#tax writes

[taxcrimesspeaks]

Xiaoven Week Day IV - Unspoken Words

Morax introduced Xiao to Barbatos when both were young. Venti had yet to take a human form, so he rested in Xiao’s hands, which were still soft and unblemished.

Today, as they rested in Mondstadt, those hands once again cupped Barbatos in them. Venti’s napping form lay across Xiao’s lap, his head pressed into the Yaksha’s shoulder. Xiao gently brushed his thumb against Venti’s cheek and draped a wing over his legs. The archon unconsciously snuggled into Xiao, a near silent trill leaving his lips. Powder snow white wings lay behind him, half folded and half extended.

He looked like the Cecilias he loved so much, delicate and harmless.

But Xiao knew that the opposite was very much true. For as sweet as ‘Venti’ was, Barbatos carried the same kindness with the same amount of venom. After all, he’d created an archipelago by cutting off the tops of mountains and casting them into the sea.

‘Those who dare to call the Anemo Archon weak were foolish mortals, nothing more.’ Xiao concluded with a silent growl. He shook his head and returned his eyes to Venti.

The hands that had fallen into his lap were the same as they were thousands of years ago, when they soothed the minds of dying gods. Fingers, slightly calloused from plucking lyre strings, wrote ballads of heroes and victories to welcome the subjects into the afterlife.

But all of that was Barbatos.

In his lap lay Venti, the supposed ‘Tone Deaf Bard’. The bard who sang and danced amongst the citizens of Mondstadt, the frequent patron of every tavern, a gentle breeze to those who met him. When he shed his heavenly plumage to join his people, he technically never lost their respect. One had to admit that even without the title of the Anemo Archon, Venti carried an air of divinity.

Was it this divinity that made Xiao want to carefully take Venti’s lips against his own? Or perhaps it was the reason for the desire to hold him close, to cage him against his body to keep him safe. Xiao felt his cheeks flush slightly as Venti yawned, blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes.

The archon whines softly, pouting and pulling Xiao into his drowsy arms.

“Stay… I’m cold.” And so he did. He’d stay until Venti decided he could leave.

—————

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[charliejaneanders]

Every single craft has been paying “The Passion Tax” for generations. This term (coined by author and organizational psychologist Adam Grant) — and backed by scientific research — simply states that the more someone is passionate about their work, the more acceptable it is to take advantage of them. In short, loving what we do makes us easy to exploit.

Guest Column: If Writers Lose the Standoff With Studios, It Hurts All Filmmakers

[writerfromthestars]

DPXDC PROMPT : ALFRED IS IMMORTAL

Alright. Don't get me wrong, I love au's where John Constantine is like "soul tax evader supreme", but hear me out.

Alfred.

Alfred, Alfred Pennyworth. Who just doesn't die. The guy's immortal. The reason for this is that Alfred is awesome, so anytime he dies, whether it be from old age or a bullet or a world-wide catastrophe, he looks Death straight in the eyes and tells them that he will die when the day comes that no one needs him anymore, and not a second before, and then he just kinda pops back to life. Because let's face it, the batfam would fall to pieces without him.

So, Alfred Pennyworth has basically just been cheating death for centuries, by this point.

Needless to say, Death is none too pleased. Finally, Death goes to Phantom, the new king, who is much more reasonable than Pariah Dark was and who agrees to actually help.

Clockwork helps Danny set up a portal and he zaps into existence in the middle of a Wayne movie night. The bats are all prepared to fight this mysterious weirdo, but Danny ignores them and turns to Alfred, who he then begins lecturing about ghostly tax evasion and how defying death isn't a good thing, so he needs to file paperwork through the proper channels to stay as an immortal almost-God.

Alfred is chill, he plays cards with Clockwork once when he dies, so he knew this was coming, but the batfamily thinks that this mysterious entity is going to kill Alfred, so they're all panicking, trying to think of ways to avoid this horrible future. Alfred calmly listens to Danny, then he interjects.

"Sir, are you aware of the fact that there is a revenant on earth? One who is most certainly under threat of more paperwork than I, seeing as he has been using the Lazarus Pits to revive himself for millennia. I, however, have only been alive for a few hundred years, so I should think that he is a bigger priority. "

Danny glances over at Jason, doubtful. "He doesn't look several millennia old, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Certainly not, seeing as Master Jason is not. Besides, his Undeath License was filed. I have a copy of it if you need to see it, your Majesty?" Alfred answers, demure as always.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, sir."

Alfred leaves and returns, moments later with a light green glowing piece of paper. he hands it over to Danny, who examines it.

"Seems legitimate. I assume you filed it during one of your many encounters with Death?"

"Indeed. I have it on good authority, however, that the other revenant, a man by the name of Ra's Al Ghul, has not renewed his License in at least the last half millennia, most likely longer."

Danny sighs. "Where can I find him."

"Nanda Parbat. The signature is impossible to miss."

"Alright, Mr. Pennyworth. I will return once he is dealt with, be it by filing his paperwork or returning him to the Infinite Realms."

"Very well. I will be ready." Alfred answers.

Danny opens a portal to the area around Nanda Parbat and then another, which plops him down right in front of the Demon's Head himself, in a strategy meeting with his daughter and several commanders.

They all raise their weapons, but he just basically grabs Ra's by the ear and tugs him through a Lazarus Green portal, lecturing him about tax evasion and paperwork and bureaucracy the whole time. The League is thrown into uproar, and Ra's is set down in a room with all his overdue paperwork from the past few thousand years. He feels a little bit like crying; if he had known immortality meant this much paperwork, he would've just died, honestly.

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, everyone is crying, because they think Alfred is going to die, Jason is confused about the whole revenant Undeath Certificate thing, Bruce is trying to make contingency plans, Tim is contacting the Justice League, and Alfred is planning out his defense and going through every ghostly law loophole he can think of because if he leaves these emotionally constipated crime-fighting vigilantes, he knows that the house that Martha so loved will go up in flames within a month.

Eventually, Danny comes to get Alfred for his ghostly court trial/hearing or whatever, and Alfred says goodbye to Bruce and everyone, goes to the Infinite Realms. Clockwork is on his side, and Alfred ends up winning the court case, on the condition that now that the has an Undeath License, he actually renew it every twenty years, like he's supposed to.

A week later, Alfred returns, crashes his own funeral, and explains that no, he will not be dying anytime soon.

Two weeks after Alfred's return, Constantine shows up at the manor basically begging to learn how the hell he managed to avoid death, and not only that, win a damn court case against them.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Do it for the Plot

~

I like the idea of Tim and Danny meeting and just clocking each other as little shits TM.

Just causing chaos to everyone in a way that can't really be traced back to them like 'Who? Me? I was busy doing all of these other things I have no idea how I would do that?'

Danny helps Tim get revenge on the bats for all the shit he's had to put up with and being absolute trolls about the whole thing *chefs kiss*

~

Tim&Danny dragging Ra's body

Damian: "Wha-?"

T&D: "No one will ever believe you"

Danny makes them go invisible

~

Bats: "Where ya going Tim?"

Tim holding back a cackle:" Oh, it's my anniversary so it's date night!"

Bats: "Anniversary?! We didn't know you were getting serious with someone?"

Tim: "Serious? He's my husband of course I'm serious about him"

Bats: "Wait hold on-!"

Tim: "Gotta go! Can't be late I have to make sure the babysitter has everything they'll need."

Bats: "BABYSITTER!?"

Tim: "Bye bye~!"

(They planned all of it including their 'fake marriage', Danny went back in time with the help of CW who is a troll at heart, and made the legal changes including Dan and Dani as their kids (their de-aged) otherwise someone (Oracle) would have eventually realized that the license is fake. So they went back in time and made it legitimately real)

~

Danny being Ghost King means that Tim is now also royalty

Tim walking up to John Constantine:" I have your entire soul"

and then just turning around and leaving

John very much felt the very strong Death Energy claiming Tim: "I don't want to be sober right now"

~

Earth about to be taken over for the 5th time that year by higher beings

Tim walking up late with coffee in his hand: "Leave or I'll call my husband"

Higher Beings very much not wanting to mess with the High King of the Infinite Realms: ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ

~

The Phantom family relaxing with cucumbers on their eyes and face masks: "Did you hear something?"

The Bats & Everyone else:

~

Just an Idea

[cuubism]

you guys know about the hobby lobby smuggling scandal right

[corsairspade]

there are many reasons I like the "Erestor son of Caranthir" headcanon but secretly the main one is that I'm imagining all of the remaining noldo auditors sighing of relief when Caranthir dies and they don't have to try play 4d chess with multiverse time travel trying to catch this guy doing tax evasion. life is good for exilic auditors now.

and then suddenly Elrond and Elros turn up again! even better! oh who's this, Elrond? your good friend Erestor? he's helping you with your taxes? oh how swe- what is this Elrond. What is this. your paperwork for your taxes you say. not a declaration of war? because it looks like a declaration of war on the exilic auditors, Elrond.

and then all the auditors are so busy doing "extreme tax auditing™" for the first time since the second Kinslaying that they don't tell anyone they're pretty sure there's another scion of the house of Fëanor running around.

[elodee]

*head in hands*

[columboscreens]

[bloodiedrogue]

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.” 

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.” 

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement. 

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.” 

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.” 

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours. 

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.” 

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes. 

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in. 

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath. 

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine. 

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan. 

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.” 

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with. 

“Some people just don’t like looking back.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection. 

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue. 

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels. 

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality. 

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise. 

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other. 

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change. 

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.” 

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure. 

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick. 

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed. 

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck. 

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation. 

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.” 

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you. 

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.” 

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin. 

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” 

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is. 

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you. 

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.” 

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is. 

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!” 

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow. 

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head. 

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.” 

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

Bi Han living with reader hcs

(bullet points and blurbs) THIS WAS FOR AN INBOX ASK BUT I DELETED IT NOOO SHAWTY IM SO SORRY!!! I HOPE DIVINE INTERVENTION SENDS YOU THIS POST TELEPATHICALLY UR A STAR!

-Unless it’s for marriage, you would only move in with him if it was a matter of your safety. 

-Otherwise he would just trust you to manage on your own since if you can handle him you can handle anything in the world 

-Let’s say during a moment of conflict where a large percentage of earthrealm was a risk, he would ask (more like order) you to stay with him with the Lin Kuei. 

-Going to his quarters is like walking into an expensive furniture store and being afraid to get your commoner hands on anything at all. 

-You are left to settle your meagre belongings yourself, with strict instructions not to wander into the training compounds without a guide (read: himself), and though there were the usual lin kuei members patrolling about, you still felt incredibly isolated. 

-But the feeling goes from loneliness to an almost childlike wonder. It eventually leads to you taking a museum tour around the place like DAMN! This is what rich people's shampoo looks like! It’s… not very used… which is a little gross. 

-He comes back from his duties and is surprised when you greet him! Not in a cute way, in the way that you have to dodge tree trunk arms being swung at you like baseball bats. 

-The time you spend together is very mundane. Any energy he has is used on the Lin Kuei, which is understandable and honestly preferable because you get to be around a SLIGHTLY less high-strung bi han

-That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the energy to be insufferably tungsten-like when it came to nighttime

It seemed as though he had long settled his belongings into the intricate bedside drawer. He had yet to answer your question, leaving you to wonder if it had been in bad taste. You nervously tilt your head, trying to get a better view of him. You see Bi Han’s broad back, blocking the blue moonlight in a way reminiscent of Batman standing above Gotham skylines. The thought makes you snicker, a sound that’s soft in theory but almost echoes in the deathly quiet room. It makes his tense shoulders jump to his ears, and you can see his dark eyes dart to the very corners as if trying to get a glimpse of you without physically turning around. He stays perfectly still, like if he just didn’t breathe he could melt into the fabric of the bedsheets. 

The realisation dawns upon you like a humouring punch to the gut. Was he nervous? The big, bad grandmaster of Lin Kuei, nervous to have his partner in his bed? You have to throw yourself to face the other way, hand covering your mouth like it was a hostage situation. Unfortunately, a few stray cackles manage to escape you and this time you hear Bi Han scoff out a ‘is there something funny?’ 

It’s uncharacteristically strained, like a defensive child having to explain their search history. My god, he was really thrown off-kilter by you! The unintentional ego boost goes straight to your head as you readjust yourself, using your elbow to prop yourself up in a position you could only hope came off as comedically seductive. The face you met with is priceless, a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and horror etched onto his sharp features. 

You let out a laugh that sounds more like a chicken squawking, one that’s unfortunately interrupted by a rock-hard grain pillow being hurled at your head. It lands perfectly, because Bi Han only ever does things perfectly, and the speed that you slump onto the bed has him wondering if he accidentally murdered the one person who tolerated him non-professionally. 

He barks out your name, and groans when he hears you laughing from under your potential murder weapon. It’s not as amusing to him as it is for you, seeing as by the time you’ve freed yourself he’s turned his back to you with the air of an unforgiving housewife. No matter how much you grovel and paw at his head and back he refuses to say anything, but you know he’s awake because he flinches whenever you poke his sides. 

Bi Han huffs like a guard dog when you stop pestering him (because common misconception, you did need to sleep as well) and right as you're drifting off to sleep you feel the bed shift, and the pleasant coolness of his body temperature a little closer. 

-He wakes up early in the mornings and I personally do not think this guy eats breakfast but he definitely drinks tea

-He wakes up early in the mornings and I personally do not think this guy eats breakfast but he definitely drinks tea

-You two can share the wonderful joy of standing shoulder to shoulder making your respective morning drinks and judging each other for it

-Bi Han have you considered that you are a cranky bat because you don’t have coffee in the morning 

-Haha. You are so Funny. Have you considered the fact that you are stuck in the bathroom for an hour in the morning because of it.

-Too far Bi han too far

-During his daily duties, like while he watches his little foot goons do their drills he sometimes spaces out and wonders what you are doing back in his quarters. 

-If he sees you walking around the compound, god forbid trying to get your 10k steps in he has to do a triple take, then storms towards you with the intention of an air strike. 

When he sees your familiar mop of head peek through the intricate pillars of the Lin Kuei compound, it’s like an alarm goes off in his head. Thankfully he had been alone, travelling from supervising two training grounds; so he has time to get to you personally. The way your face lights up almost qualms the lecture brewing in his mind, but then he remembers what happened the last time you were left alone with a room of his men (the lin kuei had never been so close to unionising. God fears the scorn of a charismatic woman.) 

“What did I tell you about leaving alone without a guide? I cannot have you wandering aimlessly like a lost child.” It’s a tirade that he’s gone through countless times, and it’s more of a custom than meaning any of the words. You also seem to know, with how you barely raise an eyebrow at his stern words. A cheeky smile carves your cheeks as you stick out an elbow, and even as he continues his rant he subconsciously goes to link your arms together. 

“I have a guide, do I not? And a very handsome one.” You sound collected and suave, but even he can see the way you high-five yourself for thinking of that pick-up line. He wants to frown, but the dopamine he gets from the flattery has him frowning happily, trying to bite back a snort.

-Hes not kicking his feet giggling when he sees you after a day of work… but hes not NOT twirling his hair and shuffling in place

-Gets mad when you don’t run up to him the moment he goes through the door

-Ok diva

[taxcrimesspeaks]

Xiaoven Week Day II - Muse

Soft snores fill the air of Barbatos’ domain, a napping Adeptus the source of the noise. Venti doesn’t mind of course, he’s just happy Xiao feels safe enough around him to sleep. The breeze within the Anemo Archon’s abode is warm and inviting, the sunlight the exact same. It’s a miracle that Venti could stay awake half the time.

Beneath the great tree in which Venti made his home are the two gods. Xiao’s chest rises and falls in a steady, soft rhythm. Venti watches said rhythm, observing the patterns as well as his guardian.

Soft teal and dark blue hair, golden catlike eyes hidden beneath pale and pristine skin. His cheeks and joints carry the slightest pink tinge. And his wings. The jade green and bright gold feathers glow in the light, their shafts reflecting the sun’s rays perfectly. The joints of his wings are covered by feathers that match his hair, speckled with gold.

He is beauty, grace, and deadly precision. Perfection. A falcon compared to the dove that is the common perception of Barbatos.

Venti finds himself catching his breath and averting his eyes, as if afraid of being caught staring. That word comes to the forefront of his mind again, perfection. Why is it that Xiao is his idea of perfection?

Perhaps the soft growl in his voice whenever he scolded Venti for getting himself into trouble? The quiet, fond sighs whenever the god let out drunken giggles and hiccups? His ever lingering presence? His scent, that of mountain flowers and fresh dew?

Venti shakes his head once more, pulling his lyre from thin air. A song. This Adeptus, this god, deserved a song. A song that encapsulates all that Venti observes and ponders.

Oh to know ye, Golden Winged King.

It is the same as knowing all, yet nothing.

Words harsh when they fall from your lips

But yet soft when thou start to slip

And when you fall, Thy will be here

To shelter you, to keep thou near

Though I am under thou guardianship

And then he got stuck. What rhymes with guardianship?

“Strip, grip, maidenship, wing tip… wing tip?” He murmurs aloud, a look of pure concentration upon his countenance. Wing tip.

Though I am under thou guardianship

I do solemnly swear we shall never slip

Beyond the other’s wing tip

There… it was perfect now. Xiao stirs slightly beside him, resting his head on the grass beside Venti’s thigh. The archon giggles softly, running a hand through Xiao’s fluffy hair and sighing contently. He’d found his muse.

—————

Help I still have four days of this to write…

[mashpotatoe]

[maxedes]

someone probably said this before but another one of the very many reasons i‘ll never be normal about brocedes is that nico still supports lewis. like after all this. without a thought he still goes all in for him.

in saudi '22 after he already lost the wdc but nico still had faith about him winning the last race. this year in china when mercedes was still bad he still defended him and every other time he is commentating he wants him to do good. sometimes he is criticizing or offering advice almost but he is never mean about it.

his relationship with lewis going bad, turning into a pretty toxic rivalry (think about the strictly separate garages bc they were worried the other one would sabotage them) was one of the reasons he quit the sport (both weren‘t saints we know that so no one sided blame here).

so it would be so easy to be so petty on the literal international sports broadcast (we know he has no problem being a little sassy), making snide remarks whenever he can, being overall much more of a critic or even having a little schadenfreude when the mercedes stopped being the dominant car. but he doesn‘t do any of that. he still supports him. positive comments, defending him to other commentators and all

-just their whole dynamic is so wild. take any little details away & it would be so much less appealing. the wink after the silverstone interview,the yes, and teammate, the being unable to say each others name for years. all that is just insane

but after all it’s still watching the stars in greece. the war of the silver arrows. everything but a lover, in my heart he‘s still my best friend & nico still suppprts lewis

[minecraftakis]

*+:｡.｡ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ | giyuu bf hcs!! pt.2

a/n: nao lets act like i didn’t disappear BUT ANYWAYS im gonna write some more hcs since this angst i had planned is taking way longer than i expected!! lmk who yall wanna see next or what yall see :3 (pt.1 here!)

pairing: giyuu tomioka x gn!reader

cw: doodoo, kinda short, fluff, sfw!, not proofread, blah blahh

+.˚ · • . ° .*+:.｡✫

- giyuu as a bf! who asks for your hands to play with them, he’s the type to trace the creases on your palm, rub the back of your hand, and thumb at any scars or scratches you have. giyuu enjoys the feeling/or touching of things that soothe him.

- giyuu as a bf! never EVER hides your relationship, he’s private but he’s not secretive. like he’s not the type to be open about it just like thatt so somebody would have to literally ask him if he had a s/o to find out.

- giyuu as a bf! who gets very worried about your safety, especially if you’re in the demon slayer corp. he doesn’t doubt your strength but as someone that he deeply cares for, he wants to know that you are safe and well. this causes alot of issues and conflicts in the beginning of your relationship with him, but you eventually surpass this with time.

- giyuu as a bf! that only on a blue moon do the you and him ever get into disagreements and conflicts. it’s usually miscommunication, or a misunderstanding and a lot of times it’s cause of his pent up emotions that are very unpredictable. a lot of times you guys can talk about whatever’s bothering him or you, but when you can’t he gets really distant, and he usually gives you the silent treatment. he really only does this cause he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret later, but you know that, so you’re not too worried!

- giyuu as a bf! writes and is always writing you poems or letters in his spare time. if you’re off on a mission he’ll send you long letters of anything that’s he’s been doing lately and how he’s waiting for your safe return.

- giyuu as a bf! lobes to cuddle. he is the most cuddle-bug of cuddle-bugs! he likes when you cradle him cause he can hide his face and sniff you, plus you can caress his big head and kiss his forehead. it could be in bed cuddling or just as you sit somewhere buttt he loves your warmth and the pressure of when ur on top of him, he says “dear, come here. get on top of me.” or he’ll just grab you and do it himself.

- giyuu as a bf! doesn’t get jealous a lot, but when he is he gets quiet. not like silent treatment, but he’ll get really questionative and start like interrogating you type… and by then you know he’s jealous so you’re super quick to reassure and comfort him. he’s like he’s like “what were you doing today..?” and then he’s like “who were you with today…?”

- giyuu as a bf! really likes when you play with his hair, he likes when you brush it and he really likes when you style it. you calm him a lot like that.

- giyuu as a bf! thinks that kisses are very special and intimate and he’s very certain with how and when he wants to kiss you. he’s not strict by any means but yk! he likes kissing your cheeks, anything around your neck and he loves kissing your shoulders and like that area. he goes crazy at your nape!! your hands,and your lips. he might be a man of a few words but he does so good at making you feel so very loved.

+.˚ · • . ° .*+:.｡✫

a/n: highkey wanna write some freaky hcs now.. cause i’m in need of it but!! who knows!! lmk what yall think or if yall have some other hcs! >u<

[necroromantics]

Working on something big right now 🔥