#my day consists of the equivalent of staring at the way

[kavehater]

Staring at my keyboard because I don’t even know what to say to all this *gestures at everyone and my life* /neg

[geraldmariaivo]

Another one of these

Damian’s new classmate is odd, though not nearly as unpleasant to be around as everyone else at the school.

He doesn’t seem to be from wealthy family, but he also seems mostly unconcerned with the punishments doled out by the school for “getting into fights with his peers,” unlike many of the students in on academic programs. He thinks himself stupid, but Damian would be worried about having him as a rogue from the things he’s seen the boy tinkering with if he didn’t know that Fenton had his heart set on NASA. He’s clumsy, but it seems to be out of habit rather than any true issues with balance and spatial awareness. He filled in Damian’s gaps in knowledge concerning social structures and how to operate within them, with only minimal prompting. Whenever Damian forgot a word or figure of speech in English, and used the equivalent in a different language, Fenton always understood.

He has a dog that he has yet to let meet, but claims that “Cujo isn’t really my dog, he just hangs around.”

He is clearly metahuman. If the abnormal body temperature, changing eye color, and ability to avoid Damian so consistently weren’t enough evidence, then the fact that his presence made Damian so at ease, made him feel safe, energized, and reassured of his own competence in some strange way the not even his father or Richard could, was the nail in the coffin.

Naturally, Damian sought out his company during lunch and group projects.

It was only logical to evaluate Fenton so as to make sure he knew what to expect should the boy be controlled either by extortion or by any of the rogues’ mind control methods. It was only a beneficial side effect that doing so made Damian feel safer, made his thoughts of inadequacy quiet down, and made it easier to rest without a weapon. It also helped that Fenton didn’t question things like most of his family did. His peer didn’t ask why he needed a nap after a 3-day weekend with no homework. He didn’t ask why Damian was out “sick” so often. He simply handed Damian a sleeping mask to make it easier to rest, even if he didn’t fall asleep. He gave Damian a guide to the shorthand he used for class notes, and filled him in on what he missed whenever he came home from being “ill.” He offered smuggled-in over the counter medications during study sessions freely, and with no question as to why Damian favored his right leg for the next week or so.

Damian saw Fenton during patrol once, when he and Batman had gotten to the crime scene after Fenton had broken the ribs of one of the robbers.

Damian would even go so far as to call Fenton his peer in his civilian life, though he would appreciate it if the rest of his siblings would stop teasing him about his “new friend,” and asking him “when are you going to invite your friend over?”

As tempting as it was to stab them into stopping it, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Alfred’s disappointed stare.

This fondness for Fenton was the only reason he didn’t immediately hold a knife to the boy’s throat when it was clear that he knew about what had happened.

“What had happened” being Damian falling through his chair, and partway into the ground with no warning.

That, and Fenton’s response of “Damn, this is the first time I’ve seen you fall through something all year. What made you finally slip up? Family issues? Death day coming up?”

[catscidr]

I think we have all seen the "Argenti thinks the Reader is Idrila" stuff on here. But what if the reader actually is Idrila? So I wanted to request Argenti/Idrila!Reader (gn or afab reader) headcanons or a oneshot where Idrila, who has taken on a mortal identity after [Insert tragic event here], and meets Argenti. They develop feelings for each other, Argenti finds out she is Idrila, they end up dating. (Maybe or maybe not in that specific order) I thought maybe after protecting her followers from Nanook she disappeared to ensure Nanook doesn't target them anymore? That part isn't as important so feel free to add whatever backstory you think fits^^ Thank you in advance, I really like your writing!

NONNIE omg im booting up star rail rn to stare at him lovingly. also i changed the scenario a smidge so reader is her own person while also being idrila? if that makes sense......?? yeah. also bc otherwise id be writing ten thousand words n i didnt want ur ask to grow dusty in my inbox d(;∀;d) but tysm for the prompt i couldn’t stop thinking about it ueue. also hey gang peep me trying to make my blog look more coherent n nicer looking. am i doin it ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: a smidge of amnesia and soulmate trope (it’s not that bad, trust), fluff, love at first sight (does that even count in this scenario....), argenti and reader are dancing around the topic a lot bc argenti is a gentleman and doesn’t want to pressure her to talk. blurbs to set up the plot + a fic after them hehe. not proofread, writer’s block is killing me  includes: fem reader (he refers to reader as "my lady"), argenti, natasha, luocha is kinda there wc: 2,3k

-ˋˏ You’d go to Natasha’s clinic at least once every other day because you always had the worst migraines. To the point where you almost got beat up by a Flamespawn one time when you were clearing out calyxes (thankfully there was a Silvermane guard patrolling the area, otherwise you would’ve been charred). The doctor always says the same thing; “Stop looking for fights so often”, “Let your body rest”, “I can’t prescribe you antibiotics”, and your favorite, “Stop slamming my door open I can’t do anything about your headaches”. She was a good friend, but whenever she repeated how she couldn’t be of any help to your predicament, you’d wish you could just take that glass vial hanging from her outfit and chuck it far, far away out of spite. 

-ˋˏ Obviously it wasn’t her fault- she'd done everything she could. Natasha even had you undergo the Underworld’s equivalent of an MRI scan because of how frequently you would visit her, insisting that something was wrong. The symptoms consisted of forgetting important things too often, feeling a foreign buzz in your limbs and brain, having a sudden burst of elemental energy come out of your attacks and a myriad of benign but annoying, irritating signs that something was up with you. 

-ˋˏ It became more of a chore than anything to leave your room. Some days you felt fine, but then when you’d go out again and beat up wave after wave of enemies in Caverns of Corrosion you would keel over, clutching your head while vague images of what could only be described as a fever dream ran through your mind. 

-ˋˏ You decided to leave the Underworld for some time- considering your absence like some sort of “vacation”. You heard of a wandering doctor (and merchant, apparently) by the name of Luocha and, from the people that crossed paths with him, it seemed like he was extraordinary at his job. A trek to the Xianzhou Luofu would be a long one, but after weighing your options you thought you’d give it a try (it was worth it if it meant you’d stop waking up at ungodly hours, holding your head in your hands while hoping, praying that the pain stops.) 

-ˋˏ You (somehow) made your way to the Xianzhou Luofu from Jarilo-VI. As competent as you were however, being stranded on a foreign planet with no map nor local to guide you was... a challenge. In retrospect, maybe you should’ve gotten in contact with that Luocha doctor and had him come to Belobog instead of you going to him since, well, he was a traveling merchant. Going from planet to planet is what he does (you assume). 

✧✧✧ 

If you had read up more on general information about the Luofu you would have been aware of how many enemies were roaming around the docking area. But you didn’t. So, unbeknownst to you, a rogue mara-struck soldier was on your tail, trying to sneak up to you to snag the goods you hid in your bag (which were basically just different types of painkillers and sustenance that bodes well on an upset stomach. He doesn’t know that though.) 

Your head was throbbing; ever since you set foot on the planet, your physical health had slowly dropped down to levels you wouldn’t be enduring if it wasn’t for the promise of a competent doctor once you get to the main city. Painkillers weren’t working, your feet hurt and to make matters worse, you felt the familiar lack of something in your head. It was so bad to the point where you had to have a tangible mark somewhere to remind you that you did, in fact, just take something for your headache and if you took two more painkillers, your body wouldn’t agree with your decision. It was a struggle even remembering what you did five minutes ago, no way were you going to be in top shape, beating up every enemy crossing your way. 

Clouds began covering the bright sun, casting shadows over the desolate, geometric area. You huff, irritated that, from the looks of it, you won’t be able to find a cozy place to set up camp. Though sleeping on a ground made of primarily iron and steel was considerably less nerve-wracking than sleeping on the mushy, cold, dirty ground of Jarilo-VI. So, with a pout aimed at no one in particular, you find some place that you deemed decent enough to set your humble tent. It wasn’t often that adventurers slept outside of safe zones, however with your condition you couldn’t afford to miss out on some rest and possibly get even more lost than you already are. 

You set your heavy backpack down, rolling your shoulders to soothe the ache in your muscles from carrying something so bulky. As you ruffle through your belongings, you open a bottled soda and take a swift gulp, sighing contentedly at the pleasant taste on your tongue. Now that you were sat and could rest your bones (until you started setting up your tent, at least), your ears were able to pick up on some not-so-distant footsteps. 

There’s no time for you to react; the mara-struck soldier that had been following you lunges at you, aiming for your bag. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to yell, but before any sound can leave your mouth, a long, red and gold spear pierces the ground between you and the rabid man, making you yelp in surprise. You scurry as far back as you can in your current state; however, the soldier doesn’t have time to take advantage of your weakened stature. The owner of the spear lodges himself before your shaking figure and the mara-struck, yanking his spear out of the ground with impressive elegance, and summons an array of thorny vines to catch your assailant. 

It takes little to no effort for the seasoned fighter to take down the mara-struck as he swings his weapon, swiftly knocking the blunt end on the soldier’s plexus, knocking the wind out of him. A strangled scream leaves his throat as he scampers away, leaving your belongings safe with you and the strange red-haired man. He lowers his spear, careful to keep the sharp edge far from you, and turns around to face you properly. His brows raise a smidge for a split second before he composes himself and bows before you, the action short and curt.  

“It would have been a shame to lose a beauty such as yourself,” he says smoothly, straightening his back to look down at you with a warm smile. He stretches his hand out, a polite offer to help you stand up, as he continues speaking. “My name is Argenti, I belong to the Knights of Beauty. What might you be doing so far away from civilization, dear...?” he trails off, waiting for you to introduce yourself. 

You were in a state of shock, your mind still processing what had happened in such a short amount of time, that you failed to notice the lack of pain at the back of your head. As you meekly tell him your name, you hold onto his hand to help yourself up- as soon as his armored glove comes in contact with your hand something flashes in your mind; too quick to allow you to think about it too much, or to recognize what you saw for a millisecond. 

“So far away from civilization... do you know how to get to the city?” you ask as you feel a glimmer of hope spark in you. His words were refreshing, probably the best thing someone has ever said to you in the past month. He nods, reaching into his pocket to fish out a blue handkerchief embroidered with a delicate gold trim. Argenti hands it over to you and you gratefully take it, blotting the sweat and... dust off of your face. 

“I have made my way around the Luofu for long enough to show someone the way,” he says kindly. “Besides, even if I didn’t, I would still offer to accompany you through your trek. It is my duty as a Knight of Beauty, for I must uphold chivalry and distinguished manners, in the name of the Goddess guiding me.” His words resonate within you, making you beam, nodding in understanding. 

Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the knight. As you hand his handkerchief back, he smiles at you and gestures to your bag. “What brings you so far from your homeworld, my lady?” Argenti asks gently, though a glimmer of doubt swirls in his sparkling, verdant eyes. The question makes you pause, a memory flashing in your mind too suddenly for you to know what it meant. Although, from what you could tell, you knew you could trust him with what troubled you somehow. 

“Ah, it’s a long story,” you start sheepishly, “I’ve been having these incredibly painful migraines recently. And sometimes I feel like my memory is fading too quickly for what would be considered normal,” you say, trailing off slightly at the end. “I’m looking for a healer, a doctor by the name of Luocha...?” 

Somehow, the doctor was currently the least of your worries. You’d never felt so refreshed before, at least not that you could remember; simply being in Argenti’s presence seemed to be enough to make your aches disappear like a starskiff smoothly gliding through a cloudless sky. 

“I’ve seen the man only a handful of times,” Argenti mutters aloud, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I can do my best to guide you to him, but if I may... you don’t seem to be injured?” the knight says, his voice trailing off into a questioning tone despite the observation. You shake your head, wondering how you should explain your predicament to the man. 

“Like I said, it’s a long story,” you say again, shrugging sheepishly. You wondered if you should even go into the nitty gritty- he could always just be making small talk to help you get comfortable or something. Sensing your unease, he changes the spotlight to him instead. 

“There’s no need to delve into details if you wish to keep them secret,” he says with a kind smile, bending down to take ahold of your hand- gently pressing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. Red flushes your ears immediately, words caught in your throat at the sight of his hair cascading over his shoulders, a beautiful contrast from the gold and silver armor glittering in what was left of the sunlight. 

“As for myself, like I mentioned earlier, I am a Knight of Beauty. I’m on a quest to find my dear Goddess Idrila once more, for I need to pay my respects to them after they saved me from a particularly grim fate.” His words echoed in your mind, your brows knitting together as you felt what could only be described as a cold bucket of water being dunked on your head. “I-Idrila?” you parrot, your voice coming out as a choked noise. Argenti perks up, the hand that had been softly holding onto yours now holding it with a firmer grip, his other hand joining it. 

“Yes, Idrila. Have you ever heard of them? Or...” he trails off, looking deep into your eyes expectantly, almost as if he knew something you didn’t. His eyes seemed to suck you in, bringing a comfortable wave of warmth over you, making you yearn for something. 

“I...” you begin, your gaze falling down to look at your feet. As you thought long and hard about what you wanted to say, what you tried to remember, you slowly look over to his spear, lying flat on the ground- long forgotten since the fight earlier. As if a lightbulb went off above your head, you perk up just as he did, and look at him, beaming. The words were caught in your throat; there was so much you wanted to say, to declare, to do in this moment of clarity, but with how fast your mind was running to catch you up on the current events of your life it was a struggle. 

“Argenti,” you murmur, the name rolling off your tongue smoothly, as you realized seeing the traveling merchant was no longer required. Though the road might have been arduous, and you may have almost lost your mind in the process, being with Argenti suddenly made everything make sense. That’s why your migraines mysteriously disappeared as soon as you were in the knight’s presence, that’s why you had gaps in your memory, that’s why you were freakishly powerful... at convenient times.  

Everything clicked into place. 

The both of you share a pregnant pause, eyes locked together as the world seemed to come to a stop around you. If it were possible, you’re sure there would be delicate, silky rose petals floating around your figures, suspended in the air. You glance down at his lips, and for the first time, make a decision with a clear head. 

His lips felt smooth against yours, the faint taste of vanilla mixed with roses transferring to your own lips. The kiss almost felt like it could be the result of a symbiotic relationship; now that you had Argenti, or at least had him by your side once again, you didn’t think you’d be able to continue on without him. 

[bettsfic]

Okay, so... I finished the first draft of my first novel recently (80k words! Woot woot!) and I'm super proud of myself. But editing it has been HARD.

For one, I felt it was easier to stay consistent with drafting it. I knew I had to write 1k words a day, so I did. But now it's like, what goal is the equivalent of that? Because those two processes are completely different. It's tough finding that balance for me.

Another thing is, like, I think it's a good book, I don't think it's a GREAT book. And the amount of what I'd need to transform completely to make it GREAT is daunting. When I was drafting I just ran with the wind, but now I actually KNOW how much I have to do to polish this into what I want. And it's a lot! I've never stared down this much Future Work before, and the path ahead seems foggy. I can't see the finished product and I'm worried it'll never turn out the way I want it to, whereas drafting is like, get it done and you're good. Sorry if these types of asks seem redundant, but, YEESH. I'm hoping I can hop back on the editing horse soon.

congrats on finishing a novel!!

i can definitely commiserate. that daunting "oh god there's so much work to do" is one of the worst feelings, especially when you know part of that work is major rewriting/restructuring. and in some cases, writing the whole book over again.

the good news is, i do think the revision process can be as procedural as your 1k a day. what i do is draft a really thorough revision plan. then instead of 1k a day, you tackle 1 chapter a day on your plan. sometimes to spice things up i use a random number generator and work on the chapter of whatever result i get.

i'm still writing a newsletter about how i make my revision plans, but essentially it's really just a step by step guide of what you want to change. i color code mine. here's the key i use:

and so one chapter of the revision plan looks like

i know this paragraph sounds insane but i swear it makes sense in context. unfortunately in the draft after this draft, a lot of this chapter has gotten cut.

anyway, the revision plan is a pain in the ass to make, but to me it's impossible to think big picture and small picture at the same time, as in, i can't just go in and start making changes without knowing exactly what i'm going to do, which is the exact opposite of exploratory drafting. if your revision plan is thorough enough, the process can become a lot less daunting i think.

congrats again, and i'd love to know how revisions go!

[recurring-polynya]

I'm on vacation, so here is a random grab-bag of Soul Society thoughts I had while staring into the sea today (this is mostly for @bleachbleachbleach but you can read it too)

One of my favorite conceits of B3's writing (I feel like things that appear in fanfiction are sort promoted from headcanons but I don't have a good word for it) is the notion that Rukongai has its own magic that is fundamentally different and, in fact, somewhat opposed to shinigami magic. This first shows up in Afar, Afar, where Momo loses her ability to see spirits in Junrinan (and perhaps even her memory that such a thing exists). There was also a notion of it in REVERSE THE BONE (the best Weird Rukongai fic ever written) about the train, which already exists in a sort of quantum state where it sometimes exists both forward and backward in time, but also that the journey depends on the passengers. There's a quote at the beginning, but nonetheless, has completely rewired my brain (it has been over a month, and I am still thinking about it):

Hisagi does not find this mollifying. “Yeah, but I don’t even think Captain Kuchiki gets the same train as the rest of us. Have you ever tried to use his restaurant reviews? Because I always print these things, and they sound great, then I go. And then they’ll look at me like—Well. It’s like I’m not even at the same restaurant. But hey, at least you’ll get to see a lot, right? I’ve heard East Rukongai these days is… fine!”

Within the context of the story, this is just hyperbole. Of course Byakuya experiences things differently, he's incredibly rich and powerful, etc, etc, but the thing that sticks in my head about this is that Byakuya is fundamentally different from Hisagi, and also Hitsugaya and Hinamori, who are the protagonists of this piece, because he is a creature of Soul Society and they are not.

The Rukon is a place for ghosts. For beings that lived a life on Earth and died. It is an afterlife. A thing I find incredibly interesting is that nearly all the Rukon-hailing shinigami we know of died as children. Additionally, they are all Really Good at being shinigami--captains and vice-captains, although this is a function of Bleach being a story about the more powerful members of Soul Society. Anyway, I think this is not a coincidence.

Two things that are true about Bleach are that: a) liminal things, hybrid things, things that exist at the boundaries of two other things, tend to be more powerful b) power is also achieved through transformation

It makes 100% sense to me that a child ghost has more potential to become in Soul Society. We also know that aging is non-linear, and that age changes tend to come in concert with increases in power. All of this feels very consistent and right to me.

In particular, consider Rukia, who died as a baby (and we don't know this for sure, but her sister, who died as an older child or teen did not seem to have the same potential). She was human, but only got to live a small fraction of the life she could have, and instead, went to Soul Society, and became such a creature of Soul Society, that she not only achieved bankai, but trained in the Royal Realm, a thing that few other shinigami get to do.

This reminded me of a line from my own fanfic, Hold On, Hold On, where I was trying to make sense of the "lieutenant is equivalent of nobility" thing (through the convenient mouthpieces of Kira and Hinamori):

“High ranking shinigami are basically considered to be nobility,” Izuru explains. “Or close enough for most purposes.” “The argument goes,” Momo elaborates, in a way that she knows will resonate with Renji, “that the reason nobles are noble is because their souls are so pure and strong, right? So how else can you explain the captains that come from Rukongai? You can’t, so you have to act like they’re noble, too, right? Noble logic.”

And while I don't think I'm wrong, what if there's more to it? What if there is something that is fundamental to one's nature that nobles and powerful shinigami have in common, something that also corresponds to the nature of the Seireitei.

There's one other thing that I think they may have in common, and that's the ability to reproduce. Fanon is split on this topic, but I've always been of the mind that having babies in Soul Society is something only people with strong spiritual energy are able to do. So, in that sense, if noble people see themselves as defined by having been born in the Soul Society, of being creatures who have never lived, it's not exactly the same, but a Rukongai wandering soul who gains the ability to reproduce is certainly a step closer, no?

(Is this the part where I talk about Soul Society nobility and their parallels to faeries, with their low birthrate and stealing babies and people of talent to join their underground magical kingdom?)

An interesting ramification of all of this, is that you've got Rukia and Renji, who represent one of the most successful cases of dead souls acclimating to Soul Society and reaching the highest echelons of power, but I strongly suspect that there are still some fundamentally Rukon things about them-- things they see, things they feel, things they remember. What makes this extra cool to me is the fact that they hang out with Byakuya, the product of dozens of generations of Soul Society lineage. In fact, the catalyst for all of this thinking was me thinking about Byakuya having an instinctive distrust of the sea, whereas Rukia and Renji and Hisana all love it. Now, I am generally not very interested in Ichika, but I am interested in the fact that she is something different than her parents. That on some level she has more in common with Byakuya. I mean, is this the origin stories for Soul Society's noble clans in the first place? Some souls made themselves powerful enough to make more of themselves?? That is a pretty interesting thought to me, not that I've come up with anything interesting to do with it. It's like, what if you were a changeling, and you got adopted by the king of the faeries and you had a baby with another human changeling, but your baby was a faery? (Polynya, this was the plot of Books of Magic. Kinda sorta. You have somehow achieved your life goal of six degrees of John Constantine-ing Tim Hunter and Kuchiki Rukia and it was entirely by accident.)

Anyway, that was my complete quota of interesting Ichika thoughts for today (I still think it would have been cooler if they got to conceive a baby in the Royal Realm but no one asked me).

The more interesting direction that these thoughts took goes back to B3's fic, in the sense of: do the nobles avoid the Rukon? What is it that they don't like about it? The implication is always just basically that it's poor and not as nice as the Seireitei, but what if there are things that are in opposition to the law and order that people like Yamamoto have imposed on the controlled area inside the city walls. Even the Shiba, the infamous rebel outcasts only live in District 1.

Consider Ukitake's backstory--his noble family were so desperate to save their sick child that they went out to District 76 and made a deal with a god/a piece of the Soul King (is there a difference? does it matter?), a thing which gave Ukitake the capability to become a vessel for a god. I feel like Mimihagi wouldn't/couldn't have made that deal with an ordinary soul. This happened a super long time ago and I bet there have been all kinds of cautionary tales, etc, to discourage this kind of behavior today. (Which also ties a little into Yhwach's "the Gotei used to be better, you suck now" comment)

I'm not really converging on any sort of conclusion, here, it's just sort of interesting to me. The Rukongai sort of represents wild lawlessness, I think, the loss of rules and sense. The TYBW is all about how the order of Soul Society (and Hueco Mundo and the Living World) is a thing that was invented for and by the shinigami for their own benefit, and I think they don't even really have control of their entire realm, just the central bit.

There's a constant fanon outcry of "why do the shinigami neglect Rukongai?" and it's always because "Soul Society sucks" and "Central 46 is dicks" etc, but I think it's interesting to think about the shinigami as a social order that truly has limited power, and that there is a lot of shit in the Rukon that is more than is dreamt of in their philosophy, if you get my drift, whether it's werewolf clans or trains that don't obey the laws of time and space. It's like the way in a horror movie, the cop or the army dude gets taken down by the monster in the woods who is eventually defeated by a teen or something. Shinigami are very powerful when it comes to dealing with the interface between the World of the Living and their personal World of the Dead, but they are less well equipped to deal with the things in their own backyard.

Regretfully, none of this cohered in my head into anything that I could spin into a good story (I'm not sure they even cohered into this essay), but maybe it will roll around in my head long enough to grow a pearl, who knows?

[megumiswife4]

ENTWINED SHADOWS 2

Pairings ~ Megumi x Fem Reader

Warnings ~ slow burn, (possible smut in later chapters), aged-up Fushiguro (as well as other characters), cussing, 18+ only PLEASE.

WC ~ 2.6

This is my first fic here. Please take it easy on me, but I would love to receive constructive criticism to improve my writing; you guys can always leave messages in my inbox or comment below once again thank you for reading, and enjoy.

*I will be posting every Sunday night for a new chapter*

**Also I apologize for not updating on the set date that it was supposed to drop, I had some family visit from out of state. Having to deal with exams and loads of homework from school but I promise to make sure I stay consistent with y’all and to keep these chapters coming out on the day intended. **

Part 1:

Theme song: Die For You by The Weeknd

Shibuya, Tokyo

What a place to start your night off, with plans of good drinks, great friends, and a little bit of karaoke.

First, the itinerary suggests grabbing food before downing a bit of alcohol, no one wants to end the night too early on when it’s still young. Sightseeing big city lights, and skyscrapers; walking the strip of Shibuya alluring many people from locals to tourists. Day and night, it was equivalent to fitting the phrase of “The city that never sleeps.” Drunk people sleeping on the sidewalks, others enjoying the street foods from local vendors– nothing else can compare to the streets of Shibuya.

“Megumi, how do you feel about heading to Ichiran Shibuya? I've heard they’ve got some mean ramen there.” you calmly asked smiling

“I don't mind, quite more appetizing than whatever Itadori suggested.” Rolling his eyes, he chuckles.

You amusingly stated “Oh I’m sure, did he pick chicken tenders and fries as usual?”

The raven-haired boy light heartedly laughed along with you, resting your hand onto his shoulder as you raised the other covering your mouth trying not to be too loud for Itadori to hear you both laughing for his choice of food before a night of drinking.

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

Megumi's POV

For a moment my heart must’ve jumped, I can't quite understand why? Y/n is just a friend of mine, surely this isn’t what friendship should feel like right? For god's sake, I sure as hell don't feel this way for Itadori or Kugisaki– why am I feeling this way fo-

“Hey come on daydreamer let's get going.” y/n smiled, grabbing ahold of your wrist. Her touch was not like the others, it was always gentle and soft, peoples touches were a bit bothersome for me but with hers I tolerated them.

“Yeah Fushiguro put some pep in your step please?” Kugisaki shouted

Pretending to act annoyed I followed her and the others lead. We came to a stop once entering the Ramen shop, awaiting to be seated by the hostess.

“Welcome in!” The staff greeted us loudly, and lastly the hostess sat us down. I was the last to get my menu, observantly seeing the hostess purposely grazing her hand across my forearm once the menus were placed down. Quickly moving my arm out of view feeling entirely uncomfortable, she gestured a quick eye wink and left; Noting all three of my friends had seen the small flirtatious gesture I had received by the woman.

“Wow Fushiguro you seem to be great with the ladies! Wishing something like that happened to me” Itadori imagined, flushing at the thought of an encounter like Fushiguro’s.

“Shut up Itadori, what she pulled was really unnecessary.” I Snarled.

Kugisaki couldn’t help but laugh, that someone might have been interested in someone like Fushiguro.

“That thought alone of someone crushing on you is god awful, who would like you? I mean, hey preference right?”

Y/n quietly lowered her head, staring at her lap, proceeding to navigate her head upward quickly glancing in my direction— then rendering her eyes back to the menu.

“So…guys have you decided what you all would want to eat?” She exclaimed.

“Y/n so you don’t agree with Itadori and I?” Kugisaki asked shockingly.

“What about it? Megumi isn’t unpleasant or hideous, if anything he’s quite the opposite. Not to mention he’s a great person overall being that he's kind, smart, and really generous…” her eyes widened quickly, gasping, “Oh my god! I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, Megumi?” She laughed shyly.

“You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, but thanks that was gracious of you.” Saying delicately

Thinking to myself it was not what I was expecting at all, I was quite caught off guard by her compliment. She always had a way with her words, it was alluring.

~

Itadori & Kugisaki both looked at one another with a side eye, astounded by that particular response from y/n.

The waitress ultimately approached the table to grab everyone’s drinks and entree orders. Before the main course could arrive, Itadori’s curiosity got the best of him wanting to better understand y/n’s response.

“So what? do you like Meg—“ Before he could finish his sentence Nobara smacked the back of his head, immediately cutting off Itadori’s question before any awkwardness would invade the table.

“You dumbass, why would you ask that?!” Kugisaki whispered quietly to Itadori.

“Ouch! My head! That wasn’t fucking nice of you to do sheesh!” Itadori winced, rubbing his head.

Y/n couldn’t help but cackle at Nobara and Yuji, it was pure comedy seeing those two argue about the dumbest shit anyone could ever contend over.

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

After a filling dinner, it was finally time to head out to a bar nearby that included Karaoke and great drinks, Thankfully the sections in the bar weren’t completely filled.

All four stepped into the bar, the atmosphere was astounding. Multiple groups of conversations happening all at once. It was undetermined what conversations were which, hearing glasses clink with each cheer, people would insist to do right before downing some alcohol.

Y/n pulling both Itadori’s and Kugisakis hands, Megumi followed their lead. They ran into a section that was empty for the group of four to stay in, a small glass coffee table with a small menu that included a QR code labeled onto it. To order the drinks you must scan the code, Once the bartender receives the order from the section they are to make the drink; sending out the order to a waiter who delivers the cocktail.

The first round of drinks consisted of sake shots for all four, this first tab was on Yuji. “Cheers! To all the shit missions we just arrived back from, also to a hopeful night of endless drinks and fun!” he rejoiced.

All four combined their shot glasses together creating that chiming noise effect, every single one of them single-handedly downed the shot; urgently feeling that burn in their stomach when ingesting the first alcoholic beverage of the night.

Y/n turned directly toward Megumi, “ Well these drinks might end up tasting like water by the end of this night.” she laughed.

“You’re not wrong, let's just hope we can hit a few other places before the night is over.” Megumi let out a minuscule laugh.

It was finally time to start ordering bigger and fancier drinks for our first stop here in Shibuya. Nobaras specialty drink of course was a Bellini, very sophisticated and “lady-like” cocktail of choice. It consisted of the finest bottle of prosecco and a generous amount of peach puree. Itadori’s choice of drink was very self-explanatory, a Long Island Iced Tea– sweet and enjoyable just like him. Whereas Megumi’s was the plain ‘ole dark rum and coke on the rocks, nothing crazy but it fit him– subtle, dark, but strong personality. Lastly, y/n’s drink, a Malibu rum and pineapple juice over ice– it was a fun yet sunny color. Nothing beats her shy yet bubbly personality and that drink was just one that fit perfectly.

Enjoying the vocals of the regulars at the karaoke stand, singing their drunken hearts out. Nobara and y/n enthusiastically applauded each and every person showing out on stage. At last, no other person or group was willing to take the place of the next person to have the spotlight. Nobara quickly glanced over to y/n, nudging at her shoulder.

“Are you ready to take the stage and crowd?” she exclaimed excitedly. Before y/n could say a word she was pulled towards the stage alongside Nobara, “I requested the next song, I figured no one had great taste in music but me.”

Glamorous by Fergie began to play on the loudspeakers, y/n’s eyes widening; she felt a bit nervous with a building full of crowds and people she wasn’t familiar with. Of course, Kugisaki selected this song in particular, she loved expensive and luxurious items not to mention she adored the lavish life the wealthy lived in. After all the spotlight was never a problem for Kugisaki, she has a very straightforward personality, she can almost instantaneously fit right in.

Y/n on the other hand was definitely a bit more closed off, she would have needed a couple more shots to get her a bit more comfortable.

A man who had a section near theirs ordered a few sake shots, juggling about four shot glasses in his hands in hopes of not dropping them. He very slowly made his way to y/n, handing over the shots to her in hopes of relieving her anxiousness.

“Here take these, it's on me.” he kindly clamored.

“Uh… Oh is that for me? Thank you!” Y/n cautioned, emitting a dainty smile.

He clamored “Sure thing, I noticed you might have needed some of these to shake off the nervousness. If you need anything else just holler over at my section I'll take care of you.”

“That's super sweet of you, thanks.” she shyly smiled.

“By the way, that dress hugs you in all the right places.” giving a quick wink as the gentleman walked back towards his section of the bar.

Stunned by the young man's choice of words she felt a bit nervous, noting that he took appreciation of her body and the way he was swooning over her curves in the dress.

She instantly downed the shots, feeling warm and fuzzy throughout her body. The confidence was immediately kicking in– give it no more than a few seconds and she would be ready to take on the stage.

“Who the hell is that?” Megumi annoyingly questioned Itadori. Staring the young gentleman down as he sat in his section.

“I don't know but it seems to me he’s got a liking for y/n. Let’s hope he isn’t a creep or we’re going to have a huge problem, on the bright side she might be able to get us free drinks though.” Itadori stammered.

Megumi silently scoffed, sitting alongside Itadori in their booth– crossed arms, his legs mildly spread apart leaning against the cushioned couch. Waiting for the show that the girls would end up embarrassingly speaking about the next morning.

As the chorus began, Kugisaki took the limelight swaying her hips left to right engaging her hand forward to a group of young men who had been charmed by her presence; her other hand slightly gripping the mic. Wanting to leave the men in a daze she decided it was a smart idea to lift the side of her dress up exposing her thigh, she teased the men insinuating that “they could look but don't touch.”

The colored disco lights flashed on every part of her and Y/n, the attention was all on them. Resulting in the crowd being mesmerized by their presence.

Y/n looked over to Nobara, seeing that the alcohol had heightened her confidence. Her thigh was exposed to the men across the room that drooled over her. Concluding that it was finally y/n’s time to take her chance to sing the next chorus.

“Jesus Christ that's disgusting, I feel like I’m watching my sister act seductive in front of horny men.” Itadori shrieked.

Both men hovered their hands over their eyes in shame, seeing that Nobara felt a bit frisky about gaining the attention of the drunken young men.

Nobara slightly moved aside to make way for y/n, She nearly tripped over a cord instantly catching herself before causing more of an embarrassment for herself. Laughing a bit, she glanced over towards Fushiguro and Itadori hoping they hadn’t noticed; she struck out of luck as they had most definitely been aware of her clumsiness.

Ultimately y/n softly grasped ahold of the mic, the time was now or never— if it wasn't for the alcohol she would not have been as forthcoming as she was now. Singing the chorus, Y/n began to move herself to the beat of the music. One hand on the mic the other grazing down from the base of the hip down to her thigh as her body was adjusting to every single part of the song. People cheering, and men whistling to the provocative movements. The young man that had brought the sake shots gained his friend's attention, directing his finger towards y/k.

“She’s coming home with me tonight.” the young man snickered, raising a small capsule containing a white substance.

His friend's eyes darted around nervously, “Bro you gotta be careful, Remember what happened to the other girl last time? Can’t keep doing this shit every time we’re out– that isn’t how you get the girl.”

“I’m not trying to get serious with her, I just need a bitch in my bed for the night.” He sneered.

His friend stood up angrily, “I’m not putting up with this kind of shit, you want to keep pulling this stunt you’re all on your own– I'm out of here!”

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

Megumi’s POV

Watching y/n showing her true identity, the radiance in her beauty that was luminated from the colorful lights, her looking at Kugisaki immediately laughing. They both know they’re very much out of character once the drinks kicked into their system, her laugh was contagious. I enjoyed knowing she was having a blast on that stage. Her happiness is all that mattered being that Jujutsu Tech wasn’t as all cracked out to be. Understanding this is what she needed… what we all needed. I sulked in every moment, grinning to myself whenever she tried her hardest to not display her buzzed self.

It feels unnatural to feel this way, I can’t decipher whether these are my sober feelings or my drunken ones. No, she’s my friend… I’m just a bit buzzed out of my mind, there is no way in hell that anything would transpire from this… from us. My mind is rendering back and forth about these emotions, always brushing them aside thinking this could have easily been forgettable, and yet each time I prove myself wrong— because in the end, it’ll only result in my feelings growing stronger.

“Hey look Fushiguro.” Itadori nudged at my shoulder. “Isn’t that the guy y/n got those sake shots from?”

“Yeah… that is.” I stammered, observing the commotion between the two. It was hard to understand, but their physicality is what told it all.

The man providing those sake shots seemed to be in a heated feud with who I would assume was his friend. Shortly after, the conversation cut quickly to his friend leaving the bar enraged. Hmm strange… witnessing the other man trying to pack something into his right pocket, but unfortunately, he missed. There it was, lying on the floor a miniature ziplock bag containing some sort of white substance. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen, if I’m correct, it’s used to spike people's drinks knocking them unconscious and unfortunately in those moments, they are taken advantage of in the most vile way imaginable and only an immoral, crazy, piece of shit would use something like that. My anger raging, blood boiling, in hopes that y/n hadn’t been exposed to it. I had to keep my cool, realizing he had dropped it fully exposed to the environment around him, he quickly propped his arm down to pick it up and in a hurried manner stuffed it back into the pocket, a concerned look appeared on his face wondering if anyone else took notice of it— until his eyes met mine.

His eyes glared directly at me, two can play this game. I have no problem being invested in this punk. Raising his hand, his index finger fixated hovering over his lips. Gesturing to keep my mouth shut, I came to realize he might not have a clue that we were here accompanying Kugisaki and y/n.

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

TAGLIST: @afatalheat , @mariapierce789

[squadrah]

i really wanna hear more about uncanny/cryptid pros headcanons, they're probably one of the coolest headcanons I've seen out there.

I'm so glad you enjoy them, it makes me happy that people appreciate this take on Prosciutto's character because it brings me so much joy to explore his uncanny/cryptid potential!

Basically my starting point was his Stand being extremely grotesque while Prosciutto himself looks deceptively normal, even by regular standards (if you take Italian fashion with the unbuttoned shirts and necklaces/chains, Prosciutto fits that style effortlessly). Meanwhile, in Vento Aureo at least, you don't have any characters who look grotesque but have perfectly normal looking Stands, because Carne looks exactly like someone who'd have Notorious B.I.G., and his characterization as someone downtrodden and miserable creates cohesion between these two designs. Meanwhile, despite his ability and Stand build, Prosciutto is very much a respected professional whose words and actions are consistent throughout, so all these factors considered, here you have someone who is just very, very Different.

Just look at this lineup. Look at it. Everyone else, you can tell by their fashion or their stance that they are trouble, and then there's this guy in the middle, just standing there with a thousand yard stare. It was pretty much this official art that gave me vibes like the short sleeper headcanon that I love to go with just because it is very congruous with his overall character (here's my original tweet on that). And eventually I also started thinking of ways in which The Grateful Dead could affect him, since he is not exactly immune to it, and that was how I started leaning into the idea that he might have certain senses damaged, most prominently taste, smell, and possibly some nerves being dulled. It's like... I wouldn't exactly call it equivalent exchange, but it adds some nuance where he isn't just your average pretty boy with a big dangerous toy, right? He has paid the price for what he is wielding, and he makes do with that, and is able to function and be a respectable person like that.

Plus it's like, it's just plain interesting and fun to work with these assets in a general setting, and play around with whatever makes this man a walking breathing cognitive dissonance. He goes to bed at 2 am and he's up at 6 am and they have no idea how he copes with having 20 hours days, but he somehow just does it. He snores like he's sleeping through demonic possession, but if you have a problem with that, several eyes open up all over him to stare at you until you think the better of it. He eats bone marrow and epoisses and ghost peppers because these are things that he can actually taste well. He can dull his own nerves on command so he doesn't need substance abuse to cope with anything. He is somehow on top of his affairs and everyone else's bullshit not just because he has 20 hour days, but because he's an obsessive micromanager and cares too much despite being a ruthless motherfucker. He's an angel, he's the grim reaper, he will pap your cheeks, he will mummify you in ten seconds, he can be your life coach or your doom. He could depopulate entire cities if he wanted to, but apparently he's fine being the member of an underpaid team because he is that committed. He can do all of this and he does all of this, and you just have to accept that he and his twelve anomalies exist.

[littlethingwithfeathers]

And listen... you can still live the homemaker dream. It's not an either/or situation. Not even a little. I'm the """domestic engineer""" for my polycule, but I absolutely have the ability, access, and knowledge to be independent if I needed to. Interdependence is absolutely okay and good in a lot of ways! I know -all- our mental health is better because house-stuff is taken care of. But it can leave you vulnerable if you depend on it blindly. Here's what you should do... -Have a bank account in your name. You don't have to do anything with it. But have it with a little money in it... enough to cover a month or so of bills so you're covered for a hot sec if there's an emergency. -If you've never paid rent in your name get your name on the rent/mortgage ASAP. (See also: me. I went from dorms to married and had no credit so my husband initially had all the rent stuff in his name but you can change it.) This gives you a credit history. -Same for anything you make payments on... car payment, utilities, internet. All that shit. Make sure it's in your name too so if something happens you are not in the fecal creek paddle-less. (not even like death or divorce... what if your partner ends up in the hospital for an extended time?) -Get your name on major assets. This is things like the deed to your home, cars, business stuff. It's yours too. Your work helps your partner be able to focus on their work which is how you afford those things. -Have a very small but real job. Medical transcription, hold down a desk in a nonprofit one day a week... something. That way you don't have a gap in your resume. And if at all possible, don't have it be a 1099 type job. Get a job with a W2. (Or whatever your country's equivalent is... basically get a job that contributes to taxes and social services for you) Or if you have a family business, make absolutely sure you're listed and paid as an employee with a job title. As an example, I do copyist work for our local symphony. It's maybe... 60 hours in a year. It's not much, and it doesn't pay super great, but this gives me a consistent work history and current references. -Get a credit card in your name and use it to buy one thing a month and then pay it off. Use it for something monthly and predictable, like an insurance payment or your google fiber payment (not another credit payment like a loan or credit card payment). Set that on autopay so that it has a zero balance at the end of the month. Otherwise, bury it in the backyard and don't use it. This will build your credit over time. (this is also good advice for building credit in general) Be involved with accounting for your household. You don't have to be the one paying the bills, but you should be able to access accounts, look at things, and make payments if you needed to. And you should be involved in major decisions if only for the practice. In my house this means any purchase over $200ish dollars gets at least a quick "Hey I want to buy this. Are we cool?" We also have a weekly meeting where we sit down and stare at our accounts and talk through expenses that have happened and are coming up. If you're being the domestic worker in your house, then you absolutely have a job that entitles you to access and a say in the money that work is helping to earn. (If the other partner(s) aren't doing laundry so they can work, then that's actually two people working). Also be present for major appointments with accountants, bank officials, and for major purchases like home/car etc. -Make sure if -you- the house-spouse are run over by a bus, your partner(s) have the ability to do -your- job. Make sure child care details are accessible to others in your household. Make sure any bills, services, accounts, etc in your name are all visible and accessible as well. If any of these are off limits to you because of any reason in the realm of "my partner wouldn't like it" or "our religion forbids it" please consider that's quite possibly abuse. Even """unintentionally.""" You are a whole person and deserve a say in your world.

the funniest thing about the tiktok tradwife craze is people learning financial abuse exists but like, as a hypothetical. "wait what if the relationship doesn't work out and you have nothing of your own and nowhere to go?" congratulations you figured out a common reason people remain in abusive relationships and why it's important to maintain some level of financial independence

[bluebunnysart]

Rain (Mikuteto sequel to Song fic) fanart: https://x.com/Slyvasta/status/1816039089239646720

look look look look look look!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

You don't even have to read said fic to look at the fanart, it's pretty spoiler-free!! I freaking love this.... I can't believe lightning struck twice and someone made me fanart of the sequel (like 5 days after posting too omg), I was staring at it some more last night and now I have it printed out and at my desk.... It's propping up my sanity fr fr, I love it so freaking much.

I love how "creature" Teto gets with each rendition of her: this artist gave her a horn, a visible fang, ears with a sharp point at the ends, and her wings are so based.... So far everyone has been consistent with the triangle tail too which is one of my favorite parts of her ofc so I love it 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤♥♥♥❤❤♥❤💖💖💓💓💓💓

So far I encounter fanart whenever I'm feeling bummed about something Negidrill-related?? It's so sweet and makes me so happy though, because seeing it just makes everything so worth it... This time they seemingly nuked my account for posting too much I think and it's still not back 😭 but I hope I get access to it again soon so I can RT all the beautiful Mktt art and post some more...

ANYWAY heavy fangirling and heavy fanfic spoilers below (I recommend reading the fanfics on AO3 before reading what I say below, unless you don't mind spoilers but I feel like "Rain" especially is best read blind lol)-- this has opened the gates to me yapping people's ears off about the setting bc at least one person likes it and even drew something for it, so nice 😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

I'm really glad I separated the fics the way I did, into 6k+ readable parts, because while it's technically a 12-13k word oneshot now, a two-parter written the way it is is good.... I do want to keep writing and making more, actually, but the next part is the hardest lmao and I want at least like 90k more words of slowburn so...?!? It'd have to turn into a multichapter something and idk how to approach that at ALL lol; I'll talk more about what I have in mind at the end of this. xD

If Song is a "Miku fanfic" because it's all about Miku and her motivations and why she does the things she does, then I would say Rain is a "Teto fanfic", even though Miku still shares a lot of the POV in it. This is obviously because we learn a bit more about Teto, even if it's not a major ton: you learn where she lives (in a cave 10+ minutes away); Miku is curious about Teto's home and is willing to walk there, but Teto goes "no" because she's only known Miku for about a day and isn't gonna invite a stranger to her place immediately even if it's Miku; and you learn about how Teto reacts to Miku's antics in general. This setting is also partially "Hello Planet" inspired ofc so Miku is really devoted to her mission of protecting/finding/singing songs since that's what she was made to do, so while Miku will try to protect herself, she really easily switches the priority order of things in her own mind and has no trouble putting herself second or third. That ticks Teto off ofc because Miku does the equivalent of jump off a mountain/hill/cliff, but Miku quickly learns that Teto doesn't like that so she won't be doing things as extreme as that anytime soon. Miku's "self-preservation" skills are basically subpar (since she doesn't fully grasp that sacrificing yourself for a small object isn't a reasonable thing to do even if it's really important to you lol) but they're improving thanks to Teto lmao. Likewise, Teto was also doing the bare minimum to survive, so she also has a little more motivation to continue to try so she can continue hanging out with Miku.

Regarding the type of animal/chimera Teto actually is, this artist said "bat wings" and they're not wrong hehe but it's specifically unspecified in both fics, so they could be bat wings, not-bat wings, creature wings, anything! I specifically leave it up for interpretation because interpretation is cool and Teto is also secretive (to me AND Miku), but if you want the author's two cents/guess, I'm thinking she's like a bat-dragon-creature hybrid. (That's right! ALL of them!! www)

In the first fic, Miku asks Teto if she can breathe fire and compares Teto to a dragon, but Teto says she won't spill her guts to Miku, aka tell her all about herself, especially when there's nothing in it for her. I dunno if anyone likes to randomly Google words sometimes like me (especially when writing), but one of the definitions for chimera says "(in Greek mythology) a fire-breathing female monster with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail." "Official" Teto doesn't even have a tail that isn't the belt under her skirt I think but since UTAU is up to interpretation, you could absolutely take parts of this definition and depict her as such.

I was thinking that in a desolate/ruined world like the one Teto lives in, it'd be pretty hard to survive without some tricks up her sleeve, so she probably can breathe fire, which she likely uses for light (the candle in her home), cooking her food, boiling water to disinfect it, etc. etc. There's no telling how good she is at it (maybe she's REALLY good at it or she has effort pulling it off), but I just have to say that I freaking LOVE Teto in this setting lol. I freaking love dragons too btw so I think it'd be so so soo cool if she was actually part dragon. Teto thinks dragons are cool too which is why she's pleased when Miku compares her to one, but anyway, keep in mind that even though I'm the author, a lot of what I say isn't actually set in stone or official/canon. That's why I called my fanart earlier "fanart of my fanfic" instead of "official art", because it's just another interpretation and I LOVE seeing other people's interpretations, like how this artist gave Teto a single horn. 🥰🥰🥰🥰 Teto really is full creature.... I wonder why she only has one.... Is it possible she might've had two before but she lost it or it was broken....? Teto with one intact horn and a half-broken horn, ooogh.....

I'm gonna take another couple minutes to gush about this Rain fanart again because I freaking love seeing how other people interpret (my) stuff and I'm really really into the kinds of scenes that were depicted. xD

I think the way they drew Teto in the top left is so cool.... Her wings are ALSO another highlight of her and I love them and I love how the artist drew them.... Sharp and cool.... I also like that the author depicted this scene in general-- it's not the first thing my mind thinks of when I think of making fanart of the fic, but it's so good. Which reminds me...

The reason Teto doesn't let Miku come over to her place immediately is because even though Teto gets attached to Miku quickly in the first fic, that doesn't mean she's willing to let her in immediately. In fact, in my first attempt at writing this sequel, she ends up falling asleep WHILE Miku is there because Teto has been awake for a whole day and hasn't slept so she basically pulled an all-nighter listening to songs with Miku-- she was gonna get sleepy/tired eventually. Anyway, since Teto fell asleep in front of her and being asleep is basically when you're at your most vulnerable, when Teto woke up, she (the character) was REALLY freaking difficult about it, lol. It was like you ran out of trust coins with her and she resisted my every attempt to make her and Miku's friendship/relationship progress in any way. 😭 It was like "(dark/emo voice) I've shown you a moment of weakness, I can't let that happen ever again (*stands in the shadows dramatically*)" and I was like "omg Teto FINE I understand, I started the fic off wrong, I'll rewrite it 😭😭😭😭".

It's not like she lashes out at Miku or anything, she just straight up berates herself for falling asleep in the garbage dump (which, why would she do that anyway, she hates that place, even if Miku and the music make it a little more comfy), so she just got really distant/cold/short with Miku. Any attempt Miku made to get closer to her in any way would be swiftly shot down (without explanation too I think 'cuz she shouldn't have to explain her own boundaries and she doesn't like talking that much about herself), and it was way too awkward for me to continue without going "what kind of Mikuteto fic is this lmao" so I started over.

The spirit of that interaction isn't gone, ofc-- they're still the same characters. But I rewrote it to have Teto basically stay up even longer than she already was and I made sure that Miku was understanding and wasn't too pushy in any way. In other words, Teto probably still would've been resistant to Miku getting close to her anyway (since that's her character/personality), but Miku didn't push it, and Teto didn't accidentally reveal her vulnerable side before she was ready to (falling asleep in front of Miku). You might think Teto's overreacting a little bit but in the wild, falling asleep in front of the "enemy" is like a surefire way to get killed I think (in your sleep lol), so yeah, Teto trusts Miku, but only tentatively. Teto's trust issues are both valid and higher than usual because of all the things she saw/lived through (heck, humans are literally extinct and that's because they couldn't trust their world leaders or those around them or something, idk, lol). I love Teto because she's actually nice and she's doing her best but she's really been beaten down by the world which is why she's harsher/more high tension than Miku is.

We also have to remember that even if she's like a creature and some bats apparently eat rats, Teto is also humanoid and she DOESN'T like rats AT ALL. xD I don't remember if I mentioned this anywhere so I'll put it here, but Teto only eats because she has to, to live. xD She fukken hates rats but they're probably somewhat reliable to catch (we can talk about the actual state of the world and what lives in it later, after I myself flesh it out more lol), so she's basically forcing herself to eat them just so she won't die of starvation or be too weak to fly or anything. Since she's part-creature, I was thinking she only eats like once a week maybe, and that's enough for her to skate by on the bare minimum, but that also explains why she doesn't notice Miku immediately. The garbage dump is huge and she only visits when she's forced to since she hates the sight, smell, and everything of it.

Besides her lack of trust so far, the other reason Teto doesn't invite Miku to her place is 'cuz she literally doesn't expect the rain to magically appear so suddenly. I think the world probably goes entire weeks without rain, kind of like a desert, so Teto thought that that would continue and doesn't see the point of bringing Miku along when Teto can just bring things herself and NOT carry Miku instead. The nature of the world is, again, extreme weather, which I think includes "fast and drastic changes in weather" too. So, while Teto could've expected it, she doesn't anticipate it, so her reaction is probably literally like "what the hell is this timing" and a lot of cursing in her head as she's flying back to the garbage dump in the pouring rain. xD

When I write, I don't have everything planned out; instead, the characters/ideas come to me as I write and lead me along. So the reason I had things play out like that is 'cuz a voice in my head told me "their relationship will only progress with adversity lol" and there was a thunderstorm on the day I got the idea, including the sound of thunder, so I was like, "Oh!! Great idea!!!! Put them in a thunderstorm and watch what happens!!!" (Watch Teto panic lol.)

I got sidetracked from gushing about the fanart again but I also wanted to add that I like that Teto has a visible fang (in the bottom left) because I totally agree!! Girl definitely has sharp teeth/fangs... In fact, when I draw her ('cuz I hope to draw her more), I'll definitely be giving her a fang. I love those. 🥰🥰🥰

The Teto infodumping is not done (unfortunately? lol) and I hope that this is all implied/picked up from the fanfic instead of me just failing to convey that (I try to give as much info as needed but also I like it when people come to their own conclusions/fill the gaps in on their own, like why Teto acts the way she does and what she's been through [there's not THAT much substance tbh and if you dismiss her as a tsundere, that's also a totally acceptable read 'cuz she is one]), but yeah-- these are all MY feelings about her while I was writing her and as I continue to think about her.

Continuing, the thing I liked the most about "Rain" (my second fanfic) was the action parts lol. In the first fic, they mostly just talk and chill, which is cute and all, but I also like it when things happen/there's action, so I was delighted to give Miku the opportunity to just go for it. xD

The first part should be self-explanatory: Miku is a robot who has her eyes closed in the rain on top of a bunch of trash and is curled into a ball so it shouldn't be too surprising that Teto freaks tf out because Teto's under the impression she had a good/chance/one-of-a-kind encounter with Miku a day earlier and then she ruined it/Miku just fukken died so... After everything Teto's lost, Teto is not happy. Tbh thinking about it, she probably could've reacted more strongly too, but she's mostly still in shock/not accepting it so her first instinct is to just call out to Miku and pray. Teto's not good at expressing her emotions/herself anyway, so I think it's a good choice that I switched to Miku's POV for that bit, but this moment obviously sticks with her and you can see that in the very last scene of the fic (which I'll talk about in a second).

The second part (my favorite part really) is when Miku dives after the Walkman after it flies out of her hands and starts bouncing down the trash pile. Miku reacts immediately and catches it, but she starts to imitate the fan animation of Rolling Girl as she herself starts falling down the trash pile instead. Teto reacts like a second or two later, diving after her. I wanted to prepare a quick MS Paint visual to explain why Teto does not agree with Miku's life choices. xD

Anyway this is why Teto freaks tf out. xD It probably wouldn't have killed Miku since she'd hit stuff on the way down (how sturdy Miku is, we have yet to know) but Teto really did not enjoy seeing this and she was serious about it probably having the capability to give her a heart attack. I hope I conveyed that in the fic well-- a better artist or writer would probably be able to convey the sheer cinematic movie imagery of this scene in the thunderstorm/horrible weather. xD I'm just happy it's out there and Miku really proved that she's not all talk-- she WILL do what she says she will, so ultimately, she can be trusted. xD Thankfully Teto saves her before she can fall very far because Teto is a cool creature and I've always fawned over the creature in a creature x (non-)human pairing more than the human. (Miku is great though; they BOTH carry the story equally, I think, and they gotta, since it's THEIR story. xD)

Okay, some more words and then I'm done gushing. xD

The very last scene is also one of my favorites for obvious reasons, even though it's a tad bit embarrassing to read it back to myself. xD I was thinking that after the stress of the entire day and not sleeping, Teto finally falls asleep, and this time, she won't resist as much because she's learned more about Miku's devotion/dedication, which is kinda on par with a suicide bomber. 😅 Teto is now less worried about Miku suddenly betraying her/hurting her and more worried about Miku literally getting herself killed and hurting her that way, so I guess there's been a significant shift in mindset, lol. After only about two days, lmao; Teto's trust issues didn't go away or anything, but now she's probably really confused about how to deal with Miku so she's trying to learn. xD 😂😂 I think the best way to describe Miku is "willing to DIE for song" lmaoooooooooooooooo sorry wwwwww

Like, the steep drop is a steep drop, yeah, but I wonder if the reader picked up that if the Walkman had fallen into the ocean or something, Miku would've jumped after it too? That would really upset Teto too, hahahaha; I'm sorry, I won't do that wwwwwww. Teto will literally throw the Walkman into a pit of lava. I'm actually laughing just thinking about how different their reactions would be. xD

Okay, back to the end scene. xD Well, a little before that: I have Teto hug a pillow on her bed because I mainly wanted to show the part where she curls her tail around it. It is kinda like a body pillow, I will admit, and I was actually lowkey inspired by this very same artist's other picture (Mikuteto is so based, I love this image so much xD) but it's mainly the tail thing. xD Teto wraps her tail around the stuff she hugs and she's cute and not as edgy as her design implies (she's very cool though, I love her 💞) and yeah. The idea is to stir the imagination for later because I want her to hug Miku like that eventually too, with the tail around her and everything. But we're really far from such a scene and idk how to lead to it quite yet so it's for future Mikutetos. ( uwu )

The very last scene is a moment of vulnerability for Teto because 1. she's had a near heart attack twice and 2. she hasn't slept for approximately 20 hours I think? Which may not seem like a lot but bear in mind that she lives on the bare minimum, flew quite a lot in both fics, and she even carried Miku, so she's fukken tired. xD Singing and listening to music/singing finally calms her enough to knock her out, but then she remembers Miku diving off the side of the mountain and she wakes up in a panic. She hasn't had enough sleep though, which Miku correctly points out, so she's sleep-deprived and worried and nervous, so she's a lot more vulnerable than all her other appearances. I wonder if I could've conveyed this better by giving her like a wholeass monologue or nightmare or something, but I like to present things a lot and let people infer, so I won't be modifying my fic very much, just gushing about it by myself and thinking about everything I included in it. xD

ANYWAY, Teto isn't in her normal state for various reasons and that was how I figured out how to progress Mikuteto by a bit lol-- by making her kinda needy but of course she would rather die than say that out loud, so she acts very normally throughout her conversation with Miku. Actually, now that I think about it, we can probably apply this same format/logic to her first encounter with Miku in the rain. xD I find this Teto very very endearing, personally: she won't let you know what she's thinking about or feeling, so the outside and the inside are a very very different picture. I'm not romanticizing coldness or anything, of course-- rather, I'm most interested in finding out how Miku allows Teto to relax and be more honest and less guarded with her emotions as time passes, 'cuz Miku is a safe person to express herself to. 🥰🥰🥰

I think I finished fangirling about the setting (I'm not kidding when I say this fanart made me release the floodworks; I was always thinking all of this but I didn't want to shove it in people's faces because I didn't know how into it they are, LOOL. This is the perfect excuse for me to go wild and maybe I should do that in the first place, but I like letting people interpret, so I didn't want to get in the way of that by influencing them too hard. xD). There's not much else for me to spell out I think without insulting the reader's intelligence by this point, so I think that's all I can say about "Rain". I literally didn't think I'd get fanart and it makes me so happy for real; it's hard for me to gauge how much someone liked something unless they tell me and I was already immensely happy after the first kudos, so this is way more than I expected. I'm really really happy about it. 😭♥🙏 The Mktt fandom is small I think so we all lowkey know each other? But the people in it can be so kind; I'm really grateful to it. <3 I infodumped a whole lot more than I did for Song/the first fanart, but trust me, I still love the first fanart with all of my heart: I printed it as a poster and it's taped to my wall, lmfao. I treasure all fanart... You're too kind.... 😭

The very last thing I'll say is I think I'll give a tiny diagram of Teto's cave (so far) in case people want to visualize how I saw it in my head (you're absolutely welcome to make something better c:), and then I'll talk briefly about what I have in mind for future stuff (quick answer: I still need things to marinate in my mind but I'm absolutely willing to throw stuff at the wall and tackle it repeatedly and see what sticks c:).

(Subject to change if I come up with anything better!) Miku actually does sit farther away from Teto after Teto is asleep in her bed which helps explain why the chimera internally complains about it lol. Miku probably moved to avoid disturbing Teto lmao.

Okay, last thoughts! Writing a third one will be hard as hell because after establishing each chara's quirks and bond and whatnot, all that's left is the slowburn part of the romance. And yeah, it WILL be slow, because like I said in my author's notes before, Teto is stubborn and Miku is inexperienced. What would follow is various slice of life tidbits as they try to navigate the desolate world and learn new things, and I feel like it would be stronger if they DID encounter another creature, which helps Teto decide that "yeah, Miku is literally better than anyone else" lol. Teto IS smart and love is kinda the last thing on her mind, I'd say, but even if she did think she was feeling it, she'll immediately question if it's due to being so isolated for so long with barely any company and that's a really valid question imo. In other words, "do I think it's love because she's the only person I know and I'm lonely or would I still feel the same way if things were different, even if I don't think they will be?"

I feel like their whole relationship and the fic would be much stronger if those questions were answered, so while I could and wanted to make it Mikuteto only forever (since I think they'd always choose each other-- I'm biased), I still want them to explore their full potential idk. All I know is Teto WILL overthink it and that's just part of her charm, imo. xD Plus the nature of a tsundere is to deny, deny, deny until a thunderstorm almost takes her (Miku) away and damages her grievously, lmao.

I guess if anyone's curious about what I have in mind so far and actually read this far, what I do know for a fact is directly after this fic, Teto probably follows Miku around like some kinda guard dog/eagle, and since they're looking for more songs, Miku doesn't mind and enjoys the company as they search. Miku likes singing the songs she finds, which includes various love songs, and she wants to become more human-like, which helps her feel closer to her creators. (Plz tell me people picked up on the various references to how Miku is a voice synthesizer and how that influences her relationship with producers, or "humans", plsplspls.)

What I have in mind so far is Miku showing off her "sleep" function to Teto (basically just entering low power mode so she can "sleep" like Teto does) [Teto: "i dont want to see you look dead, why do you keep doing things that make you look dead 😭😭😭"], and Miku singing love songs while trying to understand what she's singing about. Teto is obviously Miku's guide to "human-ness" (even as a creachure lol), so Miku does ask her about love, but naturally Teto answers very awkwardly since she's not sure if she's a good consultant for this subject.

There's probably no question that Miku's going to be the one mainly leading the development instead of Teto as Miku learns more, so I think I just need Miku to learn a looot. xD They can probably achieve this by finding books or movies or something that weren't damaged by the harsh weather. Any buildings left? Hmm....

I've been yapping for about 2 hours now I think but I'm really happy to do so... This is fukken why Twitter suspended me I bet btw, because I don't shut up about the things I'm passionate about, but I didn't even tweet that much so 💢💢💢💢💢😠😠😠😡. Shouldn't spam be like 50-100 tweets a day or something?? I only get spammy very infrequently and then it's like a fraction of that I think, but either I'm underestimating myself or the functionality of the site after a certain someone took over. I hope it's restored and idk how long it'll take thanks to the site sucking, but at least there's a Teto waiting for me in like two weeks so whatever happens, I'll begrudgingly accept. xD

Fanart makes me extremely happy and sure, I want to mainly do things for myself, but seeing someone else like or care about something I made seriously fills me with joy. xD I do feel validated enough to write something as long as this (pls dont mark me as spam, DAMN), but yeah! Mktt fandom is small right now but I hope it grows-- that way I'm not the only one here trying to make as much stuff as possible for them because I love them. xD Then I also know you like my stuff because you genuinely like it and not 'cuz it's your only option/you're starved for content. xD

Thanks to anyone who read all of this and I'm really delighted about the love my random fics/AU got. It really was unplanned for real but Miku and Teto are so good and I've been thoroughly enjoying portraying them in my fic, if that doesn't show from how much I've written just now. xD

I'm not a "content creator", just a really passionate fan, so I want to make Mikuteto stuff whether I get 0 fanart or 0 kudos or what. (My heart will sink a little if I get 0 kudos but it's mainly because I don't want to be the only Mktt-liker and I hope at least ONE person likes it, I try very hard on my stuff lol), but yeah... Enough yapping now. I'm still passionate about these two but I'm trying not to turn my blog into a text-only thing: I'm gonna draw/make more for sure, but fanfic-wise, it will take time.

Negidrill fukken rocks, so damn it,,, damn,,, give me my fukken Negidrill account back 😭. Punished for loving too much, smh. I could talk about why they mean so much to me, but the most obvious reason is they're awesome, so I'll keep loving them. I hope people make more, and I'll keep going too.... I'm just gonna check the word count of this real quick.

4936 words. Yeah, see? This is basically a follow-up to my fic, lmfao.

That's it from me now for real. I need to do lots of stuff. 😭

[quelleknowssome]

Animal Insomnia

My Brother called me to ask me if I thought animals could experience insomnia. The logical answer is probably not. I could look it up, of course, but I prefer to speculate because speculation is way more fun than being smart. Smart people don’t have fun, just depression, so I like to think my stupidity is a blessing in disguise. Or I guess I like to speculate. Because speculation -as we’ve established- is way more fun.

Do animals experience insomnia? Or something similar? I hope not. If I were a bear and I couldn’t sleep, I imagine I’d go on a rampage. Picture with me a moment the bear that can’t sleep:

I’ll say for all intents and purposes that this is a brown bear with a fairly consistent sleep schedule. Supposing this bear is used to sleeping for X number of hours at Y time every night, seven days a week (or however many days bears choose to recognize), she must be quite perturbed. She must lay down and stare at her ceiling (or the bear equivalent) and spend some time aware she is awake when she should not be. This is of course attributing to bears an awareness we can only guess they do not have. But I don’t know the minds of bears.

Perhaps this bear would get a snack, depending on the time of year, some kind of berry. But maybe there are no berries. Bears don’t have too many predators, so maybe the bear would simply go for a walk to clear her head. What she must be contemplating I cannot pretend to imagine, but I will anyways because speculation is fun. The things that keep human people up are far from the things that must keep bears up; this rules out taxes, carpool, townhall dockets, all the things wrong with the show Friends, the words to the song Copacabana, whether or not she can pay the bills, her failing marriage, that One Girl From Highschool, bad haircuts, workplace blunders, a small business idea, how long it's been since she has dusted, and The Sports. If cats can have anxiety, I suppose bears can too. I’d imagine she could be anxious about a number of things, maybe the fact she can’t sleep itself. The bear, walking around as she is, some amount aware of the fact that she cannot sleep and is wasting the night, may perhaps spiral.

How much will this lack of sleep throw off her week?

What if she can’t do everything she needs to?

What if she was failing before?

What does she even need to do?

 What does it mean to be a bear?

But all of this of course is a rough translation, and really her thoughts are probably something much closer to:

“Auuuuuuurghhh” (You try spelling a growl and then you can judge me).

At this point I imagine she does one of two things:

1. Starts destroying any and everything in sight

2. Takes the bear equivalent of drugs

Dolphins huff pufferfish, monkeys and bees eat fermented fruit, and people smoke, drink, and make Pinterest boards for weddings they’ll never have because love is unattainable. It really isn’t a reach to suppose bears have figured out mushrooms or some kind of Edible equivalent. But then, I don’t know the consumption habits of bears.

At this point she has either rampaged herself sleepy or taken something quite effective and gone home to lay down. She will no doubt have some very odd dreams (supposing bears –like dogs and people- can dream) and sleep like a rock.

[dontforgetabtme]

A Metaphor For Fidelity; Part Two.

very requested. I hope this lives up to expectations but I’m really not sure? I really struggled to come up with a concept for this so I’m sorry if it disappoints💖💖💖💖

ELLIOT X READER, 18+

Never in my life would I expect to compare myself to the death of Anne Boleyn. My head hangs low while I walk to my locker, as if a sword was soon to come in contact with my cervical spine. My cheeks glow red with nerves; the fear of the man I now loathe coming any where near me being on the front of my mind. Similar to Anne, my situation involves adultery. An affair between my lover and his friend causing the sword to ultimately strike down the centre of our relationship with one, effortless stroke.

I rushed to collect my belongings from my locker and leave. Clearing my mind as I did this to ensure no tears will be shed at the sight of Elliot in my peripheral vision. He was stood with Rue: an old friend of mine. Rue and I spent all of our days together when we were just children. The memories of our past are now fading, slowly I realise that the stories of us now take me multiple minutes to remember completely. I’m sure all of Rues friends/enemies would tell you this, but the drugs did not only effect her, my life was altered just as much as hers. She had lived a tragic life - near that of Anne Boleyn.

My day consisted of nothing but two things: going out of my way to find new routes around the school, (so I didn’t accidentally make uncomfortable eye contact with ‘he who shall not be named’) and refreshing my order information on my clothes order. I was reminded by Maddy that it is simply unacceptable to go to my first party single and not have a brand new outfit.

Days like these depressed me. I feel the constant need to be doing something, like half of my mind has run off and the other half is panting, sweating even, to try and catch up.

I looked at my phone and saw the date was May 19th. I made a mental note of this date, for a reason I am unaware of. This date just stuck with me, meaning the events to follow also stuck on my person. Equivalent to the guilt attached to the infamous, Anne Boleyn.

• • •

“Bitch, you are so hot it’s unreal.”

Maddy was known for being a ‘mean girl’ ,but in all honesty, I thought she was one of the most loyal, caring people I know. She had just gone through some terrible things, terrible things that were unfortunately done by a terrible man.

I turned to my reflection in the mirror. An insecure, scared teenage girl looked back at me. Jules didn’t look like I did, Jules was ‘model pretty’. She has a look about her that just captivated you. Her slender figure making all those who looked at her audibly gasp. But she’s just a girl. Who am I to let the girl who slept with my boyfriend make me insecure? Fuck her. Fuck how she made me feel, but, fuck, I was still nervous.

I didn’t have time to think anymore thoughts worth remembering because I was being dragged down the stairs of Maddy’s front garden and into Kat’s car. Loud music accompanied the vehicle, I found myself smiling. I enjoyed smiling; I felt like a relief. A relief from my recent moods. I cant help but feel for those her never saw relief; who’s lives ended before they were able to restore the mess they were involved with prior.

“I’m going to get so fucked up tonight.”

The girls laughed and nodded their heads.

I wandered around the strangers house with my head held high, almost as high as me. I had smoked so much weed that night that I didn’t care what I did. I let boys kiss me, I let girls touch me, but mainly, I let Elliot stand there and watch. Oh, and Jules.

Jules and Elliot stood together the whole night. She had made multiple advances to him but he declined eveyone, instead staring at me with the same expression in his eyes as those in 1536 who felt bad watching the queen become only a head.

I was dancing with a boy I later found out was called Eric. His hands were calloused and tough, his mouth was too rough on mine, and his beard scratched my face in way that made me cringe. The alcohol clearly causing me to go blind. The only thing stopping me from ripping his hand off of my waist was the lasers lined with jealousy that protruded from Elliot’s eyes. I knew he was upset. But I didn’t care. So I lifted my hand and put up my middle finger. I hope he got the message.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Her voice made me want to die right then and there. Jules came out of nowhere attempting to be Elliot’s knight in shining armour. She was the epitome of embarrassment at this point. She stood tall in front of me awaiting a reaction.

The room feel silent. The music being the only sound.

I looked up at her with only my eyes. Keeping my head lodged straight. I felt nothing. I felt nothing from stopping me from knocking her out. For punishing her for putting me through nights of crying on my mothers lap like a sad puppy, nights of wishing I could remove me face and replace it with hers, nights that I should’ve spend with him.

Violence would not be a good way to go as I would probably get way to embarrassed and end up feeling way, way worse. So I took the drink from my hands and threw it in her face, it wasn’t the punishment she deserved. If it was legal I’d have her head on a wooden block; id have guards escorting me to my palace where I would sit in my throne and replay the moment in my head time and time again.

I wished she was Anne Boleyn.

As I did this, I saw Elliot leave. As if he didn’t want to be accused as the person responsible for the tension between me and the girl. I walked out to follow him. To get the last word. To let him know that he means nothing to me anymore.

I stood on the stairs next to where he was stood, smoking.

“Your girlfriends in there you know.” I said.

“She’ll never be my girlfriend.” He replied.

I wanted to say “I know”, I wanted to say, “she can never compare to what you had” but I didn’t. I laughed. I laughed a stood up. Standing directly in front of the 6’0 ft man. I laughed again. I kicked him right in his crotch, a grunt followed by a wince of pain escape his lips.

That was when I realised that it’s more fun to play the villain in any situation. Whether it be bad or good, accident or purpose, your fault or theirs.

I realised I’d rather play Henry VIII, than his estranged, unfaithful wife.

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[saltpepperbeard]

Ravenous ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Well hello hello again lol! A bit weird, huh? I don’t know why exactly I had a sudden surge of motivation, but quite honestly, I’m not mad at it. While the shot I wrote a few days back was a more original idea of sorts, this one was an “anonymous” suggestion. A rather EYEBROW RAISING SUGGESTION™ if you know what I’m saying ha! But for whatever reason, dialogue and ideas started flowing, and here we are! Just couldn’t help but explore Katniss desiring to Spice Things Up a bit. With that being said shjdkhskdls-

Disclaimer: This fic contains NC-17 related material, but y’all been knew. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GETTING INTO LMAO.

And without further adoooooo...

Ravenous

It’s happening again. Our bedroom seems to rival that of the setting sun, the two dancing and paralleling. Just as the clouds and sky melt into orange, I too, find myself at its mercy. Just as the sun plunges beneath the horizon, so too, do our pelvises atop each other’s. Just as it sets fire to the grasses and trees as it plummets from sight, so too, do our roaming mouths and hands against each other’s bodies.

And just as the sunset is habitual, expected, so is the explosion within. It’s like clockwork. It’s like the mighty star’s journey across the sky. A soft, inviting, and consistent brightness is maintained throughout the day, before utterly exploding into color and passion as ebony surges forth.

The newness and its subsequent excitement must be why it’s so incredibly enticing, so normal in our schedule. To think, I used to be one with the dawn. The coldness, the solitude, and the call for survival...all were my essence. Now though, do I dance and take pleasure in the dusk, flooding with fiery color before all runs dark.

Not that I’m complaining in the slightest. No, I’m a medley of breathy giggles, mewled moans, and messy kisses. The usual, the expected, and the blissful.

So a subsequent shift in the cycle, in the ecstatic repetition, does indeed throw me when it presents.

Losing myself in Peeta each and every night allows my hunger to break free, spilling forth after being locked up for so long. It gnaws, it feasts, and it satisfies, before settling back to a hush, properly quenched. His initial touches, caresses, and kisses do marvels at igniting the starting flames. His following motions and salacious actions work wonders at surging the fire to a roar. And then his sweetness dampens the blaze into finality, into exhausted ashes.

But tonight...Tonight, it’s different. It feels...wrongfully intense.

I am not hungry- I am ravenous. It roars within me as if it’s never been satiated at all. It howls, screams, gnashing for a deeper satisfaction. The area between my legs aches almost painfully so, and the heat surging through my core snarls that it won’t be bested so easily.

Such a sensation almost feels instinctual, animalistic even. And with that notion crossing my mind, an odd picture presents itself within my subconscious. A symbolic representation? Or is it a solution, a suggestion that the deeper confines of my hankering body has pulled up? Either way, it’s bizarre, and subsequently earns a deep blush to my cheeks.

The image of a stag mounting a doe.

It’s something I’ve seen on rare occasion while hunting, a deeply intimate and almost sacred moment birthed from nature’s way. But translating such an intrusive image into our bedroom, into the current situation, and connecting the dots between the symbolism and the craving...

...Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flush impossibly more so.

What an oddity. Peeta more than satisfies me. He gives me something no one else could possibly come close to offering. He takes me to realms unthinkable, and charts depths once-unexplored. And yet, does my body yearn.

What a foreign desire. I never could have pictured myself in such a position- or...intensely aching for one, rather. With carnal intimacy being so new to me, to the both of us, I never expected my body to erect anything of the sort. But I suppose, the deeper and deeper we traverse in one another, the more and more we’ll unlock. I guess there are still things to be discovered about each other, and complex layers of intimacy waiting to be unlocked...

“...Katniss?”

As if my cheeks couldn’t grow any more fiery.

I must have been quite disconnected, lost in thought and libidinous imagination. My grey eyes rapidly blink to break from the haze, but the desire still careens within. Venturing out from the fog reveals Peeta once more though, his beautiful, bare, handsome form hovering atop me. He too, is flushed, small beads of sweat glistening atop his scarred skin to compliment the fiery sheen within his darkened eyes.

But where there would be normally be a crooked smile, or an agape expression of pleasure, there instead exists confusion, concern.

When our eyes finally meet with clarity, he reaches to softly cup my cheek.

“Hey...” he murmurs, his voice still husky, breathy, “You alright?”

I cannot help but swallow hard. How the hell am I supposed to vocalize such a thing? Is it too taboo to ask for? The idea of...Peeta...taking me from behind?

I’m a mess, shutting my eyes and turning my face into his hand, as if to hide myself away.

“Hey...” His voice sounds more concerned, and a bit warmer. Some of the huskiness has disappeared too. And subsequently, a spark of desperation alights within me; perhaps because the hunger screeches at me to maintain heat.

“Sweetheart-”

Softening sentiments are cut off by a carnal kiss, my body piloting me to fight the dip. I lace my hands around the back of his head and pull his stunned form closer, breathily moaning through the connection. When I feel his lips begin to part though, when I practically taste the confused question forming on his tongue...

I know I have no choice. I know it’s now or never. And if I could stare the hunger dead on, if I could address its call and dive into vulnerabilities with Peeta before...

Surely I can do this too. Hopefully.

“Peeta?” I quickly interject.

I expect him to remain close, but just as ferocious desire pilots me, so too does compassionate concern steer him. He leans as far back as he can with my hands laced through his hair, staring with those inquisitive, stunning blues.

“...Katniss?”

“I...I...”

Just as the first time we delighted in one another, my throat threatens to lock up from anxiety, from fear of the unknown. Just as before, I find it horribly difficult to vocalize my wants. But in knowing that soft and concerned stare, in understanding the eyes that expectantly wait, and in feeling far fierier than previous times, I find the strength I need to produce a voice.

“...Can we...try something different?”

Nerves drive me to bite my swollen lip, as if Peeta’s going to react poorly or something equivalent. But as truly expected, he blinks the concern away before the tension visibly melts above me.

“Oh! Yeah, uh...sure,” he murmurs, beginning to smile despite lingering bits of confusion still present in his brows, “Is that why you...?”

“Yes...”

“Oh,” he breathes, chuckling softly before leaning back in for another kiss. He nestles close once more, our bare forms pressing and creating small hints of tantalizing friction. Be it the throbbing within, or the very present feeling of his erection between us, I break the kiss with quickened pants.

Unbothered now, and in a better understanding towards my desperation, he moves to kiss and bite at my neck. My hips and eyes both roll, the intense lust leaving me less bothered by the various noises sounding from my throat.

Peeta too, must be quickly getting tugged back; I feel him twitch before he softly grunts into the tender skin of my collar.

“What would you like?” he huskily whispers, topping off the question by tracing my bone with his tongue.

Between nerves and the sensations he’s dizzying me with, I briskly shake my head.

“Don’t make me say it...” I wheeze.

I feel his mouth turn upwards against my skin, and he chuckles before drawing forth artistry, painting his way up my neck and cheeks with brushing lips.

“Alright...” he says thickly, and I think I can feel him quivering slightly, “Show me then?”

I tense, but catching his stare grounds me. Beyond the drippings of ebony lust and fiery coals, I can see that beautiful understanding, that adoration with zero judgement. It’s what drove me to explore initially, and thus, does it fuel me once more.

My hands come to rest upon his muscular chest, quivering ever so slightly as I give a gesturing push. He follows my direction without hesitation, moving until we’re both sitting up on the bed. Another bout of hesitance grips me, but upon seeing the sight of him, heavily engorged and nearly flush against his stomach, I break through once again.

My stare manages to break to a necessity then, gazing upon his amputated leg with another bite of my lip.

“Your prosthetic...”

I can see his breath catch, watching his chest heave as I momentarily avoid his stare.

“...I need it?” he whispers.

I can only nod, and he thankfully doesn’t press, scurrying off to retrieve and reattach it. I’m piloted once more; my body seizes the opportunity to get into position while he’s not looking. Though my heart pounds something terrible, though trembles alight in my limbs, I roll onto my hands and knees, poised and ready for what I crave.

Peeta’s to my backside now, so I cannot see his reaction to what I’m offering. I can certainly hear it though, as well as almost feel it, the room seemingly spiking in temperature the moment he notices.

“O-oh...”

I tremble in both deep anticipation and tension, still unable to look at him. There’s a bit of pause though, and right when I think I’ve made a mistake, I feel the bed shift with the re-introduction of his weight. My thighs clench something terrible at his presence behind me, and I feel my entire lower half quivering.

Made even worse when Peeta groans my name.

“Katniss...”

The amount of lust is incredible. I could almost rocket myself backwards upon him. It’s wild, and hard to imagine how I wound up in such a position. But through the salaciousness, through the smoke clouding my brain, nerves still manage to peek.

“Is...this okay?” I shakily whisper.

“Yeah...” he breathes, and I nearly run woozy at the sensation of his hands ghosting my curves, “Is this...?”

I almost move beyond my own control, thrusting my hips backward and placing myself into his grasp. It’s his turn to tremble, and he groans yet again.

“God...Katniss...”

I’m his craft once more. His hands grasp me, knead me, squeezing my voluptuous backside as he would when he prepares dough. And just as the touch readies dough for heat, it too, sets me utterly ablaze.

Unbridled moans and mewls sound from my throat at his massage, my legs spreading wider and my back arching further. There’s barely a connection between anxiety and my ravenous core anymore, hunger almost entirely at the helm.

“God...” Peeta moans again, and such a noise pushes me into raw desperation.

“Peeta...” I whimper in a tone so unlike my own, “Peeta...”

We’re on the same plane. He understands immediately. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just as hungry as I am, made raw by the sight before him.

So he quickly rectifies the situation. I feel the bed shift, before he brings a shaky hand to grasp one of my hips. I’m barely breathing, barely able to process with such deep anticipation. His following words almost don’t reach me, what with the beautifully torturous feeling of his head just barely brushing betwixt my folds.

“Okay...I love you, Katniss...”

I somehow wheeze, somehow manage, those words landing when nothing else can.

“I love you too- AH!”

I’m no stranger to the feeling of Peeta sheathing himself deep within me, to holding him snuggly and tightly in a space reserved just for him. We’ve danced in it and dazzled in each other so much lately that it’s, in fact, almost become something of a second nature.

So it’s definitely strange that just a mere change can have electrifying, incredible effects.

The cry from his entrance was utterly unavoidable; he feels deeper and heavier than ever before. I’m stunned at how different it feels, at the intensity behind it. He’s within familiar grounds, and yet it feels entirely new.

I’m dazed, but my hunger is utterly elated. It sings at the feeling, rejoices, driving me to slide myself backwards against him, swallowing him impossibly deeper.

His groan intersects beautifully with mine, the both of us likely relishing in the sensations. When I dare to ease my hips forward again, I feel Peeta’s other hand reach to grasp. With his hold complete, he pulls me back as he thrusts deeply.

And I already find that I’m quickly losing control, everything working to utterly unravel me.

The strokes, so deep and reaching, quickly earn a stream of incoherence from my hanging mouth. I moan and whimper and grunt a plenty, weaving a tapestry of pleasured nothings.

“Mmm...Oh, God...Peeta...”

There’s also something about this that strangely seems to amplify, something that makes it the most different from our previous sessions: I cannot see him. I cannot see the beautiful, wrenched effort on his visage, nor can I steal the moans from his lips. I cannot latch myself to his tender neck, nor can I run my fingers through his ashy locks.

It’s just the sensation of him within me. Nothing more but his powerful drives and our precious connection.

No wonder it’s so raw, so animalistic indeed.

But perhaps, not mutual.

Where I would expect Peeta to take off, to drive with reckless abandon, he instead remains...oddly consistent with his glides. They’re heavenly, and reaching, but unamplified. In fact, instead of speeding up as expected, he seemingly slows within me.

Such a turn, a difference in the usual chain of events, is enough to whip my head around. It’s my turn to furrow with confusion and concern, squinting through the intense mindfog to finally lay eyes upon him.

Which ends up being a blessing and a curse; the sight of him in such a position is almost enough to send me reeling further. Seeing him kneeling, grasping my hips, panting with reddened cheeks, and disappearing deep within...

A shiver runs up the length of my spine, exiting through my mouth as my voice just barely manages to quiver his name.

“...P-Peeta?”

“I...Um...”

It’s like we’ve switched places, what with him being apprehensive and me existing in a realm of thirst and confusion. Just as before, a cock of the brow and a building question is what spurs the opposite party into explanation.

“I’m...It’s going to sound...cheesy, okay? But I uh...It’s...Different I guess, not being able to...look at your face. Or kiss you. Or...”

He shifts himself a bit as he reaches for my face with a hand, effectively sending himself inward at a deep, torturous angle. It drives me strangely mad, my eyes rolling and my throat resonating with a squeak. It feels so foreign, to be reduced to this. And in my state, in my heightened desperation, I find myself blurting without much control.

“-Keep going.”

He freezes then, inside and out, looking upon me with widened blues. Such an expression mildly grounds me, offering a pang of guilt and a subsequent apology to follow.

“Sorry...” I wheeze, “I...I didn’t mean...If...you’re not...”

I’m a mess with my attempts to breathily stammer. But just as further guilt begins to bud, just as I fear I’ve forced him into an uncomfortable place, he gives such an unexpected and strong jerk of his hips that I yelp into the tense space.

When the shock leaves my system, when the static clears my brain, I’m able to see him beginning to smile once more, a bit more lecherous than before.

“Hmm...You know, different...might not be so bad then...”

“But-”

Again, he tortuously cuts me off, giving another strong jerk and sending me careening.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, looking at him with widened eyes, trembling legs, and a stunned soul.

“Because...” he grunts, softly squeezing and kneading my hips, “You like this, don’t you?”

He shifts then, focusing on slowly feeding himself into my depths, effectively earning a low grunt from his throat. A noise that’s quickly overpowered by my own, an open-mouthed moan as I squirm against the mattress, against his lovely torment.

“Peeta...”

“Yeah? You like it? Hmm, love?” 

My eyes flash at his darkened vocals, followed by a bite of my lip to hush the rolling whimper. Something is most definitely in the air tonight. The sun surely exploded in its descent. We’ve never really been so...raw with each other, so driven and demanding.

But it seems neither of us have any qualms. Even my worry towards pressuring Peeta into an unfavorable session seems to back away, what with his ebony murmurs and expressions so evident. We seem to be re-aligning, re-joining each other on the same plane of passion.

Thus, do I desperately nod, at his complete disposal. I slide myself backwards then, easing until I’m practically touching his pelvis, panting and gritting at the extent of penetration.

“I’ve forever to kiss you..." he whispers.

Please...Please please.

I’m hardly with it enough to question the strangeness behind the newfound begging, simply squirming and existing entirely within the desperate space.

“...But not long enough to pleasure you so...”

Thus, miraculously, do any last bits of wall come tumbling down.

And I’m no longer in our bedroom. I’m within droves of ardent fire. I’m traversing the very surface of our sun. I’m in a place so foreign, a state so delightfully insane, where none have ever brought me before.

All from the sudden, strong, and intense reaches of him deep within.

Oh, how I fall apart. How I deliciously unravel. Being so pent up, so oddly starving, the hunger gorges and instantly sets me alight. Just as it screamed before, I too, find myself vocalizing with such strength.

It’s a medley, an absolutely chaotic medley of passion. Beyond my cries and his grunts, I can hear his pelvis slapping against my back side again and again. Beyond the flashes and shivers in my vision, I can see our bed hammering from the force he’s inflicting. Beyond the heat and pounding stream of blood, I can feel him hitting places so new and intense.

And it’s everything. I love him. I adore him. And I cherish the connection we have, the way we can send each other directly into the heavens. I never could have imagined. Even mere months ago, I never could have imagined.

“Gggh...Katniss!”

His deep grunt coupled with the groan of my name is enough to break me from my overwhelmed thoughts; the dig of his fingers into my hips is enough to ground me completely. I cannot escape the ungodly pleasure now. I am present, and at its full mercy.

And when a thrust hits just so, when a piece of my glass cracks and threatens to shatter, it’s no wonder that my arms fall instantly gelatinous. I cry and toss my head back, sending a rolling ebony wave before my front half descends. I desperately grip the blankets, knotting the fabric with begging grunts and whines.

But it only continues to build, and build, and build, impossibly faster and impossibly deeper. Our souls are tangled, so very tangled, dancing and intertwining and refusing to let go. Naturally, I start to ascend, faster than I ever have before. The fire licks its way up my belly, caressing my jiggling breasts and-

...No, that’s his hand, reaching beneath to knead and massage, emboldened and salacious. My eyes roll something terrible, my hips even more so, more and more of the glass chipping away. He’s snarling, almost yelling; I know he’s so close too. But somehow, just as he always has, Peeta dashes through the chaos and holds me above all.

His wandering hand suddenly juts backwards, racing down my body before fingers find their prized destination. There’s a subsequent bolt of electricity at my core, followed by a heave of tension as cracks spiderweb throughout. I’m on the cliff, on the edge, writhing and seeing it shatter before me...

“Peet-”

The final note of his name shifts into that of a divine keen, elongated and reaching as my wings outstretch. I feel like I’ve never flown so high before. It feels as if though I breach the very reaches of our atmosphere, everything whited out and flashing with a dazzling array of color.

Surely I’m screaming. Surely I’m crying out with such forceful contractions wracking my system. But I can barely breathe, barely process. There’s nothing but this. Nothing but him.

Him- somewhere below, I can hear his desperate groans. He too, yelps like he’s attempting to hold on to the Earth, to stop such a rapid ascent into space. But with a distant, cracking yell, and with another push that drives me even higher, I welcome him into my flying embrace.

I hold onto him so tightly. I fly and dance and marvel in the closeness, in the connection we share. I soar hand in hand, his softness rivaling that of the cloud we pass. Before eventually, inevitability, we must return to a realm more frequented.

I land hard. My form essentially evaporates upon impact. The moment Peeta breaks our connection, the moment he releases my hips, I fall into a heap atop the blankets. It’s no surprise that I’m shivering, nor that I’m weeping, overwhelmed to the warmest, highest degree. I remain on my stomach, limbs sprawled every which way, continuing to pant and ride through the occasional aftershocks.

When the sound of my pounding heart departs from my ears, when I become more aware of my surroundings, I can hear Peeta on the bed behind me, heavily panting all the while. Surely he’s sitting back, likely riding the same lingering effects as I. 

But I need him. After almost selfishly delighting in such pleasures, I miss him. So I turn my head against the blankets, attempting to look in his direction as I reach with a hand.

“P-Peeta?”

Unsurprisingly, he understands. In mere seconds, he heaves himself beside me, flopping down atop the mattress. Though I’m utterly exhausted, and akin to jelly, I hoist myself onto my side and into his arms, our bodies as close as possible without the added element of fire.

And there, I snuggle, I caress, I kiss. I make up for the missed touches. He of course, reciprocates, the both of us tiredly offering all the affection we can muster between our shaking breaths. Soon enough, falling back into our usual patterns, we begin to smile. Then breathlessly giggle. Then speak and whisper sweet nothings through our exhausted exchanges.

“Oh...my God...Oh God...” I wheeze into one of our many kisses.

Peeta snickers a bit then, his hands beginning to softly rub circles against my bare back.

“I don’t...I don’t know what happened...what came over me...” I whisper, shying away to nestle my cheek against his.

He laughs more then, somehow managing to tug me even closer.

“Hooo, well...Whatever it was...I’m glad...I’m glad it did...”

I feel myself blushing, somewhat...shocked by the intensity of my actions. And in considering my behavior, in considering how ferocious the hunger was, it unsurprisingly reminds me of the likely sacrifice Peeta had to make in order to appease. I flush even harder, moving to hide my face against his perspiring shoulder.

“I’m sorry...” I murmur against his sweet skin.

“Hun?”

“I didn’t mean to- I mean, I didn’t...”

I of course, struggle through my words, through my explanation. I’ve never been good at saying something. But my love patiently waits, expectantly waits, continuing to softly rub me through the silence. As usual, his understanding anchors me, and I whimper the truth rather sheepishly.

“It just felt so good, Peeta...”

To my relief, he gives a hard, handsome laugh, rattling our tangled forms.

“That’s all I could ever hope for, sweetheart...” he replies with lingering chuckles, pressing his gentle lips to my dampened hair.

I sigh at the tender contact, but continue to push myself.

“Really though...I’m sorry...I didn’t...want to make you uncomfortable...”

“You didn’t.”

When I huff against his shoulder, he softly tugs me backwards, allowing our stares to connect once more.

“You didn’t, love. Clearly.” He chuckles a bit more, before falling back into his earnest tone. “Like I said, it was just...different, that’s all. I marvel in your beauty, you know.” 

When I scowl at him, at the compliment, he grins even wider.

“And yes, I’m used to seeing your face in this. But thankfully, every inch of you happens to be stunning.”

“Peeta...” I groan, feeling my cheeks flush something terrible beneath his onslaught of tender eloquence. Once more, he laughs, before leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

“I just got to address the less...frequented places,” he continues with a smirk, “Which after tonight, won’t stay that way for long, I’m sure.”

I huff, which again, earns another snicker coupled with a kiss. When we break away however, I find myself staring into those sparkling, warm blues. His expression shifts into something more gentle, more awed, surely catching the earnestness behind my stare. My hands reach up to cup his face, stroking my thumbs against his scarred yet softened skin.

“I did miss this, you know...” I whisper, topping my words off with a kiss to his nose.

“Well, I did say we have forever,” he replies with a growing, crooked grin.

“That’s not long enough for this either...”

I pull him into perhaps the softest, tenderest kiss of the night, one more fitting for the day than the dusk. It’s one I pour all my adoration into, of course having to verbally proclaim it all the same.

“I love you so much...” I murmur against his lips.

Once more, the connection breaks from the strength of his smile, delightfully warming body and soul before the sentiments are returned.

“And I love you...”

There we remain for numerous comfortable beats, continuing to lazily kiss and caress until the last of the sunlight disappears from the night sky. I find myself contemplating what lead to such an explosion, what lead to my desire firing off to such an extreme degree. Of course Peeta would be on the same wavelength, though the grinning question that breaks the silence gets me laughing and shoving his chest.

“You don’t...happen to have further tricks up your sleeve, do you?”

[bamf-jaskier]

Who the Fuck is Eskel?

If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy? 

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books. 

Post under the cut

Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves. 

For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show. 

We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:

“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”

“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.

“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”

“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”

Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.

She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped. “Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”

Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.

“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”

She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.

“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.

“Wolf, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”

Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear. 

Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them: 

“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”

Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV. 

Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.

“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”

“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”

This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s. 

“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”

“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”

“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”

“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”

It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.

“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”

Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself: 

Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.

“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”

Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society. 

There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:

“White Seagull.”

“What?”

“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”

“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”

“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”

“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”

“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”

I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.  

Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted. 

In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word. 

Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier. 

Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.

And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events: 

This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.

“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?”

“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”

“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”

“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”

“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”

Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict. 

This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:

The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.

Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.

So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen. 

The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this: 

The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.

“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”

“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.

“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”

“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”

“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”

“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”

“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”

They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.

“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”

Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks. 

So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point. 

Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel. 

[weirdoldmanhoho]

do u have any fic recs?

Sorry it took me years to answer this! The truth was I really hadn't read many FMA fics (at least not since the FF days) and was waiting until I actually had some recs to give.

And now I have some! My list will surprise no one, I'm sure.

Soul Friends by KyberHearts

“They were not always, and simply, two minds in one body. Towards the latter part of their alliance, especially in the heat of battle and warmongering, their souls could not distinguish where the prince began and the sin ended.”

Ling Yao returns to Xing to seal his fate as the next Emperor and sets his plans for reunification and peace in motion.

Elsewhere, Alphonse Elric reconciles with the very Truth that stole his body.

I absolutely love the way this fic writes post-canon Alphonse and his relationship with Truth.

--

Damaged by xmypandabear

'"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'

Love me a good post-promised day healing and processing fic. This one focuses a lot on how Al, Ed, Winry, and Roy are all doing immediately post-promised day and the relationships between all those characters.

--

Joining of Hands by ehmazing

If you're not breaking a couple of laws, is it really an Elric wedding?

Truly, the best thing about an AlMei wedding is all the hijinks and complications the come from foreign customs and marrying into royalty.

--

Legends by Elfpen

Alphonse Elric has been living and studying in Xing for a little more than a year and a half. Now, Ling has asked him - ordered him - to take on a new responsibility and fill the shoes vacated by Van Hohenheim four centuries ago. But what use are legends, really, when they're all frauds? The Son of Heaven and the Son of the Western Sage see it differently.

You ever find a fic that just feels completely catered to you and your interests? I love everything about this fic. Alphonse in Xing and the weird politics he has to maneuver as not only an incredibly skilled foreign alchemist but a close friend of the emperor's - all at a young age. His relationship with Hohenheim and the grief and confusion that comes from never really getting to KNOW Hohenheim and now having to come face to face with the lasting impact his father left on a foreign country. Ling scheming. It's all very, very good.

--

The Principle of Mentalism by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)

There’s a woman with a wrench and a penchant for alcoholism, and what he doesn’t know is that she’s going to change everything.

Another fic that feels like it was written specifically for my interests. This one explores Pinako and Hohenheim's first meeting and how a rowdy mechanic from Resembool and a reserved guilt-written immortal from Xerxes ever became friends in the first place. Features Hohenheim and his one million soul friends and a young awkward Pinako who I want to give SUCH a big hug to. I love it so much.

--

We'll be Holding on Forever by zipadeea

"Hohenheim left them to save the world. But Dad loved them more than everything in the world."

AU where Alphonse gets his body back a little earlier on the Promised Day.

It changes nothing.

It changes everything.

Read this if you want to cry. It focuses on Ed and Hohenheim's relationship and it is full of pain but also healing and understanding. Great quick read.

--

ticket stubs and your diaries by nerdywriiterchild

Alphonse Elric is almost fifteen. He will never know Xerxes.

This one is short but packs a powerful emotional punch and a really interesting character study into only a few paragraphs. Explores the really interesting question: what is it like to mourn a culture you're a part of but will never really know?

--

Briding Her Time in Wait

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris or Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, Winry card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to roll.

Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.

I'm always a sucker for Scar and Mei's relationship.

--

One More Time, With Feeling

In the end the Elric brothers laughed over the irony: The traveller had settled to write books on alchemy while juggling two boisterous children blessed with Rockbell rockheadedness and Elric recklessness, and the settler had taken to travelling between Amestris and Xing for the remainder of his life. It came, really, with having two homes.

-------------------------------------------------------

A bird could love a fish, but where would they live?

This one explores Alphonse's relationship with Mei post-series and is VERY in line with how I picture it. Being in love with a foreign princess in line for the throne with a duty to her people and country would make for a very complicated and often strained relationship.

--

Magic and Mind by Preelikeswriting

Of all things Edward was prepared for as the day of reckoning grew near, being transported from one world on the edge of war to another was not one of them.

AKA: Edward gets accidentally summoned by Death Eaters, and neither party is happy.

(Pre-Promise Day, HP book 5)

Ok so preface: I rarely like crossover fics and I very rarely like HP crossover fics, but this one just works for me. I think what I like so much about it is that Edward doesn't just get thrown into the world of HP and join the golden trio / order and start fighting Voldemort. Oh no. He does not care about their fight at all. He just wants to get back home and will do anything he needs to to achieve that, even if it makes him look like he's working with Death Eaters or going against Harry and friends.

I think the fun of this fic is that it kind of plays around with the fact that the READER knows who the good guys are of each series and would expect them to join forces. Sure, Ed is the Good Guy of FMA and Harry and friends are the Good Guys of HP, but Ed's goals don't really align with Harry's goals and so they're not really working together, and Ed kind of comes off looking shady af to the HP characters despite the fact that the reader knows why he's doing what he's doing. It's a far more interesting take on Ed goes to HP world than "Ed immediately joins the fight against Voldemort."

The series has three works so far and I haven't finished it, but I really loved the first and what I've read of the second. It also eventually heads into Ed/Draco territory which is not a ship I would have initially read but.....kind of works for me here.

[nomstellations]

Tricks and Treats

Your phone chimes as you reach your destination, and you look up from the GPS to the building before you. Spellbound Delights...it was a bakery that had just opened here, advertising pastries and treats imbued with magic. It was run by a supposed "cake witch," and you were curious about that. You've never heard of that kind of witch, did they just...conjure cakes? Were conjured cakes just as real as authentically baked ones? Curious and craving sweets, you came to find an answer. Today was its grand opening, and you came early to be the first to check it out. There wasn't anyone else here but you thankfully, and you stepped inside the bakery.

You were immediately greeted by the sweet smell of pastries and tarts, the display case was full of freshly made treats and there was even a platter set out of things to try. Some of them glittered, others constantly shifted their colors...these must be the magical ones, wonder what they do? There didn't seem to be anyone behind the counter, but you could hear someone's singing coming from the back of the bakery. However lovely their voice was you wanted a snack, so you called out to them. The singing stops, and the sound of heels clicking against the floor rapidly approaches you. A surprisingly tall woman now stands before you, her smile bright.

"Well hi there, sugar! I wasn't expecting to get a customer so early! Couldn't resist the allure of my treats, hmm~?" You take in her features rather than replying, as the first thing you noticed that her hair was made of frosting. Thick white curls fell to the side of her face and down her back, smelling of sweet cream cheese. She was wearing a frilly apron over an equally frilly red dress that went down to her knees, and she sported a red hat with white highlights and a large dollop of frosting on it. She really seemed to take the cake theme seriously, but it seemed like every part of her was made of the stuff. Noting how you stared, she gave you a patient smile and leaned against the counter. "Heehee, curious? My name's Chiffon, and I'm the only cake witch of my kind! I pioneered the field, in fact! Studying the magic permanently changed my body into cake...so why not open a bakery? I want my hard work to change lives for the better~" Her whole body was cake? Now that changed a few things. You tell her that you were interested in some of her goods made with magic, and you want to know what some of them are and what they do. Lighting up like a christmas tree, the witch sits up straight with a smile. "Of course! See, these turnovers here can grant you good luck for the whole day, and those blueberry scones can give you a confidence boost….these here are just regular apple fritters, but they're absolutely delectable!" As Chiffon rambles on about cakes that can cure curses and pies that can grant flight, you eye her with a hungry stare. You occasionally had some more…predatory inclinations, and while you had come here for a sweet snack there was something far sweeter and more filling right in front of you. The biggest cake of all was right here, why not enjoy it? You just need to take the chance….

Interrupting her ramble, you tell Chiffon that you're looking to...taste some of her goods before buying any. She gestures proudly to a tray of snacks she set out, presumably for customers to try. "Sure thing, honeybun~ Might I recommend the petit fours? They're small, but flavorful!" You had no intention of actually buying anything now that you had your eyes on the prize, but you might as well play along and make your move while she was distracted. You pick up one of the little cakes, admiring the cute star candy it was decorated with before taking a bite. It tasted sweet and had strawberry frosting inside, and you hummed in delight at its flavor. At the very least it tasted great, and a warmth started to flow through you. Maybe this cake was magic? It probably did something cute, like make it so you'd be happy all day...you would be when you got a taste of Chiffon, that's for sure. However…. When did the bakery get a bit bigger? Or rather, when did you get a bit smaller? Chiffon's heels clicking against the floor got your attention, and you looked to see her towering over you. She has a small but somewhat smug grin, and she leans down to your level.

"Maybe you should've asked more about those, sweetie~ The "petit" part is rather literal! You didn't get as small as I thought, though...guess you have a bit of magic resistance in you! Oh well, you're even cuter like this...like a little teddy bear!" You're very confused, but before you can ask her hands wrap around your waist and lift you up much like a cat. She brings you up to her face, her smile growing wider. Your befuddled expression earns a chuckle out of her, and her grip gets a bit tighter. "I saw the looks you were giving me...it wasn't the snacks in the case you wanted, was it? Sorry sugar, but I'm never on the menu~" You pale a bit, she knew? You were in trouble now. "You know...you look cute enough to eat right now~ Guess you're learning the hard way that this snack bites back, huh?" She lifts you up above her head, and you start wriggling around as you realize her plans. "Come now, you'll be just fine! I only hope that you won't be too rattled after this...I'd like it if you came by again sometime, hehe~" Come back? She was going to eat you! You wriggle but she waves her free hand, and you find your movements slowing down and becoming sluggish. "Settle down, you'll be just fine~ Haven't you always wanted to lay on some soft cake? Well, you'll be laying in it soon!" Without wasting any more time she opens her mouth, lowering you inside. Her tongue comes up and grazes your legs and you shudder a bit, regretting wearing shorts out today. You were far too big for her to eat in one go, so she opted to take her time as she steadily lowered you in farther. A deep slow gulp marks the start of your descent, and you find that even if you had the strength to wiggle you couldn’t. The cakey muscles of her throat were tight, and her saliva seemed to be...sticky? Was it some kind of glaze? Whatever it was it clung to you, and you slowly sunk into her mouth with each swallow. Chiffon hummed and you could feel the vibrations around you, supposedly she liked the way you tasted. You were pulled into her throat without much incident, now slowly sliding down towards her stomach. Interestingly enough you could hear the sounds of her body working, seems like everything still worked even after being turned into living food. While her biology did interest you, you didn’t want a look this close! Peristalsis seemed to be doing its job rather well despite your sticky situation, and after a few moments it pushed you into a somewhat more spacious chamber. The walls were slick much like a real stomach’s, but they were so much more softer. You landed in a pool of glaze, similar to the kind you’d put on donuts. Was this her equivalent of stomach acids…? It felt warm in here, like a freshly baked cake, and the walls closed in with a delighted growl to rub against you and check you out. The witch herself sighed happily from above, giving the bump you made in her middle a gentle rub. The way her dress puffed out should cover you nicely, though you filled her up pretty well...she’ll manage with a bit of extra weight, today was the grand opening of her bakery after all! “So~ How do you like feeling that that cake felt? You’d have to try a lot harder than that to get your hands on me, cutie~” She chuckled, and you found your face flushing a bit in embarrassment. “Not to worry, though….you’ll be safe. I’ll just have to hold onto you for a while for trying to ruin my opening day! I promise to get you cleaned up when you’re out, I’m not cruel. Enjoy your ride!” She started to move, and your world rocked gently back and forth. It smelled really sweet in here, and the warmth was honestly nice...she wasn’t being malicious, so you didn’t feel as tense as you used to. Maybe you could just mellow out and relax in here, with the consistent movement of her stomach allowing you to relax. You wondered however, if there was any kind of magic that could safely get all this glaze out of your hair and clothes...