#the wine was also poisoned (neutral)

[scribeofmorpheus]

today was such a draining day at work, I am about to re-open the wine bottle I forgot to finish off while on holiday 3 weeks ago--I am attempting to consume the uber fermented, fermented fruit juice.

[escapismbook]

ESCAPISM CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Chapter Sixteen | Older

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

→ AU/Genre(s): dark romance, smut, mature, mafia

→ Trope: professor-student, forbidden romance, sin-evil, passion, slow-burn.

→ Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.)

→ Word count: 5.7k

→ warnings + triggers: explicit smut, Strong language, Explicit scenes, Crime Elements, Obsession, Possessive, Protective Love, Emotional.

→ Dedication: Reaches out to cup your cheek, "now be a good girl for me."

→ Author’s note: Escapism is a dark romance—intense, poetic, and deeply atmospheric. It explores desire, deception, and the pull of the forbidden.

This story is also written by two authors. Both working on the two couple. Please read with caution. For those who stay, welcome to a world where love and darkness intertwine.

→ Small note: when you see this font it means they are speaking Korean.

The early summer sun had not yet burned the haze from the hills of Yongin. A strange quiet hung over the land, thick with the scent of pine and freshly overturned soil. Outside the hotel’s wide glass façade, black sedans sat idle like well-dressed shadows. The estate tours were to begin shortly, as they did every few years—a tradition kept among Korea’s most powerful families. Men of old names, buried scandals, and the kind of wealth that did not glitter but whispered.

Inside the hotel’s marble-clad lobby, Min Yoongi stood near the paneled wall, white dress shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned, and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. The others beside him were mostly older, and some his age. The older ones bloated from wine and quiet power, others lean and sharp, with eyes that had seen both boardroom betrayals and blood spilled beneath moonlight. They spoke softly, if at all, the air around them laced with cigar smoke and the weight of legacy.

This was no ordinary gathering. Today, they would tour acres of lands and other buildings that were ready to be bought and sold under names that rarely made the news, but always held sway—secluded acres that would become the future of South Korea. And this year, it was Min Hyun who hosted the tour. And when Min Hyun hosted, no man declined.

Aalia stepped forward from the elevator with her father beside her—her presence a quiet defiance. The only woman. And worse, young. She had not been brought here to decorate the space, nor to listen from behind glass. Her father, Eunwoo Hong, had insisted she come. “Your eye is sharper than most of them combined,” he had told her a few days ago.

Aalia’s dress moved with her as she stepped out of the elevator like it had been born of the sea—threads of blue and silver stitched into blooms so delicate they might’ve withered if looked at too long. It clung to her as if the fabric knew what it was guarding—soft and dangerous, like mercy laced in poison. The hem caught the light like saltwater catching dawn, and when she walked, it was as though the air bent to her, stilled by something it could not name.

And the judgment came not with words, but with the way the men stiffened, how their mouths set just slightly too firm. They didn’t scoff. They simply looked—as if watching something out of place walk into a sacred chamber. This was measured disapproval that came from decades of tradition as if asking silently: Why bring a woman – a young woman  to a battlefield built for men?

And still, she walked. They slightly bowed, the barest acknowledgments, rendered less out of respect and more out of necessity. Only because she bore the name, Hong. Because her father stood beside her. 

Despite the disapproving looks and the cold atmosphere, Yoongi noticed how unbothered Aalia was, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her composure. He watched as she stand off to the side a step away from her father, her expression neutral as she wait for the moment to head out. 

"Is everybody ready?" Yoongi's father asked.

The men filed out through the wide glass doors in silence, their movements deliberate, their footsteps swallowed by the thick hush of morning. Drivers opened car doors in synchronized motion, their gloved hands expressionless. The gleaming black sedans were not merely vehicles—they were processions. 

Aalia followed her father without a word. The heels of her shoes struck the marble with quiet finality as they moved toward the waiting cars. Eunwoo Hong gestured for her to enter first before he followed, and the door closed behind them with an expensive thud. 

The journey was not long. Pine trees passed by like silent sentinels, their tall frames casting shadows onto the winding road that curved through private hillsides and centuries of history. The land here belonged to old names that did not announce themselves but were spoken behind doors that never opened for outsiders.

Then, as they crested a bend and the estate grounds came into view—endless acreage veiled in mist and sun. The convoy of vehicles spilled open like a procession. One by one, the men emerged, solemn and unhurried. The air smelled of wet soil, pine needles, and stone warmed faintly by the sun.

Eunwoo father finally turned to Aalia. “Observe everything,” he said quietly, as if instructing a soldier. She gave him a small nod and with that, her father joined the rest of the group.

She followed behind, just a few steps  away, as the group gathered toward the foot of the estate’s path. The stone steps ahead led toward ancestral lands—plots of green and gold that had never been touched by public hands. 

Aalia walked behind the group of men, her steps measured. The chatter of the men ahead drifted like distant static, lost in the rustle of wind brushing through pine branches. Yoongi fell into step beside her without a word. The distance he kept from the others was deliberate, as was his presence now at her side. She didn’t turn to look at him, but she felt the gravity of his attention.

“They’re old-minded,” his voice was low, as though confiding a secret. “And not used to having women at gatherings like this.” There was no mockery in his tone, only quiet disdain for the tradition itself. There was an undertone of protectiveness that settled into the air between them. “Don’t be intimidated by these men.” His gaze flicked toward her, soft and assessing.

She glanced at him, lips curling faintly in the corner. A small nod. The smallest smile. “D’you think they’ll be curious to know why you’re walking with me?” she whispered, her voice laced with quiet mischief. 

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards into a small smile. “I’m just making you feel welcomed,” he feigned innocence.

“Mmm.” Aalia nodded slowly, her tone dripping with mock agreement. “Right. Of course. Friendly.”

“Exactly,” he replied, matching her playful colours. He glanced ahead and then back at her, lowering his voice further. “And it’s also an excuse to be close to you.”

She let out a soft laugh. Her eyes narrowed with playful suspicion as she looked at him, a single brow rising in a way that told him she saw straight through the game he played. But she didn’t call him out—she let him sit with it. The moment stretched, slow and sweet. He watched her like a man watching the sun tilt through stained glass. He was in awe. Truly. There was something sacred in the way she moved, the way she deflected tension with a look and a breath. And Yoongi—who had stood in rooms with men who ruled cities—felt himself crumble just a little more each time in her presence.

“But seriously, darling,” he murmured, and this time, the teasing fell away. “Don’t let these geezers get to you. You’re much smarter than all of them combined.”

Aalia’s lips curved gently at his words. Yoongi stilled. His breath caught faintly in his chest, and he could feel the warmth of that smile blooming beneath his skin like slow fire beneath ice. It didn’t matter how many rooms he’d walked into with killers and kings—this was what disarmed him. Her. Her smile, her serenity in defiance, the way she stood among the ancient, faceless men and held her ground with grace no one could teach. He would have lingered in that moment longer—anchored to the sacred stillness of it—if not for the sudden ripple in the air that shifted his attention.

Kang Lee.

He walked toward them as though the gravel itself parted for his steps, clad in a tailored suit. His expression was full of curated charm, the kind of expensive cologne. He stretched out his hand with the easy arrogance of a man who thought he belonged everywhere he entered. “Yoongi!” he greeted with the practiced affection of an old friend.

Yoongi’s expression did not falter, but something behind his eyes flickere. His jaw tensed for half a breath. God, or whoever is up there, give me patience, he thought, slipping a polite smile over his mouth like a mask tailored in hell. “Lee,” he replied, shaking the offered hand with a grip just tight enough.

Lee turned to Aalia then, and Yoongi could feel it before he saw it—the shift in Lee’s posture, the hunger tucked just beneath the civility. “Aalia,” he smiled, too smooth. “Unexpected to see you here.”

“I thought you were in Dubai?” 

“I was,” he nodded, lifting his shoulders with false modesty. “But I had to come early. The family business needed me here.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly because he finally saw it upclose. The way Lee looked at her. Really looked at her. Not as a man looks at a woman, but as one surveys a prize yet to be claimed. His gaze roamed her figure with indulgent entitlement, lingering on the curve of her waist, the slope of her collarbone—like he was trying to memorize what was not his.

And the blood in Min Yoongi’s veins went still. He forced his right hand into his pocket, fingers curling tight into his palm. The smooth material lining of his trousers could not mask the tension that rippled through his arm like a restrained storm. His breath slowed, but not from calm. No, it was the kind of control a man learned in temples—in rooms where violence was forbidden but never far. He did not move. He did not speak. But had the sky cracked open and swallowed Lee whole, Yoongi might’ve thanked God or whoever was up there for the favor.

Lee turned back to him then, as if nothing. “How have you been?” he asked, too familiar. Too comfortable. 

Yoongi offered him a nod, his tone level and low. “Busy. But fine.” He paused, then added with feigned politeness, “How was Dubai?”

Lee launched into a description of his trip, and Yoongi listened, or appeared to. But his mind wasn’t in Dubai. It was tethered to Aalia, who stood beside him, unaware of the war waged in silence for her honor. He stared at Lee’s mouth as it moved, not because he cared for the words, but because he was imagining what it would feel like to break his jaw.

A call rang out—“Lee!”—from across the gravel path. A group of men waved him over, and Lee’s eyes flicked to them, mildly reluctant, as if he’d hoped to linger longer with Aalia and Yoongi. With a final glance at Aalia, he excused himself and walked toward the others.

And the tour began. Aalia trailed behind the cluster of men, silent, eyes sharp. She noted how decisions were not spoken aloud but exchanged through quiet gestures—a narrowing of eyes, the flick of a pen, the shift of a shoulder. This was inheritance masquerading as business.Some bought, land tucked into valleys, glass buildings that touched the sky, whole districts that would be reborn under their family names. Others sold off pieces of old empires in exchange for leverage elsewhere. There were new partnerships drawn in silence, older ones buried with the turning of a page.

Eunwoo Hong walked with the quiet confidence of a man who understood power as stewardship, not display. He said little, only offering Aalia a glance now and then—not for approval, but in acknowledgement. He trusted her. Not like a daughter to be shielded, but like a soldier trained in his image. Where others brought their sons, he brought her. And she did not falter. She moved slow, eyes flicking over terrain and ledgers with a sharpness honed over years. She was not ornamental here. She was instrumental.

Yoongi watched from a distance, lingering near another group of executives who surveyed a parcel near the lakebed. But his attention never strayed far from her. Even when speaking, even when nodding to offers and inspecting paperwork, he kept her in his line of sight. He could see the tilt of her head when she listened. She had not spoken yet since the tour began. She wasn’t rushing to prove herself. 

Then, Yoongi shifted, trying to get a clearer view of her, but Lee kept getting in the way. And this time, he was standing too close for Yoongi’s liking. His frame blocked Yoongi’s line of sight, not entirely—but enough. Lee hovered near Aalia like a shadow convinced of its own importance. His arm would brush hers under the guise of crowded space, his gaze tracking her like a man making mental inventory of things he assumed would one day belong to him.

“You look ravishing today,” Lee murmured beside her, a touch too close. “Even the land seems to bow to you.”

Yoongi heard it. And for a second, the world narrowed to a single heartbeat—his own, pounding against restraint. 

A few momenents later he stilled as he watched them move further away. The air in his chest flattened, and he adjusted his stance ever so slightly. A turn of the shoulder. A lift of the chin. It gave him just enough visibility to catch Lee leaning in. The bastard's lips moved near Aalia’s ear, saying something he couldn’t hear—but he saw her go still.

Lee's voice were like a snake’s lull. “You know,” he murmured, “you should be kinder to me. I am to be your husband, Aalia.” There was no one to hear it, only the pines bore silent witness to the whisper.

But Yoongi saw the lean of his body. The curve of proximity that no business demanded. And that was enough. He clenched his jaw as his tongue pressed flat against the back of his teeth. Rage didn't rise—it descended. It settled in his chest like a lion in velvet chains, pacing. Right, whoever is up there, give me a reason not to bury this bastard where he stands, he thought. 

Aalia turned her head slowly toward Lee, and she smirked softly. But there was no sweetness in it. It was a gesture of disgust dressed as charm. Lee, oblivious, mistook it for something else. He saw her lips, not the meaning behind them. He believed himself desired. Chosen. He had no idea. He had no idea that she had already given herself to another. That she had been ruined in the arms of the man now watching them from afar. Lee, for all his entitlement, thought he would be her first. He didn’t know that he was already late to a war that had been won.

Yoongi stood in the distance, watching, his gaze resting not on Lee, but on Aalia. His Aalia. And his heart—fuck, his heart burned like envy. Not with fear. But with the ache of possession. With the need to tear down cities for her silence. With the desperation to be the only man who would ever know what she looked like when she fell apart.

They arrived at the final location just as the sun began to set behind the mountains. The convoy of black sedans came to a smooth halt along the gravel path, tires crunching softly beneath them. The air had thinned the higher they climbed, now crisp and faintly sweet with pine and river mist. Before them stretched a vast estate nestled into the hills like a secret kept safe by the mountain itself. A sweeping view opened in every direction, painted in dusk tones of violet and gold, where the earth rolled downward into valleys stitched with riverlight and a forest. It looked like something Heaven had forgotten to take back.

Yoongi’s father took a few steps forward, hands behind his back. “And lastly, this is our final stop,” he said. “And a very promising location—”

“Of course it is,” Aalia said softly under her breath, but the silence in that moment made her words carry farther than she intended. 

One by one, each man looked at her as if a porcelain doll had learned to speak. Their gazes were amused, some barely veiling disapproval. As if her voice disrupted the natural order, like speaking among them was something she hadn’t yet earned, and had no idea what she was talking about.

Yoongi felt a twitch of something he tried to contain. Pride bloomed in his chest like a secret only he was allowed to keep. 

Lee chuckled beside her, too loud, too theatrical. “How are you so sure?” he said with a grin, trying to lace it with humor. 

Aalia laughed. It was mockery. She patted his shoulder with a softness that bordered on dismissive. “Because it’s located in the mountains,” she said coolly. “The elevation gives a clear view of every direction. There’s a riverside, and a forest to the north. People would come here for getaways.” Her words were gentle. But they struck like a blade dipped in perfume.

The men stilled. Even the wind seemed to pause. Her father, standing just behind her, gave the faintest nod, his expression unreadable save for the pride that flickered, restrained but radiant, in his eyes. 

And Min Hyun turned turned to Yoongi with a small, knowing smirk curling at the corner of his lips. A glint of mischief shone in his otherwise unreadable expression, one he rarely wore unless something genuinely pleased him. He had always liked Aalia. She reminded him of his own wife in her youth—clever, poised, always underestimated. But more than that, he had once imagined her beside his son. He’d always believed a Min-Hong union would solidify everything.

“She’s right,” He chuckled, turning to Aalia with genuine amusement. “This makes it the perfect location for a resort or hotel. You have bright knowledge, Aalia.”

“I have my lecturer to thank for that,” Aalia replied, her eyes flickering only for a breath of a second to Yoongi.

The world kept moving, but for Yoongi, time slowed. That one brief glance. She was thanking him. And Hyun saw it and he smirked again, this time to himself.

The night had fallen over Yongin like velvet—black and thick, the air still warm despite the hour. After the estate tour concluded, they had gathered for a private dinner. Aalia had said little. Yoongi had said even less. And soon, they all retreated to the hotel.

Aalia had showered, washing off the day's dust and men’s gazes from her skin. She slipped into something softer than the blue dress from earlier to a pastle pink summer dress before she wandered to the bar out of restlessness, ordering herself a pomegranate juice over crushed ice. 

After a while she turned back toward the elevators and just as they were about to close, Yoongi stepped in. He took the wall opposite her, leaned back into it like a shadow. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, and his jaw tightened at the sight of her. He didn’t look at her. No, he watched her. The kind of watching that made you forget how to breathe. His gaze traced every inch of her face, her collarbone, the small damp curl at the nape of her neck. But it wasn’t lust that consumed him now. There was a slow-burning concealed rage inside that made his posture too still and his silence too loud.

The image of Lee from earlier haunted him. How he leaned into her side like he belonged there. Yoongi’s jaw tensed again, the muscle there ticking once. Aalia let her head fall against the mirrored wall behind her and let out a short laugh. “Wow,” she sounded amused. “Someone is angry.”

He ignored her laughter entirely, his expression carved from restraint. But inside, he was seething. Not at her, but at the world she was caught in. At the way Lee spoke to what wasn’t his. At the way her father paraded her like an heirloom passed between bloodlines. The thought of her beside Lee, his voice in her ear made Yoongi feel something ancient and vile awaken in him. 

The elevator chimed. The doors opened. And Yoongi moved. He didn’t give her time to speak as his hand wrapped around her wrist with quiet possession. He led her down the quiet hallway of polished floors until he reached his door. He pulled his card out from his pocket and raised it to the scanner. He pulled her inside and shut the door behind them with a thud.

He walked them both into the living room, and then he finally let her go.

He stood there, his breath shallow and his eyes didn’t leave her. The soft glow of the lamp cast long shadows across his face, his figure framed like a painting in a cathedral. He didn’t speak right away. He simply looked at her. 

He needed to hear what Lee had said. He needed to know how far the bastard had dared to go. His voice, when it came, was deceptively calm. The kind that would have sent anyone running. “What did he say to you?”

The room stilled. Even the air grew reverent. He stood there in black slacks and a linen shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his hand still half-raised from when he let her go. His eyes didn’t waver, didn’t soften. There was desire in them, yes, but buried beneath it was something else. Anger, not born from pride—but possession. And underneath even that, something holy and dangerous. She was the altar he knelt to, and now someone else had dared to enter the temple.

“Yoongi-“

“Answer the question,” he cut her off.

Aalia held his gaze for a moment. There was no tremble in her breath, no hint of fear in her eyes—only a quiet, haunting steadiness. It was the calm of someone who had accepted a storm long before it arrived, who had already bled in silence, and now chose her words like someone wielding the sharpest blade. "That I should be kinder to him," she said. The words barely brushed the space between them, yet they sliced through Yoongi’s chest like glass. 

He stared at her, his jaw locked, his mind a battlefield of restraint and fury. He hadn’t expected her to say that—not because he didn’t trust her, but because the idea of her even entertaining gentleness for a man like Lee made something feral rise in him. His blood burned beneath the polished layers of his calm. No, it wasn’t jealousy. It was possession. It was protection. It was rage wrapped in silk.

How could she say that so calmly? Did she not see what Lee wanted from her? Yoongi wanted to laugh. Or maybe scream. But his silence was louder than bombs. He was trying not to let it show, but it clawed up his throat like fire laced with jealousy.

What has he done to deserve your kindness? What has he done to look at you like that?

"You don't need to be kind to him," he said. “You don’t need to be anything to him.

He narrowed his eyes, searching her face, confused by the stillness in her demeanor. “Why are you so calm?” he asked, the question more to himself than to her.

Her lips curled into a small, soft smile, so disarming and genuine it made the weight on his chest momentarily lift. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Trust me. Please.” 

Yoongi’s expression softened. He did trust her—more than anyone, more than himself. Trust wasn’t the reason for the bitterness that sat heavy on his tongue. No, it was Lee. The way that bastard drank in the sight of her like she was a purchess he was planning to make. It was the way that had looked at her—as if she was already his. Yoongi had seen it before. 

“I trust you,”  his voice was raw and low, like the hum of thunder before a storm. “I just... don’t like the way he looks at you.” His fists clenched slightly by his sides. 

Because Kang Lee wanted what was his.

Aalia tilted her head and smiled at him, real this time. The kind of smile that softened the corners of her mouth and brought the faintest crinkle beneath her eyes. The kind that made her look angel-like, lighter, like a girl who had chosen something just for herself. She understood what he meant.

“I want you,” she said softly. 

Everything in him paused. Time. Breath. Sound. It was the kind of moment that shifted the earth’s rhythm.

“Say it again,” It was not a command but a plea. There was reverence in his voice. Desperation beneath the stillness. He said it like a man who had waited too long for salvation and couldn’t believe he was hearing it from her lips.

“I want you,” she said again.

He reached for her slowly, tugging her face gently up to his. He did not kiss her. Not yet. His lips hovered above hers, close enough that her breath mingled with his, close enough to drive them both mad. A sly smile touched the corner of his mouth, not arrogant, just certain. He wanted her to kiss him. To take what was already hers. But if she didn’t, he’d do it himself. He’d burn the whole world down for her.

And then—she rose to her toes, graceful, and kissed him. And Yoongi didn’t just kiss her back. He wanted to devour her, like she was something sacred. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers lost in her dark hair as he held her agasint him.

He stepped forward, backing her against the frame of the sofa as he tightened his grip in her hair. “Mmm,” she winced softly.

Her soft whines were like a prayer, and Yoongi wanted to sin. It brought a smirk to his lips, like he was tasting forbidden fruit and realizing he would damn himself for it. He kissed her again—deeper, more reverent. 

He couldn't hold back. Every breath she gave, every shiver beneath his hands, it ignited him like hell fire. His heart beat like a drum, wild and desperate and his restraint snapped. He needed her. He needed to worship her again like he did that first night. 

His hands slid to her wrists and he lifted them gently, guiding them to rest on his shoulders. Her fingers clung to him as if she knew he would not be gentle this time. Then, he reached down, hooking his hands beneath her thighs, and hoisted her up. She gasped and he sat her on the edge of the leather sofa and her legs wrapped around him.

She could feel him. "Mmph," her head fell back, and his lips found the delicate column of her throat. He could feel the pulse beneath her skin, beneath his mouth. Holy fuck, the way her body reacted to him. It was unbearable. He dragged his teeth gently over her neck, tasting her, and her fingers tighten on his shoulders.

He grinded his hips into hers, and a soft, helpless sound left her lips again, something between a whimper and a moan. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Not with the way she was trembling. 

Without breaking contact, he hooked his arms under her thighs again, her dress hiking up around her hips, and he carried her to the bed. 

The sight of her when he layed her down sprawled, breathless, dress askew—nearly brought him to his knees.

His fingers moved to the first button of his shirt, undoing them one by one, until the fabric parted down his chest, revealing his skin. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall, as she sat up. 

She was unafraid this time. There was something different in her now. Not bold, not wild, but certain. Her breath came steady and her gaze locked onto his. Her hands reached out – fast, almost desperate as they found the leather of his belt. She hadn't touched him like this before. The first time, her touch had been hesitant, like she was stepping into fire. But now she moved with intent. She knew where to tug, where to unfasten.

He let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. He held her chin, tilting it upwards. "You’re so cute." He stood at the edge of the bed as she undid the button, then the zipper. When her hand grazed his skin, his stomach tensed, a quiet gasp catching in his throat. There was something in her touch that humbled him. 

His hand moved to the hem of her dress, and she didn’t flinch. His knuckles grazed the soft skin of her sides as he traced down. Her dress whispered beneath his fingers as he dragged it up her body, inch by inch, revealing her to him. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, anchoring there. He took his time—because heaven had always been most sacred when it was forbidden. 

He pushed her back onto the bed, and hovered above her. He interlocked their fingers as he held her hand down by her head and leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was deep and passionate, as if he was confessing all his sins. 

“Mmmgg!” She moaned against his mouth as he pushed into her.

He bit down on her lower lip. “I want to hear you, darling.”

Yoongo smiled as he watched her grip the sheets with her free hand. He leaned down, kissing her neck, his teeth grazing her skin gently as he reached down and wrapped her leg around his hip, sinking deeper into her. “Mmh, Yoongi,” she whispered tightly and breathlessy.

The way his name fell from her lips was his undoing. He grinded agaisnt her. “F–fuck…” she gasped, the word tumbling from her lips. Her voice shook as her head fell back against the pillows. Her fingers tangled in the sheets beneath her.

And Min Yoongi laughed out of adoration. His gaze roamed over her flushed face, the wet shimmer of her lips, the tremble of her thighs. She looked like something ruined by devotion—yet wholly divine.

He released her thigh, his palm trailing up her side with a tenderness that ached. His hand found her cheek, fingers curling softly as he guided her to face him. His thumb brushed over her skin like he was memorizing the shape of her, mapping something sacred. Even in this state, ruined and breathless, she looked untouched by anything but him. Her pupils were blown wide, eyes glossy with the sheen of worship and want. His hand held her face like she might vanish, like she was a relic stolen from the heavens. 

Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Consuming. His lips crushed against hers, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Their breaths tangled, her free hand rose to clutch at his shoulder, and time seemed to fold in on itself.

When he pulled back, she was glowing from ruin. From what he’d done to her. From what she’d let him do. And he was stunned. Utterly, completely undone by how beautiful she was like this. Like Eve, moments before the fall. Like Persephone before Hades.

“Mine,” he whispered.

“Yours,” she breathed.

He pressed a kiss beneath her jaw, then down the hollow of her throat, as if following the path of some pirate treasure map inked into her skin. He smirked agasint as she arched into him. He pulled away, straightenning as he touched her. “Fuck!” she gasped loudly. 

He could feel her clench around him when he touched her. “Mmm, you’re so sensetive,” he chuckled. 

Aalia felt like her entire body was on fire. “Mmm Yoongi,” she bite down on her bottom lip as she looked up at him with a desperate and pleading expression. And Yoongi loved the way she looked right now. 

He leaned down, capturing her lips once again, but she couldn’t even kiss him back—not properly—not with the sounds breaking from her. Soft and uncontrollable moans spilled from her mouth into his, and it only made him kiss her harder, deeper, like he needed to swallow every gasp she gave. Her fingers clutched at his back. She was both pulling him closer and holding onto him. 

Yoongi’s hand slid away from where it had been torturing her, only to grip her hip. And then he thrust deeper into her, harder this time, his hips grinding into hers. The sharp cry she let out made his eyes darken. “Mine,” he said again, lower now, the syllable dragging across his tongue like a vow. 

“Yours,” the word left her lips as if she held a rosary and she was praying. “Yours,” she whispered again, but her voice was wrecked—soft and half-gasped. Her lips trembled even as she said it. There was no doubt in her expression. No hesitation. Just surrender and trust.

And his thrusts became rougher, grinding into her as if he wanted to carve himself into her skin. His hand tightened around her hand that was still pinned next to her head. Her moans were no longer soft. They were desperate. It was blasphemous. No one should be allowed to look this innocent and holy while being wrecked like this.

He pressed his forehead against hers, breath tangled between them. The golden crucifix around her neck had slipped to the side and over her shoulder. It was lost somewhere in her hair. A symbol of innocence cast aside.

Yoongi could feel her tighten around him. He leaned down to kiss her neck before his mouth moved to her ear “Come for me, baby,” he whispered, his tone a command wrapped in devotion. His hand moved to cup her face, thumb brushing the apple of her cheek, grounding her as she shattered.

She gasped—a soft, fragile sound as her back arched and her fingers clutched at his forearm. His grip on her hip tightened. And then—with one last thrust, he came inside her. He rested his forehead agasint hers as they both were trying to catch their breathes. He pulled of her, and layed on the side, before he pulled her close. He wrapped his arms around her as she curled up agaisnt him, and his chin rested on top of her head. 

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/64009903/chapters/164201557

[diorrxckstar]

𝐌𝐲 𝐀𝐀𝐀 𝐚𝐮 + 𝐎𝐂

⌞ 𝐎𝐂 basic info ⌝

• Her full name is Blair Aspen Vidal

• She's Rio's twin sister (she's not proud of it)

• She's also known as "Lady Life"

• Her role is pretty much obvious

• She's either a sweetheart or a msssive bitch. Just like life.

• She's half-spanish and half-romanian.

⌞ 𝐎𝐂 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 ⌝

𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚

Blair and Agatha get along quite well since she helped with creating Nicholas (since Rio can only take life and Blair is only able to create).

They had a thing in the past but Blair did the grave mistake to introduce her to Rio and the rest is pretty much history.

They hold no grudges against each other.

𝐑𝐢𝐨

Blair and Rio... They don't necessarily hate each other but they definitely not fond of one another.

The main reason they don't get along is because Blair does her best to create Life (and that's pretty hard) and beautiful things (let's not talk about illnesses, girl has her moments) while Rio doesn't hold back to take her hard work away.

Blair pretty much doesn't want to interact with Rio. It's kind of one-sided hate. Rio pretty much doesn't care.

(Yes, Rio is also half-spanish half-romanian)

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚

Blair saved her life more times than once, which only added fuel to her hate towards Rio. She never knew why but she just felt like she had to protect her and her life.

Eventually she revealed herself and they pretty much became close friends and soon enough lovers too. They have been together for around ~100 years.

Despite Blair being pretty much alive since the dawn of time, she's still kind of the younger one since she's physically stuck at the age of 21.

Blair is a switch but pretty much lets Lilia dominate.

𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

They are literally best friends. No questions asked.

Blair always does her best to protect her. She felt bad when she learned about the family curse and swore to protect Alice from it.

Blair always, always helps Alice finds new jobs and she somehow finds them faster than Alice does.

𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫

They're pretty much neutral about each other. Blair finds her quite mean but they get along.(that's all since they don't really interact)

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧

Blair knew from the start who he was, what was his deal and how everything happened. She felt very shitty for hiding all of it but she couldn't blow her cover.

He views Blair kind of like an older sister and she sees him as her little brother. They're very fond of each other.

She helps him understand and control his powers since Agatha's not exactly the most patient person.

⌞ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐎𝐂 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧? /𝐀𝐔 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 ⌝

Most important thing: absolutely no one dies.

She came on the road as Lilia's "familiar and apprentice".

She faked her name. (Blair Aspen Alonso)

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

She was the only one who actually drank the wine and was not affected. Everyone saw her drink, which made almost everyone suspicious. (Lilia was obviously not surprised and Agatha had a suspicion about who might Blair be.)

She played it off with "Oh, I'm immune to poison. A family thing." (which was not necessarily a lie)

Post trial: She was fuming when Rio appeared as the Green Witch. (they still summoned her because they realised Sharon is not a witch). They lost Sharon out of eyesight and all of a sudden she was not there anymore. Privately, Blair and Rio had a civilised talk and sent Sharon off the Road, back to Westview and played it as if she stepped off the Road again and died.

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

Blair is actually a pretty good singer so she sang alongside Agatha.

The only one not affected by the curse.

Post trial: She didn't doubt Jen but she did use her magic to make sure Teen stayed alive. Also, Rio only stopped Agatha from kissing her. Blair broke the news that Teen is not Nicholas.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

This is probably the only moment Blair and Rio get along and work together on the Road.

Alice still tried to save Agatha but Blair interfered the last second, pushing Alice away and saving her while also saving Agatha. Teen still shouted Nicholas' name and that's the moment Blair let go of Agatha.

Post trial: Teen still lashes out at Agatha for almost killing Alice while she kept insisting that it was accidental. And he still sends Lilia and Jen off the road. While Rio leaves the Road, Blair willingly gets off the Road to go after Lilia and Jen, afraid to leave them alone.

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

Pre trial: Blair got up pretty fast, right after Lilia. While Lilia discovered Rio is Death, Blair attacked Rio with magic, making her back off. She has a small monologue about how they had this discussion before and that Rio will not lay a single hand on Lilia ever. And that's practically the reveal that Blair is Life and that Rio and Blair are sisters.

When they get to the trial and Lilia finally does the reading for herself, Blair is the only one without a card. But Lilia accidentally drops a card on the floor, the card being "The Lovers" and she looks up at Blair, a silent confirmation that they are lovers and that that would be Blair's card.

When Lilia shoves everyone in the iron maiden, Blair stays behind. After Lilia shoved Jen, Blair placed The Tower, ran, took Lilia's hand and pulled both of them in the iron maiden, changing Lilia's fate. (as always when Lilia's in danger)

𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

It goes the same 🤷‍♀️

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟖

Blair manages to make everyone stay close to one another and casts a shield around all of them before fighting with Rio. Blair says no one is going to die, not on her watch, and that she didn't protect everyone on the Road just for it to all be in vain.

We find out that oh my gosh, Agatha has her powers back!! So she breaks through Blair's shield and she still kisses Rio. After that, Rio leaves and the shield breaks. Everyone (obviously) feels bad.

Blair gave Lilia one look. A "Please let me save her" look and Lilia nodded. Blair managed to rebuild Agatha's body (her corpse), crouched down and kissed it. You see, since Rio can take life by kissing, Blair can give life by kissing.

Agatha wakes up, as if she only fainted and immediately hugged Blair and thanked her. Blair said it was no problem but it was clear that she was not feeling well. The whole "kiss-of-Life" thing is very draining for her and Blair ends up passing out. Lilia calms everyone down by telling them this and that Blair will be fine and will wake up eventually.

Billy still leaves but everyone else stays, doing their best to help Blair.

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟗

We finally get to see more of Blair and Agatha's backstory.

After Rio leaves, Blair comes around to help Agatha with Nicholas.

The viewers are shown that Blair always helped Agatha and did her best to keep Nicky as healthy as possible.

We're shown that before Rio took Nicholas, she and Blair had a big fight. Rio said she needed to take Nicholas away and that she already let him live for too long. Blair on the other hand said that it was unfair and that it took her a lot of effort to create him since he lacked a father. Sadly, Blair lost the fight. She couldn't stay around Agatha anymore since she felt guilty for Nicholas' death.

After the backstory is shown, the focus of the episode shifts to Agatha's house. Basically everyone is worried because Blair is still passed out.

Eventually Blair wakes up and everyone calms down. Jen and Alice leave. Lilia stayed with Blair.

Billy came back a few hours later, asking Agatha for help to find Tommy. She agrees but says they kind of need one more person and she guides him to the living room, where the camera shifts to Blair and then the episode ends, alluding to the fact that they need Blair's help.

⌞ 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⌝

• Face claim: Chloe Rose Robertson

• She revealed that Rio is a fake brunette during a banter. Rio is blonde, like Blair.

• Lilia calls her "little bunny".

hshzhzhs I think this was all !!!!!

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Wonderland pt 1

Part 1 (Eventually) Yandere Luke castellan x Gender neutral reader

Summary you're from wonderland well at least you're mother is you're father is a God. The best swordsman in camp takes an.... interesting and obsessive liking to you

Also I feel like we offen forget wine isn't the only thing Dionysus is the God of but madness as well. I currently have bad writers block and couldn't currently think of anything else to add so I decided to split it into parts since I needed to post something.

Trigger warnings nothing yet, but eventually in future parts yandere themes like stalking, manipulation, kidnapping (extra)

You weren't from this world well......technically you are you were from a part of the world everyone thought was made up just another part of the human imagination......Wonderland . Wonderland was very.....disconnected from actual sane people or large bustling cities like New York. Your mother was probably one of the subjects of the queen of hearts just kinda surviving. Your father isn't exactly normal either he was also never around. Honestly as much as you love your mother it was kinda hard to imagine a God falling for her or really a God falling for anyone in Wonderland because while some of the inhabitants of Wonderland is more sane then others even the more sane ones start to go insane eventually.

Which is why when you were 13 you ran away from home. Although you had no clue where to go or what to do now you had left Wonderland. You're clothes and mismatched socks probably also made you stand out to by standers because in real life on Earth the other humans weren't used to seeing people dress in bright colors and patterns unless celebrating. After a few days of wandering aimlessly you ran into help or rather help ran into you.

You were desperately scrounging around for food thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave home when you felt someone run smack into you causing you both to tumble towards the ground. "Oh my pan! I'm so sorry." A male voice said. He had ...goat horns? Ehh not the weirdest thing you've ever seen. "Are those horns really or .....?" You asked. "They're real. Oh I'm Grover. " Grover replied. You weren't sure what to say or do and that's how you met Grover. After about a week of traveling with Grover is when you met Luke, Thalia and Annabeth.

" Hey Grover I'm going to find something to eat for myself. " You replied. " Ok just don't go far I'll finish setting up camp." Grover said. You did in fact wander to far when you stumbled upon a bush full of berries and you were about to eat some when you heard a voice tell you to wait. "Wait, don't eat those! those are holly berries they are poisonous!" A young female voice exclaimed. You looked around for the source of the voice. You spotted a young girl no older than 7 standing between some trees you could make out 2 more figures behind her one another female and the other male. You backed away your left hand reaching for a dagger in your pocket you swear wasn't there a moment ago while you're right hand still held the berries.

" Who are you why should I trust you?" You questioned. You got a closer look at them the seven year old girl had grey eyes , black hair and brown skin, the other gir who looked about a year younger than you so 12 had choppy short black hair , blue eyes and is white. She pushed the younger seven year old behind her. " Thalia I can protect myself!" The seven year old exclaimed. While the two girls were arguing you managed to sneak away not noticing the male following you.

" Grover!" You exclaimed finally making it back to the very stressed looking satyr. Grover rushed over to you. " Y/n there you are! You were gone for an hour I was worried I was calling your name but no reply and I didn't want to leave the fire unattended. Your not hurt are you?" Grover asked like a panicked father looking over you to make sure you didn't have any new injuries. " Hey Grover I'm ok. I'm ok." You replied. " Pan Y/n you had me so worried!" Grover exclaimed. "LUKE!" The older female voice Thalia called out causing You and Grover to look in the direction of Thalia's voice and there stood the male that had been with the 2 younger females.

Now learning his name is Luke. You started to reach for your dagger once again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. "

[silviakundera]

Love's Rebellion dropped express and now we know it's a happy ending, so it's safe to taste. I feel determined to give it a fair chance to engage me, because after watching many years of classic Doctor Who and Babylon 5, terrible CGI and low budget effects & sets can't deter me.

Love's Rebellion ep 1 watch comments

Strong character opening for the FL

We learn several key things about her within a few minutes, without an awkward info dump:

She's part of a martial sect but is the reclusive poisioner who doesn't fit in

Powerful enough that she's not intimidated by sword wielding martial siblings

Talks to magical creatures

Patient enough to spend multiple years cultivating her potion ingredients

Chaotic neutral - rescued a junior who came to fuck with her shit, instead of letting him die from poison, but in a very wacky way that terrorized him

ok so when I watch a xanxia I often try to place the tone, so I know what to expect 🤔

This is sorta wacky. The question for me is if this is more "Eternal Love of the Dream" & "Ashes to Love"... or "Back to the Brink". There's a level of unserious chaos that feels whimsical and fantastical to me, and I can vibe with that. But "Back to the Brink" crossed a line for me that felt like Disney channel movie, pre-teen level of pratfalls and goofy. That's very subjective and personal taste... It will likely take 3 or 4 episodes to determine if it's "for me"

ML's intro also pleased me. We get rumors on the street and then a mysterious sword carrying man who was reportedly "chased" by sects to a xanxia market area, spilling wine as a tribute to the dead and then calmy strolling off.

He narrates about himself that he was convicted to murdering fellow disciples and expelled from his sect, on the run

Gotta say, these intros are way better than a few I've seen in cdramas where characters explicitly tell each other paragraphs about a character's backstory in a way that feels artificial. People aren't standing and talking woodenly at each other, things are constantly happening on screen.

ML wants to prove his innocence. I bet the sect master did it. It's always the secretly corrupted shifu.

LMAO there's literally a group called the Evil Path Sect?? Reminds me of that viral tumblr post about joining the brotherhood of evil mutants 😂😭

FL surrounded by demons and gets a little anonymous assist from passersby ML. She's not meek and defenseless, nor is she high powered. Perhaps your average capable sect member

The whaling guitar during fight scenes is taking me out

FL found ML passed out on the road after anonymously saving her and has now kidnapped ML into forced treatment as a medicine tester

(I feel like I watched a drama where a ML wanted to keep FL around because they were obsessed w curing them of the same disease their mom died from. But in that one, it was super annoying that ML hid all this info from the FL. Maybe it was an OTT mini drama. I don't recall.)

This is all very straightforward and the FL doesn't hide her intentions at all. Since she's basically a strange hedge witch with an actual cauldron in a forest hut, the eccentric behavior fits

wtf FL is possessed by a bad cgi gremlin

It's a genie or something and ML wants to steal it because it is gonna help him get this magic manual.

ML really wants the Seven Sins Manual because somehow that's gonna solve his problems.

Why he believes that idk but I feel like the key to watching xanxia is not to think about the plot and mcguffin very much. Just go with it.

[scarabjewels]

Corpse Bride had the PERFECT ending.

SUE ME.

The number of people who wanted Emily to be Victor's endgame, with myself included, have a similar issue or lack of growth with Emily's arc throughout the movie.

Clinging onto the idea of love, to the point of forcing it onto someone. I'm calling us and her delusional.

She also went through a sort of roundabout response of the stages of grief: grieving her life.

Shock and Denial

She knows she's dead, and yet she delusionally believed she was still a young bride waiting for her groom

Emily was murdered and Barkis, her now ex- fiance, took her dreams with her life. My theory is that after she died, she had to grieve his betrayal first. She probably coped by clinging on to her dream, convinced that she had just found the wrong guy, and that the right one would come eventually. While we see she is popular in the underworld, she was not able to find a young enough suitor or one that sparked her interest.

She also exhibited extremely idealistic scenarios of her finding the right guy. Hey, the girl was murdered the last time she took a chance on an impulse. While her pattern of falling hard fast still exists, she probably convinced herself that Victor was better because she had no dowry to present for him to take and leave her, yet he still asked her to mary him (despite being an accident), so it must be "true love". This is the kind of behaviour a loottt of people with reoccuring similar toxic relationships tell themselves, I know because I was one of them.

Emily was our hot dead girl with the delulu issues. She was in denial of the reality of the situation, even when she was aware of this.

Pain and Guilt

Notice how when Emily has a fit about Victor seeing Victoria, she said the words "you should've thought of that before you asked me to marry you" and he responds "don't you see it was a mistake, I would never marry you". The silent blinking and realization of Victor's lack of tact, out of so much frustration, and Emily's small glimpse of what kind of person she had become, was perfection. She obviously knows she was holding him captive, but she was denying the truth until the wedding. It was painful for Emily, but her reality is so twisted that she can only see her pain before Victor.

The essence of guilt came when she was given the option to poison Victor to forever be tethered to his marriage to her. With guilt, there is kindness, and her kind heart shined before guilt. She couldn't bear to kill him for her dreams because she genuinely cared and loved him still. Another time was the wedding scene. She had second thoughts and finally realized that she was taking Victor and Victoria's chance.

Anger and Bargaining

When she caught Victor seeing Victoria, not only was she pained, she was blaming and angry at Victor, as in her eyes he was cheating on her, when all he did was to escape from her, because duh, he is held against his will.

Going back to their argument, while Emily felt jealous and envy, she subtly wished she was alive. In the lamenting musical scene "Tears to Shed," she accepted her death a long time ago but envied Victoria's main asset that she can never compete with: being alive.

Depression to upward turn

Emily's lamentation of being dead and that Victor will eventually leave her, being lonely again, was evident during the Tears to Shed song and just before the infamous chemistry induced piano scene.

While we see her depressed, she had calmed down and was able to be serenaded into a neutral mood again.

Emily was in this stage completely when Victor and her were gathering everyone and getting ready to get married upstairs.

Reconstruction and working through

Emily was in her full delusions of her dreams finally come true, but her reconstruction stage flashed when she was delivering her vow and saw Victoria watching.

My own little headcanon is that she saw herself in Victoria, and she saw herself as Barkis, taking her dreams away.

She stopped Victor drinking the poisoned wine and finally spoke her truth, the raw truth that Emily is seeing the reality she is in and what she has become.

Her dreams were taken, and now she is the one taking from someone else, and she hated it. She loved Victor so much, but he wasn't hers. She brought the Vs (keehee) together, deciding to call off the marriage.

Now, facing her past is probably her final stage of reconstruction. She meets her ex-fiance and is able to protect Victor from him in the midst of the two men's showdown. She was absolutely disgusted and hated his presence, pointing the sword and telling him to get out.

The karma probably hit best when Barkis drank the poisoned wine, his last words showing how full he is of himself. He was dealt with by Emily's underworld friends soon after he died.

Acceptance

While Victor and Victoria were finally in each other's arms, Emily smiled with bittersweetness and began to walk away. Victor stopped her, attempting to keep his promise. Emily reassured he already did. He set her free, and now it is her turn to set him free.

She literally walked the aisle alone. She accepted the truth, the past, and the present. Her only future was to move on.

As a sign of moving on, she tossed the bouquet that eventually landed on Victoria's hands. With her last breath, she bursted into butterflies. Finally free.

My Conclusion: Delulu got her the Solulu

I think a major theme in Emily's arc is letting her delusion get the best of her, almost portrayed humanely. Just an observation, aside from the art style of Tim Burton, Emily looked lowkey deranged? While Victor looked tired and scared, Victoria had wonder and curiosity, and Emily looked low key crazy and held on to what little sanity she had left. I think the reason why I couldn't see that aspect as much is because she also looked so beautiful, sounded sweet, and looked delicate, albeit being a red flag and literally a horrifying, decaying reanimated corpse.

Corpse Bride really was Emily's story, told through Victor's perspective. Let's be honest, if it was from Emily's perspective, it would be similar to 500 days of summer, an unreliable narration from a delusional protagonist. That is the difference between her, Victor, and Victoria. They saw what was actually going on.

Victor was already a developed character, in my opinion. He was just a young man living with anxiety. He liked Victoria at first sight and wanted to get married. He was kind and musically inclined. He was much more of an established person than say a character needing another character for their development like Joel from Eternal Sunshine (that's a read and I meant it). So was Victoria, she was a young woman who wanted to get married, looked forward to getting to know her betrothed more, and was quite outspoken and courageous. They were just bothe caught up in an arc. Emily, albeit the different girl, was probably the one who needed a manic pixie dream man, and she got Victor. She really needed character development.

One more theme the movie has is what a broken heart can do to you. Emily loved and was betrayed. She clung to an impossible dream even after death. Victor saw the opportunity for a rebound the minute he heard Victoria was going to get married to another man. Victoria was in total shock when she was going to be betrothed to someone else and accepted to help her parents, but also stood up for herself from Barrkus the minute he showed his intentions of marrying her.

I really loved Emily realising what was happening, it took her a good minute but she got there. I also loved that Emily and Victoria never got into some kind of argument or showdown, seriously I feel like that would have happened in early to mid 2010 fantasy romances, ehem Twilight (I hate the story and the characters but it was entertaining hot garbage). It was a graceful story of love and let go.

I'm sure we have a collective head canon of Victor's and Victoria's first daughter to be named Emily.

[oddclan-askblog]

Creatures of the bamboo forest:

Peaceful:

Dwarf Elum> Smaller greener colored Elum that can be picked up and held. Pig size. True Elum> Regular from the games, can be many different colors thanks to Maokon breeding. Shram> Mushroom with ram horns and goat features. Longhorn Yoxen> Water buffalo esc bull cows co-owned by Corvokon and Maokon.

Hostile:

Sleeg> Sleg Fleech cross that primarily feeds on the sligs bellow ground. When it rains they come to the surface where they are a terrifying threat to a mud. Slog> Not native but captured and bred by sligs to have new variants. Blython> Colorful hooded cobras that live in the trees. Messa has a purple one as a pet. They're big enough to hunt mudokons and yoxen at their largest. Giant Frolimite> Mama jumper spider that's a fluffier looking bolimite.

Neutral:

Keye Fish> A dolphin sized koi fish that comes in many colors. They are hunted for food and bred for new scale patterns. Grog> Three eyed tree frog, edible delicacy to the Corvokon. Its cousin the Dart Grog is pretty but poisonous. Brahana> Piranha/ gabit esc fish that feeds on anything that falls in the water. Can also climb onto land to swarm animals too close to the shore. Dwarf Frolimite> Jumping spider parallel that's the same size as a bolimite. Winnow> Small golden colored minnow fish that make up the backbone of the freshwater food chain.

Plant guide:

Beanpole Tree- Bamboo Greenco Leef- Ginkgo Leaves Phink Sakuro Oak- Pink Sakura Tree Grale- Wheat / Kale cross plant Grapez- Grapes Grazons- Raisons Wyne- Wine Ryce- Rice Kalp- Kelp Flornge- Orange

[haydenigmatic]

Members of House Sarpe 🐍

As the wardens of Vessier, the Sarpes maintain a balance of moderate military strength and considerable wealth. This wealth is primarily derived from the kingdom's renowned production of wine and poisons, as well as their extensive trade networks. Vessier's fertile lands and the presence of the Generel, a prestigious university, further augment their influence.

The Duke of Rouge Lake (Vessier) Lord Veneger Sarpe

FC: Michael Wincott and his deep, raspy voice.

Duke Veneger Sarpe is a master of manipulation and political strategy, yet he is powerless against the personal anguish he feels over Jyne's illness. His love for her is profound, and watching her deteriorate has inflicted a deep wound on his soul. To cope, he buries himself in his duties as the king’s spymaster, using his work to distract from the pain of his personal life. His frequent absences are not merely about duty but are also a way to avoid the heart-wrenching reality at home. Veneger’s love for Jyne drives him to maintain the strength and stability of House Sarpe, but his sorrow is a constant, underlying force in his actions.

The Duchess, Lady Jayne Montague

Duchess Jyne is a tragic figure, her illness rendering her unable to participate in family and political life as she once did. Her past wisdom and contributions are still valued, and her presence, though limited, carries a quiet strength.

(The Heir) Lord Veredus Sarpe

Lord Veredus is the paragon of traditional nobility. As the heir to House Sarpe, he clings to societal expectations with unwavering resolve. His sister Verena's seductive and manipulative tactics are an affront to everything he stands for. His fear of being overshadowed by her abilities creates a deep-seated tension between them. He struggles with the possibility that she might be more capable of filling their father's shoes, which threatens his identity and his place as the rightful heir. This rivalry drives him to prove himself, but it also exposes his vulnerabilities.

The Second child- Lord Vardan Sarpe

Lord Vardan is the adventurer of the family. His explorations to distant lands provide him with a wealth of knowledge and experiences. His neutral stance on family matters and frequent absences make him a mysterious and detached figure.

The Youngest - Lady Verena Sarpe

Lady Verena is the sharpest blade in House Sarpe's arsenal. She embodies her father's cunning and strategic brilliance, using her beauty and charm to manipulate and seduce her way to power. Her seductive skills are her weapon of choice, and she wields them with unmatched precision. She understands the value of influence and uses every tool at her disposal to secure her political advantage. Her elder brother's disdain for her methods only fuels her determination, and she thrives on the challenge of outmanoeuvring him. her unconventional ways make her a force to be reckoned with, and her ability to play the game of politics puts her in a league of her own.

[monabee-draws]

Hi! 7 or 12 for the de Riva ask game, if you want!

Thank you for the ask! I'll answer 12: Rook completing a contract with either Teia, Viago, Illario, Caterina and/or Jacobus.

Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors this has not been proofread! It is also a little long:

“I’m surprised to see you all the way out here,” Emmaline said, keeping her eyes on the taproom as Illario Dellamorte slid comfortably into an adjacent seat. He was, as always, dressed up a touch too much for the occasion. He had traded Crow silver for Orlesian gold on sheer verdant fabric. The mask he wore was, at least, only lightly embellished porcelain. It sat such that the pretty twist of his mouth was still visible, chin shaved clean in acquiesce to the preferences of the region.  

“I didn’t realise we were acquainted well enough for any of my actions to come as a surprise to you,” he replied. His hand found the stem of her wine goblet, a gaudy metal thing. She missed the delicate glasswork of Salle already. Antiva knew opulence, but Orlais always took it too far. Restraint seemed a concept entirely unfamiliar to them.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that Illario had taken the job.

“We aren’t,” she replied, raising her eyebrow at the exaggerated lean-in he risked, “Lucanis speaks of you often.”

Illario’s face slipped carefully back to neutral and he leaned back.

“My cousin knows less of me than he believes he does.”

“And isn’t that the curse of family. So close they fail to see the obvious.”

“You know much of family then, de Riva?”

“No, not really,” she murmured, then caught his questioning look and sighed, “Viago is like that often enough. Maker forbid he ever develop a taste for gossip.”

“Even I struggle to imagine the Fifth Talon giggling at a dinner table over olives and wine,” Illario snorted. He swirled her drink. Proving his own good sense (so easily overlooked), he swiftly dipped a silvered metal pin in and out of the solution. Then, he drank.

“Not all poisons are revealed by silver,” Emmaline whispered. Her eyes tracked the Antivan minstrel dancing a jig as he played his lilo flute. As a former Crow he should have known better than display that kind of talent for the public. Plenty of mercenaries had faces so scarred they were unrecognisable. Plenty of Ferelden hovels could hide a fugitive under enough squalor than even the Crows would not bother digging. It would be easy enough to wait out the performance and drop the man in the alleyway behind The Gilded Gurnhorn, but he was merely the lynchpin. Another, juicier target, stood behind him. Funded the import of such a delicate instrument, of fine dyes for his cloaks, and the gel he used to comb what was left of his hair. The smell of it was thick in the room, unmistakeably the scent of a gum tree grown only on Antivan soil. A very rare and expensive gum tree.

The minstrel finished his set. Illario did not slump forward from poisoned wine. Emmaline watched the crowd. And there, the one pair of eyes that watched not the bowing musician but kept vigil on the instrument laid carelessly on the minstrel’s high stool. Dark hair, a plain mask. A hem just short enough to avoid tripping in a foot chase but still mimic the fashions of Val Firmin. Estefania Dellamorte.

“Far left corner, in the silver and green dress,” Emmaline said. Illario took his time drawing his eyes to the target, then tapped with two fingers on the table in acknowledgement that he’d seen her.

“Shall I go prepare the carriage my dear?” Illario offered, sweet as honeyed wine.

“I would be ever so grateful, mon chéri.”

Illario left the table in the opposite direction of the mark, swanning into the backroom of the inn without drawing the staff’s ire. Emmaline watched as Estefania relaxed at his exit, then gestured to the minstrel before leaving through the front. Emmaline waited a moment before rising to speak to the minstrel.

“Oh what a wonderful performance this evening ser bard!” She cooed, catching the man by the arm. He tensed and then calmed taking in Emmaline’s stature and drunken gait.

“You flatter me, madam! I only do my level best.”

“Your best is certainly worth more than this silly little bar,” she said, slapping his shoulder and pretending to sway. The bard steadied her, careful to keep hold of his instrument. He had donned waxed gloves, the clever thing.

“For a poor musician such as myself, even this is a great privilege to earn, milady.”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” she assured him, smiling genially behind her mask in such a way that her eyes crinkled invitingly, “Have you considered going up to Montsimmard? Or even the capital? The acts there are so terribly dire. We’re desperately in need of fresh blood to liven the dinner services.”

“Does madam have a recommendation?” He asked, interest piqued. Too easy. Emmaline didn’t blame the man. Who wanted to live in Val Firmin if they had been raised in Rialto? It might be pretty to look at for a season, but a few years trapped here would feel as imprisonment to even the most resolute deserter.

“I have contacts in Montsimmard who would be delighted to platform such an act. Please, allow me to buy you a drink? We could talk it over in my room.”

The bard followed her happily, and – as Illario had done – tested the wine for poison. There was little a de Riva had to fear from poison, with how often they dosed themselves with antivenin and the slow acclimatisation to dangers that was central to their training. But Javi had not lived among the de Riva’s for three years. It was doubtful he had access to the kind of alchemists who could supply him similarly all the way here in the Dales. As his head began to droop, Emmaline chattered and laughed and drooped with him. He was not too heavy to walk out the door with, and Illario – gentleman that he was – handily took over once they were past the threshold.

They dumped his body beside Estefania’s, who was lovingly slit across her pretty throat. A pity. Well, Javi was a pity at least. To not even have failed a contract, and yet to have run? Emmaline felt some sadness for the time spent pointlessly by his trainers.

“Shall we celebrate a contract well-concluded, my dear Emmaline?” Illario offered cheerfully.

“No point in wasting the minstrel’s take from the evening’s performance, I suppose,” she replied, unpinning her ears so that they could more freely poke through her curls, “But I refuse to spend another minute in that Maker-cursed inn.”

“I’m not so familiar with Val Firmin’s entertainment options, I must admit.”

“Follow me then, Master Dellamorte. You deserve at least one non-poisoned glass of wine this evening.”

“I knew I wasn’t imagining the headache,” he grumbled.

"Perhaps the minstrel's playing was more draining than I perceived."

[2willowlane]

i've been posting silly crack fanfiction on ao3 lately, and i decided to just upload this on my tumblr. it's inspired off of interstellartoaster's kalampokiphobia: fear of corn, and the mods harvey's irrational apple hatred and harvey hates apples.

fantastic works; mind you.

gender neutral reader, sfw; not really focused on romance, as it is just absurdity

tallying his profit, of which was a big fat zero, harvey sighed; pushing up his glasses. it's been a rather long week for him, considering no one wants to buy those energy tonic muscle whatever medication that he supplies. the only time that anyone has ever purchased such a redundant item from him, was whenever they misclick- accidentally bought it; and then just sold it again. the only way that he'll ever make a good buck out of his pharmaceutical care was if he just eradicated the valley's food supply... of which, did sound tempting, but harvey loves his pickles too much to give them up.

there haven't been any appointments placed recently, so he was having a hard time trying to keep up with the expenses. right now, he could so go for a bottle of fine wine... maybe it's because he's spending too much of his expenses on plane models, rather than actually trying to keep up with all of the financial records, like an actual adult should. huh, what a foreign concept. well, he's just going to go continue complaining about his money situation, until further notice.

with the door opening, he had to them correct his shrimp posture, as he then greeted you, the almost superhuman farmer, into the clinic. normally, you just like to go behind the counter and access rooms that are off-limits to regular patients, but there was something about your gumption that made you so lovable. even if you do tend to barge into private examinations, there was something that made you feel so rebellious; that harvey couldn't help but swoon over you! also, he's a pathetic beanpole of a man, so he'll probably get pummeled into the ground by your combat prowess if he ever rejects your blatant non-filtered view of what "personal space" meant.

you were about to get some items turned into the community center; as you were carrying a basket full of assorted goods (they ranged from something simple to five highly-graded melons, a still-flopping ghostfish, and poisonous mushrooms). oh well, with the poisonous mushrooms, those are harvey's choice of decoration during the autumn seasons; so, the doctor felt rather seen whenever he saw those clumped together. he grimaced at the fish, however. other than that, he was glad to see a good friend pop in now and then; he needed something to spice up his days, and he can always expect you at around 9am, or somehow always being in the places he's trying to go to... coincidence?

normally, you'd stop on buy and get him a coffee. either you've brewed it yourself, or stopped by gus', it was coffee. you wonder how many mugs harvey has, considering you also gift him a free cup alongside the sweet, sweet ground bean liquid. it really wasn't the healthiest thing to drink due to the sugar and caffeine levels, and you were pretty worried for the guy who has been through years and years of intensive schooling to know better about those dietary concerns. you assume he probably only has a cup twice a week, considering you have some type of intergalactic force keeping you from extending that quota.

you had some apples somewhere on your person, and it was probably the only thing he'd like; you'd figure. after all, they're just funky little guys. who doesn't like a good, crisp apple? even though they're supposed to be for the community center, you can always just get one later. you'd give harvey something else, but you decided that he deserved better than just countless upon countless liters of his favourite brew. you knew harvey appreciated a good foraged, natural good—especially with someone locally grown on your acres. fishing out an apple out of your pockets, you then present it to him.

"... i think i may be allergic to this."

as harvey looked like a sad shih tzu puppy, looking off to the side, your heart sank. he was allergic to apples? at first, you really wanted to make fun of him. he seemed like the type of person who'd be allergic to peanut butter, and be the kid that doesn't allow their classmates to bring in anything homemade due to those medical reasons. holding the red delicious apple in your hands, rotating it around in your palm, you decided to test that theory.

"may?" you inquiried, and with a look of horror, harvey began to shudder. yes, he's an anxious man at heart, but due to various interesting cases at the clinic, he's grown insensitive to many things. plus, he's in front of the one and only farmer(tm), and his crush. god, what an embarrassment he is. he didn't want to talk about his irrational hatred for apples; those disgusting overblown flower ovaries called "fruit" just sicken him to death, not to mention that the apples were the first to hate HIM—it wasn't his fault that his body rejects them!

"yes, yes! just- just get it away from me!"

"i don't believe you..."

and that's where you've learnt that the phrase "an apple a day keep the doctor away" was right.

[thana-topsy]

35

Ancano X Savos Aren? 👀

EXCELLENT suggestion. Thank you for this one.

---

Ancano x Savos Aren "A kiss to gain something." (1077 words)

“I’m sorry, but the answer is still no.” 

Ancano lifted a brow as he took a sip of wine, gazing half-lidded over the brim of his cup. He dabbed his lips on the back of his glove and offered a delicate shrug in response. “I understand, Arch-Mage. My apologies for… haranguing you.”

They sat opposite each other in Savos Aren’s quarters, a bottle of Firebrand wine between them (Ancano’s gift), barely touched. Aren wore a look of pinched suspicion, which Ancano supposed was fair. He hadn’t really made an attempt at being pleasant thus far, but supposed after two months living at this wretched college that he might as well make an attempt to forge a connection. At least superficially. 

More than connection, however, he wanted access to Saarthal.

“You have to understand it from my perspective,” Aren continued, gazing curiously into his own wine cup. It’s not poisoned, Ancano wanted to say. “We already walk a delicate tightrope with the locals. Allowing a Thalmor agent to enter a revered Nordic crypt—especially considering the history of said crypt—it would shine unwanted attention on the College. We are neutral in this conflict, and many might see it as–”

“I might remind you that the Thalmor are also neutral in this conflict, Arch-Mage. Our presence in Skyrim, as with any other country under the Empire’s rule, is simply to enforce order and aid in upholding the agreements of the Concordat. I might also add that I am not a Justiciar. I am not here to root out Talos worship, though it is my duty to report it.” He paused, taking another sip of wine, letting his words linger. “But it is not my main concern. My role here is to act as an advisor and ambassador to you, Arch-Mage. And staying abreast of the College’s curriculum, including all relevant expeditions, is my concern.”

At long last, Aren took a sip of his own wine. He made a pleased noise, then picked up the bottle to inspect the label. “Quite nice.”

Ancano nodded, tilting his cup in Aren’s direction in silent cheers.

Aren sat back in his chair with a sigh, pushing the hood from his head. His long, black hair was streaked gray and pulled back into a low tail. His features were severe, even for a dark elf: high cheekbones and hollow cheeks, his deep red eyes slitted like a fox. The point of his beard only served to make his face appear far too long and narrow. Ancano always found the dark elves to have an unnatural, uncanny appearance to them—Daedra-cursed through and through—and rarely did he find himself in such close quarters with one. He couldn’t help but stare. 

“You were a student at this college once, correct?” Ancano asked. 

“Yes,” Aren answered, his nervousness returning. 

“What was your area of study?” 

He seemed to relax marginally. “Oh, well, I had a variety of projects in my time. This was close to a century ago, mind you, but–”

And he was off, jabbering away about various lines of research and artifact recovery. No wonder he’d initiated the Saarthal expedition. Savos Aren seemed particularly fascinated with what basically amounted to grave robbing. Ancano smiled into his wine. 

“What’s so funny?” Aren asked. 

“Funny? No no, you mistake me. I simply find your… enthusiasm to be charming.” 

An indigo flush crept up Aren’s neck and darkened his cheeks. He took a sip of his own wine and averted his fox-like eyes. 

Ancano made a mental note of the reaction. “Please continue,” he urged. “And let me–” He reached forward to lift the wine bottle, motioning for Aren to hold out his cup to be refilled. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Arch-Mage.” 

He listened patiently as the Dunmer continued to ramble, Aren's shoulders becoming looser, his gesticulations more enthusiastic. Ancano continued to fill Aren’s wine cup when it ran low.

“And I just feel it; a mage’s intuition, if you will. There’s a missing piece to the puzzle in Saarthal. Why would our ancient brethren risk it all otherwise? The Nords dug too deep, I say. They found something that they shouldn’t have. Something worth fighting for. I just know it.”

Ancano’s entire body blazed with victory, satisfaction curling in the pit of his stomach. He hid his excitement behind a placid smile. “You’ve dared to do what many have not. And for that, I commend you. I have no doubt your efforts will prove to be most fruitful.”

“I appreciate you saying so,” said Aren. “And thank you for the wine. It’s been most delicious.”

“Of course.” Ancano rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. “I believe I must retire for the evening. It’s grown late.” 

Aren got to his feet as well. “Ah, I’ve rambled on for so long. My apologies.”

“No need to apologize. I inquired, after all.”

Aren’s gaze was slightly unfocused—dulled from the wine and lulled by the companionable conversation—yet his gaze lingered on Ancano’s face for a moment too long. “If–” he began, then seemed to second guess himself. 

Ancano relaxed his posture, crossing his hands patiently in front of his waist, waiting. 

“I might accompany you to Saarthal, if you’d still like. Though the excavation has only just begun, I can show you our progress. If–” He gestured to Ancano’s robes. “–only if you promise to wear something a little less… flashy.” 

Ancano laughed, and to his own surprise it was a more genuine laugh than he intended. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. “I believe that’s a fair request.” 

Final play. Are you so sure of yourself? 

Yes, he answered his own query. 

Ancano was young by Altmeri standards, but he had grown up among politicians and kinsmen, breast-fed on the social dalliances of subterfuge and subtle manipulation. He knew the signs. He knew the game. 

Aren smiled a little too genuinely, and Ancano offered a slight bow in return, crossing his hands behind his back. 

“I would be honored, Arch-Mage.” Then, stepping forward, he leaned into Aren’s space, tilting his head to place a soft kiss against the dark elf’s cheek. 

Aren sucked in a breath, but otherwise remained stock still as Ancano’s lips lingered. 

Then, Acano stepped away with another bow, passing the gesture off as Altmeri formalities. “I eagerly await your invitation.”

“Very good,” Aren said distantly. 

Ancano’s smile felt razor-sharp on his lips. “And I’ll make sure to dress for the occasion.”

[stari-hun]

Book 5 - Prisoner in the Cave 

1914 - 1913 , (the 1914 marked in the game doesn’t make sense, I’m counting it as a mistake)

This entire new update is based on the myth. The myth of The Prisoner in the Cave is about a group of prisoners chained to a wall in a cave their entire life, and only being able to see shadows on the wall from the outside. Skipping a lot but the point is their entire world is defined by the little fragments of the world reflected back to them.

~ Wiggle Wiggle edit this future me ~

Basically, the TLDR of this story is that the Foundation managed to do something besides cause trauma and brainwash people for once and isolated the chemical? atom? They catch wind of a Manus signal where they find a box with Ms Radio inside and it tells Vertin to go to Apeiron. This ties into Book 5.2 where they learned people in the Foundation had met some arcanists from Apeiron which included Sophia and 37's mother. A big chunk of the side stories with the event followed how 37 was following in her mother's footsteps to predict The Storm before Vertin and Co. had even reached the island. To note, 37's mother had successfully predicted a few storms herself, and with what we saw in Book 6, its a possible thing to do with little error. Vertin meets 37 and she tells her it's actually 2007 since the island had been calculating how many years should've passed. Regulus was immediately arrested for having a chaotic neutral alignment, some humans didn't even get to the island since the arcanists of Apeiron don't consider them as able to comprehend math and logic as they can. Comparing this fact to the other parts of the lore is interesting because typically arcanists are considered the irrational ones. The full system is here.

Plot ensues and Vertin and Sonetto go to their sacred info dump session and debate club. What they didn't know is that Arcana was there so Sonetto rightfully lost her cool and broke the sacred silence. For a huge chunk of the story thereafter they have a huge debate to let Sonetto live since usually after someone breaks the silence they have to drink poisoned wine (it's implied if they live they're free to go). Someone makes the point that while Vertin has a point that Sonetto didn't count as someone even there since she didn't have a soul number, the same applies to Vertin so the debate was void. 37 replied that Vertin does in fact have a soul number, some plot significance was revealed there with some ominous words about how a person's soul number can predict their future. 37's character event also said she finds out people's soul numbers as a hobby which is likely why she stayed with Vertin despite not wanting to be on escort duty. Vertin's soul number is 0, the origin point in any graph which says a lot but I'm not here for that rn. Arcana and Vertin get truce bangles so if one hurts the other side they experience pain and if it goes on they'll die. Manus however really didn't care about that since they recruit ample canon fodder. Plot skip later and Vertin is in the Cave of Truth with 37 to find the answer to the unknown Storm chemical. However it comes at the cost of them taking down the shroud hiding the island, leaving them to deal with the consequences of an unknown island showing up in the middle of 1914.

~ Wiggle Wiggle edit this future me ~

Book 5 shows how while the Foundation as a whole is morally grey at best, Manus Vindictae are merciless in their pursuit of continuing the Storm. Everyone in their ranks who isn't a powerful Arcanist is just a necessary sacrifice to them. This is shown near the end of the book when Manus Vindictae peons would repeatedly attack Vertin and her team despite the Peace Agreement meaning they’d die. Book 2 also showed how Manus Vindictae treats humans and Arcanists who join their ranks.

[felixravinstills]

for the ask game - director's commentary :)

not sure if this it's only for tbosas fics, but if not - can I ask for one for From Water to Wine?

TBOSAS-wise, haha you know how I am about Clemmie... From Canis Canem Edit, I was wondering about Festus - if made to choose between Coriolanus and her, who would he pick? Or would he not pick one friend to back over the other?

ask game

I can do both! I'll do the tbosas section first since this is my tbosas blog (I technically have a hotd blog but I never use it).

Okay, the tbosas section got long, and then the hotd section is getting really long (I'm still writing it), so I will just make that a separate post and @ you.

Canis Canem Edit (Clemmie)

I think it's very telling that Festus hasn't picked a side for most of their years in University. To be fair, Clemmie and Coriolanus are also pretending that nothing is wrong. I think with this status quo, he wouldn't pick a side and coast on neutrality for as long as possible.

In the future, I think it gets trickier. Even if Clemensia and Coriolanus drift apart and stop talking, I don't think he'd necessarily feel the need to stop talking to one or the other, and I don't think either would ask him to (Festus would become an unwitting middleman for news about the former friends to each other). Since I headcanon Clemensia joining the Rebellion and Coriolanus being Coriolanus, this middleman situation gets trickier too, but Festus would for the most part remain unaware of the tension.

Once he does become more aware of Coriolanus being Coriolanus, he'd side with Clemmie (but the question is how much siding with her does he have time to do? I haven't quite hammered out an exact timeline for him becoming more aware). It's namely Felix's murder that sways him. I answered this ask earlier about the same fic which mentions Festus maybe having an idea of honorable competition, and Coriolanus' poisonings/murders falling outside of that (I will add that Festus could just disapprove of Coriolanus murdering any random person but still tolerate it. Capitol politics is cutthroat. But Festus would have a lot of hang ups when those people are more familiar to him/friends). Ultimately, in the future, Festus would choose Clemmie over Coriolanus even if Clemmie (in my interpretation) is doing treason and as of Allegory of the Cave, scapegoating random Capitolites to keep Coriolanus' attention off her. I think she'd steer clear of involving/scapegoating any friends, so Festus would be relatively fine with that.

Thanks for the ask, Medea! I think I'm almost done with the other section!

[murdcrofcrows]

sometimes there's a thought, like you choose what you're doing, but it comes to naught when i look back through it. i remember the view, street lights in the dark blue, the moment i knew i'd no choice but to love you. the creature still moving, that slowed in your arms. the fear in its eyes gone out in an instant. your tear caught the light, the earth from a distance, see how it shines.

inspo ・ visuals ・ headcanons ・ playlist ・ pinterest

( general stats. )

— name : tadhg willow flanagan — nickname(s) : honey-man, tig, tag — date of birth : march 17th ( 32 years old ) — occupation : beekeeper ・animal caretaker ・ carpenter — nationality : irish-eastern atlantian — ethnicity : white — religion : pagan — residence : devil's elbow forest — gender : cis man ( he / him ) — orientation : bisexual ( kinsey scale 4 ) demi-romantic — status : single

( physical & mental characteristics. )

— voiceclaim / accent : andrew hozier-byrne + irish accent — height : 6’6” / 198.12cm — body type : tall, long legs and torso, manual labor lean muscles — hair colour : brown with ginger tints — eye colour : green & yellow — dominant hand : ambidextrous — tattoos : celtic tree on his back — piercings : left nipple has a bar in it — physical health : definitely was exposed to some high radiation but has managed to keep poisoning to a minimum with the help of red wine and a good diet. has an occasional cough, however, but otherwise he seems to be in good physical condition — scars : several small nicks and cuts from working with his hands and animals, significant scar on his head from falling over after a particularly long night of drinking and standing up too fast, gravity got the best of him and his head shattered a pot on his porch cutting part of his scalp — style : long sleeve shirts, trousers/cargo pants (hopefully if he can find ones long enough), flannels, denim and tweed jackets, carhartt type jacket and beanie in the winter, natural colors often plain clothing with no branding to be seen, loves homemade items. — conditions : social anxiety ・ pots syndrome ・ insomnia

( personality stats. )

— qualities : environmentally conscious ・ compassionate ・altruistic ・ self-reliant ・ sensitive — flaws : rugged ・ closed-off ・ quiet ・ weary ・ stubborn ・ vague — mbti : infj — moral alignment : true neutral — temperament : phlegmatic — enneagram : 5w6 ( the troubleshooter ) — soul type : server — zodiac : pisces sun ・ sagittarius moon ・ pisces rising

( background check. )

— birthplace : bray, ireland — intelligence : average ・high average in areas of animals, nature, and philosophy — education : leaving certificate ・ vet-tech certification — skills : beekeeping ・carpentry ・ gardening ・ pottery ・ mead-making ・ basic first aid ・ animal care ・ bee product crafts ・ glassblowing ・ guitar playing — likes : animals ・ nature ・ homemade items ・ bees ・ naps ・ hammocks ・ irish whiskey ・ stew ・ soup ・ coffee ・ tea ・ music ・ good conversation ・ woodwork ・ deadpan humor — dislikes : hurt animals ・ litter ・ pollution ・ negativity ・ conflict ・ big crowds ・ bad whiskey ・ green tea ・ repetition ・ changing guitar strings ・ radiation ・ wasps ・ leather ・ money ・ birthdays ・ clothes — languages : english ・ irish ・ scottish gaelic ・ some welsh

( facts. )

while he's a hard worker when it comes to taking care of his area, he truly enjoys laying around in a hammock or rocking on his rocking chair reading, sleeping in, putting off chores in favor of going on a hike or spending quiet time with those close to him

tadgh is kind of anti-social ; truly would rather hangout with nature and animals versus people, this also extends to making long-term relationships. often being hard to date because of it but he has managed to keep some long-term friends/acquaintances.

he's a sucker for a good whiskey, mead, and music, a big sweet tooth as well though he prefers naturally sweetened things

each hive and queen has a name, he's very particular when it comes to his bees. he has them set to harvest at offset times and even has specific hives he moves in the winter for heather, thyme, ivy, holly, and other winter season honey.

being very tall he has a hard time finding clothes that fit him properly so the ones he does he ends up keeping until he absolutely has to get new ones.

his height has also made him subject hitting his head a lot, he also has pots syndrome so he often gets dizzy, lightheaded, high heart-rate, and can sometimes faint if he's not careful. it comes with other side effects and often leaves him exhausted easily which is why he enjoys short naps throughout the day.

[it-begins-with-rain]

TV Recommendation: Lost You Forever

*Summary only covering the first dozen episodes

The immortal princess Xiao Yao grew up alongside her cousin, prince Cang Xuan. They were inseparable in their youth, until tragedy struck. Cang Xuan's father died, and his mother committed suicide after murdering one of his uncles.

Then, the princess Xiao Yao was disowned by her father. Shortly after that, her mother died a hero upon the battlefield.

Xiao Yao and Cang Xuan swore to always protect each other, but circumstances forced the two children apart.

And then Xiao Yao vanished.

Three hundred years have passed since anyone saw Princess Xiao Yao. Cang Xuan has traveled the world, looking for any sign of his cousin and first love (They're from the Appalachia part of ancient fantasy China).

=======

Qingshiui Town is a bit of a lawless place.

Once a part of the now-destroyed Chenrong empire, it exists under no one's control. The remainder of the Chenrong army hide in the forests around the town, but it recognizes no emperor as holding dominion.

Of course, it's a teeny place of no consequence, so neither emperor particularly cares.

Within Qingshiui town is a peculiar immortal healer known as Wen Xiao Liu. He lives to shove his nose in everyone's business, and surrounds himself with mortal humans that he fiercely protects and annoys in equal measure.

One day, Wen Xiao Liu's men come across the mangled, mostly-dead body of a man in the river. He's been tortured to the extreme, shattered in both body and mind. It takes a year, but Wen Xiao Liu manages to bring the mysterious man back from the edge of death, and names his devout new follower Ye Shi Qi.

Around the same time, Wen Xiao Liu ends up a prisoner of the Chenrong rebels, and meets their terrifying and vicious strategist- Xiang Liu.

The Xiang Liu is a fierce beast- a snake-like monster with nine heads, only one of which is ever visible. He is immune to all poisons, but in exchange for Wen Xiao Liu's life, commands the healer to make him more and more vicious poisons to sample.

As if that wasn't enough excitement added to Wen Xiao Liu's life, the dickish and suspicious wine seller Mr. Xuan (in reality, Prince Cang Xuan) also makes his way to town with an arrogant companion- the lady A'Nian.

Qingshiui Town was supposed to be a neutral and quiet place at the edge of two mighty empires. But now Wen Xiao Liu has managed to trip and put himself at the heart of a power struggle that will consume the content.

Long ago, Prince Cang Xuan and Princess Xiao Yao were separated, with the princess vanishing from the face of the earth.

Now, they will reunite in Qingshiui Town-

Because the quirky healer Wen Xiao Liu is not a man, "he" is none other than Princess Xiao Yao herself.

What happened 300 years ago to the little princess?

How did she become the strange and feisty Wen Xiao Liu?

Who is the mysterious Ye Shi Qi?

And what is the Xiang Liu going to do when he realizes that Qingshiui Town holds the heirs to the two empires that forced his people to the brink of oblivion?

[pjofancalledbelle]

Out of date pineapples~ Leo Valdez x Hermes reader

A/N~ I’m working on the requests I swear I was just having a bad time so bear with me but they’re still open. Also this is going to be quick because I just accidentally ate out of date pineapples and it was bad. 👎 also can you tell who my favourite hoo boy is? 😊

READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL (if you want more gn or even mlm when I’m not a man then I’ll try just ask)

Warnings~ mentions of alcohol, really short and probably bad writing. synopsis~ Bad pineapples are gross 🤢

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🤍~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leo and (reader) were on a quest… a quest for what? I don’t know actually so don’t look here. Anyway, (reader) was hungry, like about to get on her hands and knees to eat the dirt kind of hungry.

“Are you sure you don’t have any food?” (reader) their tummy letting out another grumble as they frowned at Leo.

“Not in my pockets only metal… I mean there’s one place we haven’t tried but I’m sure we could trust the food.” Leo mumbled as he looked down then back up at you (he looked up cause he’s short).

“I don’t care just give it to me!” (reader) whined with a desperate glance towards Leo. Normally, a quest with Leo and (reader) would be full of jokes, mostly self deprecating ones from both parties, and planing pranks but this time (reader) was so hungry they could barley think.

“okay, okay. I’m on it.” Leo said as his fidgety hands went into his tool belt and he pulled out a small superstore packet of pineapples (People from the Uk I’m talking about the Tesco ones but there’s no Tesco in the us 😪). “Here eat up.” Leo said proudly presenting the pineapple slices to them with a smile.

(reader) mumbled their thanks and quickly took the pineapple slices opening it and eating one making a face of relief before it turned into disgust and they spat it out.

“Ew, Ew, Ew! It tastes like alcohol!” (reader) yelled as they wiped their tongue with their hand and looked at the packaging to see it was out of date.

“It tastes like what now? How do you know what alcohol tastes like?” Leo asked tasting a suspicious eyebrow at them.

“My brothers run the snack shop, you think they don’t steal alcohol as well?” (reader) said as they gave Leo a ‘your an idiot’ look and rolled their eyes.

“you should eat them and chug the juice to see if makes you tipsy.” Leo suggested with a mischievous grin.

(reader) looked down at the pineapples then back up at Leo before also smiling. “Well I am still hungry.”

famous last words… because they didn’t get tipsy only food poisoning.

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A/N~ sorry if this didn’t make sense I got distracted half way through from a Sheldon cooper cult on discord 😪. Anyways hope you liked this. My out of date pineapple tasted bad and this is why with have this fic. Send in requests and yeah thanks for 8 followers! ❤️

PS. I only know what alcohol tastes like cause my dad let me suck beer off my toe when I was 5! And my mum lets me sip her wine I’m not getting pissed in a field I swear! I’m not a bad girl like jojo with the bow bow.