#so this is kind of fluff right

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

somewhat satisfied with this... pretty butterfly man...

[kirbykonka]

Gojo the kind of mf to lay on the carpet by the door until you come back

[mamawasatesttube]

i have to speak my truth. i think timkon clone baby aus fucking suck

[alienaiver]

"that's it. i'm removing you from the roster until you've stopped by the doctor."

you look at midoriya in disbelief. unable to keep yourself poised at his final decision, your shoulders slump and the exhaustion washes over you like a wave. he's seen through you.

it's been a year since your near-death experience with an all-too-powerful villain and while shinsou took great care of you during your recovery, something's been off ever since - you haven't been able to put a finger on it, though, so you decided to do what every self-sacrificing hero does: you powered through. until there was no power left to muscle your way out of it. and now it's become visible to others too. you have a feeling shinsou might've ratted you out, but you don't blame him. you'd done the same if it were him.

you get home in a daze and fall face first onto the bed. you don't wake up until you feel the weight shift and the warmth of shinsou's lips touches your cheek. but you don't have the energy to react with more than a hum. your eyelids are so heavy. there's a ringing in your ears but it's so constant that it just feels like a persistent buzz. shinsou says something as he settles behind you, arms wrapping themselves around you. for a while, you think there's silence but he says your name sternly in a voice he only uses when he knows you're not entirely listening to him. huh. you're mostly used to hearing it on the battlefield.

"i'm worried about you."

you sigh and hum, pushing yourself weakly back onto him, "'ve got a doc's appointment..... tomorrow."

he kisses the crown of your head, "okay... okay, good."

he's drawing soft circles into your arm and you drift away again. he wakes you when there's dinner and you perk up again slightly, but not enough to make him stop worrying his lip between his teeth. you fall asleep fifteen minutes into a movie later that night.

you put on your shoes and lock the door behind you, putting the keys in your pocket as you turn for the stairs at the end of the hall. you really wish there'd been an elevator in your building right now. as you walk down the steps, your feet feels heavier but you chalk it up to be your shoes. it's the sneakers you don't wear that often, but it's too cold for sandals today. you shrug it off and just concentrate more on walking.

the doctor goes through your symptoms with you but there's hardly any, you reassure her. you're just so exhausted no matter how many hours you sleep. she warns you that you may be sleeping too much. you agree with a laugh - you don't remember ever sleeping so many hours, having been an insomniac your entire youth. she does some blood tests and sends you home, saying you'll be called in when the answers are back.

the days that pass are all a blur. without your shifts at the agency, time becomes fuzzy around the edges. you don't have to get up, so you just stay in bed, since you've been told you need to rest anyways. on the third day you wake up to several notes on the bedside table, the bathroom mirror and the kitchen counter and fridge from shinsou with various reminders about eating and drinking properly and where he's stocked some snacks and prepped some food for you to reheat easily. you chuckle and shake your head at his antics. you're just tired, is all. the headaches comes with the job, you remind yourself as you try to gently massage out the tension in your neck to relieve your pounding head. he might be right about the water intake - you grab the cold bottle he's put in the fridge for you and brings it with you to the bed.

"i think you should call and ask if they've gotten the answers yet." shinsou says matter-of-factly and you nod, "yeah, it has been a few days. but it's the weekend, right? i'll call on monday." and that ends the conversation.

monday comes but you forget to call, even if you've been determined to do so. by the time you remember, the office is closed for the day. you sigh heavily and fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. you prepare the apology for shinsou on your tongue before you drift off.

tuesday morning your phone rings - several times. you finally reach out and pick up, thinking it's shinsou.

"i do apologize for the wait. the doctor unfortunately had to take some time off last week, but we have your results. will you be able to come in today?"

you agree, dragging yourself up. there's more energy in you today, but it should've been way more given the intense rest you've been having. you put on one of shinsou's hoodies and a pair of sweats before you drag yourself to the kitchen to grab a bite.

turns out, you suffer from anemia. an intense, prolonged form and need medication as soon as possible. shinsou's livid when he comes home and gets the news, angry that it has been missed when the agency periodically keeps an eye on their heroes' health. you sit on the chair with your hands folded like a child being scolded and try to laugh it off, "come on now, hito. i just need to take some medication and i'll be fine. the usual blood tests the past year haven't covered that - even if they should, i know," you hurry to add, "but i'll be fine, i promise."

shinsou sighs and his whole body slumps, leaning against the table you're sitting by. you take his hand, "i'm okay."

he visibly relaxes but there's something he's holding back. you've been together since high school, so you can read him like a book. you squeeze his hand, "open up."

he clicks his tongue with furrowed brows before he opens his mouth, "you've had these symptoms for months. why didn't you tell me?"

you look at the ground, guilt written on your face. mostly, because you don't have a proper answer to give him. you don't know why you didn't - the symptoms had all been sneaking up on you, snaking their way into your body quietly and suddenly it'd just become so chronic that you'd normalized it. you let out an apology and he squeeze your hand back, "it's okay to not have an answer. but please, can we be mindful of things like this in the future?"

you smile at him, "only if you continue to make the little post-it notes. they're adorable - especially your small doodles of dogs."

shinsou hides his face in his hands with a groan, "they were cats."

[sysig]

Font of Inspiration (Patreon)

[eemcintyre]

The Door is Open (Tom Cruise)

TW- Mentions of harassment. Other than that, just pure fluffy goodness with a dash of hurt/comfort to send us off.

Summary- you are a production assistant on the set of a 90s Tom Cruise movie, and he steps in when one of his costars threatens you (**I created a fictional movie and a fictional costar bc I'm not about to slander some random real-life actor for no reason lol**). Additional note: in this universe, he's only been married to Mimi Rogers.

A warm thank you to anyone who takes the time to read; this is just me having fun and taking the serotonin where I can get it

“Cut!” the director exclaimed as the cast finished filming the last of the scenes they had hoped to do before lunch. Just as crew members began to mill around set and the hum of conversation started up, as Tom Cruise ran a hand through his grown-out hair and did a couple of arm and back stretches, Y/N entered the soundstage balancing two cardboard trays full of drinks.

Although the caterer provided general meals and beverages, some of the cast and crew preferred to order drinks from an artisan café down the street. And, as one of the production assistant/PAs on the set of “Gold Rush,” it was Y/N’s job to run down the aforementioned street, to the aforementioned café, to fetch the aforementioned drinks, as well as do essentially any odd small job that anyone ranked higher than her asked her to do. And pretty much everyone was ranked higher than the PAs.

Although the work could be exhausting and she didn’t get a lot of please-s or thank you-s for what she did, Y/N was really enjoying the experience for the most part. She found it really interesting to see what went into all of the different units’ work, from set construction to costuming to lighting (when she wasn’t running for bottles of water or copies of the script, which was a lot of the time), but one thing she had not hoped to learn, at least so early on in her film career, was how slimy some of the actors could be.

While Tom Cruise, despite being the most well-known and successful actor in Hollywood, seemed from her observations to be the image of class and generosity, one of his co-stars, Bill Waters, was… less so. To be completely accurate, Bill Waters was a conceited asshole who faked affability around those he felt could benefit him and was used to getting anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. And one of the things he had recently wanted, and was appalled to have not received, was Y/N. The other day, he had approached her alone outside the soundstage building and forcefully propositioned her, to the point that she had to slap him to escape his hold.

Ever since then, despite her rigorous attempts to avoid him, he had criticized, embarrassed, and overworked her at every chance. A couple of days ago, he yelled at her for taking so long to bring him a dish from a restaurant located across town, and yesterday, he’d purposely spilled the coffee she’d just brought him, just so she would have to get another one.

As she quickly made her way through the room, handing each coffee and tea to its recipient, she tried not to make eye contact with the fast-approaching Bill. When she thrusted the paper cup into his hand, he made a point to stroke her fingers when he took it from her. Y/N glanced up, startled, met with a faint smirk that made her sick to her stomach. She decided not to respond, hoping he would lose interest and go away as she moved on to the next set of people across the room, but he pursued her until he matched her speed-walking pace.

“Hey, this isn’t what I ordered,” he said, putting the cup in her face so that she had to narrowly dodge a passing crew member to not get doused.

“You said that you wanted a caramel brulée latte, and that’s what it is.”

“Oh, I must have forgotten to say that I didn’t want whipped cream. Whoops.” His smirk grew wider and more punchable as she kept failing to out-walk him without attracting attention. “Anyway, I’m not drinking this; you’ll have to run back out so you can get me the right thing.”

“Can’t you just skim it off the top?” Y/N protested, preparing to round a tight corner around a large set piece that several people were transporting, when she felt a searing pain across the front of her torso.

Dazed from the pain and the many eyes that were now on her, it took a moment for Y/N to register that the front of her shirt was splattered with Bill’s rejected coffee. A couple of her acquaintances from the hair and makeup department ran to get her some towels, as everyone else continued to stare.

“What is wrong with you?” Bill gasped, anger coloring his face. After a few moments of stunned silence, another voice chimed in.

“What the hell’s going on?” Tom Cruise appeared, confused, from within the assembled crowd. He sighted Y/N, dripping with coffee, and Bill, red in the face with obvious irritation, and his eyebrows furrowed suspiciously.

“She ran into me and made me spill my drink,” Bill complained, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I saw you throw it at her,” Tom replied sternly. “You threw a hot coffee at Y/N. Why would you do that?” His voice was level and at a calm, low volume, but in his eyes, one could see that he was pissed. Even in the midst of the immense embarrassment, she was surprised and pleased that Tom Cruise, of all people, knew her name.

Y/N’s friends reappeared with handfuls of towels, and as they made their way to help dry her soaked shirt, Tom took one of the towels to hand to her as well.

“Well? What is wrong with you?” he continued to prod Bill. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Bill’s gestures and expressions were becoming more agitated. “She’s the one who can’t figure out how to order the right drinks, or even hold them- I want her fired.”

Y/N paled, feeling even more sick and now slightly dizzy, at the prospect of her film career going down in flames before it could hardly begin.

“Do you think that, just because you’re more famous than she is, that you don’t have to treat her like a person? Is that it?” Tom glared.

“Do you think just because you’re Tom fucking Cruise that you can talk to me that way? Because I won’t stand for it.”

“I won’t stand for that kind of bullshit on my set,” Tom snarled, his temper finally slipping through to the open. “You can be a decent fucking person or you can get out. We’ll find someone else; no one’s irreplaceable.”

“Except you and whoever kisses your ass,” Bill spat, storming out past the crowd.

“You are out of here!” Tom yelled after him, even though he and everyone else knew that he most likely didn’t have the authority to make such a decision, even given his status in the industry.

Taken aback by the scene they had just witnessed, it took a few minutes for the crowd to dissipate. Y/N retreated outside to the parking lot behind the soundstage, dabbing at her stained shirt, her mind reeling with the very real possibility that her time on the “Gold Rush” set was over.

Realizing Tom had followed her out and was gazing at her with concern, she mustered “Mr. Cruise, t-thank you; you didn’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause any problems…”

“Did you throw a hot coffee on him?” Tom asked gently.

“N-no…?”

“Did you just curse everyone out?” The hint of a smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.

“No…”

“Well, unless you start doing that, you have nothing to worry about, as far as I’m concerned.” He paused, studying how she avoided his gaze. “He isn’t any better than you or me.”

They experienced another awkward silence, as no one else was currently in that part of the lot.

“Was that the first time that happened? Because I remember he also spilled his coffee yesterday. Maybe he’s the one who can’t figure out how to hold things.” Tom met Y/N’s surprised look knowingly, and with that, she found herself beginning to lose her composure.

“No, it’s not the first time,” her voice cracked, and she crossed her arms in a self-soothing motion as tears began to fall. “He’s pissed because I wouldn’t sleep with him- oh gosh, Mr. Cruise, I’m so sorry for crying, this is the last thing you need…” She covered her face, utterly mortified to be having a mental breakdown in front of Tom Cruise. She inhaled shakily in an effort to rein it back in. “I’m okay, I’m fine.”

“I want you to take fifteen minutes,” Tom replied softly, reaching for one of her heaving shoulders. “We need to get you a new shirt- I have an extra crew t-shirt from when they were handing them out the other day- and speaking of drinks, have you had anything to drink recently?” Y/N shrugged, not wanting to admit it and seem even more needy. “That’s what I thought,” he shook his head. “You can sit in my trailer where no one will bother you, and then you’ll be ready to get back out there and finish the day on a high note.”

“Mr. Cruise, that’s very nice of you, but I don’t know…”

He realized she might be wary of the idea of his trailer after Bill had made his move on her. “We can keep the door open the whole time. I’ll sit on the opposite side of the trailer,” he grinned, raising his hands in a yielding gesture for emphasis.

“I- I didn’t mean-” she stammered, not wanting to offend another of the cast members.

“It’s alright.” He waved her forward in the direction of his trailer, and she conceded. “Now, we just have to stop this Mr. Cruise business. Y/N, please feel free to call me Tom.”

~

Once they reached his trailer, as promised, Tom left the door open behind them. After rooting through a few boxes and drawers, he located the aforementioned t-shirt.

“It is a men’s medium, and it’s not exactly a fashion statement…” he winced.

“It’ll do just fine; it doesn’t have any coffee on it, and that’s what I’m interested in.” Y/N finally found it in her to smile before quickly getting changed in the small trailer bathroom. She noted the towels, cologne, and other personal items on the sink counter, and it hit her more fully that she was literally in Tom Cruise’s trailer, a place she never could have envisioned visiting.

When she reemerged, she saw Tom leaning against the wall near the opposite end of the trailer, and a bottle of water that had been placed at the table down by her.

“I hope you like that kind; I mentioned I liked it and they sent me a whole case,” Tom chuckled. “Anyway, I can’t finish it all by myself.”

“Thanks.” Y/N slid into one of the bench seats at the table and took a sip. “At least my last day as a PA will end on a good note,” she winced.

“No one is going to fire you,” Tom insisted. “You’re a kind, cheerful person when you’re not getting hot coffee thrown at you, and you’ve got a great work ethic. Both rare things in this industry a lot of the time. You aren’t going anywhere, trust me; you still have a future.”

Y/N took another sip of her water.

“What are you hoping to do in movies? Are you another aspiring actress, or do you want something more niche like makeup, production design, directing?”

“Not sure yet. I’m still trying to see what I like the most. Reading about it and doing it are two very different things, you know.”

Tom nodded, understanding. “You have family nearby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Tennessee.”

“A country girl," he grinned. "What do they think of your career choice?”

“They’re warming up to it.”

“I was lucky, my family was always really supportive.”

“Do you get to see them very often? It seems like you always go, go, go,” Y/N laughed quietly.

“Not as much as I’d like, but… enough,” he nodded again, as if confirming he was satisfied with his own answer.

Y/N suddenly recalled Tom’s recent divorce. Even though he and his ex-wife hadn’t had any children, they had still been together several years, and Y/N was sure it must have been difficult for him. As they were on the topic of family, she made a point not to mention even indirectly anything to do with those matters.

“Well, everyone’s got to take a break once in a while. Maybe after this picture wraps you can spend some time with them.”

“Yeah,” Tom replied, his gaze momentarily drifting into the distance. “But until then, it’s nice to have some company now.”

“I’ll have another mental breakdown just for you, so we can do it again sometime,” Y/N joked, trying to make light of her humiliation. To her relief, Tom laughed in response, diffusing some of her tension. “I should probably be going. They’ll be looking for me once they run out of drinks.” Y/N rose to her feet, grabbing her water and her soiled shirt.

“Well, if you would ever like to drop by again, my door is open- literally.” He gestured to the open trailer door. “And you let me know if Bill ever bothers you again- I’ve learned a lot of fighting moves from working on this movie and I can kick his ass.”

“Okay. I would love to see that,” Y/N replied, making her way to the front of the trailer and toward Tom. “No,” her tone of voice became serious again, “You’ve already done more than I could have asked for.” In the confines of the trailer, she and he came closely face-to-face as she neared the doorway.

“Well, sometimes, all you have to do is ask.” He smiled warmly and they shared an intense moment of eye contact before Y/N shyly looked away. Tom exited the trailer ahead of her, reaching out his hand for her to take from where he stood on the ground, to guide her down the couple of stair steps. “Now, go get ‘em.”

“It’s true, you really are a relentless optimist,” Y/N smiled and shook her head. They waved each other goodbye, and then she headed back in the direction of the soundstage, feeling like she could face the rest of the day again, and maybe even the rest of the production. Even though all of her anxieties didn’t magically go away, she figured that, with Tom Cruise in her corner, she had little to worry about.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Transcendental Teatime Taste Test

(in which Kris has a new flavour tea for Ralsei to try)

You knock on the door a third time, parcel stowed inexpertly behind your shoulder cape. Could he have actually gone out somewhere? But he never went anywhere without you or Susie to accompany him... well, certainly not without You, at any rate.

But you needn't have worried, because a few moments later you hear the latch click and the door creaks open to reveal Ralsei. He is somewhat surprised to see you, but he is also unable to hide the joy in his expression.

'Oh, Kris!' he chirps. 'What... an unexpected surprise! To what do I, um, owe the pleasure of this visit...?'

You say nothing, taking a moment for the prince to stew in the awkward silence. Waiting for him to notice the strange way you're holding one arm behind your back.

It doesn't take him long to put two-and-two together, and his snow-white face darkens a deep red. His smile is shy as he asks you, 'D-do you have s-something back there for... for me, Kris...?'

You consider saying "no", just to see him sqirum a bit more... but you have something you want verifying, something a little more important than pulling petty pranks like that. And so with a flourish of your cape you reveal the neatly-wrapped box, presenting it to Ralsei as though it were a ceremonial weapon. Your theatrics do not go unnoticed... or unappreciated

'Ooh, Kris!' he exclaims, puffing himself up in an attempt to look as princely as possible. 'What gift is this you have brought? Surely a mysterious trinket from far-flung lands, the likes of which no darkner has ever laid eyes upon!'

The caprine boy giggles, somewhat mortified by his own earnestness. He takes the package from you, taking care not to crease the delicate multicoloured paper it's wrapped in. Almost at once his eyes widen, the aroma emanating from the box unmistakable to his quivering nostrils.

'Y-you brought me a... a new tea to try!' Ralsei's eyes sparkle like diamonds beneath his cola-bottle glasses, and he is visibly torn between shredding the packaging into ribbons right there and then, and throwing his arms around you to articulate his joy. 'Th-this is so... I've never... th-thank you so much, Kris!'

His unbridled excitement spooks you a bit, despite the fact that you had actually anticipated this reaction. You calm yourself, remembering that this is just the way that Ralsei is built. It would have been no different had Susie been the one to give it to him.

...well, mostly, you reason.

Perhaps sensing your slight discomfort, the prince composes himself a bit, though his face remains flushed with happiness. 'Ah, sorry about that... it's just I, um... don't really get gifts from anyone, so it... it really means...'

He looks like he's on the verge of tears, but a moment later he realises his error. 'O-oh, I'm sorry! W-we should give this tea a try, shouldn't we, Kris? I can't wait to try it out!'

Neither can you... but not, you suspect, for the same reason as him.

Ralsei ushers you into his room, urging you to sit at a small table laden with the most ornate crockery you have ever seen - even more ostentatious than your mom's Good China. You note the three places set around the table, and that two of the three chairs are already occupied by plush effigies of you and Susie. The stitching on them is well-worn, white stuffing poking through the loose lining. Ralsei gathers them up with one hand, mumbling an embarrassed apology, gesturing for you to sit where the Kris doll had once been.

'I'll j-just prepare the tea, so please, um... be patient a moment. Ok, Kris?' And with that, he zooms away, leaving you to your racing thoughts. The chair is a little small and digs into your back, despite the armour you always wear in the dark world.

Could there be any chance he'd figure it out before you had an opportunity to see his reaction? It didn't seem likely, considering how difficult it was to acquire this particular blend, but... well, Ralsei was pretty good at knowing about things he shouldn't.

Like your name, for instance.

Of course, there was that whole "prophecy" thing, wasn't there? It wasn't entirely unreasonable to suppose that both your and Susie's names were etched upon it somewhere - that was a pretty common thing to happen in prophecies, right? If the stories were anything to go by, anyway.

But you can't completely shake the crawling suspicion that somehow, he just Knows. That all this is a big game and he's just... playing along. Your heart - your actual heart and not the You that wasn't you - thumps an anxious beat against your ribcage. Your palms run clammy with sweat. But surely, there was nothing to worry about, was there? Ralsei was your friend, after all. He liked you.

Well, you'd find out in a moment, wouldn't you?

And then, almost as if on cue, the prince returns, carrying a large tray groaning with every type of cake you could possibly think of - rich red velvet cake, dense and moist carrot cake, fluffy and colourful angel food cake. In its centre sat a large and colourful teapot, its spout blowing a gentle tail of steam through the air behind him. You swallow, force a small smile, do your utmost to present as, and indeed to be, Normal.

'S-sorry that took so long!' he says, setting the tray down between the two of you. 'I, um, might have gotten a little carried away with the cakes, haha. But I figured you wouldn't mind! ...Err, hopefully.'

You shift your glance from Ralsei to the colossal pile of cakes in front of you. Many of them, you now see, are some variation of chocolate flavour. Your stomach rumbles, despite your unease. Perhaps you really were just overreacting. Gingerly, you take a fudgy brownie - it is studded with glossy milk, white and dark chocolate chunks that ooze slightly from the still-warm cake.

'Now how about we try this tea, Kris?' says Ralsei with a sweet smile, proffering the teapot to you. You nod, mouth full of gooey sweet brownie, and he pours out a small cup for you, before seeing to his own. The liquid is a deep dark caramel colour, but you also suspect you can glimpse the occasional flash of deep crimson as the light dances across its surface..

'Ohh, doesn't it smell heavenly?' he continues, lifting his china cup to his nose and inhaling the steam, before giving off a contented sigh. 'Give it a sniff, Kris!'

Curious, you copy Ralsei's gesture. The steam wafting from your cup hits the inside of your nostrils, and you are taken aback by how hot it feels. Once you acclimatise, however, you take a tentative sniff...

...it smells like nothing you have ever experienced before. An aroma that teeters on a fine line between rotten and sweet, like the faintest whiff of fermenting fruit, or of the manure spread over the fields in spring. Not entirely unpleasant... but not what you would call "appetising", either.

'...you know, Kris,' the prince says, peeking over the rim of his cup at you, 'I didn't really, um, have you down as enjoying this... sort of thing.'

You raise an eyebrow. Ralsei gives you a nervous chuckle, an endearing bleat-like noise.

'Well, I suppose I don't... I don't really... know you all that well, do I? F-for all I know, you could actually really like... this. Am... am I making any sense, or...?'

You don't respond right away. Thankfully, you aren't required to give an answer, because a moment later, You nod. His shoulders sag a little, and a small smile spreads across his face again.

'O-okay... that's good, haha,' he says. 'I... I was worried that you were just... just humouring me, I suppose. N-not that it would matter if you were, or are! It's nice just being here with you, Kris.'

A paw reaches out across the table, alabaster fur gently tickling your fingers. His smile widens, his eyes go soft... and then he seems to realise what he's doing, and sharply withdraws his hand, almost as though you'd burnt him. There's a slight stab of rejection close to your heart - it's not clear which of You the feeling originates from. Perhaps both.

'A-anyway-!' says Ralsei, tucking his offending paw into his robe and turning his face away slightly. 'Wh-wh-why don't we t-try some of this lovely tea you've brought for us? If it tastes anywhere near as g-good as it smells, then I think we might be in for a real treat...!'

You nod enthusiastically, grateful for a distraction from the awkwardness. You waste no time and take a long, slow sip from your teacup, bracing for something truly stomach-churning...

...but that's not what you taste. You were expecting something like spoilt milk, or toast so burnt it's unbearably bitter, but instead all you can identify is... chalk. Not awful, but not pleasant. It seems to coat your mouth and throat as you swallow, and you're reminded of the milk of magnesia your mother used to make you drink when you had an upset stomach.

You're almost disappointed at how bland it tastes. You were expecting something a bit more than this... whatever it is.

(HP + 10)

'Well?' asks Ralsei. 'H-how is it, Kris...?'

You make a show of thinking about it. Take another sip to add to the effect - strangely, the chalky flavour is starting to grow on you. You worry a little about what that implies.

'Yeah it's pretty good,' you're able to say; it's always a slight shock when You're permitted to speak. You wait a moment to see if more words are forthcoming, and when they are not, you gesture the prince to follow your example.

Finally. Now you'll be able to see which You he thinks he's talking to. Your breath catches a little in your throat as he raises the cup daintily to his lips, as the first drop of manna falls onto his tongue.

You wait as he takes a sip. And then another. And still another. With each gulp, he tips the cup further and further, until you wonder how he could possibly hold it like that without drenching himself with hot tea. And still he is not done. In fact, he fully upends the cup, draining it to its very last dregs.

'...oh,' the prince says, setting the china back down upon his saucer. You note the trancelike glaze in his eyes, the cogs whirring in his fluffy head as he struggles to quantify and comprehend what it is he has just experienced.

'Oh,' he says again, voice lower this time. 'Ohhh.'

You'd ask Ralsei if he was alright, if you were capable. But you don't need to. You know exactly what's happening. It's exactly as you'd always suspected.

'This... K-Kris, this is...!'

He is unable to finish the sentence before he is pouring himself a second serving of tea, china rattling as he picks it up and downs it all in one go. A third cup is poured, which joins the others in the pit of Ralsei's stomach. And you watch it all unfold, expression flat, inscrutable.

'...still can't...' the prince breathes, smacking his lips together. 'It's... it's like nothing I've ever tasted before...! The... the sweetest sugar would taste like bitter salt next to this... the richest cake, as bland as tofu! It's... the closest thing to... to heaven I've ever...!'

(HP + 451)

He is enraptured, seeming to forget you are there entirely. You can't even imagine how anything could possibly taste so good - not even your mother's posh chocolates could elicit that kind of a reaction from you. It's a little uncomfortable to watch, and not just because of the implications.

After a little while, however, he starts to come back to earth. Ralsei blinks, apparently mortified that you witnessed him losing control like that. He takes off his glasses to polish them, and you note that his eyes still have that slight faraway look to them.

'O-oh, I'm sorry, Kris,' he mumbles into his scarf. 'That was rather, err... unbecoming of me, wasn't it...? B-but that tea really was so... um, th-thank you for bringing it to me!'

Slowly, you nod. His gaze slides off of you, as if he is ashamed of what he had just done - yet still, he cannot seem to help looking pointedly at your half-full teacup. You pretend you don't notice, and he doesn't make anything of it. And so the minutes pass awkwardly by until it is time to go.

'Oh no, don't worry about that!' he says hurriedly as you offer to help tidy everything away. 'I've... e-everything's under control here! A-and I enjoy tidying up, anyway!'

As if to demonstrate his enthusiasm, he sweeps everything up onto the tray and hoists it into the air with both hands before you can object. As he whisks all the plates and cups back where they belong, you think you spot him surreptitiously sip from the cup you drank from - desperate for one final taste of godly manna. You wait patiently for him to finish, and then stand up to go, stowing away another delectable brownie for later.

Ralsei walks you to the door. 'It was lovely to see you again, Kris! And, um... thank you again for the wonderful gift.'

He seems to look through you as he says this. You'd seen that look before, but now it holds much more significance as you realise - Ralsei has literally been looking through you the entire time. Through to the You residing in your very SOUL. The You that no-one else could see.

As you say your goodbyes and leave the darkness behind, you start to wonder if this had been such a good idea. If maybe you should have just left things as they were. If maybe, it would have been easier - better, even - not to know about these things.

You might have at least been able yourself into thinking that any of it was for you in the first place.

---

The alleyway was deserted when you arrived. No-one came this way unless they absolutely had to, and with good reason; a terrifying host of unearthly creatures made their home in this place - beings that could offer the curious and the credulous deals to attain their heart's desire. But all transactions were made at the purchaser's own risk.

The figure you were after resided at the very back of this hellish locale. As you passed by several dilapidated stalls, voices whispered to you, as insubstantial as cobwebs in the darkness, imploring you to browse the various goods and services they could provide. More than once, you were forced to turn down something referred to only as a "Single Sneaker" - a cursed trinket of unfathomable origin, no doubt.

A lone creature sat at a small table, upon which rested an item that looked very much like an ordinary household kettle. The demented runes scrawled underneath this shabby display told of its power: "FLAVORED TEAS MADE HERE".

The figure noticed you approach, springing to life like a motion-sensing anamatronic. Its angular nose and rictus grin unsettled you - though you couldn't quite understand why.

'Care for a sample?' the Addison spoke, its voice dry from lack of use. 'Teas specially made bespoke, tailored to YOUR unique flavour profile!'

You did not respond, but stopped directly in front of them.

'Just you today, Sir and/or Madam?' they laughed, nerves showing.

You swivelled your head from left to right, sweeping the alleyway for signs of anyone there aside from the two of you. It didn't hurt to be absolutely sure - you didn't want any more people knowing about this than was absolutely necessary.

Then, very slowly, you nod.

'Great! Then I'll just-'

The Addison had no time to continue their sentence, before you raised an arm into the air, clenching and unclenching your hand in preparation for what had to be done next.

Your screams were silent as you struggled against Yourself - a well-rehearsed mime show of internal pain and anguish. The darkner's eyes widened in mute terror, their smile frozen in place. They could not look away as you gripped hold of something lodged deep within yourself, yanking at it once, twice, thrice...

And with a sickening wrench, it came free: a heart-shaped object, the colour of blood, pulsed weakly in your hands. It was You. It was not you. Both and neither of these things were true at the same time.

You proffered the SOUL to the quivering Addison, gesturing with your free hand towards the kettle. Somehow, they understood what was required, and set to work brewing a tea. Satisfied, you returned the object back where it belonged, and waited patiently as if nothing interesting had happened.

The resulting liquid shimmered uncannily in the faint darklight, shivering as if possessing a life of its own. Wordlessly, the salesperson decanted the tea into a canister, wrapped it up in gift paper, and handed it to you with trembling fingers.

It felt lighter than you thought it would be. Almost insubstantial - as if it didn't have a physical presence. You spotted a small tag tied to the gift bag, with a single word scrawled upon it:

SOUL.

You tore it off and discarded it. No need for him to know what this was. Now you would know for certain, just what he actually thought of You.

[averlym]

,,, little lemmings in line...

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Pokémon said bisexual rights 🫵✨✨✨

[coyoxxtl]

the funniest part about spin off shows based on cartoons from when the target audience were children is seeing the reaction of the adults who haven’t grown up yet get mad at it over the most insane reasons

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Random au because I can't stop thinking about this:

On the doc Mike and Pac found in the prison said that if Walter Bob completed that specific task he would be free from the jail/no longer a prisoner, right? (MY memory isn't the best so maybe this is a bit wrong but that is what we have for today folks augstwfwywfrqcw)

So

What if one day he finishes the task and Cucorucho with a smile brings him to another federation building and asks him to get into a room

So

Days later Fit is asked to clean a room, no big deal, another day of honest work where he starts lurking around looking for anything that could be useful for him and his mission

And then, in another place that he isn't suppose to be, but that he got into anyway is a... something. In the corner. It's small, it's scared, maybe even trembling a little bit and tired, very tired.

It's an egg.

When he enters, it turns around to face him and Fit freezes for a second because now he can clearly read the name on top of the kid.

"Walter Bob"

Well, he isn't coming out of that building alone.

Also! For fluff purposes! Imagine he bringing him to show Pac and Mike, like, Walter Bob doesn't have the memories of Before but he can't help but feel at ease around those "strangers" and their vibrant, lively energy, especially because they seem to like be around him as well, always full of hugs and itens and new places to show around.

Ramon being a good older brother! Showing him how to explode things and being perfect to bring his more quiet and chaotic side.

The fact that before he couldn’t remember ever having a bed just the cold metal of the cell and the guards shouting and pain and experiments and cold cold cold

But now it's different! Now he has a family, people from everywhere smiling and talking to him and helping and saying strange, kind things like that their house is his as well and that if he ever ever need he could call

And then Forever reforms the NINHO to have another room and Bad calls him to chat while making his buildings and Baghera gives him a bunch of invisible potions so they can hang around listening to gossips and Philza is always chill in letting him visit and Foolish laugh and goof around like nothing could ever go wrong everytime he gets too anxious and Mike and Pac are there and...

And Richas gives him beautiful paintings to put in his room and Dapper show him all his cool animal collection and Leo take him to a train ride and Tallulah helps him to decorate his room and...

And and and

(And the hope is there, it hurts too much to bare sometimes, like it's a knife that already cut him before.

But little by little, with time, the wounds begins to heal)

[ohitslen]

What if I draw happy Vashwood for a change, any ideas?

[quinn-pop]

Mayta Knight 14-16

14 - Fancy

this came out awkward but see. kirby’s imitating dedede. mk’s surprised to realize he’s been thought of (“what do you mean people care about my feelings lol”)

15 - Wings

had no ideas for this but i really like using wings as body language and all that so. wing hug it is

16 - Desserts

[dirty-trash-mongrel]

I don't hate or get annoyed by BiscuitBites/Nuzi as a ship, I just don't care much for most ships in general (besides PinkLemonade/Vizzy because personally I think their dynamic is really cute ok??) And I'm not irritated that Nuzi is becoming canon like a lot of people are complaining about, Murder Drones is not becoming a shipping-focused show because of this, this episode had probably the most horror and emotional scenes by far... I'm happy shipping wars will be over and I'm happy that people are voicing out their happiness that the ship is canon! Yippee! People are happy, everything is good, and I'm not irritated by that! What I do find irritating about some Nuzi shippers is that I'll have actual tears running down my face from reading a V memoriam post and then scroll down to see some people saying that they "didn't care V died that much and that they're glad that V is dead to completely set in stone Nuzi as a ship". Most of the main cast of characters were comfort characters for me and this is a shot in the heart because I loved V as a character. Even though I was kind of emotionally hurt by the last scene, I really do think a sacrifice was a good call by Liam. That won't stop me from being sad however. But PLEASE, I don't want to see people complaining about how everyone's upset over V's death and not putting enough focus on Nuzi confirmation (which both statements are super untrue, both get a respective amount of attention) Like I understand why some people wouldn't be super upset about the (presumably) V death, you can voice your own opinion and not be too emotionally affected by the death and I'm not judging you for that, but when I see people get to the point where they're judging and kind of shaming people for getting stressed or anxious or generally upset at a character death? It kind of kills me. Please stop beatboxing I'm crying on the floor Though a lot of Nuzi shippers I see aren't like this and I'm so happy about that, it's super nice to see that!!!! I've seen some of the most amazing works of this community come from Nuzi people and I still respect them so much because they're still people and part of this fandom even though I don't directly care much for the ship itself anymore, I'm not judging anyone based on their favorite robot pairings (UNLESS YOU'RE LIKE. A PROSHIPPER. ICK. OFF WITH YOU.) :)

[nach0]

WJAT A CUTE ENDING AHHHHHH

GUYS. GUYS THEYRE A FAMILYYYYYYY

[bieddiediaz]

wip wednesday

tagged by the loml @tawaifeddiediaz ages ago but im finally writing again so

Buck comes into awareness slowly.

The first thing he registers is warmth - in the air, under him, around him. He hazily realises there’s sun streaming in from the loft windows and he’s nestled in a sea of blankets in his bed, and there’s something soft and warm pressed up against him.

The second thing he notices is the rise and fall of the bare chest under his arm, the hair tickling his nose every time he takes a breath. There’s an arm trapped beneath him, wrapped around him, holding him close. Buck feels like he could melt and fuse himself to the warmth and stay there forever.

He drifts for a bit in the hazy space between sleep and wakening. There’s something nagging at the back of his mind, something he should be doing, but nothing feels important enough to leave the comfort and security he feels right now. He ignores the feeling and buries himself deeper, tightening his arm and turning his face further into the pillows.

Unfortunately, the movement causes the body beneath him to stir. Buck grumbles in protest when the arm around him shifts, creating space between them as a face turns towards him and brown eyes blink at him sleepily.

tagging @oneawkwardcookie @nymika-arts @captain-hen @dearestdiaz