#theyre very thin and delicate skin too

[rxttenfish]

ah yes my great secret that i never talk about. the fact that anytime miranda gets wet shes also Incredibly Slimy.

[greetingsfromuranus]

What qualities do you like about Double D the most?

Soooo so many things I love about him - I often think about how soft his skin would be, like his cheeks are all soft and squishy, and his neck is probably so delicate and warm, his skin would probably be a bit clammy (he's so anxious and riled up all the time....) but not in an unpleasant way, it's just how he is lol. He's definitely one of those people with really cold hands and other extremities, but a warm enough torso

I love the way his face stretches when he smiles! I love seeing all the different shapes he takes but his smile is my favorite :3 how do I describe it- he isn't lumpy or anything, but he just has so many interesting moving parts, I love how his cheeks stick out and his chin sticks out and his jaw behind his ear sticks out, and his lil eye lines/eye bags, and of course his tooth gap! Big ol teeth...... He's just so wonderful to look at and I wish I could give him a big kiss on the forehead... boop his nose while I'm at it.... he's shaped all awkward like a newborn kitten or and I love it

I love how long he is! Lanky lil ferret creature, like a cat, or a weasel, or a salamander! I like the salamander comparison best, I've studied their anatomy before and it ready fits Double D the best..... They're all lanky and squiggly and flexible just like Double D ^w^

I really like Edds funky posture, he has such a cute lil belly and messed up scoliosis back lol..... like he's all tall and thin compared to everyone else but he's still fleshy and soft >u< like you can see his ribcage and spine poking out, but he still has a big kitten belly... I just wanna hold and squish him! his limbs are all lanky and awkward, but theyre more like that of a delicate baby bird than a bony human!

Also... cute butt........ squishy squishy 🤤🤤 LOL I know it's probably just his big ol shorts but it's still cute..... I love how all his clothes are so big on him! It's adorable!! I can imagine all the textures so vividly.... his outfits are def 10/10 comfy ^^ I love how he just wears knee/thigh high socks, it's very cute and funny, I also wear socks that go up to my shorts sometimes and it is VERY comfy when they fit well.

I also love his tiny lil legs and the way he walks/runs! They go pitter patter as he skitters around like a dachshund or a lizard a a funky lil bug!

And I really like the way he handles his energy... ill start with describing the other eds first!

With Ed, his energy is sort of consistently radiating out, he has an IMMENSE amount of power and imagination in there, but he's big enough to handle it. It seeps out like radiation from a 10 ton brick of uranium.

With Eddy, he has more explosive tendencies, he's short and stout, which makes it harder for him to hold everything in, but he tends to compress it all down into a little ball. He's extremely volatile and reactive, you set him off and BOOM it all explodes out! His little body just can't handle anything new, he's already backed up with so much repressed emotion that there just isn't room for anything new. His explosions are like dynamite, or a star that got too much mass and imploded on itself.

Now Edd is the Anxiety Creature™, his energy is also volatile in nature, but I guess he's more electric, or like plasma. It's the kind of heat that's so hot it starts to feel cold again, like coming inside from the snow, turning the bath faucet to the hottest temp and butting your feet right under it. The difference between him and eddy is that Double D isn't able to hold anything down, as soon as it's created it's let out into the world, however that may be. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, expresses any and all fear, excitement, disgust, and affection he feels because he just doesn't have the volume to hold any of it in. He creates huge amounts of energy, and there's nowhere for it to go but out into the world! His tiny body just can't hold it all in.... it's hard to find a comparison like the other two, something so small with so much energy.... his energy sorta functions like the sun, once you look at it up close.

Here's a diagram I made to visualize it better, (it looks better on computer than phone) I feel like Edds colors are different based on whatever emotion he's expressing, but theyre always bright, whipping out like pink and yellow and blue solar flares. Eddy's are definitely more firey and messy than what i drew, think dynamite mixed with a supernova.

I've been writing this post all morning, and I think im gonna call it here for now lol. I will add some stuff about Double D's personality later lol.

[roughentumble]

"you could hang a portrait off my nipples," jaskier says, a deflection, a joke, but all geralt can see is,

ribs. a swath of ribs, a sunken-in stomach, skin clinging to thin arms. he own stomach chruns. jaskier had never had trouble making money in the past, once he'd made a name for himself, he was always the one pushing more food on geralt. bard means soft, bard means fed, bard means full waist and excess and joy. what had happened to him in the interveening months?

geralt doesnt feel privy to these details, even with their tenuous reconnection. he'd pushed jaskier away as he always does when he's hurting, and jaskier had left, and now he doesnt get the privilege of knowledge. but he still aches to see it, knows intimately the pain of an empty stomach. what had happened to his bard?

the moment passes. jaskier gets out of the water, redresses. they dont talk about it, because geralt doesnt have the words. feels like he never has the words. he has a million different things swirling around in his mind, a million different worries, and one more gets added to the pile. something must be done.

+++++

when the worst of everything is over, when everyone is gathered in kaer morhen and the cloud of death has passed, they still have to pick up the pieces. they still have to live. vesemir cooks for the ones still here, and he makes too much because--

because--

geralt hears him curse his old hands for making meals as theyre used to. for falling back on habit, instead of adjusting for...

theyre all used to death, but this still brings back too many memories. of massacres and hatred. everyone is silent unless theyre cursing.

still. the food is set out. people must eat.

jaskier is always the last to the table, seemingly sensing that he isnt very welcome. geralt wishes he were, but its hard to invite someone to a mourning. still, he moves strategically, filling two plates, piling them high with extra food. when jaskier gets to the table, before he can do anything, geralt sets a plate before him.

he gets a raised eyebrow at the portion. "it'll go to waste if it isnt eaten." geralt says simply, and jaskier nods, can sense that the portions are a... delicate subject. he tucks in. he only eats about three-fourths of his plate before declaring himself stuffed, and he sneaks a bottle of wine off the table, but geralt considers it a win.

++++

they plan to move on, geralt and ciri and yen and jask, all four of them. but they need to prepare first, and that gives geralt time. he piles jaskier's plates at every meal of the day, then lies in wait like an ambush predator, ready to spring his trap as soon as jaskier arrives. he doesnt think he's imagining the gradual rounding of jaskier's cheeks, the healthoer flush to his skin, but he cant be sure. jaskier's suspiciousness slowly dies down, replaced by routine and habit.

he comes to dinner reeking of booze half the time, but he also only leaves with a bottle half the time, and as much as geralt aches to know what's causing such strife, he considers that a win too.

++++

"i reek," jaskier announces one day with a wrinkled nose, "and if i take one more tub bath in this mountain air, my cock will shrivel up and fall off, to the consternation of every eligible young thing in the lands. and the inelibable ones too, come to think of it."

geralt snorts at his theatrics. "could always go down to the springs."

"oh yes, glacial mountain springs, sounds perfect," jaskier replies sarcastically.

geralt blinks. "no. the hot springs. hasnt anyone told you about them?" jaskier's bafflement makes geralt grin. "follow me."

they gather supplies they'll need for bathing in the customary buckets and carry them on their hips as geralt leads jaskier to the bowels of the keep. it's a bit of a trek, some of the corridors long and twisting, and geralt can tell from jaskier's face that he'll get lost if not accompanied. ah, well, it's hardly a hardship.

they arrive to a nondescript door at the bottom of a set of stairs, only distinct by the warmth of the handle. he pushes it open and steam rises to meet them, billowing out into the cold hallway. geralt gestures for jaskier to follow and closes the door behind them to keep the heat trapped.

inside is a cavern with a series of pools, each with steaming clear water. there's an area by the door to sit and undress, and there are sconces on the wall geralt lights with a quick wave of igni, but otherwise the room's been left untouched from its natural state. it's dim and warm and beautiful, the most coveted spot in kaer morhen.

jaskier looks around in wonder, fingertips grazing the stone walls. "i'll have to write a song about this place, you know."

"i'd expect nothing less," geralt replies with a fond smile. they both set about stripping, long since working past being shy after years of travel, and carry their supplies to the nearest pool. geralt keeps his eyes averted until theyre in the water, because its polite. as he steps in, though, jaskier lets out a satisfied groan, and it draws geralt's attention.

jaskier lounges back against the edge of the pool, head tipped back in ease, and there around his stomach is the welcome addition of soft fat.

he's nowhere near healthy again yet, but all over he's less emaciated, inner workings hidden again. it means he isnt starving, it means he has energy again, it means a clear head and vigor and comfort, it means the return of the soft bard, it means the world is once more righting itself.

geralt cant help but get a bit of a big head about it. he did that. he fed jaskier, provided, fixed it so he didnt ache. he did that. jaskier, though, he notices the smug look, throws geralt his own unimpressed one.

"yes, yes, your hot springs are very fancy your lordship, no need to look so above it all," he says with a wave of his hand.

"its not that," geralt says, shaking his head. "youre just... looking healthier. the meals at kaer morhen have been good for you."

jaskier goes very still. his eyes narrow. "is that what you've been doing? making my plates for me to-- to what? put some meat on my bones?"

geralt ducks his head. "it's been working, hasnt it? you came here so hungry. i couldnt do anything about it until after the battle, but home cooked meals have been doing you well. i know i dont have a right to ask what happened to make you..." he trails off for a moment, looking distant as the image of jaskier so damn skinny flashes before his eyes, "but i wanted to... fix it."

"maybe i didnt want to be fixed. you didnt even ask." jaskier says, sounding like he's gearing up for a rant, shoulders coiled tightly.

"im... sorry?" geralt says confusedly. "i could tell you were hungry. i wanted to get you something to eat." he says it like its the simplest thing in the world.

"why even bother? why do all that, what does it even fucking matter?" jaskier asks, simmering with barely controlled anger. "so im a bit skinny, what the hell is it to you?"

"because i care." geralt says, sticking out his chin stubbornly.

jaskier looks like he's been punched.

"why do you have to be so damn kind all the time, until youre suddenly not?" jaskier asks through tears, pressing his fists against his eyes. "youre so damned good. i hate it. i hate it so much."

geralt's chest aches. he doesnt quite know why he spurns kindness when he hurts, why pain makes him lash out like a cornered animal. he wants to do more. he wants to be better. he opens his arms and says "come here," gently.

jaskier goes. he shuffles over beside geralt and slumps into his arms, lets himself be held and petted. usually geralt's snapping gets him told off or ignored by jaskier, who knows about his problems. but perhaps with his world burning around him, he'd snapped too hard this time. maybe he'd drawn blood. his hands stroke jaskier's back like a dog licking in apology. "let me wash your hair?" he asks, and jaskier shudders violently, but nods.

jaskier dunks himself beneath the surface to soak entirely, and geralt lathers the shampoo bar to get it nice and sudsy. jaskier kneels in the middle of the spring while geralt works his fingers through the tacky strands, soaked with dirt and sweat. its a long process, meditative, and by the time geralt's done jaskier is swaying gently with each ministration. geralt tips him back gentle and easy to rinse away the grime, and jaskier sighs in relief.

geralt keeps him there, laying back, getting his scalp massaged in the hot water. the fullness of his cheeks isnt an illusion. neither is the peace in his expression. "are you alright?" geralt asks

jaskier opens his eyes slowly, gazing up at geralt. the silence is long and contemplative, and he reaches up to cup geralt's cheek. "...yeah. i think i'm gonna' be alright."

wait oh my god ok so

ive read fics where jaskier sees geralt's physique for the first time and is horrified, because he knows that being able to see all your abs in unhealthy and that geralt must be severely underweight and starved

what if that bathing scene in s2 wasnt geralt being turned on, it was geralt HORRIFIED because he's seeing that his friend has obviously fallen on some very hard times, and is starving

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[loverholicrobotronic]

More soap opinions <3

Pears in blue

I love this soap so much i want to try the other scents/colors by this brand. Its a little bit pricier than what im used 2 (around 1 euro), but its ok its worth it i think. Has a pleasant lather, a little bit creamy delightfully bubbly but got very foamy in the shower. Was my introduction to the peppermint scent and i love it im always putting it up to my nose to smell it its fresh and a bit masc this peppermint soap bar is what every brand who markets stuff for men as manly but clean thinks theyre doing (but they're not). I only have one complaint: these soaps (the other colors as well) claim to be transparent but theyre not they're translucent. The color is fascinating though (very vibrant blue closest to royal) and it only gets prettier as the soap wears down. Mine is very thin right now

Lifebuoy classic white one

Another big hit for me this shit is amazing. Clean beautiful slightly cream like scent and the creamiest lather i have ever tried ever. Its instant you don't even have to work much. Its so good i will forgive how they harassed us with advertisements for this thing on tv a decade ago. Well that was when i used to watch tv they could still be at it and i wouldn't know but i understand i get it the soap is cheap (less than half a euro) it works wonders superior sensory experience like. I get it ill allow it

Fa Citrus

God this smell takes me back bc my father used to use its cologne for the longest time bc it was cheap. Its a clean scent i know every soap bar i talk about has a clean scent the reason is i hate perfume like smells on products (not even perfumes). And also i guess it was just how we were brought up associating certain smells with cleanliness but you just cant deny it though its different genres of clean like dettol clean is like bleach 4 the skin your richer classmates or family members home mopping their floors and tending to their delicate kids' wounds from playing outside. Dove clean is on the feminine side cute daring classmate in highschool (or at a camp if you had something you can call a childhood) you sort of had a thing with but also nothing happened. Alternatively pretty girl model child you've had a thing FOR but she definitely didn't like you back like not even as a person but was nice and polite nonetheless. Pears clean scent is like the cleanest he/him in class or in your family that has found the perfect balance between caring for his hygiene and nobody calling him gay for it. Lifebuoy clean is like spoiled cousin whose parent (never the one you're related to by blood) works abroad. So if i were to describe the Fa take on clean scents itd be along the lines of floor detergent for people. Again positively so. It definitely has a hint of that element common to so many colognes hence why it translates so well to one . Nice note is the shape of the soap has a single dent on one edge and it really secures it in your hands. Not that i know of why anybody would use a bar soap like that and risk dropping it on the disgusting floor of dorms instead of just using a loofa or a shower glove. Its good enough that it made me curious about the rest of the saga but there is close to no citrus notes within the scent it only smells clean.

Pears in amber color

Mamma bought me this bc she knows i wanted it... 💘💘💘. Anyways this is a little bit more translucent than the other one since it seems to be one of their selling points. Lathers the exact same as the blue. Unfortunately the smell is... tragic. Smells like warm glycerine, a smell i loathe. The natural oils notes are present but they don't do much for this scent to me it was a big let down. My roommate has a bunch of glycerine+lavender soaps and they smell the exact same at this one: bad. Never buy a soap that says glycerin on it i will struggle to go through this one bc i feel too guilty to give it away now. Oh well

Misky in honey

A most welcome addition that just launched in the bim stores. Three little soaps for less than a canadian dollar ... A steal in my opinion. Its especially a steal because the lather is sooooo nice and creamy just delightful. It smells like soap (so thatd be something like the classic el keff if you know it) with the honey notes pretty present. Its nice bc its not an agressive smell and youll catch a whiff of it while using the soap and it smells nice when you bring it up to the nose. Unfortunate that its ugly mainly because of the color (classic sick yellow-beige) but i respect that they didn't want colorants in. Not drying

I tried other soaps but they were like. Nameless brands suspiciously cheap and they turned out to be such trash im so sad i dont even want to talk about it. Never venturing that far again 'big name brands' are risk enough. I do want to try more locally made stuff but I feel like thats leaving relatable territory. Not that it should matter 2 me <3

[unicyclehippo]

idk if this is the kind of prompt you were looking for but maybe a take on beau never joins the m9 and the first time they meet her is when she's an expositor and how they react to her saving them from something

maybe not what u wanted , but all i could think about

//

The time they were given, left to wait in the antechamber of the castle, was enough to catch their breath but not nearly long enough to recover or start that process, so it is still bruised and bloodied that they follow the Marshal into the throne room.

The chamber is grand. Far beyond anything their patchwork party has ever seen before. It is comparable in size, in grandeur to the Bright Queen’s throne room, except that where her space had been a clear, clean, shattered prism of crystal and a pure but cold light, here is all severe grey stone, heavy and firm, and stained glass. The pretty colours do nothing to mellow the space; if anything, all the windows do is highlight how dizzyingly tall the ceiling of the chamber is as they stretch higher and higher.

Their boots tap against stone. Echo in the vast space around them. The Nein walk across, through, the scored lines of light that burn from those windows across the floor.

Ahead of them rides a great set of stairs that honestly, at this point, just feels like torture. They’re beat to shit. They’re tired. They don’t want to do this. If they’re gonna be killed, the King could at least have the decency to not make them climb a hundred steps first.

The Marshal nods them forward, expression brooking no disagreement.

‘I wish—I had died,’ Fjord groans, quietly. He’s panting as he climbs. ‘Honestly, if I have to—oh god—climb another step, I’m gonna throw myself—ha—down them.’

Jester grips his hand hard. Struggles for a smile, but with each step she’s losing her breath and it has less to do with exertion and far more to do with the fear squeezing her heart as the heads and shoulders and cool faces of the Council start to show above the platform.

A man with shoulder length hair and a long, thin goatee, both streaked with grey sits upon his throne, wooden and backed with an immensely tall and ornately carved back. The man looks to once have been fit and strong but now, in perhaps his early sixties, the muscle he had built has gone soft. There is nothing soft in the way he stares at them, cuts suspicious stares down over each of them in turn—lingering on Fjord, on Jester and Molly, on Nott. He is the King, and Jester thinks she would have known that even without the circlet that rests upon his head.

The names and faces of the remainder of the Council blur, all of them imposing, none of them welcoming. Jester searches their number for something, anythjng to focus on, as Caduceus begins to talk and panics, and as Fjord takes over, smooth and calm. No sign of the panic Jester knows he must be feeling.

It is when the Martinet steps forward that Jester sees her.

Seated behind the Martinet is a young human woman, not much older than Jester if at all, with dark skin and dark hair, which she wears pulled back into a handsome top knot and the sides shaved. Fine robes cover her clothes; they are similar to what the Martinet wears, but far less adorned. Which is not to say that she doesn’t shine at all—there is a small mantle of office draped across her shoulders, plain in comparison but still weighty, and gold glints in several places on her ears. Her face is handsome, though more stern than Jester would expect to see on someone so young, and unmarred save for a scar that cuts deep into her brow, dividing it into uneven parts.

She must feel Jester’s attention on her because suddenly blue eyes are fixed on her in turn and Jester can do nothing but stand still, stuck in place not because of this stupid terrifying audience with the King of the Empire, but by the powerful force of this stranger’s attention. She looks over Jester as though she can see into her, as though Jester were an open book and she a speed reader—and then her eyes skip up to meet Jester’s again, seemingly for no particular reason, and she smiles.

It’s not much. A flicker of a smile. A smudge of a smile. It isn’t kind, it isn’t sweet, but it is somehow very reassuring.

The smile is gone as quickly as it came and then they are answering a lot of very scary questions like How does the Bright Queen know about you? Why would she care about you? (and Jester does not like the tone of that question, like they’re stupid, or small, or worthless, and How did you know about the cult if you are not a part of it?

Jester’s attention drifts back to the girl. She’s taking notes in a quick hand, has been the whole time—but now her hand is still and poised above the page and she is looking at Yasha of all people with keen interest. What can she see? If she is the Martinet’s assistant, does that mean she’s magical? What does she know about Yasha, about all of them, just by looking?

‘I scried on them,’ Jester blurts. Feels the world spin around her. ‘Mister King? This is a very tall platform, um,’

‘You scried on them?’ the Martinet prompts, before the Kings darkening expression boils over into a storm.

‘Yes. We found a thingy—‘

‘A...thingy.’

Jester swallows hard. ‘A device. That was being used to open portals.’ She tries to remember what Allura and Caleb had told them. ‘They were planting them everywhere to open rifts to the Hells—‘

‘Abyss,’ Fjord coughs.

‘Abyss,’ Jester corrects, voice pitching higher as her heart rattled with nerves. ‘It’s like termites!’

‘Termites,’ the Martinet repeats.

Jester wonders if he has ever had to worry about anything like that, anything as ordinary and mundane and troublesome as termites.

‘Yah. They eat wood? They’re little and white and look a bit like ants,’

‘I know what termites are. I am not in need of a lesson on beetles at this time.’

‘Technically, technically, they’re insects,’

‘Maybe ixnay on the ugbay essonlay,’ Fjord hisses.

‘She’s right.’ The voice comes from behind the Martinet. He turns, brows raised, to the girl taking notes. Her voice is nice, Jester notes. Kinda brash and rough, but warm. She sounds like a real person, like the people they’ve spoken to all over the continent. Not like these polished martinets and kings.

‘Pardon?’

‘Termites. They’re insects, not beetles.’

The Martinet sighs. ‘Yes, very good, thank you Beauregard.’ He turns back to Jester. ‘So, to clarify, you found this device that opened portals to the Abyss in the manner of...a termite?’

Jester thinks about it for a moment. ‘No.’

‘There were many devices,’ Nott interjects. Realises—remembers—too late that she is a goblin. But the King and Martinet are watching her now, so she continues. ‘We found—three? Of them. And there were more we heard about but didn’t see.’

‘With each one that opens, they...undermine the integrity of the planes,’ Jester says, trying to repeat what Allura and Caleb had said.

Up there on the platform, Allura nods encouragingly.

The girl—Beauregard—looks with interest toward the Arcanist, and back at the Nein once more. There’s a thoughtful crease between her brows and she seems to be taking notes in earnest now, though no one is speaking.

‘You said you scried on these people. Would you be able to describe them, beyond the ones you slew?’

Jester licks her lips. Glances across to Fjord who shrugs helplessly. Cad looks like he’s still mid panic attack but she knows his thoughts on it—honestly. Caleb meets her eyes cautiously, careful not to stray sideways to the white haired jaundiced man upon the platform. He nods the smallest amount.

‘I can—we can name one of them. An empire agent who is part of the cult.’

‘Then do so,’ the King commands.

Jester nods to him a few times, fast, jewellery jangling it seems far too loud in her ears. She stills. Feels her attention dragged back to the Martinet and, behind him, the note-taker.

‘Vence Nutheylas.’

Things devolve quickly from there—accusations are thrown at the Nein, at Allura, hinted at the Martinet, Ikithon is a fucking creep, the King makes puppets of the Nein to solve the problem of this war for him. And as they are escorted down and out from the castle and into the light rain of the Shimmer Ward, they pass by a shaded corridor and Jester glimpses the tail of a red cloak. The Martinet, walking briskly down It and away, shadowed by his assistant. Jester can barely hear them, the words echoing down the corridor.

His deep voice is troubled. ‘—and Vence,’ he hisses, groans. ‘And I gave him an amulet. What a fool I am!’

The girl doesn’t disagree. ‘I warned you about him.’

‘I can’t dismiss someone so talented just because you say he’s slimy,’ the Martinet chides, exhausted. Clearly, they have had that discussion before. ‘And these...Mighty Nein? What do you make of them?’

The girl glances back over her shoulder before they turn the corner. Eyes lock once more with Jester’s, who now realises she has slowed to a stop, right in the middle of the corridor.

‘I don’t know,’ she says, thoughtful. Gentle. Not in a soft way, but delicate. Like a hand brushing dirt from a relic, interested in what lays beneath. ‘But I’ll be very interested to find out.’

//

Kamaruth Cottage is lovely. Warm and comfortable.

Something about it rubs Jester the wrong way. Maybe the way it aims for rustic but is far too pristine, too comfortable to really be rustic. Like it’s just pretending. A giant mimic, waiting to gobble them up.

She draws that idly in her notebook as they wait for dinner. A cottage, thatched eyebrows, a giant slobbering tongue as the red carpet leading to the front desk. A dozen window eyes staring.

Maybe it’s the way the theyre given seven rooms. Expected to split up. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Molly hasn’t let go of Yasha yet, doesn’t let go of her arm even when Fjord trades five hundred gold for a heavy tome he passes to her. They talk some, eat some. Nott drinks. Cad nearly falls asleep in his salad. Eventually, they make their way up to Caleb’s room to talk. To gauge their footing, and what he wants to do next.

For ten full minutes, Caleb passes over the room, taking time to examine it ceiling to floor for any manner of device or trap or something that should not be there. Behind him paces Caduceus, eyes gleaming with the familiar sheen of detect magic. They both turn up nothing.

Caleb sits and scratches at his arms and worries.

‘So,’ Fjord starts them off. ‘Big day, huh. I guess... Welcome back, Yasha.’ Fjord waves a hand toward her, or them, Molly still stuck to her side. Held tight in a hug.

‘Thank you. And... I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll take that apology,’ an unfamiliar voice says—harsh, and harshly amused—from behind them, from the window. Spinnjng, the Nein find that standing there, leaning back with her elbows braced against the sill, aggravatingly nonchalant, is the girl from the throne room. She looks a different without the robe. Smaller, thinner, and all in black and darker blues and greys, but it is unmistakably her.

In their room. Unheard. Unseen.

In the next second, Fjord has crossed the room, conjuring his blade and grasping the long hilt in both hands, pointed to her throat. Yasha has drawn the Judge. A burning of copper fills the room as Molly draws his blade across the skin of his forearm, scimitar lighting with white flame. Nott pulls her crossbow, the wire click, click, clicking as she wrenches it into the ready position.

Caleb just stares.

And Jester, she raises her hands, not sure exactly what she’s going to do when she’s exhausted like this. But if worst comes to worst, she has a hand axe.

‘Planning on killing the Martinet’s auxiliary, are we? Fun times in the Kamaruth Cottage. Didn’t know it was such a fun scene—’

Fjord presses his sword closer until it touches the skin of her throat. Still she just grins, unphased.

‘I don’t know what you think you overheard, but we have no plans on killing anyone,’

‘Maybe Trent,’ Molly hissés behind them all in Infernal.

‘Who doesn’t want to kill Trent?’ the girl answers in common. Ignoring Molly’s shock, she continues, very slowly, very patiently, very patronisingly, ‘The Martinet’s auxiliary is me. In case you didn’t know.’

‘Important position, is it? You’ll be missed, is that what you’re saying?’

‘Not really. To both. Just...letting you know because, and I’m gonna be honest—you seem well out of your fucking depth here.’

‘I don’t like this one,’ Molly decrees, opening in Common, since it seems she can understand his preferred language of disparagement. ‘Not one bit.’

‘I’m heartbroken,’ the girl sneers.

‘What you are is the one at sword point—and I know wizards. We’ve had time to rest now—we could take you.’ Jester winces at Fjord’s tone. Protective, he has gone harsh, gone with a face of stone to cover his shock, to cover their slip in letting her join them unnoticed.

‘This must be real hard for you but I’m gonna need you to use your head. For think-ing.’ She breaks the word apart like it might be too big for him, unfamiliar. ‘Even if you did beat me,’ she says, words drenched in disbelief, ‘there’s a whole city to get out of after that, all riled up after that attack. Whether I’m well-liked or not,’

‘Not.’

‘Missed or not,’ she amends with a shrug, ‘there’d be some real powerful people after your head if you killed me. So. Be smart about this and put. The sword. Away.’

For maybe the first time in his life, Fjord snarls, baring tooth and tusk.

She grins. ‘Is that a no?’

‘It’s a give me one good reason why we should trust you.’

It’s just a gut feeling but Jester doesn’t think that she will.

She watches as the girl tilts her head back almost lazily, before bringing it forward to crack into Fjord’s nose, his forehead. Fjord gets out a stuttering choke and as he stands there stunned, she ducks the sword and slips behind him, punches up the ladder of his spine. Fjord wheezes, breath punched out of him, and staggers around to face her.

By this point, Nott is screaming bloody murder, Caleb’s hand is wreathed in flame, Yasha has the Judge raised in both hands, Molly has both swords lit up, and the girl, Beauregard, is just standing there with her arm around a stunned Fjord and grinning.

‘As much as I’d honestly be stoked to go toe to toe with all of you—‘specially you, sweetheart,’ she says, throwing a wink and a kiss to Jester. Her eyes slide over to Yasha and her smile, somewhat salacious, turns harsh. ‘And you, Orphanmaker,’

Her eyes go black with blood as Molly barks something in guttural Infernal. Unlike so many that they’ve fought, she doesn’t panic. She settles back into a defensive posture, letting Fjord step away and out of reach; head cocked to listen to them, she waits out the sudden blindness, blinks the film of blood away.

Her eyes find Molly. Looks at the bleeding scars, the glowing blades, his harsh, panting breath. The way he stands in front of Yasha.

‘Now that is very interesting,’

‘Forgive us,’ Caleb says, finally says, his hand still wreathed in flames, blue eyes fixed on their guest, ‘but perhaps you will stop cataloguing us for just a moment, bitte, and tell us who you are. Because I do not think for one moment that you are the Martinet’s auxiliary.’

‘What do you think I am?’

‘A monk,’ Caleb says flatly.

‘I see I’ve found the brains of the operation. Bren, was it?’

‘It’s Caleb,’ Nott shrieks. She’s been holding her crossbow the entire time and now swings it up to let loose. A bolt pings from her crossbow, and the monk catches it, hisses when the tip scratches her arm. She looks from it to Nott. Waggles the bolt at her with a scowl.

‘Next time, I throw it back,’ she warns. Tucks It into the soft sash of her belt. ‘I’m keeping this.’

‘It’s Caleb,’ Nott says again.

She glances up from Nott to the man she is protecting—no other way to describe the way she stands in front of him, small body straining to cover as much of him as possible—and she nods.

‘Okay. Caleb, then. Good to know, I’ll make a note of that.’

‘I’m certain that you will,’ Caleb says with a hint of laughter to his tone. Resigned laughter, tired, but laughter none the less. ‘You know our names—you probably know far more than that, if I am to understand what it is the Cobalt Soul does.’

Beauregard nods, shrugs.

They stand in silence for a short while. Until she looks about, brows raised like, And? What?

‘He’s asking what your fucking name is,’ Fjord grits out from his place next to Caduceus.

‘You’re not still mad, are you?’

‘I think you broke my nose.’

‘I definitely did,’

‘Beauregard,’ Jesterer blurts. ‘That’s what the Martinet called you.’

Beauregard looks surprised, then pleased, then annoyed. ‘Yeah, he does. But you lot shouldn’t. It’s just Beau.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Beauregard is a stupid fucking name and if you use it, I’ll punch your face in.’

‘...Got a last name?’

‘Do you?’ Fjord looks away first.

‘Why does the Martinet call you that if you hate it so much?’

Beau smiles. It’s a bit macabre with the stream of dried blood like a tear track down her cheeks. ‘Poor Ludinus. He really hasn’t much luck in the assistant department. His annex is a fucking cultist, and his auxiliary is a spy. Once again—because you seem a bit slow—I am the auxiliary.’

‘You’re a spy.’

‘Hey, not so slow after all. Good job. I’ll find you a sticker or something, a little pin that says well done.’

‘Fuck. Off.’

‘I do not understand,’

‘Pretty simple, Caleb my man, I’m the auxiliary and I’m a spy-‘

‘Ja, that I understand. What I don’t understand is why you are telling us this.’

Beau’s eyes slide across to Yasha again. ‘Let’s just day that I’m not the only one who noticed you’re out of your depth. Some people really dig that kind of thing. Vulnerability. Innocence. Guilt. Whatever they can manipulate.’ Caleb’s cheek twitches. ‘I’d like to say the Archives is above all that shit.’ She doesn’t elaborate. Just says, ‘The High Curstor pulled my from Ludinus watch, re-assigned me to you lot. I’m supposed to help you with this whole relic thing.’

‘And why would we agree to that?’

‘Couple reasons. One, you’re out of your depth,’

‘Yes, we got that one,’ Fjord grumbles

‘Two, I have access to the entirety of the Soul’s archive of research. Three, I’m a monk, I’m badass, I have like a billion abs.’

‘How is that a bargaining chip?’

‘How is it not?’ She hikes her shirt up to show them off.

Jester blinks. Comes around from behind the bed to examine them up close. And maybe to add an extra level of defense between Beau and Yasha.

‘Whoa,’

‘No! No whoa, Jester,’

‘I mean, you have to admit, Fjord, that’s really impressive. You should be very proud,’ Jester tells her, nodding.

‘Thank you, thank you, I am.’

‘There is no doubt in my mind you would be a helpful ally,’ Caleb says. ‘I only have a question as to what you, or your Archive, gets out of this arrangement. Forgive me, but I have not known people here to do things out of the kindness of their heart.’

Beau lets her shirt and her smile drop. ‘You’re not wrong. The Soul gets two things outta this—one, we love to fuck with the Assembly. The more dirt we can get on them, the better we feel—and everything I’ve heard about this relic and Ikithon—‘ There’s no way she misses Caleb’s flinch. ‘—smacks of some real fucked up shit. The Soul is all about weeding that out, putting a stop to corruption and all that.’

‘What a fine job it has done so far,’ Caleb murmurs, barely more than a whisper.

‘You said you get two things. What is the second?’ That, of all people, is Yasha.

Beau meets her multi-coloured eyes squarely. ‘The Cobalt Soul gets you.’

[princeofvelvet]

chu wanning+ mo ran seductive atmosphere? ❤️❤️❤️

I really don’t know what happened here. This was supposed to be like 300 words... It’s actually an idea I’d had for a while and I took this opportunity to finally write it out, so the “atmosphere” ended up being my attempts at teacher/student flirting.. Hope you enjoy some post-canon roleplay.. also theyre visiting sisheng peak for some reason, don’t worry about it!

Send me a ship + an atmosphere

Through the windows of the Red Lotus Pavilion, the evening glow spilled into the room; lethargic shadows stretched through the floor as the sun began to set. 

Mo Ran seemed to be deep in thought as he lit the candles and sat at his desk, very proper, like it was just another day of lessons, when he and Chu Wanning were nothing but student and teacher. He’d pined for Wanning here, watching and listening to him; he’d also come to hate him here, and, more than once, had almost lost him. 

Chu Wanning sat next to him and set down the two jars of pear blossom white wine they’d bought. 

“Shizun…” Mo Ran called, his voice a pitch higher and his dimples deep and alluring. 

Chu Wanning raised an eyebrow at him. Though Mo Ran’s face had matured from that fifteen year-old disciple’s, he retained that air of innocence in his eyes. The familiarity in his voice brought back the days when they had sat here with a jar of wine, and Chu Wanning’s heart stirred.

“Are you done with your lessons for the day?” Chu Wanning teased, opening the first jar of wine. 

Mo Ran laughed, playing along. “Much ashamed, this disciple has forgotten everything. Afraid Shizun will have to repeat his lesson.” 

Chu Wanning blinked a few times as his brain tried to catch up with what Mo Ran was doing. Thankfully he was a fast learner, so he set the pear blossom wine aside, chewing away the smile from his lips.

“How are you at controlling your spiritual weapon?” Chu Wanning asked. The teacher-tone he hadn’t used in years caused his heart rate to pick up. 

“Much ashamed,” said Mo Ran, scratching his nose, “I have not learned it.”

It was good that Chu Wanning had so much experience holding back his reactions, because he almost couldn’t help snorting at Mo Ran’s shamelessness. His cheeks burned, partly from the heat of the candles, mostly due to this silly game he was getting caught up in. How old were they? How many years married? Chu Wanning stood up, flicking his sleeves to signal Mo Ran to follow.

“Very well, I will have to teach you personally.” 

“Shizun, are we going to spar?” The candles glimmered inside Mo Ran’s deep black eyes, like a fire had ignited inside him. He’d only gotten the opportunity to exchange blows with Chu Wanning a handful of times, but it was always riveting; Chu Wanning’s swift moves, hard breaths, pained grunts... 

TianWen’s glow made Chu Wanning’s face light up, sharpening his features. Though the light in the room was dim, Chu Wanning looked to be bathed in sunlight, even slightly glistening with a thin layer of sweat. 

“Don’t be silly, this room is too small. If you can’t control it well, you’ll start a fire. I’m teaching you the basics first,” Chu Wanning mocked with half a smile. 

“The basics,” Mo Ran repeated, somewhat disappointed. 

“Mmhm. Lesson one, pick up the jar,” said Chu Wanning. TianWen stretched, elegant and unhurried, and curled around the pear blossom white wine. Not a single drop spilled on the way to Chu Wanning’s hand. “Like so.” After demonstrating, he brought the mouth of the jar to his lips, eyes never leaving Mo Ran’s, as he took a long and seductive swig that made his Adam’s apple roll. All of a sudden, Mo Ran was thirsty.  

“Go on,” said Chu Wanning, “summon JianGui. Do as I did.” 

A red glow flowed from Mo Ran’s hand. His JianGui was fierce and not as elegant as Wanning’s TianWen, but after having it for years, he could perform the most delicate and precise of tasks, as well as the mightier ones. And yet, as he let it loose towards WanNing, JianGui rode the air with impatience and a bit of carelessness. 

Chu Wanning opened his mouth; he was about to say that the jar Mo Ran should fetch was the one on the table, but as JianGui wrapped around his wrist timidly, Chu Wanning just looked down instead.

“Ah, this disciple is still useless with his weapon. I meant to grab the wine.” 

Chu Wanning was about to reply when he felt a pull on his wrist that made his arm jolt and spill liquor on his clothes. He tried to maintain balance, but in the end still landed on Mo Ran’s hard chest.

“Ah!” 

“Sorry, Shizun, I did not mean to-” Mo Ran grabbed his waist, as if to steady him; his grip so strong it made Chu Wanning squirm. He was flushed. For a moment, he was not Chu Wanning, Mo Ran’s husband, but his teacher who was constantly teased by this brat of a disciple. 

“Mo WeiYu!” Chu Wanning took a step back, assessing the situation. His pristine white robes had turned see-through, and were clinging to every curve of his body; cold liquid made his skin icy and his nipples perk up. 

“Yes, Shizun.”

Chu Wanning shot him a fierce glance, but Mo Ran was not returning the look, his eyes busily tracing the mess he’d made.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

Like he’d been slapped, Mo Ran’s attention returned to Chu Wanning’s face. “This disciple wouldn’t dare!” 

Chu Wanning was shaking from cold and embarrassment. He summoned TianWen, this time coiling it around Mo Ran’s wrists, and pulled. Mo Ran fell to his knees.

“Tell me again, did you spill liquor on your Shizun on purpose?” 

TianWen didn’t tighten like it would if Chu Wanning was really curious to know. Though perhaps it was that he already knew the truth, and this was nothing but a threat to drag out this little game. Mo Ran kept quiet.

“Very well,” Chu Wanning said. “A thousand lashes from TianWen, unless you confess to your crimes.” 

Mo Ran’s heart was close to beating out of his chest looking at those sharp phoenix features, cold and threatening and digging into Mo Ran’s heart like icicles. Mo Ran was stunned, and for a long moment he could not answer. 

TianWen loosened. Fearing for his life, Mo Ran grabbed it, rolling his wrists to tengle it. “This disciple’s sins...” he began. 

Chu Wanning listened intently; the hand that was holding the pear blossom wine rested on his hip. He looked exactly like the picture of his Shizun he’d always kept in his mind, before he learned of his mistakes. Inside him, his fifteen year-old self, and his thirty year-old in the body of his fifteen year-old self, were stunned. 

“This disciple can summon and control JianGui just fine.”

“And?” 

“And this disciple did pour liquid on Shizun on purpose,” Mo Ran looked down at his wrists. Not ashamed, more like burning up from the inside out, with desires that had never gone away. In his happily married life, he fully embraced his love and want for Chu Wanning, but as part of this role play they, seemed enticingly forbidden once more.

“And why did you do that?” 

“This disciple… Because every time this disciple sees Shizun, this disciple’s body reacts in shameful ways!” He confessed, raising his head once more and letting his Wanning, his Shizun, see the hidden flame within. The craving that had once made him scream and swear towards the heavens that he would fuck Chu Wanning to death. 

Mo Ran exerted force and began pulling on TianWen, wrapping it several times around his wrist. Chu Wanning was still shocked from Mo Ran’s expression; he couldn’t put up resistance, and fell on Mo Ran’s lap. 

“Mo WeiYu,” he gulped, afraid his student would see his arousal. “I’m your teacher, this is inappropriate.” Chu Wanning was about to break, but he wasn’t ready to lose. He avoided eye-contact with Mo Ran, trying to hide his pink ears. 

“Then why hasn’t Shizun pushed me off?” 

Chu Wanning’s eyes went wide, and he looked up to find Mo Ran’s triumphant smile, showing off his dimples. 

Mo Ran leaned in for a deep kiss.

[fragmentedink-archived]

OC Descriptions: Nathaniel Arwaine

ive been getting a clearer and clearer image of Nate in my head. esp his eyes. like. okay you know Diego in the new Dora movie, those EYES are so like nates!! theyre slightly narrower and sharper with really pretty eyelashes??? if that makes sense???? And when he smiles they crinkle from laugh lines

His brows are also done(tm) and are groomed and so polished and Nice. And his hair goes I think mid shoulder blade/ mid chest?? It’s thick, but also so weightless and silky and he braids it so prettily?? and his hair is black, of course. its like. the blackest black I can possibly think of. like. all color has been sucked out of it and the only thing left is the black.

A LOT LIKE THAT

his face is also more angular, very,, feminine too. It’s not brash or really bold(tm) lines. but more delicate features (he could totally pull of drag i bet tbh). and his nose is pretty straight, too. doesnt have the broken bridge like his brothers’ noses aglhsagsla. His lips are like,,, a mix? of thin and full? if that makes sense??? almost andy blacks but not. He is Always smiling in some way. if not completely smiling, its a faint smile with eye crinkles(tm)

hes clean shaven. tbh idk if he can even grow a mustache or facial hair all that well. i cannot physically make myself imagine Nate with any kind of facial hair

and his skin is a few steps above brown brown. a Golden Brown, but doesnt have a lot of like. chest hair. and his tattoos are colorful and very meaningful. his tattoos were, in a way, a method of self harm. to hurt himself without hurting himself. to let him feel pain. but each tattoo is very carefully chosen and with a Meaning.

He has a tattoo of a hummingbird on the inside of his bicep which means  overcoming difficult times, but also joy and hope and peace

And then he’s 6′2, and he’s described as ‘stronger than he looks’ a lot. But he is also very Fit and built like a dancer. Long limbs and has very graceful movements. His hands are slender, fingers long. He Does have callouses on his fingers, from handling art supplies and weapons (not often but you know, warrior training and all that) 

His wings are Very shiny and shimmery and like a peacocks. his feathers are kinda like? a mix of purple and blue?

ANYWAYS

Nate is super super pretty and Bay is very very gay

[imaginedilestrade]

Unitum. (4/12)

Unitum- (Latin) United- adjective; joined together politically, for a common purpose, or by common feelings.

Summary: Two kingdoms wage war against another. You are on one side while Greg stands with another…

Warnings: None.

A/N: ohhh chapter four already! I wonder how long this happy spell is going to last 😏😂 As always, I’d love to know what you guys think 😊 Have a great weekend! ❤️

Missed the last part? Catch up here

——————————

Chapter 4

——————

The next morning you headed down to the throne room with scrolls of parchment in your arms to meet with your brother and Sebastian. “My king,” you bowed your head before him and then turned to Sebastian who mirrored your actions as you greeted each other. “I have maps and plans concerning our approach from the north east.”

“Wonderful,” Jim smiled “Just as wonderful as that venison last night!” He got up of his throne and kissed your forehead “My best archer. Dinner was exquisite last night thanks to you.”

You smiled and bowed your head slightly “Shall we discuss the plans in private?” Sebastian asked looking around at various guards and people in the throne room. Ever since the incident with Anderson, he had been on edge.

You followed him out to a private room that was hidden away by a bookcase in the west side of the castle. You placed down the pieces of parchment and Jim glanced over them all. “I think attacking from the north east is our best chance to gain land. They are not very well defended from that area.”

“I think you’re right,” he proudly smiled “You should prepare arrangements.” You turned with Sebastian to leave but Jim called you back. You sent Sebastian a small nod and he left the two of you alone.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I spoke with Molly this morning while you were blissfully snoring your head off,” you narrowed your eyes before rolling them “She told me you were very ‘smiley’” he made air quotations with his hands.

You blinked before your brow raised without you realising “What do you mean by that? Is there something against me smiling now?”

Jim shook his head and pursed his lips “No, I’m very happy to see that natural smile grace your face again. I know fathers death was hard on you-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off with a broken smile. Your mother had died when you were a infant so you didn’t have the opportunity to get to know her but you and your father were inseparable. Jim reached a hand out and placed it on your arm “I’m fine.”

“You also said that when you were shot in the leg with an arrow…” he trailed off.

You let out a long sigh “That hurt less than the loss of our father,” your mouth changed into a line as you pulled your arm away “I have to go.”

“Where are you going?” Jim asked following you out.

“I want to go for a walk and clear my mind. I’ll see you at dinner.”

—

After grabbing your bow and arrows you walked off into the forest in the quiet lands with images of your father replaying in your mind. He’d often place you up onto his shoulders and spend the day walking through the forest.

You smiled to yourself as your feet crunched the sticks and leaves below your feet, the leaves had now abandoned the trees. The morning fog had cleared but the forest was still eerie. You waited in the same spot you met Greg yesterday, you’d wait for an hour or two to see if he turned up. After an hour of sitting you saw Doe prancing through the foliage, but that was the only sign of life you had saw.

You sighed and stood up, the sky was dulling over and you wanted to get back to the castle before it rained, if indeed it did. You attempted to leave but a hand grasped onto your shoulder, making you jump and turn.

You tackled the hand to the ground and placed your foot to the persons chest, it was a natural instinct “You shouldn’t sneak up on me!”

Greg grabbed your foot and pulled you down before getting on top of you and pinning your arms above your head “You shouldn’t put your foot on me…” he said almost mockingly.

You furrowed a brow and twisted your leg around his, managing to flip him over and sit on him while pinning his hands by his head. “You shouldn’t sit on top of me…” you twisted his words and Greg smiled from underneath you.

“Well,” he sent you a smouldering smirk “If I knew how pretty you looked on top of me, I’d let you top me all the time…maiden.”

Your brows raised and you quickly got off of him with a face that was turning redder by the minute. You cleared your throat “I do not think thou would be privileged enough to have that honour…peasant.” Greg bit his lip as he smiled and nodded his head at your playful jibe, he deserved that one.

Greg bent down and plucked a late blossoming honeysuckle flower for you “From the peasant,” he smirked.

You extended your hand and took it from him before bringing the flower to your nose to inhale the sweet smell. “Thank you,” your cheeks flushed pink “That is very kind of you, I’ll press it when I return home.”

“Shall we go for a stroll?” He asked.

You nodded with a smile and took the lead through the forest, deeper into the quiet lands. You looked up to the sky and Greg laughed “Are you looking for dragons?” He teased.

You turned and walked backwards so you could still face Greg “Nay they are but a myth!” You laughed “The only dragons you will find around here are men with a raging fire in their bellies.”

“Pretty and funny…I must be the luckiest peasant on the planet.” He walked a little quicker than you and spun around the trunk of the tree, he playfully hid from you and you moved your head back and forth with a grin trying to keep up with him.

“You’re not just a peasant!” He stopped and you managed to have a proper look at him from the other side of the tree “You’re Greg,” you softly smiled at him.

Your stomach flipped when his hand moved from the bark to brush over your fingers. He lingered them for a few moments before pulling away “Do you think you can shoot that birch tree?” He asked. You looked around and had to squint your eyes to see the tree he was talking about.

You did like a challenge.

You placed the honeysuckle flower behind your ear and grabbed your bow and placed an arrow in it, you pulled back and took in a gulp of air before releasing the arrow and hitting the tree. When you turned to look at Greg his jaw had almost fallen to the floor. “How do you do it?” He asked, flabbergasted.

You shrugged “Practice I guess. You try,” you handed him your bow and an arrow “Show me what you can do.”

Greg took the bow and got into position, you furrowed a brow and gently placed your hand on his shoulder “Relax this, it’s too high,” you whispered in his ear and delicately guided his shoulder down. Greg felt his fingers tremble after feeling your breath dance over his ear and neck. You placed a hand over his and mirrored his moves “You’re too tense,” you observed aloud “Relax.” You felt his muscles ease and when they did you whispered in his ear again “Release.”

Greg did what you said and the arrow landed near the arrow you had shot moments before. “You did it!” You cheered and clapped your hands together in delight.

“All thanks to you!” Greg bashfully smiled and handed back your bow which you placed on your back. Greg leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek “A thanks,” he whispered before pulling back “Shall we fetch your arrows?”

You swallowed away the nervousness building in your throat and nodded. You walked over and fetched them “I should be heading home,” you sent him a thin lipped smile.

“Aye I should be going home myself, fair maiden,” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re never going to drop that are you?”

Greg shook his head “No, never.”

“Good day, Greg.” You began to walk back before he stopped you.

“It was a good day because I saw you,” he confessed. “Will I see you tomorrow again?”

You bit your lip and glanced down to your wrist that was being held by Greg. A part of you was sure he could feel your rapid pulse under your skin.

“Yes,” you whispered.

A huge smile spread from one side of Greg’s face to the other. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles “Until tomorrow…”

He let go of your hand and walked off. You brought your knuckles to your mouth and gently pressed them against your lips.

“Until tomorrow indeed…”

——————

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