#plus i’m just. you know. unpracticed.

[deep-peach]

translating still feels like such a super power to me 🥺 everytime i realize i’ve understood a brand new sentence in this novel and then found a pleasing way to present it in english too i just feel a little thrill

i just think of me, age 15, looking at my friends gothic lolita bible and thinking how much i wished i could read it, and how back then knowing japanese felt as rare as having a super power, and just as beneficial to the community. i hope i can make so many more stories available to people.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Take A Fucking Hint

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Steve is incredibly oblivious to the big hints that his girlfriend drops whenever they kiss and it takes his best friends knocking some sense into him for him to get it.

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, Steve is a naive baby, lots of kissing

WC: 1.5k

Minors DNI

Steve Rogers had his first kiss in 1931. It had been his 13th birthday and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name. But when the fireworks went off, she shyly asked him if he would like a kiss in lieu of a birthday gift. Her lips were chapped and tasted like the cotton candy she had just eaten, it was barely even a peck but Steve thought it was magical.

The next time Steve kissed someone was right above Howard Stark’s lab with an officer who yanked him into a corner, eager to have her way with him. The kiss was tinged with a lust he couldn’t comprehend. He didn’t hate it but he also didn’t like it, it felt wrong to him. A kiss should be an expression of love, he thought, not some desire for someone based only on their body.

Peggy Carter kissed him next. It was in the middle of a battle as they chased down a plane loaded with bombs. It was fuelled with adrenaline and desperation, like they knew they would never see each other again. 

Natasha Romanoff was his next kiss. She teased him relentlessly about it. It was sloppy and unpracticed and very weird considering he thought of the former assassin as a sister. Then, it was Peggy’s great niece Sharon.

But nothing compared to the way you kissed him. You kissed Steve like it was the only thing keeping you alive. You hadn’t been together long, just two months but it was more than enough time for him to fall utterly in love with you. You taught him how to love, how to ask for affection and attention.

But mainly, you taught him how to kiss. Quick pecks when you woke up, both of you still half asleep and with morning breath. Affectionate, have a good day kisses when you left for work. ‘I’m glad you’re alive’ kisses when he returned from missions. And finally, his favourite ones; the ‘I need to feel your body against mine right now’, when your tongues tangled, your breath mingled together as you tried to swallow each other whole, but those always ended as quickly as they started.

You were at the compound with him today, Tony needed your help with engineering a new AI system for the jet. “I don’t know when we’ll finish up tonight so how about you come steal me away for lunch today?” Your hands tugged on the labels of his leather jacket, pulling his body closer to your own. Steve smiled wildly as he looked down at you, so utterly enamoured by your presence.

“Now that is the best idea I’ve heard today.” His hands hovered over your wide hips, not yet touching you. He still struggled with PDA, especially when he was so conflicted as to whether he deserved your touch and wanted to throw you down and have his way with you constantly. Your arms moved up his strong chest to wrap around his neck.

Your eyes were hooded, heavy with desire that sent a shiver through him. “Well then Cap, how about you reward me for having such a good idea.” His lips met your with a practiced ease, a warm feeling filling his gut. Your lips felt like coming home, like a safe place where he could just be. He tilted his head, eager to deepen the kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, your grip on him tightening as the air ignited with a white hot passion. “Hey suckerfish! Break it up! I need my assistant to actually be able to breathe without a geriatric man sucking on her face.” Steve groaned as you pulled away to glare at the billionaire. Tony stood several feet away with his arms crossed over his chest like a disappointed father.

“First off Stark, I am not your assistant. Second, I will kiss my insanely hot boyfriend whenever I want as is my right.” Steve chuckled, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before stepping back and giving you a gentle shove towards the lab doors.

You looked at him clearly offended. “I’ll find you for lunch. Try not to kill Tony.” 

“I’ll kill him if I wanna kill him.” You muttered but walked away anyway, the cutest frown on your face. He chuckled and turned as the doors slid closed behind you, and came face to face with a smug looking Bucky and a disgusted Sam.

“You two are nasty. Why don’t you just fuck at home before work like normal people.” Steve’s face went beat red at Sam’s comment. Bucky guffawed, shoving him with his shoulder.

“Don’t you know they haven’t done the deed yet. Apparently, they’re ‘taking it slow’. Which is just code for Steve has a girlfriend way out of his league and he doesn’t know how to handle it.” 

“Hey!” He objected. “That is our business, not yours. Besides, how do you know we haven’t.” Bucky rolled his eyes at his best friend’s childish retort.

He clapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder. “Oh you poor dumb man, it is incredibly obvious.” Sam joined him on his other side, taking his other shoulder.

“We have so much to teach you.” They guided him away from the lab, intending on educating their lost friend. 

——————

Steve felt like he was in sex ed again, except this was so much worse. They were in one of the many conference rooms on the compound, a white board had been dragged in from a storage room and was now covered in crude drawings that were borderline lewd.

“Now that we have the basics down, you need to understand the nuances of women’s hints.” Sam started but Steve sighed, resting his head in his hands.

“She would have told me if she wanted to have… sex. And she hasn’t so I haven’t gone any further than kissing.” Both men groaned in aggravation. They had been at this for an hour now, trying to get it into Steve’s head that you just wanted to get laid but he wasn’t listening.

“All right, look. What does she do every time you kiss?” The office chair creaked as Steve leaned back in it. His hand scrubbed down his jaw, running over the smooth skin.

“She always pulls me closer to her like she doesn’t want me running away and then puts her arms around my neck.” Bucky nodded thoughtfully, a slightly proud glint in his grey eyes.

“Just as I thought.” Sam muttered, taking a seat right in front of the Captain. “When a woman or whoever does that with the person they are kissing, it’s a signal for the other person to touch them.” Steve’s head tilted questioningly.

“But I do touch her.” 

“Yes but how?” Bucky picked up where Sam left off. “Just her hips?” Steve gave a curt nod. “Ok, next time she kisses you, hold her by the small of her back, or even better, one hand at the base of her neck and the other on her ass. Just trust me.” He patted Steve’s back and walked out of the room like he had just told him the meaning of like.

Sam scoffed but followed him out, yelling down the hall about how much of a drama queen he was being. Bucky retorted but Steve was too lost in his thoughts to consciously hear what they were saying to each other. Maybe he should try it.

——————

As usual with your ‘lunch breaks’ with Steve, he had dragged you into an empty office to make out for a while before you both had to get back to work. And as usual, your arms were around his neck, fingers buried in his short blonde hair as he lightly gripped your hips.

You could live in Steve’s lips. They were always so soft, like he was constantly using chapstick. He tasted like coffee and jam pastries. You let him guide your chin upwards so he could kiss along your soft jaw. But then, he did something new.

His hands moved slowly to the base of your spine, his warm touch making goosebumps erupt all over your body. You moaned quietly into the still air of the office, the sound barely covered by the hum of the air conditioner. 

Apparently the noises you were making gave him an ego boost because suddenly he was holding the back of your neck tightly, keeping your head still as he took what he wanted from you. “Steve!” You gasped and felt him smirk against the skin of your throat. His other hand was placed firmly on your plump ass, something he never dared to try.

Your body thrummed with an arousal you had never felt before. This was an entirely new Steve and you were loving it. “What’s gotten into you, Stevie?” You asked breathlessly. His head lifted from where he had been nibbling on your collarbone, his blue eyes black with desire.

“I learned how to take a hint.” Safe to say that lunch went well into the night.

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[mythica0]

Well hello! I hope u have fun writing fics!

I was wondering if u could write a lee Antonio and ler Dolores and Isabela

(Scenario is Antonio wouldn’t stop about teasing Dolores and Mariano’s relationship and so Dolores and her prima isabela team up and tickle Antonio to tears making sure to tease him all the way through it <3)

Again if u don’t wanna do it it’s totally alr :)

Of course I wanna do it! Cannot thank you enough your a writers block life saver! But sorry if the teases are bad, I’m a massive lee and don’t have a ler bone in my body so it makes it difficult sometimes 😅

How the tables turn!

🎂: Encanto

🧁: Antonio

🍫: Dolorés, Isabella

Summary : Antonio is teasing his older sister and cousin, they find a way to get him back in a friendly way.

A/N: thanks again for the ask! Sorry this took a little bit, I got school.

How the tables turn!

It was no secret that Antonio was a sweet heart with a heart of gold.

He was always trying to help out his familia where he could . He was generally nice and never had any bad intentions.

However; there was something that was a bit of a secret.

Antonio had a veeeeery teasy side, which was being exemplified in Isabella’s room in the casita.

Dolorés had decided to hang out in there. She liked being around Isa, they had pretty much grown up together.

…plus it was pretty quiet.

Antonio heard about this and decided to go hang out with them!

But then ….

“So…. Isa, do you ever get allergies in here? Seems kind of unpractical.”

Isa just rolls her eyes before replying “I’m not allergic to pollen, primo.”

“When was the last time you checked?” (A/N: you can credit my little bro for that idea🙄)

“Where’d this come from, hermanito?” Dolorés came from the other end of the little line the three had formed.

Dolorés was on the left, Isa on the right, Antonio in the middle.

“What ever do you mean, hermana mayor?” (Mayor means ‘older’, FYI) He said with an all so innocent expression

“You know exactly what I’m talking about . Don’t play dumb. “ she said with an accusatory poke to the stomach.

Antonio squeaked. The other room occupants smirked.

Without any warning or communication other than a quick glance, they both trapped him in a tight hug.

He gulped and thought ‘welp, this is how I die’ dramatic, right?

“So, you ticklish, primo? “

Blush started slowly forming on his face

“I think that’s a yes, prima “

“Yup! Let’s get him.”

They started to lightly trace across Antonio’s sides . It may have been light but HOLY MIRACLE did that tickle! Isabella’s nails were SO BAD . Combine that with Dolorés’ soft method, and Antonio was already giggling like a maniac.

“What’s wrong, hermano? We’re barely touching you!”

“Yeah, is something funny? Is there something in my hair?”

She started to examine her hair with her unoccupied hand, pretending to look through it.

“Noho… nothihings fuHUHUNY!” His volume raised at the end from a slight squeeze.

“Then why are you laughing? Hmm?”

“Becahahahuse youhohour tihihihickling mehehehee!”

“Oh, we are? I didn’t notice , what about you, Isa?”

“No clue. Well, it’s not like he’s complaining. “

“Ihihi lihihiteheheralhyhyhy juhuhust cohomplahahained!”

They picked it up, caused Antonio’s giggle ls to turn into much louder laughter.

“You are not in the position to say those things!”

“Yeah! We’re doing all the teasing here, mr. Giggles !”

“GUHUHUYS! STHOHOHOP IHIHIT! “

“We can’t, we are the tickle monsters and we’re hungry for your giggles! OM NOM NOM” Isa said as she started to nibble on her primo’s stomach.

“EEK!” Came the replying shriek.

Dolorés soon joined in, raspberrying all over Tonito.

“You are a very tasty snack, but your also very noisy!” Dolorés pointed out, slightly wincing at the pain in her ears, but able to bear it.

Antonio was laughing so hard the corners of his eyes leaked with tears. The girls took this as their sign to stop,and rubbed away all the ghost tickles.

“Ehehhee, Thahat wahas brhuhutal.”

“Maybe that will teach you who the champions of teasing are in this casita! “

The casita raised a shingle as if to cock and eyebrow.

“Oh, shush , you. “ Dolorés responded.

And all three laughed once more

—————————THE END —————————

[namis-daydream]

The group of girls gasp as if you’re the one who interrupted their date with Kuroo and he rolls his eyes at their dramatics since this is how they always act.

“My lovely date here is right, any money I make from doing a job is mine to spend and I can do what I please with it. Plus none of you even tip me good anyways but you sure know how to run me around the bar like I’m your damn servant.”

One girl, you assume the ‘leader’ of the group, stands up from your chair so fast she wobbles a bit on her unpractically high heels and leans over towards Kuroo who makes a face at the smell of alcohol on her breath.

“Fine, if we’re such a bother and don’t give you enough money then we’ll find a new bar to go to. Maybe Daishou will be more welcoming over at Nohebi.”

“Oh please don’t leave me, I’ll be so heartbroken.”

Kuroo replies with a roll of his eyes and pushes your tray of food back towards you before digging into his own food, thankful it sat for a bit since he doesn’t have to worry about burning his mouth again.

Silently, I watch as the girls hurriedly make their way out, any desire to order food thrown out the window as they exit just as loud as they entered.

When I can no longer see them, I turn back to face the window, a heavy weight on my shoulder as i think if i’ll look like them in a month’s time when Kuroo gets bored of me.

“Hey,” kuroo mumbles after some time of me not eating and just alternating between forking it around and looking away from him. “You okay? Haven’t touched your food. Can’t still be that hot.”

I can only offer a grimace for a smile back at him, his dorky behavior that used to make me giggle not ten minutes ago makes me sick now.

“Yeah, m’fine— n-not hungry anymore, just wanna.. go home,”

[postmodernbeing]

Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU - Outfits pt I)

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. I decided to continue writing about this College AU , only this time, I'm making some outfits HCs, since I'm working in a oneshot and this visuals could be helpful. Also, it seemed like a lot of fun so I've decided to give it a try. Hope y'all like this. Much love.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Contains spoilers (for the icons that I used in some characters) // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Eren Yeager

Chains and rings of stainless-steel. Combat boots matching faux-leather jackets with studs and pins from bands.

Has a few flannel shirts (that he stole from Zeke, his brother doesn't mind, tho). But for the most part, Eren's shirts are from merch of bands with a few (handmade) changes.

Eren likes to sew badly on purpose some patterns or figures by following quick tutorials. All his clothes are modified or drawn over.

While his main looks are metal head alike, he also wears snickers, hoodies, sporty pants, and jackets to class. Pretty laid back, he looks as he just woke up from a nap all the time tbh.

Sometimes goes skating but he’s not that good, his skateboard is more of a fashion statement really.

Has both ears pierced around (lobe type) and tattoos on both arms.

It’s pretty obvious to this point, but I’ll say it anyways: Eren wears black religiously. Definitely he’s open to darker shades of any color, but must wear something black at least.

Mikasa Ackerman

Our girl wears black clothes mostly. She doesn’t have a preference between skirts/dresses or pants, but you’ll rarely see her wearing jeans.

Many skirts and ripped tights to match with platform boots or classic converse. Also owns a large wardrobe with different hoodie and shirt sizes and designs yet mostly in dark shades.

Lots of necklaces and rings with perforations to match, none in her face yet lots in her ears. Mikasa has only one tattoo: Azumabito’s clan logo.

Speaking about Azumabito’s, whenever she’s working with them, she wears faux leather jackets at most, and her classic red turtleneck. Nothing too exaggerated nor formal.

A total goth since middle school, and even though in college finds it a bit unpractical, she tries to keep it as loyal to her style as possible.

Books and notebooks are part of her attires. She’d be writing or reading at any time that’s possible. Not always about her classes, tho. She also likes novels and arts. An artsy goth, perhaps?

Armin Arlert

Sky blue is his color. Matching it with classy pants and blazers in clear colors.

His wardrobe looks like one that belongs to an aristocrats’ son. Some light-academia realness.

He can pull off some casual looks with sneakers but it’s more common for him to wear his oxfords, cap toes or moccasins to class, or anywhere really.

Cardigans, vests and blazers are his best friends as soon as autumn arrives. Always in colors such as beige, green, brown, and grey.

Armin is easily the best dressed from all his group of friends, and I’m not even open to discuss this. Let’s just remember his canon outfits throughout the four seasons. Even in a Modern AU he’ll keep being the king he is.

Not a big fan of accessories though. Except for his handkerchiefs that match his blazers. Since his grandfather used to choose his clothes, he taught Armin that a handkerchief was a gentleman’s must carry. Now he wears them only to pay his grandpa honor, as a lesson more so.

Jean Kirstein

King of brown jackets and turtlenecks. Really, his wardrobe is in such color harmony. It’s impressive.

Little to no accessories besides an occasional scarf or a single ring matching some bracelet.

Although he’s used to wear a consistent type of clothes and even colors, he wouldn’t dare to define a style for himself, is it boho? art hoe? dark academia? Maybe we’ll never know.

Zero perforations only because he’s scared of pain, but Jean is really drawn into them, so he uses fake ones for his ears sometimes. Has only one little hidden tattoo, made when he started college and lost a bet against Sasha and Connie.

Jean’s always stylish, clean, and smelling like cologne. He also has an extensive routine for shaving, combing his hair and trimming his beard.

Second best dressed of all his friends. Lowkey loves fashion but keeps it for himself (and Marco). Plus, in her mother’s house he keeps more clothes than his dorm' wardrobe can storage.

Marco Bodt

Colorful, youthful, and casual, that’s his style. Marco’s clothes reflect his joyful personality and every time he enters a room, he brightens the mood so easily.

A lot of denim and if he’s not wearing bright colors, you can be sure he’s caring something white with him (a bandana, a baseball cap, a scarf or his sneakers).

Shares with Jean a special appreciation for clothing, except Marco prefers more laidback and casual outfits.

Has no tattoos but recently got both ears pierced. He decided to since he really likes the earrings that k-pop idols wear.

If spring was a wardrobe, Marco would have it. I can’t stress this enough. Just so pretty and genuine.

Also, he definitely uses accessories (small jelly or colorful rings, bracelets of all kinds and simple necklaces) but there's more, he uses objects that are not meant to as accessories too. Such as band aids and small stickers around his face, skates in his backpack and flowers in his pockets.

Sasha Blouse

Unironically messy style. No matching patterns nor colors, different textures and sizes that made little to no coordination in her outfits. Unaesthetic is her aesthetic.

She likes baggy jackets and jeans with big pockets for snacks obviously, midi-skirts and graphic tees. Sasha is the definition of zero fucks given and still looking cute.

Of course, she knows how to pull off some cool outfits, it’s just that she doesn’t care that much unless is specifically required.

Not a big fan of accessories besides belts (maybe) and her backpack. Unless we’re talking about bucket hats that became a must wear thanks to Connie.

“Borrows” Nicolo’s hoodies/shirts that wears with her favorite threads. Then plays dumb when her bf asks her about his clothes. They both secretly love that dynamic.

Sasha plays it safe when it's about her hairstyle, also not a big fan of makeup -at least not the way Mikasa or Historia do-, but she’s open to try new things if her best friends dare her to.

Connie Springer

King of striped shirts and golden chains. His style is mainly urban and youthful. Conniegod remains unmatched in his awesomeness even in a Modern AU, if you ask me.

Owns a collection of sneakers that wears with his numerous printed socks. So creative and colorful.

Also, Connie has a small collection of unique shaped tinted glasses, also bucket hats and simple stainless steel chains.

Has small fun tattoos around his legs and arms, ears pieced but nothing too grunge. Speaking of which, he matches religiously his earrings with his chains that hang of his belt.

Usually wears dress pants or cargo pants. Anything but denim or really skinny fitted pants. Coincidentally, most of his shirts are loose too.

Definitely brings his skateboard with him all the time so it’s part of the outfit, really (Eren tried to copy that from Connie, let’s be honest). He’s so good at skating, and when he doesn’t feel like walking around campus, skating is always a good idea.

Part II here

[klbwriting]

Pirate’s Heart - Chapter 11

Ruin My Life

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: hearts are found and a new problem arises

Notes: so now you can see why I gave these two a catch phrase, just so a pop song worked out for me

Taglist:  @sixofshadowandbone​​ @thedelusionreaderbitch​​ @itsemy01​​ @angelicdanvers​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @screen-to-stage​​ @aysegust​​ @sagewrites111​​ @lilyoflower​​ @madeofsilkandsteel​​​ @starjane312​​​ @spawn0fsatan​​​ @myalupinblack​​​ @ameliathackray​​​ @moondustmarauder​​​ @lizcookie1

I want you to ruin my life You to ruin my life, you to ruin my life, yeah I want you to fuck up my nights, yeah Fuck up my nights, yeah, all of my nights, yeah I want you to bring it all on If you make it all wrong, then I'll make it all right

When Kaz woke up he panicked for moment.  The room around him was not his.  It was messier than he would ever keep his quarters, papers strewn about, hand drawn pictures on the walls.  He was in a bed larger than his own, dark sheets and a heavy blanket over him.  He sat up quick and realized that this must be Y/N's cabin.  He stood slowly, feeling like someone had beat him with a pipe.  His mind was foggy but he vaguely remembered holding Y/N close and falling out a window into the sea.  Rollins's office, Nina betrayed him, he betrayed Y/N, she had still saved him.  He groaned as he stood, grabbing for his cane, his leg on fire.  He was about to head up above deck when the door opened and Y/N came in.  

"O, you're awake, good this won't get cold then," she said.  Her voice triggered another memory from the previous night.  I love you Kaz she had said.  She loved him.  Was it enough for her to get her heart back?  Was his love enough for that?  He swallowed hard and looked at what she was carrying, breakfast, eggs, a biscuit with some kind of gravy, bacon.  Where did this all come from? "Where did you get all this?" he asked.  She set the tray on her desk and motioned for him to sit.  He did gingerly and started to eat, his stomach feeling empty entirely.  

"I keep some extras on the ship, some luxuries in case we get new girls.  Usually they'd only been fed gruel or broth, a good meal makes them feel welcome," she explained, sitting on her bed.  She sat quietly by as he ate, just watching him.  She was so relieved that the fall didn't seriously hurt him.  After she woke she had had her medic come in and do a quick exam, nothing invasive, just enough to make sure he wasn't bleeding internally.  She also had made sure to send a small crew out to find his ship.  She was still waiting on word from them.  "How much does it hurt?"

"I'm pretty sure hitting the cobbles from that height feels better than this," he said, pushing the empty plate away.  "You saved my life last night."

"Well, my girl got you into that mess, I wasn't going to leave you all there" she said.  She looked at him behind her desk and shook her head.  He looked amazing.  She didn't care if he restored he heart or not, he was her love and that's all she cared about.

"So you said you loved me last night," he said, standing up and moving to sit beside her.  She nodded.

"I did," she answered.  They weren't looking at each other but she felt his hand sliding over hers gently.  

" Y/N, I don't know if what I feel is enough..." he said.  She held up her hand.  

"I don't care Kaz, I love you.  “I don't know if my heart will choose you to be my true love but my soul does.  I choose you, my mind, my soul, my very being chooses you.  Fuck my heart, who cares?  I want you to ruin my life, I want you to fuck up every night for the rest of my life," she said, finally looking at him.  As soon as she faced him he gripped her face and kissed her softly.  His lips were unpracticed but warm and so inviting.  After a few moments she felt a pain in her chest.  She doubled over, pulling back from Kaz and gripping her chest as she fell to the floor.  She groaned as she felt something beat, felt a pulse, felt absolutely everything.  

" Y/N?" Kaz asked, reaching out and touching her back.  She grabbed onto his hand and pressed it to her chest.  He stared, feeling her heartbeat against his hand.  She took a deep breathe, sitting back against the bed, looking at him.  "Well that is a declaration of love if I ever saw one."

"I knew it was you, knew that first time I saw you when you finally grew up.  I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize that I got to choose  my true love," she said.  Kaz just pulled her back to him for a  moment, kissing her head.  

"We can't stay here can we?" he asked.  She shook her head.  

"I sent a message out about the Crow, I'm trying to find it.  If Rollins really has a new fighter we're going to need to sink that think quick before it can sink us," she said.  "Plus, everyone thinks you might be dead."

"Out there..."

"Out there we can be whatever you want."

"I want to be careful.  Rollins seems to think we are just professionally linked still, we should keep it that way.  He thinks we're just working together to find the sea witch..."

"Which he knows we found?"

"I'm sorry," he said.  She looked at him and touched his still bruised face gently.  "But yes, he knows we have the gem, he said if he finds us he will send his entire naval force."  She nodded.  

"I may need to do something drastic then, we can't handle all of the ships in the navy with just our vessels and this gem on me," she said.  Kaz frowned.

"What else could you do?" he asked.

"Fuse the gem to my body, completely take its power," she said.  "Its what the sea witches did to restore the reef."  Kaz looked at her.  No, that could not possibly be what she was thinking.

"They were destroyed," he said.  She nodded.

"I know, but I won't let anything happen to you or my crew, I will protect you all with my life if I have to," she said.  "I need you on my side about this."  Kaz turned his eyes to the ground before turning to look at her.  

"Please, lets just try with our ships first," he said.  He couldn't imagine letting her do this without trying something else first.  He had already lost his parents, his brother, his childhood, what else would have to sacrifice to the sea before it had its fill?  

"We can try, but we have to find your ship first," she said.  She stood slowly, offering her hand to him.  He took it and stood.  "We have to get out there."  

"Before we go," he said softly, turning her face him, lips finding hers.  He nodded then for her to lead.  

On deck the rest of the crew waited, all of them cheering when Kaz emerged.  He almost smiled but waved them down, trying to look annoyed.  He was glad his people were safe, he could only hope the rest of the crew was safe too, wherever they were.   Y/N leaned on the side of the ship, still rubbing her chest.  Kaz realized a second too late, not able to push her hand away before Nina noticed.

" Y/N...something bothering you?" she asked.   Y/N removed her hand and blushed a little.  "O my God, it was Kaz!"  Kaz gave one loud bang from his cane on the floor and sent Nina a withering look to shut her up.  Nina closed her mouth, looking scared.  She should be, Kaz was still livid with her, if she wasn't so important to Y/N he would've killed her.  

"Is the messenger back yet?" Y/N asked, moving in front of Kaz to block him from even looking at Nina.  The others shook their heads.  "We are going to try to take out this new fighter Rollins says he has using both the Crow and the Menagerie.  It will be hard but we need to do something, Rollins has finally had it with us and has made us enemy number one to the navy."  She would leave out the part about fusing the gem to her body.  That was something private between her and Kaz for now, she wouldn't worry the others about it.  A young woman hurried over to the group, handing Y/N a piece of parchment.  She took it and frowned, reading it over twice to make sure she was seeing this correctly.  

"Where's the Crow?" Kaz asked.  

"They've abandoned it near Pirate Island," she said.  "This is clearly a trap...that new fighter is going to be there.  How much tonic do we still have?"

  "3," Inej answered.   Y/N nodded.  

"We'll need to go under them," she said.  She looked at Kaz.  "I'll need you to lead these girls as a distraction until we can take the ship and free the crew and join the fight."  

"Of course, I will keep Nina and Inej with me, you take my crew, they will be helpful against the military assholes," he said.  She agreed.  

"Raise the sails, its time to spring this trap."

[rugbypolycule]

take your hand in mine

pairing: itadori yuuji x fushigoro megumi

characters: itadori yuuji, fushigoro megumi, kugisaki nobara, fushiguro tsumiki (mentioned),  fushiguro toji (mentioned), gojo satoru (mentioned)

rating: general audiences, no warnings apply

words: 1968

summary: yuuji is half-decent at painting his nails for a beginner. megumi is absolutely smitten and gets pulled along for the ride. they're both in love and clueless.

or: an intimacy fic where yuuji paints megumi's nails. because those boys deserve some quiet time.

ao3 link

Itadori Yuuji isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily. He rarely pays attention to the opinions of others, and not for a lack of caring. He has such a strong sense of self, such an unwavering faith in his own mind that criticism often flies right over his head. On anyone else, the trait would far too-closely resemble arrogance – even self-centeredness. The pink-haired boy, however, is too gentle, too empathetic and kind. His steady confidence shines in a bright halo that threatens to overwhelm even those with the strongest defenses.

In simpler, more candid terms, Fushigoro Megumi feels like he can’t breathe when Yuuji smiles. If he were more honest with himself, he’d recognise that his feelings of breathlessness aren’t reserved for Yuuji’s full-watt smile. The truth is that around Yuuji, Megumi’s lungs work overtime. He is almost constantly filled with this restless sort of energy, the urge to act. It makes his fingers itch and his pulse lurch to his throat.

It’s a cool day. It had been overcast for a while, the clouds heavy with an oncoming storm so strong it could almost be tasted. Yuuji loves days like these. The feeling of his hair standing on end, the thickness of the air around him, the velvety grey of the sky. It is the sort of day that makes you want to stay inside with lights dimmed and quiet music playing.

Yuuji finds himself in this exact position, scrolling through Pinterest on his laptop. Ever since meeting Megumi and Nobara, he had discovered a newfound love for fashion. He loved bright colours and stark geometric patterns and shiny skin and lips. It felt fresh and energising. He loved the attention to detail that went into putting together a full outfit – the studded belts, sheer scarves, painted nails.

Yuuji loved the look of nail polish. He could wear his dark uniform and still bring colour into his life, and for cheap. Plus, going shopping with Nobara was always a fun experience. She had picked out a bright purple shade for Yuuji, but he had his eyes on a bottle bursting with golden yellow. He bought them both at her loud insistence. They ate sushi that day. It was nice.

Now Yuuji sits on his bed, yellow bottle in slightly trembling hand. His nervous anticipation doesn’t come from fear that people would think he looked weird or strange; he is more worried about messing up the application and look messy, about which Nobara often complained. The concern quickly dissipates, though, making way for Yuuji’s quiet excitement as he opens the bottle.

The breaking of the seal causes a wave of fumes to fill his room. Yuuji’s nose tickles. He sneezes a few times, coming dangerously close to spilling the yellow paint everywhere. Thankfully, his reflexes are stronger than his body’s averse reaction. He slowly lifts the brush out of the bottle, taking care to wipe off the excess varnish just as Nobara had told him. With a slightly steadier hand, he begins painting his left index finger. He moves on to the next, then the next, then his right hand (which is considerably more difficult and why didn’t Nobara say anything about that?) Though he was unpracticed, he didn’t make a huge mess like he thought he would. Save for a few yellow-tinged cuticles, he had done a pretty decent job.

For a while, Yuuji just sits back and admires his work. Nobara had told him to wait no less than 15 minutes before even thinking about using his hands. Yuuji lasts 5 minutes before looking for a cooking video to pass the time. Nothing was smudged, and Yuuji quite happily sits through more than a few videos before the smell of the nail polish becomes too much for him. It had been plenty of time now, so he doesn’t worry about messing up his nails as he opens the door to his room.

He stops short as he finds Megumi on the other side of it.

If anyone asked, Megumi was just walking past Yuuji’s room for no reason. In fact, he was only going to get water, and had to pass by Yuuji’s room in order to get to the common area. The reason he stopped at his classmate’s door at all was simply to ponder the possibility of getting a snack. There was no other motive behind it.

Sadly, all his excuses do nothing to hide his deer-in-headlights expression. Before he can open his mouth in order to deny being there on purpose, a hand is thrust towards his face. Megumi flinches back in a sort of surprised confusion before realising that Yuuji has yellow fingernails.

“Do you like them?” asks Yuuji, grinning at Megumi like an expectant puppy.

Oh. There’s that hummingbird thrum in his bones again. The rapid movement of blood that makes his head light and his breath shallow. Yuuji is beautiful.

“Yeah,” Megumi tries to answer. It’s at times like these, when he’s lost for words and doesn’t know how to move his face to seem genuine, that he really appreciates Yuuji’s personality. Almost anyone else would have thought Megumi disinterested, or worse judgemental because of his monotone and lacklustre response. Thankfully, Yuuji just huffs out a laugh.

“You don’t have to sound so excited about it, Fushiguro.” He rolls his eyes, still grinning, arm still extended. “I thought you would’ve appreciated it more.”

Megumi softly bats his hand away. “I don’t ‘not appreciate it’, Itadori. It’s cool. I’m just… thinking about how it probably wouldn’t suit me.”

Megumi gets whacked on the shoulder. “Hey!” He complains as Yuuji pulls him into his room and sits him down on the bed. The nail polish smell, not having quite left the room yet, makes Megumi’s nose wrinkle up. Yuuji lets out a giggle that sounds like sunshine on skin.

“What are you doing?” Megumi almost whines as Yuuji rummages around in his closet. Yuuji turns to face him, pulling a plastic bag out with him with a flourish. His smile hasn’t left his face yet, and Megumi feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Won’t suit you? We’ll see about that,” says Yuuji, confident as always.

Megumi tries not to splutter. “Well. Yellow isn’t really my colour, Itadori.” He says his name too softly, like he always does. He tenses up and hopes Yuuji doesn’t notice.

To his almost-disappointment, Yuuji doesn’t react. Instead, he pulls out a bottle of purple nail polish and throws it towards the bed, a way too smug look on his face. Megumi wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

“Nobara got me to buy two,” he almost sing-songs, “so now you have to let me paint yours!”

In another reality, there is a Megumi that rips his gaze away from those brown eyes and mumbles something about Yuuji not making any sense. He leaves the room with his heart intact, and goes and eats ice cream with a spoon with his wolves in the dark.

Instead, he tries desperately to stay quiet, to suppress a gasp as Yuuji grabs his hand to inspect it. Megumi blames the tightness in his ribs on his binder and toughs it out. Except Yuuji’s hand is so warm and impossibly soft and that idiot shuffles close enough that their thighs are touching and it’s all. A lot.

Yuuji is still just cradling Megumi’s hand in both his own, turning it over and staring for so long it’s as if he’s trying to commit the skin to memory. The air is still thick with an oncoming storm, but now a tentative intimacy mingles amongst the electrified atoms. Megumi doesn’t dare move or speak, as if the universe will punish him by way of Yuuji letting go of his hand. He chooses rather to count each of Yuuji’s eyelashes, watch his nostrils flare as he breathes out in quiet concentration.

“You have really pretty fingers.” Yuuji murmurs, completely unaware of how devastating it is to Megumi’s heart.

Having been abandoned by his father, not knowing his mother, and his sister being in a coma, Megumi hasn’t been a close acquaintance to touch. Hell, even when his sister wasn’t confined to a hospital bed, he was too prickly and stubborn to receive hugs most of the time. Somewhere not-so-deep down, Megumi craves touch. Sometimes, he stares at the ceiling and wonders what it could feel like to be close to someone that didn’t involve the rigidity of training or the annoyance of Gojo’s hair ruffles. To feel warm and fuzzy and for it to be because of someone else’s hands.

Yuuji’s touch, combined with his soft words of praise, are a dream come true. Megumi can only cough awkwardly and watch as Yuuji starts to coat his short nails in purple. Yuuji’s tongue is almost the same colour as his hair, and it sticks slightly out of his mouth as he works. At some point Yuuji had turned that low music back on: a steady and slow lo–fi that does nothing to calm Megumi’s racing heart.

Yuuji keeps slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth on the back of Megumi’s hand as he glides the brush against his fingernails. It’s in all ways comforting as it is maddening, and Megumi does not expect the quiet, “you take such good care of your hands,” when it comes.

Yuuji chooses that exact moment to look into Megumi’s eyes. His face is so open and earnest and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep looking back without leaning forward into his space and just…

Megumi lets out a shaky breath. “Really? Thank you,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible with his pulse constricting in his jaw. His mouth feels dry.

Yuuji moves swiftly onto his other hand until all that’s left is his pinky. Not wanting to repeat the slight smudges he had accidentally painted onto Megumi’s left pinky, Yuuji pulls this last finger closer to his face, his breath fanning against it and sending shivers up Megumi’s whole arm. He finishes painting the nail quickly and carefully, but doesn’t put down Megumi’s hand.

Megumi can’t help the soft gasp he lets out as he feels a feather-light kiss pressed to his wrist. It’s as if his blood sings. They observe each other quietly for several moments – taking one another in, willing the silence to never break. Yuuji eventually pulls his face away from his work, now admiring the job.

“All finished.” Yuuji’s voice isn’t loud, but it fills the room. Megumi moves on the bed, beginning to pull his hand away. Yuuji drops his wrist in favour of grabbing Megumi’s waist with both hands, eyes almost panicked.

“You can’t leave yet!” His voice doesn’t raise above the volume of the music, but his words are emphatic. Megumi is trembling in his grasp. “You have to let them dry. And since I spent all that time painting your nails for you, it’s only fair that you stay here with me while you wait.”

Megumi is about to protest, knowing his limits are close to being reached. His face is burning hot and surely visible from the mere distance Yuuji sits away. He feels fit to burst.

The sky does before he has the chance.

The first clap of thunder sounds outside, and a pitter pattering of rain begins to thrum against the window. Megumi resigns himself to this still fume-filled room. He lies down on the bed next to Itadori Yuuji, feeling everything. He doesn’t answer when Yuuji asks if he wants to watch something, nor does he pay attention to whatever the pink-haired boy pulls up on YouTube for them.

Instead, Megumi exists in a content closeness to his friend, counting his eyelashes, and feeling the heat of Yuuji’s hands on his waist.

[cartoonsaint]

Try Not to Use the “F-Word,” Okay?

[Ao3]

was reading about @doodledrawsthings​ ‘coffee shop au’ and thought it was interesting that from the jump Luka uses “peck” as a swear. told myself not to overthink it... so naturally here’s nearly three thousand words about the idea that Luka used to swear a LOT. not sure how in keeping it is w his character, but it certainly is in keeping w MY experiences of unthinkingly swearing around a toddler ahahah.... fuck 8)

Summary: three snapshots of luka that are definitely only about swearing (coffee shop au) Characters: Luka, Vanessa, baby Hattie, Luka’s parents. Rating: T (features swearing, implied unhealthy relationship, post-birth scene, minor bleeding) Length: 2878 words

One evening during dinner, Luka loses his grip on his fork and drops it under the table with a clatter. “Fuck,” he says mildly.

Dad gasps, which is a poor choice since he was mid-sip of water. He sputters and coughs, face turning alarmingly red, while Mom throws her head back and laughs. It’s even louder and longer than usual; even by the time Luka crawls back up from under the table, errant fork clutched in one hand and brow wrinkled in confusion over his weird parents, his mom is still laughing. His dad, though, has managed to get his breath back.

“Luka T. Princeton!” he says hoarsely, looking both absolutely scandalized and absolutely soaked from the water that escaped his mouth and cup. “We do not say that word at the dinner table!”

“What word?” Luka asks, before a metaphorical lightbulb goes off. “Oh, ‘fuck’?”

“Don’t—!” his dad says, then goes “hrng” and looks to his wife for help. 

Luka’s mom, now face-down at the dinner table in stark contrast to her usually flawless manners, just smacks the table with a fist and laughs harder. The water in Luka’s cup ripples with it, which in itself is pretty funny, but his dad still looks so uncharacteristically thunderstruck that Luka is unsure whether to join in. Plus he pulled out the full name, so… 

Luka bites his lower lip, suddenly worried. Did he do something bad…?

“Where did you even hear that word?” Dad is massaging the bridge of his nose now in the way he only does when dealing with a tough client or a call that he doesn’t want Luka to overhear, and Luka finds he has to bite his lip even harder because it wants to wobble and he’s a big kid, he’s not going to cry.

“M-Mom said it the other day, when she cut her finger,” he admits, fiddling with his fork. Dad turns to her with such a look of betrayal, even as Mom tries to stifle her continuing giggles. “Um… is it bad?”

“Yes,” Dad says, just as Mom catches her breath and says, “Well, sort of.”

Luka’s parents glance at each other in surprised confusion, but Luka barely notices. He said a bad word… Does that mean he’s bad? Despite his best efforts, his vision starts to go blurry with tears as he stares down at the fork in his hands. He doesn’t want to be bad.

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” his mom says.

“I do,” replies his dad, sounding baffled. “I just assumed we were on the same page with this.”

Luka sniffs, trying desperately to hold it together, but he said a bad word — but he didn’t know — but does it matter if he didn’t know? He’s still bad, right? Hot tears start to trail down his cheeks and he sniffs again, harder and louder.

“Oh, Lu,” his dad says softly and crosses around the table to kneel by Luka’s seat. Luka wipes at his eyes fruitlessly as his mom reaches across and takes his smaller hand in hers. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean to get upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” his mom tells him, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s alright, Luka. We’re not angry — it is a, ah, a ‘bad word,’ but you didn’t know. It’s alright, sweetheart.”

Once Luka starts crying, though, it always takes him an embarrassingly long time to stop. He can’t help it. His frustration about unwillingly acting like such a dumb little kid makes his tears come faster and harder; he has to scrub at his face for a while, his dad handing him tissues, and so he doesn’t pick up on the silent conversation happening over his head between his parents.

They are a matched set in so many ways. To Luka they seem to move in perfect tandem, one picking up the tasks of the other with seamless grace. It seems so natural, so unpracticed and easy, and indeed some of it is — but as Luka cries, they communicate in a series of small expressions each has long-studied in the other: We will talk about this when Luka goes to bed. And, Well I thought it was funny. And, Alright maybe it was but I still don’t want him swearing. And, We’ll discuss it. We’ll figure it out together. I love you.

Luka never realizes. He just assumes that perfect couples are never out of sync with each other — and if they are out of sync, then they must not be perfect.

***

“Fuck, Ven, she’s perfect,” Luka breathes.

He couldn't get close enough sitting in one of the chairs, so he had been leaning against his wife's hospital bed when Vanessa passed him their child — their child, their baby, theirs — and his knees went weak. Now he’s kneeling on the tile floor, barely aware of his surroundings because in his arms he holds a truly, beautifully perfect little baby girl.

She has… a nose. He couldn’t say whether it’s more like his or Vanessa’s because this perfect bundle of joy is a scrunched up little pink newborn so mostly she looks like a lot of wrinkles that a sleepy face got on, but fuck, he loves that little nose and everything attached to it. Honestly through the tears he can barely see her right now but she’s perfect, perfect, perfect… even if she is, objectively speaking, not actually that appealing to look at. “Shit, Ven. Ven. Look at her goddamn little face, fuck.”

Vanessa makes a sound and reaches for him, touching his hand. “You don’t like her face?”

“I fucking love her face,” he says hoarsely. “I love her so goddamn much, Ven, I don’t even know how to say it. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Good,” Vanessa says tiredly. Luka doesn’t want to put their daughter down for a second so he does his best to wipe his eyes on the shoulder of his shirt sleeve. He gets to his feet only to sink right onto the bed beside his wife. His perfect, wonderful wife who has given them the tiny creature he never wants to look away from. “You wanted to name her Harriet, didn’t you?”

It’s like there’s a thread pulling his gaze directly to their daughter but he resists it for long enough to look up at the radiant woman he loves. She’s watching him, eyes glittering. “Do you mean…?”

She gives him one of her luminous smiles, even exhausted as she clearly is. “If it’s what you want, my love.”

Luka’s heart leaps as he looks down at their daughter — at Harriet. “Harriet,” he whispers in wonder. “Little Harry.”

Vanessa’s grip on his arm briefly tightens. “No,” she says.

Luka can’t help the wet laugh that comes out of him, though he tries to keep it down for the sake of his exhausted wife. “No,” he agrees. “How about… Hattie? Little Hattie?”

Hattie sleeps on, a teeny tiny person wrapped up safe in Luka’s trembling arms. He’s probably going to get dehydrated from all this crying and his face already hurts from how hard he’s smiling but, fuck, he doesn’t care about that at all when their perfect daughter is right here. “Hm? Hattie? How’s that sound, princess?” And he presses a gentle, wet kiss to Harriet’s brow.

Luka doesn’t notice Vanessa’s stung shock. He doesn’t notice the shadow of fear, anger, and confusion that darkens her face as she looks between her husband and the daughter she’s given him. It will take him a long time to realize his assumptions about their mutual goals as a unit are different.

For now, he loves Vanessa with all his heart — and loves their little Hattie just as much, if not more.

***

“Fuck,” Luka hisses, jerking his hand out of the hot, soapy water to check his fingertip. Blood wells up from its soft pad, mixing and diluting in the dirty dishwater. “Fuck,” he sighs again, and turns the squeaky nozzle of his shitty sink to run clean water over it. What kind of a fucking fool leaves a sharp knife in the sink like that, anyway.

Obviously, he does. This god awful apartment is just his, after all — he’d run here as soon as he could manage to pull together both the separate funds and distance necessary to prevent Vanessa locating it. This place is safe: Vanessa has never been here, and as of today she never will. So it’s safe, that is, from her — not from Luka’s own inability to keep track of where the goddamn sharp objects are.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself as the water rushing over his cut starts to run clean. “Shithead.”

It’s been a weird day — a weird week — shit, a weird few years, if Luka thinks about it. When Vanessa came into his life, she seemed to him so bright that nothing else was worth looking at. It took until their daughter — his daughter, now — for Luka to start looking into the darkness she brought as well. Then the divorce proceedings, custody battles, the restraining order — for so long it had seemed that the legal system would fail Luka and Harriet, that Vanessa’s long shadow would follow them wherever they went.

Until earlier this week, that is, when Vanessa used magic in the courtroom.

Things had happened quickly from there. The paperwork barring Vanessa in his and Hattie’s life was just signed and made official today; his copies are still set neatly on the junky, second-hand kitchen table until he figures out exactly where to put them. After so long, it’s finally over. He and Hattie are free.

The old pipes complain as he turns the water off. The cut isn’t too bad, but he probably ought to bandage it anyway. He wipes away the spilled water with a ratty towel, turning to —

“Ffffpffpffpfpfpflllffff,” says Hattie from right by Luka’s feet, which is also outside of her playpen.

“Fuck!” Luka yelps, leaping about a foot in the air. Hattie stops blowing air through her lips to smile up at him, totally angelic. Luka presses a hand to his chest, staring at his little girl. “Kiddo! You scared me! How did you—?”

He looks across the small, open floorplan into the den, where he’s set up several different brands and varieties of baby gates to keep Hattie out of the kitchen when he’s occupied with cooking or cleaning. Her many toys are left behind, the gates apparently untouched, but somehow she’s escaped them — again — to hug Luka’s leg and smile up at him.

He smiles back, of course — he couldn’t deny her anything. And even if it is a problem that his little girl can’t be contained anywhere, he feels a swell of pride at her continued and baffling ingenuity — as well as a slight prickling in his eyes because even with all her toys she always just seems to want to be close to him. “No one’s gonna keep you trapped anywhere, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, squatting down to ruffle her light brown waves.

“Fffpllfpllfff,” Hattie replies importantly, graciously accepting the affection.

“Ah, I see. Your jumping abilities are unmatched, are they?” Luka says in return. His daughter started moving early, her curiosity about the world apparently unable to be sated with just looking even when she was just a few months old. She has always wanted to touch, to crawl, to walk — just the other day Luka could swear he caught her trying to climb the couch. His little princess is unstoppable, and his pride in her every step has gotten him teary-eyed more than once (more than once this week, even).

“Fffflpllplflffff,” Hattie tells him, eyes bright. She smiles hugely in between blowing air through her lips. What she lacks in the ability to form words (she’s a little late, and Luka’s not worried, exactly, but he is watching that with hawk-like eyes) she makes up for in expression. She turns her big blue eyes to the hand Luka isn’t using to brush back her wavy locks, curious. “Fffllllllllflflplf?”

“Oh, your dad cut himself,” Luka explains, showing her the slim red line of blood beading up on the pad of his finger. “Pretty stupid, if you ask — oh, sweetie, don’t—!” She’s grabbed his finger in a little fist before he can stop her, smearing blood all over it. He quickly scoops her into his lap, frowning down at her messy hand. “Fuck. Alright, we’ll just—”

“Fffffffuck,” Hattie says clearly.

Luka blinks once. Twice. He looks down at his daughter, who is beaming up at him with clear pride.

“...what,” Luka says.

“Flffflpplf.”

“A-alright, okay, that’s — sorry, princess, your dad thought for a second there you said—”

“Pllllfffflllplflflfff. Fffuck!” Hattie says again. Then she claps her little hands together in delight, further spreading the blood between them.

“Ha,” says Luka, voice unusually high. “Hahaha I? You??? …Alright! Alright! This, ah, this is fine, kiddo, we’ll just—”

“Fuck! Ffplplffuck fuck fuck?”

Luka takes a deep breath. Then he takes another one.

When Harriet was first born, he’d made an effort to cut back on the swearing. He had the ability to turn it off, after all, in the courthouse and with clients, so presumably it should have been easy to transfer that back home, too. But changing the way he’s spoken for years in his own space turned out to be quite difficult; with the stress of the past few months, that effort had been one of the many things to fall by the wayside in favor of more immediate concerns.

So Luka has been swearing a lot lately. And his sweet Hattie has been quietly soaking it all up, patiently biding her time until she could attempt to communicate with her dad in his own language.

“Ffffuck?” Hattie asks, eyes concerned. She presses one dirty hand to Luka’s face, as though attempting to stem the flow of tears. “Fffpllppff?”

“Oh, princess, I’m sorry,” he tells her, rubbing his wet face on his shoulder to clear his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have — I—” He sniffs, then exhales hard. “Alright. Daddy’s been saying some bad words lately, but he’s gonna stop now, okay?”

“Fuck!”

A part of Luka really, really wants to laugh, actually, because damn is Hattie cute with her big, sparkling eyes, her chubby cheeks uplifted with a smile, the absolute adoration on her face as she looks up at him for approval. The contrast between how sweet she looks in her bird-patterned onesie and the foul language coming out of her mouth is almost —

“Fuck?”

“Nope!” he says brightly. “We’re gonna try something different! Okay, kiddo?” Hattie tilts her head adorably and Luka’s chest squeezes — fuck he loves her. “Hmmm…”

She watches him silently as he thinks. In the dozens of parenting books he’s read there was never anything explicitly about what to do if a toddler started cursing (because no one else has this problem because only he is this bad a dad, holy shit), but he can recall a number of chapters about encouraging them in pronunciation…

He’ll need something that sounds like “fuck,” but definitely isn’t. He laces his fingers together, tilting his head at Hattie. She pats his hands, looking solemnly back. He sticks his tongue out at her; delighted, she does the same. What word to use?

He notices that her orange onesie has penguins on it. 

“Alright, kiddo, this is going to be a little silly,” he says, and goes, “fllpppplffffpeck.”

It might be easier to just let this go, to let Hattie say and do whatever she wants, and part of Luka is tempted. But he knows now how important it is to talk in a family, to put in the work to understand one another. This situation might be a minor instance of it, but he wants to make sure he and Hattie never have a problem talking to each other. He’s willing to put in the work, as much as it takes.

It takes an hour or so to convince her that “peck” is superior to “fuck.” The process is complicated by the continued desire to laugh every time she swears, but eventually they manage, and Hattie goes toddling off merrily chanting, “peck peck peck peck.”

Luka painfully hauls himself up (shit, his tailbone hurts) to finally finish doing the dishes in water that has long gone cold. This is a good start, he thinks, but he’ll need to watch his own language as well. Maybe he can encourage Hattie’s positive association with the word with a bird toy or something? He considers this as he reaches into the water to unplug the drain —

And jerks his hand back as the same finger grazes probably the same goddamn knife. “Fff—!”

“Peck!”

He glances over his shoulder. Hattie is painstakingly tugging at the baby gates, trying to get back into the playpen he knows she knows he prefers her to be in. Her eyes are solemn, watching him for what he’ll do.

“...peck,” he agrees weakly. She smiles brilliantly and goes back to her toddler work.

God, he fu— he pecking loves her.

[hishoukoku]

Heyyyy. I wanted to know how if u know how cql differs from the original story. Which is better? I'm kinda lazy to read and the donghua seemed super rushed to me? The manhua i heard is similar but it doesnt give me the same vibe idk.... maybe it's just me. like even a few pointers about big story changes would help. tyyyyyyy

Heyy,

I wanna start by saying that I do love all adaptations, so I will do my best just to point out the differences without being partial (too much) for certain plot elements.

It's true that the drama is a neat way to experience the story at a slower pace, but it's so because in a TV series scenario it makes perfect sense for everything to be slower and laid out or fed to the viewer. It makes sense to overextend tender and dramatic moments or to take the time and add a bunch of funny hilarious bits.

The donghua however is absolutely amazing and 100% worth watching. The plot advancing quicker than in the drama or the novel actually makes a lot of sense given, well first this is animation. It focuses on what's really important and the way the action scenes are intertwined with the main story elements is absolutely astounding. In an animated medium they did the absolute best to bring this long story to life. Plus the art is absolutely GORGEOUS, down to every frame. I strongly recommend it.

The manhua does follow the novel almost to the letter which is so refreshing to see and it's so rad to read too, plus I like the art style and also no censorship xD

I love them all because they each work in their own way. Bringing the drama slow pace into the donghua wouldn't work at all as well as making CQL shorter and more action packed would look ridiculous.

Personally I think it's rad to watch them all and gain even more knowledge on an amazing story, by consuming the same story in multiple forms of media.I just think it's great to explore all the angles from which the story can be observed.

~

Onto a few major differences. I believe this list is far from complete, but I tried to jolt down what I could from memory:

-> Basically the main difference would be Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji uncovering the mystery of Nie Mingjue's death:

In CQL, this was changed from the novel plotline: dismembered arm(+ putting back the dismembered body) of his spirit, to a spirit sword. It ultimately leads to the same epic conclusion as it does in the novel. The culprit is unchanged, just the means to get there and the characters motivations along the way are altered.

-> Another major divergence would be the entire Yi Iron arc and the hunt for Yi Iron pieces, which takes a vast majority of the CQL flashbacks. This isn't present in the novel. The Yi Iron is only important because it practically explains the already existent and yet unpracticed demonic cultivation, which brings me to my next point.

-> In CQL Wei Wuxian is not the actual founder of demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian still uses demonic cultivation and all his inventions are there, including of course the Stygian Tiger Amulet. The reasoning behind this is the Yi Iron plot I mentioned above, which was something that was uncovered and worshipped in the past and it's a tremendous source of dark energy and power. This leads to the fact that demonic cultivation already exists, despite no one actually using it except for Wei Wuxian (after finding the first piece in the Xuanwu shell).

-> To emphasize more on this, a big part of WWX's morality is altered in CQL. The necromancy part is also heavily downplayed in CQL. We see the same choices being made which inadvertently lead to the same conclusions, but he is always shown as more of a victim of circumstance or there's always a bigger plot at stake, pointing all the blame towards him.

Without going into a character analysis in this arc (because I absolutely adore WWX and I would talk about him for hours) I wanted to point out a few more things on this:

- In CQL he's shown to be in wrong place at the wrong time type of situations, which is sort of downgrading what the original intent behind his character was about.

- I feel like the novel has built WWX to be very self-aware and more realistic and human. He knows exactly where his stands and what his moral compass is the entire time. He blames himself even for stuff out of his control and every decision he ever made no mater how it was perceived as, was all rooted in and filtered through his absolute sense of justice and selflessness. He's aware of his mistakes and assumes responsibility. He's very absolute about the decisions he sticks to and he's extremely intelligent and calculated.

Then again, I'm not blaming CQL per say for altering this, I know every divergence to his character was solely due to censorship (as morality usually is in cdramas), I just wish he'd been given a lot more credit where credit is due, like in the novel. Because he deserves a lot more validation and recognition. Absolving him of everything he ever did is actually a disservice to all the pain he endured and all the work he put into the cause he believes in and simply striving to survive and in the unfair, judgemental cultivation world.

-> The structure of the story is different. The novel, donghua and manhua jump from flashbacks to present time back and forth, while in CQL, episode 3 to episode 33(halfway) are all flashbacks presenting the entire past story arc to you, before returning to the present fully. Again, to have everything laid out in order, works well in a TV series environment.

-> The relationship between WangXian evolves differently. The novel has Wei Wuxian mistakenly concluding that Lan Wangji doesn’t like him, driving a wedge between them after the Nightless City events. This of course, has a beautiful natural progression into romantic relationship, later on after he resurrects.

CQL on the other hand shows Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji having a very close relationship from the moment they reunite as Wei Wuxian died knowing Lan Wangji cares deeply about him. I believe this to be a bit utopic as, technically without previous explicit romantic affection - censorship -, Wei Wuxian's actions wouldn't normally lead to such an easy transition into them being extremely close, especially for someone as stoic as Lan Wangji. True, Lan Wangji has always believed in Wei Wuxian's sense of integrity and justice and this was prepared beforehand, however it would make even more sense if this was backed, like in the novel, by love as a powerful incentive.

-> Wei Wuxian's reincarnation in Mo Xuanyu's body doesn't cause him to alter his appearance in CQL. This isn't really explained except for subtle hints that Mo Xuanyu took precautions to ensure Wei Wuxian looked like his original self, but ofc we can tell it was done so due to convenience.

In the novel it's clearly stated how Wei Wuxian takes Mo Xuanyu's appearance which makes complete sense to happen after he used the Sacrifice Summon.

This would be about it as main pointers, if you'd like me to go into details for any of them please let me know. Otherwise I feel like this post is already long enough, heheh.

[hi-hey-haechan]

29 + 33 with Jeno ? If that's okay to request a second time

Thank you for requesting!

29: “If you can’t sleep...then how about we have sex?”

33: “I’m going to put some clothes on before you say anything else”

I was half-asleep while writing this, so it’s probably incoherent

You didn’t understand why you couldn’t fall asleep. You tried everything, from sleeping pills to laying in one spot and keeping your eyes shut for who-knows how long, to even counting sheep. Not a cell in your body was tired, and your eyes refused to stay closed.

With a quiet groan that was not loud enough to disturb your boyfriend, you slowly tilted your head to glance at the light from the clock on your bedside table. The digital numbers gleamed “1:38.” How the hell had you had the patience to attempt to sleep for so long? You laid in Jeno’s arms, awake, while your boyfriend was fast asleep next to you.

You inhaled the cool air of your bedroom, only to huff out a sound of frustration. Decidedly, you came to the conclusion that taking a shower was the best option at that point. You’d heard that cold water slowed your heart rate, but warm showers were so comforting, as well. At the same time, you also wished Jeno would shower with you, not to do anything scandalous, just to feel his arms hold you as the water fell over you two.

Following the shower...had you gotten more tired? Had your heart rate slowed? You couldn’t tell. Since you’d left your clothes on the floor of the bedroom, you decided to just dress in there. Jeno was asleep, so he wouldn’t see you like this. Plus, you two had been together for three years - he’d seen you naked plenty of times.

“Wow, what a sight to wake up to at 2 AM,” a deep voice sounded from your bed.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you whirled around to make eye contact with Jeno, who was now wide awake. “I—I couldn’t sleep,” you explained weakly, your entire body suddenly on fire under his stare.

Jeno was wordless for a few seconds, simply admiring you. His eyes noticed everything, from the curve of your calf to the muscles that showed in your legs as you stood in place. The expanse of your torso, from your stomach, which he adored, to the curve of your back. He didn’t see extreme details of your figure due to the darkness of the bedroom, but the outlines of the physique he viewed to be perfect were visible. His eyes scanned over the unspeakable parts: the curves of your breasts and ass. Even in the pale light of the moon, he saw the buds of your nipples, and his mind immediately needed to take them in his mouth. “How the hell do you look so fucking gorgeous at 2 AM like this?” The word “hot” was running through his head, but he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He may have been tired before, but just the sight of your naked figure, perfectly illuminated by the pale moonlight, it was doing things to him. The idea of feeling your ass under his hands, the thought taste of your skin against his lips and tongue, they were turning him on. He sucked in a breath, needing to be inside of you right then.

The tent where Jeno’s crotch was under the covers didn’t go unnoticed. “Okay, I’m going to put some clothes on before you say anything else.”

“No!” Jeno exclaimed, his sharp and pleading response shocking you.

“I’m cold, Jeno.”

“Listen,” he proposed, trying to think of a reasonable way to get what he wanted in that moment. “If you can’t sleep...then how about we have sex?”

Wordlessly, you walked over to your boyfriend, and gently, after kneeling on the bed, you palmed the tent through the covers. A quiet moan left his lips, and you smiled, rolling your eyes a little, affectionately. “You wake up at 2 AM, see me naked, and then suddenly pop a boner? You really can’t control your hormones, can you?”

“It’s not my fault that your sexy body makes me horny. So, can I fuck you, or no?”

“I mean, it could make me tired, so in that case, ruin me,” you replied.”

Your words, despite being simplistic, were so suggestive, and he even groaned.

With fire, your mouths connected. It was not a gentle kiss from the start, your mouths eager and needy against each other. The sheet had already been pulled down, and somehow, he got you to collapse, so your weight was fully on top of him. The kiss was a clash of lips, teeth, and tongue, messy and unpracticed, but lustful and urgent. His lips were like a blazing against your mouth, his desperation turning you on. Amidst all the kissing, his shirt had ended up somewhere across the room. His sweatpants were off, as well, and you kissed his hard, clothed member through his underwear. At your teasing, he moaned and removed the final barrier of clothing.

Already wet for him, as well as horny, you slipped onto his cock without much difficulty. His large length was always difficult to get used to, and at this angle, it felt as though his length could literally split you apart. You bottomed out, his entire length sheathed inside you. “Fuck you’re so big,” you choked out in a high voice. Pain was present as you stayed put, waiting for pleasure to come. Your breaths were labored, and Jeno’s hands grabbed your waist, already groaning from pleasure.

To hold yourself steady, you rested your hands on his chest, and you rose up a bit on his member, before sinking back down. The sensation of his thick length rubbing against your walls felt incredible. You began to move your hips faster, bouncing on his length steadily after you found a rhythm.

Jeno’s fingers dug into your hips, helping you move up and down on him. “H-how are you so tight?” he moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow as you rode him.

He propped himself into a sitting position, giving him a better view of your breasts as they bounced, due to your rapid motions as you fucked yourself on Jeno’s length. Jeno’s favorite thing about this position was seeing your chest bounce, and his lips also had perfect access to your erect nipples. He connected his lips to one of them, and your hands went to tangle in his hair, your whines egging him on. His tongue swirled around the nub, and he began to suck. At that, you moaned loudly.

As you went faster and faster, you grew closer to your edge. You had grown tired, and your legs were weak with pleasure. His hips were wet from the constant slapping of your hips on his.

For a split second, he pulled out, making you beg for him to reenter you. You were so close to cumming already. Jeno flipped you over so you were on the bottom, your legs curled up to your chest so he could hit the deepest possible spots inside of you.

His hips drilled into yours faster than you’d gone while riding him, each thrust against your g-spot, seeing stars. His hand moved down between you two, and he found your sensitive nub, causing you to cry out, already highly stimulated from riding him. His assault, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, had your seeing stars.

“I’m close, I’m so fucking close,” you groaned, bucking up into his hips as they met yours. His tip was pressing against your g-spot, and the knot in the stomach came loose altogether.

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, fucking hell, oh my gosh,” you cried out, gripping his hair more tightly. You saw stars as your legs shook, walls violently collapsing around him as you cried out and moaned.

His face was buried in your neck, and he gruffly groaned your name over and over, as though you were the only thing that existed in his mind. Jeno shot his hot load up inside of you, painting your walls with his creamy seed. His hips were stuttering as you both rode out your highs.

You both took deep breaths, trying to come down from your extreme orgasm. For some time, he just held you, refusing to even pull out. Your breathing and heart rates, both of which were quite high, due to the recent activities.

“So,” Jeno said, “Do you think you’re tired enough to sleep now?”

With a laugh, you nodded, your entire body feeling exhausted.

[silly-jellyghoty]

A random though which turned out to be a lot longer than i have anticipated, but please bear with me. I swear that i have a punch line in mind.

So!

Ball pythons with the spider gene have wobbling issues and have a hard time to right themselves up when turned. That's what every python owner and breeder knows (or should know). I'm not a zoologist or a genetist or any other relevant -ist, but hear me out.

While playing around with my Artemis (a queen bee morph aka pastel + lesser + spider), i have noticed that the only time she wobbles is when she has her head and neck up above the substrate, but the moment she feels a touch in the wobbling area, she immediately stops wobbling and clings to whatever has touched her. If that means she is touching ground after being flipped up side own, she rights herself up. If that something is the side and then the ceiling of her terrarium, she scales it up (and then flops down when there's too little of her on the ground to keep the ballance), if it's my hand, she slithers along it as if it was ground, even if she is technically still up side down.

So it made me think.

What if the spider wobble isn't a mental issue in terms of a faulty brain activity, but rather it's connected to nerves responsible for detecting gravitation and body position (i'm sure those have a real scientifical name)? Maybe they are underdeveloped, maybe they are deformed, maybe entirely missing. I don't know. But if the snake isn't aware of what is up and what is down and if it isn't aware where exactly and in which position is the rest of its body, it would explain the wobble. After all, it's hard to keep steady if you can't fine tune your muscless due to lack of information usually provided by those sensors.

Since they lack this essential but often overlooked sense, spider gene pythons learned to compensate by using touch and sight. However unlike those position sensors which if i remember correctly from my long past biology classes are connected directly to muscle tissue, sight and touch needs to be processed in brain and only then send into muscles. The time delay may cause wobbles through compensation and overcompensation of the ballance (instead of instant muscle tension correction of non-spiders in comparision) back and forth so while in average the snake stays in more or less the same position (lurking to catch their prey), it can't keep perfectly still.

The corkscrewing may be a combination of this aspect and extreme stress, be it positive or negative. If the snake is scared, stressed, or overly excited from smelling food or an ovulating female or similar, their tiny brain may be simply so caught in the moment that it stops processing touch and sight stimuli and translating them into right muscle tension. As a result, instead of sticking to the ground or holding themselves in the S shape like before the strike, be it to hunt or to defend, muscles contract to create bends, but they are doing it wrong, resulting in a spiral shape aka corkscrew instead of that characteristic S.

Many rescue pythons come from owners who only had them in empty boxes with just water and substrate. These snakes often come in with stress issues, wobbling and corkscrewing hard as a result (for all understandable reasons) yet magically stop doing it or at least stop doing it as frequently as before, once they are placed in habitats with a proper enrichment. Also older snakes often "grow out" of severe wobbles they had as babies and juveniles (maybe because their brains are finally fully developed to process touch as their main muscle sense so to speak?) My guess is that it's exactly because of this enrichment, however not because they are green or made of wood*, but because of simply having many obstacles all around. Whenever a snake starts wobbling and it touches something, it is reminded - this is here, this is down, crawl now. It's easier to be aware of that when there are leaves and twigs all around, than when it's only the box, ground, and one water dish somewhere in the corner.

This could explain why spiders are found in nature instead of being extinct. After all, the spider gene wasn't a mutation developed and noticed in captivity, but caught wild and then selectively bred for the pattern. Snakes with this gene must then logically be able to feed, mate, and generally do snake stuff on their own without any help. The main reason why they can do this is probably that pythons with spider gene in nature are always surrounded by thousands of plants, roots, grass blades, and other stuff providing them with those oh so necessary subtle touches all year around. And while they may wobble a bit from time to time, their specific pattern is more than enough to compensate for their less successful hunts by making them quite invisible. Pros and cons of genetics.

Another advantage of the gene may also be directly connected to their lack of one vital sense. So the snake doesn't have any idea what is up or down but is pretty sure that touching stuff with belly does the trick, right? My theory is that because of this, they could be better climbers. After all, solid stuff is solid stuff, but while non-spiders tend to stick to the ground because they know that down is good, more or less, spiders would seem it as perfectly reasonable to crawl up branches. After all, solid is solid, crawl now. Again. Their pattern looks less than round and oval leaves in various stages of decay and more like a bunch of sticks throwing shade over a tree trunk. Perfect masking for climbing if you ask me.

Now for the punch line.

So i have deduced that instead of a snake variant of mental disability, spider gene (and possibly other wobble genes) can be rather a physical disability - an issue with registering gravity. Other than that, these ball pythons are perfectly normal and healthy snakes happily living their lives anywhere where they can climb and slither and cling to solid stuff regardless of whether the thing is actually the ground or not, right?

So. I propose an experiment for confirming this theory - get the spider python into space. Put that baby into a habitat made of sticks and pieces of plumbing and fake plants. They would be a perfect sample for whatever other experiments anyone would make with them. Royal pythons don't drink. As long as their humidity is right and their food juicy, they get enough water as is, so there is no need for unpractical water dishes in space. They also don't care about there not being any "up" unlike mice and was that a chicken once? A duckling? You know what i mean. You don't even need to feed them for months if they are nice and chubby prior leaving the Earth, they would be just fine in their little space hides through the whole duration of the mission.

So i say - space snakes

*) don't take this as me dismissing enrichments, i am not. They are useful and fun and keep your animals safe and healthy, plus also they look great as a display

[hrtiu]

I’ve been working on some prompts for my original writing, so I thought I’d share. The story I’m working on is a retelling of the legend of Mu Guiying, a female warrior in the Song Dynasty. The prompt was to tell the story of my character’s birth. Let me know what you think! TW: childbirth and character death.

Guiying came too early into the world, which should have tipped her father off to the kind of overeager attitude that would get her into trouble throughout her life. Lihua had only just started her childbirth tinctures when her contractions began, the pain at first easily dismissed as a false start. Then the pulsing turned regular, each surge stealing away Lihua’s breath. Mu Yu rubbed his wife’s sore back and watched on helplessly until she ordered him to call for the midwife. 

“It’s too early, isn’t it?” he said.

“Apparently nobody told our son that,” Lihua said, seizing on the time between contractions to rub her rounded belly affectionately. This was back when she and Mu Yu still optimistically held onto the belief that their firstborn would be a boy.

Mu Yu sent Guo Boheng down to the village to fetch the midwife, and Boheng came back with Midwife Xiao plus his own wife in tow. Lihua had attended Mother Guo’s childbirth the previous year, and Mother Guo was eager to return the favor.

Mu Yu and Boheng set up a birthing tent for Lihua a respectable distance from the fortress, enough to give her some privacy from all the men filling the barracks. The tent should have been already prepared, but the contractions came much earlier than anyone expected. Lihua’s family had a history of smooth, on-time deliveries, and Old Lady Gao’s bones had confirmed that the tradition would continue, but Guiying defied them all.

The birth was quick. Too quick. Mu Yu waited outside a respectful distance away, pacing and fretting despite the midwife’s warnings that it could take up to several days for the baby to come. But Lihua’s contractions started in the early morning and the noontime sun burned directly overhead when the cries of his firstborn penetrated the stifling tension.

It wasn’t proper, but Mu Yu didn’t care. He burst into the tent, eager to see his wife and son, and the three women looked up at him in surprise. Mother Guo was helping Lihua lie down on a bed in the corner, while Midwife Xiao wiped the mess of childbirth from the baby’s clammy skin. Lihua’s eyes were foggy with exhaustion, her gaze unfocused and distant. The midwife handed Mu Yu the child in a woolen blanket and he took the impossibly small bundle into his arms, his big hands careful and uncertain.

Guiying, though she hadn’t yet received that name, blinked up at her father, her cloudy grey eyes shining with life. Mu Yu knew that newborns couldn’t see much, but he swore his child recognized him, her instincts somehow understanding their blood bond.

“Husband,” Lihua said between heaving breaths. “I’m sorry, I bore you a girl.”

Disappointment set heavily on Mu Yu’s shoulders. Then he looked down again, into his daughter’s unseeing eyes. She had her mother’s nose, with its slight dip south right at the tip that looked like an arrow pointing to her chin. The weight lifted.

“Don’t apologize. She’s perfect,” Mu Yu said, his throat catching.

Lihua turned her head up at her husband with a weak smile. “Yes, she is.”

Mu Yu returned his attention to his daughter and went through various characters in his head, testing each one on his tongue to see how they fit this new creature. Fei? No, too insubstantial. Li? Like her mother? No, too common. She was only a few minutes old, but Mu Yu could already tell that his daughter would live a singular life. Gui? Hmm… That had a nice ring to it…

“Midwife Xiao?” Mother Guo said. “The bleeding is getting worse.”

Mu Yu looked up. Lihua was pale—even paler than when he’d first arrived—and her eyes had shifted from foggy to glassy. He wanted to go to her side, but Midwife Xiao got there first, and Mother Guo occupied the other side of Lihua’s bed. And if he went, who would look after the baby?

“Is she alright? What can I do?” he asked.

“She tore badly during the birth. The baby came fast and Lihua pushed hard. I’ll do what I can but the bleeding is bad,” Midwife Xiao said.

“Lihua? Can you still hear me?” Mu Yu said, raising his voice over the increasing volume of his daughter’s cries.

“Mu Yu…” she mumbled.

The midwife bustled past him, reaching for a bundle of bandages and her instruments. Mu Yu dodged out of the way, arms tightening protectively around the child.

“Lord Mu, it might take some time to help Lady Mu. Bring the baby down to Old Lady Gao in the village. She knows how to care for newborns.”

Mu Yu nodded. The baby was already growing fussy in his arms, searching for comfort and security in this strange new world. “Is there nothing I can do for Lihua?”

Midwife Xiao shook her head gravely. “We picked an auspicious location, we used the tinctures, we followed all the traditions. Now it is up to fate.”

“I understand.”

Mu Yu bade Lihua goodbye, though she no longer heard him, then retreated from the tent. He found a groom to saddle Baixue for him, then rode swiftly down the mountain to the village, child nestled into the crook of his arm. Old Lady Gao leapt to assist him, bathing and dressing the baby and finding her someplace comfortable to sleep. Mu Yu watched his brand new daughter as she slept, her breaths noisy and unpracticed. Her tiny blue-tinged hands curled up under her chin, and her smooshed face seemed to grimace even in the peace of sleep. Still, Lihua’s nose was unmistakable. 

Mu Yu leaned over his daughter and reached out his index finger, just barely brushing it across her downy forehead. 

“Everything I possess, I give to you, daughter.”

Lihua died during the night, and Mu Yu chose a name alone. Mu Guiying.

[otomescriptdoctor]

Masking - Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939147/chapters/68451419 You take a deep breath. It’s always hard to ride out your heats alone. Past lovers haven’t been able to handle you during a heat, because you’d rather take care of your own needs than worry about unpracticed hands further frustrating you. It’s all over now, though. There’s an electronic hum from the dresser, you only have a few moments to fix yourself. The mirrored surface is swept away by the display interface of an EAC agent. It reminds you of Minority Report; one of the few non-Mission Impossible movies you adore because it has Tom Cruise. Yes, maybe it was Minority Report that made you want to work for EAC. The Boss’s voice comes in, polite but betraying a mild impatience, “How are you getting along, Nagisa?”

Hearing Boss's voice call your alias switches you into work mode, your posture stiffens.

“The same as usual, all going according to plan.” Your reply is automatic, like your muscle memory, it’s part of your routine.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that, last night was a lot of fun.”

Your mind wanders, thinking about the woman he was dancing with. Did he go home with her?

The Boss continues, “I almost can't believe how quickly you completed your mission. You never fail to impress me.” You detect a hint of sarcasm at the end.

This is not our Alpha. He is jealous.

These thoughts are not helping. Usually your hindbrain is leashed after heat, but it’s stubbornly keeping part of your attention. Reminding you that there is an Alpha who wants you to burn for him. You are thankful for being exhausted enough to leave a towel on your vanity seat. The Boss clears his throat. Oh shit, you’re expected to respond.

You manage to get out, “Thanks, I couldn't have done it without you, Boss.”

It was honestly sheer dumb luck you got it so fast. Remembering his touch gets your heart racing. Remembering you didn't have control boils your blood.

But we met Alpha. Alpha will take care of us.

No, you think, you should use your frustration at your unusual lack of control during the mission to reign in your rebelling hindbrain. That inner voice quiets again, for now.

The Boss continues, “I collected more information on Mr. Soejima, I'm sending it to you now.”

Kei Soejima’s curriculum vitae appears on your monitor. He went to Oxford. Still doesn’t explain how an Englishman ended up with a Japanese name. Oh, his family name is Romley. Huh.

“He is descended from a line of English nobility. His grandfather is an Earl. Earl Romley is a powerful figure who owns some of the most valuable land in England. Mr. Soejima is following in his footsteps. He's a special diplomat working for the British Embassy.”

You have your own ideas about long-time diplomats, and remember the feel of his strong arms. He must work out a lot despite being a diplomat.

Your mouth races ahead of your brain. “Does he have any enemies?”

The Boss frowns slightly. “That's the strange part, he doesn't seem to have any enemies to speak of.”

That explanation feels odd. He's an Alpha. Alphas make enemies everywhere. They literally can’t help it. He definitely didn’t smell like he was suppressed.

Your employer continues, “He's an influential man not only in Europe, but around the world. He helps out with his family's foundation in addition to being a diplomat.”

It’s your turn to frown. “It sounds like he's... perfect? Literally, too good to be true. There has to be some reason he's one of our targets, Boss.”

Any excuse to drop this case. You silently plead with the universe to give you a break.

He continues in a lower pitch, “This is off the record, but there's a snap election coming up - parliament is being dissolved ahead of time and obviously the prime minister position will be in play. Given that's just around the corner, why is he in Japan on unofficial business? Your next job is to monitor him and find out why he is here. Perhaps ascertain whether or not he has political ambitions.”

Inwardly you groan. Your heat only ended this morning. Being around that Alpha is likely to awaken it again. Okay, you don't have to steal any information or prove wrongdoing. That's a plus. You look down at your planner while replying.

“Understood, I already have his contact information, I sent it to you earlier this afternoon,” You look up to see him nodding, “I've already been invited to afternoon tea hosted by Mr. Soejima. I'll work on getting closer to him there.”

This is what you’re known for, and he gives you a smile. “Impressive, you've already made arrangements with Mr. Soejima… I knew I could count on you.”

You used to live for compliments like this from the Boss, but it doesn't give you the glow you used to get. He only asks you to do one thing after all: be an excellent agent. And now it’s simply what is expected because in many cases, you have arrived. A long time ago.

“Sounds like you're well on your way to success as usual. Mr. Soejima was quite taken with you.”

Your heart rate quickens involuntarily. Oh dear. His spicy, woodsy scent lingers in your mind, as well as the only warmth he had -- the warmth of his lips on yours.

“...What makes you say that?” Smooth… just barely saving face while your mind was racing.

“You looked like you were enjoying...the dance with him.” His pause to watch for your reaction offends you. You are a professional.

You scoff, "I better have. It was part of my job to make it seem like I am having fun. You were the one who taught me that.”

He doesn't sound convinced. “Just a part of your job? Hmm. I wonder if that's the whole story. There were times when you weren't even looking at me.”

He is jealous because we found our Alpha and he knows it.

Oh, was he jealous? You feel a little relieved he was keeping an eye on you, but now you wonder about his intentions. Maybe he saw you had a crush on him previously. Maybe this was why he insisted on having you, despite marking your calendar for private time to deal with your heat, to perform this mission. Disgust rises in your core.

“I wouldn't have let him touch me if it weren't for the mission,” you hiss.

“I'll believe you this time. Just be careful prince charming doesn't sweep you off your feet. I'll be looking forward to your success.”

His smile seems genuine, but you know this is a test of your loyalty. Same old song. Same old routine. There’s only ever one correct answer.

“I won't let you down.” He ends the call.

You sigh. Being tense at the start of the mission is normal. You're just edgy staying at home. Especially when the dress you wore the night before still smells like him. You even used his lingering scent to help you get off during your heat. Now that the smell has mostly worn off, and your heat is over, you are eager to scrub the rest of his scent from your memory.

While there may not be as much obvious danger, you remind yourself that you'll need to stay on your guard. Soejima is an Alpha, and your Omega reacted very strongly to his scent. Suddenly, his smile invades your mind. It’s upstanding and refined, but there's darkness underneath.

Was it just your imagination? You're unsure if you want to see it. You’re going to have to keep close to Mr. Soejima and his associates to gather as much information as you can at Raven Resort.

You take a deep sigh. Well, at least you still have most of that tub of your beloved Lady Borden French Vanilla to polish off. You walk out to your living room and decide that you need to spend some time centering and getting your id back under control. Preferring to disassociate by having a movie marathon, you know the perfect man to get your mind off of Prince Charming incarnate. Waving your arm across your DVD collection you stop on Minority Report. Time to put it in and get comfortable.---It’s the weekend, and you make sure to dress far more conservatively than you did for the masquerade, an off-white lace dress with a high collar and three-quarter sleeves. The pencil shaped skirt of the garment comes down to your knees, but it does hug your curves. You’re ever aware that part of you hopes he’ll like it.

You step into the hotel lobby at agreed-upon time, and you see Soejima is already there, waiting. Seems like he always has his own bubble, separating him from the crowd. There’s no hint of the devilishness he displayed at party. You start wondering if you imagined it. The Boss’s warning echoing in your brain - he may look like prince charming, but you’re sure you’re prepared this time.

You want his attention, on your terms. You turn towards him, taking a step and loudly clicking your heels on the floor. He immediately notices the noise and spots you. His eyes widen in recognition and he breaks out into a gentle, welcoming smile. It's only the second time you’ve met. Mirroring facial expressions will make him feel closer to you. You smile back. He maintains eye contact as he walks to you. It doesn’t feel quite the same as it did at the party. Back then, he was a predator stalking an easy kill. Now, he is a living embodiment of charm. But his eyes darken, drawing you into their warm depths. You curse at yourself for falling for those damn eyes again. Time for grounding your senses. You’re wearing work perfume with suppressants. Your comm device is in your ear. You’re insistent that today will go by your terms today. His steady pace toward you is producing an almost hypnotic rhythm. You struggle with trying to ignore the smoke and spice of his scent.

“I’m so glad you would make it, Nagisa.” His voice sends gentle rumbles straight to your core.You bow deeply and reply, “Thanks again for the other night.”

“Don’t mention it. And if I may say…” He takes the opportunity to look you up and down. “You look absolutely stunning.”

A blush crawls across your cheeks. No mask to hide it today.

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, “No matter how bewitching the mask, it's just an unnecessary decoration on a woman like you.”

Your hand slips from his cold grip as you reply, “You’re too kind. By the way, thank you for inviting me today.”

He smiles. “You’re a welcome addition to our little get together. Now if you’ll come this way...”

 He directs you to an elevator that goes directly to the upper floors. Although he makes no further contact, it nonetheless feels like he is escorting you on his arm. The perfect gentleman. You think back to your intel -- he owns the floor where he’s hosting the afternoon tea. Considering the masquerade, you brace yourself for this being far beyond the average get-together. You have no idea what to expect, and Soejima doesn’t seem keen on letting go of all his mysteries. You wonder if you can peel off his Prince Charming veneer and expose him for who he really is. Overcome with a feeling of exhilaration, you step on to the elevator with him.

[olivieblake]

We have an English paper in which we can write about any academic topic or whatever and I was thinking of writing mine on expecting more from our female characters (I guess mostly in terms of a personality), especially in YA novels since that's what most people my age read, plus I was thinking of somehow including the "not like other girls" thing when its brought to life in the form of a character... anyway, do you have any thoughts/suggestions on this?

I have so much to say that I’m going to try to break it down to bullet points, okay? I’d answer in a vlog but I know you’re working on a paper that I assume is due soon, so I’ll try to be succinct and possibly (possibly!) organized.

I’ve talked before about the fallacy of scarcity, which in this case is the idea that in a male-dominated world, only a few women can succeed. This is applicable in the professional realm, of course, where women in a male-dominated field (aka historically all of them except maybe the sex industry and witchcraft) are competing for fewer spots, and therefore women must tear each other down in order to be the one to get ahead. This is a fallacy primarily because there’s no reason only a few women should succeed outside of the patriarchal system positioning us as rivals rather than allies; isolating us that way is, in a sense, a very effective subjugation (but that’s a point for another time.) In romances, this idea somehow permeates our narratives: that there are only a few good men (arguably true) and therefore we are all competing against each other for them (definitely false). 

In romances especially, there’s this idea that one woman prevails because she is a specific subset of qualities; as I mentioned in my discussion of Jane Eyre, Brontë uses Jane’s narrative to highlight how Jane is clever, devoted, headstrong, whereas other girls are not. In modern YA, the “not like other girls” character prevails because she has offbeat interests, quirky opinions, she doesn’t care how she looks, etc. (See below re: male-approved qualities.) But first of all, this is not how relationships work. You do not win someone’s affection by possessing a list of qualities that other women don’t have. That’s issue number one.

Now add in the fallacy of scarcity, aka that you are competing with other women and therefore you must be different and better in order to win. What does this do in reality? It pits women against each other. It presumes there to be more or less value in the way in which you are a woman. But consider this: why should caring about your looks be a sign of stupidity or vapidness when there are entire industries devoted to making women—and especially teen girls—feel ugly or fat or generally imperfect? This is worse for POC women who are underrepresented and criticized for their otherness, of course, but on the whole, women are targets for a marketplace of self-hatred. Adding in the internal misogyny of “I am better than this girl because my desirability meets a male standard for behavior and hers does not” is not helping us. (Besides, the “not like other girls” is usually told she’s beautiful, isn’t she? So it rather undermines the whole thing, and creates an even more impossible standard for perfection: i.e., that you should be perfect without trying.)

Elena Ferrante (by way of Lenù) says something in the Neapolitan Novels about how she’s male in her head, or essentially has taught herself to think like a man, and this is how she has succeeded in her career. This is essentially the same concept as the underlying foundation for the “not like other girls” archetype: a beautiful woman who acts and thinks like a man (and who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, of course, because vanity is a characteristic belonging to Evil Women who ultimately prey on men; yikes!! Poor, poor men). Can you see why this might be more conducive to keeping men in a position of privilege rather than contributing to us raising each other up? Men set an unrealistic standard, and for some reason, women police each other with it. We are women, with women’s experiences; there is no reason we should act or think like men, and yet for some reason we force each other into the same woman-shaped hole by shaming each other for the pieces of ourselves that don’t fit.

The last fallacy is that of the “not like other girls” being a “cool girl,” aka someone who does not have emotional needs. Someone said this brilliantly recently that there is a pervasive belief among women that in order to be worthy of being loved, you must require as little as possible. Carrie Fisher says something interesting in her autobiography about how Harrison Ford “taught her how to be casual,” which I think is a common experience for young women. Yes, boys are often conditioned to reject the “femininity” of emotion and this is equally problematic, but I’m not going to worry about them right now. I want to focus on the idea that as a result of male emotional detachment, women learn that reluctance or ambivalence to make demands is a desirable quality; i.e., they will want us more if we need them less. We are conditioned over and over—particularly as teenage girls—to need less, to demand less, to ask for less. The entire romance genre is built on this idea that a man will one day come along and save us; not from a tower (we’ve progressed at least that much) but from loneliness or desire. That there is a man who will not only know our secret wants, but also give them to us without us having to say what they are. But not only is this unreasonable to expect, it’s unhealthy for both genders. The man who can read your mind or who knows intuitively how to love you does not exist; especially if he is unpracticed in loving others.

I would argue that yes, we should honor our female characters by expecting more from our authors—more truth, more sensitivity, more awareness—but this can manifest by expecting, in some senses, less. There is no universal woman (certainly no Perfect Woman) and thus, female characters should not all feel the same. They should also be allowed to have flaws, and to grow as they go. There shouldn’t be one girl who is so different from the others that only she can be the victor; this is in some senses expecting too much, and also implying all the fallacies above. 

IN CONCLUSION (lol), true diversity is about expressing reality; not that there should be an array of female personalities because different female personalities need to be provided, but because the world is occupied by a wide variety of women who ARE deeply unique even while we are sharing the same universal human experience. The same argument goes for just about anything, gender (or nonbinary) experiences in addition to race, ethnicity, religion, culture, sexuality, etc. 

[anotherisodope]

My OC Morgan’s Reaction to Fallout 4 Characters

Preston: My goodness, you’ve taken on a lot of responsibility, haven’t you? Sure, I’ll help out. (Five minutes later) I’M ADOPTING YOU THIS INSTANT

Codsworth: Oh, Codsy, you fret far too much. Also, we need to get some armor on that chassis of yours.

MacCready: Your...son’s sick? *Is now 20000% at his disposal until that’s fixed*

Curie: *regardless of current body* Now here we have the most adorable scientist in the Commonwealth, and one of the few trustworthy ones. I think I’ll protect her. 

Cait: *climbs into cage* New plan, let’s kick all that raider ass out there and then go get a beer.

Piper: Such a bright, brave, idealistic young lady, but so unpracticed in good journalism. Also we need to talk to her about leaving her young, defenseless sister alone in a city run by a man whom she’s at war with and who is responsible for at least one fucking pogrom.

Deacon: *Sometimes chucks a bottlecap at him when she catches him spying, sometimes conspires with him to convince people in Diamond City that he’s actually triplets* My favorite wanker.

Hancock: *Spent the week helping out in Goodneighbor* *Is now drunk, high or both, has found a piano and is being a highly entertaining ham* *also would probably take a bullet for him*

Danse: Your heart’s in the right place, Paladin, but we need to have a little talk about history, why your leader is a fanatic, and why genocide is wrong....

X: Oh, so, the Institute has assigned me a guard. I mean bodyguard, of course. Hm. Handling this one with care. He’s exquisite, though...*sigh*

Strong: ...oh, where to begin with this one. At least he likes Shakespeare. CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR!

Dogmeat: Well, you’re certainly a dog! *Level of cooing over and sillness depends on privacy and drunkenness*

Nick: Well hello there, Bright Eyes. You’re making me homesick for my own time. Did...you just get the drop on me? *Swoons internally* Oh my.

Gage: You know, I have been meaning to ask this of a Raider for years now. What the fuck are you all wearing? Seriously, that fellow over there has television antennae in his hair, a literal door knocker for a nose ring, a car grate for a chestplate and a mailskirt made of tab pulls. He’s voluntarily adding shrapnel to any injury he gets. Who taught you folks about protective clothing? Oh, now you’re shooting at me. Brilliant. *opens fire*

Old Longfellow: Wouldn’t be half bad if you could get the smell of fish off him. But you could say that of all Far Harbor. And he sings ancient sea shanties! If you don’t think that’s a plus you’re wrong.

Others

Mayor McDonough: Oh. So. He incited a riot as his inaugural speech that directly led to the murder of several ghouls and the likely deadly exile of several more. He’s suspected of being a synth imposter sent by a horrific organization that’s cheerfully fucking up the Commonwealth for science. He looks the other way when people disappear--if he’s not actively involved. Why is this bush-league Mussolini still alive?

DiMA: Oh my goodness, you’re adorable. Wait, you’re Nick’s twin and involved? *dutifully squashes 8 million impure thoughts* Lovely to meet you!

Father: I thought there was no hell greater than having my son murdered in front of me. But having him kidnapped and turned into the most dangerous sociopath in the Commonwealth would beat it by a long mile.

Arthur Maxson: And if there’s one thing that is more dangerous than a sociopath with superscience, it’s a bigoted fanatic with big fucking guns. Also leave Danse alone you bastard or I’ll headshot you and give him your coat.

Oswald the Outrageous: My goodness. Hard to hate a man who keeps his sense of style and loyalty to his friends when he loses everything else including most of his sanity. I suppose it helps that I do well with a healthy dose of rads...

Shaun: Let’s...just go find your mom. If we can’t, you can stay with me. *all the internal agonized screaming*

[queenofthefullmoon]

An exhaustive list of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin bosses I would or would not date

The Last Giant

Listen… The Last Giant has No Face. I like dating people who have faces. Also, his arms detach and he’s like, at least 10 meters taller than me, so I think that would be a hazard. I think he’s more in need of a friend than a romantic partner. I’d gladly sit down with him and discuss his feelings, but we are not meant to date.

The Pursuer

The Pursuer is great because he’s just so… Rotund. He’s shaped like a friend. Or maybe… More than a friend… He’s got a biggass sword that glows blue, which is great if you need to get up at night to get water or a snack, and a big shield he can use to protect you from the hot Drangleic sun when you’re on a date. You never have to worry about losing him because HE WILL FIND YOU. I think he’s a catch.

Dragonrider

He almost didn’t make it in the list of bosses I would date, but encountering him so often made me have a soft spot for him. Plus he’s a little bit round and I’ve gotta say. Rotundness is where it’s at. He’s fun to fight so I feel like you could have some fun jousts together and then chill… And go, like, I don’t know, ride dragons*? Fun couple activities.

*although dragonrider is his name I’m not sure we saw any dragonrider ride a dragon so this is a shot in the dark

Old Dragonslayer

The Old Dragonslayer has a very sexy armor, I’ll give him that, but he 1. Has a furry mask (a terrible fashion faux pas that I cannot forgive) 2. Is just sitting in the Cathedral of Blue while a DRAGON is outside, unslayed, which says something about the quality of his work. I had to kill the dragon myself, while the Old Dragonslayer was sitting around… Being old, I guess. Not for me.

Flexile Sentry

DISGUSTING AND WRONG.

Ruin Sentinel

The Ruin Sentinels are arguably the sexiest armor bosses in all of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin. Something about these long lads and their eldritch identities and behaviors just tickles me the right way. The shape of their helmets looks a little bit like a turtle which gives them just enough cuteness while not taking away from the fact that I’m absolutely terrified of them and that they are in fact very scary (which is good). They’re also very tall which means they can carry me around and make me feel tall too. Definitely a good thing in a partner.

Belfry Gargoyles

I wouldn’t date the Belfry Gargoyles, but I’d be friends with them. I feel like they’d be fun at a sleepover. Girl’s night! Girl’s night!

Lost Sinner

I’d date the Lost Sinner. It might be a little bit controversial because yes she is a little bit nasty, I’m aware of that, but I think she just needs a little bit of company. I don’t want to change her, I love her right like she is, but if she wants me to teach her how to shower, I might just do it! I am a little bit biased because she’s got a big sword that looks really cool? Perhaps.

Executioner’s Chariot

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Skeleton Lords

I think the Skeleton Lords are neat but I don’t really see myself dating them. Firstly, I’m not a skeleton fucker, so that puts a little bit of distance between us (given that they are in fact skeletons). They also have an army of skeleton children, which I’m just not ready to raise. I’m trying to find a date, not to become a skeleton mom. I feel like we’d be great friends though, I’d probably invite them over so they can practice their standup routine at my house while they leave their 30 skeletons children with the babysitter and we can like drink wine or something.

Covetous Demon

I would not date the Covetous Demon, but I would keep him as a mean dog in my yard to discourage my enemies from entering my property.

Baneful Queen Mytha

I’d be all here for the sniddies if Mytha kept her head on her neck but alas she is headless. 

Smelter Demon

Mh… Yes. He’s big and large and he’s got horns. He could put me up on his shoulder and walk around and I’d be warm up there. Sounds like nothing but a good time.

Old Iron King

Ngghghhh….. I wanna say no but he is Ripped… Absolutely jacked! I’m also a hoe for horns and wings! What can I say. Call me out if I ever make fun of scalies again? (im gonna do that like in a few paragraphs anyway)

Scorpioness Najka

Given the fact that her own fiancé, made miserable by her, asks you to murder her, I don’t think Najka is a fine romantic partner. In addition to that, even though I was here for sniddies, scorpions are scary and gross me out, so no, I would not date Scorpioness Najka.

The Duke’s Dear Freja

She’ll remain dear to the Duke only and she is NOT invited in my yard.

Royal Rat Authority

Wouldn’t date the big rat that makes all of the rules, but similarly to the Covetous Demon, having him on my property to scare people away would be pretty neat.

Prowling Magus and The Congregation

Prowling Magus has a SICK aesthetic I can absolutely get behind (« look at my cool sorcerer boyfriend wearing his goat helmet ») and I’ve stated before I Am a Hoe for horns so we could have something going on.

The Congregation is however BANNED from this house so since they’re probably his buddies that would most likely be a point of tension. Ultimately it might be better for me to keep a platonic relationship with Prowling Magus, as I do not want hollows to crawl on my floor when he invites his friends over.

The Rotten

Oh no lol

Looking Glass Knight

NNNYES absolutely I would date the Looking Glass Knight. He’s not only really cool looking and a Very Dramatic Man (standing in the rain when you meet him… the scenery… the atmosphere… he knows how to make an entrance), but he’d also be a great person to bring with you for a night out.

Exhibit A: he’s really fucking tall and scary which would dissuade anyone from approaching you uninvited

Exhibit B : he carries a FULL BODY mirror around everywhere which means you can fix your hair and/or makeup at any time without needing a shitty pocket mirror or going to the bathroom

Exhibit C : if you need help he can summon a limitless amount of people through his mirror

Just a great partner all around.

Demon of Song

Ohhhhhh noooooo Lord nooooooooooooooo please! Please spare me

Velstadt, the Royal Aegis

Velstadt is very loyal (a real man for following Vendrick all the way to the Undead Crypt) and he’s also very tall, very large, very strong, and very stylish (see the scales cape he wears). I would’ve put him at the top of the date list, but he’s no dating material — he’s husband material. A little downside is that he might put his job before me but I get it. It’s career before everything. I will not limit my husband’s ambitions.

King Vendrick

Vendrick is taken by an eldritch entity and still very much in love with her despite the fact that she destroyed his kingdom and brought the entire civilization down and also caused him to become a war criminal and kill a pacific race of giants all on his own like a big boy so I’m not very interested in him.

Guardian Dragon & Ancient Dragon

I’m putting them together because they essentially boil down to the same thing : I’d offer them a home but I wouldn’t date them. The Guardian Dragon can stay outside and be feral with everyone else that I put in the yard, while the Ancient Dragon can have his own room and like is invited for tea sometimes, but that’s all.

Giant Lord

See Last Giant

Throne Defender & Watcher

I’m a little bit torn on this one because I’m experiencing bisexual panic. We’ve got cool large dude with a beard ; cool slender lady that jumps around everywhere ; they could both beat me up and they both look hot, help me. However, I have to say if I had to pick I’d got with the Throne Watcher because she is hot and looks slightly cooler. I’ve always wanted a very tall wife who could suplex me into the sun, which she could do in a heartbeat.

On the other hand, they do look like a power couple that I’d love to have for dinner and I’d hate to break them up while there are so many fish in the sea and they look so great with each other.

Nashandra

Human Nashandra looks pretty and soft, however anyone who witnessed my first blind playthrough of Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin will tell you that she did not have me fooled and I was very wary of her from the beginning. Anyone who has witnessed my first fight with her looking very skeletal will also tell you that I screamed « WHAT IS THAT » for at least 5 minutes, so that probably gives you an idea of if I’d date her or not.

Also, her weapon of choice is a scythe, which looks cool, but is very unpractical, and just for this fatal mistake, she becomes undatable.

Darklurker

Wings… Four arms = twice the hugs… Cool hood… Yes…

Elana the Squalid Queen

She’s nasty and told me I was undeserving of the mire, which is pretty mean of her. Even if she thinks it, she could at least be nice about it. I would not date her.

Sinh the Slumbering Dragon

Sinh is BANNED from this house because he’s not just feral, he’s RABID and POISONOUS and if I let him live in the yard he could poison my entire property and I do not want that.

Fume Knight

Alas! The Fume Knight looks really cool and has a pretty sexy armor, but tales say that he was infatuated with another woman (whether he met her when she was already an Ashen Idol or not remains a mystery but I’m no one to judge his taste in women). I respect people’s crushes so I will let him be in love with whoever he fancies and they may come over for dinner, as long as they behave.

Aava, Lud and Zallen, the King’s pet

They are very welcome to live in the yard. They may come inside the house, but they are not allowed on the couch.

Burnt Ivory King

No… He loved his wife very much… I’d invite them over for dinner and MAYBE try to seduce one of his knights (they have sexy armors, what can I say).

Aldia, Scholar of the First Sin

Aldia is a weird dude and I wouldn’t feel safe around him. I think he’d probably kidnap me while I’m asleep and go do some experiments on me in his cursed mansion. It’s a no from me chief. Not to mention the fact that he’s a… tree?

Afflicted Graverobber, Ancient Soldier Varg, and Cerah the Old Explorer

I wouldn’t date them, even though their armors are pretty sexy, simply because they seem like a good group of friends and I wouldn’t feel comfortable inserting myself in the group. I think I’d even be too shy to befriend them, but if they wanna come by my house and have a good time, they’re welcome to do so.

Blue Smelter Demon

See Smelter Demon, but with more vigor because this one is blue.

Sir Alonne

Yeah… he’s got the eldritch factor that I like in the Ruin Sentinels while also seeming more human and he’s also a pretty stylish man. I feel like he’s one of the strongest contestants in the game and he wouldn’t mind my long nose, as he’s got one himself. Pretty sexy armor and he is a man of honor. Definitely a yes.