#patron merchant

[dailyadventureprompts]

Scragglmop the Destroyer

Once feared throughout the land, a great and terrible dragon grew tired of being endlessly hunted for his hoard and faked his death with the aid of a glory-hungry gnomish bard. Living on for centuries in the guise of a street cat, the dragon is now a hair's breadth from resuming his rampaging ways after the bard's descendants have lost the fortune he gave over to them for safe keeping.

Adventure Hooks:

A series of unexplained fires has wracked the city in recent weeks, which has both the guard and the populace on edge. Rumours swirl blaming arsonists, saboteurs from a rival kingdom, even an illegal duelling society of mages, but none have yet put it together that all of the workshops and businesses were all patronized in one way or another by the famed Candlebright noble family.

Coincidentally, Hignatta Candlebright, young head of that same noble house has sent an invitation to the party to join her at a famed teahouse to discuss a delicate matter involving the retrieval of stolen property. Hignatta has all but taken over the teahouse and its guestrooms since her own family home burned down near the start of the panic, and the party might begin to draw a connection when half way through their meeting the teahouse begins to fill with smoke, panicking patrons, and a booming, sourceless voice that demands "WHERE IS MY GOLD, CANDLEBRIGHT?!"

If you really want to mess with the party, consider introducing them to the fluffy street cat completely independently of the arson plot, making a nuisance of himself in the market while they're trying to shop, or catching mice in their store-room should they have acquired a residence in town. Have them befriend the cat as they might any bad-tempered stray, only to realize after the adventure is half way through that the mice he catches are always somewhat charred. Also imagine the looks on their faces the moment the party's home is broken into by an enemy and their housecat incinnerates a wave of intruders for disturbing his nap.

Background: Everyone knows the story about how the legendary hero Gailen Candlebright saved the realm from the tyrannical dragon Slaggrath, a beast known to devour whole armies and raze kingdoms in search of treasure. It's the ubiquitous tale against which all adventurers are measured against, made all the more ubiquitous thanks to the fact that the deed is memorialized in drinking ballads, children rhymes, and even a few folk operas. Gailen was a troubadour of not insignificant skill before he became a legend, and he had little trouble using that skill and hardwon fame to ensure his deeds would never be forgotten.

As with many tales told by the bards, Gailen left out quite a bit of the truth when concocting his tale: It was a late night in a roadside tavern and the young Candlebright was approached by a sourfaced man with a tangled beard and clothes that might have once been quite fine. Gailen had sung for his supper and then some, his hat was overflowing with tips from a long night's work and a greatful crowd, and the old man wanted to know how it was exactly that the Gnome hadn't yet been robbed; The roads were full of all sorts of rough types who thought that their strength entitled them to others' wealth, bandits yes but worse yet kingsmen, who took what they wanted sure that that they were above any kind punishment.

Seeing that the old man had fallen on rough times, likely having been robbed himself, Gailen spoke from the heart: He'd been robbed a few times yes, but he got by looking like someone that no one would bother to steal from, dressing in his fine clothes only on days he'd perform, and keeping most of his riches in the safe keeping of others, such as the caravan masters he frequently traveled along with.

The old man considered Gailen's words and the two sat up drinking through the night debating the merits of the Troubador's duplicity. Was it not better, asked the old man, to defend what was yours with strength and reputation, That everyone might learn from the failure of those that had trifled with you before?

Gailen looked at the many scars the old man bore and countered that fools never learned their lesson, they just thought themselves better than the last fool who risked it and they'd keep risking it till luck won out or they went to join all the fools that had come before.

It was dawn when the two parted ways, Gailen tottering off to bed thinking he'd given council to a reformed bandit chief, the old man slipping out of the inn and taking to wing thinking he'd concocted a brilliant scheme with the help of his newest, and perhaps first, friend.

i was a week (and one pants-shitting revelation over the old man's true draconic nature) later that the legend of Slaggrath came to an end: Gailen walking into that very same tavern bloodied, burnt, and with the broken off horn of the great wyrm held above his head as a trophy. The news spread like wildfire, the name Candlebright ascended to the shortlist of the realm's great champions, and not a soul questioned when the newly knighted Gailen comissioned the construction of an elaborate series of vaults beneith the castle he'd just been awarded. The bard had everything he wanted, and in return he and his family would hold the dragon's horde in trust, not touching a single copper and adding a little to it each year out of respect for the wyrm's generosity.

Future Adventures:

Even before he charmed his way into unexpected riches, Gailen was an ardent follower of Garl Glittergold, god of ambition, wit, and wariness. Genresavvy bard that he was, he understood that this fabulous windfall wasn't just some gift from his god, it was a test, and that to keep his good fortune going he'd best abide by the exact deal he'd struck in that tavern. Gailen kept Slaggrath's treasure under lock and key all his life and made sure his children did the same despite never telling them where he got it, in accordance with his pact with the dragon . Feeling that the Candlebright family has sat on its laurels for far too long (especially since practical and buisness minded Hignatta has been increasingly questioning why her late grandfather insisted on keeping a giant pile of money in their basement and never spending it), the god has seen fit to shake things up, ensuring that some long lost blueprints for the vault have fallen into the hands of a group of thieves, who broke in and cleared the vault though the very same secret passages Slaggrath used to pop in every decade or so and make sure the count was up to date. The dragon is pissed, convinced Hignatta has reneged on her family's deal.. and all the while the thieves get closer and closer to escaping.

Depending on how the party handles it this situation could break bad in any number of ways: The dragon could give up on being Scragglmop and go on a rampage forcing the party to put him down, they could intercede on Hignatta's behalf and ensure the treasure is returned possibly earning themselves a cushy position as retainers of house Candlebright, perhaps most dangerously they could earn the attention of Garl Glittergold himself and end up being singled out for their own unstable blessing.

In addition to being motivated by the prerequisite desire to get rich, the thieves were hired by an ambitious mage who has long desired to get his hands on Gailen's Horn, the draconic trophy the bard thereafter used as the sigil for his house and hollowed out into a heavy instrument through which he channelled his most showy magic. The mage has designs on the horn as the centrepiece of a ritual drawing on the object's history of power and triumph. Given that the horn is in fact the centrepiece of a giant con it's going to bring some very unaccounted for variables into the mage's ritual which is liable to set off its own chain of problems down the line.

Art

#adventure #mid level #dragon #town #city #dungeon #thief #garl glittergold #disaster #bard #gnome #I thought this was going to be a short one T_T curse you writers brain #monster hunt #patron merchant #patron noble

[midnightmoodlet-art]

So I tried DnD for the first time, so meet my baby human warlock Talia 💖💖💖

I've been rotting for the past three days over her send help

#ayy baby's first oc posting #dnd #dnd art #artists on tumblr #illustration #mio #oc shenanigans #I HAVE!!! SO MUCH LORE!!! #BUT!! SO SHY!! #but what I can say is that her patron is the a sea witch of storms #so water + lightning magic!!! #also talia and her patron are lesbeans they are legally married #because i thought it would be funny #favourite couple date idea is purposefully make merchant ships sink

[jupiterjunebug]

Fascinated by the throughline ive seen in like 20 million posts abt ren faires lately that pirates r one of the main things that makes them inaccurate when uh.

Guys there were. There were pirates in the 1570s? (I mean, privateers, but one queen's privateer is another king's pirate)

They were...kind of a decent part of England's strategy vis a vis the Spanish, actually

If you say it with love then youre fine and if thats the case good news pirates have existed and been subtextually gay since the bces, but like.

Some of the posts have this aura of derision like "how dare they say their faire is historical when theres PIRATES" and like. Of all the things to diss track, us taking artistic liberties to let one of our guys wear a tricorn (which existed but wasnt fashionable) bc its What The People Want in an otherwise historically dress coded group representing a population that did in fact exist is. Weird flex.

#idk not to buzzkill but like some of the faires i work at as a pirate do dress code ppl hard #in fact we tell our new members to make their base outfit 1570s #bc theres not rly any pirate faires around atm that wont let u get away with just throwing a pirate jacket or some different ahoes on #or even not changing anything #but the ppl that r part of actual guilds not patrons or merchants like #we have to do our best or they stop paying us

[emcads]

this is a half baked thought but it compels me how the potc rpc (me included) latches onto port royal as a place for worldbuilding / domestic storytelling / etc because it exudes permanence and structure as opposed to places like tortuga and shipwreck cove which are transient by nature, and full of residents in transit, and ghosts, and stories.  ships, not homes.

#theres certainly an element of ''what does civilization / family / community look like in colonial society?'' that i am not immune to but i #at least attempt to address in my writing #but i also think theres something interesting in writing in a place that's post earthquake - post an image of looking like tortuga #and is building an idea of what it sees itself as ( not unlike the later seasons of BS and the new nassau ) #and casting off the idea of the old privateers and the old england that was more than happy to buddy up with the privateers #to .. finding places in the New World Or Perish so to speak #✘; I HAVE SEVENTY TWO EXAMS AND I HAVE NOT STUDIED FOR ONE ( ooc ) #what we dont really get a sense of in the movies (which for obv reasons cast PR as the naval & civilized foil to tortuga) #is that countless numbers of the other residents would have to adapt their ways of life as maritime communities once england decides piracy #is against her better interests #the merchants who counted on patrons with stolen spanish gold - the carpenters and suppliers who are now fitting naval ships instead of #pirate vessels. the sex workers who – rather than depending on gold windfalls from pirates – are dependent on the unreliable pay given to #their naval clientele #there's a whole new crop of work that pops up post piracy act (namely the local justice system for hanging pirates) but it interests me to #think about how that sharpening divide between legal and illegal naval violence catches civilians in the crossfire #rather than ONLY the sailors / pirates / privateers / etc themselves

[rockn-rule]

Ok so, hear me out

What if I link my ✨secret blog✨ that's going to be for fanfics shenanigans and then never talk about it

Don't question my antics but-

Send your fanfic requests and such to this blog @secretagent-lemonshork instead of this one

#yes this is how im doing this #dont patronize me #i am but a simple merchant #with a need for organization #fanfic blog #hehe i like wrimtin

[nepalcamel]

William of Sandholt

William of Sandholt was a prominent merchant who lived in the village of Sandholt in the 16th century. He was born into a family of wealthy traders, and he quickly rose to prominence in the world of commerce due to his exceptional business acumen and tireless work ethic.

William was a shrewd negotiator and a savvy businessman, and he soon became one of the most successful traders in the region. He dealt in a variety of goods, including wool, leather, and spices, and he was known for his fair prices and his commitment to quality.

Despite his wealth and success, William was also known for his generosity and his philanthropic spirit. He was a regular patron of the arts and a strong supporter of local charities and community organizations, and he was widely respected and admired for his kind and giving nature.

In addition to his business ventures, William was also an active member of the local government, serving on the village council and helping to shape the policies and practices of the community. He was known for his wise counsel and his commitment to the common good, and his influence was felt throughout the village and the surrounding region.

William's legacy lives on to this day, and his name is still remembered with great respect and admiration by the people of Sandholt. He was a true leader and a true gentleman, a shining example of what can be achieved through hard work, determination, and a commitment to excellence in all things.

#William of Sandholt #wealthy merchant #16th century #shrewd negotiator #business acumen #fair prices #quality #generosity #philanthropic #patron of the arts #community organizations #local government #wise counsel #leadership #commitment #respect #admiration #legacy #sandholt

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There’s never just one ant

So there's a great Thai restaurant in my neighborhood called Kiin. Yesterday, I searched for their website to order some takeout. Here's the Google result.

That top result (an ad)? It's fake. It goes to https://kiinthaila.com, which is NOT the website for Kiin.

The *third* result is real: https://kiinthaiburbank.com

Fake site:

Real site:

I got duped. I placed an order with the fake site. The fake site then placed the order - in my name! -  with the real site, having marked up the prices by 15%. Kiin clearly knows they're doing this (presumably by the billing data on the credit card the fakesters use to place the order). They called me within minutes to tell me they'd cancelled the fakesters' order.

I could still come pick it up, but I'd have to pay them, and cancel the payment to the fakesters with Amex. Actually, as it turns out, I have to cancel TWO payments, because the fakesters DOUBLE-charged me.

Here's what that charge looks like on my Amex bill. See that phone number? [phone] is the number for Wix, who provides the scammers' website.

How the actual FUCK did these obvious scammers get an Amex merchant account in the name of "KIINTHAILA" by after supplying the phone number for a website hosting company? What is Amex's KYC procedure? Do they even call the phone number?

And why the actual FUCK is Google Ads accepting these scam artists' ads for a business that they already have a knowledge box for?! Google KNOWS what the real KIIN restaurant is, and yet they are accepting payment to put a fake KIIN listing two slots ABOVE the real one.

To be fair to these scammer asshole ripoff creeps who are trying to steal from my local mom-and-pop, single location Thai eatery, they're just following in the shoes of Doordash and Uber Eats, who did the same thing to hundreds (thousands?) of restaurants during lockdown.

Doug Rushkoff says that the ethic of today's "entrepreneur" is to “Go Meta” - don't provide a product or a service, simply find a way to be a predatory squatter on a chokepoint between people who do useful things and people who use those things.

These parasites have turned themselves into landlords of someone else's home, collecting rent on a property they don't own and have no connection to.

There's NEVER just one ant. I guaran-fucking-tee you that these same creeps have 1,000 other fake Wix websites with 1,000 fake Amex merchant accounts for 1,000 REAL businesses, and that Google has sold them ads for every one of them. Amex and Google and Wix should be able to spot these creeps FROM ORBIT. Holy shit do we live in the worst of all possible timelines. We have these monopolist megacorps that spy on and control everything we do, wielding the most arbitrary and high-handed authority.

And yet they do NOT ONE FUCKING THING to prevent these petty scammers from using their infra as force-multipliers to let them steal from every hungry person patronizing every local restaurant.

I mean, what's the point of letting these robber-barons run the entire show if they're not even COMPETENT?

ETA: Dinner was delicious

#thai food #burbank #google ads #kyc #amex #wix #creeps #ripoffs #go meta

[youryanderedaddy]

Dark Is The Night

Summary: A late night encounter with a patroling soldier changes the trajectory of his life - and, unfortunately, yours too.

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, threats, thoughts of non - con, mention of war, patronizing behavior, slight misogyny, hinted kidnapping

All he could think about was you.

It was a damp linden night, one of the very few old fashioned ones - as if time itself had stopped. The old colonel was laughing in short sharp breathes, skin spotting in red along with his sweaty neck, tearing into a letter he had received this very morning. The young soldiers were all over the tavern - some crying, some cheering over a beer and calling each glass their last, losing themselves in the rich foam that covered their fresh military mustaches. Christoph was alone, though.

He had no wife to write back to - no home to call his own, no friends or family to celebrate his final battle with. He also wasn't a rookie - so he couldn't drink himself blind in the pursuit of ideals, of empty promises of greatness to come. Truth was, his troops had won their fair share of battles, and today they had signed a treaty that would certainly benefit the district - the one he had lost his youth fighting for. He knew the capital would attempt at invasion, those greedy fucks wanted to bite more than they could chew - but that was no longer his problem. Today his contract ended. Today he was a free man.

And yet.

And yet all he could think about was you.

It was funny - he had spent more nights than he could remember wishing he could burn this half - dead village to the ground, all together with the maidens and the elderly still stick fending for themselves after the war. He presumed he'd be doing everyone a favor - he'd rid himself of the memories that haunted his dreams, and they wouldn't have to suffer any longer, not when all that winter would bring once again was even more hunger and decay.

After all, the victory changed nothing. The starving populace wouldn't starve anymore - it would simply die, having lost fathers, sons, daughters, farmers, merchants, healers. Nothing less than the very foundation of society. So maybe it would be far less cruel, far more humane, to burn everything and let them die with dignity.

But then you too would burn with the miserable souls of the damned. The man pictured it all - your beautiful skin still damp from the rain blistering in red and orange, and eventually black, those gems of yours trembling beneath your long eyelashes as the smoke swallowed your last breath.

The thought made Christoph irrationally angry - jealous even. Not only because he just imagined you dying, but because it was someone, something else stealing your final moment from him. Something else bruising your skin and forcing your lips to swell, something else causing you pain and suffering. No, he couldn't let you die. Not like this.

He couldn't help but recall your first meeting two years ago. Unbeknownst to you he had memorized it, citing each line by heart - envisioning it in his memory over and over each time he needed an escape, an outlet. The soldier wasn't one for softness, never one to dream and hope - but deep down he knew that this simple encounter had swayed the bullets. It had made him grip his rifle just a bit closer, made the biting wind just a bit warmer. He was a killing machine undeserving of humanity - yet you had saved him without even realizing it.

It was a cold winter night - quite opposite to this one, in the middle of Hell. The county your village was part of had been surrounded for a few weeks. Food was running low, and even clean water was scarce. All the men had been displaced a long time ago, sent off to fight in the eastern territories. Christoph was stuck at the Iron hills, a region so poor they didn't even bother to send additional armies to. If it lost, it lost. It held no special resources, no cultural or economic significance, no sea or forest roads to profit off of. All in all, no one wanted to serve here. No one but him.

Not that Christoph was too fond of the hills - it was more so that he didn't care where he was going to die. Whether it was on the eastern front, the western or even on the other side of the ocean, it didn't matter. And he had made peace with that fact - but before death took a toll on him, he was going to earn enough buck to buy good cigarettes for once in his miserable life. With real tobacco, none of that cheap imported trash they sold in his hometown.

And that's exactly how fate let him meet you. He was patrolling the border bridge late into the night - a thick cigar in hand (a parting gift from the general Murphy), humming to an old melody he couldn't quite remember the name of. He was alone that night - his friend had been injured so he needed to rest. The man was trying to stay alert, although the fatigue had long settled in between his tired bones and it refused to let go. The lack of sleep and the sheer paranoia was making him jumpy, ready to point his gun at the slightest of sound. He almost shot you that night.

"Colonel." You had whispered through gritted teeth, slowly raising your hands up as you approached him with a hesitant step. He blinked twice, unsure if he was still awake. Surely there was no way a young woman was out alone so late during wartime. "Colonel!" You repeated, putting a bit more force into your otherwise soft, calm voice. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and he finally raised his head to look at you, his sharp, intense gaze measuring you up from top to bottom. Just like a predator seizing his pray, like a soldier trained to keep his eyes on the target, he knew no other way to introduce himself other than with a silent, unspoken threat.

"A bit young to be calling me that, no?" The man snapped back, voice coming out more raspy than he intended - but it was hardly his fault. He rarely had visitors nowadays - no one wanted to expose themselves to the front lines, to risk becoming smoked meat, which meant he had little opportunity for chatter. So his voice had become rough - almost unnecessary cruel.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, blurry eyes focused on the weapon resting oh - so snuggly against the soldier's heart as if guarding it. "I'm not familiar with your many titles, sir." You explained with a certain bite. Christoph squinted, growing amused at your little jab, yet the black mask covering his mouth hid it from you. The man knew exactly what you meant. You were not used to so much surveillance on your step - on everyone's step, so many eyes set on you as if you had a massive red target on your back. You were not used to armed forces ghosting around your small homely village with a gun resting at an arm's length just waiting to be loaded.

He wondered if it was your first time running into a soldier since the beginning of the occupation. He wondered if you were scared - if your heart was beating against your chest like it was trying to break through the skin. After all he was indeed intimidating - with heavy combat boots and a black uniform that did little to hide his rough figure, the lineage of lean muscle and battered blistered skin that undoubtedly belonged to a man. A man whose hands were still covered in dirt and blood. He could kill you. He could push you around - get some entertainment out of you. He could shove you down and use you like a cheap village whore - and no one would care because that's just how war is. He was serving his country, he needed an outlet, and you just happened to be there. No one would blame him.

He couldn't bring himself to come closer to you. He didn't trust himself to hold back when faced with something so fragile after months of letting his fists and his teeth do the speaking.

"That's lieutenant to you, miss." He barked in a tone that felt familiar - a tone that used to wake him up every morning at 5 for weeks on end. A tone that he could still hear every time he loaded his rifle and let go of the trigger with shaking fingers.

He couldn't be nice to you. He couldn't be nice to anyone in this bloodshed. And yet he heard himself asking you for your name. It hadn't meant anything - it was a long night and he was bored. Lonely, maybe, he couldn't tell his feelings apart very well. You hesitated for a second too long before you finally gave him a clear answer. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard - not just now, but ever.

"Would you mind explaining why you're here so late, miss?" The man tilted his head, trying to understand your unreadable expression - somehow you looked lost in time, striken by fear and grievance. "I believe the general gave direct orders this morning. No one should be out after ten." He paused to take a long, dramatic puff off his cigar. "It's too dangerous. Especially for a pretty little thing like you to be roaming at night." He knew his boldness was making you uneasy, and that he shouldn't derive such obvious pleasure from your discomfort, but he just couldn't help it. He was lonely. He was sick. And most of all, he was a bastard who had already given up on life. He had nothing to lose.

"Truth be told, if you were mine I wouldn't let you out of sight, miss." He grinned, feeling just a bit disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to scare you. To creep you out so bad you'd never go out alone again. Why he had got so invested so quickly, he also couldn't tell.

"I... I needed a breath of f-fresh air, l-leutenant." You responded quickly, eager to leave this conversation as soon as possible - completely ignoring anything he said. Your initial confidence had evaporated as the wet cold crept into your thin coat. It didn't fit your frame - it was too big on you and it reeked of a man's first proper cologne. The thought of it filled the soldier with unreasonable, hot -red fury, imagining you next to some nameless brat with his hands wrapped around you.

"That's all?" The corners of his lips stretched mockingly as he let his smoke blow into your face - and you had to fight the urge to immediately wave it off.

"Are you, are you implying something, sir?" You fiddled with your fingers nervously, looking anywhere but at Christoph. He found it pathetically adorable. "Just curious." He took another long puff - his breath coming out frozen - white as it hit the icy air. "You don't seem like the brave type to me." His eyes narrowed to two pitch black slits. He must have looked terrifying to you in that moment, and he loved it. "So just what-" He pulled you in by the collar. "Are you doing here, huh?"

You froze in place as if he had pointed his gun to you yet again. You swallowed loudly, trying to come up with an explanation - but nothing came to mind when you were so obviously scared. The soldier could feel your heartbeat - he could hear the blood pumping to your ears as you looked around hopelessly for help that wouldn't come. And just like that the wolf had the rabbit dancing in its own trap.

"Are you just looking for trouble, hmm?" The man reached in to curl his finger around one of your loose locks. He didn't want to make you feel so awfully small - but everything about this situation, from the tremble of your lips to the sheer panic in your eyes was going straight to his cock. "I'm sure that with a face like that you never lacked attention, no?" He tilted his head with predatory malice. "But now all the men bending over backwards for you are off somewhere, dying as we speak. Poor little you - I can imagine just how lonely you are." He pressed his body closer to yours. "The thing is, I am more than willing to play with you in their pl-"

"Please, lieutenant." You couldn't stand to listen to him any longer, a thousand warm pleas already falling off your desperate lips. "Please let me go." Your eyes softened, trying to hide the first sign of hot wet tears. "I need to go home to my siblings. I need to bring them fo-"

"Why should that matter to me, dollface?" It was his turn to interrupt you - voice full of childish glee as he kept up with his petty torment.

"Because - because," You started off, hands shaking into little fists that you knew, realistically, could do the soldiers no damage were you to push against his chest. "Because you're a good man." You mumbled after a while, looking for the right words to say. "And I know that deep down you're kind and brave. That's why you're here now, fighting for all our lives."

You were such a pretty liar, Christoph thought. He could listen to your sugary sweet fairytales all night long, silently praying that they'd become true if he was only able to capture his own little fairy - his own miracle.

"What if I am not the hero, doll?" The man whispered darkly in response, leaning against you until your back hit the tree behind you, trapping you between his stiff body and the pillar. "What if I am here for all the wrong reasons, huh? Just think about it." He lowered his head so it would match your eye level - you were so quiet he wondered if you had forgotten how to breath.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. I have a weapon and a direct permission to shoot at will. I can do whatever the fuck I want." He made sure you could hear every single word clearly. He wouldn't let you faint before he was through with you. "I can fuck you right here in the open - or I can drag you to the barracks and keep you there for as long as I need to. Do you really think anyone would care about some insignificant girl going missin-"

"Please." You repeated, suddenly getting stirn with your pleading, as if you too had nothing to lose. "Let me go - I'd do anything."

His eyes darkened - then lit up with sick, perverse desire. He wanted to echo your words back to you just like a classical villain would - to really drive the point across that he was out for blood. Anything, you say? Anything at all? But he couldn't contain his excitement enough to voice those sadistically banal thoughts. Besides, he could already feel the adrenaline running through his whole body. His heart was beating rhythmically, pumping and alive for the first time in days, weeks, months. He wanted you more than anything. It was that moment he knew he was going to live - he was going to fight and win, and then come back for you as a hero. As your hero, even if in your eyes he would be more of a villain.

A nightmare you'd try to forget - and just when you think you have erased his fingertips off your waist, your face, your neck, he'd come back to steal you away forever.

"Kiss me." Christoph all but snarled, some unfamiliar, needy - greedy ball of emotion settling into his loins as your delicate face twisted into a petrified grimace. You began trembling in his arms, looking around yet again. It was pitch black, no soul in sight. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your movement to no avail. "A-alright. I-I..." You whispered with difficulty as if simply saying the words was causing you a great deal of pain. And maybe it was, but the soldier could care less. He already knew you were made for him - made to serve him, made to make him happy. "I'll d-do it."

The man growled in satisfaction, taking a small step back. You looked at him, puzzled - your confused face was just as cute as your scared one. He couldn't wait to explore all your reactions - the way you'd squirm and writhe underneath him as he fucked into you restlessly, filling you up with his love over and over again until you were crying for mercy. But that had to wait, he had a war to fight. For now he could settle for a little taste of you to keep him warm during the cold nights. And just like that he tapped his lips, guiding you silently. You felt your cheeks heat up once you finally understood what he meant by that. He wasn't going to kiss you. He wanted you to put in the work.

Your eyes filled up with tears, and you felt silly for becoming so upset over a little kiss - but this was your first kiss, and you had to give it to a monster. It was certainly better than the alternative, with the alternative being rape in a filthy military cottage, but it still made you feel dirty all over. Yet, you had no choice. You took a step towards the man - you could feel the suffocating warmth radiating off his body towards yours, and if the situation wasn't so grim, you might have been grateful for another human's heat in the freezing cold. But now all you could feel was dread.

You stood on your tip toes, a shaky hand reaching out to cup the stranger's face. Cristoph smirked, complecent at your obedience. You licked your lips and slowly, hesitantly pressed them against his, just barely touching at all.

He groaned, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He grabbed you and pulled you in roughly, squeezing you like a plush toy. He deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth, finding heaven between your soft, sweet lips and broken whimpers. You were so innocent. So lost. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let go. He wanted to keep kissing you until your lips turned blue, until it hurt to speak.

And then you pushed him off just like that, using your own body as a distraction. He tripped backwards, too shocked and lost in sensation to stop you. He smiled at your final act of defiance. It was, of course, adorable and so painfully you, yet it didn't really matter - not in the long run. You had only suceeded in making him want you more.

But that was two years ago. Now the war was finally over. Now he had enough to start a new life. Now he was a free man.

And he was coming back for you.

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere soldier

[sixteenseveredhands]

Emerald Spectacles from India, c. 1620-1660 CE: the lenses of these spectacles were cut from a single 300-carat emerald, and it was believed that they possessed mystical properties

These eyeglasses are also known by the name "Astaneh-e ferdaws," meaning "Gate of Paradise," based on the perception of the color green as a symbol for spiritual salvation/Paradise. This was a common belief in Mughal-era India, where the spectacles were made.

The lenses were crafted from two thin slices of the same emerald. Together, the lenses have a combined weight of about 27 carats, but given the precision, size, and shape of each lens, experts believe that the original emerald likely weighed in excess of 300 carats (more than sixty grams) before it was cleaved down in order to produce the lenses. The emerald was sourced from a mine in Muzo, Colombia, and it was then transported across the Atlantic by Spanish or Portuguese merchants.

Each lens is encircled by a series of rose-cut diamonds, which run along an ornate frame made of gold and silver. The diamond-studded frame was added in the 1890s, when the original prince-nez design was fitted with more modern frames.

The emerald eyeglasses have long been paired with a second set of spectacles, and they were almost certainly commissioned by the same patron. This second pair is known as Halqeh-e nur, or the "Halo of Light."

The Halo of Light features lenses that were made from slices of diamond. The diamond lenses were cleaved from a single stone, just like the emerald lenses, with the diamond itself being sourced from a mine in Southern India. It's estimated that the original, uncut diamond would have weighed about 200-300 carats, which would make it one of the largest uncut diamonds ever found.

These lenses are so clear and so smoothly cut that it sometimes looks like they're not even there

Both sets of spectacles date back to the mid-1600s, and it's generally believed that they were commissioned by a Mughal emperor or prince. The identity of that person is still a bit of a mystery, but it has been widely speculated that the patron was Shah Jahan -- the Mughal ruler who famously commissioned the Taj Mahal after the death of his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Shah Jahan did rule as the Mughal emperor from about 1628 to 1658.

The emerald and diamond lenses may have been chosen for symbolic/cultural reasons, or they may have been chosen simply because they're pretty and extravagant; their meaning/purpose is unclear. Experts do believe that the eyeglasses were designed to be worn by someone, though.

It was believed that the spectacles had spiritual properties, like the ability to promote healing, ward off evil, impart wisdom, and bring the wearer closer to enlightenment. Those beliefs are often related to Indic and Islamic traditions, some of which ascribe spiritual and/or symbolic traits to emeralds and diamonds. Emeralds can be viewed as an emblem of Paradise, divine salvation, healing, cleansing, and eternal life; diamonds are similarly associated with enlightenment, wisdom, celestial light, and mysticism.

The Gate of Paradise and the Halo of Light were both kept in the collections of a wealthy Indian family until 1980, when they were sold to private collectors, before going on auction once again back in 2021. They were valued at about $2 million to $3.4 million per pair.

Sources & More Info:

Sotheby's: Mughal Spectacles

Architectural Digest of India: At Sotheby's auction, Mughal-era eyeglasses made of diamond and emerald create a stir

Only Natural Diamonds: Auspicious Sight & the Halqeh-e Nur Spectacles

The Royal Society Publishing: Cleaving the Halqeh-Ye Nur Diamonds

Gemological Institution of America: Two Antique Mughal Spectacles with Gemstone Lenses

Manuscript: From Satan's Crown to the Holy Grail: emeralds in myth, magic, and history

CNN: The $3.5 million Spectacles Said to Ward off Evil

BBC: Rare Mughal Era Spectacles to be Auctioned by Sotheby's

#history #archaeology #artifact #mughal #india #17th century #art #emerald #diamond #glasses #indian lore #islam #religion #mysticism #indian history #anthropology #spirituality #fashion

[dr3c0mix]

Hi, I just started reading your works and they are fantastic! I saw on your request page that you do teratophilia, but I don't fully know if you do orc, so I wanted to know before I sent in a proper request. If you don't do orc I'll probably request something with a minotaur instead.

Little Duckling

Yandere!Orc x Gn Reader

cw: nsfw, kidnapping, stalking

⚔️ Valeth was a warrior, a dangerous, bloodthirsty orc. One who had the blood of hundreds in his hands. A scar-ridden man whose company consisted of the vile and ruthless, thieves and murderers.

⚔️ So why the hell were you in here??

⚔️ You looked so small, so weak. A tiny creature possibly from a far land from the look of your wide-eyed, innocent face.

⚔️ He stared at you from across the tavern as you happily scribbled on a notebook with a small glass of some sweet drink you ordered.

⚔️ He could hear the laughs and jeers of the other patrons, some giving you less than decent stares at your body, it made him sick.

⚔️ But why? Why is he suddenly so protective of a tiny, weak, small, soft, cute, adorable, fragile doll of a person like you?

⚔️ ...

⚔️ Shit...

⚔️ He pinches the bridge of his nose and gets up from his seat and walks over to where you're sitting.

⚔️ "You better get out of here before you get hurt Duckling."

⚔️ You look at him startled with the cutest eyes, fuuuuckk

⚔️ You ask why with the voice of an angel; the orc bit the inside of his cheek to stop him from smiling.

⚔️ "You new in Phenonia?" He crossed his arms, glancing at the others in the tavern, all of them looking away from you after meeting his gaze.

⚔️ You tell him you're a traveler in search of adventure. He lets out a laugh, giving you a tusk-filled smile.

⚔️ He offers you a walk back to your inn and you happily agree, skipping and rambling about your travels the whole way. Normally he would tune out someone as talkative as you, words he didn't understand going one ear and out the other, but you, you managed to hook him with your explanations of distant lands and the discoveries you made there. He even asked questions and gave you tips and advice for your future adventures in Phenonia.

⚔️ You reach your inn and you bid the large orc goodnight, shaking his calloused hand and heading inside.

⚔️ He stood there for a minute, looking at the hand that touched yours. He felt his face heat up a bit before he shakes his head, trying to get the image of your bubbly smile out of his head. He heads to his home to get some rest but all he can think about is you in the bed next to him. Its not weird is it? god what's wrong with me????

⚔️ You two ran into each other a few more times, Valeth always using the nickname he gave you; Duckling. He says it's because you remind of a little duckling always waddling and smiling at everyone all the time.

⚔️ He helped you out sometimes whenever someone gave you a hard time. It's like he would magically show up to protect you like a big green guard dog. You would always give him that damn smile and treat him to a meal.

⚔️ When you two weren't together, he would be watching you go about your day in a busy street or from behind a merchant cart or crate. He knew your set schedule like the back of his hand, where you'd go for breakfast, your favorite place to rest after a long day, the spot you would always draw at. He would pay friends of his to keep tabs on you to make sure you're safe.

⚔️ You left a scarf once and he found it with an adorable pin that was for favorite bug made from jewels of your favorite colors. He wanted to give it back to you, but he couldn't bring himself to part with it. he found himself taking in the scent of you from it. He imagined you actually there with him as he stroked his cock while moaning into your scarf.

⚔️ Eventually he had enough of merely watching you and quick hand touches, he wanted to know your touch, he wanted to know your taste, he wanted to know the sound of your moans under him.

⚔️One night after an exhausting day of trying to sketch a bird that kept flying away, you see Valeth waiting by your inn. You smile weakly at him and wave, but he just sighs and walks over to you.

⚔️ You start to get a bit uneasy and ask what's wrong but he reaches in his coat and pulls out a cloth.

⚔️ "Sorry for this Duckling.." He mutters to you before pulling you to him, covering your mouth with the cloth. You black out before you could even scream for help.

⚔️ You wake up in a bed full of warm pelts with someone lying next to you. You gasp, remembering what happened and kicked yourself off the bed.

⚔️ Valeth jolts awake and sees you scrambling to your feet on the floor next to the bed. He gets up and quickly pulls you close as you try to wriggle out of his hold.

⚔️ He tries to calm you down, whispering comforting things to you. You fight the tears threatening to run down your face as you feel his breath on your neck.

⚔️ His hands feel you up and down, rubbing you in order to comfort you, but it only serves as a way to scare you even more.

⚔️ He kisses your neck, licking your sweet spots, his tusks ghosting across your skin like a dull blade.

⚔️ "It's alright Duckling, you're safe, it's going to be okay. But you're gonna stay here with me now alright? I'll keep you safe, I promise."

⚔️ He reaches in the drawer next to you two and pulls out your scarf, he puts it on you, crying your teary face with the soft fabric. You hold the scarf close to you, but you still turn away from him.

⚔️ He sighs and puts his hand at the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his.

⚔️ "You'll understand soon enough Duckie...you'll understand how much I love you.."

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

⚔️ Valeth kept you locked in his home after that, always leaving to keep up appearances that nothing happened. Whenever someone asked where you've gone, he said you just left in search of more adventure as you do.

⚔️ He was as tough and stoic as ever when he went out but as soon as he comes back home to his modest house in the edges of the kingdom and sees you, he becomes a giant cuddle bug.

⚔️ This big battle-scared orc turns to putty when he hugs your small form.

⚔️ He still locks the doors and windows from the outside in fear of you leaving him, but it's ok! You can still write about your travels and such! He brings home things he thinks you'd like. Weird stones, leaves, trinkets, anything.

⚔️ He would do anything for you, and you're reminded every day when he cuddles you close, taking in your sweet smell. Everything. Except being let go of course.

⚔️ Sometimes you refuse to eat in hopes of ticking him off but he just laughs and holds you in his arms like a stubborn baby and spoon-feeds you.

⚔️ No matter how much you kick and scream, he's always stronger than you, always shutting down your tantrums as easy as placing his hand over your mouth.

⚔️ Eventually you learn to live with him and his affections, the pile of junk he brought home is rummaged through and actually paid attention to by you, meals are eaten, albeit with you staring daggers into him, but he couldn't be happier.

⚔️ He never forced you to do anything lewd you didn't want to do, but he would sneak off out of bed to watch you, sometimes touch himself to the thought of the day he finally gets permission to bed you.

⚔️ But now, he's satisfied with you just sleeping with him in his arms, his face buried in your hair.

⚔️ "You're mine little Duckling...only mine..."

Thnkank uouyu anon <3 <3 <3

#yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere x male reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #orc daddy #orc smut #thanks anon! #anon response #anon answered #x male reader #male reader #x female reader #female reader #x gn reader #gn reader #monster lover #monsterfucker #teratophillia #terato

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Through the Vine

Surrounded by some of the most coveted vineyards on the continent, your party sits in the shaded garden and listens to the old alchemist explaining why she needs your help getting drunk enough to see the face of god.

Every adventurer knows the name Ultani, at least those with coin and taste enough to order bottles of wine when they and their friends hit up a tavern after a delve. What an irony then for one of the Ultani family to ask for THEM at her table, and with a business proposition of all things.

Bent with age but bright of eye, Ivilia Ultani needs their help tracking down the location of an abandoned druid sanctum in the far wilderness and retrieving fruit sacred to the god of vintners and healers left over from a disastrous ritual. Her reasons? Apparently after decades perusing the alchemical mysteries Ivilia got her hands on a bottle blessed by the wine-god himself, and spent four days in a state of drunken revelation pencilling out her magnum opus. The bottle and her inspiration dry just before she finished, so rather than waiting years trying to trial and error the last piece or searching for another bottle she's decided to make some of her own.

Along the way the party will contend with family drama, the cutthroat politics of the wine trade, and the long echoing consequences of stealing from merciful gods. For their troubles they'll not only earn the thanks of a talented alchemist, but also potentially a new home should they hold true to their task.

Setup: Though she is the oldest of her of her merchant clan Ivilia is not the head of the Ultani winery. Her younger brother Valtar had the talent for cultivation and business while she veered towards eccentric scholarship, now Valtar's adult grandchildren run the business and the numerous sprawling vineyards associated with it while she lives in learned obscurity on the original family homestead.

While she occasionally helps out whit a new formulation of fertilizer or pest repellent, Ivilia is rather distant from the rest of the Ultani family who view her as a bit of a kook, who all to often uses her inherited share of the enterprise to buy obscure texts or finance futile experiments.

Challenges & Complications:

Actually finding the sanctum is going to be half the problem. Druidic orders are notoriously protective about the location of their secret clubhouses, and this order was scattered to the wind more than a century ago. Ivilia has tracked down the vague location where she thinks the sanctum might be, but unless the party wants to spend days combing the dangerous wilderness they're going to need to track down a more reliable source. Parsing through local rumours and records gives them three leads, an elf who still provides council to the local Count (goodluck getting an appointment), a vaguely helpful ditty that was recounted to a local bard (since dramatized in endless retelling), and an elder of the order who flew back to his home village in the shape of a falcon. Investigating the latter finds that the elder was apparently so scarred by what he'd seen at the sanctum that he transformed himself into a tree and has spent the intervening decades letting his mind and memory lignify.

The Sanctum itself and the landscape that surrounds it has been scarred by an act of divine wrath that still lingers in the form of dangerous fey and choking vines. Roots have undermined the walls and foundations, making chambers all to easy to collapse. In the centre of this ruin lays the undead corpse of Elmgrace , a once famed elven healer who sought the boon of the god Litirenn only to try and use that gift to reign the god towards his own purposes. Resentful at this deception Litirenn unleashed havoc on the sanctum, cursing Elmgrace never to die, never to rot, and never to rejoin the cycle of nature. Forever vinebound to the same altar he intended for the deity, Elmgrace's few last fanatical followers still tend to his broken body, attempting to brew up more potent poisons that will finally "free" their teacher from his torment.

Unfortunately, the fruit the party needs to pluck grows only from the plants impaling Elmgrace's body, which his followers are very protective of. Even after the party races through the wilderness and back to civilization with their prize they'll need to look over their shoulder for toxin obsessed cultists stalking their trail.

Further Adventures:

Milo Ultani has something to prove, the oldest of four siblings and a gaggle of cousins poised to inherit the winery he was raised to value hard work and loyalty to the family above all else. All his life it has irked him that his great aunt was allowed to dwell in their ancestral home, some of the nicest land his family owns, leaching off their enterprise like a withered limb. What finally drives him to act is Ivilia offhandedly mentioning that she intends to sign over her house and land to the party as a reward for helping her drink her way to enlightenment again. Resentment turns to rage in the young man's mind as a plan begins to form; A vine must be pruned in order to be fruitful after all.

When the party return with the godly fruit they're going to find Ivilia gone, her home broken into during the night her bed a mess of red that at first seems to be blood, but is infact wine. Surrounded by experts it doesn't take long for the vino in question to be identified as belonging to Jadash Hill, one of the Ultani's oldest rivals who are known for their unscrupulous business practices. It's at this point that Milo comes forward, reporting that some of their carters had gotten into brawls with those from Jadash Hill at a local tollhouse, sending the bastards packing and ignoring their threats of reprisal as idle boasting. This did indeed happen, but only because Milo is in charge of part of the family's delivery operation and instigated the fight himself.

The clock is ticking, the party has a bushel of miracle fruit that's going to rot and the alchemist they were supposed to deliver it to is nowhere to be seen. They can either find Ivilia quick, figure out a method of preserving the fruit, or read through her notes and attempt to concoct the divine wine themselves.

However badly he thinks of her, Milo would never kill his great aunt, having instead had his loyal carters drag her off to a small cottage on the edge of a property the family was keeping fallow for the year. In his reckoning the old woman won't live much longer, and while the emerging feud with Jadash hill keeps the family busy he can figure out a better place to keep his great aunt locked up. He wasn't delicate in his planning but he moves fast and the influence he has with the workforce as the presumptive heir cannot be overstated.

Art 1 Art 2

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #adventure #dungeon #player home #Alchemy #mid level #low level #Litirenn #field #Forest #druid #patron merchant #dungeon forest #dungeon jungle

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, ...)

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Sherry, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Baker Family, Merchant, Patrick, Luis), VtM concepts (Camarilla, Anarch, Sabbat, Second Inquisition, Toreador, Ventrue, Brujah, Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian, Tremere, Ghouls).

Authors' Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “PI, actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

[pearlywritings]

Your bed is enough

synopsis: after experiencing a not so nice day at work, Diluc decides to stay at your place tonight

prompt: 27

requested by: @bobaboob

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: pure fluff, domestic moment, established relationship (you are engaged)

word count: 1.2k+ words

a/n: check my Token of appreciation writing event!

It feels like hours have passed since the moment Diluc put the key from the tavern in his jacket’s pocket and took your inviting hand to follow you home. Though home in your and his case could mean two places - either the winery, where he offered you to move in with him a couple of months ago, which with the recent engagement feels absolutely right, or your apartment, situated in the city itself.

And tonight it’s the latter.

Diluc rarely complained and even more rarely he complained out loud, but the evening was worse than he could ever remember. Nothing functioned right - both Charles and a couple of waitresses had fallen sick the day before (he’s gonna find and strangle that merchant from Inazuma who’d offered them, as it turned out, expired snacks from his land), the number of patrons was surprisingly and almost overwhelmingly high, some barrels came with broken taps and he’ll have to deal with extra work tomorrow both with the casks’s supplier and the workers who missed the defect… Oh, and then one of the drunkards must’ve been in such a stupefied haze that he mistook the red-haired male with someone and intentionally spilled a bottle of wine all over his already messy uniform, blaming him for seducing his wife and taking her away from him. The Ragnvindr nearly exploded back then, and the man was out of the door before he could realize who’d he just offended.

You got it - the evening was horrendous.

And even now, in a bath, in your oh so familiar bathroom, in the comfort of your - now also shared - living space, with you getting ready for bed on the other side of the door, he can’t shake off that exhaustion that enveloped him like a heavy cocoon. Hopefully he’ll manage to scrub the smell of alcohol off of him at least.

When he emerges into the bedroom with a towel on his head and some loose sleeping pants sitting low on his hips, he finds you standing in front of your bed, already dressed for sleep, and staring at the piece of furniture with utmost concentration. There is a line between your brows, your pretty lips are pursed and arms crossed. In his eyes even this looks ethereal - if that’s one of the views he’s going to witness once you become his wife - getting to see you focused and serious while helping the winery owner with his work affairs, - then he wants to marry you as soon as possible. He really can’t wait to add another ring to that beautifully crafted engagement one on your finger.

Forcing himself out of his blissful dreams and deciding to finally ask what brought you to such a state, Diluc makes his presence known with a polite cough. You immediately whip your head in his direction, and the previous signs of your brooding are gone, replaced with a soft smile and a bright glimmer in those eyes he loves so much.

“Oh, you are out already,” uncrossing your arms, you make a step closer and he does the same, until you two are standing in front of each other and your hands reach to the towel. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

“Somewhat,” he answers honestly, lowering his eyelids, letting you wipe the heavy mass of his hair dry. “Do I still smell of alcohol?”

“Hmm…” You move your face even closer, sniffing air close to his chest. “No, I don’t smell any. Oh wait, how about here…” and you shamelessly press your face into his neck, making the man shudder and open his eyes. You caught him off guard and shook him out of his drowsy state.

“My flame?” He feels your hands still in his hair and you softly giggle, tickling the sensitive skin even more.

“What?” Is muffled against his shoulder and Diluc shakes his head. But there is a slip of an adorning smile and he can practically feel some weight of the evening disappear.

“Nothing, my dear. If you haven’t suffocated yet, then there is none.”

You plant a kiss where his neck and shoulder connect and draw your face away, tugging the towel and completely dragging it off of his head. Ah, here it is, the bright grin he loves so much and readily mirrors in response.

“Yeah, there is none. Only an amazing smell of my body wash. Now you smell like me.”

“And I am honored,” he says sincerely, to which you happily hum, disappearing in the bathroom and reappearing only a moment after. “But I can’t help but wonder what got you so deep in thought?”

At first you raise a brow at him, but when he motions to the bed it clicks, and you hum, long and thoughtful.

“Oh, nothing, really. I was just thinking that maybe I should get a new bed. You know, enough to fit two people?”

Ah, that’s what it was about. Admittedly, Diluc is a big man - both tall and muscular, and you have only a one-person’s bed, which he alone could take over completely if lying sprawled. He knows he could always take the couch, but in those few times he stayed at your place, you insisted on sleeping together. And those closely tight embraces under the same blanket are ones of the fondest memories the redhead possesses.

“You know, we could redecorate this place a little and use it more frequently when one of us doesn’t have enough strength to go all the way to the winery. And the bed could be the first step.”

“Is your bed cramped when we sleep together?”

He is as surprised as you are when the question hangs in the air - he didn’t expect it to just burst out of his mouth. However, he also doesn’t want to let go of this tight, but so comforting space just yet - admittedly, it gives him some indescribable sense of completeness.

You stare at him silently, as if trying to guess what he’s thinking about and what answer he expects. But nothing is better than the truth itself.

“It is,” crimson eyes widen slightly and are immediately cast down. Not letting him dwell long on whatever he’s already imagined in his head, you step closer, touching his scarred forearm, gently gliding your fingertips over the skin, asking for his attention. And when he gives you just that, Diluc sees a reassuring smile. “In the good way.”

You chuckle softly when he releases a sigh of relief, and reach to cup his cheek, feeling your heart skip a beat when he leans into your open palm.

“But I am worried that you are uncomfortable. I see how much you love to stretch in the morning while in bed at the winery, and there is not enough space in my bed. And I can be in the way of your outstretched arm-”

“You are never in the way,” the words are firm and the dancing flame in the depths of his eyes is proof enough. “You are right by my side. And that’s why it’s perfect.”

“Oh, you…”

With the trilling laughter you let him fall onto his back, landing on the soft mattress, and draw your body right on top of his. Your chemise rides up, bearing your thighs, and rough fingers don’t wait long to dig into plush skin. You stare down at him, with palms firmly planted on his wide chest, feeling the steadily beating heart under the fingertips, relishing in the appreciative look he is giving you. And for all of that and so much more your bed is perfect, because it's enough.

#pearlywritings appreciation event #token of appreciation #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact fluff

[butchhamlet]

i said i was going to arrange a list of my favorite articles/criticism about shakespeare, so here’s my first little roundup! obligatory disclaimer that i don’t necessarily agree with or endorse every single point of view in each word of these articles, but they scratch my brain. will add to this list as i continue reading, and feel free to add your own favorites in the reblogs! :]

essays

Is Shakespeare For Everyone? by Austin Tichenor (a basic examination of that question)

Interrogating the Shakespeare System by Madeline Sayet (counterpoint/parallel to the above; on Shakespeare’s place in, and status as, imperialism)

Shakespeare in the Bush by Laura Bohannan (also a good parallel to the above; on whether Shakespeare is really culturally “universal”)

The Unified Theory of Ophelia: On Women, Writing, and Mental Illness ("I was trying to make sense of the different ways men and women related to Ophelia. Women seemed to invoke her like a patron saint; men seemed mostly interested in fetishizing her flowery, waterlogged corpse.”)

Hamlet Is a Suicide Text—It’s Time to Teach It Like One (on teaching shakespeare plays about suicide to high schoolers)

Commuting With Shylock by Dara Horn (on listening to MoV with a ten-year-old son, as modern jewish people, to look at that eternal question of Is This Play Antisemitic?)

All That Glisters is Not Gold (NPR episode, on whether it’s possible to perform othello, taming of the shrew, & merchant to do good instead of harm)

academic articles

the Norton Shakespeare’s intro to the Merchant of Venice (apologies about the highlights here; they are not mine; i scanned this from my rented copy)

the Norton Shakespeare’s intro to Henry the Fourth part 1 (and apologies for the angled page scans on this one; see above)

Richard II: A Modern Perspective by Harry Berger Jr (this is the article that made me understand richard ii)

Hamlet’s Older Brother (“Hamlet and Prince Hal are in the same situation, the distinction resting roughly on the difference between the problem of killing a king and the problem of becoming one. ... Hamlet is literature’s Mona Lisa, and Hal is the preliminary study for it.”)

Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony & Cleopatra Criticism (about more than just reviewers; my favorite deconstruction of shakespeare’s cleopatra in general)

Strange Flesh: Antony and Cleopatra and the Story of the Dissolving Warrior (“If Troilus and Cressida is [Shakespeare’s] vision of a world in which masculinity must be enacted in order to exist, Antony and Cleopatra is his vision of a world in which masculinity not only must be enacted, but simply cannot be enacted, his vision of a world in which this particular performance has broken down.”)

misc

Elegy of Fortinbras by Zbigniew Herbert (poem that makes me fucking insane)

Dirtbag Henry IV (what it sounds like.)

Cleopatra and Antony by Linda Bamber (what if a&c... was good.)

#essays/academic articles is sort of a false dichotomy but i wanted to separate these into More Casual versus More Academic. so. #misc category exists because. i like those two things so much. not at all for the same reasons #max.txt #misc #hamlet #merchant of venice #henry iv #richard ii #antony and cleopatra #there we are.

[apple-piety]

Something I just want to reiterate for people is that not every spirit/deity that comes into your life is a “calling”. Sometimes they come around just to remind you of something. Sometimes they show up and offer their help with something, and when that is finished, they leave. Sometimes they show interest, but it’s not a good time for you. It hurts to see people burnt out and floundering because they have 20+ deities that they’re trying to denote equal attention to. You’re just one person. For example, Alala, the daimon of the war-cry, stopped in to remind me to be louder and more assertive. Astarte showed up to point out that I wasn’t communicating with my partner well enough. Both of them did not stay. I could’ve asked them and they probably would’ve stayed but I only have so much energy and I couldn’t devote enough to either of them. Sometimes spirits show up and you find that you don’t vibe with that energy (infernals are cool and have helped me but my connection with them is weaker than other spirits). You can also simply worship them. The idea of “working with” a god has been entirely overused and I think it’s because we associate the word worship with the Christian god from our churchy upbringings. It’s okay that not all gods are equals to you.

In ancient times, Hephaestus would’ve taken precedence for blacksmiths, but he probably didn’t have a huge place in the house of traveling merchants (that’s Hermes’ domain). It’s the same in modern times. As a delivery driver, Hermes is huge for me. As someone who loves to learn and craft and has a strong sense of Justice, of course Athena is my patron. As an asexual aromantic person, Aphrodite doesn’t have much place in my life.

The gods don’t get offended when we prioritize who we are. If you are bookish and want to become wise, not just book smart, Athena is a great choice. If you are an extrovert who is looking to expand your awareness through ritualistic ecstasy, Dionysus is your man. The gods are fine without us. They like to help and be near us because it’s part of their vast, inconceivable nature.

Do you. 🤍

#pagan #paganism #hellenic deities #hellenic devotion #hellenic pagan #hellenism #hellenic polythiest #hellenic community #hellenic gods #witch #deity work #deity worship

[wishluc]

Oh god please elaborate on the Express Eatery thing! I love having Luocha as a customer

Going over this with Luocha, Yukong, Jing Yuan and Blade!

CW: yandere characters

So you work at the Express Eatery, and you start to notice that Luocha comes in every day with a new menu item he wants to try out. While waiting for his order he asks about your time on the Express and the meals you like and how you're finding the Luofu so far. He refuses to elaborate on the coffin he carries around or on anything else about his job apart from the "traveling merchant" line, but you let it slide because he's nice enough otherwise. He also tips very generously, and leaves glowing reviews, which may or may not play a role in you liking him despite how suspicious he can be at times. After he's cycled through all the items, however, he starts asking for other things; snacks you like to eat, whatever you usually have for breakfast, a dessert you're craving for, etc. And he starts bringing in dishes that he likes, and asks for you to eat them with him during your break (even waits outside your stall until you take your break, if you try and lie your way out of it). And when the day comes that you have to pack up and leave your short-lived stall behind, you do so without informing your number 1 customer, which doesn't go across well.

But how were you to know Luocha had also met Dan Heng before, and would be visiting the Express the very next day?

Other customers you meet include Yukong, who's sweet and has the most interesting stories for you. She offers to pilot a Starskiff for you (and promises that she's not a reckless driver anymore, unlike the stories of her youth she may have told you about), invites you to lively parties once you're done for the day, and even shows you around the Luofo herself. You do notice, however, that her eyes dim and her smile fades when you mention leaving the Luofo, even if you don't comment on it. Coming up to the days before you close the stall, she takes you on increasingly exciting trips around the Luofo, all the while assuring you that there is still much to see, as though to entice you into stay longer...

There's also Jing Yuan, who stays for long periods whenever he stops by. He stands by your stall with a languid smile, talking to you while eating. He has a habit of distracting you with sudden questions when ever you notice just how long he's been standing around, asking you about your thoughts on a dish or how long you've been with the Crew. And while his exterior is perfectly relaxed with you, if anyone else dares approach while he's there, all it takes is one inquisitive look from him to send the intruder scurrying away. You've never thought the General to be that frightening, but you supposed his position warranted some extent of fear. Normally, you would be a little irritated about how he was obstructing business, but there was no doubt his pleasant conversation and generous hand made for far better company than a queue of customers in a rush to their next stop.

But a few days before you're set to close the stall, you get approached by a group of officials who warn you that doing business without a permit is illegal. Apparently, whatever documents March got for your little side business wasn't enough, and you were missing some important components. Fortunately, Jing Yuan steps in and offers to help you settle the problem at once, and as you gratefully accept his assistance (with a promise to treat him to a serving of Cosmic Fried Rice on the house sometime). To your surprise, however, you're told that you're required to stay and continue doing business on the Luofu for another few weeks before the license is granted, and you find yourself having no choice but to comply. At least, the General is here to keep you company, right?

At first Blade stopped by only to pick up a serving or two before leaving right after, never indulging in conversation unlike your other patrons. Even his reviews were short and to the point, simply leaving a rating of 5 stars along with his moniker—but as long as it was a good review, you had no complaints. However, as time went by and you saw him increasingly more often (though you took note of the fact that he'd only ever come by when the shade fell across your stall just right and there were little to no other customers), he'd comment on your methods and packaging, with odd lines such as "The box didn't come apart even after a fight," and begin ordering in advance for the next day—he claimed this was a far more efficient system, and offered to pay extra as a booking fee.

He comes off a little strange at times, with his unnerving smile and his peculiar comments, but you think that Blade's one of your better customers. He's patient and his requests are simple, and he deals swiftly with any troublemakers around your stall. Surprisingly, him swinging around his sword threateningly doesn't discourage new customers from checking your stall out. So when the day comes that you have to inform him that there was no tomorrow for his order to be prepared in advance, Blade only regards you with a pensive look and the smallest of nods, before leaving. You would miss him, despite his oddities.

And then you're told that you have to accommodate for a temporary addition on the Astral Express, someone sent by Kafka, and who awaits you in the parlor car but Blade himself?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

#[I'm actually super into Yukong right now! Her lore is super cool but I couldn't think of much for her :(] #[Maybe I'll do a part two with Qingque/Susang/Kafka?] #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai #yandere x reader #yandere luocha #luocha x reader #luocha honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #honkai star rail x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #yandere yukong #yandere yukong x reader #yukong x reader #yukong hsr #yandere blade x reader #yandere blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #hsr blade #honkai star rail. 🌀 #mail. 🌀 #anon mail. 🌀 #asa.writes 🌀 #cw yandere