsbest]

2nd trimester,

cravings

Danis tells Rolan how the pregnancy will effect him as well

2nd trimester, cravings

Rolan lays in bed, soft and warm. He smiles to himself as light flits through the long curtains that shield them from the givings of massive windows. Little lances of light dart across the bed as the heavy fabric sways,a thin golden mean lands across her belly. As it highlights the soft round bump of her stomach he decides to sit up only to crawl over her and place the side of his face to her stomach. As he rests himself there, he feels a soft hand in his hair. She wakes to the feeling of his ear to her belly and smiles to herself. 

He grins wide, lightly chuckling when he feels a little thump. A tiny little kick, at the moment they’re few and far between but he lives for them. He looks up across her stomach to see her sleepy face and closed eyes, knowing very much she’s awake but still sleepy.

“Feeling well this morning?”

“Mmmm”

He hums while petting his hair, occasionally stroking over his horn as she does. They remained that way together, Rolan found himself so at ease he began to pur softly against her stomach. The light found its way to them again, gliding across his face. Reminding him to wake.

 With a soft grumble he got himself up, gave a small kiss now that she’d fallen back asleep and went to dress himself for the day.

Quietly he snuck out of the room, waving at Lia who prepared the front counter for the day. She waved back as he strolled by amiably, as he had been the last few weeks. Rolan strolled down the stairs into the kitchen where Cal flipped a pancake.

“Ha! I beat ya finally!”

Cal wagged the spatula at him, it had been Rolan down here every day for almost two months first thing every morning. Rolan gave a wry smile

“Don’t like my cooking anymore?”

“Ah shut it- I made them weird like she’s been wanting.”

He pointed to a short stack of cakes with red marbling on a wooden plate, the porcelain plates scraping seemed to make her insane no matter how many people were in the room. Rolan set down a fork by it before setting the plate on a tray where he prepared a cup of tea. Two sugars and a drop of cream.

 In another bowl he went about whipping the cream with vanilla sugar and a drop of chile sauce. No one but her would eat it but if that's what she wanted he'd make sure she got it. Once the tray set up perfectly, Rolan paused to look at cal setting three other plates with more mundane fixings. As he looked at his brother he was rather suddenly struck with a pang of guilt.

“Cal”

“Yea?”

“Thank you…for everything.”

Cal blinked looking over at him in surprise, he looked at Rolan with deep concern.

“Are you okay?”

Rolan stared at the tray he had for his wife and suddenly felt heavy. He looked over to Cal, a strange forlorn expression sitting where there was such warm joy just a moment ago.

“I just, I never said thank you.”

Cal shrugged, feeling slightly anxious as set down cutlery on the three plates.

“It’s just breakfast..”

“Cal, you… I don't think I treat you fairly…so thank you for staying when you don’t have to.”

For a moment they stared at each other Rolan walked over, tray in hand and just like he did when Cal was so much smaller, he dropped a small kiss to Cal's forehead before heading out the kitchen door.

As Rolan walked off to make sure Dwylla had her strange breakfast, Cal stood frozen in place. The last time he’d been given one of those he was about twelve and so incredibly overwhelmed at the time. 

And now he felt much the same.

He wiped his face and laughed before getting the tea prepped, that pregnancy must be affecting his brother too somehow.

Upstairs Rolan found the bed empty and the soft sound of water shifting in the tub just out of sight. He set the tray down on the bedside table before going into the bathroom and watching Dwylla come up from the bubbly water. She gave a cheeky smile

“You always leave such a mess.”

His face flushed with warmth while he reached over to a stack of clean towels on an open shelf nearby. Why must she tease this way?

“If you wish me to stop, then I shall do as you wish.”

She stepped out of the tub entirely exposed for him, Rolan wrapped her up in her favorite towel. He wasn't sure why she liked this one so much but she to like it specifically when he dried her off with this one. It didn't matter, why didn’t matter. The only thing that matters to him as he dries her off, his hands gliding all over through the thick terry cloth is that she keeps that little smile.

  After he’s properly dried her off, he makes sure to press several kisses to her stomach, again pressing his ear to listen.

A few minutes later Dwylla sat cross legged in bed  happy as can be eating her breakfast while Rolan dried, brushed and braided her hair. Everyday is like this. He knew he should be upstairs in his study working on something or another but in his mind the work would be there later, he only had this right now.

“Are you going to be alright for dinner this evening?”

“I shall be fine I think.”

Another kiss to her forehead and he got up to take her empty plate and head back out. She seemed to enjoy just prowling around the tower, exploring it as if there was a prize to be found. In truth she’d opened many doors he didn’t know were even there let alone locked.

—---

After dinner when Vera and Bex chatted with a more pliant Dwylla, Rolan found himself alone with Danis as Lia and Cal again had the kids in the courtyard. The two sat on the opposite end of the lounge listening to the others prattle on.

“...You got sick too didn’t you?”

Rolan looked over at Danis confused.

“What do you mean?”

“She just stopped being sick in the mornings right?”

“Yes…”

“You didn’t mention it…but I know you got sick too.”

Rolan looked away a bit embarrassed with himself.

“Yes.. I'm not sure what was causing it although it seemed to pass when her morning sickness did. So I suppose I am grateful. Is that normal?”

Danis huffed and scratched his head, nervous as he went on.

“No, I guess not but when Bex gets like that I get it too. I mean… i don't really have a lot to compare it to but no one else ever mentioned it. Though we didn’t really sit around talking about that part.”

“...Cal assumed I had made myself sick as I tend to worry. It’s happened before.”

“It’s different, listen I don't know how to explain things but youre doing all this to learn what to expect based on what happened to us right?”

“Indeed.”

Rolan looked at Danis who seemed to be changing color with rising embarrassment.

“Well, this whole thing, it does stuff to you too- it’s not just her.”

“Such as?”

“You don't leave here much so I don't know how often it’ll happen but.. You're gonna wind up-”

Danis grimaced as he struggled to find the words.

“Jealous, I guess? It's- it’s when other men come near her you might get angry and less reasonable.”

“Possessive?”

Rolan looked at the other three and realized Danis had never gone near her by himself, was this why? He looked over at Danis who seemed to be squirming in place.

“Yea- that.”

Danis looked at Rolan who seemed nonplussed, he frowned at him.

“Listen, I know you're smart and strong and all this crap but this whole things gonna do weird shit to you too- it doesn't matter that you're rich and you have all this crap.”

Rolan blinked surprised with the bite in Danis tone, Danis looked away. 

“Should I be worried?”

“I don't know, everyone else seems to think it's great but I always feel like shit afterward.”

“After what?”

Danis took a deep breath, clearly getting to the part that was most embarrassing.

“There's a time, it’s probably soon for you guys. Its- it just happens one day youre gonna look at her and just be desperate. Its like you cant stop”

“Danis, stop what?”

“Sex gods dammit”

Danis crossed his arm, pressing his back to the seat and glowering, his face flushed with color.

“... i don't understand”

“You, just get overwhelmed and its like you can't really stop or think and you just have to do it.”

Rolans eyes went wide as he glanced at Bex with deep concern.

“You mean it becomes something of an uncontrollable urge… “

Danis caught the tone and sunk low in his seat.

“Yes.”

“Danis…”

He looked to Rolan surprised with the amount of panic and worry on Rolans face. A light bulb went off and sat bilt upright waving his hands in defense.

“Not like that! I don’t- I’ve never hurt her or anything, it's just.. She looks at you and you.. You have to.”

Rolan sat back a bit calmer though still moderately concerned as Danis tried to continue.

“She's gonna look at you and it's just like being overwhelmed.”

Now Rolan looked at him a bit embarrassed.

“Is that not normal under regular circumstances?”

 Danis looked at him with a lopsided smile.

“Yea, but it's different.. I don't know how to explain it, I guess. You’ll find out.”

“Why does it make you feel guilty?”

Danis looked over to see Bex laughing, a hand on her chest as Vera went on about something or another.

“I just, I love Bex…I love her so much and that's what I want her to feel. I don’t ever want her to think that's all I want from her. But if I dont get away from her when it happens I’m worried that's what she’ll think. And I know she gets … tired before me so .. I gotta leave her alone or I won't… behave… and I tried. I tried so hard to stop but..”

He trailed off looking miserable while Rolan sipped his tea and thought.

“That sounds like a pheromone.”

“What?”

Rolan set down his teacup and grabbed the book he’d been taking notes in, Danis watched curiously while Rolan flipped to a page filled with timelines.

“Around when does it happen and it is at roughly the same time every time?”

Danis looked in the book tapping the early part of the second trimester timeline.

“It's usually a little after she starts eating weird things- with the cravings.”

Rolan pursed his mouth shut.

“Soon indeed…”

The women paused and looked over to see Danis and Rolan looking though his notes and laughing nervously.

[sweethoneyrose83]

Can you do Glamrock Freddy cupcakes?

 Glamrock Freddy Cupcakes

Ingredients: - 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour - 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder - 1/2 teaspoon salt - 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened - 1 cup granulated sugar - 2 large eggs - 1 teaspoon vanilla extract - 1/2 cup milk - Food coloring (orange, blue, and red)  - Cupcake liners

For the frosting: - 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened - 2 cups powdered sugar - 2 tablespoons milk - 1 teaspoon vanilla extract - Food coloring (orange, blue, and red)

Instructions: 1. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a muffin tray with cupcake liners. 2. In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. 3. In a separate large bowl, cream together the softened butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. 4. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, then stir in the vanilla extract. 5. Gradually mix in the dry ingredients, alternating with the milk, until the batter is smooth. 6. Divide the batter equally into three bowls. Add a few drops of orange food coloring to one bowl, blue food coloring to another, and red food coloring to the third bowl. Mix until well combined. 7. Spoon the colored batter into cupcake liners, alternating the colors to create a marbled effect. 8. Bake in the preheated oven for 18-20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. 9. Remove the cupcakes from the oven and let them cool completely before frosting.

For the frosting: 1. In a bowl, cream the softened butter until fluffy. 2. Gradually add the powdered sugar and continue to mix until well combined. 3. Stir in the milk and vanilla extract until the frosting is smooth and creamy. 4. Divide the frosting into three bowls. Add orange food coloring to one bowl, blue to another, and red to the third bowl. Mix until the desired colors are achieved. 5. Using a piping bag or a knife, frost the cooled cupcakes with the colored frosting, creating a decorative design.

And there you have it! Glamrock Freddy Cupcakes ready to enjoy.

[star-spacer]

Let's Go Fishing!

Adashino x reader x Ginko (can be read as platonic or romantic)

You and the boys take a dip in the river. When you're half yokai and have inhuman reflexes, a few fishes aren't a problem for you.

Summer heat was the worst heat.

Second only to the heat of drought-dried reeds going up in flames and the burning tinder of beloved houses, the summer heat pressed down upon everything, rendering the far-off mountain tops into hazy, quivering mirages. Your yukata stuck to your skin uncomfortably as you shifted from your spot on the wooden floor. The rhythmic pounding of Ginko’s mortar and pestle sounded through the air and you groaned, turning your head to look at him.

“How can you stand to work in this heat?”

“‘M used to it,” he grunted. “One time I went with a guy to chase down a rainbow. This was during that heatwave we had a while ago so we had to travel during the hottest time of the day to catch up to the rainclouds.”

“Yikes,” you muttered. “Can’t imagine doing that at all.”

Ginko tilted his head, one single emerald eye looking at you through the haze of his cigarette smoke. “Then what’d you do during the heatwave then?”

You grinned lazily at him, swiping the sweaty baby hairs off your forehead. “Why I slept, of course! I’d find some river bank, a nice shady tree, and I’d sleep in its branches.”

“Wish all of us would have that luxury,” he grunted, lifting the pestle and tapping it against the side of the marble pestle. Fine golden grains shifted around as he tilted it into a vial, carefully scraping the powder into it with a stiff reed. Once done, he plugged it up with a cork and searched for something around him. Spotting your lazy form sprawled out where you were, he pointed to a stack of labels next to you.

Ginko pointed at them. “Hey, can you hand me those?”

A flick of your fingers summoned a gust of wind, sending the paper fluttering past you and toward the Mushishi. They danced around his form and he deftly plucked them from the air, swiping a brush and ink from his cabinet and popping the ink bottle open. With a deft hand, the mystery vial soon received a label as he wrote it on the paper you sent.

“What’s that?” You hummed.

“Pollen from flowers that the Usobuki frequent,” Ginko hummed. The familiar name was that of the butterfly mushi he told you about, one that would make those afflicted by it fall asleep with it until a false spring started. 

It was the same one responsible for the summer and spring that he went missing in when you search until your feet bled and your voice gave out from yelling his name. So hearing that he was dealing with it again made your hackles raise, a dangerous look on your face.

Ginko didn’t notice, too busy tucking the bottom away into his little medicine cabinet. “The mushi itself puts people to sleep but I discovered that if a small dose of the flower pollen is taken with water, it could be an effective sleep remedy, especially for mushi-related problems.”

“I see.” The thought of a sleeping draught sounded appealing because, despite all the jokes you make about naps, any semblance of sleep for you was haunted by memories you’d rather forget. You opened your mouth, almost tempted to ask him for a bit but hesitated.

Ginko glanced at you, a verdant eye picking up the expression on your face. “Hm?”

“I–”

The shoji door slammed open, Adashino behind it using his foot to move the screen. “Drinks here.”

You did a complete shift, hiding your turmoil as you cheered and flipped over to your front, thin yukata riding up to what would’ve been an indecent length if you were an upstanding citizen in society. Adashino didn’t say anything but groaned as he set down the tray and sat next to you. Ginko snuffed out the cigarette, allowing the smoke to waft away so it wouldn’t bother you before shuffling closer. Though it still lingered on his person as he sat down with you and Adashino, it thankfully didn’t bother you like usual.

The dark-haired man took off his lens and began polishing the circle of glass.“I knew it would get hot so I put some amazake in to chill in the icebox. There’s also ice in there too.”

“Thanks, Adashino! Maybe we can have some cold soba later then.” Propping your head up in one arm, you reached for the cups filled with the fermented rice liquid as the other did too. The creamy, sweet taste of the drink filled your mouth as you took a sip and you sighed happily. “Ahh, Ginko, what’s the use of going at each other’s throats about who’s doing what in the heat when it’s Adashino who’s the privileged one? He’s got a nice big house and an icebox of all things.”

“Being a doctor, and living by the waterfronts has its perks,” Adashino replied dryly. “I do say that you two are always welcomed to stay here.”

Ginko simply took a pointed, obnoxious sip of his rice drink, letting the noise draw out in the hazy air. You snorted and Adashino shot a dirty look at you both. Quiet filled the hot air as everyone settled down to enjoy their drinks, accompanied by the sounds of nature around you all. Every breath you took filled your lungs with uncomfortable warmth and you cursed the neverending sun.

The calmness of the summer day brought back long-faded memories of your mother teaching you how to fish in the stream, helping fight off the heat and simultaneously bringing food home for the day. The thought of cooling down made you give a wistful sigh as you finally sat up. “I could go for a dip right now…”

Then the thought hit you and you gasped, sitting up straigh and making the other two look at you with startled–if not slightly irritated–expressions.

You pushed your sweaty hair back from your face, eyes alight in excitement. “The fishermen should be done for the day, right? Then we won’t be bothering anybody if we go to the river to cool off then. You also said you wanted to get some fish for later so I can catch some too.”

Ginko raised his eyebrow. “We don’t have a boat though.”

“I can swim,” you volunteered excitedly. “I would love to be in the water right now.”

Adashino leaned back on his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. “Hmmm… I think that’ll be alright. Besides, I won’t mind spending a little time in the water.”

You popped to your feet excitedly, eagerness overtaking the sluggish haze of the heat.

“Come on! My mom–I was taught how to fish when I was younger. With the fish that the Suiko’s body brought in, I can promise we’ll have fish in no time.”

“The river is calm this time of year…” Adashino agreed. “I wouldn’t mind soaking my feet for a while.”

Both of you turned your expectant gaze onto Ginko, who gave a long-suffering sigh and knocked back the last dredges of his drink before slamming the wooden cup back down onto the tray. “Never say I don’t do anything for you two.”

Cheering, you swooped down to gather up the cups into the tray to whisk them away, prancing ahead of the males as they slowly got up from their spots. The sun beat down upon you again as you moved to the front of the house to wait for them. Thankfully, you stood under the engawa so most of the heat was kept off as you fixed your yukata.

“Hurry up, you two!!!”

“Coming.”

In a few short moments, both Ginko and Adashino joined you, the latter with a woven straw hat on his head as he handed a shallow basket to the white-haired man. The three of you made your way down the path to Adashino’s residence, greeting the occasional villagers who passed by. It wasn’t a long walk to the beach, but the three of you opted for a detour to a more secluded area by the river deeper into the forest. But that meant that by the time you reached your destination, sweat had begun to stain your dark yukata. Maroon was not a good color in the heat, no matter how much you liked the color.

“At last,” you sighed, flopping down on the grass beneath a dappled shade of a tree.

“Tell me why we like to go here when we have a perfectly good beach at a much shorter distance?” Ginko sighed as he set down the basket.

“We’d roast alive if we went out there in this sun,” Adashino replied.

You sat up, sharp eyes scanning the water and spotting the almost imperceptible flickers of scales underneath the surface. A sharp grin spread over your face as you stood up, pulling up your sleeves and rolling them back. “Water’s shallower here and the fishes like to stay in the coverage. I can catch them easier.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, sighing out deeply as your fingers came up to press over the lids of your eyes. The telltale smell of ozone filled the air as your magic activated. For a moment, your full visage was revealed and you heard Ginko and Adashino shifting behind you. Black fox ears flashed into existence, hung low on either side of your head, a flicker of unearthliness surrounding you. Then they disappeared. With any other person you would not have allowed the thought of letting your true appearance show, but your trust in the two males was unshakable. You knew there was nothing that would make them betray your trust out of their own free will.

A moment passed and then you took your fingers away from your eyes, turning around to blink at the two as the golden glow faded away from your eyes. 

“Everyone okay?”

“What did you use your magic for?” Ginko asked.

You kicked your sandals off. “To keep the debris out of my eyes.”

Keeping an eye on the river in front of you, you began stepping into the cool flowing waters. Before you can get far, your shoulder was grabbed and you jolted.

“Wait.”

Ginko had walked in after you, his face serious. A single, piercing green eye looked into yours.

You tilted your head. “Yes?”

“How are you sure it’s safe?”

Realizing his concern for what it was, you relaxed and gave him an easy smile, hand raising up to pat the one on your shoulder. “I’ve gone into this part of the river before during worse conditions. In fact, this part is one of the safest areas of the river, I made sure of it before showing it to you guys.”

You had met a local river yokai around here to help it save some of the members of its family. A grateful family, a game of stone skipping, and a favor later ensured that this area would be in their blessing and be safe for you and those you brought with you.

Despite your reassurances, his eyes roved over the still surface behind you. “Hm.”

“I’ll be fine, Ginko. I’m a very good swimmer,” you said, patient with him as you shared a look with Adashino. Though you weren’t there for the event itself, you had arrived just days after the event with the Suiko had gone down and had heard Io’s story in its entirety. The race to catch a girl who swam with the swamp and bountiful fish that lasted till this day. You were also there in the aftermath with Adashino, seeing Ginko’s haunted looks as he regarded the waters around him.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not hide his demons from one who was considered a half-demon too.

“If anything happens, I’ll shout for you alright? I won’t go far.”

“We can stick in the shallows, Ginko. Just in case,” Adashino said from his spot leaning up against the tree. “There isn’t anything large in these waters so we’ll be the most dangerous fish around.”

Ginko finally let go of you, sighing. “Be careful.”

You short him a reassuring grin, turning to wade deeper into the water. Your dark yukata spread out around you, wine red against the sparkling water. Behind you, you heard the two splashing around against the shore, but they did not follow you. Slowly, the water rose to waist level, and then a bit more. You went out until you reached the middle of the river, treading water as you turned around.

“I’m going down now. Get the basket ready!”

There was an affirmative call and you waited until you saw Adashino fetch the item, giving you a nod from across the bank. Giving the two males a wave, you took a deep breath and dove under the water.

The world silenced, cutting away into the dull, muffled noise of water rushing overhead. You drifted in the peace for a moment before opening your eyes.

Another world greeted you, blue-tinted and sparkling with sunbeams filtering down from above. It fluttered with the creatures down here, a dance of life.

You wondered if this was what Ginko saw when he talked of the Koumyaku, the glittering, living river of light.

A silver streak flashed by the corner of your vision and you snapped your head to it. A school of fish, unaware of the danger now within their mist. A slow grin stretched across your face, teeth losing their human flatness as your heart picked up in anticipation of the hunt. 

Thank you for this offering.

Like the silt of the river, your illusion slipped away in the flowing streams of the water. Your dark form sliced through the water, chasing after the fish. Nails, too sharp to belong to a normal human, swiped at glittering, silver-scaled bodies and snatched them up faster than they could react. Once you hand a handful of squirming fish by the tails, you shot off towards the bank. Surfacing with a gasp and a splash, you waved at them with the fish dangling from your grip.

“Hey! I got them!”

“Bring them in!”

You began kicking off towards the pair, slower now that you had to rely mostly on your legs. Adashino and Ginko began wading out to meet you too and a brilliant idea hit you. As your toes touched the bottom of the river, you reared back a fish in hand as the remainings were moved to your other one.

“Catch!”

Adashino’s eyes widened as the fish went sailing through the air. He yelped, lunging forward with his basket to let the fish flop down into it. Thankfully, Ginko’s hand snapped out to grab him by the back of Adashino’s yukata and his quick action prevented the dark-haired man and the fish from toppling down into the water. But unfortunately, that still soaked the entire front of his clothes

Adashino glared at you, front of his blue yukata now dripping. “Hey!”

“Oops–Sorry!” You laughed, totally unrepentant as you waded closer. The rest of the fish–thankfully–was gently placed into the basket. You faced both of them, hands on your hips as you regarded the pair. “It’s only a bit of water, y’know. It’ll help you cool off more if anything.” 

A drop of water trailed down your face from your dripping wet hair right after that statement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Adashino grumbled as he moved to hang the basket from the branches so it could trail in the water. That freed up his hands to fix his water-laden yukata, futilely wringing the fabric.

“Heh, heh. You can’t deny it does feel nicer though…” You turned to Ginko, who immediately picked up the shift in your person.

His lidded eye widened, taking a step back.

You launched at him, hands outstretched and water spraying out behind you as you splashed toward the male.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey leave me alone—”

“Adashino catch him! He’s the driest out of all of us!!”

“Adashino don’t you dare.”

Your bright laughter and splashing filled the air as the three off you ran around the quiet alcove meant just for you three and you were grateful to have another day like this with them.

[silver-lily-louise]

[Video description: A pair of brown hands are seen squeezing blue paint into a large tray, then rolling marbles back and forth in it by shaking the tray. The video cuts to show that the marbles have created a blue and purple finely-striped background against the previously black canvas. Spinning tops are then spun through yellow, red, black and white paint, guided by the artist's movement of the tray, forming halo-effect stars and the bust of a white stag. The video cuts to show that the words 'Merry Christmas' have been added to the finished artwork in yellow paint. End video description.

ID: A gif of Frollo from 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame', recoiling in angry horror and declaring 'Witchcraft!' End ID.]

Does anyone have a source for this?? I wanna know who this sorcerer is!

[mb-epoxy]

Simple Epoxy Resin Craft Ideas for Personalized Gifts

Epoxy resin is a fantastic medium for creating unique, personalized gifts that show you’ve put thought and care into your creations. With a little creativity, epoxy resin can be transformed into beautiful, one-of-a-kind gifts that suit any personality or occasion. Here are some simple epoxy resin craft ideas to inspire your next personalized gift.

1. Resin-Coated Photo Frames

A classic yet meaningful gift idea, resin-coated photo frames add a personalized touch to any room. Start by selecting a wooden or acrylic frame that suits the recipient’s style. Pour a layer of resin epoxy over the frame to create a sleek, glossy finish that enhances the frame's appearance. You can customize the resin by adding color, glitter, or even small mementos like beads, shells, or pressed flowers that hold special meaning to the recipient.

2. Epoxy Resin Keychains

Keychains are small, practical, and easy to personalize, making them an ideal resin project for gifting. To create your own resin keychain, start by choosing a mold in any shape you like—hearts, circles, animals, or initials. Fill the mold with epoxy resin products, and then add custom details like glitter, dried flowers, or even tiny photos. You can also make layered designs with different colored resins to create eye-catching effects. Once the resin is cured, attach a keyring, and you've got a charming, personalized accessory that anyone will appreciate.

3. Resin Jewelry Pieces

Creating personalized resin jewelry is a thoughtful and creative way to gift something special. You can easily make necklaces, bracelets, earrings, or rings using epoxy resin. One of the simplest ideas is to press small flowers or herbs into the resin and pour it into molds to create pendants or charms. You can also add glitter, colored pigments, or even tiny photos or messages to make the pieces more meaningful. The result is a stunning, handmade piece of jewelry that will be cherished for years to come.

4. Resin-Infused Coasters

Customized coasters make great gifts because they are both functional and stylish. Using epoxy resin, you can create beautiful coasters that reflect the recipient’s personality and taste. Add dried flowers, glitter, seashells, or even photographs for a personal touch. You can also experiment with different colors and designs to suit any home décor. 

5. Personalized Resin Trays

A resin tray is both a decorative and practical gift that can be customized to suit anyone's style. You can make small or large trays, and incorporate various elements like marbling, or even stones into the epoxy resin products to create a visually striking piece. Adding personal touches like initials, dates, or favorite colors will make the tray even more special. 

6. Resin Bookmarks

For book lovers, a personalized resin bookmark is a thoughtful and functional gift. You can create bookmarks by pouring epoxy resin into mold shapes and adding dried flowers, glitter, or beads for extra charm. A simple design featuring the recipient’s favorite colors or motifs will make for a meaningful and beautiful gift. 

7. Resin Mugs

Epoxy resin can be used to personalize mugs in a creative and unique way. By adding a layer of resin on the outside of a plain ceramic mug, you can create a glossy, colorful finish. This is a great opportunity to incorporate custom designs, such as a person’s initials, favorite quotes, or even artistic patterns that reflect their personality. 

Whether it’s custom jewelry, personalized home decor, or thoughtful accessories, epoxy resin allows you to create meaningful items that show how much you care. For your next DIY project, buy epoxy resin online consider using MB Epoxy products to ensure high-quality results and flawless finishes.

[hopeandsee]

Choosing the Ideal Ring Platter: Trends and Traditions

The engagement ceremony is a cherished occasion, marking the beginning of a couple’s journey together. One of the key elements of this event is the ring platters, which holds the engagement rings and plays a vital role in the exchange ritual. Choosing the perfect ring tray requires a balance between traditional values and modern aesthetics.

Choose the Ideal ring tray

The Significance of a Ring Tray

A ring tray is not just a decorative item; it symbolizes love, commitment, and the union of two families. It is often designed with elements that reflect cultural beliefs, religious significance, or personal preferences. Since it holds the rings—the most important tokens of engagement—it becomes a focal point of the ceremony and enhances the overall aesthetic of the event.

Traditional ring tray Designs

Many cultures have long-standing traditions when it comes to engagement ceremonies, and ring trays are no exception. Some of the classic traditional designs include:

Silver and Gold Plated Trays – In Indian weddings, gold and silver are considered auspicious, making metallic trays a popular choice.

Velvet and Embroidered Cushions – Luxurious velvet platters with intricate embroidery are commonly used in Middle Eastern and South Asian ceremonies.

Floral Arrangements – Fresh flowers like roses, orchids, and marigolds are often incorporated into the design, symbolizing purity and new beginnings.

Spiritual Motifs – Some cultures prefer ring trays adorned with religious symbols such as Om, Swastika, or Lord Ganesha to bring blessings and good fortune.

Modern Trends in ring trays

While tradition still plays a significant role, contemporary couples are experimenting with unique and stylish ring platters to match their engagement themes. Some of the latest trends include:

Minimalist and Elegant Designs – Sleek glass trays, marble platters, and acrylic bases are gaining popularity for their sophisticated and chic appeal.

Personalized ring trays – Custom-made trays featuring the couple’s initials, engagement date, or special quotes add a sentimental touch.

Theme-Based Platters – Couples opt for ring trays that align with their engagement theme, such as rustic wooden trays for vintage weddings or pastel floral designs for a fairytale-inspired look.

LED and Mirror Effects – Illuminated trays with LED lights and reflective mirror surfaces are becoming a trend, making the rings stand out beautifully.

Eco-Friendly Options – With sustainability in focus, biodegradable and handcrafted platters made of bamboo, jute, or recycled materials are gaining traction.

Tips for Choosing the Perfect ring tray

Selecting the right ring tray involves considering several factors:

Match the Theme: Choose a design that complements the overall decor and color scheme of your engagement ceremony.

Focus on Material: Opt for durable materials like wood, glass, or metal to ensure longevity.

Size and Comfort: The platter should be spacious enough to hold the rings securely while being easy to handle.

Personalization: Adding a customized touch, such as initials or a special design, makes the platter more memorable.

Budget-Friendly Choices: Whether opting for a luxurious platter or a DIY alternative, make sure it aligns with your budget.

Final Thoughts

A well-chosen ring tray can elevate the beauty of the engagement ceremony and serve as a memorable keepsake for years to come. Whether you lean towards traditional elegance or contemporary charm, the ideal ring platter is one that resonates with your personal style and the significance of the occasion.