#well there's that problem solved back to embroidery

[gloriousmonsters]

koume and kotake were like 400 years old... y'all think they raised any other kings?

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Intoxication [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

wc: 9.2k

Summary: when Spencer and reader accidentally consume aphrodisiacs, it seems impossible to maintain control of themselves. It all comes down to who will lose their mind first.

warnings: +18, mdni!! alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, unintentional use of aphrodisiacs, explicit descriptions, oral (f receiving) fingering, kissing, porn with plot, p in v, protected sex, no y/n!

It had been just over half an hour since I entered the fraternity building, fully aware that within the first second, I’d feel the need to leave. Attending any gathering wasn’t a regular thing for me. The noise, the crowds, and the multitude of germs everywhere were reason enough to avoid them.

However, that time, I thought, why not? I had never been to one of those university parties and wanted to experience it. However, I never considered the fact that, to enjoy one, you either: a) went with a group of friends or b) drank until you forgot your name and the discomfort you felt about yourself. I didn’t have the first option, nor did I want to do the second. So, after a few minutes of reflection, I decided I would walk back to my apartment and go straight to bed.

The place was huge, and since my postgraduate program didn’t include the benefit of dormitories, I rarely found myself in places like that. I was about to leave when a hand grabbed my forearm to stop me. In front of me, smiling widely, was her. The moment I saw her, I could swear my face lit up.

“Hi”

“Spencer! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Without letting go of my arm, she came closer, wrapping me in a hug and planting a kiss on my cheek before I could react.

I quickly glanced at her, and in the dim light, I noticed her wearing a fitted, spaghetti-strap dress in a deep burgundy red with delicate floral embroidery that looked hand-drawn on the sheer fabric. The material, likely chiffon or tulle, clung to her figure as if custom-made. I tried to focus on her leather jacket instead because the last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable by staring too long.

“I was just about to leave, actually.”

“Why?” she asked, noticing my sigh.

“It’s just... I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, that problem is now solved,” she kindly murmured.

I didn’t even get the chance to respond when she had already walked over to another girl, whispering something in her ear, probably to let her know she’d be away for a while.

Even though I wanted to decline to stay, the truth was that I genuinely enjoyed her company. Rejecting her would have been too rude. We had met some time ago thanks to the advanced classes she took, which overlapped with mine. She was younger than me, of course, but only by one or two years.

She had always been kind to me, attentive, and one could say she was a friend. After all, I trusted her enough to let her hold my hand and guide me through the crowd, despite my aversion to physical contact… and people.

“It’d be a crime to let you leave so early after finally coming to a party,” she breathed once we were both seated on a tiny couch where the noise was slightly muffled. At least she had been considerate in that regard.

“I don’t even know why I came,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. She was leaning against one side, legs crossed, looking at me with a smile. “I don’t like parties.”

“Do you like drinking?” she asked. I shook my head “Maybe that’s the root of the problem.”

“Getting drunk to the point of losing control isn’t my thing,” I replied.

“That’s not what it’s about,” she murmured almost compassionately “It’s more like… fuel for your social battery, you know? You don’t have to deal with these people. I don’t even know half of them, but the guys in this fraternity are disgustingly rich and just want to get as many girls drunk as possible to sleep with whoever they can. They won’t mind if you drink a little. Enough to have fun, but not so much you end up in some stranger’s bed.”

I thought about it for a second and silently nodded. I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her by saying I didn’t want to drink because, come on, what kind of university student doesn’t drink?

“I understand your point, and I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but alcohol has a more complex impact than it seems. It’s not just something that ‘fuels your social battery’; it’s a central nervous system depressant, which means it slows down brain and motor functions. That initial feeling of euphoria or relaxation happens because it inhibits the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain that regulates judgment and self-awareness. So, technically, drinking a little might make you feel more uninhibited or confident, but it can also impair your ability to make rational decisions if you overdo it, even if you don’t notice right away.”

I paused, gauging how much more I should say before losing her interest. Hearing no objections, I continued:

“Additionally, strong liquors, which have high ethanol concentrations, can hit your system faster than diluted drinks. And if you drink too quickly, you could easily exceed your liver’s ability to metabolize the alcohol. The excess ethanol stays in your bloodstream, raising your blood alcohol levels and increasing the risk of intoxication.”

I avoided looking directly at her, partly because I didn’t want to get distracted by her gaze and partly because I was nervous around her.

“It’s not that I want to ruin your fun, but if you’re going to drink, you should do it slowly, alternating with water, and never on an empty stomach. Not to seem smarter than everyone else, but because staying in control can be the difference between a fun night and a situation you don’t want to be in.”

I expected her to look bored, confused, or even indifferent, assuming she’d left halfway through my rambling. But when I looked at her, I was surprised by the admiration shining in her eyes, accompanied by an amused smile.

“All right, genius boy, if you know all that and basically have the perfect recipe for not making stupid mistakes while drinking, why do you still refuse?” she teased playfully. I didn’t know what to say, but luckily, she answered for me “Listen, I drove here. How about we make a deal? We can drink a little, have a good time, maybe dance if you want, and if either of us starts doing something embarrassing, the soberest one will make sure to drag the other to the car and drive them home. Deal?”

She handed me her car keys, and I wasn’t sure if the brush of her hand against mine was intentional or if she had decided to linger a little longer.

I agreed to her proposal, and a second later, she was already off her seat, walking toward where I assumed the kitchen was. No one noticed us entering, too absorbed in their own business to care if we were strangers.

There was every type of alcohol scattered around, and she took the liberty of pouring me a shot of a clear liquid, which I guessed was vodka. She warned me to drink it in one gulp, and when the warmth hit my throat, I barely managed to avoid coughing. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“Tastes like… strawberry.”

“It’s good, right?” she laughed, giving my shoulder a playful nudge.

Our previous seat was already taken, so she opted for us to stand in a quiet corner. I have to admit that, although I still felt slightly awkward, the vodka was having the desired effect; making me feel more animated to talk.

Talking to her was almost hypnotic. Maybe it was the rhythmic movement of her lips, still stained with traces of what had once been red lipstick, or perhaps it was her tone, but it made me feel like I had to watch her. She never faltered when she spoke, always exuding confidence and calm, no matter the topic.

On the other hand, whenever I responded, I completely lost focus. No matter what I said, she kept looking at me with a wide smile, nodding, and even leaning closer when something made her laugh. But her laugh wasn’t mocking—no, it was as if she genuinely found my intellectual jokes or nonsensical remarks funny.

Gradually, my glass emptied, and she guided me back to the kitchen, serving us moderately but consistently. After an hour, all my nerves had vanished, leaving only a normal guy enjoying the terrible background music, unconcerned about how dirty the place was, and utterly captivated by the woman next to him.

“It’s strange, you know? I didn’t think I’d enjoy something like this. Parties always seemed so… chaotic,”

She looked around with a slight smile.

“That’s true. They’re not exactly calm, but in a way, the chaos has its charm. It lets you leave everything else behind for a while.”

“I suppose you’re right. Sometimes, you just need to disconnect.”

“You seem less tense now, huh? Are you sure it’s not the vodka helping with that?”

She moved closer, almost leaning against my chest in a friendly way, and seeing her looking up at me made my face feel hot.

“Maybe. But it’s also largely due to the company.”

She seemed surprised by my sudden boldness and let out a laugh that I interpreted as a sign of approval. We continued drinking, laughing, and soon my stomach demanded food. Even in my slightly tipsy state, I still remembered that eating would help lessen the effects of the alcohol.

I have to admit that the way I held her waist to guide her to the kitchen was entirely intentional. However, she didn’t seem bothered by the contact. By this point, I’d realized that no one really cared about what we took or didn’t take, so we felt free to rummage through the pantry.

“There are chips, pretzels, Cheetos, some cookies...” she began listing, handing me each package she found.

I grabbed a stray cookie, and suddenly, she let out a sigh of admiration.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate,” she murmured happily. It was a half-eaten, luxurious-looking golden package with no label “Do you want some?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Chocolate has properties that can slightly boost energy and mood. Both alcohol and chocolate can be hard for the body to handle, especially with a combination of high sugar and alcohol content. This can lead to stomach discomfort, dizziness, or a stronger hangover the next day.”

But she wasn’t listening. She had already popped a sizeable piece of chocolate into her mouth. Immediately, she offered me a piece, slightly bigger than hers.

“You have to try it,” she moaned.

I resisted, but I have to admit that the fact she grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer caught me off guard enough to let her slip the chocolate into my mouth.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later.”

It was delicious, that’s for sure. Like a pair of sneaky raccoons, we kept scavenging for snacks in the kitchen until we were satisfied. She grabbed a bag of chips, and I took the bag of pretzels.

After our little break, she poured us another round of drinks, and something inside me told me it was time to stop. I decided that would be my last glass for the night.

Let’s dance she suddenly whispered, and once again, I let her lead me toward the crowd.

I didn’t know how to dance; I think that was pretty obvious. But the situation managed to make me forget that fact.

She was patient with me and laughed every time I made a mistake. Even though there was smoke around me, probably from weed, that didn't stop me from staring intently, and even somewhat intimidated, at my friend. Beautiful, statuesque, and drunk friend.

We danced for a long time until something in her swaying movements, in the way she smiled at me, began to make my head spin. It was as if the atmosphere was charged with something more—something I couldn’t identify at first.

She leaned closer, and my pulse began to quicken slightly. Her hands rose to tangle in my neck, bringing a warm sensation that followed: my thoughts seemed clearer, sharper. I wondered if it was the alcohol, but then something different began to course through my skin.

The warmth intensified, not just in my body but in my mind as well. I felt more alert, more awake, yet the calmness of the vodka lingered, balancing the sensation. My skin felt more sensitive, as if every little touch sent vibrations through me in a more intense way.

My eyes focused more on her movements, her voice, and the way the air filled with her perfume. I wanted to get closer, as if there were an invisible force pulling me toward her. And though my body responded with a soft yearning, my mind remained present, conscious of every second.

By the way she was looking at me, I imagined I wasn’t the only one experiencing these kinds of emotions.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we sit down for a moment? I’m completely sweaty, and the smell of weed is starting to bother me.”

“Of course.”

My hands rested on her waist, unsure of where else to go, and we stumbled out of the crowd, finding a couch to collapse onto.

I was sweaty too, and we were both breathing heavily. When I saw her lean her head back against the seat, leaving her neck exposed, something stirred inside me.

“You move well, Reid.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I mean it. You just need a little confidence,” she smiled. Perhaps the alcohol dulled her sense of personal space, which is why she leaned so close to me. “You’re so smart that, with a bit of practice, you’d be the most skilled at a lot of physical activities.”

Did she know how nervous she was making me? My face was already flushed from the alcohol, the effort, and now from the way she was looking at me while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

I wanted to say something else, but a voice interrupted mine: a tall, burly guy accompanied by two others who seemed to be flanking him. Probably a member of the fraternity hosting the party.

He specifically addressed her, asking how she was enjoying the party and throwing in a compliment, clearly with ulterior motives. For a moment, I felt disheartened. Of course, she could have gone with him and I would have understood. I was far too used to rejection.

“I’m having a great time—with my friend. Thanks,” she exclaimed, cordial but curt.

“Want a drink?”

“Honestly, no.”

By the uncomfortable smile she gave the men, I assumed she was politely ending the conversation. With some reluctance, the guys walked away.

Suddenly, my breath caught when I felt her hand rest on my thigh, sliding painfully slowly down to my knee. I couldn’t even hear her words over the heat of her fingers on my pants.

“Sorry?”

“I thought you were going to say something, earlier.”

“No,” I quickly replied, smiling like an idiot because of the way she had leaned toward me. “Nothing.”

“I like listening to you. You know so many things, and you don’t make me feel dumb when you explain them. That’s very sexy.”

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, because I’d replied in a voice an octave higher than normal. “You are very sexy.”

Her compliment was followed by a soft, distracted kiss on the line of my jaw, which sent my brain into overdrive.

“Uhm… you… you’re beautiful. Very beautiful.”

My clumsy compliment seemed to please her, and I felt one of her nails, long and painted black, tracing circles on the skin of my knee. Each small movement felt deliberate, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Did you know fireflies don’t just glow to communicate but also to… attract?”

Her voice broke the silence between us, soft but layered with a double meaning that made me lift my eyes to her.

“Yes, I know,” I responded automatically, my brain switching to autopilot. “Bioluminescent signals are a form of courtship. The light patterns vary by species and can be very specific.”

She turned her head toward me, her lips curving into a lazy smile.

“Of course you’d know that. But tell me something—do you think it actually works? Making someone notice you just by glowing?”

My throat went dry. There was something about the way she was looking at me, like she was expecting a more personal answer than a scientific one.

“I guess it depends on who you’re trying to attract,” I murmured, feeling ridiculously exposed under her gaze.

“That makes sense.”

Her hand slid slightly—barely noticeable—toward the edge of my knee. After tapping her fingers on my pants, she withdrew it.

She didn’t move from the couch, and neither did I. There was something about her posture that held me captive—the way she leaned back against the seat, relaxed yet naturally elegant. Her dress had ridden up slightly along her thighs, revealing more skin than I felt prepared to handle at that moment. I tried to look elsewhere, but it was as if my eyes had a will of their own, always returning to the same place.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, of course,” I replied quickly, turning my head in the other direction. Perhaps too quickly, because my neck cracked slightly in the process.

She didn’t say anything, but her suppressed laughter made me feel even more awkward. In the silence that followed, I forced myself to focus on something safer: the empty glass on the table, the flickering lights through the window, anything but the curve of her leg or the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” she commented suddenly, with almost theatrical casualness. Then, without warning, she leaned forward as if to adjust her shoe, causing the neckline of her dress to dip even further.

“Do you think so?” I muttered, my voice raspier than I intended.

She smiled, a gesture somewhere between innocence and knowing.

“Yes, definitely. Though maybe it’s because we’re sitting so close,” she said, glancing around as if she had only just noticed the temperature.

Her words felt like both a slap and a caress at the same time. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on her face, but it didn’t help that her eyes shone with a kind of mischievous intent. Then she lifted one leg, bending it to get more comfortable on the couch, and her knee accidentally brushed against my thigh.

“Did you know you have a very particular way of distracting yourself?” she remarked while toying with the hem of her dress, as if unaware of the chaos she was causing in my head.

“Do I?” my voice sounded weak, almost a whisper.

She nodded slowly, leaning in a bit closer until I could feel the warmth of her proximity.

“Yes. It’s like you’re trying to avoid something but… you can’t.”

My throat went dry. I wanted to say something clever, to steer the conversation away, anything to regain some ground. But instead, all that came out was a nervous, forced laugh.

She didn’t stop looking at me. Then, with exasperating slowness, she smoothed the fabric of her dress over her thigh—a casual gesture.

“You know, sometimes you seem so self-aware. It’s something that can be endearing, but also… well, how do I put it?” she paused for a moment, bringing a finger to her lips as if she were reflecting. “It makes you seem easier to impress.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing, Reid. It’s just me rambling” her voice softened, and I felt the lightest touch on my nose as her finger grazed it. I tried to ignore the fact that her gaze had lingered on my lips “Scattered thoughts I have in my head.”

Without warning, she let out a loud exhale and leaned back into the couch, arching her back as if trying to relieve some muscle tension. I know she probably wasn’t aware of the movement, but it was what finally made me lose the little composure I had left.

“I need to use the restroom. Can you give me a moment?”

I escaped. Cowardly, completely, I got up and practically bolted toward the bathroom, desperate for a moment of peace. As soon as I entered, I realized I had an obvious problem in my pants—I was hard as a rock, and that wasn’t good. I looked at myself in the mirror, surprised at how flushed my face was. My pupils were dilated, my lips dry… What the hell was happening to me?

It quickly became clear that she was the reason for my situation.

The alcohol prevented me from feeling the embarrassment I surely deserved, and instead, I felt like my head was spinning. I placed a hand over the fabric of my pants, letting out a frustrated, pained groan.

I stayed there for a while, trying to think of something that would make my erection go away, but nothing worked. A couple of knocks on the door startled me, and that forced me to leave. Once in the hallway, I walked for a bit until I bumped into someone.

“Spencer! I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?”

“No! I mean, yes… it’s just…”

I needed to think of something quickly—something believable, but not catastrophic. However, it was hard to concentrate with her body so close to mine, mere inches away from her noticing my situation.

“Did you throw up?”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s nothing. I think the vodka didn’t sit well with me, uh, maybe I got dizzy from dancing, I don’t know. I think it’s best if I leave.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pouting “I’ll take you home right now.”

“I can take a cab.”

“Nonsense. That was our agreement, remember? If one of us was in bad shape, the other would take care of them. Plus, I was the one who encouraged you to drink. I’d feel bad if something happened to you.”

She was already putting on her jacket—she’d been holding it, probably suspecting the situation—and tried to find the keys in her pocket. My outstretched hand reminded her that she’d already given them to me earlier.

When she placed her hand on the small of my back to guide me out, my breathing deepened. The sensation of excitement coursed through me in a way I couldn’t ignore. I realized that something in me desperately wanted her. Too much.

It wasn’t an impulsive desire but a subtle one that had been building throughout the night—with every glance, every gesture. Perhaps the vodka had intensified my evident attraction to her, but whatever the reason, it had turned into something far more palpable.

It was almost as if my body was begging me to stop her right then and there, to kiss her recklessly, and maybe, just maybe, ease the relentless ache inside me.

The cool night air made me feel better, and as the noise faded behind us, I began to calm down. I fervently tried to hide the bulge in my pants, but the truth was she didn’t even seem to notice. Then again, it would’ve been strange to catch her staring at my crotch, right?

“Are you sure you’re in a condition to drive?”

“I’ve driven home in far worse states of drunkenness. Don’t worry,” she smiled.

She looked more lucid now, as if her intoxication had vanished in an instant. I decided to trust her abilities.

The drive home was silent, and I kept shifting in my seat, trying to find strategic positions to avoid embarrassment. I guess she attributed my silence to the supposed discomfort I was feeling, as she didn’t try to start a conversation.

She didn’t say anything when she caught me looking at her through the rearview mirror. It was an innocent glance, at least on my part, simply admiring her. Her lips were driving me crazy, her eyes, slightly narrowed from the lack of light and smudged with mascara, seemed the most beautiful to me. I didn’t know what she saw in me, but I think—no, I feel—that it was something she liked.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home… and for everything.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

“We should do this more often.”

“Go to university parties?”

“Just go out in general. To a bar, grab some drinks, a coffee, the library if you’d prefer,” she laughed “The place doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re there.”

Was she implying she wanted a date with me? I swallowed hard and looked at her, trying to decipher what she wanted me to do. I couldn’t figure it out.

“I’d like that, yes. We can talk about that later. Thanks again for the ride.”

A kiss on my cheek marked her goodbye, and I rushed out, eager to get inside my apartment. I was about to unlock the building’s door when the sound of a car horn made me turn around.

“Hey, would you mind if I use your bathroom? I’ll be quick,” she promised.

I needed to get to the shower and turn on the cold water, but I didn’t protest when she turned off the car engine.

Almost no one visited me in the apartment, so I kept the space however I pleased. It wasn’t really messy, but there were plenty of things on the desk and several books scattered around.

She entered, as she had said, rushing to the bathroom. It was only then that I dared to put a hand over my pants, swallowing a moan that was about to escape from my throat.

In my limited sexual experiences, nothing like this had ever happened to me, and I wondered what the cause might have been. Alcohol couldn’t be blamed, of course, but it was responsible for ruining my ability to react enough to find another explanation.

The shirt began to feel heavy on me, and almost out of necessity, I undid the first buttons to let myself breathe. I tried to ventilate my skin by tugging at the fabric with the tips of my fingers, but it was useless. I sighed.

I glanced around the room, just wanting to make sure nothing was embarrassing in view, and at that moment, she came out of the bathroom. She looked flushed and had some wet hair, as if she had washed her face.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just… suddenly felt a bit feverish”

“Let me check”

My intentions were purely medical when I cupped her face with one hand, putting the back of the other against her forehead to confirm or deny my suspicions. Of course, I hadn’t considered how close we would be. Or maybe I had, subconsciously, and that’s why I moved forward.

My choice of words wasn't the best either.

“You’re hot,”

“I don’t think it’s as much as you.”

A daring smile slid across her lips, and I held my breath as her fingers traced up to the line of my collarbone, exposed by my shirt.

“Why are you saying that?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s just… I don’t understand it.”

A soft laugh echoed in my ears.

“Well, I think you’re very handsome. Would there be any other reason for that?”

I swallowed deeply. She noticed the movement of my Adam’s apple.

“No… I think… I think not. It’s the most logical thing.”

“Don’t they tell you that often?” she murmured, genuinely confused. I shook my head “That’s a shame.”

Her hand, which had been tentatively caressing my skin, moved up to my neck and pulled me just a few inches closer to her.

“Hey, Spencer.”

“Yes?”

“Could I kiss you?”

A chill ran down my spine. And without thinking, I answered yes.

Her mouth found mine with a softness that contrasted with the whirlwind of sensations inside me. It was a heady contrast: the sweetness of her lips against the intensity of the desire that had been building up in every fiber of my being.

My hands instinctively moved to her waist, hesitating for a moment, as if fearing that this might just be a product of my imagination. But she didn’t hesitate. Her body leaned into me, closing any distance that remained.

Her lips were insistent, demanding, and before I could process what was happening, her hand slid down to my chest, pushing me gently back until my back collided with the wall.

“I’m sorry…” I managed to murmur between kisses, pulling my face slightly away. My voice came out more trembly than I wanted.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her face toward mine, her fingers now brushing my jawline.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“For this” my gaze dropped quickly before returning to her eyes. “No… I didn’t want you to feel it. It’s embarrassing.”

For a moment, I thought she would pull away, that the spell of the moment would break. But instead, her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Embarrassing? I thought I was the only one feeling all this tension,” her tone was low, almost a whisper, but filled with a certainty that made my breath grow even more erratic.

Before I could respond, her lips captured mine again, this time with more intensity. The kiss was everything I didn’t know I needed: desperate, intoxicating, completely consumed by the connection between us. I felt her body press against mine, her curves fitting perfectly as if they were made to be there. And then, all my doubts, all my attempts to hold back, vanished.

My mind was a whirlwind. Every touch of her lips, every time her tongue sought mine, was like a fire I couldn’t put out. My face was hot, yes, but now not because of the alcohol, not even from the effort of holding myself back. It was her closeness, her touch, her condescending voice still echoing in my head.

She knows what she’s doing. And she’s slowly killing me.

“Hey, wait…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you feel okay with this?”

“A lot. Do you want to stop?”

“No. It’s just that… you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you” my voice came out hoarse, full of doubt and repressed desire.

Her eyes met mine, firm and warm at the same time, as if her gaze could completely disarm me.

“Relax. You’ve been drinking too, pretty, and I think if anyone could make that accusation, it would be you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?”

“No”

“I’m fully aware of everything. I don’t even feel drunk anymore. The only thing that’s making me dizzy right now is you, Spencer…”

I shivered when I heard my name on her lips like that. She continued:

“I’m just as anxious as you are. I’ve been holding back all night, trying not to make this too obvious, but I can’t anymore. Please, don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt what I want. I want you”

Her confession hit my heart like a blow and ignited a spark that set my entire body on fire. My hand moved up her back until it tangled in her hair, while the other rested on her hip. The pull was gentle but enough for her to understand that my inner struggle had ended. I wasn’t resisting this anymore.

I wanted her too. I wanted her now.

“I never imagined…”

My words were barely audible as our lips brushed in a kiss that was both an explosion of emotions and a long-awaited relief. Her mouth was soft, and so perfectly synchronized with mine that I felt like the world stopped at that moment.

Her hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring the connection between us, while my thumb traced a slow path along her jawline, savoring every detail of her skin. It was more than a kiss. It was the confirmation of something that had been lingering all evening.

When we parted just a centimeter to breathe, our foreheads stayed pressed together.

“Did that clear your doubts?”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say all that,” I replied with a weak smile, the only one my pounding heart allowed me to form.

“Then stop overthinking”

The space between us disappeared again as we kissed with desperation we had both been suppressing. Her low laugh vibrated against my lips, and I couldn’t help but smile. How did she do it? How did she drive me crazy with so little effort?

But now wasn’t the time for questions. It was time to feel.

The whole world had reduced itself to him: his warm breath, his lips that wavered between soft and desperate, and the hands that roamed my waist with a mix of reverence and clumsiness, making me want him even more. Spencer had always been an enigma to me, a balance between restraint and passion that I didn't know how to decipher... until now.

I had waited for this moment more than I would ever admit. Maybe it had been the way he looked at me when he thought I didn't notice, or the warmth in his voice when he said my name, as if it were something sacred. But now, with his body pressed against mine and his doubts finally gone, I knew I hadn't imagined anything.

It was as if the pieces of a puzzle I had been trying to put together in the dark finally clicked into place, and the resulting image was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed.

Wanting to reverse the roles, it was now him who gently pushed me against the wall, and I felt the control he always seemed to have begin to crack. His breath was heavy, his body trembling slightly, a sign that this was as new and overwhelming for him as it was for me.

"Spencer..." I murmured his name again, feeling it resonate in my chest at the same time his lips moved more intensely against mine. "Can I ask you something?"

I received an affirmative exhalation, and to let me speak, his lips moved to the hollow of my neck. Although my mouth was free, the soft and wet kisses I was receiving blurred my judgment a bit.

"Tell me”

"Did you really feel bad at the party? Or was it just..."

"I didn't want you to notice what you were doing to me. Although I think at this point it doesn't matter much, right?"

Contrary to what I expected, Spencer pushed his hips against mine, as if he wanted to prove that it was true. I could even call it a claim, something that said: look what you did to me. And I wanted him to know just how much my body was begging for him.

Carefully, I moved one of his hands from my waist, and before he could protest, I guided it to one of my thighs, dangerously close to my core. I was glad I had thought of lingerie as a great complement to my dress, maybe in an attempt to feel sexy even if no one saw it. But now, he was going to see it.

Spencer understood my silent request. Those long, slender fingers, which seemed made for more than just flipping through the pages of a book or scribbling frantic notes on paper, slid across my smooth skin. I sighed as I remembered the veins tracing a map under his fair skin, like rivers of contained energy.

Until they finally reached where I needed them. And his touch... God, his touch was something else. They were hands made for discovery, for holding, for exploring, but in those moments, they seemed to be made only for me.

Spencer wasn't an overly bold guy, so it didn't surprise me that he just traced shapes above my panties, as if he wanted to diagnose my anatomy before making any move. My sighs at his ear seemed to please him.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing me, and I huffed, since I liked the attention he was giving my shoulder, until I felt his lips drop just slightly. A loud, pathetic moan escaped me when he squeezed my tits while burying his face to leave an experimental kiss.

I was barely processing that when he knelt in front of me and, carefully, took the edge of my dress and lifted it.

My legs trembled with anticipation at the thought of what he was going to do next, and then I felt his lips brush my thigh. He started gentle, kind, but soon he began sucking every bit of skin he could, and in the end, he made sure to leave bites strong enough to make me whimper.

Who would have thought that this man, seemingly so inexperienced, turned out to offer the best foreplay a woman could desire?

I squealed as I felt his kisses trail down to the fabric of my panties, pausing for a moment to lick the length of my still-clothed pussy.

“You’re dripping wet,” he observed. I was too focused on not giving in right then and there to say anything "Is oral something you're into?"

“I don’t know,” I exclaimed honestly. I didn’t care how vulnerable I looked as I confessed that no man had ever dared to give me head “You?”

“It’s an idea that piques my curiosity, yes.”

Gently he slid some of the fabric aside to clear the way for his tongue, and I felt as if my entire body was only aware of the parts he was probing, kissing, sucking. When he raised my thigh to shoulder height, deepening his thrusts, I felt like I was going to pass out.

I lowered my hand to his thick head and tried, in vain, to push him away from me. I honestly didn’t have the strength or desire to do so, much less when he had picked up the pace.

I moaned a sweet nickname out loud and then Spencer pulled away, looking up at me with glossy, swollen lips.

“Take me to bed, please.”

He didn’t need me to say it twice as he immediately stood up and took me by the waist to guide me to said spot. I was able to taste myself on his lips and for some reason that only turned me on.

Once we hit the mattress the way he laid me down was gentle and I sighed at that. How could he be so sweet all the time? I wondered. And worse yet, how much would this little adventure affect my future expectations?

Because if it was about standards, I was finding out that Spencer Reid was the standard.

Seemingly more enthralled now by my lips than my pussy, he continued with the make-out session we were having. With each touch we had, my excitement was increasing more and more. In the midst of it all I managed to unbutton his shirt and take it off to leave it somewhere on the bed; the semi-darkness of the room shielded any insecurities he might be feeling, as well as my own.

“You are painfully stunning, did you know?”

My tone was one of reproach, and he laughed at that, looking down almost embarrassed. Maybe he wasn't used to compliments, but something told me he was definitely enjoying it.

I heard him murmur something under his breath about me, while he took down the straps of my dress. My hands almost instinctively went to unbuckle his belt, and before I could do anything, he pulled away from me. Needless to say, this left me confused.

"Sorry, I..."

“You don't want to?” I murmured understandingly. I thought maybe he wasn't a big fan of these situations, and I understood, but somehow I felt hurt.

"No! Sure I want to. I want it a lot, but..." he tried not to look at me, as if avoiding confrontation "It's just that I don't have any protection here”

A laugh escaped my lips, and I feared he might interpret it as mockery, so I stretched my neck to steal another kiss.

"One would think there are many girls who pass through these sheets."

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you. It's cute, actually. It even makes me feel guilty," I murmured, smiling "For a second, I was afraid something had made you uncomfortable."

"No, it's not that."

I hesitated for a second whether I should suggest what was on my mind.

"We could do it like this. It doesn't bother me."

"It's not just about avoiding an unwanted pregnancy..." he began. At that moment, I saw him return to his usual nerdy mode. "Although, of course, that counts. But there are things like sexually transmitted infections, some of which don't even show symptoms at first and could complicate things if not detected on time. I know this doesn't sound very attractive, but believe me, protection isn't just for avoiding future problems; it's also to take care of you now, so you don't have issues later: because sometimes men can transmit diseases we're asymptomatic for, and to be honest, I've never done those kinds of tests. A lot of people don't think about it, but the risks are real. And don't get me wrong, I trust you, but even though you trust me, diseases don't discriminate. And I'd like us both to have that peace of mind. Prevention is never too much."

“You conflict me deeply. On the one hand, I admire how responsible you are; it's very cute. But on the other hand, I just urgently need you to fuck me deep and cum inside me”

Spencer was surprised by my desperate whining and tensed when I placed one of my legs around his waist, trying to persuade him. But I was even more surprised when I felt him pull completely away to stand beside the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To the pharmacy," he announced, putting a jacket over his bare torso.

"Are you serious?" I laughed widely, sitting on the bed now that my companion had moved away.

"Definitely. I feel like I can't handle it any longer, it’s physically painful, and when you talk to me like that, it just drives me crazy” he groaned, joining in the fun. It was the first time something like this happened, and I honestly thought it was absolutely hilarious “I'll be back in a minute, I swear! Please, don't go...”

"I couldn't," I murmured sweetly. He came closer, and I took the opportunity to kiss him again "Be quick. I'll be waiting anxiously for you."

Something in my tone of voice affected the man, or maybe it was the wink I gave him, but I saw him bolt out the door. I flopped back onto the bed, taking a moment to digest what was happening.

I have to admit that my classmate had always been attractive to me, but I never thought he could feel the same way. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would be waiting for him in his bed so that, with any luck, he could ravish me without holding back.

As I reached out my arms, I could feel the fabric of the shirt I had previously removed from him, and then I brought it up to my nose, inhaling without thinking. A familiar scent hit me immediately: the mix of sweet cocktails he had drank during the party and a subtle trace of cannabis, as if the night was still impregnated in him. I could distinguish a hint of wood, perhaps from the furniture in the place, combined with a light scent of sweat that was not bothersome, but rather natural. And then, among all that, there was his perfume: a citrus and spicy aroma that evoked something fresh, but also deep, sensual, as if every molecule of his being was waiting for something more. I breathed harder, feeling that this aroma, this moment, defined him.

I didn't know why that particular night my whole body was screaming for his closeness. I was crazy about him and it wasn't the alcohol's fault, because I'd had too many drinks to know. Neither of us had ever done drugs and for a moment I was terrified by the idea that I could want to be with someone like that, with such fervor that it was worrying.

Still dizzy from the excitement of the moment, I lowered one of my hands to my crotch to get rid of my panties. I thought about him, wondering how skilled he was. Not that I doubted his abilities, but just like I’d told him that night, he might need some practice.

I started to fantasize about helping him through this situation, maybe guiding him or pampering him by just asking him to lay back so I could do all the work. Spencer was the kind of man who invited you to please him, the kind of man you wanted to satisfy because he never pressured you into it.

Playing with myself, I sniffed his shirt again, desperately wishing I could have the source of said scent with me, until my brain was filled only with daydreams in which he was the protagonist and my fingers were replaced by his. That's why I didn't notice when he opened the apartment. And that's why I didn't know he was watching me from the door frame until I heard him let out a ragged sigh.

Being caught in that position made me feel embarrassed at first, but the way he practically lunged at me and kissed me more decisively than before, I figured he liked seeing me like that.

"Busy?"

I was caught off guard by his sassiness and I knew he was proud of it by the smile I felt on my neck.

“I guess you found what we need, right?”

“Uh-huh”

“Have you read any books on female anatomy?”

“Quite a few”

“So I guess you know a lot about sexuality, don’t you?”

“In theory, yes. Unfortunately, I haven’t had many opportunities to put it into practice.”

A smile spread across my face, which luckily he couldn't see because he was too busy leaving a trail of kisses along the top of my torso.

“How unfortunate, considering you’re a scientist. I wouldn’t mind becoming an object of your study, though, you know?”

He subtly slid the straps of my dress and revealed my bra, from which a considerable part of my boobs protruded, which he happily kissed.

At the same time his hand came down to caress me, making me shiver with anticipation, resting on just the right spots. It was the least I could expect from such an intellectual man, one who definitely knew about the thousands of nerve endings concentrated in my clitoris, which he was definitely tapping into to satisfy me.

“May I?” he whispered, looking at the little underwear he still had on.

I nodded immediately and arched my back to make it easier for him to unbutton it, which didn't take too long. He was practically worshipping every inch of my skin, which, combined with his gentle yet firm fingers rubbing me, was driving me crazy.

We both moaned in unison as he pushed a finger into me. It felt just as good as I had imagined.

I had read somewhere that, physiologically, women need more time to achieve an orgasm and although none of my exes had cared about that, this one seemed to know that fact. Maybe that was why he was giving me such attention, which I was undoubtedly grateful for.

“Honey…” I choked out “you’re doing great, really, really good, but would you mind if we replaced those fingers? I want to feel you inside me,” I practically begged.

I never begged, I felt like a fool doing it, but if that got me the intensity of the kiss he gave me, I wouldn't mind starting to do it.

Spencer pulled away from me, searching for the packet of condoms he'd run off to get, and while he unbuttoned his pants I got rid of my dress, which by this point was just a mass of fabric around my waist.

My body wasn't perfect, but I figured that wouldn't matter to him. Besides, I doubt he'd be rude enough to mention it.

“Need a hand?” I joked playfully, noticing that he was struggling to open the silver package.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous,” he said to himself, hoping I wouldn’t mind too much.

I wanted to reward him for treating me so well a few moments ago and I took the package from his hands, placing my palm on his chest until I laid him down against the mattress. Once in that position it wasn't difficult to get rid of the wrapping to place the piece of latex on him, thinking that I didn't have a single complaint about his body.

My hands on him made him nervous and I watched him turn into a mess as I began pumping his cock up and down to make sure he had the condom on properly.

“You don’t have to hold back. I like the sounds you make,” I exclaimed in a velvety tone, trying to sound as genuine as possible “That way I know you’re enjoying it.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out for much longer,” he confessed, as my hand continued to move along his length. Although I wished I could take better care of him, I understood the situation.

“Your wish is my command”

He didn't complain when I put each leg on his sides and he bravely hardened as I teased him for a moment before sinking my pussy onto his dick. I started slow, trying to make him last as long as possible, but with each second it was getting harder to keep up a pace.

I tried my best to ride him, trying to give him the best experience as a thank you for all his hospitality. And from the whimpers coming out of his throat I assume I was doing my job well.

At some point his hands ended up on my hips, guiding me as he pleased. Sometimes he pushed me down, as if he wanted to get to the bottom of me, and other times he manipulated me so that the thrusts were fast.

He wasn't lying when he said he would cum in no time, as the repressed desire added to the previous sexual actions had him on the edge of the abyss. I knew he had reached orgasm when he closed his eyes and his hips slammed against me, in erratic movements.

I kept riding him a little longer, chasing my own climax, and when I got it I put my hands against his chest, arching in pleasure. Spencer, breathing heavily, grabbed my wrists in his hands and then pulled me so that I was against his torso, my lips too close to his.

He placed his palm on my cheek and pulled me in his direction, seemingly asking for a kiss. I granted it.

“Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” I sighed wryly. It was cute that he didn’t know that sometimes girls don’t even make it. “How was it for you?”

“I'm speechless.”

I laughed and, to a certain extent, felt flattered that I had left a man who knew a million ways to express himself in that state.

We enjoyed the high we had just had for a few minutes and waited for our breathing to slow down; when our sighs took the same rhythm, he spoke again.

“You should go to the bathroom. It’s, uh… healthy for you to do it after every encounter.”

I reached for the garment he had been wearing and, trying to protect myself from the cold air, I put it on over myself.

“Do you mind lending it to me?”

“Nu-huh,” he hummed, eyeing me as if I were a cupcake. I would later learn how affected he was to see me using his clothes to slide out of bed.

When I came out of the bathroom he already had his boxers on, probably wanting to maintain modesty, and when he went to attend to his needs I also looked for my panties. It wasn't long before he returned to keep me company.

“Do you want to cuddle? I’d feel like a whore if I just left”

“Yes, of course I want”

He made sure to throw anything that was on the bed onto the floor and patted the pillows to make them more comfortable. I settled into the space next to him, leaning against his chest, right at heart level.

One of his arms was holding me from behind and in some strange way that made me feel safe; protected.

“Your feet are frozen, are you cold?”

"Not much"

“Do you want me to get you some socks?”

“I’m fine, Spencer,” I laughed softly. I brushed my cheek against his skin and tried to snuggle closer to him. “It’ll just get colder if you leave.”

“Did you know that the human body is incredibly efficient at maintaining its temperature? When two bodies are nearby, like… now,” he paused, settling a little closer to me, “heat transfer occurs due to thermal radiation and direct conduction. Essentially, each body generates heat that helps the other maintain a stable core temperature.”

“So you’re like a human blanket”

“That’s right. In fact, in situations of severe hypothermia, sharing body heat in this way can literally save lives.”

I raised my head to look at him and noticed an excited gleam in his eyes, the one he always had when he shared something from his vast knowledge.

“I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what you said earlier, about female anatomy,” seeing him frown, I continued, “No field of study considers one experimentation enough, right? Everything needs to be replicated two, three, four times. Ten times if necessary.”

“Your guess is quite accurate.”

“Say no more. We must give everything if it is in the name of science”

From the smile on his face, I knew that my joke had pleased him and that my proposal seemed to please him. To seal the deal I reached up and kissed him softly. We remained silent for a while, him caressing me over his own shirt and me enjoying the closeness.

“I like you a lot”

“I had a feeling,” I teased, earning a soft laugh from him “I really like you, too."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and for some stupid reason a blush crept up my cheeks, even though we had just had sex. I carefully placed myself on top of his body and buried my face in his neck, feeling him hug me around the waist.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, I could tell by how calm his breathing was becoming, and I tried to enjoy the peace he emanated a little longer, until, eventually, Morpheus picked me up in his arms too.

@spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @shuichiakainx @gghostwriter @cafters @weallhaveadestiny @your-left-sock @jaeminsmilk @tmrs-basilisk @kristennotstewart @lostinwonderland314 @f4tpo3s @lortheswiftie @dark-unicorn222 @samsienichole @blackholegladiator @gretaandthatsit @cherrysprlte @halfbloodwriter @piercethefic @reidingandallthat @ariel-23-19 @zorrasucia @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @juluina @kylakins88 @tinainaction @sadroses98 @dumbbunnys-safes @bowerfeithwk @freyafriggafrey

Thank you very much for your interest! I hope you liked it, if you feel like it, let me know what you think :)

[hhh-hemogoblin]

Quick and Dirty

Summary: You and Astarion were out on a date night once again. But this night was special and little did you know you'd be seeing stars in more ways than one. Who knew that Baldur's Gate's alleyways could be so inviting after dark…

Pairing: Astarion x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: NSFW, Smut, They're having fun in a dark alley, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Quickie, Banter, Established Relationship, Domestic Bliss, Second Person POV, Exhibitionism, Usual vampire behaviour

A/n: Another self-indulgent little one-shot, because I like the idea that those freaks cannot wait a single minute before going to town. I hope you'll like it! Any constructive feedback is welcome :)

It was a warm night in the Gate. The full moon shone brightly, illuminating the ripples in the bay and the belltowers alike: a glittery scenery. A soft breeze was blowing, just enough for the air not to be stuffy. It was almost midnight and this part of town was as quiet as it gets. Parents and children were already fast asleep, drunkards were still busy inside taverns, thug-business was still a couple of hours away and the sunrise would only be the grand finale for a night that was only starting.

What were you doing on this peaceful evening? Well, you’d just been out with your lover, in a fine inn, enjoying a delightful dinner. Every once in a while, seemingly at random, Astarion chose to take you out for a candle-lit dinner. “How cliché!”, you always told him, despite actually loving those quiet evenings the two of you spent together.

Those nights were little escapes, stripping you from the harsh reality of having to spend most of the day away from your dearest vampire. Without a solution for walking in broad daylight, he was sentenced to staying at home, “waiting for you to come back”, as he always put it, in the most dramatic voice he could summon. And so, every morning, you ventured forth, solving the citizens’ problems here and there, whether they needed an exterminator, someone to fish out a gold ring from the sewers or another mage to help out at Sorcerous Sundries, on particularly busy days. And every morning, without a fail, you kissed Astarion goodbye, while he mumbled something along the lines of “Why are you abandoning me again??” from under the sheets. With an almost heavy heart, you left the bed to get ready for the day, knowing that he would soon wake up as well. After all, his days weren’t exactly uneventful either, as he spent them reading, writing letters to faraway mages and healers or working on some elaborate embroidery to sell to the highest bidder (someone had to bring some gold to the household and unfortunately for you, luxury garments were a better trade than ridding a cellar of a horde of rats).

Those nights out were the ones you cherished: time you shared together, without distractions. Pure banter, bliss and love, nothing on your mind except the entrancing garnet eyes of your lover. After dinner, you usually wandered around the streets, your stomach filled with a hearty meal. You explored the dim alleys of Baldur’s Gate, in search for some nooks and crannies that you had never seen before, which proved a difficult task, considering the time you’d spent sneaking around and hiding between those very walls when you were on a quest to overthrow the Absolute. And then, you generally looked for a nice lookout, perhaps a belltower or an unoccupied balcony, from where you could see the moon in all her ethereal glory. Astarion knew that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the scorching rays of sunrise anytime soon, so he relished in basking in the radiant moonlight. Even without any heat warming his skin, the light it offered was some sort of comfort. A fierce stance of resistance, a bold reminder that he would not spend eternity in darkness.

Opening up had never been one of Astarion’s strengths but you’d learned that, with time, he’d share both beautiful and haunting thoughts with you. And so you knew that all he wanted was to find a way to live in brightness again. You’d sworn to yourself that you’d make it our life’s work to make sure that this time, he got what he wanted, what he deserved.

Most times, you followed this unspoken routine, enjoying the night and making sure to come back home before the morning’s early hours, where you could still catch some sleep before the day started again. Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight was one of the nights in which you didn’t even know you’d see the stars in more ways than one. Because some nights, dessert was served way after the main course, in the secluded privacy of your own home. A sweet and spicy moment of your own device.

Given his grim past, Astarion was only getting used to consensual intimacy again, which is why your love life was… spontaneous, to say the least. A sudden burst of flames inside both of your hearts, an immediate desire left to be satisfied. They could happen in the morning, before either of you had even left the sheets, or before lunch, when a ravenous hunger took over… And the meal was left to go cold on the counter while your bodies started heating up. You usually let him initiate it, so he could learn to regain control, but once the dance started, there was no telling of who’d be in charge that time.

You were just leaving the inn after a wonderfully entertaining supper, arms in arms with Astarion, when he gradually pulled you towards the right. “Why are you in such a rush?” you asked him, surprised by his behaviour. The high of the night hadn’t even been reached yet so there was no need to run home…

Instead of an answer, he stopped dead in his tracks and greeted you with a devilish smile. “Darling… Getting lost in your eyes was not enough tonight. I need to get lost in you. Now.”

The desperation in his hushed voice made the hair on your neck rise. You looked up to him with a lusty gaze and whispered “Let’s go home, then”, while tugging on his sleeve.

“Home’s too far. I can’t wait any longer. I want you here and now“, he said while towering over you and slowly walking in your direction, steering you into a dark and twisted alleyway. The assertiveness in his voice made you shiver deliciously and you complied, marching backwards in swift little steps, barely avoiding to stumble over your own feet.

Astarion’s magnetic gaze was fixed on your eyes, unflinching, while he kept driving you until you made it halfway into the narrow street. And he stopped.

“A dark, filthy, alley? Really? Couldn’t you have picked a nicer sp-“, you barely had any time for teasing. Shoving you into a wall and his tongue into your mouth was definitely a way to shut you up. In an instant, the whole world went black, as you felt your back crash against the brick wall.

Your lover was kissing you lavishly, and you were equally as generous, moaning into him, between pants, the excitement clearly rising within both your souls. His cool lips left your mouth, slowly moving to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, hungrily sucking on the skin, nibbing at it, tugging at it with a sharp smile. You knew this ruthless show of passion would leave its traces, but in that very moment, you couldn’t care less. You indulged. He moved back to kiss you and in a wet battle of tongues, you got a hold of his bottom lip, playfully tugging at it with your teeth. He broke the kiss and grinned “Oh, no… I don’t think so… Tonight I’ll be the one playing with my food, sweetheart…”. This pledge made your insides churn, a light tingling, moving down your spine and straight to your core. This was going to be fun.

Astarion grabbed the collar of your dress and yanked you towards him, so that the two of you were pressed together tightly. Never letting go of your clothes, he planted a soft kiss on your lips and you knew that would be the last moment of respite for a while. His blazing eyes told you everything you needed to know. “Show me what you got…” was all you managed to utter, and that was all he needed to hear before entering a frenzied state of passion.

He gripped your collar tightly and lifted you off the ground before setting you down on a stack of empty crates against a house. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered “Gods, you’re beautiful when you’re so eager for me”. His voice alone would have sufficed to make you come undone but you tried to pull yourself together, bracing for what was to come. Your partner ripped your dress open, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He grabbed your jaw with slight force, peered deep into your eyes before crashing with your lips again. All the while, his silky hands were wandering around your body, grabbing every bit of exposed skin they could reach. A rogue true to his craft, his movements were so swift that it felt like dozens of hands caressing your skin all at once. Goosebumps started to rise wherever his hands had been, your nipples perking up due to the contrast of your hot skin and his frosty fingers. You moaned into his mouth, leaning into him even more, one hand on the back of his neck, pressing him towards you, your other hand softly palming his strong broad chest.

He pulled away from your lips and stared deep into your eyes. Passion fuelled the burning embers behind his eyes as his lustful gaze took in every detail of your face. The only source of light was a street lantern that was barely emitting any light. His features were as angelic as ever in the dim light, yet tonight, he planned to be wicked. It felt as if the two of you were secluded in a cupboard of void, with nothing interrupting your evening programme. Although…

All of a sudden you broke the kiss, eyes wide open, visibly startled. Adrenaline coursed through your body quicker than ever. You peeked behind your lover’s head but couldn’t see anything except the poorly lit crates and cobble stones of the alley. “I… I thought I’d heard something”, you admitted. A playful laugh escaped his lips and he jived: “Darling, if there were someone skulking around, I’d have heard them before they’d even turned the corner”. He paused, looked to the side grinning and continued: “But, if you must know, there’s definitely a pair enjoying the same type of… late-night trysts, a couple houses down. Quite loudly in fact, they’re pushing things off the table, in the kitchen perhaps?” Still amused, he furrowed his brows, assessing the situation “Such energy, he’s… Oh… Oh my!” A devilish smile was plastered across his face just a little longer, as he pondered the end of the street. He looked like a perverted voyeur enjoying the show. He then reverted to you, peering deep into your eyes and then glancing at your already swollen lips. “Well, it seems we’re not the only ones indulging in the pleasures of the flesh… Don’t you get distracted!” you said with a wink. This earned you an honest confession, whispered like a secret in between shared breaths: “What could ever distract me when my whole world is in front of me?”

You smiled, resuming your kiss, ravished by the fondness Astarion had just expressed. You flung your hands to the back of his head, slowly working your way into his tousled mop of hair, tugging at his curls and delicately scratching his scalp with your nails. Your legs were tangled around him and all you could do was pull him impossibly closer to you.

His full undivided attention now back to you, he cupped your face, kissing you surprisingly sweetly, before slowly letting both his hands glide down your chest, past your bare breasts, along your ribs and your waist. The slightest push of his hand made sure you were well sat upon the wooden crates. He slowly kneeled in front of you, his eyes still set on yours, unblinking, and a mischievous smile gracing his face. “I know we just had dinner, but I’m thinking that I’ve got some room left for dessert…” he hushed, as he playfully fondled your thighs. His hands reached the hem of your skirts, which he ever so carefully lifted all the way up, thus gaining access to your crotch. He caressed your thighs some more before pulling your underpants down in one swift motion and pocketing them hastily. There you were, half-naked in a darkened street, your core already slick and eager. He brought his face to your inner thighs, grazing the delicate skin with his fangs before kissing it softly, making his way to your cunt. “Your soft skin and your compelling scent are exactly what I need tonight, love…”, he spoke. Your pulse quickened, your skin was smouldering with every single touch and you could feel your loins grow impatient. You carefully bucked your hips forwards to grant him better access when he grabbed both your legs and placed them over his shoulders.

You gasped, at the first contact, the tip of his tongue expertly reaching for the main feature. It wasn’t long before his mouth had completely engulfed you, every movement of his skilled tongue making you shiver and pant. You could barely contain your little yelps, as he alternated between swift flicks around your rosebud and slower flat movements that pushed you further and further towards the pool of ecstasy. As if that wasn’t enough, he let go of your leg and added his dexterous fingers to the mix. An unexpected finger dug into you and your eyes opened in surprise. “Astarion!” you blurted out, which made him abruptly stop his ministrations. “Darling, I thought the idea of getting caught in the act here didn’t appeal to you…” He started, clearly teasing you. “If you keep making so much noise at this late hour, I’m afraid we’re going to have to take preventive measures!” He winked. You giggled at his words, trying to keep it down as he worked his way back to your core.

He inserted a second finger shortly after, which had your eyes rolling back inside your head. “Astarion, please, give me more…” you begged. His legendary accuracy did not fail him, even when his mind was clouded by lust. You were trying your best to make as little noise as possible but the lewd noises he made going down on you were about as discrete as an elephant walking through a porcelain shop. Your whole body was tensing up, pleasure building inside you. The sounds, the sensations, the scents… It was all so much: you needed to steady yourself. Even though Astarion’s hands were holding you firmly, you felt moments away from losing control and toppling over.

On instinct, you reached for the vampire’s head, fondling it, delicately sliding your fingers through his locks before grasping them firmly. You pulled his head into your mount, making sure that he knew just how much you were enjoying yourself. You started grinding your hips into his face a bit more and, right on cue, he tightened his grip on your body, almost digging his nails into your tender flesh. You two were impossibly close, almost merging into one, and the satisfied moans and vibrations emanating from him only added to the delicious stimulation he was already providing. Every flick of the tongue, every tug of his fingers, pulled at your every nerve. Your eyes were rolling back, your breath hitched, as you tried to contain all the praises and curses you’d be spilling in a more private context. “Hhh… Astarion, keep going just like that… You’re gifted…”, you whispered. To no surprise, you could feel him laugh in response. It didn’t take much more to send you over the edge, your body shaking, frantic whimpers escaping your mouth as you delicately reached for his jaw. Your sensitive cunt was still throbbing as you were riding out your orgasm, and he continued nonetheless, even if his tongue was working much slower now, tenderly tending to you.

Your body was just adjusting to feel again and you returned your hands to his crown of curls, knowing he particularly enjoyed that. At this point, you were practically massaging his scalp and you slowly made your way to his ears. His delicate elven ears twitched under your touch. He unlatched from your core within moments and peered into your eyes with a half-lidded gaze “Gods… Darling… I wasn’t quite finished yet, but something tells me we need to turn to other matters…”. Even in the dim light of the street lantern, you saw that he looked down at his crotch, which you could only assume was already bulging hard. You smiled in anticipation.

“Mmmh, come here”, he mumbled as he stood up again. He offered you his open hand: “M’Lady…”, he said in a ridiculously posh tone. You giggled and hopped off of the crates. You took his hand and answered him in an equally haughty tone: “My Lord…”. Raising his brow, his proceeded to spin you around twice, as if this were a courtly dance. He pulled you towards him, your back to his chest, and whispered wickedly in your ear: “… And now I’ll take what’s mine.”

With a push between your shoulder blades, he shoved you into the wall, where you barely caught yourself with your hands, gasping at the sudden changing dynamic. Despite not being able to detect his pulse, you could feel the urgency raise within him. One moment he was holding your waist tightly and the next, he grabbed your ankle from the ground, setting your foot on the crate. He pushed himself onto you some more so that you had to hold on to the wall and the crate in order to maintain balance. He pulled your skirt over your backside, exposing your thighs and buttocks to the fresh summer breeze once again. Towering over you, he planted soft kisses along the supple skin of your shoulders and neck while his hand wandered to your ass. His cool touch made you shiver as much as it heated you up, and you yearned for more of him. You could feel him, all of him, pressed along your body: his light breath on your neck, his broad chest on your back, his hard length on your ass.

“So tender…” He grasped your ass firmly, before stroking it for a moment and spanking your cheek without a warning. A little “Oh!” is all you managed to blurt out, as the sting of his slap subsided and a pleasant tingling sensation spread across the reddened area.

As he was looming over you, he traced your neck with the tip of his nose, breathing you in, audibly satisfied. Without needing to turn your head around, you could feel his plush lips smiling against your sensitive skin. You collected your hair with one hand put it all on one side of your head, exposing your neck even more. Of course he’d notice the invitation but you thought some reassurance might be in order. “I know you’re dying to bite down, sweet tooth… Go ahead.”, you uttered in a sultry voice. With time, you’d almost come to appreciate the sting and odd numbness of a vampire’s bite. “Well, darling, you don’t have to tell me twice”, he managed to spit, before getting dangerously close to your carotid artery. Without further warning, he plunged his fangs into your neck.

There it was again, that familiar sharp, icy pain, which pushed all the air out of your lungs. You still found it uncanny that his teeth were somehow even colder than the rest his body, but maybe it was only the mere shock factor brought upon by the sudden piercing of your skin.

The pain started to subside, as you carefully breathed in again, slowly giving way to a blunt numbness, engulfing your neck and going as far as your collarbones. As he meticulously drank from you, his grip tightened on your hips. His newly gained vigour filled his arteries one by one, starting in his chest and slowly travelling to all his limbs. His feverish bloodlust was almost satiated it seemed, as you felt his body grow warmer and warmer each passing moment. The grip on your body eased as well, before he started lapping at your fresh puncture wounds. Whether it was a somatic feeling or a real physiological response, it seemed that the ravaged skin slowly mended itself the more he licked it. Perhaps someone ought to investigate the regenerative properties of vampire spit…

Your scientific considerations were immediately cast aside, as you felt Astarion’s growing erection press harder and harder on your ass. “A bottle of the finest Thayan Red is nothing compared to a drop of your exquisite blood. Elixir of life, elixir of love… I don’t think I could live without it anymore…” He planted a soft kiss on your newly marked neck and you felt his hand leave your hip and adroitly unbutton his breeches. You grew more impatient by the second, you wanted him, you needed him. You felt his erection spring free, followed by a sigh of relief. “I hope you are ready, my love, because the anticipation is killing me”, he warned. With these words, he positioned himself at your entrance and you felt his tip slowly sink into your dripping cunt.

This time, it was effortless: your body gave way almost instantly. Thanks to Astarion’s wonderous attentions, your arousal had reached an all-time high. One sole thrust and he was completely buried inside you, which earned a sharp hiss from him. A low moan escaped your lips as you relished in how your lover’s cock was deliciously stretching you out. “Mmmm… Every single time I’m inside of you feels better than the last, how could it be?”, he uttered. “Must be magic?” you retorted, barely managing to form a coherent sentence. He chuckled at your nonsensical answer and kissed the nape of your neck.

One of his hands left your hips and wandered across your body, to your breast. He gently grabbed it, pulling you closer to him, making your back arch some more. He started slowly sliding out of you, taking his time so you’d feel every vein on his hard cock, before pushing his length back inside again. Though every thrust was agonizingly slow, a myriad of sensations sprouted in your mind. You couldn’t keep it to yourself and the obscene whines just escaped your mouth with growing intensity.

“Tsk, darling, what did we say about being quiet? As much as I love hearing you react to my touch, we can’t have you impersonate Sharess’ Caress’ number one performer in the middle of the street! Let’s make this right”. Without wasting a moment, he reached into his pocket, pulled something out and immediately went for your mouth. By stuffing your mouth with your own undergarments, he made sure all of your sounds were muffled, at the very least. You were pleasantly surprised by his initiative and placed your hand on Astarion’s, which was still on your hip, to showcase your support.

Seemingly content, he shifted his focus back to what he was doing, slowly picking up the pace whilst exploring your most intimate depths. The angle was perfect, the head of his cock hit your sweet spot with every thrust, making you quiver in ecstasy. You could feel the tension build up inside of your loins again, a pressing feeling that only intensified as your lover worked you up. Your grip on his hand became firmer, a subtle signal that you were approaching your high. Astarion sucked and nibbled at the supple skin of your neck, occasionally biting down on your shoulder, careful enough not to draw blood. His hand wandered down from your breasts to your nether regions, caressing your thighs and reaching your clit once more. That first touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. “Mmmmmhh…”, you voiced through your makeshift gag.

As his cock was rapidly slipping in and out of your slick cunt, his fingers started circling around your pink pearl, sending you into a spiral of engulfing sensations. You slowly started hearing less, seeing less, breathing less, feeling as if you were flying. You were huffing and grunting through the fabric, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, while you were rushing towards that sweet release once more.

Astarion was very much aware of your imminent climax and he had as little words left in him as you did. No more witty retorts, only devotion and surrender. He was groaning in your neck, almost whimpering at times, his body evidently reacting to yours: every time his thrusts made you clench, his length twitched in return inside of you. You couldn’t refrain yourself much longer, you had to let go.

Three… Two… One… One last thrust and you came crashing down, your soul leaving your body momentarily. The warmth flooded your body and mind once again, a numbing nothing and everything all at once. Your spasming muscles would’ve failed you, if not for Astarion’s firm hands holding you into place. Seeing you come undone had pushed him over the edge shortly after: as you were still riding out your high, you could feel him twitch as he came inside of you, thick, warm ropes of cum coating your walls. He panted into your ear, whispering your name, trying to speak “Hells… Fuck… This is…”. His pace slowed down, before he stopped completely, staying buried deep inside of you for a moment. Your heartbeat was stabilising again and he placed a reverent kiss on your jaw.

After you had both cooled down a bit, Astarion removed himself and helped you back up. You were still a bit shaky but you knew you’d be able to count on him for support. You turned around and stared into his ruby eyes. He seemed, content, relaxed, just as he should be. You matched his soft smile and ran a hand through his hair, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He took your hand as you were ready to head home. “Needless to say, this was amazing, darling. Thank you for indulging in a little treat.” You answered earnestly: “It truly was wonderful. Anytime, my love.”

“Should we get going? I fear it’s getting fresh already and we both know you need to get ready for your beauty sleep…”, you added, taunting him a bit. “Indeed, I would not say no to a bath before sunrise…”

Upon leaving the alley, you crossed ways with a Flaming Fist who had just turned at the corner. You looked at Astarion and whispered: “Whew… Close one!”. Astarion made a grimace and rushed you towards the main street.

The way back was quiet, as you both enjoyed the early morning in the city, before any merchants had opened up their shop, only meeting a few drunkards along the way.

You were lucky it was only a short walk home, because with every step, you felt Astarion’s warm spend dripping out of you and down your thighs. Seeing how he smirked, he probably knew it too. Oh well, laundry day was due tomorrow anyway…

[not-a-space-alien]

Desperate Daybreak Chapter 3

In this chapter: Valen talks to vampire cops and meets a new ally.

Warning for this chapter: use of a homophobic/transphobic slur, misgendering throughout, police intimidation

MMSS masterpost

DD masterpost

On AO3

***

Valen wasn’t sure how many different ways there were to say “I didn’t kill my husband.”  He’d said practically every variation of it so far.

After the initial rounds of Who the hell is this? and Does Mrs. Kithrara have a brother? and Valen having to literally pull out his ID to prove he was in fact the recently widowed Valen Kithrara, the two officers sat him down in the foyer and refused to stop grilling him and asking him the same questions over and over again.  He was sure if Lex and Ari weren’t there, he would have broken down and simply confessed to the murder just to make it end.  He really wished he could hold one of their hands, but making sure they had their silver armor so none of the vampires around could touch them was much more important than that.

The two cops had obviously watched too many movies glamorizing solving complicated murder cases.  They had even designated themselves as good cop and bad cop, which was as patronizing as it was stupid.

The one who’d designated himself good cop tapped his pencil on his notepad.  “Look, we know you killed him, so why don’t you make this easier on all of us and just tell us how you did it.  This doesn’t have to be hard.”

Valen squirmed in the uncomfortable elaborate embroidery on the upholstery of the fancy chairs of the Kithrara estate’s sitting room.  “For the last time.  I wasn’t even on this side of the border.  I was hundreds of miles away.”

“You hired somebody, then,” bad cop insisted.  “If we pulled up your phone records, we wouldn’t find any suspicious calls to this side of the border?”

The idea that Valen could have hired a human to kill him, from one of the many, many vampire hunters he surrounded himself with, was so far from their minds that they just assumed Valen would have had to contact a remote vampire assassin to pull it off.  Humans were just so non-existent as a threat in their minds.  He almost wanted to point it out, if it wouldn’t have just opened another can of problems for him.  “I only cross the border to come buy supplies, and I barely ever call anybody over here.”

“So if we pull up the phone records, we won’t find anything suspicious?”

“No, I’m positive.”

“So you wouldn’t have a problem with it if we pulled up the phone records?”

“For God’s sake, pull up the phone records then, if you must!”

“Maybe we will.  It’d be easier if you just told us, though, you know.”

Valen struggled to hold back tears.  Don’t let yourself be humiliated in front of these men.  Not more than you already have.  “If I had anything to tell you, I would have.”

“Hey,” Ari butted in with a growl.  “Can we get this over with?”

One of the cops looked disdainfully at Ari.  “Mrs. Kithrara, can you keep your thrall quiet?”

Ari scowled.  Valen went to put his hand on Ari’s arm, then withdrew before he could burn himself on the silver.  “It’s all right, dear, just let me handle this.”

Lex leaned over to whisper comfortingly in his ear.  “You can do this.”

Despite finding massive comfort in the words, Valen looked up and was horrified to discover the two men were giving him a bemused expression, like they were watching a fully grown man be comforted by his mother, or perhaps a pet.

They thought he was pathetic, it was obvious they did.  He was on the verge of a breakdown just talking to them, and he seemed to need the comfort of a human.  He might as well have just pulled out a coloring book and crayons for how it changed their view of him.

But as much as he hated it, he knew that sometimes that could be to his advantage.

“I don’t even know how I would kill someone,” Valen said, finally letting the tears leak out.  “How could anyone even do such a thing?  It’s unthinkable!  To kill my husband?  Such violence… It feels like just yesterday I was right here beside him…”

The two cops softened, now that he was behaving how they expected.  Submissive.  Womanly.  Cowed.  Weak.  He hated it.  Oh, he hated it.  But it was working.  He dabbed at his eyes.  “I’m sorry for losing my composure… I’m just not mentally well, you know.”

“We know,” one cop said sympathetically.  “You poor girl.”

“I can only imagine you need some comfort,” the other said.  “I’ll give you my phone number for if you find yourself lonely now that he's gone.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ari muttered.

“Mrs. Kithara, is it really necessary to have both your thralls here?” He said it like it was gaudy and in poor taste.

Valen went red.  “Surely they aren’t being that disruptive.”

“No, no, I get it,” Ari said.  She tapped her knees and stood.  “I can’t keep my mouth shut, so I’ll wait outside.”

The two cops looked at her funny, like she was a dog walking itself by holding its own leash in its mouth.  “Uh-huh.”

“Do be careful,” Valen muttered, having nightmare visions of someone accosting Ari outside the door.  “Don’t move too far away.”

Ari waved him off casually and opened the door.

There was another vampire outside–way across the grand entryway, frazzled as though looking for something.  His head snapped towards Ari as soon as the door opened, and with the preternaturally fast clackclackclackclack of dress shoes on tiled floor, he was in front of Ari blocking the doorway immediately.

“There you are,” he said, and Oh, that’s Tessie’s voice, and Valen should have guessed by the subtle gold nail polish and the just barely noticeable discomfort at being in men’s dress clothing.  Valen wouldn’t have recognized it if he hadn’t seen the exact same thing in the mirror every time he put on women’s dress clothes. This was undoubtedly the Tessie he'd spoken to on the phone. “My client has the right to legal counsel!”

The two cops rolled their eyes and snickered.  “Sure.  So where were you?”

“I told you to come get me when Valen arrived at the estate, but apparently you can’t even be trusted to do that!”  Tessie stormed over and plunked into the chair beside Valen.  She was taller than him, although that was hardly a feat.  She had ashy, dark skin and eyes that were leaning more towards golden than red.  “I was looking for you because I had to hear that Valen was on site from one of the maids.”

“Sorry.  We couldn’t find you.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you looked all over the grounds.  Convenient that it gave you a few minutes to terrorize my client without my being here.”  She dropped a manila folder of documents onto the table.  “Any questions for Valen will now be addressed to me, and Valen will consult with me about the answers before you get them.”

Relief swept through Valen.  Oh, Tessie was a superhero.  Finally, someone who could and would just stand between him and this whole situation.  “Thank you,” he said meekly.

“Now.”  Tessie threw one leg over the other.  “I understand neither you nor the Kithrara family want me or Valen here, but Valen has the legal right to this estate and he has the legal right to an attorney, so we’re–”

“She,” one of the cops broke in.

Tessie’s manicured fingers stopped on the documents she was shuffling.  “What?”

“She has the legal right to an attorney.”

“The man has facial hair and everything,” Tessie muttered.  “Heavens above.”  She cleared her throat and raised her voice again.  “Anyway, the legal right to an attorney, so unless Valen prefers a different legal consultant–”

“I don’t,” Valen broke in quietly.

“–Which she doesn’t, you have to talk to me if you want to question Valen about the circumstances of her husband’s death.”

The two cops scowled.  “Fine, though I don’t know why they let someone like you be a lawyer anyway.”

Tessie peeled her lip into a smile that looked more like an animal snarling.  “Have you explained the basic facts of the case to Valen yet?”

They both fidgeted.  “That’s not how we were–”

“Members of the nobility have the legal right to have the established facts of a case in which they are a suspect explained to them fully before being obligated to answer any questions about it.  Decree 1,489 section 3 clause 8.”

“But we were just gonna–”

Tessie whipped out a notebook and started jotting things down.  “Officer… Davis… refused… to… establish… case… facts…”

“All right, all right, sheesh.”

“Oh, I like this one.”  Ari shut the door and sat back down. 

Valen swept his hair out of his face and crossed his legs with renewed confidence.  “Yes, if there are case facts, by all means I would like to hear them.”

One of the cops sighed and took out his notepad, flipping it back to an older page.  The bastard had a stack of notes ready to go, but hadn’t told Valen about it until someone came and threatened him with legal action!  Valen was so outraged he almost forgot to pay attention. 

“On the morning of May 4th, at 3:30AM, an incident occurred with four males of the Kithrara family who were together on an outing–Xavier, Priscus, Mordecai, and Sebastian.  There were four witnesses:  Xavier’s coachman, Priscus’s limousine driver, and two passersby.  The Kithraras were exiting the grounds of a theater and returning to the private lot to get to their vehicles when an unknown assailant propelled a wooden stake through the chest of Mordecai Kithrara, followed immediately by a second through Xavier Kithrara.”

“The limousine driver ran off at this point,” the other cop broke in.  “As did the two passersby.  Cowards.  No loyalty to their betters at all.”

“The coachman hid in the carriage but reportedly heard multiple gunshots, which according to him incapacitated both Priscus and Sebastian.”

“He didn’t go out to check until several minutes had passed,” the other cop sneered.  “No loyalty at all.  Cowardice.”

Even the first cop was looking annoyed by the commentary at this point.  “Anyway.  By the time police were on the scene, Xavier, Mordecai, and Priscus were all dead from wooden projectiles.  Sebastian’s body hasn’t been recovered yet.”

“He’s dead?”

“He’s presumed dead, but no one knows where he is.”

“Goodness,” Valen said.  “I hope he’s all right.”

The cop who’d designated himself as bad cop slammed his hands down on the table, making Valen jump.  “I bet you do!” he accused.  “As if you didn’t orchestrate this!  The order of assassination is perfectly lined up in such a way that it would be clear Priscus would inherit Xavier’s estate in the moments before his own death!  Mordecai dying before Xavier eliminated him as an heir, and the gap between Xavier’s murder and Priscus’s murder ensured the estate would go to you.”

Oh, so that was why they were convinced he must be behind it.  Valen did have to admit it looked suspiciously convenient that he would end up benefiting so much from this extremely specific series of murders.  But…

“I had no idea Priscus bequeathed the estate to me in his will,” Valen protested.  “Even if I’d wanted to kill him, I had no way of knowing it would benefit me!  I hadn’t been in contact with him for months!  When was his will last updated?”

“That’s besides the point,” came the reply.  “It’s also convenient that Sebastian Kithrara, the only person in any position to contest your claim, is conveniently missing.”

“I would never hurt Sebastian!” Valen gasped.  “You can’t be serious!”

Tessie stood, her chair scooting back.  “These are some very serious accusations to make without any evidence, officers.  Do you have anything that will hold up in a court of law?  Need I remind you that the nobility are explicitly entitled to the assumption of innocence in the absence of evidence, as per Decree 981, section 106 clause 4.”

“Mrs. Kithrara married in, and they've been separated, so she hardly counts as nobility, right?”

“Priscus Kithrara explicitly declined to sign divorce paperwork on multiple occasions and stated he didn't wish for their union to be dissolved.  And women who marry into nobility are entitled to all the legal rights of a born noblewoman, as per Decree 367, section 33, clause-”

“You and your clauses,” said Cop #1.  “I’ll show you claws.”

Tessie sat back down and started writing.  “Officer… Davis… threatened… physical… assault… against… a practitioner… of nobility law…”

Cop #1 crossed his arms stormily.  “Whatever.  We’re not gonna get anything out of the missus while this yahoo is here.  I think we’re done here.”

“I think we are.”

“Well I thought we were, first!”

“Well I concur!”

“Well you’re probably a faggot anyway!”

“Officer… Davis… leveraged… crude… language…”

“Don’t think this is the end of this.  The investigation is ongoing.”

And with that, the two cops absconded out the main entryway.

Valen watched them go with some relief.  “Goodness,” he murmured.  He unclasped his hands to find that they were sweaty.

“I don’t know where you came from,” Ari said to Tessie, “but thank you for saving our asses.”

“This is Tessie,” Valen said.  “We spoke on the phone earlier.”

Lex’s eyebrows went up.  “Oh, you’re Tessie?  Valen was so excited to meet you.”

Valen blushed, trying not to look excited for anything.  It wasn’t proper.  “Mrs. Tessandrax, these are my associates, Alexis and Ariana.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!”  Tessie went to grab Lex’s hand, before Ari broke in:  “Bad idea, sorry.”

Tessie pulled back.  “Oh?  You–Oh, you armored plated them!  That’s so clever.”

“I know they aren’t entirely safe here,” Valen said.  “I would rather no vampires touch them without permission.”

Tessie clasped her hands together, as though trying to restrain herself from shaking their hands anyway and burning herself.  “Very clever.  Yes, it’s so good to meet you.  I haven���t gotten to meet many humans who were, er, cognizant.”

“Right,” Ari said.  “So, pardon me for bein’ rude, but to get right to the point:  Why are you helping Valen?  Why’d you call him here and bust in to beat those cops back?”

“Right!”  Tessie's hair bounced as she gave a little hop, then she seemed to settle down, mimicking Valen’s attempts to restrain his enthusiasm.  “I know an opportunity when I see one!  This whole affair with the Kithrara estate is going to take years to untangle, and you’re going to need a good lawyer to guide you through the process.  And one who, perhaps, can help you navigate this in a way that benefits humans, as well.”

“Really?” Lex said. 

“I’m sympathetic to the plight of humans, and I’ve heard Valen is, too.  If we play our cards right, we might be able to shut down the blood farms entirely.”

***

Taglist

@tomato-whump @dragonfireridge @taterswhump @whump-cravings

@scoundrelwithboba @pigeonwhumps @whumpsday @whumpy-writings @fuzzydarkpebble

@melodicnommer @thecyrulik @snake462 @gt-daboss @appelsiinilight

@star-rott @mottinthemainpot @corvidat @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumplr-reader

@honeycollectswhump @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpycries @starfields08000

[improbable-implosions]

A little mend here that I was pleasantly surprised worked, I fixed the fraying bits on my book-shaped wallet! Figured that red thread works quite well with the themes of War of the Worlds.

First up, we've got some simple stitches perpendicular to the edge of the wallet, think a blanket stitch but the thread doesn't run through the loop created. Honestly, there are probably more complex ways I could have stitched that vinyl "leather" back onto the fabric and cardboard of the book structure, but I figured these simple stitches would be faster, and work just fine.

Second, on a slightly larger tear on the "spine" corner, I did some randa stitching! This actually draws from a style of embroidery I'm almost completely unfamiliar with, most popular in Brazil, so I may be labeling it wrong. If you know better, let me know! It's a sort of baseball-stitching like process, I was roughly following this video as a tutorial: https://vm.vxtiktok.com/t/ZT8TNMKw9/

and also this one to understand how to get started: https://vm.vxtiktok.com/t/ZT8TNrMML/ (Excuse the tiktok links, but I am not immune to the allure of short video on occasion! I even have posts of my own, every now and again)

I actually need to do similar rim-lining on the other three corners, as the adhesive is starting to come off, and that'll hold it still enough to solve the problem.

Also, some miscellaneous adventures in hemming patches properly! A process that proved MUCH simpler once I found my rolled hem foot. These two patches came out quite good, actually! straight stitching, for the most part, and relatively even folds.

It was much simpler to get the hems just so on a larger patch like this one, thankfully! I'm actually really pleased with the way this one in particular came out, and hopefully, I can make something pretty with it on the thigh of the jeans it goes with. (yes, that's why the patches are numbered, so I can keep track of where they go in the stack!)

Even despite how well things went overall with the patches, I still fumbled, got a bit hasty in trying to get the corner of one of the later patches through the machine. Said haste had me trying to shove shove, cram cram the fabric through the foot to get it hemmed, turns out, don't do that! Results in bending the needle on my machine! Oof!

Luckily, the machine came with some spare needles, so it only slowed me down a little bit!

[iantimony]

it's tuesday!

last weekend someone taught me how to catch crayfish when wading and this weekend i successfully grabbed one!! proof at the end of the post.

listening: guess (charli xcx, billie eilish): old roommate put this on for me and helloooooo. it's so. yeah. (link is the official music video, warning for flashing) it led me to this playlist cunty trashy slutty skanky which, first of all, excellent playlist name; second of all, what a fucking combination of songs?? something about the juxtaposition of nirvana -> kesha -> korn, etc is. insane in a good way.

last week was bandcamp friday! i last-minute got a few things: finally got sammy rae's "good life" and "let's throw a party", and preordered their newest album "something for everybody". i still need to buy my ticket for their concert near to me this fall. then i got sad snack's full discography for like $5 (the no children ska cover lol), the altogether's "when we were kids" which has been a go-to comfort album for me for a bit, shakey graves "deadstock" anthology, and finally the dear hunter "antimai".

i've been back on the podcast grind, just casually keeping up with stuff like mbmbam sawbones lpotl etc as they come out. most recent mbmbam (episode....730?? jesus christ) has some REALLY funny bits, notably towards the beginning where the cincinnati tornado sirens were being tested and griffin made a comment about the air raid sirens going off again and travis was like ?? dude i'm not in the fucking blitz??? it was very good. there was something else towards the end of the episode that also made me laugh out loud -- oh yes i just went and relistened to the last minute and it's the wish at the end, "i wish my cat would know what it means when i flip him off". so fucking true griffin. i was considering going to one of their tour dates but unfortunately they will be in the nearest city to me when i'm out of town for my second wedding of the fall. ah well

reading: most fallow. lots of little articles for my research.

watching: shane dawson and the art of the constant rebrand - jimmy robins: little retrospective about a guy who i never really liked and haven't thought about in years. i guess he's still around ??? okay. not gonna embed it so you don't get jumpscared by his face.

playing: this is a partial share with watching but last weekend my old roommate and i hung out with one of our friends with the intention of having dinner and crafting. however. we were so tired from kayaking earlier that day that we just ended up watching friend play stray and not crafting at all. it's really cute! i did get Very emotional at the beginning when the cat fell! i was like no!!!

my friend mostly played it but i did do a little bit, it was lots of fun. there was a very funny bit where friend, getting really in the mindset of Being Cat, pulled out a battery pack from a fan and was like "hehe i'm gonna drop it off the roof!" and did it before we could stop her, we were like wait we might need that to solve a puzzle -- but the answer was no it was fine, which is good, because it ended up dropped on a completely inaccessible rooftop ledge below, oopsie.

making: !!! ALL REDACTED !!! i will be able to post some of it next week. i do not know if beloved mutual celestialtourguide reads these regularly but just to be safe. allegedly the glaze kiln WILL be done by wednesday so i will finally know how fucked my guys are. if they're very fucked it'll be like. well, okay, i guess my gift is just money now,

other redacted item is embroidery related!

eating: mostly leftovers from last week, i think im gonna make crisped chickpeas with herbs and garlic yogurt from deb smittenkitchen to use up a zucchini that i have languishing in the fridge. it'll be a nice light lunch.

misc: THE PRELIMINARY EXAM DOCUMENT EXISTS. rejoice. however this comes with the caveat that i don't have a date set yet because i am in the trenches of trying to solve a Very specific problem with my software. the solution is a complete unknown to me as of now. it is in the stage of "putting key words in quotation marks in google scholar and going down the list emailing all the authors like heyyyy help please", which is scary. at least one other person has done something semi-similar - in fact they have my advisor in their acknowledgements thanking them for her editing help lol - so i'm hoping i'm nearly there. because once that is resolved i can FINALLY set a date, which, assuming i pass, also sets the earliest point at which i can give my thesis defense! scary!!

anyway. crayfish proof. it looks like im squishing him way worse than i actually was, he got released and swam away safely do not worry

[kxttsstuff]

Borrower Age & Education 

🐿️;; When a borrower is born, they're already considered a child, not a ‘baby’ in the human way of seeing it. Because of that, they already have very important responsibilities on their backs. And their very first task is to learn how to walk, which they learn to do in their first month of life. This is why it is said “Borrowers are born working”

🐿️;; Borrowers are surprisingly fast learners, and it enhances their ability to adapt to multiple situations and skills that require a creative or a physical input. They also have a natural sense of curiosity, to learn how things work. To be curious for a borrower is healthy and normal, but when it's too much, it can lead to the awful consequence of being caught.

Education

🪡;; Obviously, borrowers normally don't have access to formalized forms of learning like schools or colleges, most of them would be what humans call homeschooled so that means most of their knowledge comes from his family and community. That also means families can prioritize certain skills over others, skipping them entirely or even teaching extra things, so this will list the most general possible of things borrowers learn since their early childhood in order to be considered independent and fully capable once they reach adulthood.

🪡;; Most commonly, borrowers learn by example and observation, some parents might do something once and expect their child to figure it on their own. However, children get involved in almost any task or chore.

🪡;; All of these skills are almost never restricted to gender.

🪡;; Regarding mentality, borrowers are heavily encouraged to learn patience, perseverance, resilience, and develop quick problem-solving, decision-making, and critical-thinking trains of thought. These are all traits that portray a borrower as well educated.

🧵;; Sewing, embroidery and knitting. Borrowers learn to make and modify their own clothes according to the materials available and the season. Parents give children their first set of clothes, but they are encouraged to modify them themselves as they grow, or even start making their own.

🏹 ;; Hunting, skinning, tanning, tracking and crafting traps. Even though borrowers tend to prefer just borrowing food, in times of scarcity they'll resort to hunting so they must know different strategies for different prey, how to fight them, how to make full use of it, and are desensitized from a young age to what this entails.

🏥 ;; First aid. Borrowers are taught from a young age how to perform CPR, how to disinfect, stitch and cauterize wounds, make splints, treat poison, treat choking, bites, burns, and even panic attacks.

🔥 ;; How to ignite a fire without matches, to keep warmth, to cook food or to ward off predators. As well as learning how to obtain potable water in different circumstances.

⚔️ ;; How to craft and use weapons/shields of different kinds. They also learn how to make a variety of knots for this purpose, but also to make other tools or even shelters. Also, hand-to-hand combat.

💪🏻;; Techniques of self-defense, and evasion. Weapons aren't usually the response of a borrower at feeling threatened, so they must learn how to avoid a fight to escalate; by running, hiding, dodging, being stealthy or camouflaging.

🪚 ;; Making of shelters, miscellaneous tools, and basic carpentry (mainly to maintain their homes and furniture)

🌸 ;; Knowledge about the local fauna and flora. For most modern borrowers, “local fauna” might refer to cats, dogs, rodents and bugs.

🍓 ;; Foraging. Borrowers close to the wild might be more specialized in this. Those living in homes could identify edible plants and fungus, and in what stage of growth they are, as well as identifying herbs with medicinal value.

❗;; Specific communication-based skills; these might be unique based on gesture, sounds, symbols, or other non-verbal means of  borrower communication.

❓;; Basics of human psychology, biology and behavior; like why humans do some things and how to ‘read’ them. This knowledge might probably not be accurate to reality, but it has worked for them in the long-run. This can intertwine with their culture, generating fear-inspiring stories that ward off curious borrowers. They're also often expected to learn how to adapt to human routine.

📚 ;; Cultural values which often include the borrower rules, oral storytelling, resource management, risk assessment, environmental awareness and cooperation/teamwork.

🔢 ;; A very rudimentary math, mainly used to tell the time, counting things and do basic operations.

[valy-gc]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Stranger Place

You’re still trying to get your bearings when the silence is shattered by the echoing groan of massive double doors swinging open behind you. Instinctively, you whirl around. Light floods the hall, pouring in from the corridor beyond, and with it comes a procession of figures—at least a hundred, maybe more.

Your breath catches. At first glance, they look like ordinary people -though all wearing the same clothes except for one- but the details are all wrong. One man’s wings shimmer faintly, feathers shifting as if alive. A boy with dark furred ears keeps glancing around, his sharp eyes catching the light. Another figure, taller and with a set of twisting horns, strides confidently at the back.

But it’s the man leading them that draws your attention.

He’s tall, exuding a presence that demands respect without effort. His white coat flows behind him like a cape, the hem brushing the polished stone floor. His piercing blue eyes fix on you with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. He doesn’t look angry, exactly—more like he’s trying to solve a particularly vexing problem, and unfortunately, you’re the problem.

“You there,” he says, his voice smooth but sharp enough to cut through the tension. “What are you doing here? And how did you get in?”

You open your mouth, but nothing coherent comes out. What are you doing here? You were in a library, you think, but that already feels like a half-forgotten dream.

The man narrows his eyes. “Well? Speak up.”

You stammer something—an apology, maybe? A declaration that you have no idea what’s happening? His frown deepens, and he glances at the group behind him.

“Odd,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “You’re not supposed to be here. Students arrive by carriage, not… whatever this was.” He gestures vaguely, as if indicating the entire situation.

Students? Your confusion must show on your face because the man’s expression shifts slightly. Not softer, exactly, but less impatient.

“You are a new student, aren’t you? You’re wearing the ceremonial robes.”

Ceremonial robes? That’s impossible. You look down at yourself and freeze. Gone are your familiar clothes. Instead, you’re wrapped in a flowing white robe, intricate gold embroidery glinting faintly in the low light. The fabric feels impossibly soft, like woven light, and yet it’s undeniably real. It’s the same strange clothes the others persons are wearing.

Your head snaps back up. You want to protest, but the words falter. What can you even say?

The man sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Something unusual had to happen today. Why not? Just… get up. Let the others pass. We’ll sort this out in a moment.”

You scramble to your feet, heat rising to your face as the procession walks past, their eyes flicking toward you with varying degrees of curiosity and wariness. They gather around a massive, perfectly round pool in the center of the room. The water’s surface is so still it looks like glass, reflecting the faint light above.

The man gestures for you to follow and walks toward the group without waiting. You trail behind, trying to ignore the way your strange robes whisper with every step.

When he reaches the pool, he turns to face you. His gaze is assessing now, as if he’s trying to piece together a puzzle.

“My name is Solon Arclight. I am the headmage of Fablewood Academy. And you,” he says, “are about to participate in the Resonance Ceremony.”

Fablewood Academy? Resonance Ceremony? The words mean nothing to you. Solon seems to notice your blank expression, and for the first time, he looks genuinely perplexed.

“You don’t know what that is?”

You shake your head.

He blinks, then frowns. “Everyone in Scriptoria knows what the Resonance Ceremony is.”

Scriptoria? That word hits like a jolt, unfamiliar yet heavy with significance. It spirals through your mind as Solon continues speaking, though his words are drowned out by your racing thoughts.

What in the world is Scriptoria?

~~~

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

[lesbianaglaya]

wait hi please elaborate on your process of gift giving, im taking notes

happily :)))

planning ahead. okay so it depends first of all on how well you know the person. for my close friends + family (who are generally the people im getting gifts for) i try to listen and make note of when they mention something that might be a good gift! for example my mother was just talking about a rice pearl bracelet she had as a child that she wore till it fell apart. I know a local jewelry store that is both in my price range and makes things in my mother's style, looked on their website, and found a very similar bracelet that i could afford. gift found! planning also involves thinking ahead . im getting that for her for christmas, which is months away, but i know near christmas she'll be reluctant to mention things like that because people get weird about wanting gifts. it can also be less intense than that. my friend's birthday is this week, but a few months back i saw a necklace I knew she'd like at a charity sale and bought it. having the present ahead of time aslo helps prevent desperation in the days leading up to the event!

asking. It is so totally cool to ask people what they want. often they will prevaricate but if you say i am getting you a gift no matter what and you will be helping me by giving me ideas and they will concede. for example here my friend likes wool socks. i knit. i make them wool socks as gifts. i know to do this because i said 'i am going to knit you something. what would you like' and they told me! if youre worried about ruining the surprise the trick is to elevate their suggestion. to continue with the socks example, im not only making my friend a pair of wool socks, but i found a 1950s mens checked sock pattern that really fits their style! even just the added historical aspect, i know, will make my friend more excited about the gift.

utility. i think this is what really matters actually. i try to always find a gift idea that the person will absolutely use. fun little kitschy stuff is fine especially if youre in a rush, but its never going to be really exciting. giving people something that is helpful really makes receiving the gift exciting. getting someone who sews a needle book, or someone who loves music concert tickets allows them to see as soon as they get the gift how it makes their life more fun, or easier, or solves a problem for them. utility is used pretty generally here — a bracelet isnt necessary, but i know my mother will wear it. the goal is to find something that wont sit in a drawer forever till it gets donated.

for people you dont know as well, gift cards are great. try to figure out something they will (again) find useful, get them a gift card, and then elevate it by including a handmade object like a piece of embroidery, homemade cookies, a handmade pretty paper box, etc. if youre not at all able to make things thats also fine! this is where utility can be let go a little. go to a local souvenir or gift shop and find a small thing that suits their taste. this immediately makes the gift card feel way more personal and thoughtful. If youre short on cash, for people close to you offer a service: a baking day with your mother, a movie night with a friend where every time youre the one who gets up to refill drinks, a scavenger hunt youve invented at a free museum together. the real key is a personal element. even a handmade card that suits the person can be more exciting to receive than an expensive gift that isnt their style or taste.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 7

When Atticus invites you to accompany him to the library, you go against Quintus' wishes to remain home.

Chapter list

You yelp in pain and the fine linen soaks up crimson, fabric staining red underneath the golden flowers you have been embroidering. Bringing your index finger to your mouth, you suck on the small droplet of blood that had been forming there, the needle already the cause of a dozen pinpricks in your skin. 

Quintus looks up with a scowl on his face, his jaw tensing. “Can’t you be quiet? I’m trying to work here.” You don’t reply, instead narrow your eyes and continue your sewing in silence. There is no fibre in your being that would even consider giving him the satisfaction of a reply.

“Dominus.” Gaius enters the room and puts his hand on his heart, bowing his head slightly. “Atticus Aemilius Pulcher is here to see you.”

Your heart skips a beat, your embroidery work suddenly way less interesting. Fiddling with the needle, you find it to be abruptly more difficult to set a stitch. 

“Is it urgent?”

“Of course it’s urgent.” There is no voice in the world that you have ever been more excited about to hear and you nearly drop your crafts, shifting to sit up a little straighter from your slouching position, hoping to appear more elegant. Atticus steps into the room and Gaius gives Quintus an apologetic look. Your husband waves off the centurion, who hurries away.

Sadness tugs at your heartstrings when Atticus does not immediately glance your way, but you do not blame him. Doing so would perhaps raise the suspicion of Quintus, so you keep down your own excitement as well. “What do you want now? Fishing for another invitation to a dinner party? Perhaps you should gain some credit with me first, marshall, give me something good before I might consider—”

“I wouldn't be here if it weren’t for business.” Atticus’ eyes momentarily find you and make you fluster in your seat. “Good to see you again, my lady.” His voice is promptly gentler, nearly making you squirm.

“Likewise, Cohortes.”

When you feel Quintus’ gaze prickle the side of your face, you quickly turn your attention back to the embroidery in your hands. “Forgive her for speaking out of turn.” your husband pipes up, “And as for your business, I am certain that it is pressing enough, otherwise you wouldn’t drag yourself all the way here again. So, spill it, why don’t you?”

“It has to do with the extremism that has been happening around the city as of lately. A violent mob, somebody got assassinated, people are restless around here and something is afoot.”

“What are your findings?”

“Zealots, likely. You know who they are?”

Quintus scoffs. “Of course I do. Nothing Rome can’t solve. A bunch of goons with a persecution complex.”

“They’re a little like roaches, if you will,” Atticus explains, “Have a few, nothing to panic about. But when they spread in the dark and become too many, you have a true problem, a possible health hazard as they start to soil your supplies.” 

Your husband raises an eyebrow. “And why haven’t you arrested them yet?”

“Because I only have one pair of eyes and arresting one or two will create martyrs.”

“So you have come here to request my aid?”

Atticus crosses his arms. “Indeed. These are your streets, Quintus. Don’t force me to report back to Rome eventually with intelligence about how poorly you handle extremist threats.”

The frown that twists Quintus’ features into displeasure tells of his annoyance towards the Cohortes right now. A few seconds of intense eye-contact ensue, the tension tangible in the room. You hold your breath, witnessing it unfold, until Quintus is the one to break it.

“Fine.” he admits, “I’ll look into it.”

“Do it soon, Quintus, and do it well. Chasing them back to the shadows will only give them a chance to grow, and then, they’ll strike when we least expect it.”

For a moment, your husband freezes on his spot, his chin pinched between his fingers, as if considering something. He then moves at once, grabbing his helmet and cloak, his weapons, and waltzes out of the door without as much as a glance your way.

Atticus turns to you and gives you a small smile. “Enjoying yourself, my lady?” You hold up the embroidery you had been doing and shrug, causing him to chuckle a little. “Ah, I see.”

You stand and dare to approach him, albeit with wobbly legs, your stomach twisting in circles when his scent reaches you. It’s more comforting than you’d like to admit. “It’s boring at best.”

The Cohortes makes an amused sound and pleasantly smiles at you. “I’ve been reading Metamorphoses, and I must say, I’m glad you recommended it to me.”

A soft hum leaves your lips. “Ah, I’m happy to hear that, Cohortes. We should discuss the details soon. I’m sure you’re busy enough as is.”

“For you, I’ll make time.”

The words aren’t unpleasant, nor forced, and he watches you thoughtfully for a good second before opening his mouth to speak.

“Would you like to accompany me to the local library? I've heard they have recently imported some new works from Cicero."

With a wry smile, you shake your head at him. "I would have loved to, Atticus, but Quintus has forbidden me to visit any public places with the violence about. He's unrelenting about it."

He frowns. "Oh... I know it might sound daunting, but have you considered... Sneaking away?"

Your eyes widen and you can't help but smile a little. "You mean the way I did whilst wearing that awful disguise?"

Atticus chuckles and nods in acknowledgement. "That's what I mean!" 

After laughing together for a few moments, you lower your gaze, a little shy. "I ah... Perhaps I could try." 

"Tomorrow," the Cohortes proposes, "After the second meal. I'll be around in case you need me to cause a distraction."

Oh, Atticus is a distraction indeed - to you . With a nod, you settle the appointment. "Meet me under the fig tree at the town square," the Cohortes says, grabbing your hand to once again kissing the back of it. The sensation makes your gut pleasantly stir and is even nicer than the first time.

He lingers there, finding your gaze. Your breath stutters.

With a smile, he finally pulls away, letting you go. You resist the urge to chase his warmth, can't do anything else but blush at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." says Atticus, "This time around, the figs will be fresh instead of candied."

The comment sends your system into overdrive and you take a moment to process what he had just said, but he backs away before you can ask more about it. "Have a wonderful day, my lady."

"I'll-I'll see you later, Atticus..." you murmur, watching him leave whilst your heart stutters unevenly in your chest. Had he... Had he just severely hinted that the candied figs from a few days ago had come from him ? Your knees feel weak and no sensible thought formed in your mind.

With one final look over his shoulder, he leaves the chamber. Your lips tremble when you fight the wide grin threatening to spread there.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

_

Eventually, it arrives. Quintus returns home in the dead of night and luckily does nothing but grumble a little whilst crawling under the covers beside you, vaguely mentioning the possibility of civil war, but you’re certain that he is exaggerating, as he always does. You’re awake long before breakfast, spend some extra time dolling up - it’s not a date, right? - and use your most expensive perfume to subtly apply to your wrists and neck. Since you’re supposed to go in disguise, the least you can do is try to make your face look pretty.

This time around, you use a coat that is not as heavy as the one you had borrowed from Quintus a few days ago, which makes for a more agreeable look. You don’t know how to not look Roman, quite frankly, so you’re glad that you’ll be at Atticus’ side most of the time. Praetor Quintus doesn’t seem keen on having you around today, which gives you enough space to sneak away.

Under the fig tree, as discussed the day before, Atticus stands with one hand on the hilt of his sword, holding a half-eaten apple in the other. His casual confidence is endearing. When you approach him, he finds you with a small smile on his features, and he winks. He tosses the core of the apple into the shrubbery and observes your new guise.

“Still Roman-looking, but you are starting to get the hang of it.”

“Teach me your ways.” you jest.

Atticus reaches for your red cloak. “Swap this out for a more muted colour and we’ll speak again.” You are aware that he is only teasing but you still feel your cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “Come on, let’s go.”

The library isn’t too far away. On Atticus’ arm, you float here within a quarter of an hour. The warmth that radiates from him is enough to set your entire form aflutter with feelings you certainly have not have mustered towards Quintus in any moment of time. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you say, “It isn’t easy being under Quintus’ roof all the time, especially with the current nice weather. I enjoy the noise of the market. It inspires me to write poetry about everyday things. See that merchant over there?”

You discreetly point out a salesman that is trying his best to force one of his pigeons back into its cage, but it flutters in protest despite the man’s best efforts. He cusses at it in a language you don’t know until it breaks free and flies away before the merchant can stop it. With a dejected face, the pigeon keeper watches it take off, far beyond his reach.

Both you and Atticus laugh at the amusing scene, but your smile soon falls. “Sometimes I feel like a bird being locked inside a cage. Seeing this happen makes me think of ways to implement it into my poetry.”

Atticus hums, tilting his head curiously. “Ah… I see. Do you write about all topics?”

You nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Mainly how I feel.”

The Cohortes lets out a sound. “You should read me something one of these days, if you want to of course. Ah, here we are.” The pair of you halts next to a building and he opens the door for you to let you go in first.

You honestly hadn’t expected much of Capernaum’s library, but you have to admit that it is quite nice on the inside. Two dozen shelves are stocked all the way to the top and you nearly trip over a pile of books. A woman behind the desk smiles at you. “Welcome,” she says.

You greet her back and remove your hood, taking in the place. “It’s beautiful here.” you comment towards Atticus, who smiles warmly.

“Isn’t it? Come on, let me show you where the poetry is. I’m certain that you’ll like it.”

You follow him to the back of the library, just around the corner in a secluded section. About thirty-some books stand with their spines towards you, almost calling out your name. You let out a small, content noise, and Atticus chuckles whilst you pry one out, letting your eyes flit over the cover.

“If you want to borrow anything, just let me know.” He takes a copy of Odes from Horace off the shelf and flicks through it. You watch him from the corner of your eye.

Atticus returns it before you can ask what he thinks of it and you quickly look away, skimming through the pages of the book in your own hands. His presence behind you is maddening almost, with your heartbeat thumping inside your ears at the gentle brush of his body against yours when he reaches out to take something from the ledge above you.

Closing your eyes, you fight your blush at his proximity. Atticus smells musky, like sweat and leather with an earthy note to it, a hint of oil somewhere. It is already so familiar that you’re certain that you’ll drown in it.

“Have you ever read the Song of Songs, (Y/n)?” he queries.

Your nose turns pink and you dare to look at him. “Isn’t that… That’s from the Jews, right?”

Another chuckle comes from him. He nods and flips through the pages. “Controversial, perhaps, but let’s see…” 

He clears his throat, momentarily finding your gaze before he reads aloud: 

“Where has your beloved gone,

O fairest among women?

Where has your beloved turned aside,

That we may seek him with you?”

Your breath hitches when he glances at you again, locking eyes. A short silence follows, and you wonder if he meant it as a question directed towards you. Without breaking eye-contact, he puts the book away again, stepping closer in the process. Your body freezes at his nearness, throat running dry.

His breath brushes against your face, his usual charming smile not present at this moment. Instead, he tips up your chin with his finger, eyes flicking between yours, searching fear, or regret. “Where has your beloved gone, o fairest among women?” he repeats. Your lids flutter shut and exhale shakily.

The boldest of questions leaves his lips. 

“Do you love him?” Atticus inquires. You sharply gasp, stepping back, looking at him with slight shock on your face when your back hits the bookshelf. His face immediately contorts into one of regret. “I-I didn’t mean to… I… I apologise if I’ve overstepped a boundary with that question.” 

There is no fibre in your being that is able to reply to him right now. Slack-jawed, you stare at him whilst shaking your head, tears prickling behind your eyes. 

“Perhaps I should drop you off home,” Atticus proposes, “I… I went too far, and I fear that I read you wrong, I–”

“No.”

The firm statement causes Atticus to freeze. “No.” you repeat. To which of his comments it was directed is left ambiguous. 

He bites his bottom lip, observing you closely. “I see.” he mutters kindly.

“Atticus, I–” You step closer to him but halt halfway through reaching for his cheek, shame suddenly creeping its way up your cheeks. “I-I find our interactions more than enjoyable.” you confess nevertheless.

The man smiles - you’re getting weak at the knees at the sight of it - and relaxes. “Me too,” he states. 

He takes his distance by stepping back, out of respect, you assume. Still, you want him to close the gap, to lose yourself in the sight of his dark eyes and the musky scent of his being. 

Despite your marital status, you yearn for him. Pursuing it would spell a death sentence for both of you.

“I don’t think we should see each other, Atticus,” you whisper, closing your eyes to fight back the tears. “You… You confuse me.” Your voice breaks, but you remain strong.

“How so?” he asks.

“I shouldn’t…” you whisper, “I shouldn’t tell. It would be… Improper to do so.”

There it was, your ambiguous confession. Atticus smiles curiously. 

“I won’t pry,” he promises. “For now. Let’s get you home.”

The air between you is thick with tension. “Already?” you murmur, almost disappointed.

“You’re probably being missed.”

He is right, and so, you follow him to the exit.

The woman behind the desk lends you one of Virgil’s works, Eclogues, even though the Song of Songs remains on the shelf despite your initial intention to take it with you. Atticus’ citation has made you curious, but the fear that Quintus would find out about it makes you decide to leave it be.

With your hood pulled up again, the pair of you stroll towards the estate in pleasant silence, until he breaks it.

“The book you’ve given me, Metamorphoses. It’s… Interesting.”

Your face lights up at the mention thereof. “How far are you?” you’re eager to know.

“Hm, I’ve just read the story of Cadmus and his Queen transforming into serpents, if I recall correctly.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re quite far, then.”

“I’m a fast reader.”

A brief silence, nonetheless enjoyable.

“Say,” Atticus begins, “What do you think the meaning of the book might be?”

You look at him, slowing in your step a bit. “What Ovid is trying to tell us, you mean?”

He hums in acknowledgement. It takes a moment to formulate a proper answer.

“Then, I think it means this. Every single person is constantly changing and transforming throughout their life. And even though it is written as a chronological series of events from the beginning of time until Caesar’s death, there is one constant throughout, which is chaos . Change does not always come easy. Sometimes you have to fight to survive through it.”

Atticus puts his hand on top of yours as it rests around his arm. The contact makes you jolt, but you don’t pull away.

“That is an interesting point,” he muses.

“I think it somehow reflects how we are,” you clarify. “We are changing, too. You cannot escape transformation. Some loathe it, some require it, and others crave it.”

When you fall quiet, Atticus looks at you. “And you, (Y/n)?”

You blink a few times in puzzlement. “Beg your pardon?”

“Do you loathe change, require it, or crave it?” He slows down at the word crave , as if already knowing the answer. 

“I…” you start, but sigh right after. “I crave it,” you then whisper. The Cohortes squeezes your hand against him. “I do not know how to achieve it yet, but yes… And you?”

Atticus chuckles as you halt underneath the fig tree where you had met this afternoon. Dusk is already creeping up, visible in the colours of the sky. You just hope that Quintus has not returned home yet. 

“I think you’re already right in the middle of transformation, (Y/n). Something important is going to happen. I can just sense it. It is almost tangible in the air.”

You smile softly and hug the book you’ve lent a little tighter against you. “Perhaps.” you whisper, “Here’s to hoping.”

“I won’t keep you any longer.” Atticus declares. He pecks the back of your hand again, a sensation that never fails to send a swarm of butterflies through your system. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, “You’ve been spending a lot of your valuable time on me lately. I understand if you cannot afford to do so anymore.”

“You stop that silly talk, now.” he states, holding onto your hand tightly, “If there is anything you need, just say the word.”

He releases you, which is your cue to start walking off. You feel his eyes burn in the back of your head, watching you leave. 

Once the residence comes into view, you feel yourself tense up. 

It is clear that the man of the house has already come home right away. Quintus’ cloak and helmet are stored in the foyer. Dread settles in your gut and you sneak up the stairs to stow away your disguise. 

Your husband has sensed your presence and clears his throat behind you just as you stuff the old coat into the dresser. Exposed, you straighten your back, breath hitching in your throat as you hear him approach, closing the door behind him.

“Well well, if it isn’t my disobedient wife.” When you don’t turn, he hisses: “Look at me.”

Deeming you not quick enough, he grabs your hair from the back and twists you around in his arms, bringing his face in front of yours. He tilts back your head, looking down at you with such hatred that you doubt for just a second that you ever married him. He stinks of wine.

“Where were you, huh?! Weren’t my instructions clear enough?!” He tightens his grip on your hair and you wince, holding up your hands in defence. “You think I’m a laughing stock?”

“No!” you whimper, “No, I just… I felt like I was getting crazy in here, Quintus!”

“Think I need your excuses?” A few droplets of saliva land on your face as he barks, your eyes narrowing in disgust. 

He releases your hair at last, but not for good reasons. With the back of his hand, he strikes you across the face. 

For a split second, your ears ring. With a gasp, you feel your cheekbone sting, trembling fingers reaching up to find a tiny cut on your skin. You gawk at him in disbelief. Quintus stares at you for a few seconds, inspecting you closely, until the rage in his eyes dies down a bit. He seems to consider your earlier words.

For the first time in forever, he allows you some space. 

“Fine.” he bites, “But not without a chaperone.”

You pull straight your tunic once he steps back, giving you a warning glare. Only when Quintus has stumbled back down the stairs to get another goblet of wine, you dare move. Heading for the mirror in the washroom, you wince at the sight of the small injury that your husband has inflicted upon you. You leave it alone after prodding at it for a second, thinking it best to leave it be.

With a hazy mind, you spend the rest of your day in your sitting room, the copy of Eclogues remaining unopened on your desk.

Next chapter Chapter list

[acf-lab]

Innovative materials to help the machinery industry, ACF vibration damping pads become the new choice for large-scale equipment damping damping

With the progress of science and technology and industrial development, the performance and efficiency of large-scale mechanical equipment has become a key factor in promoting industrial upgrading. However, the vibration and impact problems generated during the operation of the equipment have been one of the important factors restricting its performance improvement. Recently, a new type of shock absorbing pad called ACF artificial cartilage material has attracted wide attention in the machinery industry, becoming an innovative choice to solve the vibration problem of large equipment.

It is understood that the traditional rubber shock absorbing pads are prone to aging problems after a long time of use, resulting in a decline in the damping effect, and may even cause damage to the machine itself and the surrounding environment. Especially in large machinery and equipment, this problem is more prominent, to the enterprise's productivity and equipment maintenance has brought great challenges.

In order to solve this problem, Linzhi Technology has developed ACF artificial cartilage material. This material is developed according to the principle of cartilage tissue, with excellent vibration damping performance and corrosion resistance, shock absorption up to 97.1%, as well as good environmental protection and processing performance. It is made of industrial shock absorbing pads, shock absorbing rings, shock absorbing bearings, composite shock absorbers can effectively absorb and disperse the vibration energy of the machine operation, reduce the vibration and noise of the machine, improve the precision and stability of the machine. Compared with the traditional rubber, TPU shock pads, ACF shock pads have higher damping performance and longer service life, and are not susceptible to the effects of temperature, oil and chemical substances and aging. ACF material molecular structure designability and diversified shape characteristics, but also with other metals, composite materials, and the composition of more composite multifunctional vibration isolator device.

According to the relevant mechanical engineers back, ACF artificial cartilage material is also excellent in impact resistance, able to withstand large impacts without deformation, long life, lightweight and small size. This characteristic makes it perform well in large mechanical equipment and become an ideal choice to solve the vibration problem.

At present, more and more enterprises have begun to use ACF vibration-damping mats to replace the traditional rubber vibration-damping mats. The person in charge of a well-known textile embroidery manufacturer said: "After using ACF vibration damping mats, our equipment and floor vibration problems have been effectively solved, and production efficiency has been significantly improved. At the same time, due to its excellent corrosion resistance and impact resistance, we have also reduced the frequency of needle breakage repairs and lowered operating costs."

It is reported that the shock absorbing pads made of ACF artificial cartilage materials are not only suitable for large mechanical equipment, but also can be widely used in shoes, human body protection, electronic protection, automobile collision avoidance, construction, rail transportation, aerospace and other fields. Its excellent performance and environmental characteristics bring new shock absorption solutions for various industries and help enterprises realize sustainable development and industrial upgrading.

ACF artificial cartilage material made of vibration damping pads in solving the vibration problems of large machinery and equipment reflects the significant advantages of science and technology is the first productive force. Its excellent performance and wide range of application prospects make it become the new darling of the machinery industry vibration damping upgrade, for the sustainable development of enterprises and industrial upgrading provides strong support. With the continuous progress of science and technology and the broadening of the field of application, I believe that the ACF material vibration damping pads will play a greater role in the future, bringing more innovation and breakthroughs in various industries.

400-6543-699

www.acf.com

[myinternshipjourneymroyal]

Entry 4: Challenges you faced

While I thoroughly enjoyed both internship opportunities, they weren’t without their challenges. One major challenge was the travel time from home to the organisations. To get to either, it was over an hour’s commute each way, through peak hour city traffic. To minimise this as much as possible, I organised to attend both internships on the same day; DSR during the day, and North in the evenings. This worked out perfectly and meant that time was used effectively. This was also cost-effective on saving money on petrol, and lessened my carbon footprint through minimising driving time.

There were also instances of communication delay, or no communication at all. I experienced this at the beginning of my internship at North, where I did not hear back from my internship supervisor there for a few weeks during the period of filling out the paperwork. This meant that I started my internship a week later than anticipated, as the paperwork needed to be filled out prior to commencing. It took from the 3rd of February 2023 to the 20th of February, including a follow up email to check on the process, to receive the paperwork back. On tasks at DSR, there was a communication delay, in which I didn’t receive all the necessary information or aspects to fully complete a task. To work around this, I completed the tasks to the best of my ability, and always ensured to follow up with additional emails.

Paperwork follow up. (Royal, 2023).

Another challenge was knowing nobody who worked in either organisation, and while this was a great opportunity to network, it was also a bit nerve-wracking.  I took the time to get to know people and familiarise myself with them, but also to show them who I am and the skills I offer. It did help that at NMFC, I had a fellow student there who was also completing the internship. We supported each other and were able to problem solve any issues that arose together. One issue was not having the correct number jumper for a player, as it was awaiting embroidery of a logo – instead we selected another jumper for the player to wear that day, and registered it on the team list.

However, one of the biggest challenges I faced was external. I had a close family member pass away suddenly two days before his wedding, which not only turned my world on an axis, but my family’s as well. While I didn’t miss any days, this still played on my mind constantly and certainly impacted me mentally. To work through this, I leant on those around me, and focused on everything that I enjoyed doing.

I used my time management skills effectively, and used the practice of timetabling – which has been proven to improve productivity and planning (Cope, 2021; Gade & Yeo, 2019). This allowed to set prioritised tasks, both relating to the internship and not – such as studies, events, work and other commitments. This ensured that I used my time wisely and was as productive as possible.

References:

Cope, S. (2021, April 1). 18 effective time management strategies and techniques. Up Work. https://www.upwork.com/resources/time-management-strategies

Gade, L., & Yeo, H. L. (2019). Work–Life Integration and Time Management Strategies. Clinics in Colon and Rectal Surgery, 32(6), 442–449. https://doi.org/10.1055/s-0039-1693011

Royal, M. (2023, February 16). Paperwork follow up [email].

[jilliannoel14]

I started out by knocking out the stencils prints. I decided to do a goldfish with 3 different sized bubbles coming out of its mouth. With no particular reason behind this choice, I did it for the pure curiosity of seeing how it would turn out. I traced my fish onto the contact paper. I crafted together my screen with the voile fabric, embroidery hoop, tightening it as I went. I then taped out the parts I wasn’t printing on after I drew out the paper measurements onto the screen. I mixed my emulsion with the black acrylic ink and plopped it on the top of my screen after creating registration marks for mypaper and elevated cardboard for the screen to sit on top of. I did my first passover and my first print came out great. It was a bit difficult to keep the paper aligned perfectly with the screen so I had to problem solve a bit by taping down half of it. With the next set of prints I also learned I didn't need to ink all the way to the edge of the paper.

I did the same starter process for my silk monotypes except putting a 1” border around the paper. These also turned out well. I knew ahead of time that flooding the screen might prevent a lighter image appearing on the paper so I really didn't run into any bad prints. The first one was a bit light but the rest came out great. I did try to print the ghost of my stencil but the emulsion just covered it all back up so the ghost didn’t show up. It was also hard to see the print on the one I printed on the eco printed paper because the paper started out so dark from the original stains. I reused my butterfly stencil from the gelatin project which was a fun thing to see reappear back into my work.

The acrylic resist prints were the hardest (middle). I chose a bible verse personal to me: "Fearfully and wonderfully made." I did the same beginning process as the other two print types above, as well as tracing out the letters and adding the acrylic resist on top. The first print shown in the image on the bottom came out pretty bad. I definitely didn't paint enough acrylic resist on so I had to go back and do another layer. It didn't turn out perfect but you could still clearly read the letters so I will take it. I printed on two of my silk monotype paper prints and an eco print paper as well!

[acodexofourtime]

Love, From Vicki Island

As he rounded the bend in the old tufa causeway that led to the harbor, Doctor Orfeo got a feeling that things would continue to not be as they seemed that day, and perhaps for a long time to come. Having defeated another obstacle in the launderers’ quarter on the bluff above the harbor, he was one ally richer and poorer in time and energy. This was the case for his more recent adventures.

Thoughts about Doctor Ione raced through his head - but he also thought about an ancient plague of infectious orange blood that spread like quicksilver through the Greek colonies in Campania during the pre-Roman era. He thought about Don Benedetto, too, even though the Doctor tried to put him out of his mind. There was so much more that needed to be done, beyond even solving the mysteries that besieged the city of Santa Ninfa.

Sometimes he imagined scenarios where the city was encouraged to evacuate to a nicer town along the coast, one where the only problems were ones of a municipal nature rather than a metaphysical one. For whatever reason, Santa Ninfa stood at the threshold of worlds and was always known for burning the candle at both ends.

On one side, the old volcano, and on the other, the sea. A long line of metaphysical doctors like Doctor Orfeo had visited the city in old times and kept a council of doctors, the Association of the Psychic Lancet, which held the reality warp that emanated from the very foundations of the city at bay. But as years passed, the Association’s purpose was forgotten, and their institutional knowledge waned until attrition and time finished it off for good.  After the eldest member retired to a vineyard, all that was left was the most junior member, a woman who kept a shimmering cloud in her cupboard.

After selling off the old Council offices, a squat building of tan masonry with terra-cotta reliefs depicting miraculous works, and locking the front door for the last time, she left it to memory in the half darkness. She later held a little boy’s hand in hers as the two of them boarded a dark car and left the studio that was their home since the boy was born. The little boy looked up to the red-framed window with the stained glass floral rondele, and knew it was the last time he’d ever look on the street from that vantage.  “That was some time ago,” thought Doctor Orfeo.

Doctor Orfeo gazed through the pitted archway of veined marble, past the old bronze gate, and saw a woman standing by the iron railing around the harbor overlook. For a moment, he thought she was Doctor Ione, but he knew better. She looked over her shoulder as he approached and stopped a distance to her left. After a time, they looked to one another and exchanged smiles. She wore a long indigo colored coat with amber embroidery, and her round glasses reflected the blueness of the sea.

“There’s nothing like this place,” he said.

“Not in the whole city. I’ve read that this used to be the site of a lagoon some two hundred years ago. A precious ship sank and they built this overlook on top of it, vowing that no finer vessel could ever dock here again,” she said.

“You’re well versed in Santa Ninfa’s history,” replied the Doctor. “I’m Doctor Orfeo, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

The woman smiled, “Doctor Mikare, Empathic Botanist. Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard about your work, Doctor Orfeo. Our fields are very different, but I was wondering if our paths would ever cross. I study the flooded forest that emerges every so often on the horizon. It tends to dry up, so I need to keep it going sometimes. If you ever see a green boat, that’s me. Empathic plants grow in that depressed island; a geode of time and space. I water them with my assistant’s tears so they’re never forgotten. He’s off in the jungles looking for rare onions as we speak, so now I’m waiting for him to return so I can get back to work.”

“Those plants must have considerable spirit. I’ve only read about such things, never seen them up close. But if they could grow anywhere, it’s here, this is as good an axis mundi as one can find, the place where the sea meets the horizon and then some.

“Yes,” Doctor Mikare replied, with one hand still upon the railing, “after one of the oldest volcanoes went dormant, it tore a direct line to the metaphysical realm. If you were to walk down one side of the sinkhole, you would get the impression that it goes on for about 300 kilometers, but it’s really a lot smaller. I teach the plants down there half-forgotten languages, so that it creates a kind of seed bank for the future.”

Doctor Orfeo smiled at that thought. The metaphysical crab apple that was hiding in his  coat pocket stirred with intensity at the idea of guzzling tears for breakfast. He patted his pocket softly and looked back out at the horizon beyond the railing. “I have an idea. This city is getting overrun right now with plant spirits. Do you think your empathic plants would have it in them to host some new neighbors on their island?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Doctor Mikare, and the imagined idea played out in her inner mind like a grand play.

As they hatched a plan, Doctor Orfeo quickly drew up some notes on the back of a colorful postcard with a blue and violet scrollwork border, emblazoned with the proclamation, “LOVE FROM VICKI ISLAND”.

[vvienne]

XICHENG FIC RECS

hold my hands by Snooze (Chiruka)

Transplanting a core into a new person isn’t without repercussions. One year after the events at Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng found himself once again faced with the possibility of losing everything he had. Reconciling with his brother, learning to let Jin Ling go, and dealing with his blooming emotions toward the First Jade of Gusu — will Jiang Cheng accomplish what he wants before time runs out?

it all passes someday by screamlet

A week before the anniversary of Wei Wuxian’s death, there was a commotion outside Lan Wangji’s house.

*

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji over the years.

The Unlikely Expression of Love by manamune

When everything has settled, when everyone else has moved on with their lives and their friends, Jiang Cheng has a realization which shouldn’t actually be a surprise:

He’s lonely.

Indigo, lavender, and violet (I don't wanna be red) by ohwhatevrewhatevr

It, in the pale colors of the late morning, is the closest to perfect Jiang Cheng will ever reach. He strokes Lan XiChen's hair and presses a light kiss to where his ribbon and hair meet. The sky is a pale blue, and the pastels of flowers and clouds are spread out through the window, a brilliant world waiting for them, them in the gentian house, safe from stronger breezes - there is the clutter of birds fluttering and chirping outside. It is a warm, perfect, spring morning.

Jiang Cheng and Lan XiChen have been together for an year. In which, no one ever really gets over things, Jiang Cheng has the misfortune of interacting with his brother, the juniors help out with the proposal, and there's a marriage.

Altitude by starknjarvis 

When Jin Ling lures Jiang Cheng to the Cloud Recesses under false pretenses, he finds himself out of place among this new family Wei Wuxian has formed.

Lan Xichen, at least, seems pleased to have his company.

Perhaps there is still a chance for Jiang Cheng to make amends and move forward.

[Modao Zushi Online] GLITCH REPORT: My Brother Got Chased Down And %$@*$&@ By Gusu Dungeon Boss??? by oh_fudgecakes

Modao Zushi Online is a virtual reality MMORPG. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are top ranking players in its new server, currently tied with their arch-nemesis from their previous server, Wen Chao. In an attempt to defeat him, they take on the Gusu Dungeon Boss, Zewu-jun, to win the reward of a legendary weapon. Ever the cheat, Wei Wuxian tries to take advantage of a glitch to defeat the seemingly undefeatable boss. It backfires. Jiang Cheng gets fucked by a boss monster.

He can't get enough.

Meanwhile, Lan Xichen, the unwitting staff member in charge of controlling Zewu-jun, absolutely did not sign up to be pulled into a secret virtual reality fling with a player. Mod Ji, who has to deal with Wei Wuxian's incessant glitch reporting of his brother's sex life, is long-suffering.

Mulberry by xxdz

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and pushes harder. He feels like torn silk, the embroidery needle sinking in again and again and again; patiently, desperately, endlessly trying to make something beautiful out of something broken.

Jiang Cheng builds his sect, learns embroidery, and raises his nephew.

we can raise a little family by lanyon

“Well, brother,” says Wei Wuxian, leaning against the outside of Jiang Cheng’s chambers. “I had heard that you and Xichen went on a night hunt and came back with a baby, which is not the order I’d choose to do things in…”

In which Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen acquire a baby of unknown origin, and are the very last to know what it means.

Beyond the Impossible by Silverine

Summoned by Lan Qiren, Jiang Wanyin goes to the Cloud Recesses to drop his nephew Jin Ling, expecting to discuss relevant matters with his old master. Instead, he's asked to take with him no other than Sect Leader Lan himself, all the way back to Lotus Pier. If the reason why he accepted such an outrageous task is indeed a mystery, he's about to be surprised by how this entire trip, their encounters, and his warm company, suddenly feel fated.

Incrementally by xxdz

Jiang Cheng is trapped in a day on repeat where he begins by waking in Zewu Jun’s bed at dawn and ends by dying painfully at dusk.

It’s getting very irritating, and he has the sneaking suspicion that his chances to solve his own murder are rapidly running out. Soon, his death will be much more permanent.

All in all, worst birthday ever.

Audience of One by WinterDreams

“Then let an established star go first,” Lan Xichen interrupts again before Lan Wangji can give a stubborn reply. Both men twist toward Lan Xichen, and he smiles at Wei Wuxian’s tilted head. “If I publicly date a man for awhile first, your engagement shouldn’t receive as much backlash.”

Or, that AU where everyone is famous in some way or another, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have been dating in private for years, and Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng pretend to date publicly for their brothers' sake.

A Bit of Ruthlessness by jirluvien

When Jiang Cheng hears that Lan Xichen went into seclusion following Jin Guangyao’s death, it’s almost as if he can see the grabby hands of a restless ghost, reaching out for something to keep him company. For something warm and living and devastated. And as history has proved time and time again, the Lans are perfect victims when it comes to giving in to ghosts.Yeah, no. Not on Jiang Cheng’s fucking watch.A story about grief, determination, unexpected friendships, abandoned watchtowers, and letters. So many letters.

All Tied Up In You by Clearpearls

Yet again, the night had come to this:

Jiang Cheng on the floor, kneeling, Zidian wrapped around his wrists.

Alone.

Thank You, and I'm Sorry by Hamliet

Jin GuangYao might be dead, but his story is not. Taking advantage of the chaos he instigated, someone makes an attempt on the life of the young new leader of the Jin Sect. When Jiang Cheng takes Jin Ling to the Cloud Recesses to have him study while he attempts to work with Wei WuXian and his husband Lan WangJi to eliminate the threat, he encounters a mourning Lan XiChen, lovestruck teenagers, and a persistent corpse--and both pairs of brothers find themselves struggling to move on.

saturn's rings (don't be a heartbreaker) by iskendaris

Set after the seige of burial mounds, Yunmeng rebuilds as they hold the first Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Sometimes the night is a gift, a refuge for loneliness. "So stern, Sect Leader Jiang," Lan Xichen murmured, "So glacial... What will it take to melt that icy exterior? What can I say?"

"Nothing. There's nothing you can say or offer."

reciprocity by jukeboxhound

There’s a pause before Lan Xichen says, in a tone that’s a little more neutral, “I would like to paint on you.”

“…What?”

“Of course, if you say ‘yes’ but then change your mind at any point, for any reason, you need only say so and I will stop immediately,” he adds.

Well, silver lining: Jiang Cheng is feeling much more awake than he was a moment ago.

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities by oh_fudgecakes

Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.

As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.

Marginal Costs by ohwhatevrewhatevr

“You think you know what you want, Er-Ge,” A-Yao says. “But you should consider what you’re willing to give first,” he says wryly, taking Lan XiChen’s chess piece with slim, skilled fingers.

Lan XiChen looks up at A-Yao’s concentrated expression and the hint of contentment on his face that he is special enough to be allowed to see.

“It’s not just one decision, but the lead up to many more. One decision decides what else you’re going to have to pay, and each time you have to ask yourself, ignoring the sunk costs, if this time it’s worth it as well.”

When his sworn brother looks up at him with those clear, amber eyes, waiting, Lan XiChen feels the pull and gives in: he asks.

“Are you happy being in love?”

(First half is two sad sworn brothers talking, internally mourning how unfortunate their other sworn brother’s death was :/ and second half is when a mopey boy in blue meets an angsty boy in purple whilst chasing a demonic cultivator, and a lil bit of sexy dual cultivation happens.)

Somewhat Tender by theherocomplex

There is no defense against kindness; it has always undone him.

I didn't expect you to be lonely (too) by bettydice (BettyKnight)

Jiang Cheng's life is a mess, he's a mess, and he doesn't miss his brother at all. So when his sister gifts him ten sessions with a massage therapist, who turns out to be someone he was crushing on for a hot minute as a teenager and is still as hot as ever... yeah, that might as well happen. It won't have to mean anything.

This feels intimate to Jiang Cheng in a way that's probably very inappropriate and maybe even pathetic. Nobody touches him like this, right where he’s hurt the most. There's no one who handles him so gently, so carefully.

It's the gentleness that's his undoing, he thinks. He would be able to deal better with it if it was painful.

Life for Rent by yodasyoyo

“Yeah well. You’re not taking me seriously. This guy is my soulmate!”

“Soulmate.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Just because you don’t believe in them—”

“I believe in them!” Jiang Cheng says. “I’ve never denied they exist.”

“Just last week you said that it was an evolutionary quirk that had been used by greetings card companies, movie makers, and corporations to exploit lonely and vulnerable people.”

“And I stand by it! That doesn’t mean that soulmates aren’t real. Just incredibly unlikely and probably pointless.

-

Or:

Xicheng vs Soulmates. Fight!

Halfway Around the World by theherocomplex

Normally, Jiang Cheng would be seething, jaw clenched tight, if someone sounded like that while they were talking, but — Lan Xichen has the trick of always making you feel like you're in on the joke, whatever the joke is. That you're laughing together.

Whelmed by yodasyoyo

For months now Jiang Cheng’s been idly fantasizing about how it would be if something were to come between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Mostly those daydreams have been simple enough — they break up (probably because Lan Zhan is boring or Wei Ying is annoying), Wei Ying is sad for a couple of days (Jiang Cheng’s willing to allow some space for feelings, he isn't a total monster), but then Wei Ying realizes he’s better off, he gets over it, and Jiang Cheng gets his brother back.

Unfortunately the fantasy version of events has only proven partially true, so far. They've broken up. Wei Ying has been sad.

Now weeks have passed, though — and Wei Ying is still sad, every. Single. Day.

It’s like Jiang Cheng's stuck in a looping GIF, and it’s driving him insane.

Or:

Jiang Cheng plots, Lan Huan pines, and, unfortunately for Lan Qiren, Wangxian are inevitable.

[20dollarlolita]

What's the cheapest machine that could be used to make iron on patches with more than one color? Is there anything specific needed for that or would most machines be able to?

Some machines are going to be better than others for this. My store is kind of interesting in that we just flat out do not sell any budget embroidery machines. Our cheapest one is that $1500 one. While I have approximate knowledge of many sewing machines, the only ones I have serious knowledge of are the ones in my line.

So I can't say models specifically, but I can tell you what I suggest when people say that they're making patches.

The first thing isn't actually punch power, though that is what most people assume would be the first concern. The first concern is how well the machine can adapt between thick and thing embroidery materials in the same project.

I'm not going to use model names because I don't want this blog coming up in google results for these machines, so we'll call them the 35, 40, and 50 since those are the numbers in their names and that should let you find them without me pinging google. For reference, I have the 50 but would definitely own a much cheaper machine if I didn't get it through a heavy discount applied for being part of the team. The next up from the 50, which is the 85, is eleven thousand dollars, so we're going to call that out of the price range for reasons that should be obvious to any 5-year-old who just got their first copy of Monopoly Jr.

Anyway, the 40 and the 50 come default with a floating embroidery foot, which is good for most applications. The machine has a sensor in the foot that tells them machine how thick the fabric is, and it uses that to hold the foot just a few mm above the work. I use my floating foot for things when I need to switch back and forth between embroidery and sewing a lot, because the floating foot just goes onto the ankle like a regular foot, and the other embroidery foot that we'll discuss later involves taking the ankle all the way off.

But, there's a price. When the machine detects that the fabric is too thick, it will raise the foot up to accommodate that. This is a good feature and I like it. The problem is that it won't put the foot back down, because it can't sense the fabric getting thinner. It has to touch the fabric to know that it's too thick and if it's gone up to accommodate that it can't touch the fabric because it went up to not touch the fabric. The cross hatch fill that I did on those lace collars on t-shirts were annoying with the floating foot, because every time it went over the shoulder seam, it would raise the foot. The foot needs to be on or very near the fabric to make a good stitch, so I kept having to stop and restart the machine to tell it to put its damn foot back down.

Patches are thick, and if you're making them standalone and not embroidering them directly onto the fabric, they have a big gap in thickness between the edge of the patch and the edge of the stabilizer in the hoop, so the machine really needs to have a setting where the foot touches the fabric every time the needle it down.

Conveniently, while "the foot must touch the fabric when the needle is down" is an old problem that has been solved long before the computerization of machines, and that's the spring-action foot. This is a $45 addition to the 40 and 50, which is really quite cheap by my store's standards, and it really helps. This specific spring action foot also works with the same sensors in the machine ankle to make much more accurate adjustments for fabric depth.

The 35 doesn't have that sensor system, so it can't use the floating foot. Its spring action embroidery foot also doesn't sense fabric thickness, but it is a spring action embroidery foot, which is the basics of what we need here.

So, spring action embroidery foot that can easily move between thick and thin materials is thing #1 I'd look for in making patches.

The second thing also relates to making patches, and that's punch power. You can basically assume that any patch you make has to have most of the following layers: stabilizer to hoop the design, iron-on web to stick it onto something, fabric for the backing of the patch, pattern fill stitches for the colors, satin stitching for the outlines, and the large satin stitch around the outside. That's some layers. The difficulty your machine might have for sewing through this can depend on what you're making these layers out of. Heat n Bond ultra is WAY thicker than anyone expects it to be. That's why they say it's a no-sew bond. If your patches are backed in vinyl, that's going to be harder to go through than felt. If your design has a very dense pattern fill, that will add to the sandwich.

So yes, you will need a machine that has a motor to allow it to continuously go through this big bundle for several minutes. You'll find some home sewing machines that will say they go through 9 layers of denim, but when you sew the 9 layers, you hear a knocking sound. This is usually okay for sewing, because the amount of time you are sewing through that thickness is generally pretty small, and you're not sewing it continuously. Your embroidery machine doesn't take breaks like that. It's not sewing thick materials in small spurts. It's going to have to punch through that sandwich repeatedly for the entire duration that the patch is being assembled. As such, it does need a stronger motor than you'd need to sew a similar amount of fabric on a standard machine.

You can adapt to this to accommodate a mildly weaker motor. You can add the fusible glue as the last thing, make a point to decrease the density on your pattern fills, and so on, but if you're just doing patches then having a machine that won't let you design patches without filling very specific limitations doesn't seem like a wise choice.

So, does it have the horsepower to continuously go through thick layers of fabric for the length of time that it takes to stitch out a patch is going to be #2.

Then we get into some other things that are sort of optional but really matter when you are doing this.

How many patches can you fit in a hoop? If you're making patches to sell, it's really going to come out cheaper to get a machine that can fit 8-10 patches in a hoop instead of just one. You will spend less money on stabilizer, less money on thread, and a whole lot less labor to be able to stick eight patches in a hoop instead of doing eight separate hoopings.

On the other hand, some machines won't accept any hoop but their default. Some machines with a 5x7 hoop will not take a 4x4. If you're only doing one patch at a time, having to use enough stabilizer for a 7x14 hoop is just not a good deal for you. What kinds of accessories it's compatible with should be a consideration.

Is it a sewing/embroidery combo, and if it is, do you want/will you use it as a sewing machine? I use my embroidery machine as an embroidery machine and for fancy decorative stitching, and use a Singer from 1988 as my main sewing machine. Even if your embroidery machine will do straight stitching, you can't use it for sewing while it's embroidering a project. How much multitasking do you want to do? If the answer is "not a lot", then you can look at machines that don't do sewing. When you're at the very cheap end of the spectrum, an embroidery machine that doesn't sew usually works better than an embroidery and sewing combo. Once you get to the $1000 price point, however, an embroidery only and a embroidery combo generally have the same-ish quality level.

And on the flip side, how much storage do you have? If you only have enough space for one machine, you absolutely should have a sewing/embroidery combo, so that you don't need to keep track of and store two different machines. If you're looking for a combo machine, you should definitely take into account everything that the sewing machine does. Look into it and see if you'd buy it as a standalone sewing machine, or if it's missing features that you'd normally find critical.

Now, another thing to look at. There's sort of two kinds of embroidery machine people, who we're going to call Sil and Pla since that's a shortening of the two softwares that we sell. Which kind of embroidery you're interested in will impact what machine you want. Sil users usually take premade designs and combine them, often with text and frames and similar things, to create designs. Example:

Please not that I'm making these examples in like 45 seconds.

You can then stitch this out on a shirt, give it to your sister who loves dogs, and she can pretend that she likes it and wear it once for pictures that she takes in her own house and then puts it in a drawer and occasionally laughs about how weird it is to her friends.

I mean. Cherish it and appreciate it.

There's a lot of validity in this style of embroidery. For example, my friend borrowed my machine to make a butterfly montage with the lyrics to Born A Worm on it. She didn't digitize the butterflies or the font, but she made her friend something unique that definitely cannot be bought in a store.

If you're making stuff like this, you really want to look into what kind of designs are available and how much they cost. You would also need to look into what kind of licensing you need, since it's definitely fine to send a friend a pillow with profane song lyrics on it but it's probably not advised to sell that premade butterfly montage*.

_____ *I believe embroidery designs do NOT fall under the intended usage loophole. Intended uses allows you to sell a skirt made with a copyrighted fabric or made from a commercially made pattern, but doesn't allow you to reproduce and sell a design that you didn't have rights to reproduce for sale. I haven't fact checked this but I believe this is how it works based on the last time I fact checked this stuff.

Pla embroiders usually want tools that will allow them to make their own stuff from scratch, or to heavily modify existing designs. Usually, if you want to make patches, this is where you're looking at going.

Sil software gives you much less in terms of tools than what Pla does, and this is going to impact your sewing.

For example, if you already have a patch blank, a file of the Michigan state flag, and a file of Snom, and you want to put them together, you might really need a machine that will allow you to combine three designs on the machine itself, without opening the software. You will want a machine where things like color blocks are very clear and input and navigation are easy to understand.

You will also need a machine that's more powerful, because you cannot optimize your design. Your machine will stitch the patch blank, then the Michigan flag, then Snom, without concern for how the individual pieces overlap and lie. By the end you'll need a machine that can go through all the patch fabric and several layers of stitching.

Pla kind of digitizing needs a lot more control of things. I did the ship and the hands by placing a bunch of vector point and then choosing which fill stitches I wanted. The clock rim was a circle that I could pick a specific repeating motif on the outside. I didn't digitize the numbers, and I made the software assemble them into that perfect circle (shh i know its off center). Sometimes the software will make things really easy (those lace collars are just a basic shape and then some pre-done fills and motif lines). A lot of these motif lines and fills are not available in ink/sitch (yet, it's growing every day) so things that are really easy to look cool in paid software are a bitch to make in free software, in this case.

If you're a Pla kind of person, you will already want the tools to design your own stuff, which means you should have the tools to optimize a design. You can combine stuff in your software, manually remove cuts and overlap, optimize stitch length, and all that. How well it will stitch out will be impacted by things you control. This means that you will need less control within the machine, because you don't really need those automated elements. Basically, the more complex (and usually expensive) your software is, the more it will let you control, and the less you need the machine to do for you.

If you're interested in Sil embroidery, and there's machines that come with access to or a subscription to a library of premade assets, check if they're assets that you're interested in using. If you are interested in them, look into machines with a good selection of premade designes. Only some of my store's machines are able to use the library for "free" (you technically subscribe to it but we bundle it with software and shit; we're really good at making you spend money but sound like it's a free thing) so that should be worth thinking about.

But if you're into Pla embroidery, you don't need to give a shit about any stupid library or premade things. You can buy a machine based solely on spring action foot, punch power, and hoop size, and then know that everything else is your responsibility to deal with. Downside, your success is going to be determined by your own skill alone. Upside, your success is going to be determined by your skill alone.

Honestly, for the kind of embroidery I do, the software is so much more important than what the machine can do. I don't need the machine to do anything really automatically (a functional jump-cut option is really nice) because I can spend like 45 extra minutes in the software to make it stitch out right. In fact, I spend that extra time making sure that things stitch out right, despite having a fancy machine that will do it for me. I just want that level of control.

So, the short version of what I'm going to say is that, if you want to get into taking your own art and using an embroidery machine to turn it into patches, the first thing you should do is find a software that lets you make designs you want. Then, when you've got that squared away, get a machine with whatever was left in your budget. Don't get a machine that you can't talk to or that can't stitch out the things you want to make.

That was a ton of words and not really a good answer there, wasn't it?