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fanaticsnail · 2 days

Note

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breathing devil-fruit user called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.”

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.”

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier.

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances.

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship.

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair.

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship.

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral.

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was.

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain.

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him.

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists.

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain.

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder.

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed.

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher.

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him.

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature.

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue.

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets.

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head.

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked.

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over.

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper.

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face.

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #eustass kid #kid pirates #op kid #kid x reader #op kid x reader #one piece x reader #gn!reader #one piece x platonic!reader #eustass kid x reader #subtle killer x reader #killer x reader #one piece kid x reader

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gayshadowgov · 2 days

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Kit's Traybake Pancakes (cinnamon apple var.)

Love eating pancakes but hate making them? This traybake pancake recipe may be for you! Making these gives me enough pancake squares for 6 days (5 if you eat two on the day you make them). They reheat well, can either be eaten with or without maple syrup, and are very customizable! I recommend adding fruit and protein powder like I do in this recipe, making it a slightly healthier breakfast than just pure carbs.

Instructions under the cut!

Full disclosure, the base for this recipe was the mug pancake recipe from the youtuber Emma’s Goodies: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnuH1Yggnjw&pp=ygULbXVnIHBhbmNha2U%3D

I made this mug pancake for years (except with tripled portions because I was using a very big mug) and it was super delicious! However, for just one mug pancake, it was a bit of a production and didn’t feel super worth it. Thusly, I have adapted the recipe to be made in a 13”x9” baking tray, which makes a whole lot of breakfast. Be aware, it has a tendency to be a little dry, but everything I’ve read about making moister pancakes involves adding extra butter and this recipe already has a lot in it. (I need to experiment with using a mixture of vegetable oil and butter, I think)

Recipe (serving size: 2 squares):

Base Ingredients:

12 tbsp. butter (I use salted, if you don’t have salted butter, add a very small amount of kosher salt to your recipe)

9 tbsp. (1/2 cup+ 1 tbsp) granulated sugar

12 fl.oz. milk (I use skim, use whatever kind you like)

3 cups all-purpose flour

3 tsp. baking powder

Customizable Ingredients:

1 scoop protein powder (I use vanilla flavored whey)

1/4 cup of maple syrup (ideally not pancake syrup, they’re different)

2/3 apple (I use McIntosh or Honeycrisp)

Nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom to taste, for sprinkling on top

Base Instructions:

Heat oven to 425°F, take out a 13”x9” nonstick baking pan and spray bottom and sides with cooking spray (yes theoretically I know you don’t need to spray a nonstick pan but better safe than sorry).

Put butter in a bowl and melt it in the microwave. I recommend microwaving for 40 seconds, two times (total of 1m20s)

Put butter in a stand mixer, preferably with the paddle attachment. While you heat the milk in the microwave* (20 seconds, twice, stir milk before heating again, I use a glass liquid measuring cup), add the granulated sugar to the mixer. Once the milk is heated, add it and use one of the lower settings on your mixer.

Add the flour and baking powder, mix again on low setting until it forms a batter (a small amount of lumps is okay from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to overmix).

*You can’t put cold milk into hot butter, it will form little clumps and be gross

Customizable Instructions:

Add one scoop of your preferred protein powder with a 1/4 cup of maple syrup. Mix on low setting until it’s mixed in.

Take your apple and a large, sharp knife (be careful) and cut the apple in half vertically. Then cut the apple into vertical wedges, avoiding the core. Use as much of it as you want, but I recommend using 4-5 apple sections (or do whatever you want lol I'm not a cop). Eat whatever segments you don’t intend to use for a lil snack.

Peel the apple wedges with a peeler (don't use the skin, you'll thank me later), then use knife again to slice the peeled wedges in half and then into small pieces.

Put apple chunks into mixer and mix until dispersed.

Baking Instructions:

Pour batter into greased baking tray, shake the pan until the batter is flattened and reaches all the corners (or use a spatula and spread it evenly by hand). Optional: Sprinkle the top with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom according to your tastes. I tend to have a heavy hand even if I don’t mean to, but it still comes out very tasty! (and smells great while baking!)

When oven reaches temperature, put the pan in and cook for 20 mins. Know your oven and if it tends to be hotter or colder, adjust cook time as necessary.

When the timer goes off, test the center in several places with a toothpick. As long as it doesn’t come out goopy, you’re good! (crumbs on the toothpick is fine) I say test in several places because if you accidentally go through a piece of apple, your toothpick may come out slightly wet, but that doesn’t mean the pancakes aren’t done. If it's not done, cook in intervals of 5 minutes, testing when the timer goes off.

Take pan out, and use a butter knife or a pie serving spatula and poke around the edges of the pan to free the pancake traybake from the edges. Let cool for 10 minutes.

Cut into squares. I tend to cut 12 pieces, but you could go smaller or larger depending on how much you intend to eat at once.

Enjoy! I eat two squares at a time and it makes a good breakfast! For storing, put however much of it you can eat in 2-3 days in the fridge. Store the rest in the freezer.

For customizing, use whatever fruit, spices, syrups, and/or protein powders you want! Just be aware that more fruit in the batter means it may take longer to cook!

If you make them, either the same way I do or differently, let me know how they came out!

#pancakes #recipes #baking #pancake recipe #traybake #traybake recipe #breakfast #meal prep #breakfast meal prep #tasty #shoutout to my wife lunarchandelure for helping me convert measurements

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

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I've been dreaming of the Plotting Serpent.

A Sorcerer in the Sands seeks something far bigger than himself. Freedom, sweet freedom.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Bundled up in several layers, Jamil makes his way down a twisting path and into an open market.

The ground crunches softly under his boots. His breath is chilled, turning into a fleeting fog as he exhales. He retreats to the comfort and safety that his bulky coat provides, watching bales of white lazily drift down around him.

Snow instead of sand—imagine that.

The market operates straight out of the town square. From a vantage point--his temporary housing upon a hill--he can see the entirety of it, all the stalls forming a circle. The market is, by no means, large—but it has the spirit of something grander. The banter, the bartering.

Not so different from the bazaars at home.

Jamil ducks in, taking his time to pace around to each vendor. He’s agile and bright, like a child first viewing the moon and rushing to catch it in his palms.

Most sellers—and most customers—are elderly, gnarled like the roots of a tree. The cold colors their rounded cheeks the same red as many of the apples on display.

There’s pink and yellow and green too, and other fresh produce. The majority of it, he is told, is grown in Harveston. Others are foraged from Mt. Moln—nuts, plants, berries, and mushrooms.

Other stalls offer already manufactured goods. Scarves and gloves to protect against the winter, steaming apple drinks and sweetly spiced snacks, toiletries lovingly handcrafted with botanical oils.

His eyes light up with interest. He stops to inspect a row of shampoo and conditioner bars.

Feel free to touch and smell! says a sign at the stall.

He does, testing the weight of a bar in his hand. It is light and has an easy slip to it, and gives off the faint aroma of apples. Slightly tart and juicy.

It'll be good to have on hand, especially when it weighs less than liquid variants. The sign says these bars are made with apple seed oil, an ingredient that treats split ends and dryness while restoring a shine...

He absentmindedly feels the ends of his hair. The locks are normally dark and glossy, but the cold has not treated them well, leaving them slightly dry and brittle.

That's the cost of travel. It can be difficult to predict how my skin and hair react to different climates.

“Excuse me,” Jamil calls out to the stall owner, “I’d like to buy one of these shampoo bars, please. One in the conditioner bars as well."

“Sure thing!!” The owner wraps up the bars and slides them over. As Jamil hands him a few bills, he pipes up. “Say, yer not from ‘round here, are ya, sonny?”

“Yes. I am but a traveler.”

“Traveler!” The owner’s eyebrows shoot up. “Real fancy livin’ ya must have."

“No, not at all. I try to live humbly and travel light.” Jamil indicates his backpack, the one piece of luggage that follows him wherever he goes.

"That so? Not many young folk visit these parts." The owner strokes his rounded chin in contemplation. "I figured ya must be on yer way to the city. A lot more for youngins to see 'n do there."

“I beg to differ. The village has shown me incredible hospitality during my stay. Delicious foods, friendliness... I can enjoy Harveston's natural sights without worry. I'm content with just that."

With each word that leaves his lips, he feels the weight that has been on his shoulders lifting.

Jamil, you're free, the wind seems to whisper. The realization is intoxicatingly sweet and crisp, the first bite taken from a forbidden fruit.

"Aww, that warms mah heart ta hear ya say," the owner beams. "Yer a good kid, yer parents would be proud of ya."

"My... parents?" Jamil falters at the mention of them.

His parents are back home. His sister, too. Najma had texted not long ago, pestering him about bringing her a souvenir and asking when he’d be back.

His family is waiting for him. And... who else is there?

Jamil's brows furrow. Suddenly, he feels as though someone should be beside him, and he, trailing after them. A hopeless person buying up all the stalls, shoveling new dish after new dish at him.

"Here, try this, Jamil! Oooh, and this! That looks super tasty, have some too! And this cracker!"

"Where did you get all this food from?! There's no way we'll be able to feasibly finish this before it goes bad. Why do you never listen to me, Ka..."

A growl rips from his stomach. Jamil's eyes widen, and his face heats.

The stall owner's laugh cuts through his confusion. "Gahahah! Ya hungry there, son? Here, lemme grab ya somethin' on the house."

"Oh no, sir, I can't accept that."

"I insist!! Won't be long 'fore ya mosey on outta here and move on ta the next place. Eat yer fill while yer here, there ain't nothin' like a homegrown Harveston meal or snack anywhere else in Twisted Wonderland!"

The owner rustles with utensils behind the stall, He fills a container with a generous slice of pie--oozing with apple filling--and fluffy pancakes, plus a few potstickers. Then he pours hot tea, apple cubes bobbing in the spiced brown liquid, into a paper cup.

Jamil gets a whiff of it from where he stands and--against his better judgment, his mouth waters. When the owner hands him the container, cup, and a wooden fork, he doesn't refuse them.

"Remember us ‘n all the fun times ya spent here."

"Thank you, sir." Jamil bows his head. "I will. I'll never forget your kindness."

"Don't 'cha mention it. Go on 'n git now, ya got plenty more of the village to visit!""

Jamil departs with his purchase and his gifts, which he immediately settles into.

Lifting the paper cup to his lips, he sips his tea. It's deep and tangy from the cinnamon and apples it has been brewed with. He pleasantly warms from head to toe.

It isn't long before he downs the rest of the drink, apple cubes and all. They're not fresh, but dried--so when his teeth slices them into halves, they're springy and chewy, with a strong flavor.

Jamil lowers the cup, dragging out a satisfied sigh.

It's then that he realizes he's walking directly into a black wall. He veers sharply to the right, but still brushes his arm against that of the incoming person.

“Pardon me. I wasn't watching where I was going...” Jamil looks back, but is startled to find no one where his shoulder has made contact.

Hm? Was I imagining things?

Jamil glances around the marketplace. The crowd is too sparse for him to miss anyone. There are grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, each dressed in thick coats and boots, some wrapped in scarves and others sporting fuzzy hats or earmuffs.

But no one is wearing all black.

He shakes his head.

It was probably nothing then.

Jamil returns to browsing the square, his every stride as light as a feather. He feels as though he is dancing atop the snow.

The cold no longer bothers him.

The wind, carrying a new message that resonates with his heart. It seems stronger now, rumbling like a deadly avalanche.

"Be free, Viper. Be free."

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astaroth1357 · 1 year

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Devildom Wedding Headcanons

I realized you probably wouldn't get a Christian wedding in Hell.

cw: lotta alcohol, Satanic themes

Weddings in the Devildom are anything but a quiet affair. They're noisy, colorful, and caked in excess.

A demon world wedding ceremony could be mistaken for a nonstop reception. The guests are always on their feet, constantly on the move by dancing, swinging, hooting, howling, and jumping. Raucous revelry is seen as a sign of support for the pairing.

Demonus flows at all points of the ceremony, though not in high concentrations so most guests can partake throughout the whole event. Food is also served plentiful and easily portable so the dancing doesn't have to stop for snacks.

Wedding venues tend to be outdoors to accommodate the movement. Couples often choose town squares, forest clearings, or parks to hold their ceremonies. It will go on no matter what weather as magic can be used to keep things dry and temperate. Thunderstorms are actually signs of good fortune as the realm is seen as adding noise to the festivities.

The decor is often chaotic and colorful. Guests are encouraged to bring their own flowers, fruits, and paints to crush and throw as they're moving. There is no coordination between parties, so all sorts of petals, juices, and colors will be mixed together by the end.

Music is bright and energetic. Swing jazz is a popular choice as it often reflects the energy of the venue. Full bands can be brought out or bands of friends and family members can partake in keeping things lively.

Fire is a big part of the ceremony. Torches, braziers, and bonfires are used for illumination - themselves alight in fantastic, magical colors. More expensive ceremonies will even opt to use shadow magic to make words and images from the shadows of the dancers.

The couple being wed is expected to be barefoot throughout the event, no matter the venue. It symbolizes willingness to tred a dangerous path together. Outfits are selected jointly, often to match in some way, to further demonstrate the unity.

The couple arrives together and enters the venue at the same time, upon which they will take their place in the center of the festivities - often marked by a large bonfire/stone/effigy. The couple dances to the music as the guests link hands to form moving circles around them.

Glasses of demonus are eventually passed to the couple in the center. The pair take turns speaking individually to their partner and the crowd, making declarative statements about their love and future devotion to one another in a form reminiscent of a toast. The crowd is encouraged to cheer or heckle if statements seem inauthentic.

A guest of the couples' choosing then brings them a set of rings to place onto each other. Once the rings are secured, they are allowed to kiss, then drink from their glasses as demonus and paint is showered onto them like champagne.

The ceremony moves right along to the reception within seconds. The guests are allowed to rest, eat, stand, and converse among themselves and with the couple. Wedding games such as Drunk Lawn Darts or Hot Coal Races are played while guests intermittently give speeches and toasts.

The reception ends when guests are too exhausted/wasted to continue any further. The couple is allowed to leave at earliest convenience to consummate the final event if they so choose to, though it's poor manners to leave before speaking to all guests.

Jobs allow two days of time off for employees to recover from expected hangovers.

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pixelatedraindrops · 5 months

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RAINCODE COMIC COLLAB~☔️

BEHOLD THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR!!

3 full weeks of work and its finally completed!

So @kazinsblog and I did another raincode art collab together but this one was a HUGE project! This one's a full 18 page comic!

Idk if you all remember the comic idea that Kazin was planning to do that involved Yuma overworking himself until he gets sick and then gets tended to by everyone else. But when I saw it, I decided to ask her if she was willing to possibly collaborate on it, remaking it where she sketched it and I colored it.

Kazin's Beta images: 1 2 3 4

So here's the results of all that work. We've been at this since December 17th so this has been an almost full month collaboration. And of course mine's a bit more altered to my own style as well as adding my own touches and making it a little more whumpy/extreme... X'D I also freehand drew shinigami in my version as well.

Both our versions look pretty different! The only thing that are the same are the poses. So feel free to check out Kazin's traditional version as well!

Since its an 18 page comic, I decided to put it under a keep reading so it won't clutter everyone's timelines. Also, I will be narrating the pages because I love narrating sick filler type stories. So brace yourself for a VERY LOOONG post!! Def need time to read this one! (and no purple tinted filters here this time!)

Also note: If the writing is blue, it means the character is thinking, just like in the game! :)

And I apologize on the inconsistency of Yuma's bangs... I thought it was one way before so half of the comic he looks like he has square bangs... oof XD I fix it around page 10

ANYWAY, hope you enjoy this soft buffet, Raincode Community! 🌡️💕

(Page 1)

Our story begins on an ordinary day in Kanai Ward. Rainy gloomy and depressing as ever. Our little victim... wait... XD I mean protagonist Yuma decides to go out to investigate more about Kanai Ward to try to track down it's supposed ultimate secret. Yakou sets him off wishes him well and tells him to be careful. However, as he's out, he finds out a lot of people in the city need help. Because of his good nature and unable to turn down someone in need, he decides to help whoever he can. (the ultimate side-questing lol) Before he knows it, he's soaking wet and he had helped 10 people in total. Time passed and it was almost evening so he returns to the submarine. Yuma was completely unphased by this. (and he didn't dry himself off for 4 hours due to being occupied with tasks)

(Page 2)

Yuma returns to the Agency's submarine to greet his chief holding his meatbun order. (that also got wet) But Yakou notices that the trainee is sopping wet to the core and shivering. He immediately loudly demands that he sit down so he can tend to him. Yuma does as he's told and sits on the checkered sofa. Yakou rushes to the shower room to grab some small towels to help him dry off. But because Yakou is so panicked, he ends up being very rough in drying Yuma, pulling his hair and causing the small boy pain. After he dries him off, he tells Yuma he isn't allowed to leave anymore for the rest of the day and demands him to rest. Yuma tries to retaliate using puppy eyes, but it doesn't work. Yakou is immune.

(Page 3)

The next day Yuma asks Yakou if he can go out to work after he finishes his morning chores around the place looking very eager. Yakou still looks a little concerned by how tired Yuma looks, so he tells him to not go out alone. He assigns him a partner to go with the rest of the week.

On the first day he's paired with Halara. The two of them are asked to investigate the art gallery of Ginma. (maybe after the nail man case) But over time, Yuma starts developing a lingering cough that persists for quite some time. Halara asks Yuma is he's okay, to which Yuma lies saying that it's due to the dust of the room. But of course being sharp, Halara isn't buying it. But they decide to not persist him further.

On the second day, he's paired with Desuhiko. They're asked to go help out at the Aetheria Academy with another case (not murder related this time) However on the way to the school and in Ginma, Yuma starts slowing down, he's shaking and is a little wobbly. Desuhiko notices this and asks if he wants to go to the cafe for a drink. Yuma nods and as they go to the cafe and order some coffee, Yuma takes off his hat and coat and Desuhiko finally realizes how pale he looks. He's even slower at replying to him as he speaks, as if he's in a daze. Desuhiko decides to take Yuma back to the agency after this.

(Page 4)

On Day three, he's paired with Fubuki. But he doesn't even make it to the case as when he goes to the sun and moon hotel to meet with her, Fubuki notices and points out that Yuma's face looks red. The boy clearly had a fever building. Yuma argues with her but Fubuki persists. The two of them try to go to the case but Yuma nearly collapses. So Fubuki returns him to the agency.

On the fourth day where he's supposed to be paired with Vivia he spends a majority of the day passed out. Vivia decides to watch over him using his forte to not disturb him. During the night while he's asleep, his breathing gets more labored and he's completely restless. Vivia looks at him deeply worried for his dear friend's well being.

The next morning Yuma somehow finds the strength to get himself up. Maybe that one day of rest was enough. But Yakou insists that he stays put today. Angrily yelling at him to be still and take today off as well.

Meanwhile, a certain two seem to notice each other...

(Page 5)

Vivia's spirit notices Shinigami and decides to give her a warning. Make sure Yuma listens to Yakou and doesn't leave. Giving her the iciest glare, Shinigami fearfully agrees.

But this effort would be for naught, despite how he feels, Yuma's relentless determination forces himself up, putting on his rain attire and heads up the steps of the sub to the outside when Yakou isn't looking. Shinigami does what she can to stop him, but he doesn't listen...and Shinigami being a ghost, there was nothing she could do to physically hold him back. All she could do was follow, and prepare for the inevitable.

By some miracle he makes it to the church, up the stairs to speak to the nun. Who tells him to play therapy again for the townsfolk. He nods and heads to his first client. But when he returns to kamasaki to speak to him, he can barely make out what he's saying as he lets out a few more coughs.

Once he leaves the client, before long, Yuma could hear something in his body snap.

(Note: I direct most of the story, but Vivia conversing with Shinigami in spirit mode was actually Kazin's idea! So credit to her for that, So silly and fun! ^^)

(Page 6)

Yuma's body had finally reached it's limit. All the fatigue, chills and body aches had hit him all at once at full force like armed weaponry. His head began throbbing, he was shaking violently and uncontrollably, he felt nauseated by the rain's smell, and his body heat and the lingering dizziness was unbearable. He found a safe corner in the alleyway of Kamasaki to collapse. Telling Shinigami she was right and he should have listened to her, while the burning fever and cold rain wrecked his delicate frame even further. His voice was hardly audible, but Shinigami still heard and practically tells him to go back. But Yuma had no strength left...

Then like clockwork as they finish speaking, he could hear his name called. At first it sounded kind and questionable. But that rapidly changed, the voice now angrily yelling out his full name. As he looked up this voice belonged to...Yakou. He looks down at the boy in pure disappointment and anger.

Turns out a certain someone was tailing him. And alerted Yakou what happened just in time.

(Note: I make the red darker the more extreme the temperature and lighter the less extreme. I got to experiment with all sorts of new ways to color fevers hehe~ >w<)

(Page 7)

Yuma shockingly looks up at Yakou. Oh no, he was so BUSTED! Shinigami even says as much. Yakou practically scoops Yuma in his arms carrying him back to the agency. As he was lifted Yuma's world begun spinning. He could barely hear the chief nagging him in a panicked tone. It was all distorted and it was making his head hurt more. Yakou placed a hand to his cheek and was shocked by how hot it felt. All Yuma could do was apologize and hope his world stops spinning and that Yakou eventually stops yelling... (also I put numbers for the order to read the speech bubbles in)

Upon returning to the agency, Yakou dries Yuma off, asks Desuhiko to give him a warm set of clothes to borrow and put him to his own bed. Grabbing a basin of very cold water, washcloths and a digital thermometer. He placed one of the wet cold cloths under his bangs and upon reading the boy's temperature, it was high. Almost high enough to visit the ER. Yakou was even more mad, but speaks in a non yelling tone. Giving Yuma another stern warning to not leave the bed. To which Yuma weakly agrees to.

But Yakou's back to yelling again, feeling paranoid Yuma would be missing by the time he gets back from getting the supplies. So he drills that message right into the boy's already throbbing head once more. Everyone else in the office awkwardly listen in as the sick trainee gets scolded.

(Note: Just an FYI, Yuma's speech bubbles being wavy is a sign his voice is raspy and the text being a bit hard to read means his voice is hardly audible)

(Page 8)

Yakou leaves Yuma alone and walks into the office in his raincoat telling the other detectives that he'll be leaving soon and to watch over Yuma in his absence and NOT let him leave. He is so full of anger and anxiety that he yells at all of them too.

Everyone agrees and as Yakou leaves, they all discuss among themselves Yuma's state the days they were partners with him. He was in bad shape. And he only got worse as the days went by. They all knew.

(Page 9)

Meanwhile back in Yakou's quarters, Yuma was getting lectured yet again. This time by his death god partner, Shinigami. The poor trainee only wanted peace and quiet to make the pain in his head go away, using what little energy he has remaining speaking in his head he tried telling her to stop.

But the aggravated spirit persisted, saying that as his mentor she had the right to scold him just as much as Yakou. She continued her rant, until an abrupt sound from her master shut her up.

The few coughs that came from Yuma eventually erupted into a full blown coughing fit. The coughs sounding more wet, rough and serious. After coughing 10 to 15 times in a row Yuma was exhausted. Shinigami looked down at him panting with concern and pity in her eyes. She decided to stop the lecture for his sake.

After the fit, Yuma was left raggedly breathing. As Shinigami gave him her permission to rest and take it easy, he didn't answer. He couldn't. That fit completely mangled his throat. He was not able to speak vocally or in thought process anymore due to his head being in too much pain. As was the rest of his body, aching and burning. So he didn't answer her. All he could do was hope sleep would eventually take hold of him to make all this awful heat and pain stop even if for a just moment.

(Note: That's the penalty Yuma... x'D Sorry I gotta make him suffer lol. Also this is the only page that’s actually read left to right. I messed that up, sorry!!)

(Page 10)

After some time passed it was time for the Master Detectives to all take part in taking care of Yuma. The whole agency had a day off to do this. So upon his return, Yakou instructs everyone to look after Yuma in 2 hour shifts through the day. Even if it was just to watch him sleep. He couldn't be left alone.

Halara was first. Their task was to help Yuma take the medicine that was bought. There were three types of medicine for him to take. Antibiotics (white pills) for the general illness symptoms, painkillers (red and white pills) for the headache/fever, and finally...cough syrup. (aka his least favorite... XD) Halara made sure to be very gentle with Yuma propping him upward as his whole body was burning and he was very shaky. He even had trouble drinking the water, so Halara had to get a mug instead so they could help him drink it by holding the handle, and using the other hand to support his back. Despite the struggle, Halara worked diligently to complete their task as a caretaker in full. (as for who paid them to do this...idk I'll leave that to your imagination XD)

(The cough syrup idea was inspired by this fic :3)

Desuhiko had the second shift and the whole time he was waiting for his turn, he was writing a song for Yuma. Having the delusion that his angelic voice would lul the sick boy to sleep, he played his guitar and began singing. Yuma's headache did improve enough to speak in his head now, but that wouldn't last, as the loud noises from the guitar made his head pound even further with every strum. Shinigami begs for the noise to cease fire on her poor eardrums, but Yuma doesn't have it in him to stop Desuhiko. The gesture was kind so he decided to try to listen to the whole song, despite the noise. He does eventually tell him to stop though (using hand gestures) when another song comes afterward. So then the two spend their time conversing for a bit, (though desuhiko does more of the talking as yuma just nods or makes small noises/hand gestures due to his throat still hurting too much to talk) Desuhiko even telling him he could keep the sweater and shorts he had lent to him. To which Yuma softly smiles at him as a thank you before he eventually falls asleep again.

Fubuki has the third shift, and her task was to feed Yuma the warm vegetable soup that was bought earlier and that Halara had just finished making, along with Fubuki's help. She volunteers to feed him as she remembers a time she was ill as a child in the clockford mansion and one of her servants tended to her, feeding her soup just the same. Unfortunately, because this was a memory of her early childhood, she repeats similar phrases as the servant did when she was feeding Yuma, who was clearly not a small child. Yuma's fever had dropped enough to where he could find a bit of strength to try and sit up on his own now, and his once mangled throat’s condition had improved for him to speak a little bit. As he listened to Fubuki's rambling he tries to play along with her despite the whole thing being a bit embarrassing for someone his age. At least the soup was nice and warm. It felt good going down his very sore throat.

(Funny Fact: The order that Yuma is both partnered and tended to by each detective, is the same order as the chapters in game he's partnered with them LOL)

(Page 11)

It was evening, and now it was Vivia's turn to take the fourth and final shift. At first he was just going to sit and watch Yuma while he read his book quietly, but Yakou suggested that he read one of his books out loud to Yuma to help him relax better like a bedtime story. Vivia was unsure at first, as he's never read to anyone before. But he decided to give it a try. He asks Yuma what his preference in literature is before he starts, and Yuma tells him he enjoys detective novels the most. So he pulls out the novel that was in his reading list and begins to read it out loud to him. Turns out he was quite a natural at narrating, and his slow voice was very soothing. Yuma felt so relaxed that he felt like he would fall asleep any minute, but he tries to stay awake to listen to the story a bit more. Shinigami however, conks out immediately. (fyi: yes this is the novel Vivia talks about in his final gumshoe gab. I tried to make up stuff based on it.. X'D)

Once the clock strikes 9pm and night falls, the Master Detectives all wish Yuma well and leave to return to the hotel to retire for the night. It was just Yakou and Yuma now. Yakou, who had just come back from another errand, walks over to Yuma who was now fast asleep. He looked a little better so Yakou removed the towel from his forehead and places his hand onto it. It still felt warm but no longer as hot as it did hours ago. Meaning he was out of the danger zone, much to Yakou's relief. He places the towel back in the water basin wringing it out and re-applying it to his forehead. Then he lets out a yawn. He was pretty tired. He decides that instead of sleeping in the office on one of the sofas, he'd stay by Yuma's side. His removes his jacket, goes and turns off the overhead lights, sits down and places his head down on his desk. Then after telling the sleeping trainee goodnight he turns off the small light by his desk.

OKAY FUN FACT: The comic WAS going to end here going on to the final page... Buuut~ We were STARVING for some good ol' Yakou Fathero :3 So... Enjoy these bonus 6 pages of Yakou having a shift of his own to look after Yuma in the middle of the night. And its the longest shift.

This ones for you Yakou Fathero fans! Eat your fill!

(I know we sure did :3)

Also I apologize if the lighting here is inaccurate ;w; I tried my best I'm no pro LOL

(Page 12)

A little past midnight, Yuma was stirring in his sleep. Making all sorts of groaning sounds as if he was in pain. He was likely having a nightmare. This is confirmed by his eyes suddenly opening and him violently flinging himself up screaming, and the cold cloth flying off his forehead.

This sound wakes Yakou up immediately as he puts his glasses back on asking Yuma if he's okay. He flicks the light by his desk on to check on him. Yuma's found shaking with tears in his eyes stating quietly that it was just a dream. Yakou sympathizes with Yuma as fever dreams were usually not fun, but a fever NIGHTMARE was always bad. The chief offers the shaking trainee some water to try to help him settle down.

(FYI: Shinigami is going to be absent from this part of the story because I think her banter and antics would ruin the fluff, so she'll just be lurking above in the shelf like a cat the whole time.)

(Page 13)

Yuma accepts the water practically snatching it from Yakou's hands and quickly gulping it down. Yakou tells him to pace himself not wanting him to choke. Once he exhales from the water drink, Yuma sheepishly apologizes for waking Yakou up with his scream, feeling like a burden. Yakou reassures him it's okay and decides to ask him the question of why he pushed himself this far while he was still awake. Hard enough to make himself sick. Why did he do it?

Yuma was surprised by this but decides to try to tell him. He hands the water glass back and began talking. Under his raspy voice and somewhat heavy breathing, he says that he wanted to be useful as he felt like a burden to everyone since he lost his memory. He also says that he likes helping others and that it feels familiar to him. Determined to try to unlock a core memory of his past he kept doing this, even to the point of pushing his limits.

Then he suddenly stopped speaking...

(Page 14)

...aaand cue the coughing fit. Yuma's throat got scratchy and irritated after his long explanation, causing him to cough about 5/8 times in a row. Not as bad as his previous fit but it was more than enough to startle and worry Yakou.

Yakou quickly hands Yuma the water glass he had just taken from him hoping it would soothe his throat. He tells him that helping others is a good thing but he shouldn't push himself to the point that his health gets affected. Yuma quietly nods and as he sips the water still shaking, Yakou feels bad and decides to apologize to him for being harsh before. Stating that he only lost his temper because he was scared and worried for him. He also places his hand to Yuma's cheek in both comfort and to check his temperature. It felt slightly warmer than a few hours ago.

Yuma quietly apologizes to Yakou for worrying him, still holding the water glass. Yakou forgives him. Then he takes the glass from him and then the towel that fell off Yuma's forehead. He grabs a fresh one and soaks it in the basin wringing it out and places it back on the trainee’s forehead unintentionally a bit roughly. Yuma groans and shivers a little from the cold of it.

Yakou then lies Yuma back down, tucking him back in trying to make him comfortable. But his actions were a bit too comforting. He was not meaning to in any way and he wasn't sure what came over him, but he was treating Yuma like a little kid. Yuma notices and feels a little embarrassed by it, but decides to only say it in his head.

Yakou decides to do one more thing before he lets him go back to sleep.

(Note: Hey far as anyone's concerned Yuma, you are practically his BABY when you are having a sick day, so deal with it hehehe :3c)

(Page 15)

Temperature taking page time :D (my favorite, teehee! I know some cultures and in anime they take the temperature under the arm, but there's just something so endearing and adorable about a sickie with a thermometer in their mouth <3 OKAY MY RAMBLING ASIDE...)

Yakou is now a bit concerned that Yuma's fever spiked again after that little harsh coughing fit so he decides to take his temperature one more time before letting Yuma go to sleep again. Yuma obliges and goes along with it opening his mouth as the device is inserted.

After 15 seconds the device beeps and Yakou takes it out. Yuma shyly pulls the duvet up to his face and hides as he meekly asks if its any better feeling a little nervous. Yakou responds that it is better than it was the first time, where it was a dangerous degree.

However, he still wasn't out of the woods yet. The fever was still there and although it went down, it was still in the red. Yakou states that he's still feverish to which Yuma just apologizes. Poor thing just wants this to be over, he really doesn't want to trouble anyone anymore.

(sorry yuma I can't let you off that easily hehe 😈)

(also yes I put an instruction manual for how the thermometer works, I am so obsessed that I even give the thermometer lore LMAO. Sorry if I'm inaccurate in any of those readings. I used google... ^^;)

(Page 16)

Yakou places the thermometer back on the desk and tells Yuma to go to sleep. Saying the fever will likely break by morning. To which Yuma states that he's in Yakou's bed and that he should return to the checkered sofa so his boss could sleep, attempting to try getting up. But Yakou puts a hand on his shoulder stopping him and denies this and says his desk is fine and that Yuma needed the bed more than him.

He also says that if Yuma had another bad dream that he would be there for him. Yuma smiles at Yakou quietly thanking him as he's tucked back into the duvet. Yakou pats it gently telling the trainee to close his eyes.

It isn't long before Yuma is back to being fast asleep. (and shinigami too)

Yakou monologues to himself for a bit groaning at how much trouble this small detective has been for him since he showed up. But then he switches his tune and places a hand to Yuma's head petting it softly. He says he's happy he's working hard for the sake of his memories but right now he needs to work on getting better. Saying it would help everyone in the agency if he wanted to help people.

He wishes him well continuing to pet his head for a bit longer to soothe him before going back to sleep himself turning the light off again.

(Page 17)

2 hours later, Yuma was stirring and whining in his sleep once again. Yakou groggily wakes up wiping his tired eyes upon hearing the soft noises the small trainee was uttering. And he was crying again. Can only be one thing: Another nightmare.

Instead of turning the light on to wake him up, Yakou moves his chair close to him sitting at his side. Not saying a single word. (cept in his head lol) He reaches his hand for Yuma's as it twitches and he takes hold of it gently.

Yakou eventually leans on the bed as he does so and falls asleep sitting up again. Yuma's groaning and and heavy breathing begin to settle down a little as he felt Yakou's presence close by.

Then he smiles as he closes his hand in his sleep holding Yakou's hand back, leaning a bit close to it. He felt safe again... <3

(Note: This poor thing has way too much trauma... ;w; I headcanon that he's prone to night terrors on occasion, but when he gets a fever, its even WORSE. Fevers do be messing with your head... x3)

(Page 18 Final)

The next morning when Yakou wakes up, he checks on Yuma. He still felt slightly warm but he looked much better. Seemed the worst was over and it would likely last just one more day.

When he's fully awake and at his desk, Desuhiko shows up asking Yakou if Yuma's okay and offered to wake him up. Yakou denies it saying Yuma needed one more day of rest, the fever may have been only slight now, but in the rain it would rise again easily.

Desuhiko agrees and declares that he's going to work hard today. Likely to make up for Yuma's absence. Yakou teases him and the two have a bit of a banter.

Yuma meanwhile is asleep peacefully. Still having a slight red tint to his cheeks, but he's able to sleep a lot easier now. His fever was slowly but surely breaking. (now in the yellow) Shinigami sleeps beside him, making sure she protects him from any nightmares in yakou's absence. (after all only SHE can give her master nightmares)

He wakes up fully recovered the following morning thanking everyone for taking such good care of him, and he makes sure to not push himself anymore. And continues searching for the city's ultimate secret while pacing himself to help others from now on.

THE END ❤️

(I practically made this into a sickfic in its own right... XD)

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!! This is just a little artist credit page I made for Kazin and I c: Also art semi-face reveal?? xD Kinda?? Idk lol (we just two gals that like our sick comfort haha x3)

Anyway thank you again Kazin for doing this with me!! It was hard work but it was a blast and the final result came out amazing. Its surely a project I will cherish forever~ 💜🩷✨🌡️

A wholesome story to start 2024 on a good note.

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accio-victuuri · 5 months

Text

Xiao Zhan Marie Claire Cover story | Rules & Inches

When I say the word "future",

The first syllable is in the past.

When I say the word "silence",

I've broken it.

When I say the word "nothing",

I have created something that nothingness itself can grasp.

——Vislava Szymborska, "The Three Strangest Words"

Xiao Zhan held up a handheld fan to dry the sweat from the filming. When the photographer signaled the start, he stepped forward, stepped back, walked again, and continued to retreat. The props on his back are like airplanes, and his eyes are constantly searching for the camera, and he is like a naughty child exploring an unknown world. Every time I go back and forth, I am thinking about the more refined possibilities between advancement and retreat.

It’s hard not to notice Xiao Zhan’s sense of proportion. When being interviewed, he has a catchphrase: "Can you say this?" Or, as if to confirm himself, "You can say it like this." He also reflects on himself all the time. For example, I repeatedly remind myself not to let my performance become inertia. Once I get used to it, it will develop into terrible inertia. For example, he often emphasizes that he doesn't like to make mysteries, and he may not understand many truths. What he shares is only his sincere daily feelings. For another example, when he heard a crew member commenting on his "striving for excellence", he responded that he had not yet reached "refinement" and only wanted to "benefit".

Xiao Zhan spoke slowly and eloquently. He did not have a thunderous and fiery personality. He chatted calmly and had the ancient style of a benevolent gentleman. He's not tight at all. They chatted all over the world, and when they got to the point where they were enjoying themselves, they naturally leaned back on the chair and gently held their right legs with both hands. The content of the chat ranged from the unchanging emotions contained in the golden songs of the times to AI, the views on human beings, as well as his own performances and life experiences.

In 2023, three TV series starring Xiao Zhan will be broadcast one after another. He played the colorful father, the lonely and cold eldest son, and the newcomer who struggled in the workplace. Every time he enters a crew, he will dream about real scenes and real pressure related to filming. After the dream is over, he sinks himself into the heart of the character and performs it, leaving vivid memories and feelings.

There is a ruler in the heart and a square inch outside the body. What's appropriate is Xiao Zhan's inner view, his precise view of work, life and himself. A few inches away is Xiao Zhan's external perspective, his perceptual understanding of the past, time, space and the world. Between the length and the shortness of a ruler, heaven and earth appear.

======

Three TV series have been aired and new dramas are being filmed. For actor Xiao Zhan, 2023 is a fruitful year.

Occasionally, when he looks back on his career as an actor, Xiao Zhan will be in a daze for a moment. In the blink of an eye, it seems that he has been there for a long time. Almost every time he shoots a movie, he has a routine: dreaming. I dreamed about memorizing lines, dreaming about acting against a director, or even dreaming about taking a math test, but couldn’t solve any of the questions on the paper, and then I woke up with a start.

Xiao Zhan felt that this was caused by pressure, and he accepted it calmly. Perhaps there is another reason. Deep down in his heart, he does not regard himself as a qualified actor, but always puts himself in the position of a newcomer, with an attitude of learning and exploration. Therefore, every time he goes to a crew, he has the experience of starting all over again.

Xiao Zhan is very wary of inertia. Sometimes he also advises himself not to be under so much pressure, not to get into trouble, and to try to be more relaxed. But once he realizes that he starts to rely on performance models, experiences and habits, he will remind himself that taking things for granted is dangerous. After a long time of inertia, inertia will occur, and inertia will lead to "taken for granted". Therefore, every time he interprets a role, he always has to gain some freshness.

Xiao Chunsheng in "Where Dreams Begin" is a character full of freshness. Because there are extremely obvious differences between him and Xiao Zhan himself. Xiao Chunsheng is a young man in Beijing in the 1970s, which is completely different from the era and environment in which Xiao Zhan grew up.

Military coats, "28 big bar" bicycles, the ice surface of Shichahai, and the transformation from a young boy to a middle-aged entrepreneur are not familiar to Xiao Zhan. To this day, Xiao Zhan can still see "traces" of Xiao Chunsheng: when it comes to the character Chen Hongjun in the play, he always says "Hong Jun'er". Those were the Beijing movies and Er Huayin that I practiced when filming started. "Ouch" and "Ouch" were all words on Xiao Zhan's lips.

The language, objects and sense of time are all okay. For Xiao Zhan, the biggest difference from Xiao Chunsheng is his personality. He is an "I person" who enjoys being alone, while Xiao Chunsheng is the complete opposite. He makes many friends and loves to socialize too much. Measured by today's standards, this extreme warm-heartedness often means a lack of a sense of boundaries. "The times are developing faster and faster. Today's young people are living a fast-paced life and will not easily cross the boundaries of getting along." Xiao Zhan commented, "But Xiao Chunsheng is an extremely meddlesome person, so it is easy to offend Someone else." When he read the script, he was quite intimidated by this role and felt that it would be difficult to act like it. But after hesitating for a long time, a thought suddenly caught his attention: Maybe the qualities we care about today contain exactly what we need.

Fresh, this is Xiao Zhan’s summary of Xiao Chunsheng and his contemporaries. "If you hate them, you hate them. If you like them, you like them. Don't you think the colors of each of them are particularly bright?" he asked. Even now, when thinking back to some scenes in "The Sea in Dreams", he still feels that the characters are shining brightly and vividly.

After playing Xiao Chunsheng, a person who is far away from current values, Xiao Zhan also gained something in terms of mentality: don't be afraid of making mistakes. He said: "A truly lovable character will have imperfections." During the filming, he once asked the director if it was particularly annoying for Xiao Chunsheng to worry so much about others. The director told him that it was precisely because of this "annoyance" that he was Xiao Chunsheng, and "annoyance" was his charm.

The director's words suddenly awakened Xiao Zhan. Sometimes he would fall into a strange circle, hoping to avoid and correct the imperfections of the character. "When you change it like this, the character itself loses its charm." Xiao Zhan said, "So I think you should not be afraid when doing homework for the character. Be enthusiastic when you should be enthusiastic, and cross the boundary when you should. If you always consider the character's The shortcoming is, thinking about what will happen if the audience scolds me, it will be difficult to act." Because actors play roles, not personalities.

Not being afraid of flaws, to some extent, also means the courage and ability to seek truth. "Sunshine by my Side" is Xiao Zhan's first appearance in an urban workplace drama. His reason for taking on this drama is simple: modern dramas are too close to reality and everyone is living it, so it is difficult to perform it to make everyone believe it. Because he was unsure and confident, he firmly believed that he would learn something after "gnawing" it down. Thus, the character Sheng Yang came into being.

"Sunshine by my Side" made Xiao Zhan realize that urban dramas rely heavily on the cooperation between actors. Because it is more life-like, every point will not be stuck, and the lines and performances will be slightly adjusted. "We are all living people, and we do not exist to maintain a persona. What everyone does, says, and expresses emotions are natural, reasonable, and flowing. If you change, my performance will also change. It will change accordingly." Xiao Zhan said that this kind of creative coupling eliminates the possibility of actors being rigid and mechanical, so it is a fresh and fun experience.

Sheng Yang is a designer, which happens to be the job that Xiao Zhan has done. With personal experience, flexibility during performance can be guaranteed. "When Shengyang wanted to draw the design drawings, I would actually draw them there. Sometimes I would tell them, art teacher, your layers seem to be locked and I can't move." Xiao Zhan recalled, " Because it's his own life, he's better at it. Can you say that? Okay." He never forgets his sense of proportion when it comes to his true feelings.

Xiao Zhan is no stranger to TV series with fantasy themes. "Yuguyao" is the most recent example. For him, acting in a play with such an imaginary background requires a process of starting from scratch. Facing a green screen, if you want to imagine extreme weather or breathtaking scenery, you need to create it yourself. As for whether the state is real and whether the emotion is subtle, more often than not, one has to trust the evaluation made by the director behind the monitor.

Whether it is a costume drama or a modern drama, Xiao Zhan always has a clear understanding of the script and characters. "There are always few good things at any time, which is why people always say that they are rare." He recalled his observations over the years, "Some scripts may be considered good by the industry, but the market feedback may not be so good. Everyone What is the definition of good? Is it good sales or good word-of-mouth? It's hard to judge." Therefore, what he can do now is to return to his own understanding and feelings and choose what he thinks is the best. Role. As for what role he most wants to play, Xiao Zhan said: "I have been mentioning it for many years, a cute and charming villain, if I get the chance."

=======

When reading the script of "Where Dreams Begin", Xiao Zhan's mind would be filled with photos of his parents when they were young.

Dad is riding a bicycle, and mom is sitting in the back seat, wearing a red skirt and a white shirt. When passing a big rock, my father took a photo of my mother as a souvenir. She smiles brightly in the camera, looking like a bright girl. When it was his turn to play the role of his parents in their youth, he tried his best to restore the freshness and even madness of youth. He did not want to deliberately portray the story in a rigid and serious direction just because it was a story about his father's generation.

Xiao Zhan seems to have a special sense of time. He is nostalgic. Whether singing in variety shows and evening parties, or listening to them in private, he always has a preference for old songs. They are memorable, rich in meaning, and give him space to think.

When he was a child, he didn't have much pocket money, so Xiao Zhan would go to the video store to rent CDs, or exchange CDs and tapes with his classmates. The prices can still be clearly remembered to this day. To this day, he still has the CD player and Walkman he used back then in his home. Sometimes, he returns to wired headphones because they are convenient and easy to find. In the dead of night, he would occasionally think of objects that were gradually disappearing in the torrent of time. Being alone, with his heart flowing, is his comfortable state.

Xiao Zhan said that he is a very homely person and has to stay at home. During his spare time, he just works out and watches movies. He never regards watching movies as a task. He watches everything regardless of genre, whether it is popular movies such as popcorn movies or niche movies such as art films. Recently, he watched "The Fall", the best film at the 2023 Cannes International Film Festival.

Around New Year, he often revisits "Love Actually" and watches it again every two or three years. The reason is also very straightforward. The family, love, and friendship in the movie all convey truth, goodness and beauty, which makes people feel heart-warming when watching them.

"Don't you think that the emotions between people have never changed? Old movies will always be read and watched, and old songs will always be listened to over and over again, because the emotions sung by truly classic works remain unchanged through the ages. Only sincerity can move people." Xiao Zhan seemed to have a sudden inspiration and compared it with AI, "I think AI cannot replace humans. Maybe its technology can one day surpass the limits of humans, but that kind of complex emotions , humans far surpass computers. It can be said that humans are the most accurate, mysterious, and complex supercomputers."

Xiao Zhan will pay attention to AI, just like he pays attention to all new things in the world that are deeply related to people. He watched the news and read things written by AI. The depth of thought and logic of thinking made him incredible. Perhaps, in some job competitions, the threat of AI to human beings is already close at hand, but he still firmly believes that AI cannot replace face-to-face communication between people, whether it is immediacy or complexity.

When these distant concerns about new things are temporarily put aside, Xiao Zhan also has his own expectations for the world.

When filming "Ace Troops" a few years ago, in order to play a soldier who was concerned with the national image, Xiao Zhan observed and trained in the army for more than a week. He got up at five or six in the morning every day and ate and lived with the soldiers. After performing this play, he felt the cruelty of war and understood the hard-won peace. "I cherish my current life more. This is the truth." Xiao Zhan said. Therefore, the current vision of world peace may also be related to infinite distances and countless people.

As for his expectations for himself, he outlined it more simply: "I have done very well in 2023, and I hope I can maintain it." After thinking for a while, he added: "In 2024, I hope to love myself more and care more. Some of my own feelings and thoughts. This sentence is not only for myself, but also for everyone."

In Xiao Zhan's mind, he is different on screen and in real life. In private, he will not modify himself too much, nor will he dress too brightly. He just wants to be natural and true to himself.

"Just like the current chat, just keep it in this comfortable state. I won't change my face and play another person." Xiao Zhan said, "It's too tiring. Too tiring." He repeated twice all over.

A poet wrote, "My heart is slightly larger than the entire universe." Outside Xiao Zhan's small space, there is the restraint of "strategy" and the vastness of "universe".

LINK TO THE ARTICLE

#xiao zhan #accio victuuri translation #what a busy day wtf #what an insightful piece!!!!#OMG NOW I WANNA REWATCH LOVE ACTUALLY!!!!!#and yes i love the era of cds!!!!!#i can totally relate to the nostalgia cause i’m one year older than him #and i love that they talked about AI

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 5 months

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heyyy! I saw you are writing for the balsas of songbirds and snakes? Can you do Coriolanus x reader!fem, you can CHOOSE the plot, and can you make it a little long???

This was a bit difficult to get to since I had no clue what to write 😭 Don’t worry though, I kinda liked this creative freedom

Coriolanus Snow x Fem! Reader (romantic)

I did have reader take the place of Lucy Gray. Instead of singing, reader is picking nearby flowers or something silly idk

Summary: Coriolanus is off in District Twelve and goes off to find the reader within the district.

The sun pelted down on Coriolanus' pale skin; the softness of his clean skin grew sticky with sweat. The sky held no clouds, just blue. His clothes grew uncomfortable as he made his way through District Twelve.

Coriolanus had walked around town for several minutes, maybe thirty, forty? He had almost grown tired. But he continued, hoping to find a place called "the seam", or whatever the people of District Twelve called area.

The dirt on the ground had grown from a deep brown to a vibrant dry brown, the water sucked from the ground by the sun beating down on it. Sweat slowly dripped down from Coriolanus' forehead. Oh, how he wanted to give up. But the idea of finding his pretty victor drew him deeper into the town.

Coriolanus' eyes drew wide as he looked around the township, looking at the decrepit houses that drew worse looker the farther he went from the town square. The red brick buildings within the town square slowly turned to greying metal or cement housing, vines crawling up the side of the houses.

Several people were outside their homes, cleaning their porches or picking at the plants just below the shingles of house. Coriolanus glanced from each of the homes, watching the children near their homes run with each other. He turned his head away and continued down the road, his head held high, remembering what he was truly walking these disgusting streets for.

Coriolanus finally stopped in front of a home, a grey home that looked similar to the others around it. But what was different was the people standing in their backyard.

A short, blonde girl kneeled over a short green plant, plucking the vibrantly red strawberries from their stems with a sharp pull. The sound of a soft ‘thud’ made Coriolanus realize there was a small brown basket near her feet. Occasionally, she would take the fruits from their stems and eat them, turning away to not get caught by a dark-haired girl nearby.

Coriolanus cleared his throat before calling out to the dark-haired gal. "Hello! Can I speak with you quick?" The girl looked up to him before looking to the blonde girl, saying something, then walking to him.

"May I help you?" She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. He couldn't help thinking she was only being nice because he obviously looked like a peacekeeper.

"Yes, you can. I was looking for (Y/n). I was told by my friend she lived here or nearby," Coriolanus replied. He glanced at the blonde girl near the strawberries, who stared at him too. The dark-haired girl raised her brow and nodded.

"Yes, she does. She's not here right now." The dark-haired girl remarked. The blonde girl behind her picked up the basket with a huff, hauling it onto her arm, in the curve of her elbow.

"Who're you looking for?" The blonde asked, looking him up and down. Coriolanus turned to her and smiled, hoping to seem friendlier so they don't think he's there for something else.

"Maude Ivory, I can handle this myself. Now go put the strawberries in the house," the dark-haired girl muttered. The girl named Maude Ivory gave her a quick look, almost determined before turning back to Coriolanus.

"Who are you looking for?" Maude Ivory asked again.

"(Y/n). I've been meaning to see her," Coriolanus answered.

"(Y/n)? She's out in the field." She smiled at him. "She didn't say she was expecting visitors." Maude Ivory said to the dark-haired girl then turned to the house.

The girl glances at Maude Ivory as she walks towards their home then turns back to him. "(Y/n)'s in the field just down the road. The road stops going after a bit but there's a big tree near the clearing, the field really, that she likes. You'll find her there."

Coriolanus nods and thanks her quickly before making his way down the road. He looked over his shoulder and saw the lady huff a sigh of relief at him not being there for other reasons. But he couldn't care about what they could be so worrisome about, he was too busy thinking about you.

He followed the path to the best of his abilities, trying to go to where the gal had told him to. Down the road until it ended and to a tree in the clearing. It was a pretty sight, the green and brown of the trees degrading into the sun yellow of the grass.

Nonetheless, he pursued into the tall plants. And the dark-haired girl was right, the clearing led to a tree overlooking the rest of the field. As he walked over the tall grass around him, he tried looking for you.

And he was so happy when he finally saw you, sitting below the branches of the tree, picking the yellowing flowers around you.

His eyes almost stared daggers into your back, but not in a negative way. It was in a way he meant he could stare at you forever and ever. Your skin was not covered in blood and dirt, it was clean and unbruised. It was almost odd to see, it was like you were an entirely different person, not the one he had mentored during the Games or the person he had kept safe in the arena.

The weeks he had been training and not looking for you properly had done you good, your skin was now unscathed, the cuts you sustained in the arena now were only (nearly) invisible scars. You must have gotten all pretty for him, just in case he found you again.

Coriolanus couldn't deny, you looked beautiful. You were like a vibrant flower amongst wilted ones, vibrant and fresh, unlike the rest of your district. You may have looked beautiful, sitting alone in a field, but you would have looked more beautiful in his arms. You used to be his tribute, but you were now his girl. His.

He couldn't help but question if you would recognize him. His hair was buzzed, and he did not wear the clothes he used to wear. Coriolanus was not the same as he was before, physically at least. But he hoped you adored him as much as you had before.

The yellowing green grass stood tall in the flowing wind, shining bright in the yellow sun. The grass slowly drew to white then yellowing, fresh dandelions. The plants below Coriolanus' feet made a rustling sound. His boot was brought town in a lazy yet harsh way, putting more weight into the step. The sudden sound of rustling grass caused you to jolt in the direction of the sound.

Neither you nor Coriolanus said a word as you stared; the silence was only halted by the wind in the grass. He stood under the tree, the shade falling over his face, over his eyes, and hiding the odd feelings he felt when he saw you. Maybe it was love or adoration, or something else he didn't think was important. But he couldn't tell which he felt, and he didn't care.

"I'm sorry, every sound scares me ever since I've left the arena," you say suddenly. Sitting down your basket, you stand to greet him. Smoothing out your clothes, you gazed at him, slowly stepping closer to him. "Why are you here? How'd you get here?"

The suddenness of the question made Coriolanus think of how embarrassed he felt when he remembered getting caught by Dr Gaul and Dean Highbottom. God, he wanted to forget that moment once and for all.

"I did some things I shouldn't have for you to win. I messed with the Games a little too much." Coriolanus said, hoping to lighten the mood. You didn't smile but nodded in understanding.

"You killed that boy, Bobbin, right? I remember seeing Coral going after you when you were in the arena too," you remarked. You didn't say anything again, expecting a direct answer.

"It was the only thing I could do; he would have killed me if I hadn't." Coriolanus returned, hoping you would understand his murder. He didn't need to kill Bobbin; he was weak, and Coriolanus had hit him several times. But that odd feeling he felt when he raised his arm again to strike Bobbin, he couldn't help it. Coriolanus couldn't help liking it.

You gaze at him for several seconds, then nod and walk closer. Your hands were close to your body. "Coriolanus, I don't want you seeing me differently because of what I had to do in that arena," you mutter and purse your lips. "I don't view you differently for what you had to do."

He couldn't stand the idea of seeing you differently, he wouldn't be able to. You were still the kind girl he had spoken to in the monkey house, and you were the same kind girl he was looking at now. There wasn't anything different about you, except for the fact you were better fed and weren't dirty unlike how you were in the Capital.

"I don't see you differently. You haven't changed at all." Coriolanus spoke, peering at you, his eyes harder than he would prefer. "You're still you, even if you hurt a couple people. I hurt people too, but you don't see me differently."

Staring at him, you walked closer until the tip of your boots touch his. Your face was soft as you looked up at his lips and into his eyes. Coriolanus stared at you just as much, maybe more than you did. But he didn't care. You were beautiful and he couldn't help thinking of how willing you were to get closer to him.

Coriolanus adored the closeness, it felt awkward, but he liked it, nonetheless. Seeing so much of you, the small details of your skin and the intricacies of your eyes were so much for him. He couldn't stop the feeling of warmth from flooding his face.

"You promise? Nothing will change." You mutter and look into his eyes. Coriolanus pursed his lips and nodded. His hand crept closer to yours, his fingers slowly intertwined with yours.

"I promise, nothing will change. You aren't the person you were in the arena. None of the things you did will hurt you now. You did what you must." He stated with a small harshness in his voice. Maybe it was your willingness to believe Coriolanus wouldn't see you the same when you were exactly how you were before. You were still kind and beautiful, but the one thing you weren't before was his girl, romantically, at least.

Silence followed his statement; you didn't know what else to say. Maybe you could smile and thank him or say something kind back to him. But Coriolanus already chose for you. His hand pulled yours just enough to pull you into him. His hand moved up your arm and to your face, holding you softly in his hands.

You looked delicate in his grasp; the skin of your face was soft against his callused hands. Your eyes were so soft too, it was like you were asking to get a kiss from him. He'd hope he'd give you a better kiss than he did back in the Capital.

Coriolanus' movement was swift, he didn't need to hesitate, he knew what he wanted. His, slightly bruised, lips pressed against your delicate ones. You were obviously caught off guard by the feeling, but you accepted it quickly, pressing against him too.

His grasp was tight on your hands, holding them against his chest, hoping to keep you close. He needed to kiss you more. The split on his lip nearly opened as he pressed harder against your lips.

You had to pull away at some point, needing to breath was pretty important. But Coriolanus didn't want to pull away, something ate at him. If you allowed him, he would do so much more.

So sorry this took so long omg.

My tbosas masterlist

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bloobluebloo · 4 months

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Me: "I think Ganondorf in mundane situations is so cute" Also me: "Ganondorf would annoy the fuck out of Rauru with mundane gestures."

“Thank you for joining me, Ganondorf. Please, help yourself.” Rauru watched as the Gerudo chief lifted his hand, gingerly plucking a sugar cube off the top of the small mound of similar, perfectly squared sugar cubes. Instead of dropping it in his tea cup, as he would expect any ordinary person to do, let alone a man who was considered a king by birth, he instead dipped it into his tea. His fingers, as large and unwieldy as they seemed, twisted the cube in the warm liquid, careful in keeping his own fingers as dry as possible while wetting the entire surface of the cube in hand.Once the chief seemed satisfied, he popped the sugar cube in his mouth, chasing it with a sip of tea. He proceeded to slowly suckle on the sugar cube, savouring it for a few moments, before his fingers would reach for another sugar cube to repeat the process over again. And again. Rauru had instructed his constructs to lay out the best Hyrule had to offer for their breakfast in the privacy of Hyrule Castle’s gardens. There were fruits, plump and unblemished, picked from the finest orchards Hateno Village had to offer. There were all manner of baked goods laid out in baskets, fresh butter and yoghurt, not to mention specialty jams that were difficult to procure. Though he was keeping Ganondorf close due to his suspicion, he still ensured that he was being as hospitable as a king inviting a fellow ruler should be. Yet, Ganondorf did not touch anything save for the tea and the sugar cubes, the dish quickly depleting of the square, sugary lumps, the victim of the Gerudo chief’s…eclectic manner of consuming tea. How else could he possibly describe this odd behaviour? “What.” Rauru blinked, suddenly aware of the Gerudo chief staring back at him. Ganondorf, for all the backhand compliments and underhanded threats he had offered Rauru in swearing fealty to him, was a man who preferred silence otherwise. The smirk that played at his lips was a clear indication to Rauru that Ganondorf had noticed Rauru’s consternation, his abrupt comment being purposeful and, admittedly, effective. Rauru cleared his throat, taking a moment to compose himself, before looking at Ganondorf with what he hoped was something that masked how he truly felt about this odd scene. “I was simply…curious. I have never seen anyone have tea in such a manner before. Is this a Gerudo custom perhaps?” Ganondorf stared at him for a moment, before letting his gaze drift to the sugar cube between his fingers, turning it over as if he were contemplating the question. His smirk widened just a mite before dipping the sugar cube into his tea, as he had done the past dozen of times. The dish holding the sugar cubes was noticeably empty on the table filled with abundance. “No.” “Oh,” was all Rauru could manage as he watched Ganondorf pop the last sugar cube into his mouth. He called a construct over, instructing it to refill the dish with more lumps of sugar, almost as if it would somehow assuage the strange mixture of confusion and embarrassment that welled in the Hyrulean king’s chest.

This was going to be a long morning.

#see guys I swear I write fanfic #anyways this was inspired by the first time I had Bosnian coffee with a group of lovely Bosnian ladies #ganondorf #rauru

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freesia-writes · 4 months

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Hunter Fic Sneak Peek

I was cracking myself up writing this little snippet of the Hunter fic I'm working on, and figured I'd share it with you all... with absolutely no context whatsoever. ;) Enjoy a laugh!

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They paused by the cart, Echo giving Hunter an unreadable look.

“What?”

“You and Cross alright? That seemed a little heated.”

“I never know,” Hunter sighed. “He said it was to impress the crowd.”

“Well, it worked…” Echo noted with a dry chuckle.

“Meh. He’s always got a stick up his–”

“Hello!” Echo interrupted, nodding behind Hunter to Lyra, who had approached from the last stall of the market. A large canvas bag slung over her shoulder was full of flowers and fruits, providing a pop of color against the loose, sage green jumpsuit she wore beneath a long beige cardigan.

“Hi,” Lyra said sheepishly, offering a small wave to both. “I was told I had to come see the fighting.”

“Oh really,” Hunter said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And who told you that?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled, “But it sounded like the showdown of the century.”

“It felt like the cheap shot of the century,” Hunter grumbled, hand returning to his back where his spine had hit a particularly hard patch of dirt.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, “You hurt?”

“No.” His answer was almost too fast, and Echo bit back a smirk at the thinly-veiled indignation.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can barely walk after yesterday,” Lyra offered, patting her own backside. She was of course referring to the tumble she’d taken down the beach cliff, landing squarely on her tailbone on the rocky shore beneath, but Echo knew nothing about that, a loud guffaw bursting out of him.

“Oh really?” he said, turning toward Hunter with an overly-dramatic tilt of the head. If looks could kill, he would have been dissolved on the spot, but he was free to waggle his eyebrows and nod enthusiastically. “Sounds like you two have been having some fun!”

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Sorry Hunter. ;)

Wanna be on the tag list for this story? Sign up here. ❤️ And enjoy the Master List of Goodies in preparation for the May release!

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb fanart #star wars fanfiction #bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #hunter fic #hunter fanfic

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awesomesauce-abbie · 2 months

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Braving the storm

Word Count: 991

TW: None

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing for Lotor and my first time writing for over a year so please feel free to leave any constructive criticism and let me if you enjoyed the post! Requests are closed as I can’t guarantee I’ll be posting frequently.

You and Prince Lotor had landed on an unknown jungle planet in hopes of finding food and shelter. The sinclince ship was fine but not exactly comfortable and your food supplies were nonexistent, purchasing them from a civilised planet was out of the question now that Lotor was labelled a traitor to the Galra Empire. His generals had abandoned him but not you, your loyalty to the prince was unshakable and was your love for him even if it was possibly unrequited. Lotor was a brilliant fighter and an even better strategist who unlike most Galra had a heart and cared about the lives of others including the lives of the planets he once conquered. He was so different from his monster of a father and was now wanted dead because of it. How lonely he must be you thought to yourself, even if your heart was broken you were glad to have stayed by his side.

You were distracted from your thoughts as Lotor approached you. “Here, it's not much but you should eat” The Galran prince held out a large unusual-looking fruit, it looked like an apple but it was the size of a melon, square-shaped and cobalt blue. “Thank you, sir” you smiled politely and took the fruit. “Oh come now, it's just the two of us. There is no need for titles” Lotor chuckled before taking a bite out of his space apple. “Sorry, I’m not used to addressing you so formally si-Lotor” you quickly corrected yourself, something that Lotor didn’t miss. He chuckled again, the noise was music to your ears. It was so rare for him to have a genuine smile let alone a real laugh, you committed the sound to memory lest you never heard it again. You had been staring at him for a few minutes now as you quietly munched on your fruit, you looked up to the sky and immediately frowned. The clouds, which had been white and fluffy less than an hour ago, were now a dark grey. “Looks like we’ll have a storm tonight” you muttered miserably “yes, we’ll have to find some kind of shelter. The sincline ship aren’t exactly comfortable but I did spot a small cave not far from here, it should be satisfactory for tonight.”

You both finished your food which was surprisingly filling despite its small size before gathering the few supplies you had and headed to the cave. It was small but it was dry and on higher ground so there was little chance of getting flooded. Lotor made a small fire just as the rain started but then there was the sound you dreaded most. Booming thunder, you thought your eardrums were about to burst. The horrid sound made you jump and you covered your ears just as the sky was lit up by a flash of lightning. You were shaking like a leaf, oblivious to the worried stares Lotor was giving you. The rain pounded on the roof of rock and the thunder only seemed to be getting louder, it wasn’t long before you were trembling and on the verge of tears. Lotor moved over to you and carefully placed a hand on your shoulder, you flinched at his sudden touch but looked up at him. Before he could get another word in, the thunder boomed again and you practically jumped into Lotor’s arms. He held you tightly for a few moments, a soft smile on his face. “It’s alright darling, you’re safe here with me” he said soothingly almost in a whisper before using one hand to cover an ear and pulled you into his chest. His gloved hand offered more protection from the storm, you focused on his heartbeat as you found it soothing and soon enough the calming rhythm lulled you to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, Lotor still had his arms wrapped around you. The storm passed, the sun shined brightly in the morning sky and it was a peaceful start to the day. You tried to sit up without waking him up but your efforts were in vain. He opened his eyes with a tired groan and looked over at you with a small smile. “Good morning, sleep well?” He asked, sitting up and moving away to give you space. You tried not to show the sadness on your face as you nodded. “I did thanks to sir, I appreciate what you did for me.” Lotor smirked at you “I told you to drop the titles or do you not remember? Never mind that I’m glad I was able to help you brave the storm and I will happily do it again for you.” Your heart pounded as he moved closer to you, any closer and you’re sure he would be able to hear your heartbeat. “T-that’s very generous of you Lotor” You smiled bashfully as you looked down to avoid his gaze. He reached out and cupped your chin in his hand and lifted your head up. “It’s the least I can do for the person who stolen my heart” he leaned in and kissed you. It was soft, delicate, you thought you were still asleep and having the most wonderful dream but you opened your eyes as Lotor’s warm lips were on your own. He pulled away shortly after, the kiss had been real and it had been perfect.

“You stole my heart long ago, my precious starlight but with so many eyes on us I feared that you would be in danger if you ever discovered how I truly feel about you. You understand don’t you?” Lotor was anxious as he asked but all you could do was smile. “Of course I understand, Lotor your heart isn’t the only that was stolen” you chuckled, his face broke out into a grin as he kissed you once more and you knew that you could brave any storm with Lotor at your side.

#lotor x reader #prince lotor x reader #voltron x reader #voltron #vld lotor #lotor x you #prince lotor

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random-french-girl · 1 year

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Hey @jimalim... I know it's been FOREVER but I have not forgotten about this, and I happen to have some time today, so, here are a few thoughts:

I think the first few days, maybe the first week, they don't do anything apart from figuring out their new life (finding the apartment and getting a job and working on their cover story and waiting for news or orders from the OCS and planning out Ava's training). But as they get settled, I love the idea of the two of them finding... not quite hobbies, but small activities to do in their downtime, that they enjoy?

a) Ava takes swimming lessons at the public pool, and when the class ends she keeps going to the pool, because she finds out that she loves the water - floating makes her feel free, strangely, weightless and peaceful ; she likes the burn in her muscles when she swims laps ; and she LOVES organizing cannonball contests with all the little kids she met in swimming class, and splashing everyone, even (especially?) when it ends with Bea scolding her and then wrapping her in a huge fluffy towel and offering to dry her hair.

b) Beatrice goes to the public library at least twice a week. She stays there for an hour or so, perusing the shelves, pulling out books that she's curious about, reading in the quiet room, in one of the comfy armchairs. She also brings back books for Ava - Ava gives her very broad directions, like "i want to read about mushrooms" or "get me the most romantic story they have" (that request makes Bea unreasonably nervous), and Beatrice loves trying to find the perfect pick for Ava - she misses research! - and loves Ava's delighted reaction every time.

c) They both start going to the farmer's market that takes place every Saturday morning in the town square. Ava chats up all the vendors, learns their names and their entire family history ; she makes friends with an old shepherd selling goat cheese, and with the woman who sells honey, and always comes back with gifts, and gossip. Beatrice wanders through the fruits and vegetable stalls, internally making their weekly meal plan as she goes, and allowing the purchase of small treats (fresh strawberries, a still-warm brioche, the most beautiful tomatoes) that she pretends are only for Ava's sake, though she enjoys them just as much as Ava.

d) They take turns cooking. I know a lot of people believe that Beatrice can't cook - not me! I think she can cook very well, she has all the technical skills, and she's used to it too, since meal preparation was part of the collective life at the convent. But she doesn't take a lot of pleasure in cooking - it's just a necessary chore for her. Ava, on the other hand, LOVES cooking, because it's so new, and it reminds her of Mary, in Matteo's restaurant. She's very enthusiastic, and creative, which sometimes leads to utter disaster, and sometimes to absolute masterpieces that she is completely unable to recreate.

e) Beatrice likes to pick flowers. The alpine meadows are filled with wildflowers, this time of year, and whenever she takes Ava out for a day of training, she can't resist plucking one, maybe two, on their way back, and inhaling the scent, and brushing her fingers along the soft smooth petals, and enjoying the vibrant colors. The beauty of flowers is one of the few things she still finds easy to praise God for. She doesn't think Ava notices, because Ava is either trailing a few feet behind her, grumbling and sweaty and muttering about very unfair training coaches, or distracted by a baby cow, or, more rarely, walking quietly beside her. But Ava does notice, and one day Beatrice comes home after a day shift to find an enormous bouquet on their rickety kitchen table. Ava spent the day picking flowers for her, she explains, both obviously very proud of herself, and also visibly flustered, for some reason, and Beatrice's stomach does a weird swoopy thing that she decides to ignore, but she's smiley and warm and fond all evening, and doesn't even protest when Ava makes her watch some dreadful Swiss reality TV.

#avatrice #ava x beatrice #warrior nun #i had to limit myself actually cause i have. so many headcanons about switzerland - as we all do...#anyway. my kingdom for a drawing of ava faced with a baby cow for the first time and beatrice handling the cuteness overload poorly #jimalim

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lemonluvgirl · 10 months

Text

ROLE REVERSAL: More Hijacked Katniss AU (Alternate version of the lunch room scene)

"Your bread used to taste better." She says conversationally, as if she just wants to contribute something to the lunch room discussion, but her eyes cut to him and stay there. Narrowed and waiting for his reaction. All around them, their table grows quiet. Finnick stops separating Annie's carrots and peas on her plate. Gale's head snaps up from where he had been determinedly staring at his garlic/squash soup and shoveling it into his mouth dispassionately. And Haymitch cocks his head in her direction attentively. They are all watching her. This is the most she's said to him in days since their last botched interaction.

Peeta, though, keeps quiet as per their mentor's advice. Holding back a million things, he could say in reply. Like how District 13 only keeps the barest of ingredients in stock to make their food. No spices or herbs to add flavor. No add-ins like fruits or nuts or even butter can be spared from their spartan like rationing. Their ovens are also huge and dont heat to temperature evenly. They are for making large quantities of food fast and easily, not for slow cooking breads. Everything that has come out of them so far is either overcooked and dry or still slightly doughy in the middle. He can't seem to get them to produce a decent loaf no matter how hard he tries. They are nothing like the bakery ovens he is used to.

He gives her only a half shrug in reply, and the corner of her mouth twitches up in a near smile that sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn't like that look.

"Then again, maybe your bread was always shitty. Maybe everything you do is mediocre at best, like those kisses in the cave and those kisses on the Victory Tour, and Snow just messed with my head to make me think you were better than you are." She says the words, and they drip with undisguised malice.

The comment hits him square in the chest. Like a punch to the sternum. Just like she intended, no doubt from the way her gray eyes are glittering with hungry anticipation. They way she wants to hurt him and watch his reaction is so personal that it's vindictive. He never knows quite what to say to her when she does it. On one hand, it's better than when she's ignoring him completely. Like the way she treats Gale. As if he barely exists, and isn't even important enough to warant her disdain. He is like a nonenitity to her, a mild annoyance she occasionally frowns at when she can be bothered to acknowledge he even exists. Peeta can't imagine being that inconsequential to her after everything they've been through together. On the other hand, when she speaks to him, now it's excruciating. She's a sharp pointed weapon, as deadly accurate with her aim as she ever was, only now she uses her words instead of her arrows. Every time she opens her mouth, he's left feeling like a wounded fawn, shot through and left bleeding on the forest floor, heart pumping and blood racing in fear and desperation as she stands over him in violent triumph. He tries not to react to her words. Tries not to show how deeply she cuts him. Getting defensive only spurs her on he's learned. Because the more he struggles, the more she enjoys it. Like she knows, he'll bleed out faster because of it. He won't be able to keep his terrifying emotions in check. His broken heart will ooze from him and land in a puddle at her feet. Something for her to drag her boot through in disgust before she closes in for the kill.

A weezy chuckle breaks through the silence that has decended around the dining table, and it's their mentor who speaks while everyone's eyes are glued to the two of them.

"Of course, his bread used to taste better. You were in love with him. Everything in the world is better when you're young, stupid, and in love."

Peeta watches as the weight of their mentor's statement lands. Anger and something like embarrassment flash in her eyes. She scoffs, but two twin spots of color rise high on her cheeks. Evidence that the well placed volley has hit its mark.

Peeta exhales slowly. Fighting the urge to defend her and himself. It's a hard to break habit. And he knows that the urge to protect her will serve no one right now. She would hate him all the more if he even attempted it.

On the other side of his instinct is a strange kind of satisfaction at seeing her thrown off balance for even a moment.

Haymitch's words are a kind of vindication, and her reaction is further evidence, but the feeling that it leaves in his soul is bittersweet. Because it rings soundly true in a way that is simple and irrefutable. She did like his cooking once. Couldn't get enough of it, in fact. And she did love him in some way. She must have. The way she hates him now all but assures it. But Haymitch's use of the past tense when he talks about her feelings for him makes a place inside Peeta's chest ache with a sad longing that he fears will never completely go away.

Because she doesn't love him anymore, and now all that is left of their once profound connection is this. This cruel exercise in bloodletting that he really should walk away from but can't.

"I never loved him." She spits out, and if Johanna were here, she'd say something snarky and sarcastic about how Katniss is still a shit actress.

"That's what Snow wants you to think." Finnick says, looking squarely at Katniss, even voiced and confident in his words.

She sneers at him, opens her mouth, but Haymitch cuts her off.

"You did, and you still do. You're the only one who can't see it. Then again, even before the hijacking, you were pretty slow on the uptake. Still got the intuition of a fucking rock. Guess it's nice to know they didn't change everything about you." Haymitch says, words slipping out quickly, and punctuated by a loud burp that leaves a lingering stench of garlic.

It makes Peeta's nose wrinkle, and in the time it takes for him to shake his head to try and dislodge the smell from his nostrils, she bolts.

All he can do is stare at the empty space she had been sitting in and wonder if they will ever be able to have a normal conversation again.

#thg #everlark #fanfiction #lemonluvwrites #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #Golden Cages #Hijacked!Katniss #thg au #angst #hurt #no comfort #just ouch

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streaminn · 1 year

Note

(Decided to write some fluff after all the angst :) have these dorks using their fruit trees to their advantage! Also, this is set in the streamer Enid au.)

"Do'ya think you could... not?"

"You wanted this," Wednesday says, stepping just slightly harder on Enid's shoulders. "You need to learn to deal with the consequences of your actions, Dear."

"Willaaaaaa..."

"Got it." Wednesday calls, "you can put me down now."

Enid considers just leaning back and letting her fall, but not only is she a human, breakable and frail, she's also carrying all their gathered fruits.

If she made Wednesday spill them, she would be sleeping on the couch for a while.

She lowers herself so Wednesday can hop off, back onto the soild ground.

"Okay," the tiny woman adorable holding the basket on her arm like a purse. The basket hangs low on Enid's arm, the gap from the basket itself to the handle is mostly filled by the bulk of her muscles.

But Wednesday is tiny.

The bottom of the basket almost lines up with the goth's knees.

"That's enough apples, citrus fruits, and grapes for a while." Wednesday sets the basket down carefully, taking care to not drop the grapes.

"Why can't we just pay someone to get them for us? We have the money..." Enid doesn't whine.

Enid doesn't whine.

She didn't.

"Stop whining," Wednesday blunts, "you're the one who wanted to grow and pick our own goods. Something, something... farmcore?"

"Yeah!" Enid cheers. Sticks her arms up. "We're farmcore lesbians!"

"Why are you whining if it's a good thing, then?"

Enid's face and arms drop right as the pass the entrance of the apple tree section. Wednesday insisted that they mark everything properly, but it hardly helps when Enid chased after squirrels and domestic dogs.

"'Cause that was before I knew I'd work in the burning sun with a gothic lesbian on my shoulders!" Enid huffs. Crosses her arms. She doesn't pout. She doesn't.

Their almost at the door to their house now.

It's their home.

Wednesday smiles, if only barely.

"First off, the sun is not burning, it's autumn, and the sun has almost completely set."

Wednesday motions for Enid to open the door, her arms full of baskets.

"Second off," she steps in after the werewolf does a dorky bow, murmuring a low 'ladies first,' "I'm 5'1 and 110 pounds. I regularly see you lift 230, if not more-"

"Yeah, but 230 pounds of weights don't dig boot heels into my shoulders!"

"-and thirdly," she continues, ignoring her wife's complaints "I'm Enidsexual, not a lesbian."

"Awww, Willa!" Enid makes a show of wiping tears away.

Her finger move away from her eyes completely dry.

"You do love me!"

"Of course I love you, you wouldn't be alive if I didn't."

Enid giggles as Wednesday sets the baskets down in the kitchen. The counter has paint marks from when Enid tried and horrifically failed to make a pretty colored glass jar.

Wednesday uses the jar to store spices. It's her favorite.

She pre-heats the oven. 350.

She grabs a knife, a cutting board, sets them down. Enid's gone upstairs to tie her hair back. She washes the apples first, set on peeling them.

Just as she sets the first apple down, a bowl next to her, she hears quick footsteps desend from the stairs.

"Willa, Willa look- look!"

Wednesday huffs, sets the apple and knife, and walks into the living room.

Enid's standing in the middle of the room, grinning.

"What is it?"

Enid points at the mirror.

("So you can see yourself and how fine you are!" Enid giggled, displaying the reflective glass. The top half of the frame is hot pink, the bottom jet black.

Wednesday sometimes uses it to makes sure she's presentable before she leaves.

She uses it mostly to steal looks at Enid before the werewolf notices.

She usually gets caught.)

"It's a mirror."

"I- yeah!" Enid's grin turns teasing, "that is a mirror." She babytalks. "Good job, Wendy!"

"Call me "Wendy" again, and you'll be turned into a square burger patty."

Wednesday crosses her arms but still gets next to Enid, looking in the mirror.

"Look." They stand side by side.

Enid's a good head and then some taller than Wednesday. It used to embarrass her, back in Nevermore. Having to ask the roommate she had an infatuation with to get a book from the too-high shelf was a different level of embarrassment.

"Me," Enid points at herself in the mirror. Her hair is tied back, showing off her scars. Bright eyes.

Wednesday would die for her.

Enid's finger moves to point at Wednesday's reflection.

"And the bad bitch I pulled by being silly and goofy and whimsical."

She supposes Enid is willing to die because of her, saying imbecilic things like that.

"I want a divorce." Wednesday walks back into the kitchen, arms still crossed.

"No, you- no you don't!" Enid jogs after her, she gets into the kitchen right as Wednesday grabs her knife and apple again.

"You could never find someone with this much whimsy! Or a face this cute!"

"Hmm. Are you implying I only married you for your face, Sinclair?"

"Woah," Enid puts her hands put like theres a gun pointed at her. "Bringing out the old last names? Cold-hearted, Addams!"

"You knew you were marrying a cold-blooded woman, Honey. Now, quit messing around and help get the fruit prepped."

"This environment doesn't have enough enrichment for me," Enid pouts, grabbing another cutting board and knife.

"How am I supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?"

"Quiet."

They sit in a comfortable silence. Enid washes and peels the apples, hands them to Wednesday, Wednesday cuts them into slice, then sits them in a pan.

She adds water, sugar, cinnamon. She sets it to medium and stirs.

She stirs random patterns.

A figure-8.

A circle.

An x.

A W.

A plus.

An E.

"Here," there's a hand in her peripheral-vision. "Let me. I like stirring things." Enid smiles softly, takes the wooded spoon from her hands.

"And what do you suggest I do? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"Hmmm," Enid stares into the mixture in the pan. She stirs. "You could sit on the chair and look pretty. Looking at your lovely face would be much better than looking at this."

"Are you saying my creations aren't gorgeous enough to blind you?"

"Look," Enid sets ths spoon aside and grabs a lid. She sets it on the pan, "all I'm saying is- you're not the only who married purely for looks."

"Huh."

They have a staring contest. Enid's never been good at holding her eyes open.

She loses.

"You can start working on the pie dough? I'll go start the fireplace."

Wednesday nods once, grabs what she needs from the closet, and starts on the dough.

This is her life. She lives with her wife, in their house, on their land.

She works on the dough, kneading it while she hears Enid grab logs from the basket they sit in.

Despite their fake bicker and faker upset, she pokes her head past the wall of the kitchen to sneak a peek at Enid.

Her heart catches in her throat when, not only is Enid staring right at her, but Enid is flexing her arms.

"Like what you see?" She teases

"Idiot," she turns back to the dough, hiding her blush. "You are so dumb."

"And yet you love me!" Enid calls back. She can hear Enid place a log into the fireplace. Another. Then another. A fourth. One more log, than she hears Enid grab the lighter.

She hears Enid swear when it doesn't start.

"Willlaaaaaa..."

"Bring it here."

Enid enters the kitchen blushing, and hands Wednesday the lighter with a pathetically pitiful downcast face.

Wednesday lights it on her first try.

"'S'not fair." She hands Enid the lit lighter.

She sets the most of the dough in the pie tin, grabs the filling, and pours most in. She pours the rest in jar, seals it and puts it in the refrigerator.

"I got the fire goin'!"

"Good." Wednesday sets the rest of the dough over the top, cuts line into it for ventilation, than sets it carefully into the hot oven. "Mind getting hot water for tea and coffee ready?"

"Sure!" Enid prances into the kitchen, grabs a kettle and fills it with water.

She sets it on the stove and starts it.

Wednesday washes her hands and nails free of bits of dough and flour and apple and orange and lemon peels.

She's cooking. In their home.

She turns and sees her wife's back to her. She loves this woman.

"Hey, can we watch that new K-drama episode? Yoko got to watch it earlier and if she spoils it I'll-" Enid turns her entire body to face Wednesday and when she does, Wednesday bruies her face in Enid's chest. Hugs her.

"Oh!"

Enid stays stiff for a moment, schocked, and carefully, slowly wraps her arms around the smaller.

"I love the affection," Enid starts, "but you don't usually start the lovin'. Somethin' wrong?"

"I love you. It just... smacked me. How much love I hold in my heart for you."

Enid smiles softly and warmly, Wednesday wonders if she somehow stole the essence of the fire burning in their home and stuck it in her face.

Enid kisses the top of her head.

"Love you too, babycakes."

They sit for a moment. Holding each other.

"The water's ready."

"Good." Wednesday pulls from the hug and turns the stone off. "Get our mugs?"

"'Course, Wednesday."

Enid grabs their mugs from the high shelf, she places them down gingerly.

"I'll be right back."

"Alright."

Wednesday leaves the kitchen and climbs the stairs, entering their shared bedroom.

She goes to the bottom shelf of her dresser (they needed separate ones, she loves Enid but if she has to see a bright yellow dress that says house on it next to her black dress-shirts she'll kill someone.) and grabs the fabrics she came for. She sticks them in her hoodie pockets.

When she gets back down stairs, Enid's all wrapped in a big blanket, her mug in her hands, Wednesday's on the ground next to her. It's big enough to cover their couch 3 timss over.

They use it strictly for cuddles.

Enid's stupid mug that Wednesday got her that she swears is the only one she'll use till she's dead has a chip in the handle. She dropped it and it broke and Ajax, bless him, offered to fix it.

There never found the missing piece.

Wednesday got her mug from Enid. A soild black mug that fits just right in her hands. It has a color changing sun on both sides. It's heat activated.

There's a black coffee in her mug, and Enid's has her apple-citrus tea.

"I'm going to check on the pie."

"Okay."

It's done when Wednesday opens the door. She pulls it out, and sets it to cool.

"It's done, Darling."

"Yay!"

Wednesday walks into the living room, and sits on the floor, grabs her mug, and cocoons herself. She presses into her human-heater.

She's warm.

"Why'd you go upstairs a minute ago?"

"Oh." She swallows. "These."

She reaches into her hoodie pockets and pulls out the clothing.

Enid gasps and puts her hands over her mouth.

"Our snoods!" She grabs hers carefully and puts it on swiftly. "I thought we lost these."

"I hid them. I meant to throw them away but they mean a lot to you and-"

"So they mean just as much to you?" Enid grins at her.

Clever little shit.

"... Yes. I wanted to throw them but i thought about how that would make you feel. I couldn't show you that I-" she fakes a shudder "-love you. If someone saw me wearing this I'd think I mellowed out."

"You have mellowed out." Enid takes her hands tenderly. "For me."

Wednesday blushes and stares intensely at her tea.

"I have a reputation."

Enid grins. Sharp toothed.

"I think the pies cooled."

"Get it yourself, traitor."

"Fine, fine. Guess you'll just be cold and alone in these blankets then."

"Guess I will."

Enid gets two plates down from the cupboard. A knife from the drawer. She pushes it closed with a hip press. She cuts two slices, one for herself and one for Wednesday.

Wednesday's piece totally isn't ever so slightly smaller. Nuh-uh.

She returns to the living room carrying their food.

"Ta-da!"

It's only once they're both situated on the floor, warmed from each other and the fireplace and the blanket does Wednesday speak.

"Enid?

"Yeah?"

"Where are the forks."

Enid looks at her plate. Then at Wednesday's.

"Fuck."

"I'll get them."

"Noooooo," Enid wraps her arm around her love, "I'm cozy!"

"I'm not dealing with sticky fingers," the shorter speaks. "A few seconds without me or no pie?"

"..."

"Be quick."

She pats her wife's shoulder mockingly. "That's what I thought."

It's only once the moon just barely rises do they call it a night.

The pie has been eaten, they enjoyed their drinks, they watched Enid's K-drama so Yoko couldn't spoil it.

They're in bed.

Wednesday let her hair down. Enid plays with it, braiding and unbraiding it endlessly.

"Enid?"

"Yes my sweet, darling Willa?"

"I... I love you. I love you and I fear sometimes I don't say it enough."

Enid grabs her by the shoulder and flips her over. It's fast and makes her neck creak uncomfortably.

"You say it plenty. You could say it once a month and it'd be enough. You sh- you love through actions more than words." Enid laughs softly. "Ironic for such a writer."

"I like saying it more than once a month."

"I like hearing it more than once a month."

A kiss.

"And love you just as much, my Raven."

"Goodnight, Enid."

"Goodnight, Willa."

THE THINGS WENCLAIR DOES TO ME MAN, OMLLLL. ITS SO GOOD WRITER ANON, TY AGAINNNN

im currently in a dnd session so im kinda too busy to write BUT, have this lil snippet

"ya'know what i realized, willa?" Enid murmurs to the dark.

Wednesday doesn't shift, but she keeps talking anyway.

"I think i'm the villager and you're the farmer in stardew valley."

Finally, that got a reaction.

"what?" Enid gives herself a mental pat to the back. Win to her for being able to make her one and lovely Wednesday sound shocked. Heh, adorable.

"it makes sense!" she continues. "you come into the farm, you give me gifts and we're married. Sounds like a regular run, no?"

Wednesday shifts, turning to Enid with a confused and lightly said What.

"what are you talking about?" she wonders and Enid gives a light kiss to her wife's forehead before snuggling under the sheets and closing her eyes.

"Enid?" wednesday asks.

"enid??"

#streamer enid au #wenclair #writing #writer anon #ANOTHER MASTERPIECE

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beansidhebumbling · 3 months

Text

An Examination of Cruelty and Other Such Failings

Nezriel Exes

Her dress was still crumpled where it had been thrown haphazardly the night before, the red silk a symbol of a passion that had burned in the wee hours of the morning with little regard for any sanctity her Mama upheld in Nesta once.

Before.

Before him. Before touches too hot, eyes too knowing, teeth too sharp; Before Nesta started to worship a different god, a crueller one, maybe. All gods were cruel but Azriel... he was a lesson in the what happened when one cared more about the sum than the parts; the breathing, human parts.

Her own breathing felt painful now, the beginning of a stress headache burning at her eyes and pulling tight on her skull. Az. No. Azriel. Not Az anymore, not to her, breathed deeply, steadily, like an innocent. Nesta snorted to herself, a liar even in his sleep.

How very him.

***

The light seeped in through gauzy, white curtains, Mor’s hand no doubt, and Nesta was stricken by how his face, beautiful in the age it was beginning to show, in crepey lines and hollowness, was softened by the dappled, yellow light. Maybe not all age she noted, on a closer look, comforted that her examination would remain a solitary pursuit by the metronomic movement of his chest. The purple shadows pressed into his eyelids, his naturally chiselled face looked just the wrong side of gaunt..

this was not quite the face she loved.

***

She was under no illusion that she had changed since they parted. An argument, a fracturing, a break-up. Words too small for a hurt so big. So explosive, and bitter, and brutal. Her frame softened and wider by the Gilmore Girls diet she’d been following, by the stress that’d been mounting. It was hard to mind herself the way he had.

Hard when three square meals had never been on a list short enough to receive attention, let alone fruit collected from markets in hemp net bags, prime rib-eye wrapped in grease paper, endless variations of nut butters organised on his ridiculous, Italian marble condiment station. Meals he plied her with, spoiled her with, until she allowed herself to grow comfortable with Az Azriel wanting to mind her in ways she could not, did not herself.

Stupid, stupid Nesta.

She should have known better. Comfort was yet another luxury she couldn't afford.

She never felt comfortable anymore.

***

He had not looked different in the dim hazy light of the bar. He had looked as well-maintained, manicured, and handsome as was expected when you had an extensive home gym, Peloton a given, and La Mer hand cream on tap. While his eyes burned from across the bar, the patrons gathered to celebrate Feyre and Cassian’s engagement utterly failed in their roles as buffers, he had looked as he always did.

Intense, consuming, heart-breakingly beautiful.

Even as some horrid part of herself noted with disdain that her thighs chafed against each other, rubbing in softness, in a way they hadn’t in the time before. That the women he’d surely slept with after she walked, probably blonde, probably charming, probably utterly lovely, would never dare to allow such a thing.

His hunger for her had thickened the air around her, had made her think of the unread texts sitting too heavy and tempting, weighing down her inbox, that had led to her blocking his number. Of the new Instagram account he had made. The man who was invisible to social media for so long, who had waxed lyrical to her time and time again of the black hole of energy it was made of. The man who huffed a laugh into her drying hair as she had pushed back,

‘Yeah, yeah, old man. Now let me scroll and fall into this hole in peace’.

The man who was now first to like any photo she was tagged in on Elaine’s, Eris's, even Rhysand’s account.

His request to follow her remained unanswered.

Even gods could change apparently.

Even gods could lose.

***

Her eyes caught the time on his digital clock, bringing her back to herself again. The red numbers flashed a warning,

Move...

Move.

Move!

Avoid confrontation.

Azriel had always risen before seven, one of the things bald men with podcasts attributed his success to. She couldn’t afford to stay any longer in reverie, to let him coax her back. Especially when no small part of her craved it.

She turned away from him and his pretty, peaceful face, to wriggle her way out from the tanned arm laying on her hip, gripping at her, even through the thick coverlet. While doing the overly familiar dance of collecting strewn underwear, wriggling her way into the tight red slip, she looked at him and her chest tightened just a bit more. Because there he lay, half of a once-great love, vulnerable and searching, seeking her across the expanse of the mattress.

This was why she couldn’t even steal his shirt, an infinitely more comfortable walk of shame look. She couldn’t because she knew he’d take any reason to talk to her, to knock on her door. She couldn’t hand him a legitimate invitation in the form of a crisp Brioni shirt.

She wasted no time brushing her teeth, with her toothbrush found in the sleek, mirrored cabinet. Her pink toothbrush still kept like some sad, weird shrine to their intimacy. She knew she'll dwell on that later.

She made her way to the door of his room, steps light and well-versed in their terrain, leather jacket thrown over her shoulders, purse, and thrifted, white, slingbacks in hand when the sound of his breathing changed.

Fuck.

***

She stilled on instinct, heart dancing, as he pushed himself upright in a way that was so fast it was almost comical if his dark eyes didn’t arrest on her, narrowing as he caught her red-handed in her escape.

Heart beating too fast, mind moving too slow she went to speak a few times before,

‘Sorry, didn't want to wake you. Keep our mistakes private, right?'

She was aiming for light but the awkward laugh at the end was undercut by how her voice cracked mid-sentence.

Was that hurt that flashed on his face before it was cold and shuttered once more?

He was out of the bed, brazen in his nakedness and upon her before she’d finished, his big hands, cupping her face, and a voice so rich, still gravelly from sleep, retorted,

‘Oh Nesta, not a fucking chance sweetheart. If you think you’re leaving this room after last night, after a mistake,’

the last two words sharpened and thrown back at her like arrows,

'you are being as delusional as I was five months ago. I was wrong. I was wrong to let you go. And believe me I've atoned for my sins, but I will not stand for you calling this a mistake. I won't watch you sneak away from a room we should share.'

Those brown eyes were deep pools of sincerity and regret. Gods repented in this strange, new world it seemed.

The next words were spoken so softly, almost to himself,

‘I can't. I can't. If you want to hurt me, at least let me hear your voice as you do so, let me look on your face as you break my heart once more. Stay with me and do as you will. I can tolerate anything but your absence.'

Shaking his head as if to refocus, he smiled, a pitiful, broken, best attempt at one, with eyes that roamed her face, gorging on all they had missed, before saying,

‘Come back Nes.'

'I thought I was a distraction.'

She sniped.

She remembered still.

He winced.

There, she thought, first blood in a new fight. Though God knew they'd spilled plenty here before.

***

The pulse of arousal that pierced her was sharp and strong and she hated that this was the most alive she’d felt in months. That she yearned for this fight, has been since she talked herself into approaching the bar last night, lying to herself that all she was doing was fulfilling a craving for bottom shelf vodka and coke.

She'd been to enough therapy since to know she was on shaky ground. She was envisioning the frenzied fighting and fucking to come, a sickening thrilling deja vu, when he kneeled.

Legs buckled like a broken puppet.

A script change.

Tears streamed from eyes filled with such anguish she felt her own swell in response as Azriel cried,

'Never a distraction. I was stupid, a liar and a fool. I kept telling myself that, telling you, because the truth terrified me. You were, are, and always will be everything to me.'

Tugging at his curly fringe, a nervous habit of his, he continued.

'I thought if I believed that, that you were a distraction, I'd find a way to survive even if you left me. Instead it drove you to walk and I found out none of it mattered. There were times in your presence I thought heaven might exist. Your absence, however, confirmed hell is real and it lives in the empty space you once filled beside me.'

Her skin felt like a live wire. Girls like Nesta Archeron didn't get love confessions from exes, they got bad credit and a therapy bill.

Or they had until now anyways.

'How do I know you've changed? All the time you made me feel full never compensated for what you took when you hid me from your friends, when you called me a...'

The word was too hard to say.

She resorted to examining the crown molding as Azriel waited a beat then answered carefully.

'You can't. I'm asking you to trust me knowing I have no right to. I love you Nesta. This is all too late. I know that. Believe me. I'm going to win you back. I swear it. You leave today and I'll find a way tomorrow or the next day. I had sworn to leave you be but looking at you now, I know you feel it too. I just hope someday you'll see it as a blessing too.'

***

When she leaves she feels his eyes following her to the taxi.

In the coming weeks he sends gifts - antique books, red dahlias, mix tapes of songs he thinks she'll like.

When she gets a text from a new number she does not block it.

When she visits next time, she brings her suitcase with her.

Because she understands.

The only craving she has ever had was for him.

As has been the case since she first started working for him, they were drawn together, they both knew this on some level.

That they were unbreakably bound to each other by gods so cruel.

Maybe crueller than him.

Maybe crueller than her.

Somehow.

#nesta #azriel #nezriel #acotar #angst

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astrojulia · 1 year

Text

More than Seaweeds

Mermaid's Herbal Compendium

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Name: Basil

Scientific name: Ocimum selloi Benth.

Disclaimer: As English is not my native language, there may be some errors in scientific expressions. I am also using local resources.

TECHNICAL USAGE

History:

Due to the shape of its leaves (heart), it was considered a symbol of love in Italy and of mourning in Greece. (Portal São Francisco, 2016)

4,000 years ago, the Hindus, who were percussionists in the culture of basil, exported it to Egypt. (Portal São Francisco, 2016)

In the last century, basil was used by shoemakers to attenuate the smell of leather. (Portal São Francisco, 2016)

The name "basilicum" has its origin in the Greek "basilikós," which means "of the kings or royal," to indicate its nobility. The Greek botanist Theophrastus, in the 3rd century BC, defined basil as an herb of kings. (History of Ingredients, 2016)

Description:

Plant characteristics: Basil is an herbaceous plant grown in gardens and widely known throughout Brazil. It is characterized by the pleasant smell that is released from its leaves. It has a quadrangular stem, and the leaves are opposite, sharp, and abundant. The plant produces small white flowers arranged on an elongated axis, with secondary inflorescences formed on each axis. The corolla has four pieces, and the plant bears fruit with four dark nuclei. It is a meliferous plant. Basil can be propagated by seeds or cuttings taken from the branches. It thrives in fertile soils rich in organic matter, permeable, and with high temperatures. (Treatise on Medicinal Plants, 2014)

Propagation: Basil can be propagated by seeds or cuttings from branches. Basil seeds are sown in 200-cell expanded polystyrene trays containing commercial substrate and kept in protected cultivation. At 30 days after sowing, the seedlings have four definitive leaves and are suitable for transplanting. (PEREIRA; MOREIRA, 2011)

Cultivation: Seedlings can be planted in pots or nurseries throughout the year. For this, the beds must be well prepared, raised to a height of 15 cm. Use 150 g of well-tanned bovine manure per square meter of bed and mix well. Sow the seeds and cover with 0.5 cm of light soil or fine sawdust. The recommended spacing is 30 cm between lines and 30 cm between plants. Irrigate at least once a day, preferably in the early morning or late afternoon. After 60 days of planting in the beds, the first harvest can be made by cutting the plant at 20 cm from the soil. (PEREIRA; MOREIRA, 2011)

How to choose and where to find:

Fresh: Fresh bunches and pots of basil can be found in fairs, markets, and supermarkets. Choose branches with lush leaves that are not stained or wilted.

Dry: Dry basil can be found in supermarkets and specialty stores. Look for products in dark packaging, protected from light, to prevent loss of aroma. Check the expiration date.

How to Store:

Fresh:

Basil spoils quickly, but it can be packed in plastic packaging and dried for up to three days at most.

Chop the leaves and place them in a closed glass container with oil.

Dry: Store in a sealed container, away from light and humidity.

How to dry:

Buy two large bundles of basil, wash them well, and spread them on a clean cloth until dry.

Separate the leaves and make layers of leaves in a glass bowl, alternating with thin layers of coarse salt.

Cover the glass bowl with plastic wrap and leave it at room temperature.

Stir once a day for the first three days.

The dried basil can be used for up to two months. The leaves become dry, and the salt absorbs the aroma of basil. You can use only the leaves or also the coarse salt.

Chemical Composition:

Tannins: Tannins are astringent and hemostatic, and their therapeutic applications are related to these properties. They are mainly used in the tanning and paint industries. They are also used in laboratories to detect proteins and alkaloids and as antidotes in cases of poisoning by alkaloid plants.

Flavonoids: The therapeutic functions of flavonoids are not yet fully understood. The group is known for its anti-inflammatory, anti-allergic, and vasoprotective effects (treatment of thrombosis). Rutin and hesperidin are important flavonoids used in the treatment of capillary fragility.

Saponins: Saponoside glycosides are named for their ability to form abundant foam when agitated with water (from Latin "frog" = soap). They taste bitter and acrid, and drugs containing them are usually sternutatory (cause sneezing) and irritating to the mucous membranes. They are non-nitrogen compounds that dissolve in water, producing foaming solutions by decreasing the surface tension of the liquid. They also have the properties of emulsifying oils and causing hemolysis. The latter is due to the ability of the glycoside to combine with the cholesterol molecules present in the erythrocyte membrane, disrupting the internal-external balance and promoting the rupture of the cell, resulting in the release of hemoglobin.

Essential Oils:

o Thymol: It has carminative, anti-spasmodic, expectorant, and anti-inflammatory properties. It also has significant antiseptic potential. o Methyl-chavicol: It has antimicrobial, anti-inflammatory, local anesthetic, and insecticidal activities. o Linalool: It is used for its woody, floral, and refreshing aroma. o Eugenol: It has anesthetic, bactericidal, antifungal, and flavoring properties, with a hot and spicy note. o Cineol: It has decongestant and anti-inflammatory properties and gives a eucalyptus aroma. o Pyrene

Herbal Actions:

Digestant: An herb that promotes good digestion.

Carminative: Herbs or essential oils that help the intestines release gas by relaxing gut spasms and increasing peristalsis to expel gas.

Sweetener: It has the ability to sweeten.

Aperientes: Aperientes herbs are mild laxatives.

Indications: Basil is beneficial for those who have difficulties in digestion, gas, heartburn, and headaches resulting from heavy or inadequate food. It facilitates the functioning of the intestines and acts as a diuretic. It is good for coughs, vomiting, and bad breath. Along with malva and sage, it helps in mouth infections.

Dosage: There is little information on the safe and effective dosage of basil. Usually, 10 to 20 ml of fresh basil leaf juice is used once a day, or teas can be made by infusing 2 grams of fresh basil or dried herb in boiling water twice a day.

Contraindications: Basil is not suitable for long-term use in children, and it should not be used by pregnant women in the first three months of pregnancy.

MAGICAL USAGE

Gender: Masculine

Planet: Mars

Element: Fire

Deities: Ares, Eros, Zeus, Apollo, Vishnu, and Krishna

Tarot Cards: The Empress, Justice, Six of Swords, Ten of Cups

Zodiac: Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius

Sabbath: Yule, Imbolc

Magical Uses (under observation of effectiveness): Basil is linked to love, health, exorcism, and clairvoyance in magical practices. Its fresh leaves can be used as a natural scent to attract passion. Hanging some branches around the house can protect the environment and bring permanent joy. In some ancient cultures, basil was placed on the chest of the dead as a symbol of a passport to paradise. Fun fact: There are over 64 types of basil. (GORI, 2021)

Therapeutic and Enchanted Recipes:

PROSPERITY TEA:

INGREDIENTS: 1 teaspoon of basil, 1 teaspoon of thyme.

PREPARATION: Heat the water for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Add the basil and thyme and let it steep for 15 minutes.

CLAIRVOYANCE TEA:

INGREDIENTS: 1 teaspoon of basil, 1 teaspoon of hibiscus.

PREPARATION: Heat the water for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Add the basil and hibiscus and let it steep for 15 minutes. Drink four sips before your divination practices, especially oracles.

MIX OF HERBS FOR LOVE:

INGREDIENTS: 1 cup of basil, 1 cup of rose petals and buds, 1/2 cup of patchouli leaves, 1/2 cup of lavender flowers, 2 tablespoons of dragon's blood.

PREPARATION: Place this herbal mixture in a bowl in your home to attract love.

HAPPY SIPS:

*This is a recipe that makes me feel really happy...

INGREDIENTS: Fresh basil leaves, fresh strawberries.

PREPARATION: Make a flavored water by adding as much basil and strawberry as your heart desires. Let it sit for a while (to taste) and drink it. I used to make this a lot when working at the office, and it made me feel fresh and happy.

Sources:

CUNNINGHAM, Scott. Enciclopédia das Ervas Mágicas do Cunningham. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

PRIETO, Claudiney. Rituais de Magia com o Tarô. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

GORI, Tânia. Herbologia Mágica. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

CABOT, Laurie; CABOT, Penny; PENCZAK, Cristopher. Tradução de Virginia Dalbo. Livro de Feitiços de Laurie Cabot. 3ª ed. São Paulo. Editora Alfabeto, 2021.

LADDY, Brianna. Apostila Magia das Ervas. 2019. Her Instagram

LADDY, Brianna. 25 Feitiços usando a Magia das Ervas. 2021. Her Instagram

MINHAVIDA. Manjericão alivia problemas intestinais e tem ação anti-inflamatória. Disponível em: https://www.minhavida.com.br/materias/materia-11744#:~:text=Existe%20pouca%20informa%C3%A7%C3%A3o%20sobre%20a,fervente%20duas%20vezes%20ao%20dia. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

SOCIEDADE BRASILEIRA DE FARMACOGNOSIA. Taninos. Disponível em: http://www.sbfgnosia.org.br/Ensino/taninos.html. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

PARODI, Lorenzo. MANJERICÃO. Disponível em: http://www.ingredientes.blog.br/. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

PORTAL SÃO FRANCISCO. Manjericão. Disponível em: https://www.portalsaofrancisco.com.br/alimentos/manjericao#:~:text=Devido%20%C3%A0%20forma%20de%20suas%20folhas%2C%20(cora%C3%A7%C3%A3o)%2C%20era,atenuar%20o%20cheiro%20do%20couro. Acesso em: 11 abr. 2021.

GRANDI, Telma Sueli Mesquita. Tratado das plantas medicinais [recurso eletrônico]: mineiras, nativas e cultivadas. 1. ed. – Dados eletrônicos. Belo Horizonte: Adaequatio Estúdio, 2014. (Download the book HERE)

HOFFMANN, David. Tradução Euclides Luiz Calloni. O guia completo das plantas medicinais: ervas de A a Z para tratar doenças; restabelecer a saúde e o bem-estar. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Cultrix, 2017.

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#astrojulia #astrology #witchblr #astroblr #all about astrology #astro community #astro observations #astrology notes #witch community #herbology #all about witchcraft #herbs #basil #spells

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