#wrote this in a rush i might edit later

[libraryspectre]

Ugh ok fine I'll talk about my murderbot casting opinions

Awhile back I noticed people getting irritated with Kevin R. Free as the audiobook narrator because he's a man with a Man Voice and it really rankled me. People of any gender can have any voice, and anyway, Kevin R. Free's voice IS fairly androgynous.

This is more or less how I feel about a man being cast as Murderbot. It would have been nice to have a nonbinary actor play Murderbot, because nonbinary actors need more roles, but Murderbot is not nonbinary. Murderbot is nonhuman and human labels are N/A. Gender is N/A. You could argue that is splitting hairs from a representation standpoint, but I think it's core to the theme of the series. (Also, it's great that nonbinary people relate to and claim murderbot as representation, we just need to acknowledge it doesn't experience being genderless in the same way a human does). Because of this, I don't think the studio was ethically obligated to cast a nonbinary person.

I think, from a worldbuiling standpoint, I would have liked someone with a fairly androgynous voice and facial features. This is because we know murderbot is sexless, with no secondary sex characteristics. As far as murderbot's flesh parts, the only relevant features I can think of are voice and lack of facial hair.

So, I'm actually pretty fine with a man being cast as murderbot? I think to follow the logic of secunit biology he should stay clean-shaven for the roll, and maybe avoid the deeper registers of his voice (I haven't heard him speak so I don't actually know what he sounds like.) His features are pretty traditionally masculine but that doesn't really matter, and he has big ol eyes that could help them play into the androgynony if they chose to.

My bigger initial problem was with Murderbot being played by a white actor. I think a lot of the readers' image of Murderbot has been shaped by the Tommy Arnold illustrations where it's dark-skinned. It doesn't actually say anywhere in the books, from what I remember, what Murderbot's skin-tone is like, but we do know it's made from a slurry of donor DNA and the Corporate Rim has people with a wide range of features (I avoided alluding to racial diversity here because we have no idea what concept of race the CR or any of the other settings actually have. Edit: to clarify, the characters are definitely racially diverse from our viewpoint. I just felt the need to caveat because the concept of race is very cultural and we don't actually know what cultural concepts of race the setting has, if any at all. This is my anthropology degree showing lol). It makes little sense for Murderbot to be white if its DNA is built from a pool of people with, most likely, a wide variety of physical features. At least.....I think it is? I realized after thinking about this for awhile that I don't actually know if Murderbot's DNA came from one human donor or a variety of people. So this whole argument could be moot. (If you could direct me to evidence for or against this I'd be grateful).

So, Murderbot being white might be technically fine, from a worldbuilding standpoint, but at that point I think it's just kind of disappointing to see another show with a really diverse supporting cast and a white lead. That being said, there's actually interesting commentary to that, considering Murderbot was created to be a cop. I actually think, if handled well, the image of a bunch of white secunits policing the enslaved masses could be some really effective commentary. And to some extent, it doesn't matter if Murderbot's DNA came from one person or a pool of people, if you take the stance that the Company is intentionally choosing white features for their SecUnits. The commentary stands.

My other concern was that they would whitewash other cast members, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

Finally, the series having Martha Wells' stamp of approval encourages me that they've made these choices with intention and will handle them thoughtfully. I saw another fan point out that there is some power to the idea of seeing an actor on screen that most people would read as male, asserting again and again that it doesn't have gender, and now that I'm feeling more optomistic I agree.

And hey, I'm actually feeling optomistic!

[finnishwhiteboy]

The phrase "Tahtoisin munaa." is a good example.

Tahto- (root, infinitive form "tahtoa", "To want", present tense. Of note, the word "tahto" by itself means "a want" but then it is in the subjective/nominative case), -isi- (conditional suffix), -n (first person possessive suffix), muna- (root, "an egg"), -a (partitive suffix).

(Literal translation: "I would want some egg.")

Now, semantically speaking the phrase "Tahtoisin munaa," is unabiguous with the meaning that the speaker is currently, if possible, desiring a thing/an action, with the undefined amount of "muna" being said thing or action.

The thing is "muna" (which means "an egg") is also a slang/informal term for the penis and/or the testicles. So, pragmatically speaking the sentence "Tahtoisin munaa," could mean that the person wants to eat an egg/eggs, doesn't currently have access to an egg/eggs and is politely requesting (in Finnish using the conditional mood is thought to be more polite when requesting things, compared to asking for them without it) them from the person (it is safe to assume that the speaker is talking to a human in this case) to give the egg/eggs to them, so that they can eat them. And that is in the (potential) context of the speaker wanting to eat food.

OR...

Continuing with a pragmatic reading of the sentence "Tahtoisin munaa." If the speaker says this in a romantic/erotic/sexual context (like when spending time with their partner), this time the speaker is stating that they are willing to engage in penetrative sex, in which they are explicitly the one being penetrated, and politely asking the person (again it is safe to assume they are speaking to a person) if they are willing to engage in said action as the penetrator. Of note is the fact that the word "muna" in this case has it's meaning expanded from the (current contextual) default of penis to "any object capable to be used in an act of penetrating a person's orifice by another person" so it could as well mean, for example, a strap-on.

Due to the ambiguity of the word "muna" the listener is unable to correctly interpret the pragmatic meaning of the sentence without receiving needed context before or after it. The sentence can easily be made less ambiguous by simply replacing the word "muna" with a less ambigous word, for example "kananmuna" (lit. "an egg of a chicken) for the pragmatic desire for food, or with something like "kyrpä" (one of multiple slang terms for penis, literally meaning "cock" or "dick") for the pragmatic desire to get one's orifice penetrated.

Hopefully you found me indulging in my language studies and interests interesting even though it isn't on the language I'm majoring in (since that'd be English)

in your "some finnish" post abt eggs and dicking down, there's no... visual difference between "i want some egg" and "i want to get dicked down"--are they spoken the same and it should just be obvious in conversation whether someone's talking abt breakfast or breeding?

The statements are identical. You're just supposed to know from context.

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒┊Explaining | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

Can’t stop thinking about this post by @tired-biscuit and thinking even harder about catching Katsuki one night.

Will this turn into a thing? Maybe— (update from future! me: This is somehow 2.7k. I don’t know if it even makes any sense, mush brain. It’s midnight. Christ. Edited and added a little read more thing)

『♡』 f! reader, best friends to lovers, m masturbation, piv sex, arguing, anxious katsuki for a bit, some praise, fingering, idk guys sex stuff, unedited bc I wrote it half asleep

Katsuki fucks his fist sloppy, chewing on the end of his shirt. Slippery beads of precum well up and spill down the shaft and he circles his thumb over the head.

He chokes back a moan and squeezes harder, slamming his hips forward desperately in need of release. The tension in his body has been pulling like a rubber band for hours. It stretches farther and farther every time.

Tonight was torture for him. You’d worn those stupid shorts and a loose crop top. You never wear a bra under your crop tops, let alone around him.

Every time you’d lift your arms too high he’d get a peek of your pretty tits and jerk his head to the side. Your shorts were no different— showing off the underside of your ass cheeks and tight enough he could just make out the outline of your pussy. Normally both would be fine but, fuck.

His strokes get faster while his mind fuzzes. Lust clouds his thought process as he shoves the guilt to the back of his mind to deal with later. His face feels numb, his lips tingle, the metaphorical rubber band pulls tighter.

Tighter. Like his fist is while it squeezes down on his cock and spreads the precum all over him.

Tighter. Like he’s sure your pussy would be as it was wrapping around him and sucking him with each thrust.

The end of his t shirt is wet and slobbery. A thin sheen of sweat coats his body and the slapping wet noises of his thrusts is getting louder. His brows furrow as he closes overwhelmed eyes. With the sound of the water running in the background he doesn’t even hear you coming.

You’re usually a little loud when you’re sleepy and heading to the bathroom. Your feet amble beneath you without too much sense, body heavy, mind foggy— you’re a sweet little thing when you’re sleepy. One too many times has he woken to you running into walls while trying to get into the bathroom.

But he doesn’t hear you this time.

He pants and whines a little in the back of his throat, sloppily fucking his hand. He’s focused on the thought of you up under him. Sliding your shorts to the side and letting him eat your pussy. Bouncing on his cock in that big shirt you stole from him a year or two ago.

He’s a goddamn mess. The tension and heat in his tummy gets tighter, tighter, until he feels like he might pass out. The world is about to allow him the grace of relief.

And then you sleepily open your bathroom door. You’re still half awake with drool on your face and your eyes hardly open. You’d changed into comfier shorts and kept the crop top, which was now riding up on one side so that your tit was on display.

“Gotsta’ pee,” You blink hazily trying to figure out why your bathroom smells like fresh salted caramel.

He forgot to lock it.

Katsuki is frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do, say, think— you just walked in on him jacking off in your bathroom. Precum is still dribbling out and all over his hand. He opens his mouth with a red face and lets his shirt drop to cover his abs, quickly shoving his cock into his pajama pants.

And you’re just standing there like you hardly even register what’s going on. Your eyes widen when two and two come together, making four. Watery carmine eyes meet yours as his lips tremble before he’s shoving past you with sparking palms.

He tries to rush out and makes a mad dash to your bedroom to grab his things. Embarrassment and guilt makes him panic, filling his being with a nauseous feeling. And he’s not sure what to do or say.

Does he say sorry? Does he confess? Does he block you and run?

For once, Katsuki doesn’t want to be brave. He is scared and he is tired of being the hero who has no fear. Anxiety makes his fingers shake while tears threaten to spill over his pretty tanned cheeks.

You come rushing around the corner with flushed cheeks and determined hands. Your fingers twist into his shirt and pull him back, spinning him around to face you. It’s a miracle you managed it with how much bigger and stronger he is.

Katsuki’s terrified gaze holds yours with a trembling lower lip. He might be much bigger but right now he feels small.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hey— hey what’s goin’ on?” You coo, pulling him toward your bed to sit. His feet move on their own accord and do as you please. “Why are you leaving?” Fingers twist tighter in his shirt.

The blonde gawks and scrambles for words. Quick breaths leave his lips with little to no time between. Katsuki wants to cry, scream, and just die. You caught him beating his fuckin meat in your bathroom and now you’re comforting him.

“What else m’ I supposed to fuckin do?” He grunts, putting his brave face and frown right back on.

“Get in bed and go back to sleep?” Your head tilts and you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Katsuki confusedly jerks back with a frown and snort. Thick hands grip his sweatpants for dear life.

“You want me to get in bed with you and go back to sleep after—after that?” The AC kicks on in the background and whirrs to life, sending cool air through the room.

“Yeah? Unless you wanna talk about it now at,” you glance at the clock on the nightstand “, two fourty five in the fucking morning.” You rub your face with your palm.

“I don’t think me jacking off in your bathroom needs explaining.” He spits, flustered and annoyed. His face scrunches up all sour and huffs, the tips of his ears still red.

You sigh and frustration bubbles in his chest.

“What? You can’t seriously want me—“

Your hand presses to his mouth and you shoot him a glare. Exhaustion spreads your features with a huff to shut him up.

“What’s going on? And don’t give me some bullshit. Just tell me what’s going on.” Your tone leaves no room for an argument.

“You and your stupid fuckin— stupid shorts and whiny voice and shit. That’s what’s going on!” He leans in so that his nose is only a few inches from yours and snaps.

“Me?” You mumble, obviously confused.

“Yes, you.” His fingers press near your sternum and poke with a growl.

You squeak and narrow your eyes, moving closer to him yourself and pushing his chest lightly.

“What about you?” You guffaw. You’re not quite wrapping your mind around the situation yet, still tired and not understanding what the big deal is.

And Katsuki nearly loses it. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, his mind racing and chest heaving. He’s been dealing with you practically torturing him day in and day out for years— and now you’re asking about him. But before he can speak you start rambling on.

“You run around in these goddamn sweatpants-“ you tug at the grey fabric a little “and you say I’M what’s going on? You still haven’t explained shit!”

Katsuki turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He starts noticing your close proximity, the way your breath still smells like toothpaste, your pout. Your lips are an inch away from his and it is taking every little bit of willpower he has to not kiss you.

“Yes.” A puff of air ghosts over your lips and you take in the sight in front of you. Feelings you tried to shove down bubble in your tummy and spread.

The rubber band that’s been winding in his gut and mind for far too long grows tighter. Stretched to the point of which it’ll never be the same.

Heat in your stomach starts to flow and consume your being as things begin to click into place. He was getting off in your bathroom, he said you’re what’s going on.

“Oh..” you breathlessly whisper. Something in you burns. If he feels the same way then.. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

Katsuki jerks his head away from yours and looks to the side. His shoulders tight, grey t shirt with a damp area at the bottoms wrinkling as he fidgets with it. It’s like he’s waiting for the sting of rejection.

You grab his jaw with unsure hands and guide him back to look at you. His big, misty and wide eyes peering into your own.

And then you kiss him.

Snap

All tongue and soft lips, teeth clashing against his from the awkward position. You dig your nails into his chest like he’s gonna float away if you don’t.

And katsuki just might. Because you taste just like he thought you would, your mouth moves against his like he was just fantasizing about before. He soaks in the kiss like it will be his last until you break for air while panting.

“Don’t you ever try to run from me like that again.” You whine and dive back in.

His body acts before he can think enough to stop himself. You fall back against the mattress, plushie beside your head. His thick heavy body presses you into it and weighs you down while big hands travel up and down you. He explores your body like it’s something to be worshipped.

Your own hands push and pull at him. They slide under his shirt and drag nails down his toned, tan back. Your legs open up so he can slot between them with a particularly good suck on his bottom lip.

A breathy moan leaves your lips and it sends fire down his body.

“Fuck— god.” He whines between kisses. The line of his cock presses against you through your thin pajama shorts and makes you antsy. Your fingers grip at Wheaty blond roots and tug.

“Is this— oh,” You can feel him drag against you through his sweats. “ is this what you were thinking about?”

Katsuki shakes his head.

“Close enough.” He gasps, guttural and needy as your teeth nip under his jaw. Your tongue slides down the column of his throat as his clothed cock does against your heat.

“Wanna know what I think about?”

His mind stills and he nods feverishly before diving into the crook of your neck to suck. Pink marks are left in his wake and his fingers slide under the fabric of your shorts to rub little circles on your clit.

It makes you stutter and forget what you’re doing for a moment, your legs shake and squeeze around him.

“Been thinkin’ bout your cock in me—“ your pussy drools all over his fingers and the breath gets punched out of him all at once.

“God you fuckin minx.” He growls and slips a finger into your already soaked core. He feels a little more sure of himself, a little better about it.

Your head throws back when he adds the second finger and curls them up. The pad of his thumb works in little circles and flicking motions rhythmically. You keep making these little noises that send jolts to his cock and make it twitch.

For the second time that night, his cock drools precum. It smears against the inside of his pajama pants and dribbles even more when your eyes go wide.

“Katsuki— god, like that, like that!” You babble until a particular stroke of his thumb has your body tightening and then shaking. Release covers his fingers and he yanks your pajama shorts off your body and throws them to the side.

“Good girl, that’s a good girl.” Thick fingers rub soothing circles over your pussy while he slides his shirt and pants off.

You feel his cock press against your folds and then his face is right above yours. He licks lazily into your mouth, hand coming up under your thighs to guide them around his back where your ankles cross over.

“Shit— y’so wet for me.” He mumbles between kisses and then links a hand with yours, pressing it into the mattress. “You want it? Want my cock?”

“Quit being a tease! Just give me your ohhh” You whimper and gasp, head throwing back and free hand coming to clutch at anything you can get your hands on.

He’s girthy and hot as he fills you up to the brim. There’s not a space untouched by his cock, making you feel so stuffed and out of breath you can hardly move.

“That’s it, you can take it.” He breathes into your mouth.

You slowly adjust to him and as soon as you relax, he pulls his hips back and thrusts. It makes you hiccup and lose your mind. The sheets are much too sweaty, AC be damned, and he looks like a literal god over you.

All tanned muscle and flushed cheeks. His pretty focused face scrunched up in determination not to cum immediately. You’re not sure how much you can take before you tear the sheets apart and scream.

He sets an even pace with his hips before propping your hips up a little and slowing down. It’s slow but it’s deep. His cock head touches something in you that has expletives leaving both your mouths as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he desperately tries to keep hold of sanity. But you taste good, you smell good- better than any of his fantasies. Your pussy wraps around him in ways he couldn’t imagine. You’re really sprawled under him and moaning.

His cock is frothing near the base because of how wet you are, pussy juice and precum sliding between your ass cheeks and onto the bed. Your pink bedsheets are damp and one of your plushies has been thrown off the bed in the midst of your feverish mess.

It doesn’t last long. His face crumples as he cums and he rubs your clit and pussy until you squeeze down on him right after.

His jaw drops into a low “o” when he cums. You thank every lucky star for birth control while you both come down off a high. The two of you lay there and pant for a while before his cock slides out of you and he collapses onto your bed.

“Holy fuck.” Katsuki mutters to no one but himself. Half of him can’t believe it. He feels like icy hot with his back and forth his thoughts are, reeling and trying to take in what happened and what is happening.

“Yeah—“ you roll and press your chest against him. A kiss to his jaw makes his heart throb. “God that was good.”

A thick, beefy arm wraps around you and he hides his face in your neck. He sighs and pulls you in closer.

“I better not be readin’ this shit wrong but..” He mumbles, yanking up the blankets over the two of you. “We’re a thing now right?”

You snort and laugh for a minute.

“Yeah, duh, dummy” You smack his chest and roll your eyes.

The AC finally does it’s job at cooling the two of you off and he grumbles and gets a towel to clean you off. It only takes a few minutes before the two of you are back in pajamas and laying on top of a throw blanket. The massive comforter pulled over the two of you.

You flick on the TV and scroll through some of the go to shows before curling against him with a sigh. When you glance up, you notice a deep frown on his face and grumble.

“What are you looking so pissy for?” You place a peck on his jaw and turn your attention back to the screen.

His big hands run up and down your body, thumbs dragging over your hips. With a look of defeat and a pout, he admits, “Eiji’ bet me a hundred bucks you liked me back.”

That earns him a smack on the chest. “Don’t you dare tell him it’s cause I caught you beating off in my bathroom, Katsuki.”

[verricherri]

spencer making reader read his book while you ride him...

Chapter & Verse (NSFW///MDNI)

A/N: written from a perspective that echoes Joe from You and Steve from Fresh — obsessive, devoted, unsettling — but filtered through Spencer Reid’s softness, and complexity. It’s something i fully believe Spencer would do, in his own quiet way. Warnings: this is a dedication — a heavy, emotional tribute from Dr. Spencer Reid to you. A eulogy in his words. it’s tender. it’s intense. Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated  ☀️

The storm had started around nine.

By ten, the lights were flickering, and by eleven, Spencer Reid was pacing like a man trying not to break his own rules.

You were curled up on his couch, blanket over your knees, tea cooling in your hands. One of his cardigans hung off your shoulders. You’d stolen it weeks ago and he hadn’t asked for it back. The collar still smelled like his laundry detergent — citrus and cedar — and maybe that’s why you noticed the spiral-bound notebook shoved beneath the chessboard.

Something handwritten. Not one of his case files.

And not one of the journals he let you read.

You tilted your head. “What’s that?”

He froze. Like he hadn’t meant for you to see it. “It’s nothing.” You smirked. “You’re a terrible liar.” “It’s just… something I wrote.” He fidgeted. “I’ve been editing it for a while.” You sat forward. “Is it a paper?”

He didn’t answer.

You followed his glance to the title page — your name. Your actual name. Not your initials. Not a code. Just your name in careful pen strokes, followed by:

A study in contradictions, by Spencer Reid

Your stomach flipped.

“Spencer—” “I wrote it while I was inside,” he said, voice softer now. “There was… time. And you were the only thing that didn’t feel like punishment.”

You stared at the cover.

“I didn’t write it to impress anyone. Or even to be read. But… you once said you wanted to know how my mind works.” His gaze flicked up, steady now. “That’s how.” “You want me to read it?” He nodded once. “Out loud.” You blinked. “Why now?”

He paused.

Then: “Because it was always for you. But I didn’t know if I could… hand you the version of me that existed when I thought I might not come home.”

The silence was heavy. Holy.

He took a slow step back toward the hallway, retreating like an invitation you had to chase.

At the doorway, he looked over his shoulder.

“And if you're going to read it,” he said, voice low and certain, “come find out how the rest of it ends.”

---

You didn’t rush.

By the time you stepped into the bedroom, the manuscript was warm in your hands. The storm whispered at the window. Spencer sat against the headboard — hoodie rumpled, sweatpants low on his hips — looking relaxed in posture but not in the way he gripped the blanket with white-knuckled tension.

You climbed onto the bed and straddled his lap — knees bracketing his thighs, notebook in your hands — and opened to the first page.

“The first time he noticed her was on a Tuesday. Or maybe a Wednesday. He liked the symmetry of Wednesday better.”

Your voice didn’t shake, but your hands did.

Spencer didn’t move. Just nodded once. “Keep going.”

You shifted closer. Let your body settle against his. The heat between you buzzed like a taut string waiting to snap.

“He wondered, in a moment he would later classify as irrational, how she sounded when she broke. Not her voice — but her rhythm. Her logic. He wanted to chart the way her breath hitched. Graph the curve of her spine. Label each noise like a new discovery.”

You looked up.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His hands stayed clenched in the sheets.

You rocked your hips slightly. Testing.

His breath stuttered.

You flipped another page.

“He imagined her in layers. Cardigan. Cotton. Skin. Want. He wanted to peel them back like chapters. To see what changed from the prologue to the climax.”

You smiled, sharp and breathless. “This is… intense.” He didn’t blink. “It’s accurate.”

Your hands slid under his hoodie, up his stomach, slow and sure — and he let you undress him like a secret you already knew the ending to. Shirt. Hoodie. Sweatpants. All discarded.

When he was finally bare, you leaned back, unbuttoned your own shirt, let the cardigan fall.

The cardigan he once called “the most beautiful thing you steal from me every week.”

Now you were skin to skin — your knees tucked under his, thighs bracketing his hips.

You picked up the manuscript again. “Where were we?” “Page twelve.”

---

You held the manuscript in one hand and guided him with the other — slow and precise, no hesitation, just the sound of your breath mingling with his as you sank down onto him inch by inch.

When your hips met his, Spencer exhaled like he’d been holding it in for months.

You read.

“She sinks over him like a truth he didn’t earn but begged for anyway. She stays there, tight around him, and reads every word like penance. She doesn’t ask him to talk. She just makes him feel it.”

His grip on your waist twitched.

You shifted once. Then again. The friction turned electric. Your voice wavered.

“She rides him in silence until he breaks. Until the words he built his world around scatter at her feet, and all that’s left is breath and her name in every tense.”

Spencer groaned. One hand fisted the sheets. The other rose to brush your hair back from your cheek.

You dropped the notebook to the bed.

Your hands slid down his chest. You started to move.

And he let you.

No words. Just sound.

Just the way he whispered your name like a sentence with no punctuation — something continuous and breaking all at once — and the way you collapsed together, clinging, undone.

You didn’t let go.

Not yet.

---

Time passed.

Neither of you moved.

You lay sprawled across his chest, heartbeat slowing, his fingers tracing lazy, reverent lines along your spine like he was still writing something — something unspoken but known.

You exhaled into his neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from that paragraph on page fifteen.” He huffed a laugh. “Which part?” “The part where she says his hands know her better than she does.” His smile was crooked. “It’s true.”

You reached for the manuscript again. The pages were warm. Smudged slightly from where your thumbs had trembled.

You flipped to the last page.

There, barely visible, was a note in the bottom corner.

Annotation 6A: If she reads this far, I’ll tell her the truth. I’m in love with her. I have been. Since long before she ever said my name like it meant something.

You read it twice. Then a third time. Just to be sure.

You looked up.

Spencer’s eyes were glassy but calm — like he wasn’t afraid of you seeing him anymore.

“I never erased it,” he said softly. “It was supposed to be temporary. But the truth… didn’t fade.”

You curled your fingers into his chest.

“I knew,” you whispered. “But it’s different — hearing it like that. On paper. Where you’re most honest.” He pulled you into his arms like he was relieved and ruined all at once. “It was always you.” “I know,” you said, pressing your lips to his jaw. “I read it.”

---

Later — after the second time, after you kissed the word mine into his collarbone and whispered your favourite lines back into his mouth — you reached for the front page again.

The title. The words. Your name.

You read the dedication aloud, voice low, steady:

For the girl who made me forget the difference between fiction and memory.

Spencer turned his head, eyes locking with yours — not sharp or analytical, but soft, like he wasn’t thinking for once. Just feeling.

“That line,” you said, “that’s the one.” “I know,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. “Because you’re not a theory. Or a character. You’re the only thing that ever made it feel real again.” Your eyes burned. “And this book?” He nodded. “It was supposed to help me survive prison.” You swallowed. “And now?” He smiled faintly, kissing your temple. “Now it’s just proof. That even when I was locked away, I still knew what love looked like.”

You closed the notebook.

Tucked it onto the nightstand beside the lamp.

And when you curled into his arms, warm and wrecked and wholly his, Spencer whispered one final line — not from the book, not from memory.

Just from him.

Soft. Absolute.

“Chapter One was always you.”

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[kiestrokes]

Selfish Waltz | NSFW

💃🏼 Pairing: Boyfriend!Park Seonghwa x Reader/You/Yn x Friend!Kang Yeosang 💃🏼Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI.  💃🏼 Genre: drabble, porn without plot, smut.  💃🏼 Word Count: 1451 💃🏼 Warnings: maybe some cursing? consented drinking, but no one is drunk or even tipsy.

💃🏼Sexually Explicit Content: THIS IS A THREESOME!!! Subtle soft dom!Hwa. Cum shot, orgasms (for all three), kissing, nipple stim, hand job, intercourse (penis in vagina), aftercare, showering together, round two?

🗝️ Note: Hi, I just wanted to gift y'all a quick little something for this colonizer holiday. I wrote this on my ten minute break yesterday. I have been OOT since after work yesterday for a friendsgiving and unfortunately I have to work tomorrow. So I will fluff and edit this Sunday. So proceed with care, I will add warnings Sunday once I’m off.

💃🏼Edit 1: I have added what I think are all the warnings, but I had an appt to get to and my laptop is dying. So the fluffing will have to wait until later. Final edit might include a cover of some sort, so you'll know it is finished when you see that or a second edit note! 💃🏼Edit 2: I caved and put the cover up, fic might still undergo some edits. 💃🏼Edit 3: final edit and word count up!

💿 Selfish Waltz by ATEEZ 📰 Will put up on ao3 eventually! ☄️Main Masterlist

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below. 

Starboy🌠: on our way to you, love 😘

You: OMG Yeosang is so cute!

Starboy🌠: 🧍🏻

You: bby you’re pretty as ever. But Yeosangie 🥺

Starboy🌠: 😒

You: don’t you want to squish his cheeks?

Starboy🌠: I kiss his cheeks all the time.

You: ok so why can’t I?

Starboy🌠: I didn’t say you couldn’t 🤨

You: 👁️🫦👁️

Your monthly friend dinner goes off without a hitch, Seonghwa never saying anything else about conversation with Yeosang. He remained his usual attentive and affectionate self, devouring the food you had prepared with hums of appreciation.

Seonghwa and Yeosang clean up as you tell other guests goodbye for the night. When you return to the kitchen, Yeosang excitedly tells you that he and Seonghwa had picked up soju and beer on the way to play a little post dinner drinking game.

Which leads you to where you currently are, leaning across Seonghwa, about to kiss a giggling Yeosang.

"Yaaah! Kiss her right," Seonghwa taps Yeosang's knee with his bottle of soju.

Yeosang sobers, taking Seonghwa's words as a challenge. He tugs you forward by the nape of your neck and kisses you with all he’s got. Tiny tongue lapping into your mouth before he sucks on your bottom lip and pressing rushed pecks across your mouth, to the corners, messily. Something so essentially Yeosang.

Leaving you stunned and Seonghwa smirking at both; your flustered state and in pride of Yeosang's performance.

"Do you want a little more than a kiss, love?"

You nod at your boyfriend and neither man hesitate in helping you climb across Seonghwa and into Yeosang's lap. His pretty fingers teasing your bare legs at the hem of your dress, where it flutters above your knees.

"Yeosangie..."

He hums, tilting his face to yours, eyes already lidded in anticipation of another kiss. You don't make him wait, lips slotting against his as your hips press into his pelvis.

Yeosang moans into your mouth, deep and rich. Causing your arms to erupt into goosebumps and your nipples to tighten behind the lace of your bra.

Seonghwa lifts your hips to pull your panties to the side. He reaches under and undoes Yeosang’s pants. Yeosang lifts his hips for Seonghwa to pull them down to mid thigh along with his boxers.

Seonghwa's fingers slip into you from behind and he presses his other hand on the small of your back, guiding you to rub against Yeosang’s erection as the two of you fight for oral dominance.

Once you have your hips gliding into a steady row against Yeosang's cock, Seonghwa pushes his shirt up to pinch his nipples.

Yeosang moans hands drifting from gently cupping your face and cradling your head to grabbing your hips and grinding back.

“Good boy,” Seonghwa breathes as he scissors his fingers at your entrance, arousal dripping over his knuckles brushing against Yeosang’s hardness.

“Hyung,” Yeosang pants as you suck on his earlobe.

“Don’t come yet Yeosangie, I haven’t even started.”

Seonghwa withdraws his fingers from you to undo his pants, just enough to get his erection out.

Your hips slow to a gentle roll against Yeosang, and his hands bunch the dress up at your hips. Eyes pinching close and head kicking back in a baritone moan. You cup his face, seeking his lips and he greets you eagerly. His small tongue swirling around yours again.

Seonghwa rubs his tip through your essence causing you to gasp into Yeosang’s mouth, pulling away when Yeosang’s hand knots in your hair his kiss turning feral as Seonghwa starts to fill you up from behind. Yeosang echoes your moans as you leak around Seonghwa's entry.

“Yeosang,” you gasp when he lets your face fall into the soft turtleneck sweater covering his neck.

Seonghwa gives a dry laugh thrusting into you, “my dicks filling you up, yet you’re moaning his name.”

You cry out as Seonghwa strokes purposely into the one spot he knows makes you gush. Fingers twisting into Yeosang’s sweater as his hands move to spread you open for Seonghwa, rubbing his leaking cock against your clit from below.

“Hyung, please,” Yeosang moans.

Your boyfriend grunts, his hips picking up speed.

“Ahh Hwa!”

Your body tightens and the double stimulation. Trying to crawl up Yeosang’s body to get away it. Your fingers twisting into his hair, lips brushing against his temple as Seonghwa pounds you from behind.

Yeosang let’s you lift off of him, nuzzling his face into your cleavage leaving your ass behind to tug the cups of your bra and dress down to get his mouth around your nipple.

“Fuck-fuck,” you gasp as his tongue twirls the nub behind his teeth.

“Love, baby,” Seonghwa whines stilling with his hips firm against your ass as you pulse around him.

Yeosang peaks up at you from under his fringe and shyly let’s go of your nipple allowing your body to relax. Seonghwa sighs in relief, picking up his thrusts again. As you settle back in Yeosang’s lap and lift his chin to meet your gaze.

The two of you watching the other crumble as Seonghwa fucks you into each other. His hands pressing you harder into Yeosang’s leaking cock. Yeosang’s hands clutching your spread thighs.

“Fuck you both look so good,” Seonghwa pants nuzzling your neck from behind.

One hand reaching out to cup the other side of Yeosang’s face that you aren’t. Your boyfriend's thumb rubbing his kiss swollen bottom lip and Yeosang’s tongue flicks out to stroke it.

Seonghwa groans and you feel him throb inside you at the younger man’s movement. He rubs his thumb into Yeosang’s tongue, and when he pulls away you dive in for another kiss that Yeosang is anticipating.

While Seonghwa reaches between the two of you to swirl his damp thumb over Yeosang’s slit. Causing Yeosang to suck your tongue on accident and you to rut back into Seonghwa.

Your moans creating a lewd acapella as all of you chase your releases in desperation.

Seonghwa presses a hand between your breasts to lift you off Yeosang and fists him, slicked up with your arousal.

Yeosang's fingers tighten on your thighs and his cute mouth forms an “o” as your boyfriend pumps you both to completion.

Yeosang now thrusting erratically between your thighs into Soenghwa's fist. While Seonghwa drags you back on his cock from behind.

“Hyunggg,” Yeosang begs as you fist his sweater in one hand and hold Seonghwa's arm that's stroking Yeosang with your other.

“Seonghwa, please oh god it’s right there!”

Seonghwa let’s out a deep laugh, breathy and heavily affected by the two of you falling apart in front of him.

“Watch him.”

Yeosang moans, heavy gaze meeting yours, his bottom teeth bite into his lip as he releases across your boyfriends hand and over his own abs.

You cry out, following right behind him arousal soaking Seonghwa in a way that has his eyes rolling back and finishing with you.

Seonghwa's hips continue pumping through the echos of your orgasm. Until he lets your body come to rest against Yeosang's spent cock. Slowly pulling out, your releases spilling over Yeosang's pants.

"Fuck Yeo, I'm sorry. You will have to borrow some clothes I keep here," Seonghwa huffs in apology.

Your thumb strokes Yeosangs cheek, brushing the tip of his birth mark and his chest heaves, nodding at your boyfriend.

“Stay here, I will get the shower ready.”

Seonghwa kisses the top of your head before departing. Yeosang's hazy gaze flickers to yours.

“Are you ok?”

Yeosang nods small smile teasing his lips.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You lean into him in answer, the kiss more gentle, curious even. You nuzzle into his neck aftwards until Seonghwa comes to retrieve the two of you to get cleaned up.

Yeosang turns out to be just as doting in aftercare as Seonghwa is; lathering up your hair, massaging your scalp as Seonghwa cleans your body.

Your boyfriends familiar, long fingers teasing all your sensitive spots until you pin him to the shower wall for a damp kiss.

Turning you tug Yeosang in for one as well to show your gratitude.

Seonghwa is smiling a little too smugly when the two of you part.

“What?”

Seonghwa wags his eyebrows at you, before leading you with his gaze to Yeosang’s standing erection.

Yeosang moves his hands slowly to cover it. Seonghwa tuts at him and you watch as your boyfriend pulls Yeosang in, lips skimming his ear before Seonghwa's beautiful lips overtake Yeosang’s swallowing his small gasp. Hand moving to bat Yeosang's own away from his erection and reaching blindly beside him to place yours on it.

Seonghwa pulls away to meet your eyes, “whatever you want to do baby.”

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes 

All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations. No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text, including without the limitation technologies capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

[thunderingwisdom]

morning daze

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Rating: Mature/Minors DNI

Pairing: Jing Yuan/Reader

Word Count: 1340

Summary: You're used to your partner coming home late, and you're used to him lavishing his attention on you. It never gets old, and your love for him only grows.

a/n: mom I LOVE him!!! also I tried to keep this one as gender-neutral as possible, I think it worked out?

honestly i just have jing yuan brainrot-wrote this in a rush might edit later?

tags: mature themes, implications of nsfw themes, cuddling, toothache

Consciousness beckons, curling around you, pulling you closer. The morning light tries to reach you through the thin barrier of the linen curtains as you cling to the last vestiges of sleep. 

An arm tightens around your waist. 

Perking up, but fighting to keep your eyes shut, you try not to react to the warm breath ghosting over your neck, to the smile pressing into your skin. 

“You got in late,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep. It was nothing out of the ordinary–he would either come to bed really late or not at all. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

His mouth doesn’t leave your shoulder; a long inhale is his first response, followed by a sound of laughter low in his throat. 

“With such a beauty in my arms, sleep itself insisted on postponing our meeting,” he tells you, hand ghosting across your ribs. There’s not a hint of sleep in his voice. He laughs when you squirm and moves to press it low on your belly, moving the sheets aside. 

“Flatterer,” you accuse sleepily. “Even an accomplished general needs sleep.” 

“Maybe this general needs the warmth of his beloved more.” An edge of possessiveness underlines his touch, his hand continuing its journey over your hips, leaving a trail of warmth that you swear you feel down to your bones. 

“…you have to go back soon, don’t you,” you ask resignedly, fingers reaching for his bicep, dancing over his skin. Old scars littered throughout, a story you quite enjoy following with your mouth. “Jing Yuan..”

“In a few hours,” he reassures you, nipping at the delicate skin below your neck, chuckling at the way your shoulders jerk. “Preparations for the Wardance are about to commence.”

“Perhaps these few hours would be better spent asleep, regaining your strength?” You grumble, knowing he would be fine but unable to help it.

“My dear, you severely underestimate the influence your affections have on this haggard soldier.” 

“And what kind of affections are on your mind?” You ask, amused, as his hand creeps lower; you turn your head to brush soft kisses where you can reach, readily meeting his mouth when he leans in. 

A rush of warmth low in your belly, familiar–it never fails to find you when you feel him smiling into your kisses. Which is almost always. A soft curve to his mouth, gentle eyes, leaning into your touch–a side only you get to see. 

“Whatever my beloved sees fit to bestow upon me,” he murmurs, the lightest of sighs leaving him at the butterfly kisses you leave on the corners of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. “Although, if you keep this up, my simple mind will surely be lured down wicked paths…” 

“Simple,” you muse out loud, turning over in his arms to see him properly. Jing Yuan meets your eyes steadily, giving you a moment to search his face. Tired, but in good spirits. “If our general’s mind is rendered such, what would become of the rest of us?”

“There are people more than capable of taking over. And we get to live out the rest of our lives in this bed, of course,” he responds easily, both his hands teaming up to stroke up and down your back. “I’m sure we could scrounge up a meal or two.” His palms slide lower, curving over your rear to press you closer. 

You laugh into his skin, sliding your arms around his neck. Questing fingers sneak into his wild hair, gentle as they rake across his scalp. He groans into the crown of your head, melting in your arms. “I don’t think I could live with starving you.” 

“A life spent between your legs is a life without regrets,” he says promptly, if a little dazedly. “Truly, that would be the one thing I couldn’t regret even upon pain of torture.” 

You roll your eyes, fondly yet exasperatedly, hands gliding down to knead gently at the nape of his neck. A burst of affection has you kissing him deeply, a foot sneaking up his calf. 

He’s not one to turn his brain off easily, but you know after all this time spent together that kissing him long enough will get you close. Whether it’s fierce, fueled by a need to be as close as possible—or slow, gentle, pulling you in with the desire to just feel. You’ve worked hard to give him this, a place to feel safe and shed his armour. 

“One of these days, I’m going to keep you here for days, coaxing you to sleep and filling your belly until you grow round,” you inform him, the hint of a playful growl in your tone. And yet, it’s your heartbeat that quickens at the darkness that shades his eyes. 

“Filling my belly? Not with food, I hope?” He purrs, teeth sinking into the soft flesh below your jaw. His hands dig into your skin at the sounds that escape your mouth. 

You long to pamper him more, kneading away the knots in his muscles and chasing away the shadows in his eyes. When you get the occasional evening together, you’re eager to spend it lounging in the tub, exchanging lazy kisses and tales of your lives before each other. Or you cook together, finding new dishes to adore or experiments to laugh at. 

The first time he let you sit him down and work a brush through his hair, he fell asleep in the chair. It relaxes him in a way nothing else can, even if it often leaves you giggling at the way he paws at you, pressing his face into your stomach. The claws of self-consciousness had long faded, with each worshipful touch of his hands, and his greedy mouth. 

That was another thing that came as a surprise. 

“You leave me unable to form a coherent thought, and yet I can nearly hear you thinking,” Jing Yuan comments, nuzzling your hair. “Rather cruel of you, darling.” 

Once he let himself settle into your life tougher, you began to see glimpses of it. He’s greedy–for your gaze, for your thoughts, for your hands on him, and the taste of your skin. 

“Would it help to know you’re the one in my thoughts?” 

“But of course. If it were someone else, I’m afraid I would have to put in extra work to eradicate the very thought,” Jing Yuan declares. A shudder climbs up your spine at the thought of him doing more work, although you being the focus of it might not be a bad deal. “Hmm, actually…”

“Who could ever find the space to slip into my mind with this greedy general occupying every inch?” 

It makes him laugh, eyes curving at you. “Now who’s the flatterer? And if you spoil a starved beast too much, it’s only natural for it to become greedy.” You feel his breath against your mouth—hovering, teasing. The intent in his gaze is clear as his prowling comes to a close.

“You’re right. I should’ve trained you better,” you lament. “Is it too late now?” 

“I’m afraid it is,” he tells you somberly, a twinkle in his eyes. “The hunger is ever-present, and it feels endless.” 

“I have food in the fridge,” you suggest innocently, fighting a grin as you tap his chin. Jing Yuan snaps at it playfully, and your laughter leaves you in sputters. 

“Good. You’ll need it,” he nods decisively, before turning you over onto your back, climbing over you with more grace than is truly fair. You want to sigh at the way your legs fall open, accepting his place between them. “I hope you won’t mind if I eat first?” 

He leans in for a kiss, then another. You want to tell him to get more rest, and he waits, watching you with a smile. But you love giving him what he wants and know you’ll get to hold him after, when he’s sated and dozing against your chest.

You’ll try your luck then, to keep him close a little longer. 

[holymarymotherofsmut]

Summer Heat

Summary: You’re stuck heading into the office on a Sunday on the hottest day of the year, so you forego your usual business attire and show up in something more comfortable. The only problem? Your hot boss, Higuruma Hiromi is also working overtime. Can you handle the heat, the pressure, and Higuruma’s weird behavior?

wc: 8.3k

A/N: I wrote this on a miserable Sunday over the summer where I was too hot and had to do some work (luckily from home). I’ve been fussing over it but the temps are getting lower where I live and I was dreaming about warmer days with later sunsets.

Anyway, this is the first fic I’ve posted in like fifteen years! I feel like it’s too long and could use more editing, but I feel more strongly that the Higuruma girlies don’t get fed nearly enough so I’m doing my part 🫡

The only thing worse than having to go to work on a Sunday was having to go to work on a Sunday that’s also slated to be the hottest day of the year. The thought of putting on your usual pencil skirt and blouse made you want to peel your own skin off.

Then something occurred to you.

No one ever came in on Sunday. Not the power hungry new associates, hoping to stand out. Not the assistants, always drowning in more work than they could reasonably finish, but still did nonetheless. Not even your workaholic boss, Higuruma Hiromi, came in on Sundays.

You felt a guilty thrill, riding the train to the office in just some bike shorts and a tank top. There was no chance of anyone else being there, especially not as early in the morning as you were going, but the idea of getting caught still sent an anxious tingle up your spine.

The air conditioning in the building was almost enough to make up for the mountain of paperwork you needed to review before you could have what precious little remained of the weekend to yourself. You had your own office, whose closed door had trapped the AC since you left on Friday, an icy cold reprieve from the scorching temperatures outside.

As expected, there’s no sign of anyone else in the building today. You leave your door open anyway, hoping to hear anyone who might happen to come in before they find you.

Feeling a little more confident, you put on some music, keeping the level low even with the empty halls. You sang along quietly, occasionally gripping your pen as a microphone to belt out particularly good bits. You were lost in your performance enough that you didn’t notice someone else had arrived at the office.

It’s a muffled chuckle that makes you realize you’re not alone. Your eyes open, shooting to the door where your boss, the law firm's youngest partner, Higuruma Hiromi, is watching you. He has one fist raised to cover his mouth, trying desperately to suppress a laugh.

“Fuck!” You shout in surprise, scrambling to turn off the music.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” he says with a good natured smile, still chuckling a little. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here today and then I heard you.”

At the same time, you were trying to explain. “Please, I’m so sorry. I know I’m dressed wildly inappropriately for the office. I really didn’t think anyone would be here.”

He visibly stiffened, finally looking at your outfit. Your breasts spilled out of your top, shining with a thin sheen of sweat just from the brief walk from the station to the office. He could just see a sliver of thigh over the desk where your shorts ended before your legs disappeared under the desk. His smile disappeared and was replaced with an almost pained expression, one you read as thinly veiled disgust.

“I’ll run home and change. I’m so sorry,” you rushed out, standing up behind your desk and fumbling for your bag.

“What?” His big eyes met your panicked ones for a second. “No, don’t be silly. No one else is here, and I’ll be in my office all day.”

You paused, bag still in hand, brain screaming for you to leave and never come back to the office again. “Are you sure?”

“You won’t even know I’m here,” he said with a tight-lipped smile.

He stood there staring at you, not moving until you set your bag down. Once he was satisfied, he gave you a quick nod and turned on his heel out of your office. You knew it was probably your imagination, but you could have sworn he was half-running back to his office.

Higuruma vexed you. That was the only way you could put it. He was generally so kind, so ready to explain something, or to help you work out an argument. He never questioned when you needed time off, he never asked you to stay and work overtime. And being that handsome certainly didn’t hurt. All of this only made you more desperate to impress this man.

The only time he was ever anything other than a perfect gentleman was when you wore revealing clothing. You didn’t have evidence of anything, and it sounded insane even to you, so you hadn’t shared your suspicions, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that was the problem.

The first time it happened, a client had accidentally spilled coffee down the front of your dress, and you didn’t have time to run home and change before you needed to be in court. You had grabbed the spare set of clothes you kept in the bottom drawer of your desk and hoped for the best.

The clothes had been shuffled from one temporary legal job to the next while you were finding your footing after law school, and you’d never had occasion to use them before, so you weren’t terribly surprised to find them a little tight.

You had started eating more, now that you weren’t a literally starving law student. Your figure had filled out, and it showed when you tried to squeeze into the years-old pencil skirt and button down blouse, but you had no other choice. As you tried to secure one more button on the top, trying to retain some level of modesty, your breasts rebelled and you heard the button ping against the mirror.

You were assisting Higuruma in court that day, and immediately things started to go poorly. You had arrived at his office, your blouse undone a button below where it should have been, trying desperately to hide in your coworker’s blazer she’d let you borrow to try to cover yourself a little more effectively.

“You weren’t wearing that earlier,” he had blurted out, taking in the much tighter outfit you had appeared in.

“Sorry. Someone covered me in coffee and this was all I had,” you said with an apologetic wince.

“It’s fine,” he said, waving his hand and looking back down at the papers on his desk intently. “I’m just finishing something up. Can I meet you down by my car? The keys are in the pocket of my jacket just there.”

He didn’t even look up at you as he gestured to the coat rack where his suit jacket hung. You felt a little like you were being dismissed. You took the keys with a frown and made your way down to his car.

He appeared not even a minute later, making you wonder if he just didn’t want to be seen walking with you. He ignored you the whole ride to the court house. Okay, not really - he chatted with you, a little more stiffly than usual, but with a friendly tone. But he didn’t look at you once during the drive. You appreciated him keeping his eyes on the road, but this felt deliberate.

His cold behavior continued for the rest of the day. All throughout the hearing, when he was driving you to the station, all day, he only looked at you if he absolutely had to. The only thing you could think was that he was embarrassed to be seen with you looking like that.

You had returned to the office the next day in long, loose pants and a shapeless sweater, shame still lingering. You replaced your emergency clothes with ones that fit properly. Higuruma went back to being his normal self.

The second time you had noticed it was at the office Holiday party. Everyone had shown up in fun cocktail attire, and you had gotten so many compliments on your dress. Burgundy velvet, long sleeves, and an open neckline that showed off your shoulders without revealing too much cleavage. A happy medium of sexy and office appropriate, or so you’d thought.

After greeting Higuruma on the way in, you didn’t see him for the rest of the night. You had been hoping to chat with him - you were still relatively new and you wanted him to know you were up for any challenging cases he had to throw at you. But every time you’d spot him, in the time it took you to extricate yourself from the conversion you were in and make your way to where you’d spotted him, he was gone.

He had left the party early, and you had left feeling rejected. You couldn’t figure out what you’d done wrong. You could only hope that you could work your way back into his good graces before he decided to fire you.

Only, there was no need to work your way back into his good graces, as it turned out. He was at your desk first thing the next morning, explaining the new defense strategy he had cooked up, sounding hopeful about the case for the first time since he’d taken it on.

If twice is a coincidence and thrice is a pattern, today solidified your belief that it was clothing related. You frown, thinking about how kind you always thought Higuruma was. If he was going to act this way over some clothing, maybe he wasn’t worth putting in the effort to impress.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the smell of coffee drifting from down the hall. You had long finished the cup you brought from home and were craving another. Hesitantly, you made your way to the kitchen, unpleasantly surprised to find Higuruma had beaten you there.

You hesitated in the doorway, debating going in, but his dark eyes found you before you could make a decision.

“Oh, hello again,” he said mildly, immediately turning back to the cupboard. It was too fast to have not been intentional, but he tried to cover it up by opening the cabinet with the mugs, the ends of his slicked-back hair swaying slightly as he surveyed the sea of identical mugs. “I assume you’re here for coffee?”

Before you can answer he pours you a cup, gesturing to it, still not looking at you.

“Thank you.” You say it looking directly at him, hoping to leave him no choice but to finally look you in the eye. And he does, for a fleeting moment. You think you see heated red cheeks as he mumbles something about having work to do and breezes past you out of the kitchenette.

You frown down at the steaming mug in front of you. He didn’t have to like what you wore but he didn’t need to be so dismissive. You decide to have a little fun with him today. If you have to be in the office, and you have to deal with his attitude, at least you can make him squirm.

Around noon you headed down to his office. You’d hiked up your shorts a little, just enough that it was debatable if you’d done it on purpose or if they had just ridden up from walking. Your top was already cut fairly low, but you tugged it down anyway, allowing another inch of cleavage to peak through.

The door to his office was slightly ajar, but you knocked on the wood anyway, polite even when your ultimate goal was to torture him a little. A distracted, “Come in,” came from inside, so you pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“I was just going to order some lunch,” you began, leaning against the door frame casually, knowing the angle would make your legs appear longer. “Did you want anything?”

Your plan was working. When he finally glanced up from the document he’d been poring over, his face went a shade paler. His eyes were locked onto your legs, traveling up the length of them before he remembered himself and snapped them up to meet your gaze.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied in a clipped tone, immediately looking back down at his work.

“Are you sure? You really shouldn’t skip lunch.” You frowned, standing up straight and crossing your arms. You might have been toying with him, but you also spent a good part of your regular work day worrying about the man also. He was here early, always the last to leave, and you knew for a fact that he frequently skipped meals in favor of working on a case.

The genuine concern in your tone made him look back up at you curiously, in turn making you realize that you’d strayed from your original goal. You uncrossed your arms, breasts jiggling with the motion, drying up whatever retort Higuruma had lined up on his tongue.

“I brought lunch today, but I appreciate the offer. Feel free to charge it to the company account though, since you’re working on a Sunday.” His tone was polite, the offer kind, but it was clearly a dismissal. Again, his eyes immediately went back to studying the words on the page in front of him.

With a shrug you turned on your heel, not catching the way his eyes followed your ass as you walked away, or the way he shook his head in annoyance at himself after you had disappeared.

Around two, he saw a blur of movement as you left the office, the tell-tale ding of the elevator confirming his suspicions. He let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know how much longer he could be in the office with you looking like that.

Higuruma thought of himself as a good, ethical man. He was someone who always wanted what was just and fair to be done. He paid his parking tickets on time, he tipped 30% or more even when it wasn’t expected, he didn’t even jaywalk.

And he definitely didn’t hit on his subordinates. No matter how beautiful, or intelligent, or witty they were. No matter how kind they were, no matter how they fussed over him, no matter how much his cock twitched when he saw even an inch of skin he wasn’t expecting.

No, Higuruma would never make the first move, no matter how sure he was that you felt the same magnetic pull between you.

He was still thinking about you when the elevator dinged again, indicating someone’s arrival. He frowned - who would be coming in at this hour on a Sunday?

You.

You hadn’t left, apparently. You had just popped out to the corner store for a snack. In one hand you had a small plastic bag, heavy with a drink and what looked like a couple of onigiri. Your other hand was holding a popsicle up to your mouth.

He prayed that you’d just keep walking past his office, but god was not on his side today, it seemed.

“Here,” you said before putting the popsicle in your mouth, holding it there while you used your now free hand to rummage around in the bag. You produced an onigiri and tossed it at him. He barely managed to catch it, fumbling it a little in his hands. The label said it was spicy tuna, his favorite.

“What’s this for?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. He tried to keep his eyes on your face, which was hard when you were sucking on the popsicle that way. How many times had he imagined you looking at him with your mouth full of…

“For playing baseball,” you responded drily. “What do you think it’s for?”

“I told you, I was fine,” he protested, holding the food out to you uselessly.

“I know you didn’t actually bring lunch,” you said with a scowl. “Eat.”

While the popsicle was out of your mouth, it melted enough to send a drop of red syrup dripping onto your right breast. You swiped at it with a finger and popped the digit into your mouth, then you licked up the side of the popsicle where the errant drip had come from.

He’s not sure he’s ever been harder in his life.

“Thank you.” He said stiffly, suddenly very interested in the wrapper of the onigiri in his hand. “I have some work I need to finish up. Is there anything else?”

You scoffed quietly, and he almost broke and looked up at you, but he instead turned to pretend to rummage in his desk for something.

“No, that’s all Mr. Higuruma,” you replied, matching the formality and stiffness of his tone. He heard your angry footsteps retreat down the hall, only allowing himself to let out a sigh once he heard your door shut just a little too loudly. He put his head in his hands, aware that he had upset you somehow. He had been too focused on not showing his attraction to you, not letting you in on his shameful secret, that he completely missed whatever he might have done to deserve such a reaction.

He’d have to talk to you later, but right now he needed to get his emotions and his dick under control.

You’d had a shockingly productive day, all things considered.

Really, you had thrown yourself into your work to try and forget about Higuruma making you feel… well, you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was you were feeling. At first you thought it was just anger at his dismissive behavior, but under the anger was deep embarrassment. It was the sting of romantic rejection, something you hadn’t considered when you started this little game.

You were attracted to him. You had always been able to admit that. But he was a good man, you thought, far too good to ever do something as scandalous as date an employee. Part of you had maybe hoped that it wasn’t anger but attraction on his part too that made him act so odd around you sometimes.

But you’d proven to yourself once and for all that it was, at the end of the day, disgust and annoyance with you as a person. You could continue to be professional - you were an adult, you had learned how to compartmentalize. But maybe you needed to keep your distance for a while.

This is how you ended up sitting in your office at 7 p.m., sun sinking slowly, casting your office in a wash of orange. You’d wrapped up everything you wanted to do plus a little extra in the hopes of avoiding Higuruma on your way out. You hadn’t heard him leave yet, but surely he had to be gone by now.

As it turned out, you had no such luck.

Two soft knocks sounded from the door. You lifted your head from where you’d had it resting on your arms as you tried to gather the strength to get up and brave the outside world. Higuruma was peering at you through the window to the side of your door, brow creased with concern.

“Come in,” you croaked out, throat sore from holding back tears. You refused to cry at the office.

“Are you alright?” He was talking before he had even taken a step into the office, walking toward you.

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache,” you lied, unable to hide the exhaustion in your voice.

“You should go home,” he pressed, hovering a few feet away from your desk, hands lifted like he wanted to help, but they dangled there uselessly as he realized he didn’t know how.

“I will. Did you need something?” You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but he was the last person on earth you wanted to talk to right now.

“No, I just…” He started a sentence, then paused, studying your face. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. When he opened them, his dark irises were fixed on yours in determination. “I feel like I upset you earlier, and I wanted to come and apologize.”

“No apology necessary, Mr. Higuruma. You haven’t done anything to upset me.” Another lie, bitter as it rolled off your tongue.

He said nothing, but continued staring at you, as if waiting for you to reveal the truth. You couldn’t stand to hold his gaze, your eyes shooting down to the documents in front of you. You started to rearrange the papers on your desk, just to have something to do with your hands, praying he didn’t notice your fingers shaking as you did.

He stepped forward, hands now moving with purpose to take the papers from you and set them down, forcing you to look up at him again.

“Please tell me what I’ve done wrong,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me. I’m willing to learn, I promise.”

“You want the truth?” You asked defiantly, suddenly ready to teach him the meaning of the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for.’

“Please,” he repeated. His melancholy gaze stayed on your face, giving him the appearance of a hound dog trying to understand why its master was angry.

“You need to get over whatever your hangup is with revealing outfits,” you said, crossing your arms, now meeting his stare with intensity he hadn’t expected. “It sucks that you treat me one way when I’m dressed modestly and another way when I dare to have a little more skin showing.”

“Is that… is that what you think it is?” He asked, suddenly a little amused. He had come in here ready to be scolded for ogling you, for making you uncomfortable with his obvious and unwanted attraction.

What a fascinating turn.

“Well… what else could it be?” You asked, scrunching your brows together in confusion.

“Let me put it to you this way,” Higuruma began softly, a half-smile playing around his lips. “Have you seen what Lisa the receptionist considers work appropriate?”

You cringed internally at the thought. Lisa, the receptionist who apparently didn’t need to sleep at all. She regaled you all with her tales of weeknight clubbing, and her taste in clothes showed it. Her skirts were short, her heels were high, and if she wasn’t showing cleavage, you could safely assume that it was because of hickies she didn’t want anyone to see (though she would absolutely show you without prompting if you had the misfortune of being in the bathroom with her at the same time).

“I mean, she looks fantastic,” you argued weakly, understanding where this was going.

“She does,” he agreed. “Have you ever seen me treat her differently because of what she was wearing?”

“Well… No,” you admitted, feeling your case fall apart in your hands.

“So why would you think that I’d treat you any differently?” He asked, still trying to get to the root of your anger.

“Because you do! Because whenever I wear something even slightly more scandalous than a pantsuit, you ignore me! It’s like I’m not even there!” Traitorous tears gathered along your lashline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Is it because you just don’t like me personally? Is it something I’ve done?” You voice wavered, breaking on the last word.

“Oh dear,” Higuruma said, mostly to himself, it seemed. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

“What are you talking about?” You sniffled, resisting the urge to grab a tissue. Somehow that felt like one pathetic step too far.

He said your name with a quiet fondness you hadn’t been expecting. “It’s not anything you’ve done, and it’s not your clothes. It’s my fault. I’ve been worse at hiding my feelings than I thought, it seems.”

“What do you mean?” You insisted. “If it’s not the clothes, what is it?”

He made his way around your desk, kneeling down penitently in front of you on the floor. He looked up at you with a sad smile. “Forgive me. In trying to conceal my attraction to you, it seems I’ve been terribly rude.”

Your ears fill with the sound of your own blood rushing through your veins, so loud that you almost miss what he says next.

“I completely understand if you don’t want to work with me any longer. I can rearrange the cases and make sure you don’t have to work on mine. I’ll keep my distance.” His gaze falls to the floor, shoulders following downward as he finishes.

“Higuruma,” you say breathlessly, hoping he’ll look up at you again. When he doesn’t, you lean forward in your chair, hands cupping his cheeks and making him look. There’s fear and longing and sadness all mixed together in his expression. His under eye circles even seem to have darkened in the time it took him to make his confession.

But there’s also kindness in those eyes. A desire to do what’s best for you and everyone else, no matter the personal cost to him. His proud nose casts a shadow on his face, half of it warmed by the golden light creeping through the window. He looked like a painting, a portrait of a man burning with desire just under a placid surface.

“What if I don’t want you to keep your distance?”

It’s a simple question. He has a law degree. But still he can’t quite parse what you’re saying. His brain short circuited the minute you put your hands on his face.

“What does that mean?” He whispered.

“It means…” You pause, carefully considering your words. “It means that maybe what got me so upset earlier was the idea that you would never want me the way I want you, Hiromi.”

Just as he thought he was getting his feet back under him, you’ve knocked them out again. It’s not just the idea that you want him too - he’d never heard you say his first name before. He’d never even allowed himself to imagine it. The way your tongue wrapped around it, tasting the syllables for the first time had him ready to combust.

“Say that again. Please.” He was breathless already, face warming under your palms.

“I want you,” you repeated, your gaze moving between his eyes and his lips, like you couldn’t decide where to look.

“Say it properly,” he begged, hands reaching up to take your face in his hands.

It took you a moment to understand the request, distracted by the way his thumbs rubbed against the apples of your cheeks. You were leaning down in your chair, and he was sitting tall on his knees, your lips mere inches apart.

But you got there eventually. “I want you, Hiromi,” you said again, both of you already moving to close that final distance.

The kiss was better than you ever could have fantasized about. His lips were warm and soft, immediately parting against yours desperately. His hold on you was firm, clutching you close. Your right hand migrated to the back of his head, digging into the dark hair there and pulling him closer.

His tongue darted out, swiping your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You sighed into the kiss, allowing him to push his tongue further, moving against your tongue like it was the last time he’d ever kiss someone.

You broke apart breathlessly, cheeks aflame. Your lips shone with a mix of your saliva and his, making him kiss you again and again, unable to stop himself now that he knew you wanted this too.

Your hands tugged desperately at his shoulders, pulling him to you. You made to kneel down on the ground with him, eager for more, but he stopped you. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him he’d tortured you this long, he could kiss you for another few minutes, but one look from him silenced you.

“Sit on the desk,” he commanded. You followed his directions, pushing aside your carefully-sorted piles haphazardly. He stood up and took his place between your parted thighs, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you to the very edge of the desk. You could feel his cock behind his trousers, hard as iron, pressing between your legs. You both gasped at the contact. The bike shorts might as well not have been there, for all they did to shield you from the blinding pleasure as he rutted against you desperately.

He leaned over you, caging you in, making you recline on your elbows as he continued to kiss you stupid. Breaths were taken in gasps, or while pressing your lips against each other’s necks, hot breath tickling sensitive hairs and sending you both into a frenzy all over again.

Hiromi broke the cycle, kissing down your neck, pulling the tanktop down to expose one perfect breast to him. He had never been a greedy man, never taking more than he needed at one time. His tongue flattened against your nipple, dragging slowly upward until the tip just caught on your hardening bud. He flicked his tongue with practiced ease, both of your nipples immediately standing at full attention, a fact he confirmed with his nimble fingers, tweaking the flesh beneath the thin top.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a satisfied smile. He knew he should stop. He’d gotten what he wanted. What if someone came in? What if there were cameras watching this whole thing? You had all the time in the world for this, why not wait until he could get you in private?

It wasn’t enough, he realized. He didn’t just need you here and now. He needed you to know you were his and he was yours. He needed to make up for lost time and avoidable heartache at his hand.

He had never been a greedy man, but you made him want to be. And now he needed to atone for his deadly sins.

He abandoned your breasts, both now popping out of the top of your shirt, slick with his spit, bruises blooming in the shape of his mouth against your soft skin. He began his descent again, sinking to his knees once more. He kissed along your ribs, pushing your shirt out of the way so he could mouth at the soft plush of your stomach, kissing and licking in a straight line from your naval down, down down.

He was tantalizingly close to his goal. Just as his lips were about to make contact with the outline of your pussy against the shorts, you stopped him with two hands in his hair.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly, gasping for air. Your head was spinning with desire, but not so much that you’d lost all sense.

“What is it? Do you not want this?” He panicked, standing up and taking a step back, hands up as a show of no ill intentions.

“No, I do,” you reassured him. “Very much so. But um, these shorts aren’t super breathable.”

He knew there was a reason you were bringing this up, but his mind was blank, focused solely on how he’d almost gotten to taste you after endless months of fisting his cock to mere fantasies. His face contorted with confusion, head cocking to the side as he tried to puzzle out your protest. You’d need to spell it out for him.

“I mean,” you started, cheeks flaring with color. “That I’m probably kind of sweaty down there. We can do that another time, I still want to do other-”

He cut you off mid-sentence with a relieved chuckle moving toward you once more. “That’s what you’re worried about? I thought you’d changed your mind.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he silenced you with a dizzying kiss, making you forget what you were going to say entirely.

“I’ve been thinking about you for too long,” he whispered, lips moving down your cheek and toward your ear to finish his thought. “Do you really think I’m going to let a little perspiration stop me?”

With that he slid one hand to the waistband of your shorts, pressing his palm flat against your belly. Just the very tips of his fingers dipped beneath the elastic. His eyes searched your face for any hesitation. Instead he found flushed cheeks, wide-eyed adoration, and a small nod.

He wasted no more time, pushing his hand under your shorts and panties, long middle finger immediately finding your clit and massaging it experimentally. You moaned loudly, head thrown back as he finally touched you where you’d been dreaming about. He sunk his hand down lower, fingertips just curling upward to brush at your entrance. You squirmed, hands gripping at his lapels as he leaned over you, teasing you, leaving sloppy kisses wherever his mouth could reach.

“Hiromi,” you panted, embarrassed at how tightly wound you were with so little foreplay.

Understanding the need lacing your tone, he removed his hand from your shorts, earning him a little whine of protest.

“Shhh,” he hushed you softly, lips pressing featherlight kisses to your neck as he peeled your shorts down, panties coming along for the ride. “Let me take care of you.”

He knelt before you again, taking a moment to palm his aching cock through his trousers, readjusting to give himself some kind of relief. Your knees had fallen shyly closed, afraid he might be able to see how a second heartbeat was now throbbing between your legs.

When he looked back up at you and noticed your embarrassment, he tsked quietly under his breath, bringing his palms up to the outside of your knees, caressing the skin there tenderly before moving them to your inner thighs. You provided no resistance as he pried your legs apart, enraptured by his face. He looked like he was opening a present.

His gaze fell to the sticky sheen between your thighs, pink tongue darting out involuntarily to wet his lips. He blew gently on your exposed cunt, savoring the way you twitched sensitively at the slightest stimulation. In a great show of willpower, he wrenched his eyes away from the heaven that awaited him between your thighs, focusing on your face. His breathing was shallow, hair mussed, pupils blown wide, the tips of his ears burning red.

With shaking hands, he grabbed the end of his tie, stuffing it between the fourth and fifth buttons on his shirt. You’d seen him do it countless times at lunch but you’d never thought of it in such a filthy context.

“I have never meant this more sincerely,” he began earnestly. You half expected some new confession, head dizzy with the possibilities. But his wet lips broke into a wicked grin as he finished his thought: “Itadakimasu.”

Humbly I receive.

You hadn’t finished processing the absolute filth that just came out of his mouth when his tongue met your clit. Like when he started on your nipples, his tongue was flat as it dragged slowly up your slit. You swear you’re so sensitive you can feel every ridge of every taste bud as he continues his slow lick.

And then the tip of his tongue is flicking upward, pushing your clit around in its hood. There’s no one else in the office, but you’re worried the moan you let out will reverberate off the walls for days, letting everyone know what you were doing in here with your boss.

He continues his assault with vigor. His tongue is everywhere, never staying in one place long enough to get used to it. He prods at your entrance, slipping just the tip of his tongue into your squeezing hole. Then he’s sucking your clit into his mouth, shaking his head back and forth, up and down as you come apart on the desk above him.

It’s all you can do to clutch onto his hair. He goes down to lick up the wetness creeping down, threatening to drip onto the desk, in the process catching the hooked tip of his nose on your sensitive button. One hand gripped the edge of the desk, the other holding him in place as you try not to cum immediately.

Hiromi could feel you holding back. “Don’t be stubborn,” he said, pulling away for a moment to kiss your thighs, smearing wetness all over them.

“You hurt my feelings,” you panted back. “Made me feel like I did something wrong. You’re going to have to work harder than that.”

In truth, you weren’t sure you could handle more before you imploded from pleasure. But the smirk he gave you from between your legs, the determination that hardened his eyes, they made you want to try to hold out just a little longer.

“Your wish is my command,” he said with a shrug.

His hands, which had been wrapped tenderly around your thighs as he devoured you, suddenly changed positions. He pushed one thigh open abruptly, spreading you for him even further. His other hand had come up to his mouth. He slowly put his middle and ring fingers in his mouth, withdrawing them and holding them up so you could admire the orange light reflecting off of his spit-slick fingers.

He kept his eyes fixed on yours as he lowered his fingers to your waiting pussy, burying them to the knuckle in your warmth. Your teeth sank into your lower lip, trying hard not to be the first to break eye contact. He moved his fingers in and out slowly a few times.

Suddenly he curved his fingers upward, pressing on a spongy spot that had you seeing stars. Your head shot back, eyes closed, arching into his touch. He chuckled before lowering his head again, sucking your clit into his mouth, fingers still assaulting you from the inside.

It was all too much. You tried to say his name, but all that came out was a broken cry as heat pooled in your belly. You felt like a star collapsing in on itself under its own weight, the overwhelming pleasure condensing into a single spot. And then, like all dying stars, you were reborn. The warmth spread back out to your limbs as you trembled against him, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers as he worked you through each wave of your orgasm.

When you were done, he removed his fingers, standing up to kiss you once again. His clean hand found the back of your head, urging you to taste yourself on his lips.

“I’ve never cum that hard in my life,” you panted raggedly, resting your forehead against his.

He nuzzled his nose gently against the side of yours. “Always happy to be of service.”

Having caught your breath, your hand reached down between his legs, eyebrows shooting up at the generous bulge. Experimentally, you rubbed his erection. He bucked his hips into your touch, groaning and clutching at your hips.

“It’s your turn,” you whisper seductively, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I need to be inside you,” he said bluntly, desperation barely contained. “Please.”

“Then why are you still wearing those?”

He needed no further instruction, kicking his shoes off, along with his black pants and the underwear beneath.

“Oh my god,” you gasped involuntarily.

“What?” Hiromi asked with a frown, looking down at his exposed member. He examined it, wondering what was wrong.

“It’s… Hiromi, you’re beautiful,” you responded, eyes sparkling. Your tone was sincere, full of wonder. You felt lucky that you got to see him like that,l.

“Stop that,” he said. The sunset had now shifted to soft pink hues, making it impossible to tell if he was blushing.

“I mean it,” you insisted. You reached a hand out, taking hold of him and gently pulling him closer to you. He followed without complaint. There was a faint, wet squelch as his fat head slid against the wetness that had only grown between your legs, and you moaned in unison.

“Don’t tease,” he gasped.

You were rocking your hips shallowly, passing the sensitive underside of his tip over your clit over and over again. He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard, hoping the pain would distract him and keep him from spilling all over your mound. He couldn’t stand the embarrassment of cumming before he’d even gotten inside you.

“Need you, Hiromi. Please.” You pleaded with him as if it wasn’t your fingertips keeping him pressed against you just so, like you weren’t the one torturing both of you.

“C-condom?” He asked. Even as his hand batted yours away, lining himself up against you, his final neuron reminded him of the very real possibility of pregnancy and disease.

“I need to feel you,” you gasped. “Please. I have an IUD. I haven’t been with anyone since my last screening and it was clear. Hiromi I need you to fuck me right now, please, just-”

One second you were begging for him, the next you were so full you thought you might burst. He had seated himself inside of you in one fluid motion, his mouth and fingers having prepared the way. Even so, there was a foreign stretch, stinging and delicious, that you’d missed after all these months alone.

“Hiromi,” you whined, grabbing onto his arms. They were planted on the desk, supporting his weight as he tried to process the feeling of finally being inside of you. You looked down at where you met, the thick thatch of hair on his pelvis just pressing against your clit. You knew that if you rocked your hips just a little, you could grind on it and-

“Stop.” The word came out through gritted teeth. “Unless you want this to be over very quickly, just… give me a second.”

You warmed with pride at the reminder of what it was like to feel wanted. Maybe the light of the sinking sun had you seeing la vie en rose, but every part of Hiromi’s body showed how much he ached for you.

You saw it in the clenching muscle of his jaw, working overtime as he struggled to contain himself. You saw it in the indents in your thighs where his fingers dug in, desperate to keep a hold on you and his sanity. You saw it in his soft belly, tensing with the effort of keeping his hips still inside of you. To be so wholly desired by him after convincing yourself he hated you, it was almost better than any pleasure he could offer you.

And then he started moving his hips.

He started slowly at first, pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in. Like waves on the sea, his movements were steady and consistent. Each stroke came with a crash of hips, pleasure spreading over your bodies like fine ocean mist.

You looked up at him, kiss-bitten lips hanging wide in a soundless moan, too overwhelmed to even make a sound. Your eyes were big and wet, silently pleading with him to keep going. You spread your legs wider, bucking your hips up weakly against his, taking him even deeper.

Something in him snapped and he pushed all the way in, deeper than you even thought possible. From this position, he draped your legs over his arms, hands slipping around your back to hold you by your waist. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, holding yourself up for him. He gave your waist one last gentle squeeze before he started fucking you in earnest.

He was pistoning his hips against yours, in and out, in and out. He was only pulling back a few inches, but you were angled in such a way that every time he slammed back into you, he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you. He pushed a series of staccato little moans out of you, or maybe it was one long moan broken up as he drove the air from your lungs with every snap of his hips.

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whined breathlessly, one hand coming between the two of you to play with your clit, hoping to get you the rest of the way there before he finished.

“I told you to let me take care of you,” he said in faux annoyance, batting your hand away. He licked his thumb, as though you were lacking in lubrication, and lowered it, drawing tight, fast circles against your clit.

Instantly you tightened around him, sucking him in even deeper as you moaned and writhed.

“Oh god. I’m gonna cum. Please come with me, Hiromi, please. Please.” You continued to babble as you finished, just barely keeping your eyes open long enough to watch Hiromi’s face as he followed you off the cliff. He pumped deep into you several more times, spilling his seed against your cervix, twitching over and over again until he was spent.

When he could think again, he pulled you close for a kiss, barely containing a hiss at the overstimulation at the movement. You kissed him back with teeth and tongue and passion.

“Still think I hate you?” He asked as he broke away, smiling in happiness and exhaustion.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” you replied with a sniff. “I think you still have to prove to me beyond a reasonable doubt that you like me.”

“I need a short recess, but I’m happy to give you another oral argument. Plead my case a little more.” He pulled out of you, ready to kneel again and clean up the mess he made. Anything to prove to you that he was serious.

“I think the defense also needs to rest,” you laughed, wiping sweat from your brow. “Can I ask one favor, though?”

“Absolutely anything,” he replied, planting several kisses on your forehead as you giggled.

“Can you give me a ride home? I know it’s out of your way, but I don’t really want to take public transportation like this.” You gestured down to your thighs, still sticky with your combined efforts, and your shorts, which would surely show such a wet stain. You smiled up at him bashfully, working your lip nervously between your teeth.

“I was offering to lick my cum out of you and you’re worried I’m going to say no to giving you a ride home because it’s a little out of my way?” He asked with a chuckle.

“On second thought, I’ll take my chances,” you responded, blushing furiously.

“Hey, come on. Surely you don’t still have doubts after what we just did?” He leaned in close again, pressing his lips to your forehead as you burned with embarrassment.

“Everything just changed so fast,” you murmured, closing your eyes and basking in his touch. “I don’t know what we are. I don’t want you to think you owe me anything.”

“I think at the very least I owe you a ride home and a warm meal,” he began, pulling away and producing a handkerchief from the inner pocked of his suit jacket. He wiped away the worst of the mess covering your inner thighs. He let himself be selfish, savoring the sight of his cum leaking out of you for a brief moment before continuing to dress you, pulling up your underwear and shorts with a tenderness that made your stomach flip.

He stepped aside to allow you to stand, folding the handkerchief and using the clean side to (begrudgingly) wipe away the remnants of your arousal that still stuck to his fingers and face. With clean hands, he pulled up his own pants, securing the buckle before turning to ask if you were ready to go.

The question died in his throat as he appraised you. Your hair was tousled, shirt still askew, and he could see the wet spot forming between your legs where he was dripping out of you. His cock sprang back to life at a speed he hadn’t known since he was much younger.

“I was serious, you know,” he said throatily, the sultry tone causing you to freeze in place. You looked at his face, then followed his eyes between your legs where the fabric darkened with moisture. “Let me clean you up before we go.”

“Hiromi,” you chastised him unconvincingly, your sore, sensitive cunt already pulsing again between your legs, begging you to give in to this wild man’s demands.

“Fine, fine,” he said sulkily, turning away from you to regain his composure. He knew his erection wouldn’t subside, not as long as you were within ten feet of him, but he could at least get himself a little more under control. He smoothed his hair back, keeping the tremor out of his voice through sheer willpower when he spoke again. “I would like to alter the list of things I owe you, though.”

“You don’t owe me anything, you silly man. I told you that,” you laughed, swatting at his arm as you passed him on the way to the door. “But go on.”

He grabbed your arm, turning you back toward him. In the same motion, he moved forward, pushing you back against the closed door. His chest was flush against yours, his still-hard cock pressing dangerously against your belly.

“I owe you a ride home.” He kissed your forehead. “I owe you a warm meal.” He kissed your cheek, then moved his lips next to your ear. “And I owe you at least one more orgasm.” He sunk his teeth into your earlobe, relishing then whine you couldn’t keep contained.

“Absolutely filthy,” you groaned, pressing the back of your head against the door. “No use arguing with a lawyer like you, I suppose?”

“None at all, I’m afraid,” he said with a genuine smile, pressing his lips to yours one final time before opening the door, taking your hand, and pulling you toward the elevator like a giddy schoolboy.

[greenleaf4stuff]

In Good Hands (Of Convenience – Random Bits 2)

(all other parts of my "Of Convenience" verse) (my other TROP fanfics)

F/F aka Femslash, Fluff, Humor. Of Convenience AU, Mirdania/Gurlak-centric (my female uruk smith OC) for TROP Cozy Cuddles Week 2025. Set during of In Convenience (pre Chapter 5) and Inconvenienced. (The main fic itself is silverscars focused, but the pairing is only mentioned in this installment.)

So how exactly *did* Gurlak and Mirdania meet and build towards a friendship (and more) in my Of Convenience verse? A little glimpse into a progression of their relationship, told via a run-in almost-hug and two proper hugs.

Note: In the main fic, their relationship is portrayed as a friendship, but this is (in part) due to the fact that Adar and Celebrimbor are very much out of the loop. :P

Did not expect to ever write an F/F story for this fandom, nor a canon character/OC story, but here we are! I really wanted these two to become friends ever since I first wrote Gurlak into the story, since they are both smiths and yet so very different from one another. And then I got the idea of them interacting and began to think about what a romantic relationship between them would be like and - let’s just say this event is a great excuse to write some of it down. A big Thank You to @rivendellwatch for this lovely event, once again! <3 (Also please excuse any typos etc, I finished this fic on Saturday, edited half of it and used today to edit the rest.)

(Tagging @eowyn7023, @themalhambird, @janacariad, @itwillbeourswansong, @illegalcerebral and @acenby1999 as requested <3)

For those of you who want to read the fic on AO3, here is the link! <3 Enjoy!

Mirdania supposed it made sense, that she’d been asked to be part of the group that was sent to the orc – no, uruk, they called themselves uruk – camp to help with the sun tarps.

Sure, most of the other elves that had been asked were much taller than her, which was ideal for putting up the tarps and tying them to the existing structures, but almost none of them had interacted with the uruk before. Aside from Celebrimbor himself, only Mirdania had, though very briefly.

She still remembered how confused she’d been, when High King Gil-Galad and Commander Galadriel had marched into the forge, accompanied by two dozen uruk soldiers, weapons drawn at Annatar, calling him by the name Sauron.

It was not that she hadn’t suspected by then that the other wasn’t who he claimed himself to be. The way he’d changed after Celebrimbor’s disappearance from Eregion, which was in truth an escape, had shown her as much.

Having confirmation had been an entirely different thing, however. Though it did explain how the elves and the uruk had joined forces in the first place. Mirdania guessed that few other threats might have accomplished such a feat.

What she had been even more surprised by, was the willingness of one of the soldiers, whom she later on found out to be called Glug, to pull her from the forge and urge her to run. It had cost him dearly, his moment of carelessness, sending him tumbling down the stairs with a wound to the side.

Of course she had rushed after him – that blow had been meant for her, she was certain of it. And no matter how much she feared the orcs and their forces, this one had saved her.

Bringing him back to his people had still taken a bit of bravery, even after Celebrimbor himself had arrived and encouraged her to do so. She supposed being given the chance to get away from Sauron might have played a part in her willingness to do it anyways.

The uruk had been intimidating, but kinder than expected.; not only had they cared for Glug, they had also let her stay and treated her not like a former enemy, but someone they trusted. Her bringing in the wounded soldier was part of it, certainly, but also her mention of working with Celebrimbor himself.

Which had been another surprise, finding out that the uruk considered him not just as an important ally, but valued him for his bravery, his skills, and apparently, the way he’d managed to steer their leader in a a new direction. Away from besieging Eregion, as had been the original plan. She shuddered to even think about what that would have entailed for her and her peers.

Mirdania was lost in thought as she and the others neared the uruk camp, which was perhaps why she ended up not minding her step – and suddenly finding herself running into another person as she walked into the camp proper and made to turn a corner.

Twin 'oofs' could be heard, and the blonde elf was certain she would soon make an aquaintance with the ground due to just how solid the other person she’d just run into had been, only to find herself being caught and steadied before she could fall.

As the world spun around her for a moment, Mirdania reached out and grabbed whatever she could to get her bearings. Her hands found not one, but two strong biceps, so wide and muscular that her fingers did not even span half of them.

If that wasn’t enough, the hands that steadied her also were so wide and large that they easily caught her around her hips to keep her upright, as if she weighed hardly anything at all. She was almost certain that at one point, none of her own strength had been responsible for keeping her standing.

Through a few strands of blonde hair that had fallen into her face due to the collision, Mirdania looked up again, ready to apologize, only to find herself face to face with an uruk. That was, the uruk was so broad in build that there was hardly anything else she could look at from her own height. She had seen dwarves with leaner backs than this one.

The other looked at her with a look of surprise, but also, she found honest concern reflected on their face.

"You alright?" the other asked, and Mirdania realized with a start that this was a female uruk. She also couldn’t help but notice that the other was wearing a leather apron – different than the ones the elf and the other assistants in Celebrimbor’s employ wore, certaintly, as it was made out of a several large, patchworked pieces of leather and was held up by what might have once been parts of a bridle.

Could this be...a smith?

The elf found herself flabbergasted for a moment, before she managed to close her mouth and stutter out a response. "I uh- yes, yes I am," and then, as she realized that she had been the one to walk into the other and still had not apologized for it, "I am terribly sorry, I was just lost in thought- are you okay as well?"

The other looked as if not even an autumnal storm could move her if she didn’t wish it, but it couldn’t hurt to be polite and ask. Especially since the other didn’t seem the least bit annoyed or even bothered by having been run into.

The uruk looked at her in clear surprise, eyebrows raised before she slowly nodded. "I’m unharmed, don’t you worry," she replied, and after another small pause, continued to ask, "Do you think you can stand on your own?"

Mirdania blinked, and then realized that the other was still keeping her steady. And that she was still holding onto the uruk’s forearms. She looked down and felt her own eyes widen at the sight that presented itself to her – the uruks’s arms felt like solid rock in her grasp, but seeing them up close was somehow even more impressive. Especially so since elves, no matter their strength, did not typically look like this.

She also realized another thing, namely, that the uruk still had her hands around Mirdania’s waist; her hold had been so gentle that the elf hadn’t even been aware of it.

Her hands were indeed so large and broad that they did, in fact, encircle Mirdania’s whole waist. They looked almost like a wide belt, the way they were positioned, a nice contrast against her own, more delicate figure.

To her shock and mortification, Mirdania felt a thrill run through her at the thought.

No, no, no, absolutely not, this was neither the time nor the place-

And also, she still hadn’t answered the uruk’s question. She only hoped the other wouldn’t think lesser of her, with how ungainly and slow she was, both in movement and thought, at this moment.

Mirdania cleared her throat, somehow managed to tear her gaze away from the hands on her hips, and looked up at the uruk again. Whose eyes were quite intense. The same way she’d seen her leader, Adar, look at times. "I um- I think I can, yes. Thank you for- not letting me fall into the dirt," she said, and righted herself as the uruk slowly losened her hold on her.

"Sure," the other replied, and took a half-step back as she released Mirdania, first one hand, then the other, as if to be certain she truly was ready to stand on her own. Mirdania, similarly, was slow to take her own hands back from the other’s arms, and found her fingers rubbing together, tingling with the phantom sensation of the muscles and thick veins that she’d been touching.

The female uruk hooked her thumbs into the straps holding up her apron, forearms bulging as she continued to look at Mirdania. "You’re with the elves who’ve come for the sun tarps, aren’t you?" she asked.

Remembering her initial reason for coming into the camp, Mirdania stood up straight and did her best to pull her robes back into place, in order to look presentable. She was here on Eregion’s and Lord Celebrimbor’s behalf, after all. Making a good impression might be a little difficult after what had just happened, but she’d still make an effort. "Yes, I am. I was chosen because I was in this camp already, in fact-"

"Yeah, I remember," the uruk unexpectedly said. Mirdania felt her eyebrows raise as the other continued. "You brought in Glug, that day when Adar and the elves killed him, didn’t you?"

The elf stopped and stared, before realizing that she’d met this uruk before – in a full set of armor, and behaving much differently than she did now. Which might have been why the elven smith hadn’t recognized her. "You were the commander who questioned Glug when we stumbled into the camp."

"Not a commander, but close enough. Adar calls us lieutenants," the uruk explained, and pulled a face. "Though I must admit I’d much rather forge weapons than wield them, if I can help it."

And then she cleared her throat, and also stood up a little straighter, legs firmly planted as she looked Mirdania. "The name’s Gurlak, by the way. And whenever we aren’t short on lieutenants and do not need to chaperone an elven lord, I am actually a blacksmith."

Mirdania felt her curiosity overcome her embarrassment, as her eyes widened and she leant slightly closer towards the uruk in interest. The other seemed a tad surprised at the motion. "So you are indeed a smith as well!" only to catch herself and explain, "I – the leather apron and the toolbelt gave it away."

The other stared at her incredulously for a moment, blinking, before she tilted her head and asked, "Are you saying that you are a smith, too?"

Mirdania nodded. "Yes. In fact, I am one of Lord Celebrimbor’s assistants. I have been working with him for over a century, by now." She was rather proud of that, in fact. Not just because it was a huge honor for any smith to work with someone as talented and skilled as him, but because it had been an almost life-long dream of hers to do so, and she still cherished the opportunity every single day.

She winced, slightly, thinking back on how Annatar- no, Sauron, had been the only thing, the only person, to ever make her doubt her chosen path. Looking back, it almost felt as if she was looking on the actions of someone else, so much had the Deceiver managed to turn her against her own leader. The one she admired, and considered a friend.

Thankfully, she could not linger on these dark thoughts for long, when she heard Gurlak snort and study Mirdania from head to toe with the same, incredulous expression she had been wearing as the elf had revealed her profession. "Huh. Looks like you elves all are this...fragile looking, then," she explained. "I thought it was just Adar’s elf being an exception for looking so...willowy."

Mirdania blinked and then frowned in confusion, before she looked down her own form, and then back up at Gurlak. "Fragile looking?" The blonde elf understood that she did not have the same build as Gurlak did, or most of the uruk, who were trained for battle. But she didn’t look frail.

"You barely look as if you could hold up a hammer," Gurlak replied, shrugging, "Your lord is much the same way. I openly doubted his claims of being a smith when he and I first met."

Mirdania had been ready to argue that not everyone was built like a barrel, and especially not elves, and that she could give the other a demonstration of her strength and skill just fine, when-

"You- you thought Celebrimbor wasn’t-," she stammered, the very thought almost too absurd to entertain. "...Did you tell him as much?"

Gurlak nodded. The Mirdania’s surprise, she then rubbed the back of her neck and looked a little sheepish as she stared off to the side, free hand on her hip as she shifted her stance. "In my defense, I did not know who he was at the time. I only knew he was Adar’s elf- Adar’s husband," she corrected herself. "And as I said, he looked neither convincingly lord-like nor like a smith. Ours tend to look more like me," and she motioned at her own build.

Mirdania was stunned. "That...that must have been. Quite the discovery," she felt almost sympathetic. She still remembered how awestruck she’d been, when she realized that her friend and mentor had been the Celebrimbor, son of Curufin, grandson of Feanor himself.

Granted, she had not even reached maturity back then, but still.

Gurlak nodded, and then she grinned, "Oh, it was," and then she jerked her head towards the camp and turned half into the direction that Mirdania had intended to go. "I can tell you about it while we go over to join the others, if you’d like,…?"

She paused, and looked back at the elf, letting the sentence hang unfinished between them as if waiting for something. Mirdania, thankfully, seemed to have recovered enough to grasp at her unspoken question easily.

"Mirdania. My name is Mirdania," she explained, and then added with a look of consternation, "Apologies, I should have introduced myself right alongside you. My manners today are atrocious."

The other laughed, startling the blonde elf, who looked at Gurlak with yet more confusion. "Ah, don’t you worry. Considering how things used to be between our people, this is more than fine. I don’t mind," Gurlak explained, and then motioned for Mirdania to follow her as she walked up ahead. The elf was quick to try and catch up.

"So, when me and Celebrimbor first met, he really wanted to work in a forge again. Any forge, really. He was pretty desperate – called me Mistress Gurlak even. I feared he might sink to his knees and beg next-," the uruk started as they walked.

"Lord Celebrimbor wouldn’t beg," Mirdania insisted, only for Gurlak to look sideways at her and smirk.

"Yeah, you are right. But it was a pretty close thing-"

They spent the rest of the way to where the sun tarps would be erected talking back and forth, Gurlak gossiping about how Celebrimbor forgot the time and had to be retrieved by Adar as he worked in her forge, only for Mirdania to add that this had been a problem before him fleeing Eregion already, after which the two would exchange funny anecdotes about Adar and Celebrimbor respectively, and eventually end up discussing forgework, with both bantering back and forth about who of them might fashion the better, heavier weapons or the more intricate jewelry.

Safe to say, between their shared profession and the fact that they both worked quite closely with their respective leaders, the two ended up working together a few more times. Time passed far too quickly in each instance, to the point that the two often stayed behind when the others had already left to continue talking.

Gurlak would meet some of the other elven smiths, including the new apprentice, Nethiel, while Mirdania found herself being introduced to the other uruk smiths, most of which were Gurlak’s assistants. Soon, it stopped mattering whether one was an elf or an uruk, and only that they had a shared craft and interest in forgework.

One day, Gurlak and Mirdania had met in Eregion, only for Gurlak to stand beneath the forge tower and look up at it with an appreciative glance. The damaged roof was almost fully repaired by then, and the smithy itself in the process of being rebuilt as well – so hopefully, it would not remind Mirdania, Celebrimbor and the others of the time Annatar had resided there.

"The view from up there must be quite something," the uruk remarked as she studied the tower. Her tone was almost awed.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Mirdania suggested, "Do you want to go up there? Once the forge is finished?"

Gurlak seemed surprised, but when she looked at Mirdania, she smiled and nodded. "That would be nice."

Mirdania, who found herself enjoying Gurlak’s sparkling eyes and open smile far more than she had anticipated, quickly nodded back at her. "I’ll let you know when the reconstruction is finished. And then take you up there."

"Can I tag along too?" came a tentative voice from the side, with both Gurlak and Mirdania looking over to see that Nethiel had overheard their conversation, and was wearing a hopeful smile as she moved from one foot to the other. The apprentice had just joined the other smiths that worked with Celebrimbor, taking the spot of the late Taminor, and was rather eager to make some friends – uruk and elven alike.

"Of course," Mirdania confirmed, right as Gurlak said, "Sure, go ahead," only for the two of them to stare at each other and chuckle.

Nethiel looked between the two of them with an expression Mirdania couldn’t quite read. "On second thought, you really don’t have to-"

"Nonsense, feel free to tag along," Gurlak insisted, ever jovial despite her gruff demeanor. "It’ll be fun, to see what you lot have to say about this grand forge of yours." And then she patted Mirdania on the back, looking at her with a lopsided grin. "I’m going to go back to camp for the day. We’ll see each other tomorrow?"

"I certainly hope so!" Mirdania said, and gave Gurlak a grin of her own. "We do still have something to settle, after all."

Gurlak barked out a laugh. "By all means, be my guest. I still think it’s more likely I can make you some nice trinkets than for you to make an uruk weapon."

It had been a good-natured point of contention between the two of them for the last few days, with both of them being quite determined to prove the other wrong.

"You’ll eat your words tomorrow," Mirdania insisted, and felt her grin widen as Gurlak raised her eyebrows at the blonde’s choice of words in appreciation. Might be that the uruk had rubbed off on her, just a little bit.

"We’ll see about that," Gurlak replied, and then made to go.

Mirdania, out of an impulse that she could not explain – but wasn’t particularly concerned about indulging –, quickly stepped forward before the other could leave, reached up and she drew Gurlak into a hug. The other smith, who was usually quick to pat other people’s shoulders and back during conversations, stilled for only a moment, before she wrapped a careful arm around the elf’s waist and did indeed pat her back in response, though much more lightly than she would with her fellow uruk.

"I’ll see you tomorrow, then," Mirdania replied, and then added, "Get some good sleep. You’re gonna need it."

She felt a little giddy, when she drew back again and saw that Gurlak’s eyebrows had wandered up even further than they previously had. A motion that reminded the elf of Celebrimbor.

"Quite confident of your win, are you?" Gurlak replied, and then shook her head with a huff. Her smile turned oddly soft as she continued, "Take care of yourself as well. Till tomorrow."

She motioned to go, before she gave a nod and said a short goodbye to Nethiel as well, and then she was moving towards the gates.

Mirdania, who embarrassingly had almost forgotten about the apprentice, turned towards her, only to find the younger elf giving her a very peculiar look that she couldn’t quite place. "Anything the matter?" she asked with open confusion.

Nethiel continued to look at her for a short moment, before she shook her head and smiled, "No, nothing. I was just thinking how nice it is that more elves and uruk than just Lord Celebrimbor and the Lord Father are beginning to build friendships with each other, is all."

The way she put emphasis on 'friendship' made Mirdania think that there was something the blonde wasn’t quite aware of, or that the other deliberately left unspoken, but the elven smith couldn’t quite figure out what exactly that might be. She decided to take it as Nethiel being a bit awkward, perhaps, and simply smiled as she nodded. "That is very true. It is quite remarkable how far we’ve come together already, isn’t it?"

She still couldn’t parse why Nethiel continued to look at her so strangely, and the apprentice remained frustratingly vague when Mirdania attempted to question her further.

The three did have a bit of bad luck, trying to get into the smithy one late evening only a few weeks later; walking in on Adar and Celebrimbor, who had been talking quietly among themselves, standing together as if they’d just been about to kiss – and who knows what else – had not been something they had expected.

Though, the accident had leant itself quite well for gossiping among the uruk, and as a result, Celebrimbor’s assistants as well. If he hadn’t been so stressed over the preparations for the wedding feast, Mirdania would have pitied the older elf for the grins and giggles exchanged in the days immediately after.

As it was, he was far too involved with other matters to even notice, and so she was simply grateful he did not bring up the incident again and, unspokenly, agreed with him not to mention it.

She did, however, try again a few days later, when she’d overheard the other elven leaders giving the two husbands a day or two to have some time to themselves. Nethiel had claimed to be busy while throwing Mirdania yet another look she couldn’t parse, and so that left just the blonde elf and Gurlak to return to the forge tower a second time, again late in the evening.

This time, they didn’t run into anyone – the forge was deserted when they entered it, and was utterly quiet as a result. Mirdania had brought a lantern, and was the one to open the door and hold it open for the uruk smith to enter.

Now that they had time to take in the rebuilt forge at their own leisure, Gurlak seemed quite impressed with it. "Your forges do look quite different from ours," she remarked, as she looked at the large space with an appreciative glance, and went over to the tools, weighing them in her hands with obvious admiration.

Mirdania had seen the uruk forges in the camp, and had also heard Celebrimbor discuss them with his own builders at times; the uruk had made do with what they could scavenge and gather for centuries, and it showed in every aspect of their lives. The blonde elf bit her lip as she saw Gurlak look at everything with a look of open awe, the way Mirdania herself had when she’d been much younger, and permitted to visit a forge with Celebrimbor for the first time.

She was glad that he, too, found the state of things to be quite unacceptable, and was planning to help the uruk both with the construction of new, better smithies, as well as giving them materials and tools to use in them. And, as he’d apparently offered Gurlak, by sharing his own expertise, if she and the others wished it. Gurlak had seemed quite giddy as she recounted the conversation to Mirdania.

The blonde elf decided in that moment that she, too, would try and help with that endeavor. Gurlak had obvious passion for her craft, and while elves and uruk approached their creations quite differently, it was obvious that she could get great results with what she was given. As a fellow smith, Mirdania wanted her to have the chance to excel at her profession, and be afforded the same opportunities she herself had had.

Pondering this, she noticed Gurlak looking at her, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. "Everything alright? You’re not tired, are you?" The question was asked in a lighthearted, humorous manner, but there was honest concern underneath. It encompassed the uruk smith as a person quite aptly, in Mirdania’s opinion.

She smiled and quickly shook her head. "No, no, just- you remind me of myself, back when I stepped into a forge similar to this for the first time, is all," she said. "But enough of the reminiscing. I promised I’d show you this place, after all. What do you want to see first?"

She had no idea how long they spent, going over everything, from the forge itself to the tools, the worktables, the various sketches and scrolls, and even the murals that had been painted onto the walls. Gurlak and Mirdania took delight in chuckling over Adar’s and Celebrimbor’s mural, and what they’d heard about their love confession, with Gurlak’s humor putting Mirdania at ease once more.

Once they had finished, the blonde elf turned towards the balcony doors, where she’d seen Gurlak peak from time to time. "You seem to be quite eager to see the view from up here as well. Shall we go outside?"

"That would be great, yes," Gurlak said, and barely hid her excitement behind her humor. "That was the original reason we came here, after all, if I recall correctly."

"Apologies for holding you up with boring forge talk, then," Mirdania quipped back, but her smile was gentle and she winked as she said it, causing Gurlak to laugh while Mirdania stepped over and opened the door, before motioning the uruk smith to step outside with a flourish.

"Heh, nah, no worries. I found it surprisingly interesting," the other replied with a grin of her own, and affected an almost-bow before she stepped outside, Mirdania soon following behind her.

The sight from up so high was indeed very beautiful; Mirdania and Celebrimbor had been up on this balcony before, back when the older elf had shown the Ithildin to her for the first time. While their talk itself was a welcome memory, it was still tainted by the fact that Sauron himself had been standing down by the gate, looking up at them, even then casting a long shadow over Eregion.

Thankfully, Mirdania could not linger on that for long, as Gurlak made an appreciative noise and stepped up to the balustrade, hands on it as she looked over Ost-In-Edhil, which was a sea of green, white, gold clothed in the deep blue of night, studded with countless small, orange dots; hundreds of little flames from lanterns and candles lighting the city.

The elf soon stepped up and similarly leaned on the balustrade to Gurlak’s side, smiling as she saw the other take in the city lights. "That is a pretty great view," the uruk said, sounding deeply approving as she looked around.

"The city is indeed quite beautiful like this," Mirdania agreed, and then gently nudged the other smith’s arm, who turned towards her. Jerking up her chin, the blonde lifted her eyes to the sky, "But further up is an even more impressive sight."

Looking up, there were countless twinkling stars above them, thousands, set against a blanket of a deep, dark night sky, unobstructed by any clouds. The moon had to be somewhere behind the tower, as Mirdania couldn’t quite see it from her position, but its light fell over the city as well, a contrast to the little flames that shone below.

"Indeed, it is," Gurlak said, an unexpected tone to her voice. When Mirdania looked at her again, the uruk wasn’t looked at the sky at all, but at her.

A thrill ran through her at the realization. But did the other really- could she- surely she wasn’t-?

The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, and Mirdania found herself faltering, as she smiled and looked up at the stars again, even as she asked herself what she was doing.

Flustered, she pointed at the first star she recognized, and began to tell Gurlak about it. The uruk remained quiet, did not pry, and soon, they were both talking about the constellations they could make out, with the other smith once again using her skill at humor to make Mirdania laugh – it seemed she always found a cluster of stars that had a particularly funny shape, and she was determined to point all of them out to the elf.

"That looks like an anvil," she claimed, as both of them stood and had to look straight up at an uncomfortable angle, "How can you not see it? Look, that star over there-"

"It looks like a saddle," Mirdania insisted, and turned, once again, in the hopes of finding a better angle, before she leant against the wall. She’d been up and on her feet all day, and her legs were beginning to crave a chance to sit down.

"Uh-huh. Sure," Gurlak replied, but as Mirdania looked at her, that look of concern from earlier was back on her face. "You look uncomfortable. Wanna go back?"

Mirdania quickly shook her head. "No, not at all, it’s just – my legs are a bit tired, is all," she tried to reassure the other.

Gurlak looked a tad surprised, before she looked at the point where the tower wall met the balcony, and simply said, "Why don’t we sit down, then?" As if it was the most obvious thing to do. Perhaps to her, it was, considering she was still wearing her work clothes – it seemed to only have one set of spare clothes, if Mirdania wasn’t mistaken.

"On the floor?" Mirdania asked, confused, only for Gurlak to nod at her. "But- that is-"

"All of this city looks very clean, and there’s not a lot of people up here anyways. We’ll be fine," Gurlak said and, true to her words, went over, leant against the wall, and slid to the floor, one knee propped up and the other leg outstretched, quickly placing an arm onto that raised knee as well.

Mirdania herself remained standing, torn between her sense of propriety – and a slight worry for her dress –, and the desire to sit down for a moment.

Her thoughts came to a halt when Gurlak motioned her over with a jerk of her head. "Come, Mirdania. If you’re so concerned for your dress, I can give you my leather apron to sit on-," and then she made to take it off, only for the elven smith to hold up her hands and quickly step towards her.

"Oh no, that is very kind of you, but not neccessary at all-" she said to the other. Gurlak gave her a dubious glance, which ultimately made the decision for the elf to walk over.

"Alright," Gurlak replied, slow, and then continued, "Tell you what, how about you sit between my legs? You can lean back against me. It’ll be a lot more comfortable."

Once again, Mirdania stopped. Gurlak looked surprisingly hopeful, sitting at her feet, looking up at the elven smith – which didn’t happen very often, considering the other was of greater size than her – and no ounce of humor in her voice.

The blonde elf had the same feeling she’d felt earlier, as Gurlak had looked at her. Again, she threatened to fluster, to argue that she was fine as she was, she wasn’t a lady who needed to be pampered, she could sit on the floor, truly, except-

No.

Had she not been among those who had – fondly – rolled their eyes at the fact that Adar and Celebrimbor had needed so long, both to realize their own feelings and act on them? Hadn’t she thought that, if she ever even had a chance to have a piece of what they had, she’d grasp it with both hands and hold onto it, especially so after surving the return of Sauron himself?

And yet, here she was, with Gurlak, who looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky, who had lifted Mirdania onto her shoulder a few days earlier like it was no hardship at all, in order to help her with the tarps? And had been so careful, when she sat the other down again, that she wouldn’t stumble – and that Gurlak wouldn’t pinch anything, or be too rough with her.

'Oh, I am as much of a fool as Celebrimbor, aren’t I?' she thought, a little furious at herself, before she tucked that feeling away; she did still have time to remedy this, and she wouldn’t let a second chance pass her by. She, and Gurlak, had endured too much those days leading up to Sauron’s death to be a coward now.

And so she took a breath, and allowed a smile to spread across her face, as she said, "Oh, how thoughtful of you – thank you," with a little bit of mirth, and then moved gracefully onto the floor, until she knelt between Gurlak’s legs, looking at the other, before she turned herself around and moved backwards, until her back came to rest against the uruk’s chest.

Gurlak was unexpectedly warm, even through the leather apron. And just as solid as the elf knew her to be.

The uruk drew in a surprised breath and stilled, if only for a moment, before she slowly began to untense once more. "Sure," she said, sounding a little faint. Mirdania couldn’t help but grin in response. "You’re welcome."

'I bet I am,' Mirdania thought, but decided not to say these words out loud – not quite yet, anyways.

Instead, she boldly went and picked up Gurlak’s arm, the one she hadn’t propped up on her knee, and moved it around her own waist, and then laid her own arms over it.

"You were right, it is quite comfortable. I even got a place to rest my arms," Mirdania replied, aiming for levity and starkly aware that her voice, too, was slightly trembling with sudden nervousness.

It did not last for long, as the arm around her slightly tightened and drew her back further. "Glad to hear it," the other said.

They both fell silent for a little while, as Mirdania felt Gurlak breathe behind her, slightly uneven, and felt her heartbeat through her own back, a little faster than would be usual for an elf – and for an uruk, too, it seemed, as it began to slow down again after a moment.

"So," Gurlak eventually said, clearing her throat, before she used her free arm to point up again. "Still an anvil. You have just been around horses for too long, unlike me, who spends her days and nights-"

"Oh, you – you are not spending 'day and night' in the forges. And that is clearly a saddle, look-," Mirdania replied, laughter in her voice, and soon the two of them were fondly arguing over the constellation again, the blonde elf leaning back against the uruk smith, holding onto her arm as Gurlak did the same with her waist. Tight, but never uncomfortable.

They spent a long time up there, holding one another – so long, in fact, that they had seemingly fallen asleep, judging by the fact that they found themselves still on that balcony when they awoke again.

They did so with Gurlak’s arms around Mirdania’s middle, providing her with warmth, while Mirdania’s head had tilted to the side and was resting against Gurlak’s chest, right over her heart, hands still holding onto the uruk’s forearms, both of them waking up to birdsong and a blanket that had been cast over them.

As well as Nethiel, wearing a very smug grin and carrying to cups of tea, one in each hand, as she looked down at them.

"Good morning, you two," she chirped, her good mood apparent, and knelt down to hold out the tea. "You have no idea how rich you two have just made me. I am taking home all the other smiths’ bets today."

Mirdania, still sleepy, and only just beginning to be embarrassed, had reached out for the tea, when she realized what the other had just said. Gurlak, however, was much faster.

"What do you mean, 'bets'?!"

[cards-of-rose]

study tip!! how i write essays

going from a long, intensive classical education to my current history major, i've had to write a lot of papers. at this point, i can write a 5 page paper in a few hours, and just a couple weeks ago i wrote a 20 page paper in a single day. i graduated valedictorian with this method (current cGPA of 4.0!) so i thought i'd share how i write them! grab some coffee and settle in - it'll be a long post, but i promise it'll be worth it. :)

first, the topic. if you don't have an assigned topic, pick something that fascinates you, something that you could write pages and pages about. you will. if your topic is assigned, find something in it that you find fascinating. even if you find your topic completely boring, there's always something interesting to glean from it! once you find this, you'll gain motivation, and that's half the battle.

write down a basic outline. when i say basic, i mean barebones. just a vague, 3-point general idea of what you think you might write your paper about. this will guide you in your research! you don't need to worry about writing your full outline just yet.

sources. after you have a basic list of points, it's time to find sources! if they're already assigned, you can skip this step. most of the time they aren't, though. this is the most important part of your paper. you can go to google scholar to find really good academic journals and studies!

generally, the number of sources you have depends on the length of your paper! a good guide is that your amount of sources should number half the length of your paper. so if you have a 5 page paper, 2-3 is a good way to go. if you have a 20 page paper, you'll want around 10.

evidence. skim over your sources and categorize each one under the point you made earlier. this will mean you have a quick reference guide when you're writing, so you don't have to go through a big list of sources when you're looking for evidence! under each source, put a few bullet points talking about the info that you can use for your paper.

outline. this part may seem daunting. i promise, though, it's one of the easiest parts of the paper! you may feel tempted to skip it, but having an outline makes your paper sound better and makes it easier and quicker to write. use the sources and bullet point info you used earlier to fill out your outline. start broad and general, then add details as you do your research! your outline should be about half the length of your paper. don't worry about making it super scholarly - this is just for you, so make it as informal and easy to understand as you want! be stupid, throw in memes, whatever gets it written!

every outline should include an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. i can go over the structure of an outline in another post, but remember the 3 points you thought up earlier? these will form your entire outline, and eventually your essay!

finally, write! open a blank google doc and view it side by side with your outline. once you get started, it's a lot easier to finish than you'd think, especially if you took the time to outline! this is when you can make your dumb outline into something that would make the ancient philosophers proud. don't worry about perfection. just write it as you go. you can edit it later!

quotes/evidence. once you've finished your rough draft, it's time to add the evidence! some profs want quotes, others want you to paraphrase. either way, go through your paper and put in the evidence you researched earlier. don't worry about citations just yet - just put in the link in a comment on your rough draft. it won't be hard to fix it up later.

edit!! please, please don't finish your rough draft and be done with it. you can save so many points by going over it again instead of submitting it in a rushed 3am haze. fix spelling and grammar, add citations and a reference page, edit for clarity, anything you need to make it sound like the best paper you can write! if you're proud of it by the end, you know you've done something right.

congrats, you did it!! make sure you start your paper early and don't wait till the night before - your grade will thank you <3

[decks-writing-blog]

Campfire Fest Day Seven: Free Day - Tubular

For @outerwilds-events Campfire Fest event.

[A/N] This isn't the thing I'd originally written to upload for the free day. That piece is long, could do with some more editing, and might be getting a chapter 2 so it will be posted as its own fic later. I wrote this in the meantime though as a desperate attempt to pretend the Tubular achievement is as fun as it sounds on paper. As of earlier today I did *finally* get it, freeing me from my wave-based torment. I took that as a sign to go through with posting this instead; I wasn't sure if I was going to go with my original piece or not at first so I edited this as a just in case I decide the other piece needs more work.

The setup they use in this fic is the same I used in game but I took creative liberties in making it easier to stay on the raft and for the raft to stay with the wave because ugh, the amount of times I almost got it but either wasn't on the raft or the raft didn't stay with the wave long enough drove me up the wall. So we're pretending it's more consistent. I also wanted a little bit of drama for fun.

~

“Gabbro!” Auri shouted with a raised hand as they rushed out of the tunnel and over the hammock. “You have to come and do something fun with me.”

“Have to, huh?” It had been a few loops since Gabbro had last let Auri drag them off Giant’s Deep so probably they were about due for another adventure.

“Yes, you have to. So c’mon, let’s go.”

Moving deliberately slow, Gabbro sat up and hooked their flute into its spot on their belt before standing. Auri shifted impatiently but didn’t complain. They never did but it was fun to watch them squirm with barely held onto patience.

“You should bring your jet pack too. You’re gonna need it.”

So it was going to be that kind of adventure, huh? Though what ‘that’ might be was unclear. This was the first time Auri had suggested Gabbro bring their jet pack. And so, as much as they hated carrying the thing around, they obeyed.

“What exactly are we doing?” they asked as they pulled it up onto their back, still purposefully taking their sweet time with it.

“Hmm… my first thought was to surprise you with it but actually, that might be a bad idea. You know the Stranger with its river and the dam that breaks like halfway through the loop? Well when it breaks, it releases a big wave of water.” Auri lifted an arm to mime a watery motion, ending with the promised big wave. “If you position a raft just right you can ride the wave like halfway around the ring. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but it can take you pretty far and it’s a lot of fun.”

Jet pack securely on now, Gabbro began leading the way towards Auri’s ship. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, it is. The first few times I tried it, I got bashed into rocks and stuff. I know what I’m doing now though. I wouldn’t insist you come do it with me if I didn’t think I could keep you safe.”

It still didn’t sound like a particularly good idea but if Auri was confident they could keep both of them from serious bodily harm then Gabbro would choose to trust them. Such a stunt didn’t sound like their idea of a fun time but they were open to trying almost anything at least once. The time to try dangerous things would be when trapped in a time loop that made at the risk of physical injury and/or death less of an issue.

~

Auri beached the raft on a piece of land uncomfortably close to the dam. They’d barely gone anywhere from its starting point. They then set to pushing it even further back towards the dam because, “If it’s positioned poorly, it’ll bash us into that cliff side over there which is never fun.” Their gesture was so vague it was unclear which cliff side they were even referring to.

Leaving them to it, Gabbro stepped back to look up at the dam. They were close enough that Auri’s Little Scout was still visible where they’d shot it onto the side to monitor the dam’s structural integrity. In other words, way too close for comfort. Turning around, the first of the ship’s village areas was almost immediately downriver. The wave hit hard enough to wipe that village out so ramming into any of its buildings wasn’t likely to be something one could easily walk off.

How had Auri come up with this idea? And why, after having apparently been bashed into ‘that cliff side over there’ probably multiple times in addition to who knows what else, had they persisted in doing it until they figured out how to do it ‘safely’? They were truly something special. Gabbro couldn’t not admire their bravery even if it did maybe border on stupidity at times. Lucky for them, they had the time loop to undo their mistakes.

“Have you always been this much of an adrenaline junkie?” Gabbro asked as they turned back to face Auri. “Or did you get this way because of the time loop?”

“Uh… I think I was always kinda this way but the time loop made it more of a thing. Like, getting hurt and stuff sucks but you get used to it after a while so the risk of it isn’t as much of a deterrent. If we ever get out of this loop alive, I’m probably not gonna survive for much longer.”

If that ever happened Gabbro would have to extract a promise from them to be more careful and would have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they kept it. It was tempting to tell them that right now but the topic of their dwindling self preservation instincts didn’t need to be brought up when it would only bring down the mood. Besides, Gabbro had all but agreed to do a stupid stunt with them. They could back out and faced with the actual prospect of what exactly they were up against, it was certainly tempting to. But they’d pull Auri into rest and relaxation, teaching them how to mediate and breathing techniques to calm themself in general, it was only fair they get to return the favor the other way around at least once. Besides it might be fun, Gabbro wouldn’t know for sure until they tried it.

~

Waiting for the dam to break and the wave to come naturally gave more room to foster doubt about how wise this was. Gabbro pushed those thoughts aside though, trusting Auri’s claim that the raft was positioned perfectly, all they had to do was stay on it which Auri would also help with. Instead they settled into the wait, chatting idly with Auri until finally the lights flickered and the whole ship groaned. Gabbro had been here before and so wasn’t surprised but it still wasn’t a pleasant sound to hear from the spaceship one was currently aboard.

“It’s almost time,” Auri said. “Scout readout says the dam’s structural integrity is at eighty-four percent and dropping.” Despite that, they remained seated.

“How long does it take to reach zero?”

“’Bout an hour and half. I’ll keep you updated.”

From there, they waited in mostly silence, their conversation idle and interrupted by Auri’s occasional update on the dam’s structural integrity reading. Every passing minute dwindled Gabbro’s opportunity to back out. It was still tempting. Getting bashed into rocks or a sturdy wooden building didn’t sound like a peaceful way to die. But, even if that did happen, the time loop would undo it so, it was fine… sort of.

If they could be fine with being tossed into space by a cyclone of water, they could ride a big wave of it without fear. It felt different though. Like it was somehow more dangerous. They had more control here so it should be less. That opened up more room for error though. Trusting the hammock and maybe a small adjustment or two to ensure they landed on it was all it took to survive the cyclone. This required balance and proper use of the jet pack, easy things to mess up.

Maybe the opposite feeling was why Auri was fine doing something like this but still got nervous about the cyclones. They liked being at least partially in control of the risks whereas Gabbro preferred just letting whatever was going to happen, happen. Learning something new about oneself was always fun.

Eventually Auri stood. “Ten percent.”

Gabbro stood with them, placing themself on Auri’s right. Last chance to back out. Not that they were going to. They took deep steady breaths, easing the seed of fear inside themself.

“Right before the wave hits the raft, engage the jet pack’s thruster. It’ll raise up to meet us. After that, don’t worry about steering, I got that covered.” Auri had said that earlier but the reminded wasn’t unwelcome.

“You’re the expert.” Maybe it was foolish given their growing lack of self preservation instincts but Gabbro trusted them to keep both of them from getting bashed into anything by the wave.

From there the waiting got even more tense. The occasional glance back revealed that the dam was leaking steadily more and more with every passing second. Last time Gabbro had been here with Auri, they’d cautioned against being in the river when it broke. And now here they were, directly in its path, right in front of it, waiting for that exact thing.

“Three… two… one… and zero!”

The silence held for a beat as Auri all but vibrated with excitement before the dam broke. This close to it, the crash of splintering wood was almost deafening. Suddenly free, the water that had been held back in the reservoir rushed forward in a massive wave.

Following Auri’s lead and advice, right before the wave reached the raft, Gabbro gripped the trigger that engaged the jet pack, sending them up. Too high and too fast. The raft did indeed raise up on the wave of water beneath their feet but Gabbro was almost certainly going to land behind it. Already it was ahead of them even as it straightened out.

Welp, they were about to find out what it felt like to die via being bashed into a wall of rocks after all. Damn it. Hopefully it’d be fast.

Mere seconds before their thrust ran out, sealing them to that fate, a hand grasped their wrist and yanked them over so that they landed on the edge of the raft instead of off it. How Auri had managed to keep track of themself and realize that Gabbro needed help was a mystery but Gabbro could’ve kissed them right then and there if the situation were less dire.

Not missing a beat, Auri tugged them back into the center, facing them both forward. Better balance and probably easier to steer from there. Gabbro linked their arms through Auri’s, though was careful not to cling to hard lest that mess up their steering. Their little near mishap had lasted mere seconds but it felt like an eternity had passed.

Below them, the water rushed forward with a mighty roar. It hit the buildings, the splintering of wood adding to the deafening cacophony. Bit and pieces bobbed up around the raft, several large ones barely missing hitting it. Was Auri’s steering to thank for that? Maybe because they were certainly doing something, casting their flashlight onto the poles, subtly changing the raft’s trajectory even as it hurdled down river. Gabbro could only cling to their arm while also try not to get in the way as much as possible.

It carried them over the first village then over a cliff, barely missing bashing them into a wall of rock right before it. Possibly the ‘cliff side over there’ that Auri had pointed out before. Past it was the second village area. Wide enough to spread out the wave’s energy, easing it noticeably. Or maybe that was just them losing it as it continued forward, leaving them merely floating on the river. Not quite halfway around the ring but pretty far indeed.

“Woohoo!” Auri lifted their free arm in triumph. “That was amazing, huh?”

Gabbro forced themself to let go of Auri’s arm and step back. Their heart still raced and their hands shook. Daredevil stunts still weren’t their thing even with the time loop providing a cushion of safety. It was good to see Auri had had a fun time though and it had been worth the effort to experiment. “It sure was something.”

“I’d say ‘let’s do it again’ but we sadly only get one per loop.”

“Well, if you decide to go again next loop, uh… maybe leave me out. I don’t think I’m cut out to be an adrenaline junkie. Too much action, you know?”

Auri froze. “Oh! That wasn’t bad, was it? You did seem kind of… You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was fun… sort of. Thank you for inviting me. It’s just not my thing. This though,” they gestured around them, indicting the raft floating down stream, almost lazily now that there was no light on any of the steering poles, “is rather nice. Not as nice as the rivers back home and the rapids aren’t great but still nice.”

Auri nodded. “Good, okay. In that case though, we can spend the rest of this loop relaxing around here.”

“That sounds like a great time.”

[madneedshelp]

All That Love - Josh Kiszka x AFABReader

Summary: It was a surprise to find out you and Josh were expecting, and when the idea for a fall date arises, you devise the perfect plan to tell him the news.

Warnings: absolutely sickening fluff because I’m feeling like it, mentions of pregnancy, allusions to sex

Words: 1.3k (just a quick little oneshot)

A/N: It's been so long since I've wrote a fic, and I wanted to post something for the Halloween fics @hearts-hunger was organizing. Besides, I cannot resist a little Josh fluff. Also, fair warning, this isn’t edited because I really wanted to get it posted but I am a busy gal.

It was so nice to have Josh home on a break from tour. Especially during this time of year. While he may have been the human embodiment of sunshine, fall was one of his favorite times of the year. All the horror movies and psychological thrillers that he considered masterpieces, the cozy weather, the seasonal activities, he loved all of it and you loved partaking in it with him. 

However, none of those things were what had you most excited for him to be home. 

Two days ago, you found out you were pregnant. It was a fairly common scenario, the two of you weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t necessarily preventing. Besides, you had been together for ages and you both wanted kids, this would be a welcome surprise. 

While it would’ve been so plainly easy to tell him, you decided you wanted to do something special. After all, this was Josh. He always gave thoughtful gifts and surprised you with elaborately planned outings. You wanted it to be your turn to do something nice to tell him. 

“What do you think of carving pumpkins tonight?” You asked from your spot on the couch. 

Josh looked up from the book he had been reading. “Hm? Pumpkin carving?”

You nodded with a small grin, trying your best to keep your face a reasonable level of excited. You happened to be unfortunately bad at surprises. “Yeah, I thought it could be fun. We could go to that pumpkin patch and pick them this afternoon, then we could come home and carve them this evening. Might as well enjoy your time off, right?”

He leaned over to kiss your cheek with a grin. “Sounds perfect, I’d love to. What made you come up with this?”

“Nothing in particular, just sounded like a nice idea. I do have those sometimes. Anyway, since you were a fan of my genius plan, we better get ready and get going.” You stood and pulled him up off the couch with you. If he asked too many questions, you would slip up or cave, and you were determined to pull your little scheme off. 

“Someone’s in a bit of a rush.” He gave you a mildly suspicious glance. 

You shook your head. “No, no, I just figured I need time to shower before we go and plenty of time for you to join me.”

“Ah, I like the way you think, sugar.”

—--------------

It was late afternoon by the time you and Josh made it to the pumpkin patch, and it was still packed. These places were always a bit insane in the month of October, though. It was kind of nice, all the families and couples that were out having a nice time. You could definitely see you and Josh bringing your kids to do this kind of thing. 

Before you could start to get emotional, you snuck a glance over at Josh. He was also looking at the crowds. He seemed to notice your gaze and turned to face you with a grin. 

“What?” You chuckled at him.

He leaned in a bit closer and spoke in a low voice. “I want one.” He nodded his head slightly towards a young couple with a baby dressed up in an adorable little pumpkin costume. 

The three little words warmed your heart. It had been so hard not saying anything to him yet, but you knew it would be so worth it when you told him that night. “Me too, but I think this might be a conversation for later.” You whispered back, giving him a quick kiss. 

Thankfully, the “later” part of the day didn’t take too long to get too. By the time the two of you picked out your pumpkins, went home, and made dinner, the evening had arrived. Still, the excitement had you eager to finish your plan. 

“So, any idea of what you’re carving?” Josh asked as he finished setting up the carving station on the back porch of your house. 

You made sure the carving template you printed off was held out of his view. “I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise.”

Immediately, you could see the intrigue overtake his features. “Oh? Well now I have to know.”

You made your way to the table and scooted your pumpkin to the opposite side from him. “Absolutely no hints. We’re going to carve them facing each other and you’re not going to peek.”

“You torture me so, my heart.” He clutched his chest in mock anguish. 

“Just sit down and carve your pumpkin.” You sighed. 

He made it approximately four seconds before he started in again. 

“What’s that in your hand?”

You looked down at the paper in your hand. “Just a template.”

“Are you telling me you printed off a stencil?” He chuckled smugly. 

You pointed your flimsy carving tool at him with a stern look. “Hey, I just wanted it to look really good this year.”

He shrugged, still looking entirely too proud. “Well, we can’t all be naturally talented pumpkin carvers, I suppose.”

“You better knock it off, or I’m not showing you the finished project.”

His hands flew up in mock surrender, teasing finally starting to ebb. 

You put on some quiet background music, and the two of you got to work on your pumpkins and chatted lightly. The stencil you picked took a bit long to actually carve out. It had two little footprints in the middle and the words “coming soon” surrounding it. Josh finished first, and luckily didn’t try to distract you too badly. Deep down, you knew it was because the unknowing was killing him and he wanted you to hurry. You wanted to assure him that the feeling was mutual, and the sooner you finished the pumpkin the better. 

“Okay,” You let out a breath. “The masterpiece is complete. Are we ready for the big reveal?”

He nodded excitedly, grabbing his pumpkin. 

You matched his smile. “Okay, you first.” 

He swiveled the pumpkin around to face you. He carved his triangle symbol onto it, which wasn’t really a shock. He even had it embroidered onto the back off on of his suits, amongst many other things. 

“Fantastic work, it looks great, Josh.” You gave him a small round of applause. 

He waved a hand dismissively. “Why thank you, but the show isn’t over. We have to see your pumpkin before both can truly be appreciated.”

“Alright…” You bit your lip and turned it around slowly. 

As soon as he read it, his face cleared of all joking manners. The soft glow from the candle inside the pumpkin cast his face with a small bit of light, but it was enough for you to tell a faint sheen of tears coated his eyes. 

“Does this mean what I think it means?” His voice was practically a whisper. 

You nodded, your own eyes welling up too. “I’m pregnant, Josh. We’re gonna have a baby.”

He was in front of you in an instant, pressing a kiss to your lips as he embraced you. A few silent, happy tears escaped both of you as he leaned his forehead against yours and his hands traveled to rest on your stomach. 

“We’re having a baby,” He chuckled breathlessly, voice a quiet rasp.

“Yeah, we are.” You grinned, mirroring his soft laugh. 

He looked from your stomach then back up to meet your gaze. “I love you. I love you so much, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you’ve made me. I love our life and I cannot wait to watch it grow together.” 

“Likewise, Josh, I love you. Forever and always.”

[drconstellation]

The Passion Of Jimbriel

Part 1: The Entry into Soho

The story of events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus, and the days following, until his ascension to Heaven, are collectively known as the Passion narratives. It comes from the Latin "to suffer," or "to endure."

More than one op has mentioned there are parallels to this in S2, so I thought I would try and find how well the whole narrative was followed. Oh yes, is the short answer, it certainly does! And how! And in places you might be surprised about. I hope this series of metas might answer some of the odd mysteries of "why is that there...? that are still floating around at the moment for you.

I've tried to match the narratives to scenes and incidents in S2 as closely as I can, but I only have sketchy Anglican Christian background, so if you have had a more thorough Catholic upbringing than me and see something I have missed, slip me a message and I'll do my best to edit things.

A word of warning before we start - it's not a linear match-up. I'm planning to run through the traditional sequence of the Passion in order, but will match with the S2 scenes as needed, and those are scattered back and forth in time. It's Catch-22 again - everything thrown up in the air and landing at seeming random places, where ever they seem to fit best for the narrative.

AZIRAPHALE: Ah, you startled me. GABRIEL: Is that good? AZIRAPHALE: I just didn't see you coming.

I actually thought I might start with this little scene, where Jim gives Aziraphale a jump-scare by creeping up next to him silently. Annoyed, Aziraphale tells him to make some noise as he moves about, and Jim trolls him with some creaking noises, before starting to sing.

There were prophecies about the arrival of Jesus, but the ironic thing here is that Aziraphale, someone who has a vast collection of prophecies and is someone you could consider an expert, had no warning of Gabriel's arrival - he just crept up to the door as a nasty surprise!

Starting proper, there were the three temptations while Jesus was fasting in the wilderness.

Making bread out of stones (I've also covered the Eccles Cakes here in the Altar of Eccles Cakes. They have multiple purposes!)

2. Being tempted to jump from a pinnacle of a temple and relying on angels to break his fall.

3. Being tempted to worship Satan in return for ruling all the kingdoms of the world.

This one was actually covered in S1, at Golgotha. I know Crowley mentioned to Aziraphale that he was the one who tempted Jesus, but I wrote a meta about it because I realized most people were missing the joke in the TWO demon names that Aziraphale suggested Crowley had changed his name to, and how that relates to that particular temptation.

The last miracle performed before the Passion was the raising Lazarus from his tomb, four days after he had died.

After Crowley is dragged down to Hell for an interview with Lord Beelzebub and finds out they are being threatened with the Book Of Life for being involved with Gabriel, he rushes back to Aziraphale and says they have to hide them. As they decide they will try a shared minor miracle Jimbriel descends the spiral staircase:

GABRIEL: Hello. Where did you come back from? CROWLEY: Outside. GABRIEL: Outside? Hmm. Is it big? Can I see the outside? CROWLEY: No, no, no, no, no. No, no no. You need to stay here, inside the bookshop. We can look after you in here. Just stay here.

Inside? Inside the tomb? Aziraphale has even 'wrapped' him up for the occasion.

Later, we find out that:

AZIRAPHALE: Jim is in his bedroom upstairs. I told him bookshops are always closed on a Wednesday. As for Inspector Constable, at a guess, they were sent to verify the 25 Lazarii miracle you and I seem to have accidentally performed together the other night. CROWLEY: That's how you lot measure miracles? How many times it could have brought someone back from the dead?

Uh huh. The miracle of Lazarus.

The Entry into Jerusalem

Jesus made his way into Jerusalem by donkey to show that he came in peace, not as conquering king on a horse. Gabriel does the same.

But he walked in, you say, on foot!

Yes, but he walked by the Dirty Donkey pub on his way to bookshop.

Next, was the Cleansing of the Temple.

What temple? The bookshop, of course! Is it not a temple of books?

Aziraphale sets Jim to cleaning it, with a duster.

I'd say you could also call the bookshop a temple to Crowley - it is decorated in his colours, after all. The presence of Jim initially drives the merchants and money dealers demon away, snatching his sunglasses from his mini-altar as his goes.

The last step on the Passion I'll cover in this meta is the Anointing of Jesus. It tells the story of how Jesus had an expensive perfume, worth a year's wages, poured on his feet from an alabaster jar by woman who was considered sinful. The gathered Disciples were aghast at this waste - they asked why she did not sell the perfume instead and give the money to the poor. Jesus thanked her for preparing him for burial.

This one had me stumped for a while, and I had to think hard about where something had been "poured out" on feet, because I was pretty sure no one had been "anointed" on the head, which is another version of this part of the narrative. Then I remembered seeing a GIF that was Aziraphale focusing on the floor for a number of seconds after Crowley had upended the box Gabriel had carried to the bookshop with his fly in it to read the message on the bottom of the box.

My precious...! You poured them out at your feet, Crowley!

Alabaster is a soft white stone that is easy to carve. The bland cardboard box makes a good analogy for this. And in it we see Aziraphale has filled it with priceless treasures - not one but two lost Shakespeare plays!

If at this point you are going "Wait - Wot? Now you're telling me both Jim/Gabriel and Crowley are playing the part of Jesus here?" I'm saying yes. It's not the first time I've said it. I'm not the only op who has been saying it, either. And as we head into part two of this meta you'll see Crowley take on more of this role from Jim/Gabriel. The two of them have a lot in common, much more than you might have suspected or might even want to acknowledge. This is the past echoing into the present again. I think it also gives us some interesting things about the future to contemplate.

Next: Part 2 - Trials and Denials

Where we move on to the Last Supper, and the Arrest of Jesus before his before he is judged before a court of priests and then Pontius Pilate, and the gathered crowd.

This post was inspired by @mr-period 's long meta Remembering Something Forgotten-Where is Jimmy Boy?

More reading on the Dirty Donkey in my meta here.

[water-to-drink]

A Star’s Introduction

(Characters): Yae Miko, Childe, Pantalone, Charlotte, and Xinyan

(Synopsis): As the new kid at school you try to remain low to hide a big secret that determines whether you would be staying at the academy or not

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, reader is a superhero (star guardian), some foul language, dialogue heavy, I wrote this in one sitting so might be rushed, talks about selling organs, reader is called “new kid”, barely edited (lmk if I missed anything)

(Word Count): 1.2k

(A/n): Sorry for being gone for so long, depression has been kicking my ass but I’m back. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while so I hope you enjoy

Genshin Academy, a prestigious institution that host bright students from all corners of Teyvat. Many from highly influential families, but that doesn’t mean students from much humbler backgrounds don’t attend

Many backgrounds and cultures come together to form a beautiful mosaic that reflects the academy’s aim for a more inclusive society

The same stuff you’ve heard before in many other schools. This is where you find yourself, having recently enrolled into the academy you would say things are going pretty good for yourself. You have a small group of friends and try to stay out of the sights of the school’s most influential students, well you try to keep a low profile for reasons that will be brought up later, but as you are running down the hallways it seems that the First Star has other plans for you here

“Why hello, new kid~”

You don’t have to turn around to know who it is, the sultry voice with a mischievous tint to it. The one and only Yae Miko

“Lady Yae! Can we please do this another time, please!” You pleaded the last part but it seemed to make the fox chuckle a bit

“I promise it won’t take too long, why are you so adamant about pushing our plans to a later date?” She asked whilst circling around you, her ears moving with a bit of excitement. “Could it be that my dear new kid already has plans with some other rascal?”

“N-no Lady Yae, I just have to do something. Alone. By myself!” You directed your hands towards the door to put emphasis in your need to leave urgently

“Yeah they promised to tutor me!”

fuck

Another headache inducing person comes between you and Yae. The ginger mop of hair slightly obscures your view of Yae but from what you can see, she’s getting a kick out of Childe challenging her for your time

“Right you promised to tutor me in history?”

“I don’t remember promising that! I said I’ll think about it!”

“You’re so mean, Tyro!” Childe says while clutching his chest in fake hurt

“Stop calling me that and why don’t you go to Al Haitham or Zhongli or someone other than me?”

“Zhongli’s busy and Al Haitham refuses to acknowledge my presence.”

“I don’t blame him, you are quite the headache.” Yae mutters under her breath just loud enough for the ginger to hear

Childe whips his head around and starts to walk towards Miko. You blocked out what they were saying and slowly backed away from them until you reached the corner and then your walk quickly turned into a run. You ran down the halls to find an empty room until you found one that had the lights turned off, you stepped inside and instantly bumped into something. A very expensive sounding crash hit your ears, the lights instantly turned on revealing a broken vase right by your feet

“Oh my stars!” You gasped not noticing the other figure in the room

“My my, that vase was around 500,000 mora.” A deep voice came up from behind you and to your horror it came from none other than Pantalone

“Do you know how you’re going to pay for it, unless…?”

“A kidney will pay that off.”

“I-I beg your pardon…?”

“A kidney is around 450,000 back where I’m from.”

“Why is selling your kidney your first option…?”

“But if that doesn’t cover it I could sell some blood or parts of my skin to make up for-”

“I was insinuating you working for me, not selling body parts, dear archons!”

“So out of the goodness of your heart you’ll overlook this tiny oopsie?”

“Oh no, it still has to be replaced.” The raven haired student said with his usual smile

You looked around to see if there was a way out but alas, there wasn’t just you and him. In defeat you turned towards Pantalone

“Okay, I’ll work for you to pay off the vase. Just can we start this tomorrow, I have something really important to do.”

“Hmm.” Pantalone rubs his chin seemingly not noticing or intentionally ignoring you getting more antsy by the second. “I think I have work for you to do that cannot wait until tomorro-” The sound of a large explosion cuts him off

You look out the window to see a hydra like monster terrorizing students out in the courtyard

Disregarding your conversation with Pantalone you run out of the classroom, heading to the rooftop

The charm on your bracelet rattling, a constant reminder of the vow you made to the First Star many years ago. A vow to be a Star Guardian a beacon of light dedicated to protecting all life from monsters that threaten to plague this world and many others into total darkness, upon reaching the rooftop you look around to see if anyone is there and thankfully there isn’t

Taking a deep breath in you prepare to say the phrase for as long as you stand and till you take your very last breath. “Starlight Transformation!”

With that your body is enveloped in a blue light your school blazer replaced with the white lightweight armor, your loafers replaced with white boots with blue linings, your normal color hair now is a vibrant shade of blue. Everything completed with a four pointed star in the middle of your chest

You’re ready for action

You leap off the roof and extend your hands out

“Lux! Aura!” You called out to your magical companions, a pair of capybaras appear and each turn into two shotguns in your hands

You began to shoot at the monster, mainly aiming for the many eyes it has.

Out of your peripherals you see a girl with pink hair and glasses about to be crushed by one of the monster’s heads

Rushing you get her out of the way just in time

“Don’t worry! I got you…”

“Charlotte!” Charlotte answered. Her eyes look over your shoulder and as you followed her gaze to see the monster charging up a beam in its mouth to shoot right at you

Before you could move out of the way the hydra blasts the beam right at to both of you

Charlotte preparing for the blast opens her eyes to see a shield had formed around you two

“I said that I got you,” You smiled at her as you lept onto the rooftop. “now get to somewhere safe. I’ll finish this guy off.”

Jumping back down you continue to shoot at the monster’s weak spots until you were certain it had been weakened significantly

Standing right in front of the hydra you get ready for your final attack. “Starlight Bullet!” With the pull of the trigger the monster disappears in a burst of smoke

“Ugh, now I can finally go home.” You sighed whilst stretching

Walking in through the school’s entrance the next day you see students reading the school’s paper, your friend Xinyan runs up to you and hands you the paper for you to read

‘Mysterious Hero Saves Academy From Monster’’

It only took you a few seconds for things to click, Charlotte from yesterday is Charlotte of the newspaper club

“You look so awestruck, I know it’s so cool having a superhero at our school, it even says that they might be a student too.” Xinyan said gleefully unaware of your emotional turmoil

All your efforts to remains under the radar in both your regular life and Star Guardian life down the drain in a moment of carelessness. Oh may the First Star guide you

[scrapheapchallenge]

"Just Neil Gaiman being wholesome again" but also Rob Wilkins being extra wholesome too! On Tuesday evening I went to this talk https://living-knowledge-network.co.uk/library/the-worlds-of-terry-pratchett By Rob Wilkins and Neil Gaiman.

Neil was co-author of "Good Omens" with Sir Terry Pratchett, and they collaborrated on many other books together here and there, just not sharing co-author status too - read this article for more info: http://www.elizabethcallaway.net/good-omens-stylometry?fbclid=IwAR2hVnd8aTYFBZqphk8SzYt8j1NucBl5mUxbDscF3kljQ9Bpuq2leUW2S6I Confirmed by Neil yet again on Tuesday.

Rob Wilkins was Terry's PA, and now manages his estate, as his representative. He also wrote "A life in footnotes" - the official biography of Terry.

On Tuesday evening, I arrived at the British Library very early, and was guided up to the Piggot Theatre lobby to wait by a security person, so I was there before anyone else, including Rob. All the staff were absolutely lovely. When they noticed there weren't any gaps for wheelchair spaces in the audotorium, facilities engineers were summoned and made short work of unbolting a set of 3 seats to make a wheelchair space for myself and another wheelchair user who turned up later.

Then Rob turned up, carrying a mannequin, Terry's leather jacket, scarf, hat, and other stuff.

Now the email we recieved before the event said that Neil wouldn't have time to do any signings that evening, although they didn't mention Rob, so I asked him if he might be able to sign my copy of "a life in footnotes".

He happily said yes, and once he'd sorted his things out, he came back out to chat to me for a while and OMG he was the loveliest person EVER!

I gave him a print I'd signed of my ink portrait of the Bentley, and some stickers of my other Bentley illustrations, and he said "WAIT! I have presents for you too! I'll be right back!" Then rushed off to the green room. (Below are the ink portrait, then I gave him small stickers of the "this is fine" flaming Bentley - which I was also wearing on my t-shirt that day - and my most recent digital portrait of Crowley and the Bentley - and yes it is all hand drawn, not a photo manipulation, feel free to zoom in. A couple of years separate these 3 drawings and I'd been working hard on learning photorealism.)

He came back and gave me Terry and Neil badges, which he explained you only get if you meet them in person. I had met Terry (and incidentally Rob as well) years ago at a book signing, plus I met Neil, albeit briefly, on Tuesday as he came through the lobby and said hello.

He was happy to chat and especially about cars, which he also loves. He confirmed that I was 100% correct about the "2 whole cars and a cab for CGI" between seasons 1 and 2, and that the interior colour change is nothing to do with plot it legitimately is just continuity errors if they forgot to cover the new Bentley's new seats with covers matching the old Bentley's orange ones. (The cab only also has orange leather seats).

When I told him about this year's RREC (Rolls Royce Enthusiast's Club - also for Bentleys) Christmas card design, he was delighted, and asked to take a photo of the image I had of one on my phone because he wants to order some as well.

I showed him my re-usable coffee cup from "give me coffee or give me death" which we were given on the set tour, and which I had Sir Derek Jacobi sign at a comic con the other week. Rob thought that was wonderful, and then did something extra sweet...

He asked me "if you're ok trusting me with this for a little while, would you like me to sneak it back to the green room to ask Neil to sign it for you as well? Then I'll come and find you afterwards to give it back again."

HELL YES! I couldn't believe it! I hadn't wanted to ask because we'd been told that Neil wouldn't be signing things due to lack of time, so for Rob to spontaneously make the offer was not something I was expecting. He did also take my Occult Edition of Good Omens to ask if Neil would sign that as well.

I didn't fully expect that he would, and was prepared for him to come back later and say "sorry he was too busy", and that would have been fine, but no: Neil DID sign them both!

Neil writing "burn this (big fancy) book!" was a spin on how Terry used to sign copies of Good Omens: "burn this book" - which is actually embossed on the rear cover of this edition.

Later, Rob also signed it for me, as did Colin Smythe, who was Terry's publisher and lifelong friend.

We were sitting at the front, only about 7 or 8 feet from Neil, the talk was wonderful, we laughed, we cried a little, and Terry was with us in the form of the mannequin with his jacket, scarf, and hat (which are also on set of Good Omens at all times while filming, and also even during rehersals/table reads - so he's always present.)

Rob is honestly so bloody wholesome, he was hugging a lot of people, and ever so sweet, taking time to chat to other people as the venue filled up, and stayed behind to sign things and talk to other folks as well.

I also got to chat to Dr Pat Harkin and Dr Jan Clarke, who were the researchers who spent months of hard work tracking down Terry's lost short stories in the national archives in Boston Spa, which were released in a compliation book "A stroke of the pen." If I'd known that they'd be there as well, I'd have taken that book and asked them to sign it too. They were in the audience and sitting next to us with Colin Smythe. I was truly surrounded by Pratchett royalty, and everyone, without exception, was SO friendly and lovely.

I had done two prints of the Bentley drawing and stickers, for Rob and for Neil, in case I got chance to give them to them, and when I gave Rob his, I said I had some for Neil as well, and again, he OFFERED to take them to give them to Neil for me.

Although I didn't get chance to thank Neil in person, I wanted to reach out to let him know I was very grateful for his kindness as well, so sent him a message via his "ask" channel, although not with an expectaction of reply - just for him to see privately and know that I was appreciative. But he chose to actually publish it as a public reply, which was lovely of him. I hadn't wanted to thank him publicly just in case he didn't want others to know that he had signed some items after all. I'd been expecting to have to wait until he did a proper public appearance with signing at a comic con or something - although with him living in the USA, not the UK, I may have had to wait a long time.

So I guess the answer is to getting an autograph - turn up 2 hours early, and be very VERY nice and polite to Rob Wilkins 😅 (but also don't expect results - I didn't, it just sort of happened).

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Where the Ashes Settle

----

Roman was prepared for normal day, leave the hotel, get coffee, go to the station and head home.

He hadn't made room in his schedule for getting caught up in a villain fight, nor getting kidnapped by the villain and his arch-nemisis, though.

----

| Ao3 | Next Part -> |

Warnings: Injury, kidnapping

Pairings: Anxceit, possible future anarociet depending on how you wanna interprit.

Word count: 3437

Notes:

I wrote this whole thing today because I was bored and wanted to have some fun. I've been wanting to make a superhero au for a very long time but I'm too lazy so here's a oneshot instead. :) - i't's not really edited as of right now, I might come back and fix it later, but I can't say for sure.

----

Roman was just a civilian.

He had no useful powers, as much as he’d always wanted to be a hero, being a super one is just not on the cards. Voice Projection. That was Roman’s power, he could make his voice be heard from anywhere, with a microphone it was amazingly useful during concerts. But he could only make his voice as loud as he could yell, so the most he’d be able to do as a hero would be… to cause confusion, potentially. 

So Roman wasn’t a superhero, he was a regular person, an indie singer who was nowhere near as well known as he wanted to be, doing gigs in pubs and at small events who didn’t have the money to hire the bigshots or specifically wanted acts that no-one had heard of. It was fine, Roman loved singing, holding the attention of a crowd was something he was good at, writing and performing music had been something he loved since before he could remember.

He was well aware of the more super goings on of the world, of course. He followed the heroes almost religiously, their instagram stories, the events they were doing, the latest battles they’d won against upstart supervillains. His favourite was a longstanding battle between one of the top heroes - Viper, who was surprisingly popular despite his dark and mysterious persona - and one of the most renowned villains in the country - Tempest, who looked and played the part of arch-nemesis very well.

Roman followed their battles over the internet, watching the videos and footage. Their fights were always immense and almost beautiful, they were evenly matched, skill wise, and they both had crazy power sets. Viper could shapeshift, between human and animal forms, including - to Roman’s delight when he saw the battle - a dragon. Tempest could create - as his name suggested - storms, he could walk on the clouds, draw lightning strikes from the heavens, create heavy rains and strong winds whenever he wanted. 

It was brilliant to watch, after the fight had taken place from the comfort of his mediocre apartment living room.

It wasn’t quite so great to be there in person. 

He’d been getting a coffee at a cute little cafe he’d found whilst staying for a week in a town a few hours out from his own for a few pretty good gigs he’d been able to snag and he was just about to head to the station to get his train back home. He’d decided to stop by the shop on the way. He’d known something was wrong when he’d stepped back onto the street, coffee cup in hand, guitar case slung across one shoulder and backpack on the other, to find it deserted. 

Thunder. He heard it first as he made his way down the street, turning the corner to see the dark, angry clouds gathering just up the street. He rushed forward - blinded from the danger by his eagerness to see the fight - maybe he’d be able to film it if he could get a good view! Witnessing a battle in person - especially one on this magnitude - was rare and absolutely granted bragging rights over all your family and friends, so Roman wasn’t about to pass up such an opportunity.

He must have approached from somewhere behind Tempest, as he creeped along the street and pulled out his phone to record - even as the wind whipped at his hair, thankfully it wasn’t raining. He knew that this was stupid, he’d be in a lot of danger coming this close, but he felt almost like he had to.

Further up the street Roman spotted Viper, shifted into some kind of big cat crouched atop an already damaged car, making up some kind of blockade at the other end of the street. Roman could hear yelling and crying from behind it - he must be protecting people that way. The pair of supers began to fight properly, thunder booming in the sky as they clashed. Viper turned mid-jump into what looked to be a griffin, and ran at Tempest. Roman watched in wonder as the two clashed in front of him. 

Lightning struck, too close to him to be safe. He let out an involuntary yelp for fear when the building began to catch fire. His eyes darted between the rapidly spreading fire to the fighting pair. Neither of them had noticed. He heard a scream from inside the building and - panicking - Roman decided he would have to do something. 

“Hey!” He called, but his voice was lost to the raging winds. He tried to use his power, placing his voice nearer to Viper - “Hey! The- the building’s on fire! To your left!”

Viper looked over, golden eyes widening for just a moment, before he was slammed into by Tempest. 

Shit -! Roman thought, glancing back at the building again, breath quickening, he’d just gotten Viper hurt - he was sure he could probably face legal action for interfering like that, and the people in the building were no closer to getting saved. His power really was useless after all.

Roman was just trying to figure out what to do when the fire began to spread too close to him - across the debris already on the floor. He took a few steps back only to scream as something came hurting at him in the wind. The bit of flying debris smacked into his shoulder hard, sending him flying to the ground and leaving him winded. His vision swam as he laid there on the ground, distantly aware of more yelling than before, was it closer? And the crackling of fire, the screaming of sirens somewhere far in the distance. Roman hoped they’d be fast enough to save the people in the buildings. 

—

“Shit!” Virgil yelled when he heard someone scream from far too close to them to be from the crowd. Rearing back from where he’d been about to punch Janus and looking around just in time to see the civilian standing far too close to the fight get flung backwards to the ground - almost into the raging inferno that was the building behind him. 

Janus shifted back to himself as he stared at the same sight. Virgil growled, well aware people were still watching, and darting forward - grabbing the hero by the collar of his shirt and holding him close, making sure his expression was mean enough to appease any watching cameras even as he whispered his split second plan to the hero.

“I’m going to ‘kidnap’ him,” Virgil said, voice barely a hiss, “And run, make it look like you beat me and then get the people in that building out- I’ll make sure he’s okay back at the apartment. ”

“Be careful, Darling,” Janus told him, before transforming into a giant beast and grabbing Virgil, with a snarling growl, flinging him across the street towards the knocked out civilian. Virgil landed expertly, made a show of looking around as if disoriented and got up. Janus roared and Virgil took that as his cue to run, scooping up the civilian and grabbing his things on a second thought before grabbing one of his clouds and swiftly escaping the scene, starting a downpour as he did so. He hoped maybe it would help with the fire. 

He really didn’t want innocent people to get hurt. 

—

When Virgil arrived at the apartment building, the civilian now fully unconscious in his arms, he was stopped by his security guy, Logan. Virgil groaned internally as Logan questioned why Virgil was carrying some knocked out guy and why the fuck he had a guitar. 

“Don’t question me ,” Virgil snapped, his voice slipping into his supervillain persona’s for a moment, startling Logan. He’d have to apologise later, but he had no time for Logan’s never ending questions right now, “When Viper gets here, let him in.”

Logan looked at him skeptically, but Virgil’s expression hardened, practically daring Logan to argue with him. Eventually he just sighed and nodded, allowing Virigl to make his way into the building. He saw Logan rub his forehead out the corner of his eye as he walked away. Maybe he should make him an apology cake.

Carrying the civilian up the stairs was easy when you were able to manipulate the wind to give you a boost. When Virgil finally arrived at his apartment he went straight to the spare room and laid Roman down carefully on the bed, placing the guitar and bag nearby before setting about checking him for injuries. 

He wasn’t burned, thank goodness, but Virgil was worried about his shoulder where the debris must’ve slammed into him. There were bits of it embedded in his skin and the joint looked dislocated. Virgil just prayed that was the worst of it as he - as gently as he could - popped his shoulder back into place and removed the biggest pieces of debris. Cleaning him up and bandaging his shoulder properly. He was used enough to doing this for himself by now. 

Until Virgil heard Janus arrive at his front door, Virgil stayed sitting by the bed, making sure the civilian was okay the entire time.

—

Roman felt groggy when he woke up, like he’d drunk too much at a party or something, though he couldn’t remember any party. This wasn’t his house either - the bed he was lying on felt unfamiliar - and very soft. The covers were tucked up to his chin and he felt very warm and safe here as he stared up at the plain ceiling. No fluorescent lights - so probably not a hospital either. Where the hell was he?

From the next room, he could hear voices, though he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. When he tried to move up, pain shot through his shoulder enough to make him gasp - and then his head started to feel like it was splitting apart. Right, he remembered now. 

Just because Roman remembered what had happened to him before he had clearly passed out, that didn’t help him to understand where the hell he was, or who was talking in the other room, or who these lovely purple bed covers belonged to. 

His head was killing him, so he closed his eyes again. 

“He’s been asleep for almost a full day now,” He heard someone say, the sound causing shooting pains in his skull, was that voice kinda familiar? It felt like it was, but Roman couldn’t place it, “I’m starting to worry it might be worse than a bump on the head.”

“Perhaps it would have been better to take him to a hospital, Darling.” The second voice said - this one was even more familiar than the first. He started to think he must be dreaming, though, because surely Viper wasn’t actually here. He’d heard that voice enough in interviews and publicity stunts, maybe he was dreaming?

“Yeah well - it wasn’t like we had much time to make that call,” The other voice huffed. 

“I know,” Viper sighed, “If he doesn’t wake up in the next half hour we should take him to the closest hospital.”

The other voice scoffed, “And what, tell them: ‘Oh hey doctor, here’s this guy I almost killed yesterday and then kidnapped because we didn’t know what to do!’ How would that go over, you think?”

“...You’ve got a point,” Said Viper. Roman stewed in his own thoughts as he pretended to sleep, yesterday, almost killed, kidnapped - that familiar voice… Was that Tempest ?? - what the hell was Tempest doing here with Viper, and had they really kidnapped him? What the fuck was happening?

Roman groaned softly as the pain in his head spiked and both of them went silent.

“Is he awake?” Tempest asked, Viper made a noncommittal noise in response, before seemingly walking over. 

“Hello, darling,” Viper said, voice much closer now, “Are you awake?”

That soft tone was so different from the sarcastic, sassy persona he always displayed for the public. It made Roman feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Hey- I thought I was ‘darling’!” Tempest said, from further away. He sounded like he was pouting and Roman resisted the urge to laugh as he peeled open his eyes again, having to blink a few times as the light made his head spin.

“You’re ‘Darling’, with a capital ‘D’, Darling, everyone else is a lowercase ‘d’ darling,” Viper dismissed, before looking back at him and smiling. That was Viper alright, his signature scales were glittering gold in the dim light of the room and his mismatched eyes - one blue, one gold - were looking at him with an expression so caring and soft Roman almost reeled back. Why on earth was the hero looking at him that way? His hair was loose, tumbling to his shoulders in blonde waves and topped with a fancy hat that seemed a little silly compared to the comfortable clothes he was wearing. 

His gaze wandered warily to where Tempest stood, a fair ways behind Viper - leaning on the wall beside the door. His identity wasn’t quite so obvious, considering his costume consisted of a mask and a hood. But Roman recognised his electric purple hair and violet eyes regardless. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of an oversized hoodie and seemed fairly relaxed in posture. 

“Will you sit up and drink something for me, darling?” Viper asked, gently placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder to help him up. The movement made him feel dizzy, but he did think water would be pretty nice right now. 

“...Where am I?” Roman asked after taking a sip of cold water from the glass Viper pressed into his hands. 

“My apartment,” Tempest answered, not moving from across the room. 

“...Why?” He asked, frowning.

“I needed to get you out of the way so that Jay here could save the people in that building,” Tempest shrugged, earning a look from the hero, he groaned, “He’s literally in my house - I don’t think him knowing the first letter of your name is a real issue, here.”

Roman frowned, “Wait- but-” He thought, trying to put the pieces together, hadn’t Tempest struck that building with lighting? “Didn’t you… mean to set it on fire?”

“What? No, of course not,” Tempest looked almost offended at the accusation, “I missed with the strike, that’s all.”

Confused, Roman looked between them, Viper chuckled, “There’s a lot more going on behind the scenes than you know, dear,” He said, gently patting Roman’s shoulder. He felt himself melt beneath the touch. 

“Like… what?” Roman asked.

“Things you don’t need to know about,” Tempest said, finally pushing himself off of the wall to walk closer. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and offered something to Roman, “Here, painkillers - if you need them - you took a nasty hit, they’re still in the packaging.”

Roman watched the both of them as he took the painkillers, examining the packet before taking one.

“I… owe you an apology for that, too, had I known you were standing there I would’ve made sure the debris didn’t hit you.”

It suddenly made a lot more sense why despite how destructive and violent Viper and Tempest’s fights were, no civilian ever actually got hurt. 

“Thank you for the warning, by the way, darling,” Janus told him, shifting to gently card fingers through Roman’s hair.

“Hm?” Tempest asked, looking up in confusion.

“He warned me about the fire… I’m assuming you used your power?” Roman nodded, “I’m sorry I couldn’t act on it sooner.”

“It’s… fine, I just wanted to do something - did everyone get out okay?” Roman asked.

“Yes,” Janus nodded, “I got everyone out unharmed.”

Roman breathed a sigh of relief, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as he did so. He looked around at the other two, before sighing and resting his head back against the headboard. 

“That’s good,” He mumbled. 

“You’re welcome to go back to sleep,” Tempest said, “As long as you eat something first - you’ve been out for at least twenty-four hours by now.”

Roman groaned, even though Tempest was right, he was hungry, and having attention drawn to that fact just made him hungrier. 

“Fine,” He mumbled. Tempest looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding to himself.

“How about I order pizza for the three of us,” he suggested, “We haven't eaten dinner either - do you like pizza?”

“What kind of heathen doesn’t like pizza?” Roman asked, trying not to laugh. Laughing hurt. Tempest chuckled and pulled out his phone. 

For a long few minutes, they just sat there. Viper was playing with his hair and Roman didn’t mind in the slightest - aside from being a little confused - and Tempest was messing around on a phone, supposedly ordering them pizza.

Eventually, Viper broke the silence, “What is your name, darling?” He asked. 

“Oh- it’s Roman,” Roman said, “Roman Piper.”

Tempest looked up from his phone, eyes a little wider than before, “Roman Piper, as in - the singer Roman Piper?”

Roman was too flabbergasted to speak for a moment, “I- yes- yes, that’s me, you’ve uh- you’ve heard of me?”

Viper just hid his face with his hand and chuckled as Tempest lit up.

“ Heard of you? Dude! I love your music!” He said, “I… can’t believe I fucking kidnapped my favourite music artist.”

Roman couldn’t help it, he snorted, bursting out laughing, though his cheeks were red, “I was actually um- here to do a few gigs… but uh- I think I appreciate this, actually, saves me the hospital bills.”

“Downtown? In that old bar a few days ago? I was there -”

Viper tapped him on the shoulder, leaning in and whispering, “He’ll talk about you for hours if we don’t stop him, darling, though - for the record, your music is lovely.”

Roman blushed a deep red, hiding his face in his hands. Don’t get him wrong! He loves meeting people who liked his music, but when those people where the most notorious villain in the country and his arch-nemisis (Though Roman was starting to think something else was going on there too) who he’d been looking up to for yours it was a little bit different.

“I’m supposed to be resting, right?” Roman said, interrupting whatever tangent Tempest was about to go on. 

“Yes, you are,” Viper said, smiling. 

“Hm,” Tempest said, “I could put on a movie or something while we wait for pizza?”

Roman brightened, “That sounds wonderful - hm… would it be a step too far if I asked for your real names?”

“Hmm…” Viper said with a soft smile, “You can call me Jay, if you’d like, it’s halfway there - perhaps I’ll give you my real name in the future, darling.”

Unable to help himself, Roman grinned - the idea that they might not part ways once this whole ordeal was over was a lovely one. He was honestly starting to quite like these two - not to mention how curious he was about whatever ‘behind the scenes’ things were going on. 

“If that’s what we’re doing,” Tempest said, standing up and offering a hand to Jay, who took it, in turn offering his arm to help up Roman, “then you can call me V, for now.”

“Lovely, both of you,” Roman smiled, letting Jay put his arm around Roman’s back for stability after he stumbled a little to lead him out of the bedroom to a dim, cozy living room strung with fairy lights. It was cute and warm and safe - very homely and cozy looking - totally not what he would’ve expected from the villain had he been asked two days ago. Now it seemed… a little more fitting. 

Jay guided him to sit down on the sofa and V quickly joined them after grabbing a small stack of DVDs that he handed to Roman to choose from. He was delighted to find that they were all disney. 

After a long period of deliberation that had V chuckling and Jay sighing, in exasperation, Roman finally settled on Moana - which he handed to V to put on. Before long, the three of them were squashed together on the two-seater sofa, with Roman in the middle. Something in the back of his mind told him that he shouldn’t feel as safe as he did, considering he was in the home of a supervillain, cuddled between two extremely powerful people who he didn’t really know the intentions of. 

But despite that, he felt the warm haze of sleep drift over him as the movie continued and they ate their pizza in calm, comfortable silence. 

Roman was passed out on Janus’ shoulder before the film even neared its end.

----

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