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a-risk-to-take · 3 months

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….you posted your tattoo (sick) and linked to house of dirk and i read it all and its unfinished. if you hadn’t posted i may have lived my life without getting fanfic blue balled for the first time since 2015. if you have any sympathy for my loss you would give me fanfic recs >:[ /lh

I feel your pain believe me 😭😭 I’m sorry I didn’t warn you at least. I’m low-key hoping the tattoo image gets to imarriedacherub and inspires them to continue the story - obviously not likely but it’s nice to dream!

I got recs for you though! I’ve got hundreds of bookmarks on my ao3 but here’s the HS stuff I love the most:

The epics:

Dayvhe’s Broken Diamond Club and everything by @unda-dsk: DBDC is my personal fave of theirs, and the best treatment of troll culture in any fic ever. If you know HS fic you are probably aware of MC Escher That’s My Favorite MC, and that one is absolutely excellent and completely deserves its status as one of the very best. And then there’s Alternate Universe, which is a perfect and beautiful magic school story. All of these are absolutely top-tier - I cannot stress this enough. They are epic and very long but some of the best stuff I’ve ever read—fanfic or otherwise—and they changed me when I read them. Despite the length, DBDC is very episodic so you can read each chapter as its own story and easily take breaks in between them without losing the flow, so you might want to start there. I promise it’s worth it!!

so we don’t kill the ones we love by @callmearcturus: I’ve never read anyone who can create an atmosphere like Arc can - this one is kind of a John Wick AU but in a really refreshing and elevated way. The characterization is so on point. Lots more I could rave about but I’ll just add that Arc’s Karkats are the hottest and most based out there. Again all his stuff is really good - this one is my favorite, but don’t miss this really cool magic artisan AU also.

The meteorstucks:

Aahhh there’s no way this is gonna be complete because I’ve read like hundreds and I get them confused but these are some that stand out. In case you haven’t notice already this list is gonna be very davekat centric!

Keep It Down by sburbanite - chef’s kiss concept and execution just read it

A Xenological Exploration of Music and Language by superbloom - super fun and well written with neat headcanon - and turned me on to some great music

I’m actually gonna just declare this section unfinished for now - I need to revisit these and remind myself what’s what - stay tuned!

Illustrated

Since you liked HoD you might be looking for more comic-y stuff with art. Definitely check out @chthonicarcher’s amazing davekats! Such as That’s All We Are

Dream a Little Dream of Me by koroke - this is just a little dream bubble comic but it’s simply the loveliest and I’m massively envious of the art style

Gonna Need Some Windex by the End of the Year by magniloquentChanteuse - more artistic storytelling just neat!

It’s About Time by @laurasauras - this is a sweet cute lovely little time travel davekat that I actually sent to a friend to read who knew nothing about HS and successfully led them into the fandom. (Followed by AU by Unda). Laurasauras is prolific and there are so many great fics written by them I can’t list them all here but they are one of my absolute favorite authors. Their understanding of the strider psyche is absolutely impeccable

The Worst Goddamn Movies Ever Fucking Made by writerbot - this fic brought me so much hilarity and joy I can’t even tell you. The Karkat voice is perfect and delightful and the social media interludes are so fucking funny and impressive. One of the first fics to show me how creative and funny this fandom can be.

I’m surely going to add to this - there are so many more meteorstucks and other authors I know I’ll think of after I post this - but I don’t want to spend too much longer on this now when you could be reading some of this great stuff! ENJOY!!

#homestuck fanfics #homestuck #davekat #fanfic recs #fan fiction

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ophi-chus · 3 months

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A cross-stitch bookmark based on traditional Palestinian ceramic designs ~ I miss having them around. Here's a Wikipedia page with more information about these ceramics, and here's the free cross-stitch pattern for anyone that wants it!

You can buy ceramics from artisans in Palestine via this website

#cross stitch #cross stich pattern #tatreez #palestinian pottery #ophi's stitch

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vitruvianmanbara · 2 months

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any new perfumes to share with us? :)

none that I've tried, but I have a few I recently bookmarked that have caught my eye!

🍜 pho breakfast, d'annam - entire line is intriguing but I need to get my nose on this one (and the vietnamese coffee scent! maybe for summer 🤞). meant to evoke the spices and herbs of beef pho…this is my kind of gourmand

🌻 chelsea staircase, thin wild mercury - will be saving for the new york city discovery set of course 😌 inspired by the old chelsea hotel. i’ve heard great things about this set and i love the smell of stretched canvas so i’m curious to see how these notes all work together

📜 spell 125, papillon artisan perfumes – the ambergris gives me pause but as a huge fan of serious and cerebral piney woody fragrances I think I’d love this. “The longest spell in the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, Spell 125 covers the ceremonial process of crossing the underworld to reach the afterlife, including the famous weighing of the heart ceremony, where only a feather-light heart would pass the God’s test.”

🐎 rotano, maison d'etto – meant to evoke the scent of horses, tack, and and barns…”bold leather and woody fragrance. Sensuous, opulent notes of cedarwood, leather and stallion.” yes pleaseee

#trying to save $ rn but also haven't been moving through my samples as quickly #busy these days so I'm gravitating more towards familiar stuff than things that might distract me!#fragrance #edited to add some more details bc these are all intriguing…if any of you get your nose on these you must report back!!

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fanfaire · 4 months

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-- THE PACKAGE THAT Furina receives is… slightly strange, to put it one way. Though the paper that covers the box - a simple royal blue paper, thin on its own but achieving thickness through its many layers - is placed there with surgical care, it is littered in creases that suggest it has been folded and unfolded many a time.

And, well, of course Furina knows it is for Furina because the writing scrawled on top says as much, scripted in silver ink that, too, has been written down with precision. ‘To Furina’.

When opened, the package seems to in fact be a bento box, a container found most often in Inazuma. In its various compartments are not food, however- well, alright. There is food in one of them, the largest: a somewhat smushed rollcake, stuffed with cream and slices of amakumo. In efforts to contain said cream, it has been wrapped in a waxy film, though it has not entirely succeeded in preventing some stickiness from oozing out onto the other items in the box.

These other items being, namely, a rather elaborate sensu fan, encrusted with a pearl at its hilt as it is stuffed into the thin compartment where chopsticks would normally be found. When unfolded, it reveals a rather artistic depiction of waves crashing upon the shore, formed in thick and purposeful ink strokes on a pale blue background.

The rest of the compartments seem to be filled with a variety of trinkets, namely fitting into the category of ‘blue’ and ‘Sumeran’ in one way or another. There are pressed bookmarks made from kalpalata lotus blossoms, jewelry from crystalized rukkhashava mushrooms.

When the rollcake has been eaten, as you lick off your fingers, you find a small square note at the bottom of the box. It reads simply: ‘You’d do well to have more practical tastes’.

But if your gift-giver was really so loathe to your requests then, well, why go through all the effort?

first, she had thought — who so ungratefully left their discarded wrapping box littered on her doorstep? the season for gifts and wintry cheer had come, alighting the streets of the court of fontaine in scintillating array, accompanied by the neverending crush of bodies big and small, rushed and joyous alike. but it also meant more and more commotion, more things left about, more carelessness. the gardes — human, meka, and melusine — had all had their hands full since the first snowfall; she certainly didn't envy them.

but if she had never thought to curiously afford the package a second glance, drawn in by its rich blue, she would have left it behind altogether, and never realized it was in fact right where it was intended to be.

' to furina '.

at the careful stencil of her name, her heart leaps. first with surprise; then, more childishly, with delight.

for this must be her gift from the guild! her reward and return for her own painstaking endeavor some days ago, for the scolding she'd endured from chevalmarin in overspending on the month's budget in pursuit of the perfect custom-crafted artisanal piece.

she snatches the box up in her arms ( pleased to find it pleasantly weighty ) and vanishes into her apartment in a flutter of taffeta, eyes alight with hope and expectation.

( for though furina, the hydro archon, regina of waters, kindreds, peoples, and laws had received far too many gifts in her time to be counted, furina, the girl who had recently retired from the stage, had never once. and perhaps some part of her had presumed that one did not receive such gifts anymore once they had stepped down from aweing the crowd. )

unpackaging the beautifully embroidered tin unveils an array of colorful trappings, such that she tucks a girlish gasp audibly in one gloved hand, eyes hardly knowing where to land.

the miniature fan? the elegant jeweled necklace?

the insidiously tempting roll cake? ( —she had already had two slices of plum galette this morning; surely she would be scolded if she had more; and yet this is the season of celebration, isn't it? )

yes, it's true some of it had gotten sticky, no doubt being bumped around on the way here, and she would have liked for the packager to take greater care with its contents in light of this, or perhaps have marked the parcel as fragile. but perhaps such carelessness, to which she would lend more heart in some different circumstance, could be let go this time. after all, a gift was a gift to the young lady seldom so blessed, and that alone is enough.

some hours later, once frosting has been licked from fingertips and the amakumo's vibrant tart has faded from her tongue, she does not forget her etiquette.

to my gracious gifter, rather than my possessing more practical tastes, it could be said that your ability to meet even the most impractical of wishes speaks to your kindness, diligence, and above all your savoir faire. see this then as bounty on both our parts, for your attention has not gone unnoticed nor unrewarded. i have here attached a selection of pâte de fruits of good quality, not merely the kind obtainable from any streetside booth. you will find the bold flavors of your roll cake complemented well by the subtle, gentler sweetness of the pear and black fig. a heartfelt thanks once again, furina de fontaine

#「　✦✧　WANDERER　/　dramatis personae. ♕　」#ghWishes2023 #this was super thoughtful thank you ! oh scara..........

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jazzforthecaptain · 1 year

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For folks who would like fast, no-nonsense access to just samcas fics when they search Ao3, I bring you my own personal artisanal Ao3 filtered search.

This filter is set up to show completed samcas fics and exclude a couple warnings, because it's my bookmarked rec-reading filter. I recommend that you fine-tune this filter with your own rating/tag/warning/ship preferences and then bookmark that.

Bone apple teeth!

#sastiel #samcas

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collidescopeeyes · 6 days

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Time is Roulette Whee: Swain WIP Pt3

“I'm not allowed to make deals with you anymore,” you tell the raven sternly on your next outing. “Also, that was very rude. It's not like dying is new to me, but some warning would have been nice. Not that I think you can talk, per se. I mean, you have those creepy whispers, but I don't know the demonic language. I can probably guess what you're trying to get at, though, and no. I'm not letting you rip my head open for juicy tidbits, and also, I'm not making any bargains to free you from Swain's control. Anything you know he knows anyway, and he's less likely to fuck me over than a literal demon. Especially one that very rudely let's me get my throat shrapneled from the inside.”

The raven caws from your shoulder. “Yeah, that's what I thought,” you grouch.

—

You don't do much over the next month, honestly. Once every few days or so, a raven arrives with an envelope clutched it's beak, and inside is a time you're to arrive at Swain's office, wrangle Raum under control, and chat. He seems to like talking to you, or at least you assume that's why he keeps doing it. You do occasionally feel like you're on the business end of a reconnaissance mission, but you can't imagine knowing your opinion on yordles somehow gives Noxus an edge on their many conquests. No, at this point you figure that Swain just has an intense demeanor that makes him seem like he's always doing something important, even when he's just asking you how your days been, or how you're settling in, or your thoughts on the book you were reading. That last one might be a reminder that you're under constant surveillance, actually, but it's not like you particularly care. Spending years in a nightmarish hellscape completely isolated save for the inhuman monsters trying to kill you kind of maxed out your lifetime requirement for alone time. Besides, you're pretty sure the birds can't open doors or unbar windows, and if you really wanted privacy you could always rewind yourself to Piltover or something. Still, you leave your window open for the birds most days.

—

The bird on your windowsill caws to get your attention. You wave it over without looking, focused on your book and your breakfast. Noxus probably would've been higher on your list of leads if you knew their food was so good, honestly. Who knew artisanal bread and cheese could elevate a grilled cheese sandwich so much?

The bird lands on your table, Swain's fancy envelope in beak. You wedge your bookmark in place and take it with your clean hand, breaking the crimson red seal and fishing the card out one handed. “Three pm,” you read aloud, tossing the card back on the table. “Standard Raum wrangling duty, it seems.”

The bird croaks at you. You shrug. “I don't make the rules.” You rip off a piece of crust to feed to it, then frown. “Come to think of it, how do you work, anyway? Does Swain see everything you see, or do you just report the important stuff to him?” You frown. “That would be awkward. He is technically my boss. That being said, respect for authority was never my strong suit.” You consider the bird a moment, then turn back to your meal. “Ah, whatever. He has like a hundred of you running around. I'm sure he's not paying attention to me telling you about embarrassing things I did in primary school. Hell, maybe it'll convince him to stop having you follow me around.”

—

“I can hear everything you say, and no, the inanity of your conversation is not going to convince me to leave a mage of your caliber unchecked,” he says by way of introduction that afternoon.

You blink, shutting the door behind you. “I’m not a mage.”

He raises a brow. “Oh? How does one traverse the Void without magic, then?”

You shrug as you seat yourself across from him. He changed the chair out shortly after your first visit–it’s nicer now, with actual padding. You wonder if that's for your benefit, or if someone got the other one broken over their head. “It's a secret. Hand,” you wiggle your fingers at where his left arm lies hidden inside his imposing military coat.

“Would you tell me in exchange for a recommendation to a cake shop?” He asks, placing his red-lit palm in yours. His tone is dry, but there's an edge of sincerety there that makes you think he's not entirely joking. “They make a lovely lemon meringue.”

You click your tongue. “Sorry, no dice. Besides, I'm sure you can figure it out from the tidbit your birdie already got out of me.”

“I understand it was a Voidspawn that took you from your world, and I take it your powers are a result of harnessing whatever you found there,” he says offhandedly. “What I don't understand is how you came to be here.”

You glance up at him. He has that look again, the one that makes you feel vaguely like a butterfly pinned to a board, like he wants to peel you open and see what's inside. “If I knew that, I probably wouldn't still be here.”

“Hm. I hope you know I won't be opening any Void Rifts on your behalf,” he says casually. “Far too much cleanup.”

“If you can find me a trajectory through a hellish nightmare void that defies time, space and euclidean geometry, I will personally slaughter every Voidspawn from here to the nearest Shuriman Rift,” you say cheerfully.

He raises a brow. “Not overselling yourself, I hope?”

You shrug. “I don't die. Don't strictly need to eat or sleep because of that, either. And believe me, I know how to kill Voidspawn.”

“You also take several hours to revive,” he points out. “Hardly time efficient.”

You shake your head. “Reality is…rigid, here. Inflexible. Not the Void. Those things bring a little bit of nothingness with them. Makes it easy to change things, change me.” You frown at his hand, trying to find your way around your curse. “First time I died after coming here, it was morning by the time I woke up, and I was not happy about it.”

“Hm. How fast would you say, with exposure to Void energy? Minutes?” He peers intently at your expression. His brow hitches. “Seconds?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” you say breezily. “And if you don't mind, I'd rather change the subject, before I say something I shouldn't and end up spitting blood in your face.”

He grimaces. “Very well. What would you like to speak about, then?”

You blink. “Yknow, you're different from what I was expecting.”

He raises a brow. “Oh? And what did you know of me, before you met me?”

You open your mouth, except you have no idea how to answer that question. “I don't think I can fully answer that,” you say slowly.

“Partially, then,” he says.

You frown at him. “Hey, you were following me for weeks before we met, and you don't see me interrogating you about what you know about me, other than that I like lemon meringues.”

He blinks. “I did not know you liked lemon meringues, just sweets. And putting aside what you have willingly divulged to my birds, I know that you're stubborn, intelligent, pragmatic, and more ruthless than you like to pretend you are. You go out of your way to help others, but pain doesn't seem to phase you anymore and without that nothing in this world seems to pose any real threat to you, so the life-threatening risks you take aren't particularly high-stakes for you. You subject yourself to the mundanities of human life your powers could erase the need for–food, water, rest, walking to places you've been or practicing a knife when you could unmake a city. You don't shy away from your powers, so you must not think they pose any threat, but you don't use them as a crutch either–that leads me to believe you mistrust them, perhaps that they'd desert you once you return to your world. Please, correct me if I'm wrong on any of those counts,” he says, spreading his free hand invitingly. You don't. “There. I've told you all I know about you.”

You raise a brow at him. “I know you didn't tell me all that just to hear about yourself,” you say dryly, and release his hand. “But if you really must…I know you get kick out of getting under people's skin.”

He smirks. Whatever answer he was looking for, that was apparently good enough. He's handsome when he smiles–well, he's handsome all the time, but in the same way a classical statue is, a cold and untouchable sort of beauty. When he smiles, that wicked little twist on his lips, it makes him look human. Not quite approachable, but at least like someone that lives on the same plane of existence as you. “I can neither confirm nor deny. You may restore the walls of Bitharix tomorrow at your convenience. That will be all.”

“Yes, sir,” you say with a mock salute, rising from your seat as he returns to his work.

“The shop is called Halcyon, and it's near the war memorials,” he says as you turn to leave. You look back to him, taken aback.

“Are you just telling me that because I wasn't expecting you to, and you like throwing me off?” You ask skeptically, though there's mirth in your voice.

“I decided I should reward you for your rare approximation of respect,” he drawls.

“If I'd known I got a reward for being a good girl I'd have done it sooner, sir,” You say teasingly, because spending years in the Void talking to yourself just to stay sane has really done nothing good for your already tenuous brain-mouth connection. Swain looks up at you, brow raised, and the satisfaction you derive from his taken aback expression is almost enough to cancel out the fact that you just hit on your boss.

…Your boss, Jericho Swain, Grand General of Noxus, who you have to look in the eye in a scant few days. Who, judging by the smirk curling on the edge of his lips, has no doubt cottoned on from your deer in headlights that you weren't just fucking with him, and you've completely lost why opportunity to play that off as a joke.

Welp. He might think you don't use your powers as a crutch, but you've never left somewhere so quickly in your life. You make your escape before he has the chance to say anything.

—

He doesn't call on you for a few days after, and you almost, almost put the incident out of your mind. You've had more embarrassing fuck-ups, you're sure, and honestly everything you've been through kind of puts social blunders into perspective on an odd way. You decide not to worry about it.

—

“What is that?” Swain asks, squinting at the paper bag you've deposited on his desk.

“A lemon meringue?” You say, plopping into your seat and wiggling your fingers at him.

“Why is it here?” He says. He doesn't even look at you when he puts his hand in yours, busy opening the packet to peer inside, as if you've somehow put a bomb in a clearly labeled baked goods bag.

You blink at him. “It's for you?” He gives you a blank look. “I figured you liked them, since you didn't know I did and you brought them up anyway. If you don't want it I'll take it. You were right, though, they're amazing.”

“Hm. No, I'll take it. My thanks,” he says. There's a strange look in his eye when he regards you. “Is there something you want?”

You consider him. “People don't often just do nice things for you without wanting something in return, do they?”

“Implying you don't want something from me?” He asks.

You pointedly do not think about your last encounter. “Well, sure, but you know what I want.”

“Do I?” He says, his voice low and considering. His palm is warm in yours. You're so fucking made.

You resist the urge to squirm. You've spent years in the Void, whatever this is can't be worse. “Look, if this is about what I said last time–”

“It's not,” he says easily, completely derailing what was about to be a very awkward apology about your lack of professionalism. Not that you'd ever had much of that. Before you can ask what the fuck that means, he hands you a sheet of paper. “In any case, your services are required in Ionia. We will be departing tomorrow morning. The details are there.”

You scan the piece of paper, which is part mission detail and part itinerary. “We?” You ask, flipping the page over. “Wait, you got the Leviathan back? Didn't Gangplank steal that?”

He grimaces. “Yes. Captain Fortune returned it after she deposed her predecessor, as a gesture of peace towards Noxus.”

You glance up at him. “Did it work?”

A smirk pulls at his lips. “For now. Bilgewater is more useful to me as it is now. Besides, bringing that mis-managed shantytown to heel would be far more effort than it's worth.”

“Would be useful to have serpent callers on staff, though,” you point out idly. “If there's one thing I'm not going to miss about this world, it's the sea monsters.”

“A fair point,” he says thoughtfully. “Though I must say that relying on the favor of a god sits ill with me.”

You shrug. “Can't say I know much about Nagakaborous, but gods can be brought to heel like anything else. Look at Aurelion Sol.”

He gives you a sharp look. “The celestial dragon? What about it?”

You blink. “Oh. I suppose that would predate your demon. The Aspects enslaved it using a magic crown and bent it to the will of the Ancient Shuriman’s, creating the god warriors which ultimately led to the civilizations downfall. As far as I know he's still floating around Targon doing their bidding. When I tracked him down, he refused to help without the crown being removed, and putting aside how long I'd be comatose for if I tried to undo however many thousands of years, I'm pretty sure he intends to blow up the planet if he gets free.”

There's a predatory gleam in his eye. “I see. What else do you know, about the Aspects?”

You raise a brow. “If you're expecting me to sit here and lay out the secret history of Runeterra, you're at least buying me dinner.” Shit. Wait. You've done it again.

He laughs, rich and dark. He turns his hand in yours, his clawed fingertips brushing over the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is currently thundering through your veins. “I can give you so much more than that, dear girl. Tell me, what is it you're craving today?”

…You're so fucked, and what's worse, he knows it.

—

Once you scraped your brain into your head, the first thing that came to mind to request for dinner that didn't involve clothes coming off was steak. You spend an hour comparing your understandings of the Aspects, Mount Targons general political landscape and possible resources, and you go into a impassioned aside about how the cosmic dragon that created the stars in your sky was a pretentious prick. He does, in fact, get you dinner–which is to say, the tower has its own kitchen staff, and he invites you to dine with him. He's actually very cordial–for all that talking to him sort of feels like you're somehow being played, he also holds open the door and pulls out your chair. You notice he only uses his demonic arm in front of you–in the hall, he keeps it tucked away in his coat when you're walking, but as soon as the serving staff have filed out of the room he's back to normal.

“How many people know about Raum?” You ask, cutting into your food. It is, of course, excellent.

“Only the Trifarix, Katarina Du Couteau, and you,” he says. “More convenient to have our enemies underestimate me as a cripple, and those who witness my powers firsthand don't tend to survive the experience.”

You glance at him. “Is it really that bad, that you lost an arm?” He raises a brow at you, and you wave a hand. “Not as in–look, I've been dismembered before and it fucking sucks, but what I mean is…I don't think having two arms is what makes you dangerous.”

For a moment a bittersweet smile pulls at his lip. “Things were different under Darkwill. Martial strength was all that Noxus valued, and that is one of the many reasons it was rotting from the inside. It's a mentality some still share, inside Noxus and out.”

You snort. “Like it matters how good someone is in a fistfight when they have a fortress and an army?”

“Some would describe that as cowardice,” he points out mildly.

“I'd call it pragmatism,” you retort. “Do you frequently say the opposite of what you mean just to see if people will agree with you?”

He smirks. “No. But I don't particularly care for most people's opinions.” Implying he cares about yours? “Wine?” He offers.

(The wine is, of course, as excellent as the food.)

—

“When you said morning, you did not say pre-sunrise,” you grouch, huddling under your new coat. The wind is bitingly cold in the harbor; Swain seemed unbothered by it, though it sends his coat flaring dramatically around him. The upper deck has a balcony that leads directly to his quarters, and he cuts an imperious figure overseeing the Leviathan's launch.

“Not a morning person, I take it?” He drawls, as if he doesn't know damn well from his birds.

“There are three things that wake me up in a good mood–sex, food, and coffee, in that order,” you say archly. “And I don't imagine you have an eggs benedict and a vanilla latte under that coat.”

He raises a brow. “Unfortunately, no.”

Hm. That's a surprisingly lukewarm response. You pause, finally taking a good look at him. “You look tired,” you say, noting the shadows under his eyes. Exhausted would probably be the better term.

“Yes,” he agrees. “There was much to do before we left, and I hadn't planned on our talk being quite so engaging.”

You hold out your hand and wiggle your fingers at him. He glances at you curiously, but places his gloved hand in yours. You rewind him back to rested, and his brows hitch. “Convenient,” he notes.

“I'm not doing that on the regular, and I don't care how efficient you'd be if you didn't need to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, releasing his hand. “Even without the physiological side effects, there are deep-seated psychological ramifications to not sleeping you really do not want to mess with.”

“I'll take your word for it,” he says. “I appreciate the assistance, but the reason I called you here is because there's been a slight change of plans. You'll be serving as my primary bodyguard for the duration of this trip, not just part of my entourage.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you need a bodyguard?”

“No, but the Ionians’ don't know that, and I'd prefer it to stay that way,” he allows. “That does however mean that I expect you to stay by my side, unless I explicitly order otherwise.”

You nod. Internally, your head is in your hands. You're sure that being next to him all day will have only positive effects on whatever bizarre game of cat and mouse you're in with the man. Which, now that you think of it, you're not entirely sure if he's trying to seduce you, use you for the good of Noxus, or just enjoys fucking with you. Probably all of them, to some extent or another.

He turns to look at you, considering. Then he looks back over the still-grey horizon. “Your quarters are there. I suppose I won't take issue if you chose to return to bed. We are still in Noxian waters, after all.”

And little acts of kindness like that are doing nothing to help you make up your mind.

#league of legends x reader #league x reader #reader fic #leauge of legends #x reader #f!reader #reader #my fics: tiarw #swain lol #swain x reader #WIPs

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