#wooden bangles

[blitzjewelrydesign]

Brown....Like the Ground

Those were the words uttered to me by my husband.  It was in response to me asking what shade of Brown did the groom pick for an upcoming wedding he had been drafted to be in.  I remember the look on his face when he said, “Brown…..like the ground brown.”   Needless to say, he was not a fan, but it was a Fall wedding.   And he did end up looking fantastic in it.  But he has not worn that suit…

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ a hundred assorted prompts

¹⁾ raspberry lip gloss

²⁾ pajama bottoms

³⁾ a silver lighter

⁴⁾ fresh honey

⁵⁾ flushed cheeks

⁶⁾ a fogged-up mirror

⁷⁾ the imprint of a belt buckle on skin

⁸⁾ helium balloons

⁹⁾ a broken cocktail glass

¹⁰⁾ old playing cards

¹¹⁾ chipped green nail polish

¹²⁾ a brown leather wallet

¹³⁾ bullet holes in a wooden wall

¹⁴⁾ seashells lined up along the curve of a spine

¹⁵⁾ beaded curtains

¹⁶⁾ pomegranate seeds

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys

¹⁸⁾ fresh-cut orchids in a pottery vase

¹⁹⁾ vending machine cigarettes

²⁰⁾ an out of date map

²¹⁾ a creaky wooden gate

²²⁾ a minifridge stocked with budweiser and paracetamol

²³⁾ snapdragons growing between pavement slabs

²⁴⁾ smudged yellow eyeshadow

²⁵⁾ slept-in braids

²⁶⁾ library books that’ll never be returned

²⁷⁾ a pink-tiled shower

²⁸⁾ a honeybee on a linen shirtsleeve

²⁹⁾ burnt popcorn

³⁰⁾ watching an eclipse from bed

³¹⁾ a black lace bralette

³²⁾ a tattered patchwork quilt

³³⁾ blue raspberry bubblegum

³⁴⁾ a rusted fishing rod and a dried-up lake

³⁶⁾ the taste of whiskey on someone else’s lips

³⁷⁾ rose-scented candles burned down to the wick

³⁸⁾ crescent-shaped coffee stains on a wooden tabletop 

³⁹⁾ odd socks 

⁴⁰⁾ a loose thread on a jumper sleeve

⁴¹⁾ warm sheets on cold skin

⁴²⁾ amber-tinged perfume

⁴³⁾ gold jewelry 

⁴⁴⁾  a calloused palm against a soft cheek 

⁴⁵⁾ a busted headlight

⁴⁶⁾ sunrise from a jail cell

⁴⁷⁾ hand tattoos that weave around fingers

⁴⁸⁾ coconut shampoo

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night

⁵⁰⁾ ladybugs crawling across a headstone

⁵¹⁾ grass stains on blue jeans

⁵²⁾ a loaded saddlebag

⁵³⁾ a dusty wine cellar

⁵⁴⁾ a bikini top draped over a bedpost

⁵⁵⁾ snow in july

⁵⁶⁾ dirt-red mountaintops

⁵⁷⁾ goosebumps in a heatwave

⁵⁸⁾ an empty dinnertable

⁵⁹⁾ a fresh manicure and bruised knuckles

⁶⁰⁾ zombie movies

⁶¹⁾ bitten lips

⁶²⁾ dark eyes full of tears

⁶³⁾ a soft cast in summertime

⁶⁴⁾ stale coffee in paper cups

⁶⁵⁾ frozen peaches on a black eye

⁶⁶⁾ acrid smoke

⁶⁷⁾ bound hands

⁶⁸⁾ animal tracks

⁶⁹⁾ unwound vhs tapes

⁷⁰⁾ cartoon plasters

⁷¹⁾ lipstick marks on shirt collars

⁷²⁾ silver bangles

⁷³⁾ sharing a coat in a downpour

⁷⁴⁾ fields with grass at waist-height

⁷⁵⁾ daisy chains up to your forearm

⁷⁶⁾ rolled-up shirtsleeves

⁷⁷⁾ the smell of bleach in a dark room

⁷⁸⁾ a shared sleeping bag

⁷⁹⁾ a new haircut

⁸⁰⁾ swimsuit tanlines

⁸¹⁾ perfume clinging to a pillow

⁸²⁾ lollipops dangling between lips

⁸³⁾ a badly-timed grin

⁸⁴⁾ old books

⁸⁵⁾ tongues stained from slushies

⁸⁶⁾ waking up in a hailstorm

⁸⁷⁾ dying sunflowers

⁸⁸⁾ colourful sunglasses

⁸⁹⁾ the last pew

⁹⁰⁾ tall, rattling windows in a storm

⁹¹⁾ six missed calls

⁹²⁾ sticks of incense burned down to the last

⁹³⁾ bunk beds

⁹⁴⁾ matching sets

⁹⁵⁾ ruined mascara

⁹⁶⁾ a boxing ring

⁹⁷⁾ stained glass windows

⁹⁸⁾ fairy forts

⁹⁹⁾ a cluttered bedside table

¹⁰⁰⁾ a hangover in the evening

[stariikis]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

synopsis ; going off my older fic engraving on my wrist , jungwon is late for a 'date', but you don't suspect the underlying reason behind his tardiness.

pairing ; idol!jungwon x trainee!reader genre ; fluff, situationship, getting together, oneshot wc ; 834

You’re not very sure why Jungwon would ask you out to a nearby café just to be thirty minutes late and leave you waiting. But you trust the process. 

Is it too late to cancel the ‘date’, and go back to the company? You’re growing incredibly sick of the countless camera flashes directed your way. Of teenage girls, fluorescent bangle bracelets adorning their wrists and idol photocards clasped to their school-bags, coming up and asking for your signature. Is Jungwon late or is he not coming? 

Your frantic messages go unread even when you check your phone for the millionth time. It’s not very ideal in the situation, but your mind starts to go into a frenzy. What if something happened to Jungwon? What if it’s my fault, what if I did something wrong? But I can’t have, can I, if I’m just sitting here waiting for a date? 

A date. You almost laugh out loud. What are you even thinking? He still hasn’t asked you out and here you are, foolishly believing it’s a date. 

Date, date, date… it’s all Jungwon’s fans can think about. Because of their influence, it’s all you can think about too. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty when the thought of Jungwon taking you out crosses your mind, though. It’s like you’re desperate, or something. The beginning of a scowl prods at your lips – at fourteen, you vowed never to be the desperate one, after comforting your best friend through a difficult break-up. 

Sneaking a glance down at his initials on your wrist, you start to contemplate getting up and going for dance practice with your trainee friends instead. Oh, the scolding you’ll give Jungwon when he finally answers your texts… he’s going to wish he never even said hello to you, that first day when you showed up to the company, freshly fifteen. What kind of stupid reason for being tardy will he give this time, you wonder? 

Just as you’ve given up on waiting for him and started to get ready to leave, thunder rumbles loudly outside. Whipping your head around to check the only window in the quaint café, your heart sinks. Raindrops strike the clouded glass, each one a representation of the shards of panic stabbing you. 

How are you going to leave now? You’re never going to listen to the morning radio’s weather forecasts anymore. Next time, you’ll be guaranteed to bring a damn umbrella around. This day isn’t going very well for you, is it? 

While you’re sulking, slumped over your table-for-two hopelessly, you don’t notice Jungwon bursting through the door and coming up to you. He is completely drenched from head to toe, brown cotton trench coat not doing much to block out the rain. A small puddle of wetness forms on your shirt as he taps your shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when you turn your head in confusion. “The line at the bakery was super long.” 

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he hands you a huge plastic bag with assorted breads. A couple beads of rain drip down the sides. 

“I’m really craving bread,” you whine, flopping down onto the wooden ground during one of your breaks. Jungwon pulls the beanie off his head and sits down beside you with a tiny grunt. 

“Bread? That’s a really weird craving,” he teases you, craning his neck to seek agreement from Sunoo and Riki, who’ve joined you that day for dance practice. They simultaneously glare daggers at Jungwon as if saying they don’t want to get involved, and so Jungwon turns his attention back to you. “What kind of bread, though?” 

Is what he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t just taunted you for wanting to eat it. 

“The one with strawberry paste inside. I haven’t tried it myself, but I heard it’s super go-” 

“IT REALLY IS SUPER GOOD!” Sunoo slides over and interrupts, truly the foodie of his group. “You should try the blueberry paste one too! And the new one where they put raspberry bits into the dough…” 

You snap out of the memory and unwrap the plastic bag, checking what’s inside. Sunoo’s list of recommendations are all inside, and some extras that Jungwon knows are your favourites. It’s so out of the blue and sweet of him that it makes you laugh. 

“This is why you’re late, isn’t it?” You mutter, feigning annoyance. 

He looks down at his shoes, looking ashamed. “Maybe. Sorry if they’re soggy. I didn’t have an umbrella because I believed the stupid weather forecast this morning.” And he looks utterly dejected about it.

How cute. 

“It’s okay,” you pull him into a gentle hug, patting his back soothingly. “It’s the thought that counts.” 

Take that, delusionalists in the crowd here. Jungwon is mine! 

“But…” Jungwon moves his head closer to your ear, and you get the eerie feeling something is coming. You’re proved correct as he hesitates, then whispers lowly, “but now how am I going to properly ask you out?” 

thanks for reading! if there are any other tropes or members you want me to write about you can send in an ask or comment here~ i'm very bored so i'll write pretty much anything sfw

[blueiscoool]

Detectorist Unearths Bronze Age Hoard After Getting Lost on Treasure Hunt

John Belgrove, 60, uncovered rare sword, axe head and bangle in Dorset after becoming separated from group

An amateur detectorist has described how he unearthed a bronze age hoard, including a rare sword, after getting lost during a treasure hunters’ rally.

John Belgrove, 60, became separated from the main group of detectorists and headed to higher ground to try to spot them when he made what he has called the find of a lifetime.

His device activated as he walked along and when he dug down he uncovered a rapier sword dating back to the middle bronze age.

The 61cm (2ft) rapier had been deliberately broken into three pieces and placed in the ground.

Unusually, the hilt, though cast in bronze, was shaped to mimic a wooden handle. Only two similar rapiers have been found in Britain before and they were incomplete.

As well as the rapier, a palstave axe head and a decorative arm bangle were found, presumably buried as an offering.

Dorset Museum and Art Gallery raised £17,000 to buy the objects, with the proceeds shared between Belgrave and the landowner.

Belgrove, a retired pensions consultant from Purley, Surrey, made his find in the village of Stalbridge, near Sherborne, Dorset, in 2020.

He paid £20 to go on the rally on private farmland but became separated from the group.

Belgrove said: “There was a group of between 40-50 detectorists there and they had searched the land before but they were excited because some new land had been opened up for the rally.

“I tagged along and didn’t know anyone there. Somehow I got left behind and lost and so I walked to high ground in a field and that is when I got a strong signal for this find of a lifetime.

“It was clear there was metal there but I thought it would just be an old can or something. I dug about eight inches down and found an odd-shaped object that was caked in clay.

“I didn’t know what it was at the time but it turned out to be a solid hilt of a sword, an exceptional item.”

He then found the two broken sections of the blade along with the axe head and the bangle.

Belgrove said: “I knew when I saw the axe head that it was a bronze age hoard. My head was in a spin. The blade of the sword was still sharp. The view of the British Museum is that it was deliberately broken and deposited in the ground as part of a ritual burial and offering.”

Elizabeth Selby, director of collections at Dorset Museum, said: “This hoard is incredibly special. The rapier sword is really unusual because of the cast bronze handle. The bracelet decoration was quite unusual as well.

“There aren’t really any comparable objects like the rapier, so to be able to acquire these items is really important for us.

“Finds like this tell us about how people were travelling, meeting and exchanging ideas with others on the continent in the centuries before the Roman invasion.

“There was a farming community there and these people generated enough wealth to be able to barter for or exchange objects that others had made.”

By Steven Morris.

[tropicalszns]

hii i just saw your recent post asking for requests.

i was thinking about one where nanami’s your therapist and you’ve been going through a difficult time recently, maybe with like work or family stuff, and you feel he’s the only one you feel calm by and end up catching feelings and he definitely likes you too, and then at some point when she has a breakdown in a session and it all blurts out and then sfw or nsfw from there lmao. maybe he feels guilty about reciprocating or smth bc it’s not professional. ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ type shi.

love your work btw and your page is so pretty xx

THERAPY SESSIONS !

⋆˚⟡˖° 𐙚 nanami kento x black!fem!reader

about

you end up falling in love with your therapist, nanami, but he loves u too

content contains

NSFW ! ꒱ angsty-fluff, finger-fucking, crying, mention of death (brief), consent checks, cowgirl position, backshotsss, nanami just being such a sweetheart i love him

word count

4,427

a/n

THANK YOU SM!! it rlly brings a smile to my face when people love my work bc it motivates me to keep making more content!! this one is saur interesting, i hope this is good type shi

Your leg bounced against the wooden floor. Your heart thumping with anxiety, your skin freezing with goosebumps. The air around you felt cold and dry, the water filter two seats away from you could be heard buzzing softly. The coffee table in the middle was filled with magazines, talking about subjects about celebrities and how to stay consistent with your routines or something of that nature. But alas, none of them was in your interest.

You pressed your back against the plastic black chair, placing your arms on the cold, metal armrest. Your breath hitched, looking around the dull room. This was hour first time going through with therapy. Of course, it wasn’t your first time— but it technically was. You were either too scared or never enjoyed the therapist you were talking to. They would be too inconsiderate, too busy, or you just didn’t like them.

You were snapped out of your thoughts, only to be heard by your first and last name. Your ears perked up, “Yes?” You felt a pairs of eyes watching you as you rose up from your seat, it felt triggering. You saw a lady with a slicked back bun, thin-rimmed glasses and a mole by her bottom lip. She smiled at you so sweetly, her shirt having the logo of the company on her right chest, and her pants having a slick leather texture. Her arms having dainty, small gold bracelets and bangles.

“Mr. Nanami is ready for you,” she announced. “follow me.” You nodded, following her down the hallways. Each step felt nerve-wracking, the hallways felt like they were creeping in, and the air continued to feel colder and drier. It was like your mind was spinning, you couldn’t control your unsteady breathing.

“Here we are.” She interrupted your thoughts with the open door of your therapist’s counseling office. It was a white painted room, plants specifically placed around, a large dark-ish blue couch with white and ivory pillows. A thin gold table, two books placed on top of each other. A small fake plant in a wooden circular vase. Across from it sat a man with slicked back and neatly parted blonde hair, a chiseled jawline, with some fitting thin eyebrows and small eyes. He wore a necktie with a dotted pattern, blue dress shirt underneath his tan blazer with matching slacks and light brown shoes.

You blinked at him, slowly stepping into the room. It was a contrasting temperature from what the waiting room was. The door closed behind you which made you jolt. You glanced around the room, fiddling with your fingers. “Good afternoon,” the man spoke, his voice deep and thrilling. “you can have a seat on the couch.” His hand stretched out the dark blue couch.

You nodded, making your way to the couch and sitting down. “Hello,” he smiled. You looked around the room, moving back against the couch. “Hi.” You waved, returning the smile sheepishly. “how are you feeling, today?” He asked, adjusting clipboard on his lap. He took a pen from his chest pocket and clicked it. The clicking of the pen made you uneasy, letting out a sigh.

“I’m feeling fine, I guess.” You shrugged. Nanami could tell that you were feeling uncomfortable and uneasy, he wrote down your initial reaction upon entrance and hummed. “So, I see that you’re feeling a bit nervous? Is this your first time going to therapy?” He assumed, watching you subconsciously bite on your bottom lip and fiddle around with your fingers. “No.” You shook your head.

“I’ve went to therapy before, it’s just they never worked out for me. I didn’t like my therapist, so I just stopped for a few months because I.. I was just scared to try it again.” You explained. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, they were so mesmerizing, so.. relaxing? “So you came here because you wanted a rebuttal at it?” He interrupted. You nodded, watching him write down the words you’ve just said. “Well, I am glad you’re giving therapy a shot. My name is Dr. Kento Nanami, but feel free to address me however you’d prefer.” He chuckled dryly, trying to lighten up the mood. “Let’s start off with some questions, shall we? I want to get to know you.” He said warmly.

“To begin, what do you expect from our therapy sessions? For example, you expect to experience this, or you expect to feel this after a session.” Nanami spoke in a soft and polite manner, making you feel at ease. “Uhm, I expect to feel better, I guess?” Your breathing came out roughly, your hands rubbing on your knees. “Better? How so?” He questioned

“Better as in, I expect to feel more aware of my feelings and learn how to control them. I have a rough time with doing that because I tend to let my emotions get the best of me.” You spilled out your thoughts for a moment, not intending to. “Hm, interesting.” He marked down in the clipboard. “Well, what do you mean by letting your emotions get the best of you? Can I get an example.” He tilted his head ever so slightly. He was so interested in you, as he is with his other clients but you were different, he didn’t know how. The warm and comforting smile never leaving his face as he watches you speak. You were slowly getting more comfortable in the environment, which is a great sight to see from Nanami.

“Well, I was having an argument with my mom this one time and it got pretty heated. I wasn’t that mad at her but in the moment things got so intense so I just yelled at her and accidentally smashed her vase.” Your eyes filled with guilt, looking down at your hands on your knees. “It was a vase that my grandmother, her mom, gave her to her. Unfortunately she isn’t here anymore.. and it won’t be the same if I buy a new one.” Your vision began to cloud up, you swiftly wiped your tears before they fell. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Nanami’s smile dropped, his heart aching for you.

Nanami passed you the tissue box, you shook your head. “I’m fine.” You reassured, but both of you knew that you weren’t. “She got mad at me for about a couple months, we don’t really talk like that anymore. I just feel really bad about it. When I let my emotions get the best of me, I tend to do things out of my character, then that’s when I mess up.” You frowned, your heart thumping with anxiety as you continue to confess.

“I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost relationships with people I love all because I couldn’t control my emotions. I sit in my room and think if I’m just a bad person and I’m trying to change but I feel so alone and weak.” You finally let the tears run down your cheeks, wiping them with the wrist of your hand. “Sorry.” You apologized, you sniffed away some snot that probably wasn’t gonna run down your nose. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I actually applaud you for telling me this, you’re taking baby steps which is a great step in the right direction.” He comforted. Nanami watched you nod at yourself but you still didn’t look proud. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, I don’t like that type of wording. You seem like a wonderful woman to be around.” Nanami’s smiled appeared once more.

“Thanks.” You felt your lips quiver into a smile for a second. You’ve been told this by many people before, but it honestly never felt genuine. Somehow and someway hearing it from him, from Kento, made you feel more confident on the inside. He seemed genuine. “I like that smile, y’know.” He saw a sparkle in your eyes he wanted to see more often. You shyly looked away. “Um, can I lay down?” You asked. Nanami nodded, “Of course. Do whatever makes you comfortable. This is a safe space.” He reminded. You lied down on the couch, pressing your back against the pillows and moving the others to rest your legs on the armrest carefully.

“Let’s move on, shall we?”

It’s been a good half a year after that first session. Each week you came back to see Nanami, and each session made you feel more and more comfortable in talking to him about your issues with work, school and just life. You couldn’t help but feel stomach churns when you’re near him. Recently you’d just gotten his number so you can talk to him after-hours about things.. professional of course.

You’d wake up early, already to see a text awaiting for you. “Good morning, hope your day turns out great! Can’t wait to see you for our session, much love, Nanami.” Much love. Much love. You felt like you were going crazy about this man. It was cutting into your work life. Every second, you would check your phone to see if he would text you knowing well he was at work, with other clients. The thought of seeing him talking to people besides you made you itch in your skin.

Your boss had told you multiple times to get off your phone when you’re on the clock, but you couldn’t help it. You know his break time, the time he starts work and the time it ends. It was getting to be an unhealthy obsession. You came home after a long day at work, plopping onto your bed. Your hands crossed over your chest, staring into the ceiling fan that was circulating around. “Do I like him?” You wondered. No, you shouldn’t. He was strictly your therapist, what a weird power dynamic. But he would always reach out to you after sessions, he even told you that you’re the only client he gave his number to! For fucks sake, he called you a client! Your hands reached your face, you began groaning loudly at your dilemma. You definitely like him.

But there was no way you could tell him that, everything would get awkward and you hated it. You didn’t want to switch to another therapist because you just so happened to like your current one. But you can’t leave Nanami alone. You want to be with him, you want him to call you a beautiful girl, a wonderful girl, you wanted his praise. It was like the only thing that mattered to you. You loved how genuine he was, he told you no lies and you loved that most about him. Nanami was perfect, so well kept, so professional, he had a PhD in psychology! He was so smart! There you are working an office job, never getting time to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with your life.

You knew this feeling was probably gonna wash away after a week or two. You were wrong, after each session the attraction and desire for him got stronger. The way he smiled at you was so captivating. His hair so neat, his golden watch glistening, his skin so soft and perfect. It could make a grown man cry from how beautiful he was. You knew deep in your heart, you had a deep desire and love for Kento Nanami, you couldn’t hide it anymore.

During one of your sessions, you began talking to him how overwhelming the workload and frustration. You were lied down on the couch, tears streaming down your cheeks. “My boss just expects so much more from me now, and I know I have been slacking but he’s giving me extra work to seem like if I don’t do it he has a reason to fire me.” You vented, squeezing a stress ball that he gave you. “Breathe..” Nanami reminded.

You took a deep breath, turning your head away. “Why have you been slacking, you’ve been telling me that work has been going well, suddenly you’ve been getting distracted? Can we talk about that?” He carefully asked, you were in such an emotional state he wanted to pick his words wisely. Nanami watched you chew your bottom lip, your fat tears streaming down your face onto your neck. He took a moment of silence for you.

“You’re gonna be weirded out, I can’t.” You shook your head. Nanami only smiled, “What? Impossible. I could never be weirded out by you.” Usually his words would reassure you, but this time it didn’t. No amount of comforting or soothing he can do could make you feel less guilty. You wanted this feeling to go away but you can’t, you wanted— no, you needed him. “Talk to me, I promise nothing you say or do will make me feel weirded out like you’re saying.” He continued to speak, his concern started to peak.

“Nanami,” you turned your head to him, you began to subconsciously squeeze the stress ball harder. “I.. you know how we’ve been texting a lot after sessions, and I’ve been trying to see what times you text me back, what you’re trying to text me..” Nanami chuckled, “You think I’m gonna be weirded out because you like to text back at my—” “Nanami, I think I’m inlove you.” The room went silent, no words could be spoken in that moment. Nanami’s breath hitched, it was like an eye-opener. There was no deny that he definitely had feelings for you as well, but he couldn’t say that, not in here.

“Are you..” he hummed, looking down at his clipboard. “Okay, well. Let’s..-” “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, can we just switch topics, please?” You interrupted, Nanami nodded. “As you wish..” he said lowly, guilt filling your eyes even more. It pained him to see you in that state, but it pained you even more to think you’ve went days thinking about him and practically losing your mind.

Later that night, you were curled in your bed, blankets over you as you closed your curtains and blocked any type of light. Your phone suddenly buzzed, turning over and picking your phone from the night stand. Your eyes squinted, it was a text from Nanami. “Hello, I know you were pretty upset about our session today, I’m sorry for unsatisfactory communication between us. I’d like to know if I can come over and talk things with you. I’d hate to see you upset. With everything going on, you don’t have to reply. Sweet dreams, Nanami.” You quickly replied back, telling him that he can come over and briskly gave him your address.

You got out of bed and rubbed your eyes, you took off your bonnet and tossed it somewhere, opening your curtains and trying your best to make everything look in tip-top shape. You got a text from him saying that he was outside, you sprinted and opened the door. You wiped your eyes, taking deep breathes before opening the door slowly. A small smile appeared on your face. “Nanami…” you said lowly. He smiled back, waving. “Hey listen, I’m sorry I acted so weird during our session today, I just so overwhelmed and.. I’m just really sorry, so much.. going on.” You allowed him in, and he only shook his head.

“It’s alright, I can understand. I’m sorry for such a short notice, I just wanted to talk to you.” He calmly spoke. You observed that he was still in his uniform but he had no blazer. His body so well-built and damn, he was tall. “Yeah, totally.. uhm,” you nodded, trying to maintain your cool as you glanced around. “Uh, would you like any water? Tea?” You offered, but he only kindly shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t plan to stay long.” You felt your mouth get dry, gulping down your saliva. “Alright, well.. we can sit on the couch, my room is a bit messy.” You chuckled sheepishly.

You both made it to the couch and you sat down next to him. You watched Nanami sit down, a soft groan escaped his lips, he pushed his hair back to return it back to its slick and neat appearance. “Nanami.. before you talk I just wanted to apologize for telling you I’m in love with you. I shouldn’t have said that, at all. I put you in such an uncomfortable position and I didn’t even consider thinking if you were married or taken by someone.” You took a saddening moment to breathe. “It’s alright. ‘Cause I’m in love with you too.” You felt your body freeze, you raised a brow.

You began to laugh awkwardly, “Joking, right?” Nanami wasn’t smiling, he didn’t look like he had a joke planned for you. “Are you serious? I- I don’t know what to say.” Your heart began to pump faster than you can think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he reassured, he got closer to you, placing a hand on your thigh. “Can I.. kiss you?” He asked. Without any hesitation you nodded your head, “Yes!— I- I mean, yeah, of course.” Nanami lightly chuckled, he put his hand on your cheek, a thumb grazing your bottom lip. He admired your soft lips, he moved his thumb and pressed his lips on yours. You’ve been waiting for this moment, for months.

“Nanami..” you tried to speak, “Hush, please.” He silenced you. “I want you to enjoy this, I want you to relax.” He hummed. He pulled you on his lap, continuing to kiss you. You put your hands on his shoulders, the kiss becoming intense. “So beautiful,” he whispered, sliding his hand up your shirt, caressing your back. His lips kissing into your neck, hearing your sweet moans. He swore he could feel his slacks get tighter from him getting so hard from this.

Nanami slid your shirt off, revealing your glowy and supple skin. He couldn’t help but stare. You still in your pants with only a bra on now, you were such a sight for sore eyes. “Tell me when things get too fast. Alright, dear?” The cute pet name made you shudder, “Mhm.” You hummed. “I love you.” He looked at you, watching tears swell up. He knew this wasn’t professional, hell he shouldn’t even have been at your place. But, he couldn’t help himself. He’s gotten so close to you it’s like he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. He loves you and he doesn’t think his job will even get in the way.

He knew this was wrong, his mind fogged with questions on how he got to this point with a mere client. He didn’t know why he was saying “I love you” to a client. He didn’t know why he wanted you. He didn’t know why he wanted to hold you, kiss you, be by your side. He didn’t understand himself, but all he knew was that he wanted more. “I love you too, Ken.” You spoke back. He pressed his face against your shoulder.

Sucking and kissing on your neck. Leaving a light purple mark that definitely will be able to show. He was so obsessed with your body. It was so soft, so sweet and rich. He had used his free hand and tried adjusting himself in his slacks. “Shit.” He cursed underneath his breath. “I need you..” he muttered. “Can I fuck you, please?” You were so taken aback by his politeness even though you were already half naked. “Nanami, you’re already stripping me.” You prompted. “I know, my love, it’s just.. I need to make sure you’re okay with this.” Nanami felt nervous and he usually wasn’t anxious about anything. The thought of him pumping his dick so roughly in your pussy made his dick twitch from his pants. He wanted this, so why was he scared?

“I am, I’m fine.” You assured. Nanami took a breath before sliding off your pants off, now you were in just your bra and underwear. He felt his heart racing as he slid your underwear down, he could see how damp the fabric was. He bit his bottom lip, moving his thick middle finger inside of your tight, wet pussy. You immediately clenched, gasping and slapping a hand over your mouth. “No— fuck.. are you okay?” He asked, his finger being trapped inside you. “Yes.. it’s just, your finger is just.. Give me a minute.” He nodded, letting you to adjust to his big finger. While he waited for the green light, he took your hand off your mouth. “I wanna hear you, your noises.. they are nice to listen.” Nanami expressed which made you flustered.

He instead held your hand, using his finger to pump you in and out. “Does that feel good?” He whispered, your back arching as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Ah- fuck..” you moaned. You gripped his hand tighter, trying to keep your composure. “F-feels so good..” you managed to spill out, your hips subconsciously bucking up as his finger slid deep inside you. The sounds of your juices gushing along his finger. He was knuckle-deep inside you, watching you break down over just one finger.

He thought that you were ready then slid his middle finger out. Before you could speak, he put in both his middle and ring finger. You clenched tightly around his fingers, your clit throbbing with sensation. “Oh- fuck! Kento..” you whined out. “Is it too much for you, sweetheart?” He asked. You simply shook your head, “No, I can take it..” you tried to say smoothly but your back arched, letting out a deep moan. “I’d hope so.” He muttered. You felt Nanami thrust his fingers into you deeper, you were on the brink of losing it all.

His thumb grazing over your clit and gently rubbing it. You dug your nails into the knuckles of his hands. Your other hand gripping his shoulders with your face curling up in pleasure. “Are you about to cum for me?” Nanami spoke. His deep voice sending thrilling chills through your body, “Mhm..” with your hum he pulled his fingers out of you.

“W-what? Why’d you do that?” You whined, the fullness that lingered left you. “Not yet, I want to put it inside..” he unbuckled his belt and zipped down his slacks, sliding his boxers along with it. You glanced down at his dick, gasping in shock. He raised a brow, “Is there something wrong?” He asked. You shook your head, “No- it’s- I’m sorry, I was just shocked I guess.” Nanami felt a twinge of embarrassment.

“I’m gonna put it in, alright?” He placed both hands on your hips. You cringed from the wet fingers attached onto you. One hand gliding his pink, fat tip that was wet with pre-cum along your wet pussy. He let out a throaty groan as he shoved his dick inside, his face scrunching up with desire. He heard your sweet moans leave your mouth, giving him no time to adjust before clenching around him. “Please, y- you’re gonna make me cum, don’t clench like that.” He grunted, “M’sorry, I can’t help it..” You apologized, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Jus’ take it,” he looked up at you, his hands easing to your waist. Nanami was too focused on wanting you to cum all over him, he didn’t ask if he could move. He began to thrust in and out of your sloppy pussy.

“N- Nanami, fuck, s’good.” Your words began to slur, your lips connecting to his to distract you from the increasingly rough and deep strokes. He kissed you back, moving his tongue in your mouth and swirling your tongues around. “Feels good, sweetheart?” He whispered against your lips. Your ass slapped against his thighs, your wetness smothering over his shaft and balls. You hummed, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Mhm, yeah.. s’deep.” Your moans couldn’t be stopped, your jaw dropping leaving your mouth wide open.

Your fingers rose up to his undercut, biting your lip as Nanami squeezes your ass. His thrust began to falter, the way your moans were clear in his ears made his dick twitch. Nanami grunted, it was getting hard and harder for him to concentrate. He meant to pull out but he was so drunk off your pussy it slipped his mind.

He slipped out of you and panted. He laid you on the couch on all fours, even though you could barely stand up on your own. Without any thought, he shoved his dick back inside you, groaning with pleasure as his hand grip your ass, fucking you roughly on your couch. “K- Kento, slow… slower please.” But Nanami didn’t listen, he unclasped your bra, pushing the straps off your shoulders. “Sweetheart, your pussy,” he moaned, his lips your ear as he played with your nipples. His chest against your back as he went faster and harder. “I love it so much, f- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quick.”

You subconsciously clenched around him, your nails digging into the armrest. You felt your eyes roll back into your head, your ass slapping against his waist, your boobs jiggling each thrust. “Ken.. M’gunna cum..” you warned, but he didn’t care. “Cum, sweetheart. Please, I need it so much.” Nanami swore he going crazy, his dick twitching as he kissed on your shoulder- the exact same spot he left the hickey. You took a hand and rubbed your throbbing and aching clit, putting your head down as you moaned. Nanami hid his face in the crook of your neck, pumping himself roughly into you, trying to make you cum. The euphoric feeling washed over you, soaking Nanami’s dick with your sweet juices. “Kennnn..” you whine. Nanami felt you shake underneath him, he was restricting himself so much he couldn’t help it anymore. He pushed your head down, firmly gripping your hair.

“Shh, please, take it, I’m almost there..” your muffled moans filled the couch, your legs tensing up as you soon felt a warm sensation in your stomach. The sounds of Nanami’s cum gushing into your womb made you whine. It filled you up so much, curling your toes in pleasure. Even after a minute he was still going, so much cum filling you, you were bound to get pregnant.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t..” he panted, taking his hand off your hair and wrapping his hands around your waist. He still was deep inside you, not daring to move a singular muscles. He planted soft kisses on your neck.

“I love you, even if it’s wrong..”

made by, tropicalszns, please do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth: quiet midnights, gleaming steel, faint incense smoke, the scrape of a whetstone, books lined perfectly on a bookshelf, cold rain against bare skin, polished black leather, bitter ginger tea at dawn, weighted blankets in winter, sharp ice crystals, scratched classical CDs, weathered angel statues with missing wings, sharpened pencils in neat rows, morning fog over empty streets, delicate frost patterns on windowpanes, steel-gray skies before snow, silent films in empty theaters, cat footprints on documents, mathematical equations, unopened mail, clean sword oil, abandoned chess pieces, mint tea leaves.

Genesis: spilled red wine on white papers, chipped maroon nail polish on piano keys, gold bangles clinking against wine glasses, vintage vinyl at dusk, steaming mulled cider with cinnamon sticks, smudged eyeliner after theater rehearsals, leather-bound books with gilded edges, dark chocolate with sea salt breaking under his teeth, dog-eared poetry collections, playing cards scattered across silk sheets, cherry candy staining his tongue red, cologne bottles on antique vanities, melted red candle wax on love letters, fresh ink bleeding through parchment, caramelized apple pie, packed jazz bars at 2am, velvet curtains, stage makeup, worn dance shoes, red leather gloves, theater tickets.

Angeal: petrichor on summer mornings, fresh ground coffee beans, sunrise training sessions, polaroid cameras with worn straps, mismatched lucky keychains, pencil sketches in margins, old photos in cracked leather wallets, soup simmering on stovetops, buzzing radio stations between cities, dappled sunlight through garden leaves, evening cicada songs, autumn leaves crushed underfoot, soft worn flannel shirts, pressed flowers, acoustic guitars, wrinkled maps with coffee stains, soil under fingernails, homemade bread, herb gardens, worn pottery, recipe books, wooden spoons, patched jeans, morning dew, pocket knives.

AGS: loud laughter, discarded pizza boxes, arguments dissolving into jokes, snorted milk, tangled legs under a blanket, whispers in a packed room, empty mugs littered around a table, quiet yawns, bitten apples, ring tones, a half-finished puzzle scattered across the floor, a messy kitchen, heads on each other's shoulders, rock-paper-scissors, scattered dice, sour candy, bumping elbows, the glow of a tv screen, borrowed hoodies, stolen phone chargers, dirty dishes, arms around shoulders, inside jokes.

[15-lizards]

okay. here me out here, hannah. wooden jewelry in the northern houses. old fallen branches of weirwood trees being passed down through families. simple wooden bangles to elaborate rings to show status.

also wood has a way lower heat capacity and doesn't get as cold as metal jewelry. so!! practicality. also the rustic aesthetic of it all. wood is a lot more flimsy if a material so they'd be in higher demand and could show off how graceful young ladies are bc they don't bang them around on stuff and break them lmao (rip to all of the wooden bangles i've lost bc i accidentally hit them against a table or something i'm so sorry rip bangles)

i think sansa (or even jeyne poole) would rock some wooden bangles bc she still wants to be fashionable and draped in jewelry in the north but ned thinks it looks silly and is so practical so he gifts her a bunch of wooden ones. i'd like to know what you think about this idea :) 💕

Yup yup yup

Mothers pass down their weirwood hair combs to their daughters. Girls who are marrying outside of the north don’t have a complete wedding trousseau until they have a pendant made of the wood of godswood tree from their home. Sansa and Jeyne beg the woodworkers to make them matching hair clips and trade their wooden bangles as tokens of friendship :)

[enbyenvy666]

So for my next request, can you write a oneshot featuring Mirio and a male reader with harem boys, chastity and hypnosis please? In the fic, Mirio goes to an Aladdin themed spa for a part time job. There he meets the reader manager who grants him his harem uniform, plus chastity cage, and explains the types of jobs he'll be doing. But what Mirio doesn't realize is that the reader is using hypnosis on him to make him want to stay at the spa. What do you think?

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

hope you enjoy :)

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, dubcon, hypnosis, chastity cage, hair pulling, oral (r!receiving), reader has a hypnosis quirk, harem, sex work, dom reader, sub mirio, no beta we die like men

w/c - 1k

Mirio found himself hesitating as he stood before the dark wooden door. While the air of the spa was heated, his bare chest still felt cold, his lower half barely covered by a loin cloth. The metal jewellery around his neck and wrists felt like nothing compared to the cold metal of the cage encasing his cock. He wasn’t sure how he managed to fit inside the small device, but he did. 

Eventually, he steeled his nerves enough, taking a deep breath to calm the anxiety swirling in his stomach. Knocking on the door, a call for him to enter quickly replied. With a smile to hide his nerves, he entered the room. The smell of incense flooded his senses, the room a little hazy from the smoke. Other men were in the room wearing the same uniform as Mirio, and he found himself wondering if they were also made to wear a cock cage.

Lounging on a plush chaise lounge in nothing but a silk robe, you smiled when you saw Mirio enter. You noticed his nerves, even as he tried to hide it, in the way his muscular shoulders tensed and how his eyes flickered around everyone in the room. Standing from the velvety chair, you met Mirio halfway into the room, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. 

“Don’t be nervous, darling.”

Your voice sounded like honey, and it would’ve calmed him if he hadn’t noticed the eyes of every other man in the room, some with jealous expressions. Realising it did nothing to calm him, you reached for his hand, fingers running over the cold bangles on his wrist. Pulling him over to the day bed, some of the men reluctantly moved out of the way so he could sit with you. He had to resist the urge to apologise to them, ever the people pleaser. You brought his attention back to you by cupping his cheeks once more and leaning in close. He gasped softly, but that was perfect as you breathed out, making him inhale the intoxicating air. 

His muscles relaxed, his nerves tingling and his brain turning mush. He leaned into your touch and the men around you chuckled as they watched the newbie turn to mush in your hands. You hummed happily, letting go of his face to hold his hands instead. 

“What’s your name, darling?”

“Mirio Togata,” he replied, eyes watching your lips, in search of whatever made him feel so good.

“And what did the manager tell you?”

“To do whatever you want.”

“Will you do that, Mirio?” The blonde hesitated again, his mind running wild with what ‘whatever’ could be. You leaned in close again, breathing out again as you asked, 

“Will you be good for me?”

It was at this moment that he realised there wasn’t any incense in the room, the sweet smell and the haze were from your hypnotising exhales. But as he breathed it in again, he didn’t care anymore. As the calming waves washed over him, he thought about how good he wanted to be for you. The thought sent a pulse to his cock which ached painfully in its cage. He winced before he could respond to you, shifting uncomfortably. You pouted sympathetically and lifted his loin cloth to eye the cage. 

“If you’ll be my good boy, I’ll take it off for you,” you offered, stroking over the metal device. He couldn’t feel your touch but he wished he did, he prayed he could feel your soft hand around him. He nodded vigorously, trying his hardest not to grab you, touch you and feel you. But you felt how his hands shook, gripping his jaw and pulling him close. 

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t need any convincing, kissing you like a man starved. Your saliva was more intoxicating than your breath, and goosebumps rose across his skin. He lost his self-control when your fingers weaved through his blonde locks, gently tugging on them. He pushed you back until your back met the raised backrest of the lounge, hands tugging on the tie of your robe. You didn’t have to tell him what you wanted, with every kiss he knew exactly how to make you happy. 

Pushing the silk robe aside revealed your hard cock, standing tall and proud. He was quick to wrap his hand around it, making you hiss through your teeth. Mirio shuffled back on the lounge until he was face to face with your length, gazing at your reddened tip. 

“He’s an eager one, isn’t he?”

Your teasing question was met by chuckles from around the room which turned to coos as you moaned from Mirio’s tongue gliding up your cock from base to tip. As he took you in his mouth, he watched the hands of the others caress your bare body. One of the men began to kiss you, and an almost jealousy swelled in the pit of Mirio’s stomach. Determined to make you focus on only him, he hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head. He felt some satisfaction when you pulled on his hair, hips thrusting up into his wet mouth, cock hitting the back of his throat. One hand massaged your sack, the other reaching down between his legs, hoping to alleviate the painful ache. 

If he made you feel good, you’ll take it off. If he makes you cum, you’ll take it off. He told himself over and over, motivating him almost as much as when you would curse from pleasure above him. Swirling his tongue over your tip had you roughly tugging on his hair, but taking you down to the base had you moaning and groaning, more of that hypnotising breath leaving your lungs. Your hips stuttered, twisting his blonde hair in your fist as your orgasm came to its peak. Roughly shoving his head down until his nose met your pelvis, your cum rocketed down his throat, to which he hungrily swallowed. 

Sitting up, beady blue eyes glaring impatiently down at you, waiting for you to unlock his cage and give him the relief he prayed for. Instead, you smirked at him, slowly stroking your flaccid cock, slick with his saliva until it began to inflate again. 

“Do it again, won’t you?”

For a second, Mirio felt an almost sense of betrayal and confusion, until you leaned in close and sighed deeply.

“Won’t you, Mirio?”

[owlfashioned]

I haven't written in ages, please enjoy.

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook/Antivan Crow/Spellsword

SFW/Fluff/I don't have an AO3 account yet weeee

~Tea Time~

There was something magical about strange herbs in hot water. Not the herbs the Crows used to dull the minds of their victims, no, but the ones that Rook would smell wafting from the kettle over the fire in the Lighthouse. The real fire, not the blue-green veilfire that caused the dark stone to always look like light filtering through shallow pools.

The plants inside each concoction would change, depending on the mood of the creator. From light and fruity when a battle had gone well to the smell of campfire and smoke when something particularly disturbing had revealed itself. As time passed, Rook knew exactly how the tea’s creator had felt with each simmering pot. 

She didn’t know why she was so drawn to him. She was an assassin, a Crow, a spellsword, a murderer. He’d probably soothed spirits trapped in the bodies of some of her victims, helping them rest after she had brutally struck them down in the dark. But here she was, and there he was, all elaborate robes and bangles and kind eyes while she stared at his back all sharp features, sharp blades, and an even sharper tongue. 

She watched him now, digging through jars of multi-colored plants that he’d stored in a makeshift larder near the hearth, mumbling to himself while he handed them to his skeleton servant. Friend? They weren’t even labeled. She’d seen him on multiple occasions grab a handful of plants while they were on missions only to stuff them absently into an odd-shaped jar for later use. 

Manfred’s jaw opened slightly and he began to teeter as Emmrich handed him a tall jar filled with wicked looking seed pods. His head tilted towards Rook as if to ask for help but she had already stood up, inhumanly fast, to catch the falling jar of tea. 

“Ah, thank you Rook.” He didn’t even look over his shoulder. “Manfred just say something next time if you need help," he chuckled, knowing the animated creature of bones and cloth couldn't talk.

The skeleton looked as indignant as he could and clacked his jaw shut. She swore she shared a knowing look with him as to say “please help this old fool”, but it was probably just her imagination. Rook was so close to the necromancer she could smell the tea he was making in an intricate bronze kettle. It was different than any of the ones he’d made before, this time she smelled flowers. Roses? They smelled so familiar to her. 

“Emmrich what are you making this time? It smells delightful. It reminds me of Antiva for some reason.” She moved over to the circular wooden table in the center of the room and pushed over a few maps and battle plans, including some inappropriate drawings Bellara had made of Assan biting the heads off of demons. As she set the jars down she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck while he spoke slowly, deliberately, following the sound of tea pouring and cup against saucer. 

“Antivan coastal roses, elfroot, orange essence, a light, airy red tea that brews a deep purple if the water is hot enough.” 

There it was. That soft voice, that caring tone, and the feeling it caused in her chest that she fought to force down. 

“That’s ah, oddly specific. Is this because of what happened with the dragon? I thought death was something beautiful," she awkwardly shifted a few scrolls around the table. "Plus it was only a scratch.”

She’d been unconscious for three days and Taash had built her a coffin.

“Not when it’s someone you would much rather see amongst the living.”

The touch on her shoulder nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. She had no idea how that man walked so silently with so much ridiculous jewelry on. It had to be dark, twisted magic. 

She felt him reach around her with his other hand and hold the tea in front of her face. The cup was white and covered in deep green vines on a delicate plate, the tea a dark purple color steaming and smelling like roses and orange and sunshine on the coast. He didn’t move his hand and she was incredibly thankful he couldn’t see her face blush at his proximity behind her. 

“The elfroot is because I’ve still seen you limping,” he whispered, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She couldn’t move, he was too close to her and she could feel the heat radiating off him and the tea and her mind froze. She reached for the cup and took a sip, it was all she could do. 

It tasted more floral than she had expected, along with the brightness of the orange, but slightly sweet. He must have added honey to cover up the bitterness of the elfroot.

“I like it. Thank you Emmrich.”

She could have sworn he got closer to her before he took his hand away. 

“I think I’ll call it the Crow’s Cure,” his voice was soft again. Gentle, caring, and in the pit of her stomach she knew it was a voice he saved just for her.

“I’ll make it for you whenever you desire."

[pussydestroyer10110]

Jake Sully x Avatar!Reader x Neytiri

Chapter 8: Dragon Lady

Word count - 1.1k (not proofread)

Note: Sorry for the long hiatus! Exam season is finally over yippee and I kept seeing notifications of people liking the story so I kind of rushed this part out so sorry if I'm a bit rusty! Thank you all for sticking with me, love ya

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

The entrance to the woven hut was shielded by a curtain of wooden beads, each small ornament varying from the rest with their marred surface coated by earthy paint colours of auburn and deep greens giving away their hand crafted status. The gentle breeze caused the soft whistling of some hollowed branches crafted into a wind-chime hanging out the front with each wooden limb clashing into the next with a small yelp. These touches were easily missed by an ignorant eye but to you, it gave you hope - hope that possibly the dragon lady inside had a keen eye that appreciated finer details, someone that saw value in everything.

Neytiri stepped in before you, her four lingered hand pulling back the aforementioned beads revealing Moat sitting in the centre of her large home, cross-legged and eyes closed. Ancient words fell from her lips as she prayed to the Goddess, not acknowledging your presence but she knew you all were there.

Neytiri didn't dare interrupt her mother knowing she held her religious beliefs as one of her utmost priorities, she held the beads open for you as she stepped aside, allowing you and her mate to trail in behind her. Hesitantly, you creep your way into the hut and huddled yourself mere inches from Neytiri as Jake followed suit and stood casually beside you.

The air was filled with a respectful silence from you three as you allowed the elder woman to continue her chant undisturbed, giving you time for your eyes to flit across the interior of this sacred place.

The theme of greens, browns and oranges didn't go unnoticed, they were everywhere: in woven tapestries on the curved walls; more beaded strings coating almost every surface and then finally painted on chests and boxes filled with all her possessions.

These colours were occasionally broken by stark whites strewn strategically in tribal swirls and points or by the kaleidoscopic colours reflected on the walls from the midday sun shining through colourful glass ornaments, holding hues of a muddy purple, bright yellow and a beautiful blue that was akin to the planets seas. Some of the boxes held clay jars filled with aromatic herbs and crushed pastes, their ancient medicinal properties almost incomprehensible to you with your experience of the modern medicine from back home.

Moat gently swayed in time with her chants, rasing her bangled arms every now and then and moving them rhythmically around her like a second nature, it was enrapturing to watch. The air was light around her, the open back of her home allowing the sun to stream in around her, painting her silhouette at your feet as it beamed and she beamed along with it.

Soon the chants slowed to a natural stop and her cat-like like eyes snapped open to reveal the yellow eyes that darkened to an amber towards the pupil. Her eyes flitted up, honing in on the figure of her daughter, Jake Sully and most importantly - you.

“This is dreamwalker?”

She spoke in her mother tongue, her question more of a statement as she already had her answer the moment she laid eyes on you.

Still her daughter gave an obedient nod in response while Jake stood still beside you.

You keep your head tilted down as you fight the natural urge to evade her prying eyes but out of respect you allow your gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked at you, no hint of a smile on her lips, now you knew where Neytiri got it from.

In a swift motion she was standing, steadily approaching you as from around her neck she plucked a hooked tooth from a strange necklace, its tip menacingly sharp. Stopping a bit before you she suddenly reaches out, pricking your chest with the tooth with no warning causing you to instantly flinch back in shock, your hand cupping over the pinprick on your chest as you subconsciously give her an unimpressed stare causing Jake to discretely nudge you and Neytiri to swat you with her tail.

Moat seems unphased as she runs the tooth over her tongue, the droplet of your blood being wiped clean from it, her eyes still trained on you as she reinserts the tooth back in its sheath and tastes the irony tang of your blood. Soon enough you fix your face to a more neutral one with the small hints of a terrified smile.

She tuts slightly before speaking again again.

“What are you called?”

She asks in her thickly accented voice.

You swiftly answer with your name, first and last before she repeats it herself.

Jake and Neytiri have yet to speak a word to their mother and mother-in-law respectively and she doesn't acknowledge them.

“My daughter and her mate seem to think there is some potential in you, that you were a friend of Grace Augustine.”

She states as if daring you to speak.

“Do you agree?”

She then asks, looking at you with a tone of curiosity.

“Grace believed my purpose was here and slowly I've begun to believe that too, I know you and you're people owe nothing to me in fact I owe you much more but I know that if you give me a chance, if Eywa gives me a chance I can show my worth in some way.”

You reason, pleading your case.

Moat waits a moment before giving a single nod of her head, an action to which Neytiri seems to let out a sigh of relief with then for the first time since your arrival Moat turns her gaze towards Jake.

“Jake Sully, you believe she is like you?”

She asks as if challenging him.

“I do”

He answers simply, respectfully.

“Daughter?”

Moat then asks, turning to face Neytiri.

“Yes mother, I agree with Jake”

She says with a small nod of her own.

Moat nods then after a moment she looks between Jake and Neytiri before training her eyes back on you.

“Very well, my daughter and her mate will teach you our ways just as he was taught, you will learn our language, our hunting, our culture, I expect you to learn quickly”

She says, her hands clasped in front of her.

You nod quickly, bowing your head to her slightly in respect.

“Thank you Moat”

You say gratefully, your eyes now gleaming with an unbridled excitement.

With Moats approval you now had a gateway into the culture experienced by very few outsiders, you had a chance of a new life.

[happy-beeeps]

Day 6/7: Gifts and Stars

Summary: After educating Din on the holidays of your home system, you realize you forgot to get him a gift for one of the most important.

WC: 3.4k oops

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT NSFW MINORS DNI!!!!! Massage, fingering, handjob, p-in-v sex, reader is afab. Unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it! Soft smut!!!

A/N: okok so I've alreaady lost the plot but my goal is to get 8 AND 9 out tomorrow so I'm back on track. As an apology, please expect 3.5k words of gratituots Din smut and feelings.

18+ Only Below the Cut

Din had been incredibly receptive the first time you told him about the holidays of your home system. He had celebrated your family and home together during the festival of the hearth, had cooked local foods during the independence celebration. Now, it was time for your favorite holiday, and the one you were most anxious about.

Amordi wasn’t, like, entirely a holiday built around sex. It wasn’t not that but, like any good holiday, there was a fable behind it.

Of course, no one really knew the fable anymore but, there was a point—at some point.

What Amordi was now was an excuse to be in love, or to celebrate being in love. Little kids would pick each other flowers, or shower their parents in handmade gifts. Friends would spend the day together, gushing over one another with platonic love and declarations of a friendly devotion.

Couples… did a number of things.

The hip, young people were taking spice, claiming that the drug made them connect with their partners and made getting physical all the more sensational. Older couples spent the day holding hands, looking at holovids of their weddings, pampering each other with the kind of devotion only decades can bring.

You hadn’t really thought about you and Din—didn’t even tell him about it. How do you tell your partner, “Hey, there’s a holiday coming up, and it’s expected you’re going to give me a shit ton of gifts and also the fucking of a lifetime?” You just decided to avoid it altogether.

That is, until the early evening of Amordi, when Din placed a small, wooden box on the table in front of you, while you were busy trying to spoon feed an incredibly angry 50-year-old baby.

“Happy Amordi.” He said, sitting down beside you and tapping his thumb on your chin. “I hope you like it.”

You nearly dropped the spoon in shock. Fuckkriffdankferrik how had he found out? How had he known-

“I can use the holonet too, you know?” Was his response to what must have been a look of sheer terror, and he laughed at the blush that now painted your face.

“Figured you were too old for that.”

He placed a hand on his chest and rocked back in a gesture of fake wounding. “Just open the present.”

You did as you were told, opening the small wooden box to reveal a beautiful, thin bangle of shiny metal. Along the side was a carefully inscribed mudhorn surrounded by a collection of small stars, and the realization hit you.

“Din, this is beskar.”

“I know.”

“This must have cost you a fortune,”

“It didn’t, she owed me a favor.” He picked up the delicate bracelet, how it sent a flutter down your stomach to see how delicate things looked in his hands, and showed you how to open and close it; a small clasp on the side. “It would’ve been worth it anyways.”

The she was not lost on you, and the implications of the armorer standing over her forge, making you a bracelet? It was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Din, really, this is too much.”

“But look how well you wear our crest.”

It’s the softness in his voice when he says “our” that gets you, and you place a hand on the cheek of his helmet, kicking yourself for not shutting the windows already. “It’s beautiful, Din. I can’t thank you enough.”

An hour later, and you’re trying to find a way to thank him enough. You don’t have time to go into town, it’s at least a half hour each way on the speeder, and you are not an efficient shopper. His birthday isn’t for a few months, so you haven’t gotten his gift yet. In fact, the two of you decided to forgo Life Day gifts, choosing instead to deck out Grogu’s nursery with all the bits and bobs he could ever need. Now, as Din settles the baby to sleep in the other room, you’re panicking.

Your closet is a nightmare, and you don’t even know how you acquired so much shit. Like, truly, there is so much shit in here. And none of it is helpful. At the very bottom of a pile of your things, you find a small, black wrapped package you remember picking up the one time Din took you on to a quarry on Canto Bight. An idea pops into your head. It’s a little tacky, and admittedly a cop out, but you’ll make it up to him tomorrow with a nice breakfast and something from town. For now, this will have to do.

When Din walks into the room, you’re smitten by the way the soft candlelight reflects off of his armor. You’re perched on the edge of the bed in a short, satin robe, a deep blue with shimmering stars sprayed across it. Next to you is a bottle of oil, something fancy he had gotten you on Naboo once, and you gesture to your bed. “It’s time for your gift.”

If you could see his eyebrows, you know they’d be cocked. One hand falls to his hip as the other lifts his helmet off his head, freeing his face to you at last. His expression is skeptical, but he’s grinning. “Are you the gift?”

“Please,” you scoff, motioning him to sit down and guiding him by the shoulders. The house Karga had gifted you was the perfect size for your family but, you and Din being the selfless parents you were, had chosen the smaller room. There was something so domestic about his form, large and demanding, in the small space, made even smaller by the fact that you refused to compromise on the size of the bed. “I’m giving you a massage.”

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but he does move to help you with all the buckles and clasps of his armor. Soon enough, he’s clad in just his underlayers, and you’re quick to help him out of his shirt, exposing his tanned, scarred skin to you.

“Stop oogling me,” he says, but there’s no venom in his words. Instead, his barb lands exactly where it should, and you gently push him backwards onto your bed, and poke at his hips.

“Move, flip over.”

“This is so romantic,” he says, deadpan, “I love when you prod me like a bluurg.” He listens, of course, and moves to lay tummy down on the bed.

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, and you hoist yourself up and perch yourself on the squishy part of his ass. You reach off too the side (earning a grunt from Din) and drip some of the oil onto your hands, rubbing them together to warm it up. Once you feel it’s been adequately warmed, you drag your hands from his lower back up to his shoulders and press. 

The groan Din lets out is genuinely orgasmic. You’re not sure he’s ever made a sound like that before, and to hear it at the result of your hands is… a little enticing. You work the tense muscles there, pushing your knuckles and the pads of your fingers into the knots so tense they feel like they’re made of duracrete.

“Kriff, what do you do all day, carry around bricks?”

“No, just you and the kid.” 

You send a poke to his side and his laugh rumbles through the mattress. You work him slowly, hands coming up his neck to rub at the tender spots you know his helmet digs. They drag down, along his lower back and the base of his underwear, rubbing the sore expanse of skin there. Din says little, save for “that feels good,” or “kriff, there’s a spot.” His voice is muffled into your bed, and you don’t miss the way he slowly melts like butter beneath your hands.

You figured when it was all said and done, you’d make out, fuck, and go to sleep. You know, like adults. It’s Din, it takes very little for you to want to jump his bones, and today wasn’t an exception. What you don’t expect is for the heat in your belly to grow with every tender press of your hand, or the way his groans sound deeper, more guttural with each push. You relish in the sweet joy of caring for a man who has made it his soul purpose to care for you, to protect you.

You often forget this is a man who has killed, killed for you before. You often forget how little you’ve grown to mind it.

You treat him so softly it makes your heart throb. Din deserves every good thing in this world, every buttery breakfast pastry from the cafe that just opened in town to the freshest pot of caf in the morning. You’re almost at the brink of moving beyond turned on and into pure, uncorrupted adoration when Din groans and unexpectedly pushes backwards against you, causing you to fall off of his back and onto the other side of the bed.

He sits up, then moves off the bed, standing at its foot. You simply stare up at him, his tall form, completely armorless in front of you, heart fluttering at the way his eyes rake the rest of your body.

He reaches to grab you, his hands fitting under the crooks of your arms and hoists you towards him, pulling you up off the bed and standing in front of him. His fingers fall to the soft silk of your robe, and drip down to the thin tie, dangling limply in front of your now aching core.

“Wanna give you another gift.”

“Din, I’ve hardly even given you a gift.”

“You’ve given me plenty, cyar’ika.”

His hand is tugging at the tie in an instant, and the traitorous bow falls loose almost immediately. You stand before him in the rest of the set, the lacy little thing you’d bought when you were waiting around for him in Canto Bight. It matches the robe, and his eyes water at the sight.

“The stars match my bracelet.” Is all you can offer him, feeling suddenly so exposed and so incredibly turned on. You need him now, and need him bad, more than you think you’ve needed him since the day you two got married.

“Sweet–I can’t even say the things I want to say to you now when you act so sweet.” His voice is flustered, deep. His eyes are darkened with lust and he snakes one hand around your waist, the other playing with a piece of hair that dangles dangerously close to your breast. “Want to do so much for you, mesh’la. Want to make the rest of your life so easy.”

“I don’t need easy, I just need you.” You whisper, and the sound he makes in response sends a shockwave to your core.

He’s on you in an instant, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss equal parts passionate and longing, like he’s been waiting to devour you for a lifetime. You can taste the wine you shared at dinner on his breath, and it shoots a spark in your brain. You will love this man for the rest of time and even then you’d find a way to come back to him.

His lips move to your neck as his arms guide you softly to the bed, your back flush with the mattress. It’s warm from where he was laying earlier, and he moves his body on top of yours, caging you in. You’re completely surrounded by Din–his scent, his body. You’re completely in bliss.

He kisses you further, dropping his lips from your neck, to your collarbone, to the soft curve of your breast, his hand snaking underneath you to shimmy your bra open. He breaks for a moment when he does to give you a moment to shimmy the garment off, and runs a hand through his hair.

“I will never get enough of you.” He says, thumb rubbing a soft circle against your peaked nipple. He launches back down to you a moment later, his tongue replacing his hand. He sucks at the tender flesh of your breast, nipping at the soft bud, and his hands begin to snake down your hips, hooking under your panties and you shimmy a bit so he can pull them clean off. One hand presses your hip firmly into the mattress, while the other makes soft, circular motions along your inner thigh. You try to buck into his touch but his hand presses harder, and you can feel him laugh against your breast.

“Din, please,” you beg, and he breaks away for a moment, his hand sending a soft, teasing touch against your slit. When he finds it nearly completely soaked, he groans, his head burying itself in your neck. 

“You are so good to me, so soft and perfect.”

He sucks at your neck then moves back to kiss you, a finger moving to make slow languid circles against your clit.

The sensation makes you cry out into his mouth, and he quickens his pace just slightly before pushing a digit inside of you. The sensation of being filled at all has you near begging him to do something, anything, for how bad you need him. 

“Din, please, need you,”

“I haven’t given you your gift yet,” is all he says when he breaks your kiss, smirking at you slightly. Din is quiet, never too chatty, and you’re always surprised by the sudden bold streak he gets in bed. 

He slips another finger in and hooks justright, and quickens his pace along your clit, his movements eager. He knows how to work your body, knows each spot to press, each motion to do. It’s one of the blissful things about him, how easily the two of you can read each other.

It also means he can read that the coil in your belly has tightened rather dramatically, and you’re just about to snap.

“Come on baby, let me feel you,” he murmurs as presses at just the right spot on your clit, hooks just the right spot inside that you swear only he can reach. You’re cumming around his fingers near instantly, your orgasm sending tingles down your spine, through your fingers. 

Instead of breaking away and immediately moving to remove his pants, as you’d hoped, he shifts down, moving himself so his face is right in front of your core, pressing slow, sloppy kisses to your thigh.

No, no no. You wanted to treat him this was supposed to be his gift. You’re already one orgasm in the whole, and you won’t last long with his mouth on you.

“No, Din, wait,” you start, and he backs up immediately.

“What’s wrong, do you want to stop?”

“Yes, but it’s because I need you in my mouth,” you start, moving towards him as he backs up onto his knees, and you push the waistband of both his pants and boxers down. You see the slight panic in his eyes calm at this, and he helps you remove his clothes, but he pauses when you reach for his cock, throbbing and already leaking precum.

“But what if I need you on my mouth?” He replies, and you groan, trying again to reach for him. He’s soclose and looks so good from here, you can’t resist him. 

“Din, seriously, this is your gift,”

“I feel like we’re past that, let me,”

“How about,” you pause, finally catching him and begin slowly pumping his cock in your hand. You can see him fight the groan that threatens to come out of his mouth, “We call it even and you just fuck me?”

He takes no time in considering your offer, replying with a short “deal.” Before picking you up and flipping you on your stomach.

Oh fuck, you’re in for it, you’ve taunted him and now you’re in for it. You had him facedown on this bed earlier, you should’ve know he’d be waiting for it. One of his calloused hands moves itself under your hips and brings you up, and you can feel his tip pressing against your soaked entrance as you rise.

“Are you ready for me, gorgeous girl?” He murmurs, taking a moment to press a kiss between your shoulder blades and bring your hair out from your face.

It’s cute, it’s romantic, but you need to be fucked immediately. You try and respond in a way that seems sultry, but you swear it comes out more like a yelp when you respond, “Fuck yes oh my gods.”

He pushes into you slowly, cursing the entire way. You try to fight the moan that comes on but you relent as he pushes deeper, his length once again finding every single spot inside you that threatens to have you undone after one push.

He starts his strokes slowly, hands grabbing tenderly at the flesh of your ass. He feels so good like this, pressed against you fully to the hilt, and you quite literally cannot even fathom the concept of ever feeling this good ever again, even though you know each time is better than the last.

He begins to quicken his thrusts, moving at a fast, hard speed that has you being pushed forward into the mattress with every motion. His grip on your ass tightens, and you relish in the small pinpricks of pain and the knowledge that you know there’ll be a bruise there tomorrow.

You’re getting wetter by the second, and one of his hands moves itself downwards to make a sloppy, but phenomenal, move to your clit.

“You’re, so good to me.” You pant out in response, and he groans. You can see his head dipped back over your shoulder, his adams apple bobbing.

“You’re so good to me. Wanna marry you over and over again, too perfect, too good.”

His words have that all too familiar rush of pleasure start to surge through you, and you gasp as his thrusts become deeper, harder. He starts back up again. “Won’t ever leave, can’t ever leave. There’s nowhere in this galaxy I’d rather be than right here, love you, love you so much.”

Those words enough, mixed with his quickening and brutal pace, having you clamping down on his cock, cumming harder than you think you ever have. Din’s romantic, passionate, and dare you say emotional. That being said, you can count on maybe two hands the amount of times he’s ever said the words “I love you.” A few more in mando’a, but the words “I love you,” have struggled to be said. You’ve never not felt them, he says it in ways so specific to him, but the raw emotion in his voice, the way it cracks a bit at the words “so much,” has you cumming hard.

He responds immediately, and you feel him quicken and then falter, as he cums deep inside you. There’s a moment, a breath, where the two of you bask in one another, in the heat of the moment, before he pulls away and out of you.

You’re happy to flop down onto the bed, and a look over your shoulder shows you Din in the tiny fresher attached to the bedroom, running a towel under the warm water of the sink and returning to run it along your folds. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade before tossing the towel in the laundry and climbing in bed, moving to sit on top of you.

“You’re gonna suffocate me,” you grumble, trapped beneath his weight.

“Are you calling me heavy?”

“Yes.”

He laughs, uninhibitedly, and you wonder what he’s doing before you smell the familiar, floral aroma of your body oil, and feel his hands rub along your back. You happily melt into him, mumbling, “this was a pretty good gift, right?”

He says nothing, but runs a ticklish touch across your ribs, so you know he agrees. You lay there, happy to be molded by him, and bask in the warm silence of the room. After a moment, he speaks up, quietly but assuredly.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

Your breath catches from his words and the well timed push on your ribs, but you do your best to shift beneath him, and catch a glimpse of his brown eyes, illuminated in the warm candle light.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid PREVIEW

As I promised, a preview excerpt of my Charpim fanfic which will drop May 20th! (^o^) Also after reading the fic, PLEASE give me your feedback in the replies/reblogs, Thank you! 💗💛

Charlie couldn’t sleep on nights like this when the moon was big and bright, something about it made him want to stand outside by the ocean, drink from his flask and play his ocarina. As he played his beloved instrument he fondly recalled a childhood memory of his own when he was about 6 or 7, wearing a cape and an old hat Mr. Boss wore while armed with a little wooden sword, gallivanting around the beach while loudly-and-proudly proclaiming he was King of the Pirates. Little Charlie didn’t have much friends at that time but what he would do was based on one of Mr. Boss’ bedtime stories: writing mercritter runes in the sand and coming back later to see the response. Charlie did exactly that and eagerly waited for the response while distracting himself best he could fighting imaginary monsters and bad guys. Lo and behold Charlie always got a response, while in hindsight Charlie figured it could have been possible that someone, perhaps even Mr. Boss was playing along writing the responses in runes, he couldn’t shake off the magical sensation he got from the afternoon ritual. If it really was a mercritter responding to him this whole time he’d be over the moon.

......

Alan followed Glep and Pim back to the grotto and was astonished at all the "land things" Pim secretly acquired and hidden away for so long, how did he manage to hide it all for so long without Amy tattling on him for kicks? He hid behind a pair of slightly-cracked goggles and inspected upon the mischievous twosome. Pim was combing his hair with a "dinglehopper" as Glep played with a golden bangle, the latter noticed the bittersweet-sad expression on Pim's face and asked: "Yaskawaboyo? (You okay man)?" Alan wondered if Pim was starting to get homesick, (un)surprisingly that wasn't the exact reason why the usually excited mercritter was so somber despite freeing himself. "...Maybe he's right, what if there is something wrong with me?" said Pim, who then seconds after shook his head in disgust at his father's hatred of the surface getting to him. "I just don't see why a world that makes such wonderful things could be so bad?" Pim felt strong and long-bottled up emotions gushing out, he stimmed a little bit by twirling the dinglehopper but that wouldn't do. Whenever Pim had to share his feelings he would sing and dance it all way much to the annoyance of his siblings, but after a period of masking, Pim had to share exactly how he felt.

"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the boy...the boy who has everything?" Pim gasped in excitement and opened his arms wide while slowly spinning, "Look at this trove, treasures untold, how many wonders can one cavern hold?" quickly turning to Glep with his hands on his hips and sashay-ing with his hair swaying in the water, "Sure! He's got everythiiing~!" Pim swam around observing his collection with Glep following as he continued:

I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty...I've got whozits and whatzits galore~"

Opening up a mustache-care box, jokingly offering to Glep: "You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty!" The two shared a little laugh before Pim solemnly closed it. "But who cares? No big deal....." Looking upwards, those longing words sweetly slipped out of his lips: "I want moooooore~"

"I wanna be where the people are-" Pim gently held Glep's fins and twirled around, "I wanna see, wanna see them dancin'~ Walking around on those.... what do you call 'em? Oh!" He playfully teased Glep's fins as the guppy squeaked. "Feet!"

Alan thought to himself: "This is the most elaborate venting I ever witnessed."

"Flippin' your fins, you don't get too far Legs are required for jumping, dancing..." Pim swayed his hips emulating how one with legs can walk on ground: "Strolling along down a... what's that word again?"

Glep playfully answered: "Skeewaboyo (Street)!" Pim smiled and swam up dramatically above where the light was shining through the grotto: "Up where they waaaalk, up where they ruuuun...up where they stay all day in the suuuuun!! Wanderin' free, wish I could be.... Part of that wooooorld~" Continuing with his acrobatics, "What would I give? If I could liiiive out of these waaaaters? What would I pay to spend a daaaay-" He sunk down and rolled around with a big smile on his face imagining what would it be like, in his own words: "-warm oooon the saaaand?" He then turned on his stomach with a humorously pouty look, "Bet'cha on land they understand, bet they don't...reprimand their soooons~" Pim almost relucantly called himself one of King Pimling's daughters up until realizing he wasn't in Meeplantica anymore, he then smiled while gazing upwards, "Bright young men, sick of swimmin'..." He lifted himself up again with a more hopeful and triumphant demeanor: "Ready to staaaaaaand AAAAAAND-" Observing a gilded storybook with a childlike energy he flipped around the pretty illustrations, "Ready to know what the people know! Ask 'em my questions and get some answers!" He came across one such illustration depicting Prince Charming and Fair Maiden cozening up by the fireplace, holding it up and longingly placing his stubby pink fingers on the painted flame, "What's a fire and why does it...What's the word?" He closed the book and held it to his chest, holding his head back and belting out: "Buuuuurn!!" Pim let go of the book, spinning upwards once again and reaching out to the light: "When's it my tuuuurn? Wouldn't I looooove, love to explore that shore up aaaaaabooooooove?" His octave raised at that last word he sang out...then his whimsy melted into wistful melancholy, for there wasn't any way he could achieve his lifelong dream, so he sank back down with a heavy heart..."Out of the sea....wish I could be...." As Glep sadly witnessed Pim floating back down on the sandy ground, he couldn't help but look back up at the light one more time: "Part of that....woooooorld..."

[irlactualhuman]

Want a good staff base, or perhaps a few wooden bangles enhanced with the same magics?

Drift wood(most any kind that isnt rotten), Bodark, and Blackthorn. Hickory is a niche choice. The grain is straight. Solid for channeling, but not so good at maintaining magics. Oak is too flexible and soft, and Elm, a bit too shatter prone. Don't get me wrong, most woods will work alright, but don't expect the kind of longevity or efficiency you'd get from those first three choices.

Want an incredible blasting rod that requires little to no effort on your part?

Lightning shattered trees. That's it. Accept no substitute.

I will say (and this is a bit of a workaround) that one of the three woods I mentioned before will work similarly well if charged and consecrated in a lightning shattered tree. I bound the haft of mine in copper to make the transition from me to rod a bit smoother.

Remember!

Found is always better than sought. Let the gifts come to you and appreciate them when they arrive.

[jev-urisk]

🌐7 Circles: Entry

Preamble/chapter 0/intro page

(Tf do you call something like this? Help?)

🎉and its my 1st writing post!🎉

7 paragraphs, soft tw for heights. (Respectful) concrit welcome: Could you imagine the characters? Did this pique your interest? What do you think about the length?

💠 💠 💠

High above the earth and sailing down from the heavens is a ship, winding its way to the ground like a feather on the breeze. It looks much like the kind that would sail on water, albeit a rather small one, and the warm colours of its curved wooden keel gently contrast the azure and gold sails curved to fullness by the wind.

At its helm, upon a deck lit brightly by the sun overhead, four hands grasp the ship's wheel. Skin blue and bangles gold, the tall figure turns the ship, using the strength of all their limbs to move the sail against the wind current.

Their thigh-length mauve braid of hair whips about them and their eyes, entirely green from pupil to sclera, narrow against the wind. It didn't much matter where they landed, so long as it was within the un-poisoned area of the surface world, but The Kalilith people didn't have a winter on their isle in the sky and the explorer didn't much fancy finding out how well they would fare against the vast arctic region on the north end of the continent below.

The gilded sailboat creaks as it changes course and a second Kalilith comes up from the cabin below to join the first. He's taller and his four bare arms more muscular. His red eyes look to the person at the helm, his expression cross as he marches across the deck.

"By my south hand, child–The current is too strong for that!" he says, raising his voice against the gale as he speaks to his more delicate charge. "We should let the wind carry our descent, not turn against it!"

Magic vessel it may be, but the ability to ride the wind and the ability to withstand it were two different things. The male Kalilith barely reaches the wheel before a loud snap is heard and he turns to see rigging being ripped out of place.

"But our trajectory had us flying into a tundra! If we land only to die before making contact, the mission is forfeit!" The first one retorts, aristocratic accent sharp as they raise their voice. They may be the younger of the two, and they're certainly no warrior, but it was their mission nonetheless.

"Take care of the rigging.” they order, “If I can get us past the ice we'll be much better off," they catch the red gaze of their attendant who hisses in contempt before rushing to comply.

Far, far below, a citizen of chilly north Danaport squints up at the sky, gasping in disbelief as they see something fall to the earth.

💠 💠 💠

Tagging @scorpiothesaint @katenewmanwrites @officialauthorofanotherworld and @thelaughingstag bc I'm particularly excited to share with yall ✨️

[kscosplaycatalog]

No. 3 - 2008

Character: Yazoo Series: Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children by Square Enix

Cosplayer Credits: - Kadaj : Kat - Reno : Jaiden

Photo Credits: - ChibiPa's nope - FSC's TigerFist - Morataya Photography - Our friend, Chris - Our friend, Kirky

==========

I definitely can't wear this costume anymore. We actually made them in such a way that we didn't need to bind or anything for them because they sort of acted like a corset/binder all on their own. They were also so form-fitting up top that I couldn't lift my arms up beyond a certain point; I could barely touch my own face. And living in FL, we did almost die of heat stroke a few times taking pics outside... so yeah, don't do that! 😂

==========

We finished everything in time for MetroCon '08 except for the weapons which we completed at the end of October.

All of the leather material aspects are made of car leather which is a lot thicker than most other fabrics because it had, not only a leather top, but a cloth underside. We made the coat first, but used the wrong needles and broke about 4-6 of them. We made our own pattern from a form-fitting jacket we had and extended it to the appropriate length. Each piece of the side design was separately sewn into place on a piece of organza. Once it was a whole piece, we sewed the whole thing on the coat. We purchased the custom zippers from ZipperSource.com. The wrists were crafted with wooden bangles purchased at Michael's and hot glued into place. The boots were made from on-sale Keds and a cover. We made a pattern to get the leather to be form-fitting and hot glued the covers in place. We already had costume gloves and the pants were merely tights. We made the big shoulder armor pieces out of cardboard, polyfil and a bit of furniture foam. The little ones were just stuffed. We hand sewed the little ones to the big ones. The straps were also hand sewed to the armor and the snaps were stomped in place (literally). The wigs were purchased from eBay seller CosplayWig.

Kadaj's weapon was made out of Balsa wood and my father, a carpenter, crafted it. Kat finished it off by wrapping the hilt and adding the black and white ribbons. Yazoo's weapon was made out of spruce wood and bits of metal for the trigger, trigger guard, hammer, and site. I used a hot glue gun to make the designs.

==========

Cost: $185 Time: ~900 hrs

==========

This costume has won the following awards: - Best in Show @ ChibiPa in 2008 - Hall Costume Contest @ MizuCon in 2008 - Best Technical @ Infinite Bits in 2009

[aelinschild]

Al Dente

Main Masterlist | Other One-shots

Pasta making, how exciting!! Heavily inspired by my trip to Rome and the subsequent pasta making class.

SYNOPSIS: Scorned and ready to take advantage of the 'unlimited prosecco', Aelin attends a pasta making class alone, where she meets a very interesting man... WORDCOUNT: 2.5k WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, slight cheating? (Its on Chaol so who gaf, no nsfw tho)

Fuming, Aelin walked into her pasta-making class alone. 

She was supposed to be here with her boyfriend, Chaol, but he decided a night at the pub with his boys would be more fun. Which was typical behaviour from him, but she didn't expect it from him tonight. Especially when the calendar had a big red circle around today with bold letters spelling ‘PASTA CLASS!!!’

Whatever, she thought, might as well drink his share of prosecco. 

She had seen this class in an ad online and thought it would be such a cute date night idea. She had organised it on a night that they both had off, and gushed to Chaol about it. Enthused and exhilarated for a date after not going for months. Aelin was so excited, she even had a cute outfit planned; a navy maxi skirt that made her ass look great, and a beautiful flowing blouse that went to her elbows. Gold hoops adorned her ears and her gold bangles clinked at her wrists. 

She was looking stunning, and her stupid boyfriend wasn't even here to see. 

Instead of mourning that, she entered the door with labeling over top, indicating that this was where her class would be. The older wooden door creaked open, and two heads snapped up from where they were talking in the idle of what looked like a living room. 

A shorter man with dark hair and a red apron caught sight of her first, and a great joyous smile broke out on his face. “Ah! You must be Aelin!” He said, gesticulating with his hands and walking over to her. 

He stops before her, grabs onto her shoulders, and gives her a kiss on both cheeks, stunning Aelin momentarily. He leans back to appraise her, and she can see the confusion briefly whisking over his face before he quietly asks, “Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I thought there were going to be two of you?”

Aelin nods before saying, “Yes, my uh, my partner was not able to make it.” 

The man stares her dead in the eye, before a mischievous glint takes over. 

“OH kay,” He fully enunciates the word, “Well, I am Giorgio, and the prosecco is free and I do not judge.” He gives her a sly wink before grabbing her arm and pulling her over to the other man in the room.

This one was all man. Tall and broad, and he looked like he was in a bad mood. Not exactly the type Aelin would think she’d find at a pasta-making class. His eyes flicked over Aelin and Giorgio, but still didn't smile. 

Guys got a stick up his ass, Aelin joked to herself. Probably was ditched by his date.

“Rowan! This is the beautiful Aelin, she also doesn't have a date, it is like the gods wanted this!” Giorgio jokes, and both Aelin and this Rowan guy's faces jerk towards him. Giorgio looks exceptionally pleased with himself like he’s playing matchmaker. 

Aelin's arm, still in the crook of Giorgio’s, is dropped as she turns to face her to-be teacher for the night. 

“Uh, Giorgio, I don't think-”

“No, it's alright.” The tall stranger, Rowan, says. 

And suddenly he’s also looking at Aelin. Kill me now. And Giorgio’s making his escape towards the doors of the kitchen, looking awful pleased with himself as he goes, and leaving Aelin and Rowan in tense silence. 

He looks nice. Tawny slacks, that look like they were ironed beforehand, and a cotton white button-up. An expensive-looking silver watch is on his lift wrist. And she notices that he doesn't have any rings on. 

He breaks the silence first. “I’m-uh, I’m Rowan.” He reaches his hand out to Aelin, and she quickly rips her eyes away from her ogling to shake his hand. 

He has a strong grip, frim. But gentle too. 

“Aelin, lovely to meet you, Rowan.” And she steps back a little, smoothing her hands over her skirt, a nervous tic. 

He nods, his deep green eyes are something out of a story. It's a shade Aelin had never seen before, and his almost silver blond hair adds to his attractiveness. She can't help but wonder what a man like him is doing here. 

“So,” She starts. “You came here alone?” What a stupid question Aelin, oh my gods. This poor man.

“Yes.” He replies, lips thinning and expression dropping. Whoops.

“Me too, my-well my boyfriend decided to ignore the date night, you know?” She quickly added, then a blush rose to her cheeks. What a first impression. 

He nods, eyes traveling to her cheeks, then lips, back up to her eyes before responding. “My girlfriend just broke up with me before this.” He takes a casual sip of his prosecco. 

A little stunned at such a candid response, it takes Aelin a second before she responds. “Oh, I'm so sorry.” How do you respond to that?

“No worries, I figured I’d make the best of the evening regardless.” He supplied. And before Aelin had a chance to respond, a loud clatter came from the kitchen and then Giorgio’s muffled voice came afterward. “Let us start chefs! Come!”

“Ladies first,” Rowan gestured, letting Aelin walk ahead of him. She sends him a smile, and walks ahead, heading into the kitchen that already smells like coffee. I need that prosecco asap. Aelin thinks as she gets settled by the island in the middle of the room. 

Rowan comes to stand next to her, maybe half a metre away, and Giorgio hands them both a glass full of prosecco. Aelin and Rowan thank him, and the class begins. 

“OH kay, so we start with tiramisu, so that it settles while we make the pasta.” 

Aelin takes a sip of her drink, letting the bubbly drink wash down her throat and erase the sour taste in her mouth left from Chaol’s actions. While Giorgio instructs them both on how to break the lady fingers up to dip in the espresso, and then place in their respective cups, she thinks about Rowan. 

He’s very attractive, and now single. It is a little strange that so soon after a breakup that he wants to go out, but maybe that's his way of coping. After they've all placed the ladyfingers in, Giorgio passes out the premade mascarpone mixture to layer. They follow a pattern, espresso-soaked ladyfingers, and mascarpone. Rowan’s hands move deftly over the task. He has attractive hands. Large, and strong by the way he shook my hand earlier. 

Aelin snaps back into reality when Giogio hands her the cocoa powder to dust overtop their now complete tiramisu cups. She takes a large swig of her prosecco once that's over. It’s unlimited, might as well. 

Giorgio takes the tiramisu away and cleans up the counter a bit. In the meantime, Rowan turns towards her. 

“Do you cook often?” His green eyes latch onto her, and she can't help but like the way they appraise her more than Chaol’s. 

“I do, yes. My boyfriend isn't overly skilled in the kitchen so that’s mostly on me.” His eyes get a little harder when she says ‘boyfriend’, but she decides to not read too deep into that. “I thought this class would be a genius signal for him to maybe learn, especially considering pasta is my favourite…” Aelin rolls her eyes, there really is no point airing out her relationship troubles to the handsome man, but her tongue is already a little looser from the bubbly drink. 

Rowan makes a ‘hmm’ noise, and turns even more towards Aelin, if that was even possible. 

“Do you?” 

“I'm here, am I not,” He smirks. 

Aelin laughs. “Alright then.” 

Giorgio decides that's the perfect time to interrupt again, and he comes carrying three stainless steel bowls. He explains that they're filled with a 50/50 mix of semolina flour and regular flour, and Aelin ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at the right moments. Rowan just nods, looking entirely focused on the upcoming task. He shows them how to crack the eggs, then filter the egg whites through their fingers, since they only need the yolk. 

Both Rowan and Aelin perform the tasks efficiently, and light conversation fills the space. Giorgio, unbeknownst to them, is secretly proud of the way they are working together. 

The prosecco never runs out, and soon they are kneading the now-formed dough out. Giorgio explains that it now needs to rest, and in the meantime, they’ll work on the sauce. The group moves over to the stove where Giorgio sets up a pot for water, then a pan for their sauce. 

Rowan and Aelin observe him as he teaches, but Rowan sidles up a little closer to Aelin than before. She can feel the heat from his body next to hers. Peering around the curtain of her hair, she glances over at him, and he’s completely relaxed, smiling even. 

He’s pretty. 

Giorgio pours olive oil in, and lets that warm up before adding some garlic cloves in. Once those have settled, he pours the San Marzano tomatoes in and tells them that it'll simmer while they shape the pasta.

They all move back over to the island counter, and begin rolling out the respective dough balls. Giorgio leans over their shoulders to make sure they're doing it properly, before topping up both of their prosecco glasses. 

Aelin can't help but be happy at this moment. The conversation between her and Rowan flows freely. They are laughing and chatting about anything. The drinks aren't stopping and she feels bubbly. The dough gets thinner and thinner, and soon the pair put it through the pasta machine to make linguini. 

Once all the pasta has been cut properly, Giorgio offers them fresh glasses of prosecco, again, and ushers them to a separate dining room. Telling them he’ll bring the pasta when it is ready, and to ‘sit, get comfortable’. 

“I think he’s trying to get us drunk,” Aelin snorts out as she takes her place at the table. Rowan laughs in agreement. 

“Definitely. We have to have had at least two or three bottles now.” 

“Gods. Good thing it's free!” 

The conversation falls, and an awkward silence ensues. Aelin doesn't really have anything else to say. All the jokes from earlier were in the presence of Giorgio, who acted a little like a buffer between her and Rowan, the now single, very attractive man.

She takes a shot anyway, “So, do you think you'll try another cooking class?” 

 “Probably not, considering this one killed my relationship.” 

Good gods. 

“Oh, yeah-” Aelin scratches the back of her neck, not really sure where to go next with this one. When she looks up at Rowan, he’s smiling. 

“Sorry, that was a joke. Ill-timed, I guess.” He sighs.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” Aelin replies. 

He grimaces, now aware that maybe that wasn't the right place to go. But he tries again. “Do you think you’ll ever make pasta at home now? You were pretty talented with the dough in there.”

“I guess it depends on how this tastes.” She leans back in her chair, taking a sip of the bubbly drink. 

“Fair enough. I think I'm more excited for the tiramisu.” He mirrors her and leans back, crossing his large arms. His shirt strains a little, and Aelin reminds herself she’s in a relationship. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She affirms, drawing her eyes away from his biceps and running her finger on the rim of her glass. 

“Not to be too invasive, but why did your partner not want to come on a date night with you?” His eyes trace her face, it makes a blush rise to her cheeks. I don't think I've ever blushed like this. “You’re obviously lovely, and a good chef.”

A little shocked by the forwardness, Aelin clears her throat. 

“Pasta!” Giorgio saunters in, carrying two steaming plates of their pasta. Saved by the bell…

Aelin immediately diverts her attention away from Rowan and looks at the dish, the one they made. It looks incredible, and smells even better. The steam wafting up indicates its freshness and Aelin can't wait to dig in. 

“Wow, Giorgio, this looks incredible.” She at the chef, and he just claps and says that they made it, so the thanks are for themselves. 

“More prosecco? Or wine, I've got red… and white! Sauvignon Blanc?” 

“I'll do some white, please,” Aelin says. 

“Red, please.” Rowan nods. 

Giorgio goes to grab glasses and drinks. “Red? With pasta?” 

“No fish,” He shrugs. Fair point. 

When Giorgio returns, with very full glasses of wine, he leaves them alone to their dinner. Rowan starts first, letting out a noise of approval at the taste. Aelin takes that as her cue to dig in. 

It's heavenly. The fresh pasta adds a whole new dimension to the dish, and the simple sauce has such a bold taste. She can taste a hint of basil and assumes Giorgio added it later on. 

“This is incredible, gods wow.” Aelin moans out. 

Rowan's eyes dart to her, and he just nods. Again, she chooses to ignore that, and they eat in silence. 

The dinner goes by without a hitch, and the wine is drained and filled. Tiramisu is served, eaten, and cleared away. By the time the pair are thanking Giorgio, and being gifted a bottle of prosecco each, then standing on the street waiting for their respective taxis, it's quiet. 

The wind cools Aelin’s body, and she pulls her jacket closer around her body. A car pulls up, and Rowan walks forward to ask who it is for. Aelin watches as he nods to the driver, then slips his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card and some cash. He hands the cash to the driver before turning to Aelin. 

“It was lovely meeting you Aelin,” He says, and stretches his hand out. She peers down, noticing the business card he is holding. “The cab is yours, and please take this.” 

She looks back up at his handsome face again, before quickly snatching the card and tucking it into her purse. She just nods and gives him a small smile as she walks around him towards the back door of the taxi. 

Already she feels guilty. What would Chaol think? She just took another man’s business card. But he didn't even come on our date…

“Oh, and Aelin,” Rowan calls out, back on the sidewalk. She turns her body around, uncomfortably since she’s almost halfway in the car. “If you ever feel like dumping that prick, I’d love to meet you for a glass of prosecco sometime.” And he winks at her.

Taglist: @backtobl4ck 

Thank you again for reading!! As always, interaction is always appreciated!