#voice for two hours. its therapeutic.

[captaincleverusernamehere]

Finally got to play dnd for the first time in over a month and Something Happened to me at that table like. The NPCs just. took over. It was amazing. Kelek the incel wizard and Uni the flamboyant unicorn and Wally Nutt and Poppy Corn the two most obviously in love gnomes on the planet and Susan the hardass boss who only is nice to her wife Angela the forensic chemist who physically and vocally is Lin Manuel Miranda. I love improv I love acting I cannot go too long without them or I explode.

[lechrts]

Stuck With You. ✷ Ollie Bearman

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader

Summary: When doing laundry at University on a late Tuesday night turns into something completely unexpected.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Disclaimer/s: University!au , forced proximity, fluff! ^_^

Vera's Voice! read this prompt on a boy and blog from like ages ago and it altered my brain chemistry so i had to write one myself. :3 Smirk. hope u enjoy!!!!

Tonight, you just wanted some peace—your roommate was at her boyfriend's and you finally had the alone time to deal with the overflowing basket of clothes that had been sitting at the edge of your bed for too long.

Finals week was the worst thing imaginable. There was so much to do that it ate at the back of your mind. No matter where you looked, just exams after exams after projects after projects. Just no escape.

Yeah sure, maybe the holidays was something to look forward to, but there was still another week to get through after.

The laundry room was usually this quiet on a late Tuesday night, save for the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You didn’t mind. In fact, you’d picked this late hour on purpose. The place was usually crowded earlier in the evening, full of students loudly catching up or overall just not one available machine in sight.

Balancing the basket against your hip, you nudged the laundry room door open and stepped inside. Rows of washers and dryers gleamed under the artificial light and not a single person was in sight. It was almost calming, in its own weird way.

You walked toward the machine where your last wash of clothes sat. Dropping your basket to the floor with a small sigh, you waited for the last few minutes to finish up, watching the little window as your clothes swirled harmoniously which was oddly therapeutic.

The sound of the door creaking open behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see another late-night procrastinator like yourself.

And of course, a boy walked in, carrying his own basket of laundry.

He looked a little disheveled, as if he’d been buried in textbooks all day and had barely remembered to do his laundry at the last minute. His messy brunette hair stuck up in all directions, and there was a faint shadow of tiredness under his eyes.

He caught your glance, offering a small, polite smile as he walked past. “Hi,” He said, his voice low but friendly.

“Hi,” You replied, giving a little nod before retreating your gaze back to your laundry.

You didn’t think much of it at first—just two strangers in a shared space—but as you continued attempting to let your mind wander off, you became increasingly aware of him.

The way he moved, quietly but efficiently, as he loaded and unloaded his own washer a few machines over. The way his fingers fumbled with a stray sock that kept falling out of his basket.

You tried not to stare, but when you caught his gaze again by accident, he gave you another faint smile. This time, it lingered a little longer.

You felt a small warmth bloom in your chest, but you quickly shook it off.

It was just a smile...

Lock in. That was nothing.

The two of you were stood in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft clatter of clothes and the occasional beeping of buttons being pressed.

He finished loading his washing machine not long after and leaned back as well, standing a few feet away from you. The room wasn’t big, and the silence between you felt almost… companionable.

It wasn’t until your washer beeped that the quiet was broken. You moved to transfer your clothes to a dryer, and as if on cue..

So did he.

You both ended up standing in front of dryers a couple of machines apart, working side by side.

At one point, as you tossed in a handful of clothes, you glanced his way. He was doing the same, and when your eyes met, he smiled again—a little wider this time.

Now, with both of your dryers finally running, you both wandered toward the door, baskets now empty. You were so ready to head back to your dorm and get in bed to wait for the dryer to stop...

But, as he reached for the door handle first, giving it a firm push...

It didn’t budge.

Frowning, he tried again, this time pulling instead of pushing.

Nothing.

“Uhm… I think it’s locked?”

“Huh?” You stepped forward, your brow furrowing. “That can’t be right. It doesn’t lock from the inside.”

“Well, apparently it does..” He said, his voice almost playful, probably trying to lighten the mood of this worst case scenario as you rattled the handle again for good measure.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, already planning to call for help—only to see let out an unfortunate groan. “Well. My phone is dead.”

You winced. “I left mine in my dorm.”

You both stood there for a moment, staring at the uncooperative door as the realization sank in.

“So… we’re stuck?” You said finally.

The boy exhaled a soft laugh, brushing his hand through his messy hair. “Seems like it... but, could be worse,” He said, his tone casual.

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “How?”

He shrugged, leaning his hip against a counter and crossing his arms. “I mean, we’re not trapped in, like, a storage closet or something. At least we’ve got chairs.."

You couldn’t help but snort at that, shaking your head. “Yeah, you lost me." Your arms crossed as you leaned against the wall behind you, staring at the offending door.

"Definitely not how I saw my night going.”

“Me neither,” He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I was kind of hoping to get this done, crawl back to my dorm, and pretend the day didn’t happen.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Rough day?”

“You could say that.” He tilted his head slightly toward you. “What about you?”

"Finals have been ruthless." You said calmly with a shrug. "Was hoping to cram some psych notes into my head for my exam tomorrow.. or, today, I mean." You continued.. adjusting your sentence since it was already “tomorrow.”

“Psych major, I'm assuming?” He asked lightly, his lips twitching up at the corners.

A small laugh escaped your tired body. "Ding ding." You said with a nod. "And let me guess, Engineering?" Your eyebrow quirked after giving him a good glance up and down.

"What?! How can you tell?" Your educated guess shocked him, but you laughed again.

"Well.. considering it's on your sweatshirt..." A small grin continued to linger on your lips as he looked down, probably feeling a little stupid now.

He glanced at his sweatshirt, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he realized the giant block letters spelling out ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT. “Wow,” He muttered, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “So observant.”

“Thank you,” You said, biting back a laugh and matching his sarcastic tone. “I like to think it’s one of my best traits.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and a little self-deprecating. “And here I was thinking I had some kind of mysterious vibe going on.”

“Honestly, nothing about you is screaming mysterious to me,” You teased, crossing your arms. “You're wearing race car pajama pants.”

"Oh, so you're a hater?" He said in mock offense. "How dare you."

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “The biggest."

“This whole scenario was actually the highlight of my day until you made fun of my outfit,” He said, his tone light and teasing, though there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your chest flutter.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your head back with a contagious smile. “That’s kind of sad, honestly.”

He laughed, a low, easy sound that filled the quiet room. “When your day starts with an 8 a.m. lab and ends with getting locked in a laundry room, the bar for excitement is pretty low.”

"Fair point." You gave him that with a nod. "Still, I feel like you should set your standards a little higher."

He tilted his head, as if considering you carefully, his smirk softening into something gentler. "Maybe I would if the bar wasn’t already set with you."

Your stomach plummeted. You blinked at him, thrown off entirely, and all you managed was a weak, “What?”

His grin widened, like he was enjoying every second of this. “You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to mask how flustered you felt. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

“Depends,” he replied, his voice smooth, gaze lingering on you in a way that made it hard to breathe. “Is it working?”

You scoffed, desperate to regain control of the conversation. “Maybe... and this works on all the girls, I’m assuming?”

He didn’t even blink, his expression shifting into something softer but no less confident. “I don’t know,” He said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s my first time trying. What do you think?”

Your nervous walls were crumbling but you felt like you couldn’t fold just yet. “You are such a tease!”

The boy grinned at your flustered response, clearly enjoying himself. “Maybe,” he teased lightly, before his voice dropped just enough to make your stomach flip, “But I’m only a tease when the company is worth it.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but no words came. You were done for—absolutely, embarrassingly done for.

“Is this your idea of passing the time?” You finally quipped, trying to sound unimpressed, though your voice wavered just enough to betray you. “Flirt with the first poor soul who happens to get locked in with you?”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up into an unmistakable smirk. “Only if she’s pretty.”

You froze. His words hung in the air for a beat too long, your mind scrambling to come up with something—anything—to say back. But you weren’t quick enough.

That'll do it.

“Ah.” He smiled, and there was something about the way he looked at you, like he was taking in every tiny detail—the curve of your blush-tinted cheeks, the way your eyes darted away, your nervous grip on your empty laundry basket. “Made you blush.”

“I—” You opened your mouth, then immediately closed it, flustered beyond saving. A laugh bubbled up from your chest instead, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You're crazy.. Are you usually this bold before even knowing someone's name..?"

“Right.. well, do I by any chance…” He paused for dramatic effect, his expression as cheesy as it was charming, “Get to know this pretty girl’s name?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and suddenly, the room felt warmer than it had five seconds ago. It was ridiculous how easily he had you cornered—like every playful remark of his chipped away at your resolve.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a helpless little laugh. “Wow. You’re a dork.”

“And yet,” He grinned, holding his gaze steady on yours, “You haven’t walked away yet.”

“Where am I supposed to go? We’re locked in,” You shot back, trying to sound exasperated, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

He chuckled under his breath, that same maddening confidence never faltering. “Fair point. But still… the name?”

You hesitated, biting your lip to stop the smile that threatened to break through again. Just say it, you’re embarrassing yourself at this point.

Finally, you sighed and muttered your name quietly through a small grin, hoping it didn’t sound too flustered.

His smile widened like he’d won some kind of victory. “There we go,” he said softly, like he was tucking the sound of your name into his memory. “And I'm Oliver." A pause.

"My friends call me Ollie, but, you can call me yours." His laugh was immediate, seeming like he couldn't keep a straight face saying that bit. It was clear sarcasm, but yet, it made you blush intensely. Your heart had skipped practically hundreds of beats.

Your jaw dropped, a laugh of shock escaped your mouth before the two of you bursted into a fit of giggles. "You did not just say that." Your voice squeaked, trying to calm down from the sudden serotonin boost.

“Not my proudest moment..” He giggled, his grin widening with that same impossible confidence. “But I’d think it landed pretty well.”

“You’re delusional." You shot back, but you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped, no matter how hard you tried to sound annoyed.

Ollie leaned back slightly, his expression playful but observant. “Maybe. But I still got you to laugh, didn’t I?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Only because it was that bad. Easily the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “That’s harsh.”

“Just being real,” You corrected, biting back a smile as you watched him pretend to recover.

“Well, clearly I’m going to need to try harder,” He sighed, already looking far too pleased with himself. “If I can’t impress you with words, I’ll just have to take you out, unfortunately." Another grin reappeared on his lips.

Way too fucking smooth.

"Take me out?" You asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a flutter in your chest you couldn’t ignore. Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the excitement you were trying to hide. "And where do you plan on taking me, Oliver?"

His eyes glinted mischievously, and a playful warmth spread through the space between you. "How does coffee after finals sound?" He suggested, his voice smooth, almost like he was offering you a secret only the two of you shared. "I know a new place that opened down town."

You felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching for a moment. Coffee after finals? You couldn’t help but grin, your nerves melting away as his suggestion settled in. Something to finally look forward to, thanks to him.

You tried to play it cool, but inside, you were already picturing the two of you laughing over steaming cups, the world outside fading to a quiet hum.

“That sounds…” You softly grinned, feeling like a schoolgirl caught up in something way more exciting than just coffee. “That sounds nice.” You smiled shyly, only for your moment of calm to be interrupted by a loud clunk of the door handle.

A voice from the hallway cut through the air. "Oh no, not again." The RA appeared, shaking his head with a grin as he unlocked the door.

"You two get stuck? Happens all the time, you know. These doors lock automatically after 2AM."

You both turned toward him, trying to suppress your sudden surprise, already knowing what was coming. The RA gave you both an amused look as he held the door open.

“Well, doesn't seem like you two had the worst time..” He chuckled. “Carry on. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you so you can grab your laundry.”

You shot Ollie an amused glance. With the door now unlocked, you quickly made your way toward the dryers, laughing quietly as you grabbed the last of your clothes. The quiet, mundane task felt oddly intimate, especially with him standing beside you, his eyes lingering on you in that way that made everything feel more significant.

“So, after finals, you and me?” Oliver said softly, almost as though he was testing the waters again.

You shot him a playful look, feeling that flutter again, but this time, you didn’t try to hide it. “Yeah, you’ve got a date.”

He grinned wider than ever. “I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”

"Did you need my number...?" You quirked a brow, nearly laughing as he almost forgot a crucial detail.

Ollie blinked, his grin faltering for just a moment before his eyes lit up with realization. “Right, that might help,” He said with a sheepish chuckle, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you. 'Wait.. it's dead." He suddenly remembered.

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "Come with me back to my dorm and I'll give you my number real quick." You offered with a kind expression.

A playful glint in his eyes was visible as he smirked. "Inviting me to your dorm already? Let me take you out on our date, at least!" He mocked as you rolled your eyes in disbelief, but your sweet smile gave away the fluster behind it all.

"Such a dork." You snickered, brushing past him as he was quick to follow behind anyways.

likes, comments, and rebogs are appreciated! ^_^ , i fear he was giving bold frat boy which wasn't my intention but WHOOPS!... it's okay i hope.

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox

[peanutbutterwrites]

My Good Looking Boy - Part One

warnings for series: angst, struggles with self worth and self esteem, issues with appearance, childhood trauma, and mentions of death and murder.

summary: taking place after the southern raiders, zuko and katara finally learn to understand each other a bit more and long held on to feelings come to the surface. the gaang go and watch the ember island play and chaos ensues with katara's feelings.

part one - part two

authors note: here is the awaited first part! nothing crazy will happen in this part just because i'm trying to build a foundation on the slight heistance of acceptance between zuko and katara and expose the flaws in katara and aang going further into a relationship. i hope there's no major errors as i've read it a million times myself, but it is not beta read. please, let me know what you think and send me your thoughts and requests! i am open to criticism but please be kind to me lol. also let me know if you wanna be on a taglist for this series. thank you guys ~

word count: 1.8 k

Summertime in the fire nation was beautiful to see, the exotic flowers were in bloom and there was plenty to gather and hunt in the forest near camp. But one thing that summer did mean, was heat. Rays from the sun began beating down as early as six and were relentless until seven in the evening. Being a night owl meant Katara could spend a lot of her time in the cool light of the moon, late into the hours of the night. But it also meant a rude awakening when she rose at ten and it was already blisteringly hot. Groaning awake, she threw an arm to cover her eyes and felt the crease of her elbow sticky with sweat already.

“Ew, come on really?” she mumbled sleepily as she peeled the patchwork blanket from her balmy skin. Unsticking some of her hair from the nape of her neck, she rose from the tent to begin a long, hot day. Opening the curtains with a loud flap, the sun blinded her briefly before resting her eyes on the makeshift camp that the group had formed. Luckily, Sokka, Toph and Suki were all still sleeping so Katara didn’t feel too guilty about her habit of sleeping in. Yawning and making sure her wraps were tight, Katara stretched and began the laundry that she would have to do. “I need to gather food for dinner tonight, fix Suki’s blanket, teach Aang his lesson…” she mumbled, thinking out loud while she worked. As soon as she had all the blankets and clothes that needed washing, laundry was a daily occurrence thanks to the heat and dirt, she made her way down to the lake nearby camp. 

The journey there was beautiful and pleasantly uneventful, but the need for cool water spurred her on and hindered her ability to appreciate the scenery. Once she finally arrived at the beautiful lake, she waded knee deep into the water and allowed the full, woven basket to float towards her. The lake lay under the cool shade of a carved out mountain with lush greenery growing all throughout it. It was beautiful to see such life within the fire nation, Katara had always thought it would be barren and depressing. Using a long, flat rock as support for the clean clothes,  she breathed in and out as the gentle glide of her hands wove the water in and out of the fabric. The push and pull of the arm motion became therapeutic, and not too long after she began she was lost in her own thoughts. So lost in fact, she missed the rustling of the nearby leaves and the airy laughter floating its way into the clearing. 

“Yeah! It was incredible right? Oh good morning Katar-” but her attention snapped just in time for a needle-thin icicle to hover right in front of the intruder's nose. “Whoa! It's just us.” Aang said as he brushed a large plant out of his way and walked with a bounce in his step toward her. 

“Oh! I'm sorry, I was in my own world.” Katara dropped the icicle immediately in favor of returning to her former activity. “What are you doing out here? Didn’t you have practice this morning?” 

“Yes, he did.” A rich, gravely voice rang out. It was quieter than Aangs and still held some apprehension. Katara raised her head to meet golden eyes.

“Oh, hello Zuko.” she said in a quiet greeting. Relations with Zuko had been strained to say the least. Katara spent the better half of the summer hating his guts and only recently had the formed common ground with the firebender. And by recently, she meant a little over a week at most. Finally accepting that his kindness and sincerity were, well, sincere; Katara was still finding it difficult to adjust to being comfortable around Zuko. 

“Yeah! I did so great today, it was actually Zuko’s suggestion to come down here!” Aang bounded towards the water, taking off his robes in a fluid movement as he did so. Katara’s eyes flickered from Aang’s juvenile behavior with a fond smile on her face, back to Zuko. Noticing a light flush across his cheeks, 

“Zuko? Are you okay? It’s quite hot today, why don’t you get in the water?” But the color only intensified. 

“Uh yes, it is rather hot isn't it? I should get in.” Katara nodded while lightly giggling at him as he stood stiff as a board. Snorting at his behavior, she went back to focusing on the back and forth of the water she used to wash their laundry. Listening to Aang's babbling she hmm’d and oh’d in all the right spots about his stories of today’s lesson, about how wonderful he was getting at firebending. In her defense, she was fully involved in her work, focussing heavily on her job. That was, until a certain jerkbender decided to join them. Zuko derobed without any flourish, but Katara had a hard time focussing after the fact. Her breath fumbled and her heartbeat worked in a stuttering pattern. Her stomach felt awkward and didn’t it suddenly feel hotter out?  Sinking slowly into the water, Zuko waded his way over to where Katara was working, forcing her to end her gawking. What the hell were you thinking about, Katara? Get a grip! Aang’s laughter could be heard reverberating off the walls of the carved out side of the cliff where the lake formed at the bottom, and Zuko finally settled on a ledge of rock, not too far from Katara. “So,” he began, “what have you been up to?” Katara fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, you know me I’m a late riser but somebody needed to get this laundry done.”

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, I could help you know.” he said sheepishly. “I feel bad with you doing all the work around here.”

“Well at least someone acknowledges it. You know, the occasional “wow thanks Katara!” would suffice.” She ranted, clasping her hands in a prayer position while exaggeratingly batting her eyes in mock praise.

“I’m serious though, I want to help.” 

“Please, you and all your princely training isn’t going to help here.” he blushed a bright red and hung his head at the obvious statement. He had neglected to remember that to help with laundry he needed to know how to do laundry. 

“W-well, teach me Sifu Katara.” she snorted at that, but hesitantly agreed. He had stood up from his seat on the rock ledge and had a hopeful look in his eyes. As soon as her eyes deviated from his, she regretted it. One would think all the traveling and limit to food would make one malnourished, but apparently Zuko was healthy as a horse as the water dropping down his toned stomach would beg to differ. Snapping her head down to hide the fierce blush that had bloomed across her face, she slapped a wet blanket into Zuko’s chest while he waded closer. Showing the motion of pressing the fabric into a rock for non-waterbenders, Zuko began learning how to actually help. He never once complained, even when Katara snapped at him for doing it incorrectly. They stood there in comfortable silence, only the sounds of water, rubbing of fabric, and occasional bird calls with Aang’s distant laughter never ceasing. It was one of the few times Katara has actually felt peace in a while. Even alone she often found her mind wandering into undesirable thoughts. Thoughts about her mother, the war, and even the man she killed. She knew he deserved it for all the waterbenders and innocent people of her tribe he must have wounded besides her mother. But for some reason, that didn’t make killing feel any better to her. “You thinking about something?” His hoarse voice suddenly spoke. 

“Um yeah, I guess I am.” 

“You can always talk to me. I mean, if you want that is.” Katara paused, debating on if they were comfortable enough yet with each other. “Actually, you never have to talk to me about anything really. You know I don't want to push your boundaries and-”

“It's okay, Zuko. Thank you.” She gave him a small smile and the tension of his previous rambling physically exited his body as his shoulders relaxed down. 

“Well, good. Because honestly, you’re a really good friend Katara, and I don’t want to mess this up.” She offered him a soft grip on top of his hand and that slightly uncomfortable fluttering returned to her stomach. 

“You haven’t messed it up.” He smiled softly back at her, his eyes twinkling and Katara swore she could see golden light dancing in them. But suddenly, his face fell and his hand slipped out from under hers. He went back to washing the fabric and a frown found its way to Katara’s face. 

“Zuko? What’s-”

“Hey, you guys are washing out our clothes! Cool!” Aaang waded out of the water and the moment was lost. Maybe she was imagining it, but she swore she heard Zuko let out a sigh of relief.

“Well yeah, you guys have been complaining about the sweat and dirt so, here we are.” 

“Wow, really cool of you to help Zuko. You didn’t have to.” Aang said cheerfully, grabbing the finished clothes and hitting them with some gusts of wind to help dry them quickly. Katara’s frown only deepened,

“You know Aang, he didn’t have to but it would be nice if you guys helped me out a little more.” “Why? It's like your job, you know? I have to train, Zuko and Toph have to teach me, Suki has stuff to do for her people and helps you out sometimes, and Sokka is, well, Sokka. That stuff’s your thing.”

“But Aang, I teach you too.” Katara grumbled. 

“I barely need help waterbending anymore, I think it’s fine.” He shrugged while he pulled on a robe. Katara ground her teeth and had to contain herself from snapping. 

“I think she has a point, there’s nothing wrong with us all helping each other out a little more.” Zuko came to the rescue. But Aang simply shrugged, as if this conversation was no big deal at all.

“Sure, I’m heading back to camp. You guys coming?” Katara sighed and tried to keep her tone even. 

“No Aang, I’m not finished with my job.” Aang looked pointedly at Zuko.

“I'll stay with her.” 

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

OM Demons & Their Broadway Duets

A.k.a the duet you two perform together that’s just a lil bit too on the nose

LUCIFER

You cannot tell me that he’s Not the same person as Hades

Mans has shit to do!!

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you one bit

He knows he can seduce you, and that’s exactly what he will do

Also has that Stunningly deep voice thats just perfect for this roll

Enjoys making you squirm on stage with his words and voice

Probably circles around you whilst singing

10/10 very hot

Will def invite you to see him after the performance for some quality time

MAMMON

The exact kind of greedy, insecure loving he needs

He wants to sing more because “The Great Mammon deserves the spotlight”

So he sings Elphaba

Tbh, finds it really therapeutic to express his feelings for you so wholly

LOVES that its so intimate; he gets to hold you, with an undeniable excuse!

Gets so flustered during rehearsals

Only makes him love you more

Listens to it often, cause it makes him happy to think of you

He will deny this

LEVIATHAN

He would have died if it was a romance duet, c’mon guys

He was struggling getting on stage as is

So getting to pretend to play video games, right next to you in stage while talking about how he hates everyone else?

Perfect

Has the audio clip of you saying “is it really true, i’m your favourite person”

Listens to it daily

Actually has an Amazing voice, holy shit

It’s Your song and no one else can sing it with you

Probs get the matching pac-man tattoo from the original musical

SATAN

As said before, a hopeless romantic to the core

Thinks this entire musical is god tier

The only one to know and love the entire musical connected to your performance

You see it together “as research” before doing the scene together

Perfect on stage, as expected

Probs cups your face for a Significant portion of the song

Loves being to protector, instead of the persecutor; like he is so often made out to be

Will sing it to you quietly as you slow-dance in his room in the early hours of the morning

Wants it to be the first dance at your inevitable wedding

ASMODEUS

Guess who’s back on their asmo-is-baby bullshit

Mans relates to Audrey So Hard

So its only right he plays her part

You are his Seymor

He tries not to think about it, or else he’ll cry

Thinks its a really beautiful song

Don’t tell him the ending of Little Shop of Horrors, he’ll be devastated

ADORES being on stage, makes every minute of it

Kisses you as soon as the songs over, so deeply and passionately

The audience goes wild

Both of you are grinning wildly

BEELZELBUB

He’s more than happy to sing a song about loving you in front of as many people as you want

Honestly just happy to be spending time with you

Sings Zoe, because he just wants to reassure you that he loves you

Like Lucifer, has a beautifully deep voice

Constantly checking you’re not as insecure as Evan

Makes sure you know he loves you, even if you aren’t insecure in the slightest

A custom bed needs to be built for the two of you to sit on for the scene bc he’s so Large

Puts his heart into the line “I don’t want you to fix what I’d rather forget”, because he needs you to know that you aren’t a replacement for Lilith

He loves you, as you.

BELPHAGOR

Idk what bullying you had to do to get this but go you ig???

Hates JD with a passion

He reminds him too much of how he was during his time in the attic

But it’s almost like a redemption for him; he can do it again but this time he chooses you

He chooses you instead of the anger, the hurt

Voice is probs really raspy because he’s always sleeping

Didn’t do rehearsals, just wung it on opening night

Enforced naptime afterwards

DIAVOLO

Listen, this is Very Directed

He chose this song for a reason; he needs his people to know that loving you is not a political choice

He just loves you

Relates more to Alyssa, but sings Emma for impact

Probs doesn’t have time to be doing something like this??

Barbatos is On Him for the overdue paperwork

But this is Fun

And it’s with You

He loves preforming

Probs has a good vibrato too

Post show fancy dinner date 💕💕

BARBATOS

l i s t e n

Mans is perfect for Warner

Is more than happy to let you have the spotlight

Loves being able to say he loves you so plainly

Sometimes the song makes him think about the realities where you stayed in the human realm

It makes him grateful that you chose the Devildom

That you chose him

But he tries not to linger, because you both have a song to do

Master of honey tea before going on stage

Warm them vocal chords UP

Always praises you on how wonderful you were the second that mics are off

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

Hi Mara,

Do you have any advice for those struggling with desire (or lack thereof, rather), getting things done and enjoying it?

I’ve been in a bit of a rut, I was persuaded that the issue was with brain chemicals, as usual, and that I’ve been indulging in way too many ‘cheap pleasures’ that I had to cut out of my life in order to actually be able to live and enjoy life. It didn’t work, and now I find it harder than ever to do things which, I think, used to give me pleasure: playing video games, watching anime, reading, net surfing. It feels as though the only things I find more or less easy to start and continue doing are obligations forced on me from the outside, by people or otherwise, and to get out of work, buying groceries, eating, empty pleasantries, conforming—means certain death, and so I have no other choice.

I wonder if there’s a way to live without having to have a guillotine blade always hanging above my head, swish-swoosh.

Love your art and writing. Hope you have a good day today. Peace!

my notes from church this morning;

well anonymous, i think you are the second person in the past several months to ask me this specific thing and mostly i:m bewildered here as: "nothing in life gives me much joy" has been my stated 'thing to whine about' as a general theme--and if i can:t help myself, surely i can:t help you or another, either;

though that:s not necessarily true, and i think mostly how you view your issue shapes the root of your pains; if you view it as something dearly in need of fixing: my sincere advice is to start shedding all the dumb pride you have surrounding your problem (half saying this vaguely, but also half sincerely gesturing at how you frame yourself as 'having a guillotine' weighed against you like the worst thing in life is to have obligations and conformity) and bite the therapeutic bullet and be open to treating your little psychiatric demon--may-be you have ADHD and starting medication could bleed some passion back in-to you: surely they'd know better than you or i.

how i deal with it, or how i have dealt with it, is mostly to just recognize this 'lacking' as part of my person and material, and the consequence of becoming a penance for me to live with; in recognizing the issue as a penance with which i venerate these pocks inside me and the relationship with the goodly material i find some purpose, and some purpose in-turn makes the "lack of joy" feel less consuming and whole: as there is goodly material around the pocks, sure enough; and sure enough: though i whine about art being uninteresting, and writing being boring, and tricking myself with exercise/work/chores as an excuse to listen to audiobooks and anime: i still find some precious slants of joy slipping through blinds i had thought shut; food has gone mostly tasteless but sometimes i:m surprised; games have gone dull but i love watching grubby wc3 videos and catching a warm little spark of child-me's fascination with blizzard games; obligations of work and chores can feel like my body is slowly being ground away in monotony, but gosh do i love listening to stephen king audiobooks (i:m on The Dead Zone right now, finished Mr Mercedes two nights ago); and sometimes the sun even rises: i:ve been excited to read in quiet hours again, and i:ve been forcing myself to write a few paragraphs for my isekai-fiction in the mornings.

if little whispers from the heart, in turn whispered to it by these little nibbling voices everywhere, make it such that you think the icon with which you are sculpting is infested and ruined, and that your tools in turn you hold are both infested and ruined, then the whole world itself will become ruinous and infested--but never is it that way completely, unfortunately, and its both of our burdens to bear always having hope.

the guillotine is imaginary, anonymous, even if death is guaranteed eventually. take care!

[thesamoanqueen]

Darkside

Raiting: 14

Warnings: Angst; A lot...

A/N: Dark days will come its all your fault Dwayne... So therapeutic writing for me.

The PPV routine was inhumane, something that even those in the business tried to sustain, knowing that in the end, all the hard work would be reduced to a couple of chaotic hours. You prepared yourself, tried to be in the right emotional state and threw yourself headlong into the work, on your shoulders the responsibility to get to the point storylines, promos, shots and shots so that people out there could go home satisfied. And you could emerged from that atmosphere in two ways: excited by adrenaline or drained by fatigue, but often, neither excluded the other.

For Y/N on that particular occasion it was the latter. She felt like she'd been holding her breath for an eternity, her mind full of noise, her blood pumping more than it should in her aching muscles. She had gotten to the point of hating her heels and it wasn't something she usually did, hoping the end would come quickly so she could rest and restore the fragile balance that was interrupted. She missed Roman and every day, that farce of friends with benefits was getting harder and harder to sustain. They texted each other all the time, they talked on the phone in their spare time, but it wasn't the same and this time seemed worse than the previous ones.

Maybe it was the realization of feeling something more that made it heavy for her. She literally froze one morning in front of the sliding doors of a restaurant, her heart suddenly crazy just reading his name on the phone screen and a voice in her head announcing: 'It's him. It's always been him.' And actually wasn't wrong, because with Roman it had never been about sex or attraction, it had been so natural, so familiar, that she didn't even have time to notice it. Samantha had moved her out of the way of the doors by miracle that day, she hadn't even noticed the ones closing too.

But she had noticed Roman's voice, the way he answered her questions, the few details in the stories and the too many meetings he was having. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe it wasn't her feelings and she was just being paranoid, which she found herself incredibly talented at when he was involved, but something was really wrong.

She had investigated with Jimmy and Jey, in the short time she had spend with them too, but they just claimed they were too busy with the current storyline. And she had really believed it, because they were going so well that they surpassed even the most extreme forecasts, but then Y/N had seen Roman. She had seen him at the arena, Heyman whispering as if they were in the middle of a conspiracy and him silently listening, absorbing word after word. She had seen him again hours later, she had recognized the stiffness in his muscles, despite the fact that he seemed to let everything slip off him, she had seen his polite smile and that shadow in his eyes which, tenacious and responsible, continued to wander from one face to another, keeping him on track. She had seen him shake his hand before the fireworks started and from afar, Y/N understood.

***

It was late, the arena had emptied, the press conference had ended and by now there were only a few left in there, almost only technicians. But there he was, inside the ring, staring at the empty stands where people had yelled at him a few hours earlier. A big reaction, a tremendous success, but he didn't look fully satisfied and Y/N knew him enough to read between lines.

With hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, she walked over in silence, looking at him there: alone at the top of his mountain.

When you work in an environment like that, you can't get caught up in the crowd's reactions. It's a self-defense mechanism, you become somehow less prone to empathy and more focused on yourself, but there are things that hurt anyway. Roman was a grown man, one of those who really takes all kinds of responsibility on his shoulders and strives to go forward day after day, trying to overcome difficulties with the right mind. Y/N knew with absolute certainty that he had accepted everything for the good of the company, for the sport that had accompanied him since he was a kid, even before he set a foot inside the ring. She knew that Roman had no regrets, that he had pushed as far as he could and even further, she knew that every more day was a gift for him, but that ring, those people, were truly his mountain. One that he had never fully climbed and that he still felt he owed something to. He had been in his place and they had hated him so much, while now they gave him only praise…

It wasn't envy or competition, it wasn't refusal to give up his place or anger. She was pretty sure he even liked him, his heart was tender under all those muscles. Was the sneaky suspicion that he hadn't lived up to it when he should have, the simple refusal, after years of struggling to achieve something they had even promised him. He had trudged up his mountain and what in her eyes seemed determination, constancy, seemed something else to him at that moment. It was the darkside of their mind, the dark behind the spotlight, the silence of the future coming and leaving others behind.

- Hey… - she called softly, stopping under the ropes to look at him from below.

- Y'still here? – he asked hoarsely, a couple of scratches caused by the match on his neck.

- I was lookin for a big lost boy – she tried to joke, but Roman barely smiled, his gaze wandering everywhere without stopping on her.

If only he had looked at her, if only he had paid Y/N the attention that his mind was urging him to have for those empty chairs, for the stands above, for that now dark logo dangling in the void, he would have noticed perhaps that no one else in the world for her would ever be like him.

- Ro, if you want to-

- Im tired for those things Y/N. Not tonight – he stopped her, with his usual slowness overcoming the ropes to get out of the ring.

Not that it had ever happened to her thanks God, but if someone had opened her chest there, to rip the air out of her lungs and crumple her heart, it probably would have hurt less than that. The floor felt softer than it should, ready to suck her in, her knees less still despite no longer wearing heels, the arena incredibly empty and cold. And yet she pursed her lips, swallowing the idea that that was all he could think of right now, enduring the harsh reality between them.

- Im just saying that if y'want... Im here. I’ll listen.

- What? - he asked almost confused, but she couldn't find the right words fast enough and Roman realized with a nod of his head.

- Im a grown ass man Y/N. Its just how da business works – he said, a hand running through her hair as if she were the one who needed to be comforted at that moment.

And he wasn't really wrong. Things were always like this, he had been an extraordinary exception after decades and now the balance had to be restored, people needed it, another chapter had to be written. But she suddenly felt crushed, angry, hurt by those changes, by that reality, while Roman was already metabolizing.

- Yes, but ya know. You've put up with me so many times, always supporting me and making me see things differently, that I would like to do the same for you – she admitted – being with you.

Words came out of her mouth out of control, without her planning them, but they were the plain truth.

Y/N was genuinely terrified, she didn't even know exactly by what, perhaps the change itself. The idea that their balance could change due to an external cause, by having seen the shadow of a wound reopen in him and not being able to shield him. She was used to facing a routine made up of changes in plans, improvisations, rushes and unexpected twists, her first-person tolerance index was out of the ordinary and tempered over the years, but when the people she cared about came into play, when Roman came into play, she always felt like a lost child. That was one of the reasons she probably fell so bad for him, because no matter what came at him, Roman was able to stay on his feet. He was her safe place and for the first time in her life, Y/N wanted to be like him, she wanted to be that for him. She wanted him to know even if he could do it on his own.

She saw his gaze soften, shoulders sag, even if just a little. Her body began to feel the warmth of his embrace before he could even pull her to him, because she knew he would, he always did. But not that time.

- I appreciate it – she heard him thank her and his watch rumbled softly, an incoming call - sorry... it's... I have to go.

A call from Florida.

- Sure, go, go – she encouraged him as if in a trance as he walked towards the ramp giving her one last look and a half smile.

With her hands clasped in her pockets, she watched him walk away, until he disappeared who knows where, his phone already in hand and something else to take care of. She watched the gap in the screens in silence, alone, in the middle of the empty arena until she realized she was about to collapse. Her shoulders trembling, her eyes already wet, she was short of breath.

She wanted to be there for him, she wanted to be with him, but he was already moving on. He was metabolizing, enduring as always, he was already writing another chapter of his life and the fear she had felt at realizing what was happening was clearer now. She was falling behind as he moved forward and she wasn't ready. It hurts, it hurts damn bad.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanarossi @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @niknakbucks92 @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @nestorsgirlfriend @brattyfics @wanna-be-dominated @kitanasposts @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefreigns @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge

[vxiphoid]

ꉂ LUNAR BREATHE ᝰ

❨ music for: the om!brothers, from: you ❩ i havent written for obey me yet so heres my take on “gifting” them with music you’d think they’d like :]] my GAWD i cannot write for lucifer to save my life😞﹫lucifer, mammon, & leviathan

lucifer

playlist; workaholics

MARRY-GO-ROUND OF LIFE - JOE HISAISHI

now playing ෴

up next queue ↴

CHARLIE’S INFERNO - THAT HANDSOME DEVIL

NOEL’S LAMENT - KHOLBY WARDELL

MY TIME - BO EN

𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀

♫ MARRY-GO-ROUND OF LIFE - JOE HISAISHI

- self explanatory, you can’t tell me he doesn’t listen to this song. smooches the top of your head for putting it on even though its already on his playlist, you know him so well<33 lucifer defo dances with you to this song MWAH MWAH. also likes listening to this while doing paperwork? i dunno manne he just really likes this song

♫ CHARLIE’S INFERNO - THAT HANDSOME DEVIL

- believe it or not, lucifer has this song memorized WORD FOR WORD. you’re jamming to all the upbeat parts n he’s just “i don’t want to dieeeee please don’t let me diiiiiieeee” he enjoys the song i swear. he doesn’t listen to this one much, once every blue moon or so, but when he does he’s smiling just a little

♫ NOEL’S LAMENT - KHOLBY WARDELL

- OH MY GAWWWD WJHEWKDN‼️ he loves this song its so dramatic and (he’s a drama king)⁉️⁉️ the violence is sorta like therapeutic, bobbing his head to it and everything (this is a cry for help). lucifer loves classical music and the rhythm of the song gives off that vibe. literally unravels his whole big brother act to this song, such a stress reliever, cannot thank you enough.

♫ MY TIME - BO EN

- now THIS is a genre he doesn’t listen to. since its new to him you kinda just sit and watch him. the piano is well placed plus the song is a whole burst of energy, multiple shots of expresso livening moods. you said that its from a video game from the human world but the songs have way different meanings than they seem and lucifer stayed awake all night to decode it. it was on loop for like six hours straight…

mammon

playlist; music is cheaper than therapy

FUNEE HAT FREESTYLE, FUNEE HAT SONG - KEVINKEMPT

now playing ෴

up next queue ↴

DOGTOOTH - TYLER, THE CREATOR

HONEY - KEHLANI

MOONLIGHT - KALI UCHIS

𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀

♫ FUNEE HAT FREESTYLE, FUNEE HAT SONG - KEVINKEMPT

- this is the song he blasts at like 3 am to piss off levi and satan also because its a whole bop??? a song about hats has mammon hyped as soon as it shuffles on his playlist. his favorite hat you ask? funny ducky hat‼️‼️ has to barricade is door when he does play this, satan will break it down.

♫ DOGTOOTH - TYLER, THE CREATOR

- there is NO WAY mammon doesn’t listen to tyler omfg. this is a rather new song so when you were like “oh great mammon, please spend two minutes and fifty seven seconds of your life to listen to such a yummy song” (in his words, not yours) he had to try it out. lets just say those two minutes and fifty seven seconds was completely worth it.

♫ HONEY - KEHLANI

- you told him to listen to this PURELY because he’s a simp. this man lays awake in his bed, smiling like an idiot just thinking about you, why not give him a little background noise while he does? literal putty in his bed after that. he’s yours, he’s yours, he’s yours.

♫ MOONLIGHT - KALI UCHIS

- type of song you listen to when you’re on cloud nine thinking about your first kiss or something like that… something about the beat is so soul-gripping. THE SPANISH? LAWWD. AND HER VOICE IS HEAVENLY. kiss him to this song PLEASE. why is this song 10 hours long?

leviathan

playlist; airplane mode

NOVACANE - FRANK OCEAN

now playing ෴

up next queue ↴

LOVE TASTE - MOE SHOP

STRESS RELIEF - LATE NIGHT DRIVE HOME

FIGHTER - JACK STAUBER

𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀𓈀

♫ NOVACANE - FRANK OCEAN

- half of the time you have no idea what this dude is listening to, think of novacane as a blessing. this is a song where you have to leave levi alone with it because he’s to embarrassed to sing the curse words near you😭 but once he gets comfortable the only thing you’re really going to get is humming along with the song. he does like this one though :]

♫ LOVE TASTE - MOE SHOP

- CLASSIC BOP FOR GAMING. has this shit on full blast in his headphones + 1000 notifications from his phone telling him that his music is too loud. levi is the happiest when you show him this one because its right up his ally and you play games with him with this in the background😋.

♫ STRESS RELIEF - LATE NIGHT DRIVE HOME

- he has those times where he gets sad for literally no reason and he spins in his little chair and thinks about it, this song is perfect for that. lowkey helps him think everything over and even if he’s not sad it kinda just empties his brain. give him lots of kisses, basically shower him with love after listening to this <3

♫ FIGHTER - JACK STAUBER

- THIS IS ONE OF THOSE SONGS WHERE LEVI LITERALLY CANT STOP LISTENING TO… ABSOLUTELY FOLDS. yall are little nerds and finish the lyrics to the song one by one without having to communicate on who sings what, telekinesis type stuff.

back to om! masterlist

[aurathian]

HyMart | AO3

for @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023, prompt: free day! thanks @jimmyjims for inspiring me to write supermarket au zelink this was therapeutic and like i was reliving trauma at the same time. no totk spoilers here!

Fandom: Skyward Sword (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Summary: Link deals with a rude customer and possibly meets the love of his life in his place of work: HyMart.

Link often hears the beeping and buzzing of cash registers in his dreams: swipe, beep… swipe, beep… swipe, beep, err…! An error… and oftentimes those same sounds morph into the blare of his alarm clock. Above him, the fluorescent lights from what had been a supermarket ceiling slowly become filtered sunshine as he opens his eyes.

That’s exactly what woke him up that hot July morning. His dreams soon became reality when he found himself wearing long pants and sweating behind his register. He would wear shorts, but if he did that he would be slapped with a dress code violation. Now, he forlornly scanned items and punched in numbers for a few hours, calling over his customer service manager Ghirahim every now and then for help.

In his flashy work vest that he glued rhinestones onto himself, along with his bedazzled nametag, Ghirahim tutted at one of the customers who insisted the shirt she was buying was only five rupees. “Ma’am, if you found it on a different shelf with different items, it was misplaced. This is ten rupees.” He took this stern tone with many of the customers (which they often perceived as rude), but he was arguably one of the best customer service managers the front end had. Despite the many complaints from customers who felt he was condescending and mean, Ghirahim was never fired. Yet, anyway. Link had no problem with it, since it usually put the customers in their place once they started to get frustrated with whatever employee they chose to take their anger out on that day.

“Then I don’t want it,” the customer, a blonde woman with her hair done in pigtails, snapped. “Put it back.”

“Can you run this back, Link?” Ghirahim asked, oddly kind, and Link nodded. “Oh, and then you can go on your lunch.” This encouraged Link to scamper off even faster to deposit the shirt back on its correct shelf, marked at ten rupees, but in his haste he forgot to take off his HyMart vest. He worked his way through the maze of shelving and aisles and approached the back of the store where the giant EMPLOYEES ONLY door called his name. Beyond that was a hallway, and beyond that was the break room, where his cold sandwich packed in a plastic bag beckoned him closer…

“Excuse me?” a light voice called. Link whirled around, realizing his mistake as his hands naturally found themselves in his vest pockets. “Could you help me find something?”

His eyes landed on a blonde woman carrying a tote bag and wearing a white sundress. His mind flitted between two outcomes: “No, sorry, I’m on break,” and “Sure, what do you need?” A good employee, one that wasn’t on the verge of getting fired everyday, would say sure.

“Yeah, what do you need?” he asked, approaching her.

“Oh, I was looking for this,” the woman said, pulling up a picture on her phone and showing him. “I’m just not sure where to find it.”

“I can take you to where the Loftwing Feed is,” Link said, motioning with his hand for her to follow. He didn’t mind showing customers where to find certain things, but in this case, they needed to travel to the other side of the store. So, to lessen the journey’s awkwardness, he made conversation. “Hot outside, huh?”

“It is. Really, it’s horrible you have to wear long pants.”

“Tell me about it.” A weird silence assumed, as silent as it could be with the outdated pop songs cracking out of the overhead speakers. “So do you, um, own Loftwings?” What a stupid question! If she wasn’t standing right there, he would’ve slapped himself. Why else would she be buying Loftwing Feed?

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Two of them. A red and a blue one.”

Link deliberately slowed his pace. “What are their names?”

“The red one is Cawlin and the blue one is Strich.”

“Interesting names. I used to have one too–it was named Beedle.”

He didn’t miss the way the customer leaned a little forward to peer at his nametag with squinted eyes. Unfortunately, they were arriving at the animal feed aisle.

“Thank you for helping me, Link,” she said, a little too charming, brushing some hair over her shoulder.

“It’s no problem, uh…”

“Zelda.”

“It’s no problem, Zelda.”

That cold sandwich, soggy from sitting in the fridge, tasted a little more lonely that day. Most of his coworkers with whom he was friends were out on the floor, and of course that blonde customer probably hadn’t given him a second thought once she got her heaping bag of bird food. To his surprise, he was excited when his break was over because it meant he was a little closer to going home.

He was back on the register as usual, even though he would’ve preferred a spot down at self checkout, but didn’t complain since the constant flow of people helped pass time faster. That was until an obnoxious man with an equally obnoxious hairdo came up to his register with an overflowing cart.

Link greeted him as he normally would and began to scan as efficiently as he could, sometimes pausing to punch in the numbers for fruits or veggies. The customer didn’t say much to him–just hummed, scrolled on his phone, occasionally nodded at a question. Link found it a little rude but kept on with his job hoping he could quickly finish the customer’s transaction. Everything had been going smoothly; groceries were neatly in bags, all the items were scanned correctly and there had been no system errors.

Then the man pulled out a stack of coupons.

“You want me to use these?” Link asked, picking up the stack. The customer nodded and raised an eyebrow. Link began to scan them, but each one brought up a few dollar signs on the terminal, signifying that they weren’t working, so he inspected them closer.

They expired last year.

“Sir, unfortunately these coupons aren’t working because–”

“They should work.” Ah, so he does speak. “I made sure it’s for all the right items. You can look yourself.” He pointed at the mountain of bags.

Link repeated himself after heaving a sigh to maintain his composure. “They aren’t working because they’re expired. These expired last year, sir.”

The customer dramatically exhaled and fumbled around his pocket, fishing out his wallet and picking through it exaggeratedly. He slammed a card on the ledge by the card reader and then pulled out another one.

“Okay, fine, if you won’t take my coupons, can I at least use this?” The red-haired man shoved a blue card into Link’s face. The words on it read Zora Juice. He could hardly believe his eyes–this was a gift card for a smoothie store. This man, this customer, was standing in the middle of a HyMart trying to pay for his groceries with a smoothie store gift card.

“Um, sir, this is for Zora Juice,” Link informed him after spending a moment mustering up the courage to do so.

“Yes.”

“Okay… this is a HyMart.”

“Yeah, I know.” The customer ran his hand over his bright red pompadour.

“This is a different store. You can’t use this gift card here.”

There was a pause as the air in the store stilled and time screeched to a halt. The customer–whose name was Groose, based on the debit card he put on the ledge–seemed to be going through the five stages of grief with the way his face contorted into twenty different expressions all at once. Then, he exploded.

Groose snapped at him, asking why he couldn’t properly do his job, saying this is why kids need to stay in school, that Link was an incompetent cashier, all other kinds of insults under the HyMart ceiling. Link glanced nervously over to the customer service desk where Ghirahim was dealing with a rush and clearly frazzled, the way he waved his hands about and the faces he was making. There’d be no way to get him over for help, so Link braced himself for the worst.

The customer was about to turn as red as his hair when suddenly, a finger in his face cut him off.

“And just who do you think you are?”

“I– uh–”

Link could hardly contain his shock when he saw Loftwing Feed woman, in her sundress and holding her tote bag, pointing a finger directly in Groose’s face.

“It’s not his fault those coupons or that card doesn’t work. Why do you insist on bothering him?”

“I suppose…”

“Suppose what?”

Groose stared at her for a few moments and the cashier, now awkwardly caught in the middle, didn’t miss the way his entire body softened for just a moment. But then Groose shook his head, swiped his debit card, and left with his groceries in a huff.

The woman–Zelda, that’s her name–stepped up to the register as Link began to scan her items, bringing himself down from the nerves and excitement of that encounter. Rude customers always had him a little shaky, but it was different this time having someone to support him.

“Um, thank you,” he finally said after a few moments of silence, poked with buzzes and beeps.

“It’s no problem. I used to work in a supermarket, too.” Her eyes darted around nervously, tapping her foot. “Say, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but do you like coffee?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me up in the mornings,” Link joked, typing in some numbers on his terminal. “Why?”

“I was wondering if you would be interested in getting a coffee with me sometime.”

If Link did not have customer service training, he would’ve jumped for joy and said yes immediately, but he kept himself composed, used his hand scanner on her Loftwing Feed, and then answered.

“Sure.”

“Great, sounds good.”

Link handed her the receipt, but she instead pulled a pen from her bag, wrote some numbers on it, and handed it back to him. Her phone number.

“You might need this on your way out–”

“It’s okay!” she said, already walking off with her cartload of items, Loftwing Feed neatly tucked into the bottom. Thankfully, he watched her walk out of the doors without being stopped by one of the greeters, but his trance was broken by a customer waving in his face.

“Hello? Young man?”

Link turned to the customer with a sigh. Until that coffee date, his life would simply be the buzzes and beeps of the register.

[bungoustraypups]

Fictober Day 6: "I can't wait for you." Rimbaud/Verlaine (BSD)

@fictober-event

Prompt number: 6 - "I can't wait for you."

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: Arthur Rimbaud/Paul Verlaine (Bungou Stray Dogs), Coma, Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Notes: ever since reading stormbringer a few months back i've had thoughts on how to fit the pre-15 arc events into bspverse and this fic is the beginning of that! this fic is set during what would be like... the events right after chuuya was taken from the facility. except this is in BSPverse, so paul & arthur never fought over chuuya but the explosion still happened. hence the coma arthur is in

Words: 353

Arthur Rimbaud has been in a coma now for two weeks, five days, ten hours, and thirty-five minutes, and not once during that time has Paul Verlaine - his husband of barely a month prior to that incident occuring - left his side. Even now, he sits next to Arthur's hospital bed with both of his trembling hands wrapped tightly around his husband's single one, his head resting on the cot next to him as he stares with empty eyes.

To say that he is "sad" would be to severely underestimate and misunderstand Paul's feelings. There is no word strong enough in any of the languages he knows to describe how he feels. After all...

Arthur is the only link to his humanity that he has left. He is the only person who can affirm what little scraps of it he has within him, the only one who can prove to him that he is more than just lines of code, arranged in a believable-enough humanoid shape.

The heart monitor beeps monotonously, serving as a hollow metronome. Paul's grip tightens on Arthur's hand.

"...I know that- the statistics say, there is only a 2% chance that you will come back to me," he says. His voice is heavy and rusted from disuse (he hasn't spoken much over the past two weeks, five days, ten hours, and thirty-eight minutes, after all, as the one person he'd ever really spoken to of his own free will cannot respond to him), but he thinks now that there might be some therapeutic use in speaking to the man right by his side and yet so far away at the same time, anyway.

Paul swallows heavily. "Statistics are numbers which govern our lives, but they are numbers nonetheless. If there is anything you have taught me after all these years... it must be that humans are more than just numbers."

He tilts his head up just a little from its position on the bed.

"I cannot wait for you- to come back to me. To prove the numbers wrong- just as you have done to me so many times, before."

[thesinsemillier]

RIP Sinéad, My Patron Saint of Rage 

Content warning: CSA, suicidal ideation 

When The Lion and the Cobra was released in 1987, I was an exchange student spending my senior year of high school in West Berlin. My mom and stepdad sent me the cassette tape and I was instantly drawn to Sinéad O’Connor’s unique voice and most of all, her anger and grief. Painful secrets from my childhood haunted me day and night, and I couldn’t get anyone to listen or help. I was deemed weak for not being able to simply forget about the abuse and move on. Worse, others called me a liar, even in my own family, though they knew better. By middle school, we’d moved from just outside Boston to a small town in central Massachusetts where I was relentlessly bullied until I left for the exchange program. Every day, I tried to avoid brutal beatings by getting to school two hours early and leaving at least an hour late, hiding in spaces where they wouldn’t find me. As the only punk-Goth girl in that Lovecraftian, small-town high school, broken by PTSD that I didn’t know I had from childhood, I was an easy target. Sinéad’s rage-filled howls awoke my own anger about my past. It was liberating. Only 3 years older than me, she was like the renegade sister I never had. 

I came home from my year abroad to find my mom and stepdad were facing a failing marriage. The way my stepdad broke my mom’s heart shattered her. I remember him sitting on the front stoop one evening, watching the sunset as he contemplated his future without us. Playing The Lion and the Cobra was like setting off a weapon. Tears abound, especially if my mom was around when “Troy” played. Yet, it was one of my favorite albums because of its therapeutic effect—it was the only way I knew how to express my rage.  

When her tears fell in the video for “Nothing Compares 2 U” in 1990, the raw pain in Sinéad’s soul was laid bare. When she shredded that photo on the SNL stage, I cheered as a survivor of CSA. My abuse occurred outside of church, but after, I was sent to Sunday school as part of the effort to make me forget and move on. In a lesson where “Jesus protects the little children” was the theme, I raised my hand and asked why I wasn’t protected. The Sunday school teacher, exasperated with the interruption, told me that whatever had happened to me, I had it coming. As a result, I went to war with the church at the age of 6 and eventually found spiritual solace in Celtic paganism.  

I can’t even begin to count how often I danced alone well into the night to those songs, “Jackie” being my personal favorite on the album, though honestly each song is perfect. Whiskey and a small pipe full of cannabis fueled my cathartic, music-filled escapist nights when I was stuck in a dead-end, stifling job  that was adding ever more layers of trauma to my life. I finally started a new career ten years ago, but those music-filled nights continued as a means of therapy as I sought release from so many years of anger and sorrow.  

I didn’t know anything about her personal life until I read her memoir, Remeberings: Scenes from My Comlicated Life, in 2022. I had recently been diagnosed with complex PTSD (CPTSD), and Sinéad’s book had a powerful impact on me. It helped me heal. Although our backgrounds are very different, there were enough similarities in essence. I related to her state of mind. I inherited plenty of generational trauma from my Irish heritage and her account of life in Ireland gave me some deeper insights into a history that I’m only just learning more about now. I was following her on Twitter when her son Shane committed suicide and she was tweeting from the hospital where she was staying after being tempted by the idea of suicide herself. And it wasn’t the first time, as she explained in her book. Her mourning, her wild humor, her snark as she addressed any haters on Twitter resonated in my soul.  

Today’s news of her death breaks my heart. Many of us who struggle with mental illness know those dark spaces where death seems to offer a peace from the chaos we find here in the world. Her music guided me and so many of my fellow GenX friends through difficult times—times we faced with a maelstrom of emotion. We raged, we sang, and we tried our best to hide our pain throughout all of it.  

Airím uaim thú, mo deirfiúr álainn. Thank you for sharing your voice with us. I’ll always carry your songs in my heart.  

[farehamflorist]

I said that title post in my best 'Swedish Chef' voice! 

Many of you might recall the post I shared some time agao regarding the Dog Planters, created by a gentleman from Fareham Men's Shed. They have become quite a popular item for us to sell, especially as a unique/personal tribute for funerals.

In addition to the dogs, he also crafted some bird houses, one of which featured a chicken on the front of it. That chicken brough such a smile to my face that I couldn't stop looking at the photograph of it. Naturally, I asked if he might be willing to make just the chicken for me; happily for me he agreed. 

Chris, whom most of you have seen standing on your doorstep, or at your workplace- as he is delivering flowers to you - occasionally you'll also see him have a grumble at me inside the shop! He'll deny that but we all know the truth :) That aside, as Chris the person who introduced me to the chicken (he's an active member of Fareham Men's Shed) he was tasked with figuring out how to enlarge it from just the bird box size, to be able to fit into the perfect two-foot square space I had on the shop wall. All of this was done with the permission of the gentleman who originally designed the chicken.

One morning, a few weeks after our discussions and time spent working out measurements, Chris arrived in the shop, handed me many pieces of wood, and said "One chicken for you"!. As you can see from the photograph below, it wasn't quite what I had been expecting!

As a puzzle and challenge enthusiast, I took those pieces home and was able to resolve a few issues which arose (like the chicken's head falling off for one!). Then, I reached for my tube of Gorilla Glue (other glues are available). I would advise being absolutely certain you have the pieces aligned before applying the glue, because it bonds almost instantly - unless you have painted before sticking it all together, at which point you may want to try a different glue.

Next I painted and was very pleased with the result. The red smudges on it's tummy have since been fixed, and now that prototype sits grinning at me from my bedroom door, ensuring I start each day with a smile. Having worked out any issues from that first one, I was able to tell Chris what needed to be changed so he was able to perfect the next one! 

Oh yes, there was a next one... then another... then another! Because I wanted the one to fit my two-foot gap, Chris kept working on it until he got it right; boy did he get it right. 

I cannot tell you how therapeutic it was to spend last Sunday aftgernoon in the garden with pieces of wood for three different sized chickens, tubes of acryllic paint (don't try using oil paints like I stupidly did at one point - it won't dry!) and a set of different sized paint brushes. Being at work 6/7 days a week, 50 weeks each year it can be quite difficult for me to switch off. My brain is constantly buzzing with questions - did I remember to order that flower? Did I send off that email to Mrs S? Have I ordered enough flowers for the wedding? What time do I need to start in the morning to get it all done in time? Although with many others, the most popular one being "Did I lock the doors at the shop when I left?". Painting those chickens took me away from it all for those few hours.

I orginally only want one, ended up with four and I love them; they make me smile whenever I look at them. The second size has been commandeered by a family member; Number three is sitting on a specially made stand in the shop (a stand Chris also made) and Number Four, the biggest - although due to the cutting machine he uses he wasn't able to make it quite the two-foot we were hoping for - sits proudly above the doorway from the shop, into the kitchen, where its clock hands (oh yes, I turned it into a clock) move around keeping perfect time.

"Is Chris able to make different shapes?" Absolutely. Ive currently set him another challenge for something he doesn't have a design for already. I have no doubt he will exceed my expectations. 

Are they expensive to purchase? The depends on what you class as expensive. The large one - which I turned into the clock - cost £20 for the chicken pieces, plus the price of the clock mechanism (I paid £8 for the one I purchased). I don't think that is expensive. In fact I think they'll make a great gift for someone; they're easy to make, simple to paint and can't help but raise a smile. A bespoke one (that Chris doesn't already have the design/template for) would cost £30 for the first one to allow for his time and the wood needed to experiment with a prototype to ensure it was perfect for any potential customer.

The dog planters also come in kit form = £20, or ready made/painted for £30, but who wouldn't want to put one together and make their own? They do have a twenty one day turn around period; I personally feel they are so worth the wait.

[jcmarchi]

With My Past Review - Puzzle Therapy - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/with-my-past-review-puzzle-therapy-game-informer/

With My Past Review - Puzzle Therapy - Game Informer

Everyone can empathize with waking up late at night and sitting in agony as your brain forcefully makes you relive a traumatic, embarrassing, or heartbreaking moment. Our past is with us forever, and how it manifests in the present is a toss-up from day to day. With My Past, the debut game from developer Imagine Wings Studio, attempts to blend those feelings with platforming-puzzle gameplay and does so excellently. The result is a therapeutic five-hour adventure I’ll be thinking about long after today. 

After being startled awake at 3 a.m. by her past, an unnamed blue-haired girl goes on a journey through her labyrinth mind, which is holding her back. This translates to six distinct chapters of gameplay, each with a unique theme in narrative and mechanics. The first introduces you to her “Past,” the throughline mechanic with which With My Past shines. Your past is just you, but two seconds prior. If you walk forward and jump, two seconds later, it will too. With My Past playfully builds upon this in its opening moments as it teaches you the ropes, but by the end of the game, I was pulling off moves that bent my brain in all directions.

As you progress through each chapter, With My Past introduces new mechanics, like a Kiwi fruit that lets you teleport to your past’s location or a way to solidify your past and climb on top of it to reach new heights. It’s hard to describe how unique this mechanic plays in With My Past because it’s genuinely unlike anything I’ve played in a puzzle game, but Imagine Wings Studios excels at adding new layers to its depth each step of the journey. I’m reminded of 2018’s Celeste, which does the same, incorporating narrative elements into the game’s mechanics. 

On that same note, With My Past is more vague than Celeste’s journey of transformation and self-love, instead allowing players to graft their own past onto the protagonist here. But it works well. As on-screen words that tell the story dive into self-hate, the ways our past bubbles up at the worst times, and the loneliness sometimes felt even when surrounded by love, I found myself thinking about my past, and it was wondrous to watch how With My Past suggests tackling those issues through gameplay. 

Your in-game past transforms from a mysterious specter, to an enemy on the hunt, to an ally you must reckon with and understand as a part of what makes you. And it does so while With My Past serves up great puzzle after puzzle. A handful of the 150+ challenges left me more frustrated than satisfied, but a skip option allows players to keep the story moving along. My only real dissatisfaction happened in the game’s final (and only) “boss” fight. Perhaps I missed the point, but in an otherwise cohesive experience, it felt unattached to everything else I played through. 

Void of voice acting, with a minimal soundscape coloring the protagonist’s steps, With My Past’s score does the talking here, and the result is one of my favorite scores of the year. It’s grand, sweeping, and almost feels more at home in a movie theater than coming from my desktop screen, but the game’s music is as integral to this journey as the story and its puzzles. 

I began With My Past yesterday on a whim and finished it later that afternoon with an aching smile on my face; that “hurts so good” type of smile. With My Past is a short but powerful burst of emotional storytelling on top of excellent and intuitive puzzle design. With few misses, it’s an impressive reminder of the power of games and how savvy developers can blend storytelling into how we play.

[redsoba]

Therapeutic.

That's exactly what staying in that hotel room had been. I settled into the pillows with a styrofoam cup of 99 cent ramen, mind active and whirring, as I reflected on the rocky road that spanned for miles between my father and I. Two years after the fact and I can't recall the reason behind our argument. I can only conjure up that feeling of being suffocated, of needing to breathe without the house of cards collapsing in on itself. Stirring the noodles absentmindedly made the peas and corn float on by like tiny pieces of driftwood. The silence could have been deafening, if it weren't for the occasional crunch of vegetables and adjoining neighbor.

I heard snippets of a conversation filter in through the gap between the door and carpet whenever he entered the hall to pace back and forth. It was a heated conversation, judging from the tone his voice held. This went on for nearly an hour, with interjections on his part, and I recognized myself in his frustration. I wondered who the person on the receiving end of that call was and how they couldn't understand since it was so obvious why he was upset. I often asked myself that in the aftermath of my father and I's arguments, when sharp and bitter words hung there between us.

I spent that entire weekend, my birthday weekend in fact, constantly flipping the switch in my brain off in order to keep my creeping thoughts in the dark. It would be useless to shine a light on them when I barely held myself together in this room. This room that couldn't contain the elephant that needed to be addressed once my reprieve came to its inevitable conclusion.

Right then and there, encapsulated within that single moment in time, was a relief I had never experienced. A comfort I never expected to find inside of a hotel room.

[homodotus]

I really hope this is your requests line

This is my first ever request and I hope it's cool with you. So it's just a fem!reader in where reader defends kiri and helps the boys fight ao'nung and his dudes and after the fight, kiri patches the reader up something like that and cuteness at the end hope this isn't too long 😭

thank you @themastaralex for a request! tw: blood. word count: 3035

small hands

The wood here is dry and smooth against your knees as you lean over the dock, splashing the sea water over your heated shoulders. The wood has begun to warp from your years of fishing; two circular dents about the size of your knees, and two more beside it similar to your feet - a sort of signature to this far-off, idyllic fishing spot you so favour. The day is hot; the sun is unforgiving with its heat, but the waves carry its rays to the shore, fracturing the light like one of Tsahik's crystals. You can feel the tickle of sweat at the parting of your hair, dripping down the nape of your neck. You rise, a sigh of resignation escaping from your lips as your back straightens with a pop. You pull at your net, the rope picking at the calluses of your roughened palms as you work out the knots and pluck it from the flaking wood that splinters the dock. Your shoulders have broadened over the years, muscle thickening as you threw the net, hauled the crates of fish, fought the bigger prey with a spear; your stature had begun to mimic your father's, and you wait in itchy anticipation for tattoos to adorn your arms. You imagine it now, looking into the shimmering horizon: mighty hunts beyond the reef, toughened skin marred with impressive scars and jewellery decorated with razored teeth. The net blossoms in the air as you toss it, the rope striking the water in an audible slap before it sinks below.

It was in your periphery, as you turned into the throw, that you spotted the Omatikayan girl floating in the shallow waters of an isolated piece of beach.  She has done this often in the few days since the forest people arrived -- she lingers in observation, fawning over some mediocre bit of nature that you could not understand her fascination with. You supposed you had outgrown the wonder of the reef - but still, she watches the water carry the sand as if it were riveting, feet kicking out of the water. It seems so primitive.

A tugging at the net brought you back to your fishing. There is a relief in your shoulders as they roll and loosen as you pull at the rope, fighting against the fish. You whisper your gratitude to Eywa, plucking the fish from the net and tossing them into baskets. It was a cyclical duty, the repetition of which would have others your age moan and complain, but it was mindless enough; it is therapeutic to work with your hands and not think too hard about things. Hours could pass before you even realised. 

The midday sun was considerably more tolerant. Once more you are on your knees, pawing at the water; it is cool against your skin, and your muscles ache for a weightless soak. Droplets run down your forearms, dance at the end of your elbows. You run a wetted hand across your sweaty face, and your ears curl toward the sound of sloppy footsteps to your right; Tonowari's son is whispering to a couple of other boys as they walk, snickering behind their hands and pointing to the distant shoreline. You mumble your annoyance under your breath, palming water into your face once more. Skxawng.

"Look at her", you hear him laugh, "what is she doing? These tree na'vi are wrong in the head."

Another boy - Rotxo, you think his name is, replies, "she is a freak."

This is not your business, you tell yourself; they are not your people, she is alien, she is not true Na'vi. You stand to pick up the net, ignoring the way your fingers tighten around the rope, whitening at the knuckles, ignoring the way your stomach churns at their words, at your own words. Your ears flicker toward her soft voice as she regards them in ignorance, "Hm? What did you say?"

'Freak', they laugh, pulling at her tail and grasping at her arms. The girl's ears are flat against her skull as she curls in on herself. 

You throw the net; it is half-assed and fruitless. Your eyes are closed and your jaw is clenched. Beyond the noise of your grinding teeth you hear another set of footsteps, this time fast and weighted. "Stay away from my sister!" A boy growls, and you open your eyes with a defeated sigh: two more Omatikayan kids, baring their teeth at the gaggle of Metkayina boys. The one that throws the first punch is tall but lanky, and though he is fast he takes as many hits as he throws. The other's shoulders are as broad as your own; he turns solidly into his punches, balances his weight on his feet well. They will do fine enough, you had thought, before watching Rotxo drag one of the Omatikayan boys through the sand by his hairy tail.

The net has sunk to the sea floor, no fish ensnared. You hiss in frustration as the rope falls from your hand and into the water with a sad splash, and you break into a jog toward the boys.

Rotxo's taunt is swallowed up by a breathless grunt as your body hits his; he flails in the sand like a beached fish, mouth gaping incredulously. You face Ao'nung, heart beating with a sudden adrenaline, and your breathing stutters. "Just because you are the son of a clan leader does not mean you are entitled to treat others like this. A son of Tonowari would behave better." Ao'nung is almost foaming at the mouth; you feel the spittle hit your face as he hisses. "You father would be disappointed in you."

The adrenaline coursing through your body did little to prepare your face for Ao'nung's charged fist; your lip split with a heated sting, and his knuckle collided into your nose with a sickening crack. Your tongue was overwhelmed with the taste of iron, and the saltiness was not so dissimilar to the sea. 

You tried to breathe through your nose. You choked on blood instead.

There was no thought of consequence as you reeled back your fist, knuckles popping and shoulders flexing as if you were about the throw a net deep into sea. There was an angry thudding at your temple, a tension that made your eyeballs bulge and teeth bite at your inner cheek. The skin splits as you bring your knuckle-white fist down onto Ao'nung's face, into his teeth. A mix of spit and blood leapt from his mouth, pooling at his chin. His lip was beginning to purple. "Tonowari will hear of this, Ao'nung!" You hiss, driving your fist into his shoulder, the both of you breathing hard. At the threat, Ao'nung begrudgingly resigned, eye twitching in bottled fury; he shoulders past you as Rotxo spits at your feet. 

There is a tickle at your chest, a blossoming warmth; it alarms you, looking down, to see how much blood is dripping from your chin. You tentatively touch your face, pulling back at the sting of your lip and the deep ache at the ridge of your nose. Your fingers are bloodied. 

You turn to leave, breath held as to not choke on your own blood in front of the Omatikayan kids; she catches your eye, then. The forest girl. Her five fingers reach out toward you, muttering something shaky and incoherent, but you pull away from her touch. A tiredness settles within you, and you pinch your bleeding nose as you retreat to the docks.

You sit once more at the edge, reserving a moment to compose yourself before seeking out your net, trying to stifle the anxiety that begins to bubble in your stomach.

You ease yourself slowly into the water, small waves kneading your stomach and blood melting into ripples of orange. This time, you anticipate the pain: the sea water laps up the blood and cleans your wounds; instinctively you flex your hand as your knuckles sting, cursing as a sharp, burning pain shoots up your wrist.

You allow yourself to float, kicking off a piece of choral; you guard your hand, holding it close to your chest as the water carries you. It is seamless, weightless; the blues of the sky and the sea melt into one another. For a moment, you can forget the chastisement from your parents, the reprimands - certain to happen - and forget about your cuts and bruises. For now, there is only you, the water, and Eywa. It feels like home; the cool water at your back and the sun that kisses your face, like a fire on a rainy day, the smell of salt and distant petrichor. 

You breathe in, filling your lungs with that fresh, chilly sea breeze, and arch backward into the water to find the net. You reach for it with your better hand, gathering the rope in your arms before kicking off the seabed. 

She watches you break the surface, the curls of your dark hair contorting in the sun's warmth as you blink away the water. Her eyes explore you like they do the sand, the sea, the little fish that swim at her feet and pulse beneath the eclipse; it is all wonder and delicate curiosity. She has cocooned herself within her leafy shoal, gripping at the seams as if to hide herself. That look of guilt and nervousness lingers on her face still. Her five fingers pick at themselves.

Your own eyes are strong and unblinking, unwavering teal; you watch her as if to understand a foreign fish or a new knot that your mother teaches you. But her gaze remains just as soft, just as innocent. "Kiri," A gentle voice says, "come."

Tossing the net atop the dock, you find purchase on the thick column of wood buried deep into the seabed, sand churning as you climb it. Pain blossoms at your wrist again as you lift your weight, and you instinctively hiss. The girl draws in a sharp breath as she watches, and a taller woman emerges from a nearby marui pod to steer her inside, speaking to her softly. She huffs in frustration as she breaks your gaze.

You sit on the dock's edge a moment longer, testing the limitations of your wrist. "Kiri," you repeat, swirling the word around your mouth with your tongue, as if to see how the name would taste. 

The flavour of it is polluted by the lingering zest of blood. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ocean disappears into the darkness, and the setting sun makes the distant islands burn a deep red in the horizon. The gentle sea breeze tickles at her cheek, and there is little warmth other than the sombre flicker of mounted firelight. Kiri pulls the shoal tighter around her shoulders.Her five-toed feet are familiar with the lubricous and barky terrain of the forest, but the splintered and sand-sprinkled slabbed wood of the docks rasps at her soft feet. She picks at the twine of her belt as she walks its length, anxiously readjusting the medicine pouch at her side as her feet begin to blister.

You had looked different from afar, Kiri thinks, as you worked through the knots of your net and waded through the shallow waters with a pointed spear. The Metkayina were broader, their bones strong and limbs finned; your thickened muscle and robust stature were admirable - you looked as much a warrior as you did a fisherwoman. And though your jaw was strong and hard-set, your cheek was soft and your chin was dimpled; your patterned turquoise skin reminded her of the fractured light that danced on the sand that she so loved to observe.

The gentle image of your skin dwindled away at the distant sound of grinding wood. Kiri stopped abruptly at your presence, toe stubbing the dock at the sudden flush of nervousness. The muscle in your thigh braced as you crouched for the weighted crate of fish; the torchlight accentuated the muscle on your back and highlighted the veins that ran along your forearm, and kissed your skin with a healthy glow. Kiri hesitated before she approached, coughing softly for your attention. Her heart had never beaten as fast, and she chews at her bottom lip in anxiety. She unclips the pouch from her belt and holds it to her chest as you turn. Kiri's gaze focuses on the dark bruise at your lip, stark and ugly against your skin, instead of your own eyes. You sigh before she has even said anything.

"Come," you say, setting down the crate with a thud before you rise, beckoning for her to follow as you walk the dock. The sounds of the evening clatter and murmuring melt away into the darkness; it is quieter here, and the tension in Kiri's shoulders lessens somewhat at the sight of the glowing choral and bioluminescent fish. Still, she cannot meet your gaze.

"I have something from home to help with your face," Kiri whispers, opening the pouch and gathering the leaves, roots and vials into her hands, holding them out for you to see. She can feel a heat in her cheeks as you inspect with your forefinger warily. Kiri notices the rudimentary bandage around your injured wrist, and a lump forms in her throat, mottled in guilt. You breathe deeply, and your ankles pop as you lower yourself to settle at the dock's edge. The gentle evening waves lick at your feet, and you extend a hand in invitation when Kiri hesitates to join you.

"Show me your forest medicine." Perhaps it was because the ice had been broken, perhaps it was because you had finally spoken to her, perhaps it was because it was now just the two of you, perhaps it was simply because she was passionate about medicine  -- Kiri could not decide, but she smiled. She sat facing your left, her legs crossed as she settled her trinkets beside her on the worn wood. Kiri displayed them perfectly in line, from least useful to most, bringing them up for you to see as she softly chattered. She looks at you in an excitement she hopes does not translate into childishness. Sometimes you entertain her with an interested hum or an ignorant but sincere question:

 "No, no. This is far better. It has similar healing properties but it stings significantly less. I do not usually have much of it because Lo'ak always gets himself into trouble, and Tuk scrapes her knees a lot." 

Your laugh is lovelier than Kiri had predicted. It is soft and comes easily from the throat; it feels like a tender kiss to the cheek. She looks up from the paste she is kneading between her fingers and into your gentle gaze. "May I?" Kiri whispers, and though you eye it warily, you nod. She is gentle as she thumbs your lower lip, mindlessly reaching out with her spare hand to tenderly cup your cheek for purchase. Her touch lingers at the softness of your skin, and she licks at her dry lips beneath your pointed gaze, throat darkening in a blush.

"Thank you, Kiri," you murmur, a shadow of a smirk pulling at your lips. Her ears flutter at the sound of her name, and they fold when she decides she likes it. The remaining paste is wiped onto a piece of dried tree bark and she pockets it for later; she washes her hands in the cold sea water, and dips her own toes in to imitate you, facing the dark expanse of the ocean. 

"I should be the one thanking you," Kiri laughs breathily, swallowing around the lump in her throat. She watches you lick at your lip in her periphery, pretending not to notice. Her ears fold once more. Your face contorts in disgust at the grassy taste of the paste. "I am sorry," Kiri whispers, gripping at the wooded edge of the dock, jaw tense, "it is my fault that you are hurt." You gently nudge at her side, craning your head to try and catch her eyes, but she stares miserably at the small fish disturbing the sand below.

"Do not apologise," you say firmly, resting your hand atop the younger girl's knee; your touch is coarse, yet warm and tender, and your three strong fingers are large enough to wrap around her leg. A soft gasp escapes her lips. She wonders what her hand would feel like in your own. "That skxawng had it coming. You had done nothing wrong. Tonowari will hear of his son's behaviour, I promise." Kiri wonders what good it will do since her father wants to kiss at the chieftain's finned feet, but she appreciates the sentiment nevertheless.

You rise, and mindlessly she begins to do the same, wanting to follow. "Come", you say, voice softer than before, reaching out a hand for her to take. You whisper her name when she hesitates, and Kiri feels as if she could melt into a puddle. "I must show you the shore in the dark. When the waves break on the sand, there is light - a blue glow. You must see it." Her hands are smaller in yours, silky and delicate, smudged with green forest medicine. Your tender grip makes her stomach flutter, a sensation new and odd to describe, and she lets you pull her gently along the dock and onto the beach, gently thumbing your scabbing knuckles. The sand is cold and it tickles her feet, and she giggles at the feeling. You look back to smile at her, skin aglow in the dark and curled hair dancing in the night's wind, and she returns it in earnest with a toothy grin.

You tell her your name as you walk, and Kiri repeats it delicately as if it were as natural as the waves kissing the sand; it felt comfortable on her tongue, and sounded idyllic in her voice. The shoal loosens around her shoulders as she laughs and stumbles in the sand, and she looks at her hand in yours in such an adoration it almost frightens her. The night is beautiful, she thinks, you are beautiful, and it feels so beautiful to be alive.

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝘕𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢.

yandere! diluc ragnvindr headcanons.

For a man that's known for his splendid wealth, impeccable intelligence and sharp tounge Master Diluc sure does often trip on his words whenever he talks to you. You tease him but it's all in good fun, you certainly don't mind. It's amusing to see such a prideful man succumb to these miniscule little things that don't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

That's not what Diluc thinks though. They're only miniscule to you, but to him, they can either make or break his day.

The love he feels for you suddenly sparked into life one day and he's not sure how and why that occured. He analyzes it through and through - was he charmed by your smile? No, your smile was always pleasant. Was it the way you spoke, so freely and sweetly, like a little bird at dawn? Ah, it was so cute to listen to you ramble, please don't ever shut up. Diluc often finds himself closing his eyes and blocks out the entire world around him and he only focuses on the sound of your voice, it's so soothing to him. He doesn't care what you talk about he just wants to hear you speak for hours and hours. It's therapeutic to him, but he's too shy to tell you that. He does try to compromise by asking if you'd like to sing for him. Don't worry there's no need for a crowd, it can be just the two of you in his manor, besides he can already play a few instruments so feel free to pick whichever one you like the most.

Diluc is so tender with you, but it gets frustrating. He treats you like a bird, he tries to limit your movements and freedom in any way he can, and his patronizing nature also does cloud his judgement from time to time. He feels all of this anger bubbling inside of him, your angry and sad faces frustrate him endlessly but he never lays a hand on you, not even a finger, never ever. You're just too precious too him, too soft and delicate to break, too precious to lose. He often gives you the hot and cold treatment which is also something that's tough to deal with - one moment he's stands so close to you, his lips hover over your own as he looks down at you with those blazing red eyes of his, the fire of obsession burns strongly deep within them. They temp but also scare you. They threaten to swallow you whole right then and there, to burn you to ashes but Diluc will be there to fix you right up. He'll knock some sense into you, he will keep you safe and show you the right path, the only path. In his hands you will transform from a tiny bird into a mighty phoenix that's ready to soar the sky and burn anything that gets in its way.

... those are the same exact wings Diluc might just end up clipping later down the line.

How could he be so foolish, allowing you so much freedom? He spoils you, he gives you anything you could ask for, he just can't help himself. It's like you cast a spell on him and the grip you have over him gets tighter day by day. But he needs to get his head out of the gutter and put his foot down. He loves you, he loves you so much he can't even fathom it into words but damn it all if he can't protect you. Even the smallest bruise causes him to panic and he's already all over you. He bandages and kisses the pain away, it often makes you feel embarrassed actually. He dotes and caresses you, but never touches you like he so obviously wants to. He will snap one day, and he will have you in his arms.

Diluc Ragnvindr burns for you. He burns brighter than any fire that ever has and ever will be lit, and you're the one who lit the match.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER HCS🥶 — 3. FEZCO

A/N: why is it so difficult to find gifs of my fav ginger man? Sheesh! Always have to venture off to google if I can’t find what I need up here. I was looking for a more smiley gif but we have to work with what we got right? Gif belongs to its rightful owner ofc! Who else is excited for season two? We have six more weeks to go but I’m also excited to see what they do with Dominic Fike’s character although I know he’s only supposed to be in three episodes and he’s apparently tied to rue and Jules so that’ll probably be a mess. I also heard Lil Meech is supposed to be in it? If all goes well there might be some works about them too from me…but we’ll see!

Warnings: fluffy moments + reader being a slight cottage core whore?

Situational prompt: snowmen/snow angels + first snow/mittens

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Fez was a city boy—a super trapper lmao so when you invited him to spend the weekend up at your godparents ranch he looked at you as if you said some outta pocket shit to him

“Whatchu about to feed me out there, y/n? bison burgers or sum and have me singing old Macdonald had a farm 24 hrs a day?” Fez teased as he brought his joint back up this lips

You rolled your eyes going to shove his shoulder, “I can’t with you! don’t knock it until you try it. Plus it’s actually therapeutic going up there so I thought I’d offer, if you don’t want to I can absolutely find someone else or just chill by myself—you know I don’t care.”

Fez snorted at you, “I’ll see if I can move some things around and make sure Ashtray can handle it and get back to you, ma.”

Usually “I’ll see” when it came from YOU meant go on about your business because you wouldn’t be doing it or attending but with fez he usually always meant that he would get back to you

He ended up letting you know that he was down for the ride that Thursday night and the both of you left the city Friday afternoon with you driving

Fez offered to drive as long as you had the GPS on since he had no idea where tf any ranches where located (also he wasn’t sure how you managed to get a license with the way you drove but you weren’t backing down from being in charge on this weekend trip)

The ride was a solid two hours up in the mountains and fez knew this was a whole different vibe with snow already on the ground and colorful spread out houses

You stopped at a general store with you announcing that the house was another ten-fifteen minutes away while fez got out to stretch his legs

Eventually he made his way inside while you socialized with an older indigenous woman who looked more than happy to see you

This store wasn’t that big but it was packed with all antique items and snacks

From the corner of his eye he already saw you with a basket with some items in it as you chatted with the woman up front, fez found himself shaking his head at you since you only stopped to get some gas—yet you were buying other shit you probably didn’t need

He picked up a baby skeleton that honestly creeped him out but he knew ashtray would probably like something like this. He wasn’t buying that shit tho as he placed it back down on the cloth covered table and saw some weird photos that looked like a butcher man, and some witches…

He found himself looking over at you again, he silently hoped you didn’t bring him up here to kill his ass or sacrifice him or some shit. He already unwillingly watched the new paranormal activity with you, ash, and rue the other day and this is exactly what this mountain town was giving him

“Who’s the lucky fella that keeps looking at you?” The woman at the counter didn’t bother to keep her voice down

Your eyes met fez’s and smirked, “oh that’s just my—

“Boyfriend? You make a very cute couple. I can already tell from his aura he’s much better than the last one.” The woman rambled on as she began ringing up your items

Fez made his way over, his signature small smile appearing on his lips as he greeted the woman who sent the two of you a knowing smile

You nudged his shoulder with yours earning a laugh from the freckled face boy with the royal blue beanie sticking up on top of his head

He took most of the bags for you while you carried one and made your way back outside to the car

Fez rested his bomber covered arms on top of the car as he looked over at you watching as you began pumping the gas

“Damn, y/n. I didn’t know we were a couple?”

You bit back, “we could be but you keep playing like you don’t want this.” You flicked your hair back

“Is this whole trip your way of persuading me?”

You shrugged, “yeah I might buss it open on the lake for you, watch out.”

Fez let out a laugh, licking his bottom lip as he shook his head at you pulling the car door open as the wind picked up, “you a whole trip, y/n.”

“That’s why you love me.” You sang turning back to watch the numbers start to slow down

And off the two of you went to your godparents ranch

The drive just to get to the actual farmhouse was insane, the pathway seemed to carry on forever as the both of you rocked to side as the car rolled through the thick of it

“Home sweet home,” you sighed staring at the home you had many memories inside of and would be sharing with your bestie

Fez was ready to get inside of the house, personally not being a fan of road trips or anything of that nature. He was used to staying where he was used to so the whole rural area was new to him

You moved around the empty house in ease while Fez was standing around unsure what exactly to do while also eyeing the house

Eventually he met you in the kitchen after he saw you messing with the thermostat

“What’s that?” Fez asked leaning against the island as you pulled out your purchases

Glancing over your shoulder you smiled, “canning. Preserves: we have strawberry, raspberry, peach, spicy pear, and apple butter jam.” You explained

Fez dipped his head sticking his tongue into his cheek, “so you couldn’t pick anything simple like blueberry or grape? We’re really gonna be out here eating berries and snow huh?”

Laughing you closed the cabinet and spun to rest your hands back on the counter, “maybe you’ll stop complaining once you put that sweater I bought for you on so we can go have some fun.”

Fez felt his brows furrowing a bit as he grabbed one of the bags and dragged it over to him. He pulled the black and white horizontal fleece up and smiled, “this jawn thick. I didn’t expect nice clothes in that creepy store.”

“You’re gonna stop trash talking my girl Dyani’s place. Her selection of antiques are unique, okay?”

Fez shifted his eyes to the side and nonchalantly said, “okay sure whatever if you like staring at baby skeletons for fun.”

“There was not a baby skeleton there! You made that up.”

“I know what I saw, y/n.”

“You sure you weren’t a little too fried?”

“I didn’t even light up—aight you got it. Thanks for the sweater.” Fez ended the rising disagreement in which you grinned in satisfaction

You tapped your nails on the counter before you nodded your head, “there’s a half bath around the corner if you want to wash up or whatever. I’m going to get started on dinner.”

“Coo.” Fez replied as he took the sweater with him and went back around the house to collect his bags that sat by the sitting room before carrying on to the said half bath

Fez made himself busy in the living room catching up on black ink Chicago while you tended to the kitchen. He knew to stay out of your way and honestly hoped you were whipping up some fried salad or something

He was pleased to enter the kitchen the third time to see you lighting up some colorful candlesticks, you turned to him hearing his footsteps and pressed a fist into your hip with a look

“You can sit, everything’s ready now.”

Fez rubbed his hands together in excitement as he plopped down on one side of the square table in front of the window

“It’s beef stroganoff.” You announced placing the candle lighter back on the island as fez began to dig in before he lifted his head to ask with him mouth full

You presented the sprite cranberry bottle with a knowing smile before pouring it into a ridged martini glass you found and then poured some into your own before plopping down in front of fez

He was all smug as he took the glass and held it out to clink against yours, “real king and queen shit.”

“The first compliment of the evening, woo!” You winked placing the glass down to dig into the meal you prepared

The both of you fell into comfortable small conversation just enjoying each other company and half way through the dinner you heard it before you pulled the curtain back to confirm it

Fez followed your gaze to see some thick snow tumbling down and your whole entire frame was beaming

Scrapping your chair back you shoved more food into your mouth before jogging out of the kitchen

Fez looked over his shoulder at your disappearing frame before he shrugged and went back to finishing the rest of his own meal

You caught him off guard as you came back into the kitchen snatching his hands and shoving some mittens that fit just right over his freckled hands, “um…??”

“Let’s go.” His eyes met yours to see you all dressed up for winter war and he leaned toward to look back at out the window

“Naaah, I’m straight.” Fez drawled out.

“I’m not asking.” You began pulling on his arm

Fez kissed his teeth, “you’re not about to bully me to go outside in that! I don’t know much about snow but I personally don’t think I’d be a fan.”

“Again. You don’t know unless you try it, expand your horizons, fezzy.”

And that’s when fez sighed taking in your expression. He had to take it all into consideration, you did invite him out here for the weekend and you were being so kind with your hospitality so the least he could do was go out into the snow war and do whatever the hell it was that you wanted to do

He regretted that the moment he stood on the porch and that wind slapped him across his face

Fez wasn’t used to this snow. It barely did any of what he was experiencing back home, maybe a coating or flurries was the least you all got. This was something else and he was a little shook

However you were a sight to see spinning around in the front yard so carefree with the snow almost making it hard for him to keep his eyes on you

The snow was getting in his long eyelashes and he had to keep wiping the flakes away but ofc they melted before he could do so

Suddenly you stopped and held out a mitten covered hand out for fez, waving him forward and he puffed out a breath that swirled out into the air in response

Cautiously he stomped down the thick snow covered steps and made his way over to you, hands shoved in his pockets before he got over to you

He pulled his hand back out knowing you wanted to be cute and hold his hand

As soon as he placed his mitten hand in yours, you threw the both of you back into the snow

“Yo! Are you serious?” Fez tried to glance at you while you laughed and go of your hand to start waving your arms and legs creating a snow Angel

Fez shook his head at you in disbelief and then let out a small laugh before slowly doing the same

“Mine’s better.” You announced when the both of you got back up after some time of laying there together

Fez scoffed, “whatever? Can we make a snowman?”

You grinned over at the ginger, “of course we can, Fezsa! And mine will still be cuter than yours. I’m gonna wash you!”

Fez rolled his eyes at the new nickname silently begging you not to start singing that shit and stepped back taking the threat, “see me then!”

And the competition began trying to build your own snowmen while the snow continued to accumulate above your heads

Ofc this didn’t go without the both of you trying to sabotage each other’s snowmen until you both were pleased with your work

You sniffed and snapped a pic for your poll on ig for your followers to judge the better one without letting them know who was who’s

Fez was the one to drag you back into the house saying you’ll both get hyperthermia and rested your wet clothes in the designated room to dry

You announced you would make some tea while fez went off to take a hot shower

When he came back downstairs you weren’t around but he silently listened to hear some water running which meant you went to take your own shower too

“Y/n got me out here drinking tea too.” Fez breathed out a laugh as he brought the set back into the living room and tossed some blankets on the ground

He wrapped one around his head and shoulders as he waited for you, not bothering to turn the tv back on. The deadly silence was actually nice and he could see why you liked coming up here to get away from the rush back at home

“Boo.” You whispered making fez flinch while you laughed as you sat beside him, snatching up another blanket to wrap around your shoulders too

“Always playin’.” Fez laughed as he took a sip from the fine China

You pressed your nose into fez’s shoulder for a moment before resting your head against his shoulder

“Thanks for bringing me out here for real.”

“Of course. I knew we both needed it.”

Fez nodded as he took another sip the both of you sitting in silence, “…You know my snowman is winning right?”

Your head snapped up to meet Fez’s marble colored eyes, “bullshit.”

“I told you your head was too lopsided. You didn’t roll it right. It’s giving more cracked out polar bear than snowman.”

You snorted, “idc yours is still ugly. It doesn’t even have a nose.”

“That’s not the people are saying.” Fez teased dipping his head towards yours

“Fuck them. You’re no snowman expert.” You fanned your hands ready to get up and check to see how they were holding up in the snow

Until you realized fez was looking at you like he was in love and you smiled softly at him, “fez…”

Before you could say more he collided your lips together and you melted against him tasting the tea from his lips

You suddenly pulled away searching his eyes and was smug, “Finally! I knew you love me, wanna wife me.”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” He pulled a free hand out from underneath the blanket he had securely wrapped around his frame and guided you by the chin by to his lips

You couldn’t help but to laugh some more while you reached around to take the tea and place carefully on the dining table while keeping your lips together

Fez welcomed you into his lap, holding you tightly against him as you carried on stealing each other’s breath through your kisses

It took you to break the kiss for fez to continue peppering kisses along your neck making you shudder with each kiss and suck

You realized you should’ve invited fez up here a long time ago…shout-out to the snowmen tho!

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Continue along with my anthology December prompts here.