I had a dream where I accidently bumped into Neil Gaiman and even dream-me was like fucking fuck don't talk to me sir please if u look me in the eye you'll just know i write smut about ur characters. i am going to be sick

so uh yeah suffice to say the brain rot is taking over. my next post will be mad ramblings about the significance of ducks in good omens

teaching ghost how to make paper cranes but he keeps messing up with his huge ass hands <3333 (gn reader please! love your work❣️❣️)

*taps microphone* one “Ghost struggling” with a side of “Japanese paper folding art” coming right up. (A/N at the end)

———————————————————————

“This is even more annoying than Soap.”

“It’s not Soap’s fault you have sausages for fingers.” You murmur as you finish your tenth paper crane and set it on the conference table.

He examines the back of his hand as if he had just received a manicure. He then flips it over, palm facing up, and curls his fingers into a fist before releasing them.

“My fingers are not the problem,” he argues, “it’s these sheets; they are way too small.”

“Did you say ‘shits’ or ‘sheets’?” You quip, and he huffs at your comment. Yet, he picks up another piece of paper from the stack to try again.

You observe him as he leans over the table. He is pretty crafty when it comes to surviving in difficult situations; he can light a fire by creating a bow drill, build a shelter out of branches, and navigate the woods with a needle as a compass. But when it comes to these types of crafts, he struggles.

He starts folding again, a little gentler than before. Every time he completes a step, he pauses to assess his progress. He occasionally lets out a self-motivational hum and nods to himself.

But then something happens, and he loses it—a misaligned fold caused by his large hands or a paper rip as a result of his inexperience with handling such delicate materials. Sometimes he just feels discouraged, anticipating another failed try, and gives everything up.

Looking at his current attempt, you know the paper crane will fall apart. He completes his final folds and, as you anticipated, it comes loose. He groans and crumbles the paper.

“You can do it,” you assert. “I’ve seen you train unruly recruits with much more patience.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N,” he shouts, throwing his head back, “recruits are easier to shape into soldiers than moulding a fucking Post-it note into a duck.”

“It’s a crane,” you correct him; “ducks have another technique.”

“What’s the difference?” he complains. “Why do they have different folds if they are both birds?”

“For the same reason, an AK47 and an MP5 need different types of ammo, I guess.”

Despite his disappointment, he picks up another piece of paper and folds it again.

“Patience, Lt.,” you encourage him, “treat it as a recruit.”

He pauses for a minute, contemplating your advice, before he begins. He does not treat the paper as a target this time. He carefully pinches it with his fingers and folds it with his nails. In his eyes, the paper has taken on the appearance of something far too fragile. Something that needs to be helped and taken care of. It’s not against him, but with him—they’re allies working towards a common goal.

He completes it and places it in the palm of his hand, stretching his creation towards you. It’s not perfect, but nothing is.

“Excellent work, Lieutenant!” You cheer, and he proudly places his paper crane next to yours.

“It’s relaxing and meditative,” he admits; “all this folding and aligning makes you forget about things.”

“Things?” You ask as he pulls another sheet from the stack.

“You know,” he replies, staring at the paper in his hands, “bad things.”

You can see his emotions shifting through his eyes—they’re half-lidded as if they want to forget the atrocities they witnessed. His hands are fiddling with that paper; they are shameful hands in his mind—hands that participated in the worst horrors imaginable. They’re not worthy of making paper cranes.

“Paper cranes symbolise hope,” you comfort him, “and there’s a Japanese legend that says whoever makes a thousand of them will be granted a wish.”

His eyes light up, and he opens his lips to say something, but Soap enters the room. “What are you doing here?” He yells and sits on the table, right next to your paper cranes.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the sight of Soap but continues with his little project. “I’m making a thousand paper cranes to fulfil my wish.” He replies.

“What are you going to wish for, Lieutenant?” He asks, and Ghost replies with a stern “for you to get off my fucking back.”

You make quiet shushing noises to calm him down, and he inhales deeply.

“What is it that you want, Sergeant?” He finally asks, and Soap begins to report every problem around the base that would require Ghost’s attention.

“And the fridge broke last night, and all the meat has gone bad,” he concludes, “so it looks like we might have to eat a plant-based diet until we fix it.”

“That’s alright,” Ghost shrugs, “as long as we get our nutrients, we’ll be fine.”

Soap looks at you, dumbfounded. “Wow, Lt.!” he shouts, turning to Ghost, “these paper cranes have turned you into a bloody monk, haven’t they?”

“Paper crane, paper crane,” Ghost begins to chant as he folds, “go away, or you’ll end up with a fucking cane.”

“Ghost!” you cry. “Where is the patience and meditative state we discussed earlier?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and turns to Soap. “Namaste, sergeant,” he says and waves his hand in dismissal, “now fuck off.”

And who are you to tell him what to say or how to behave? You, too, are a project yourself, just like these cranes lined up in front of you. You look at the trash bin with all the papers he crumbled before completing his first successful paper fold art. Today he learned something new and joyful. Something that makes him feel content and proud rather than something that wakes him up in the middle of the night or, worse, prevents him from sleeping. Making a thousand paper cranes is so much better than watching him with that thousand-yard stare he gets after every mission.

Soap grabs one of your paper cranes, places it in his pocket, and leaves you two be.

Ghost completes his second successful paper crane and grabs another sheet. “Nine hundred and ninety-eight more to go,” he states, “you know, for that wish.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I had no idea how to make a paper crane, so I wanted to teach myself first in order to write this. And yes, I did it on a Post-it note (but not a sticky one). Also, this piece is 1000 words.

My Wife

Andrea Medina x Reader

Summary: You've known Andrea for a very long time

The first day you met Andrea Medina, you got married.

It was out in the schoolyard. It was your first day and she came bounding up to you, took your hand and said she was going to marry you.

You were shy so you agreed and you got married to her under the apple tree.

You remained by her side for most of your life. You couldn't even remember what it was like without her.

You were joined at the hip throughout your childhood. You would wait outside of training for her after school so you could get the bus back together. She would hang behind when you went to the library to study. You walked hand in hand everywhere together.

When people questioned it, Andrea would always respond the same way," I married her under the apple tree. I'm just being a good wife."

When you first married her, she gave you a Haribo ring to symbolise your love. It had been eaten by the end of the day.

She gave you a paper ring next. You wore it for weeks on end until one day it was raining and it ripped, falling straight off your finger.

After that came Andrea's own mother's wedding ring, which she had slipped off the woman's finger when she was asleep and brought into school for you. Your parents made you give it back though and Andrea just started holding your hand more in answer.

It was somewhat of a tradition, every year, to find an apple tree and get 'married' all over again. It started off as a cute thing little kids did but feelings developed almost as soon as you both hit puberty.

The change from best friends to girlfriends happened seamlessly for you both and soon Andrea was introducing you to everyone she could like she was bragging about something special.

"Hi, Miss Gallardo!" You said as you waited in the stands for Andrea to finish training.

"How many times have I said it? You don't need to call me Miss Gallardo. Lola is just fine."

Your face went a little red at the correction. "Right. Yes. Sorry, Miss Lola."

Lola groaned good naturedly, shaking her head fondly at you. "Andrea!" She yelled," Your girlfriend's here!"

Usually, after you finished your university classes, you would head straight to training to see Andrea so you were a very familiar sight to see waiting.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Andrea yelled back," She's my wife!"

Lola laughed, tucking you under her arm as she walked you over to your girlfriend. "No ring on her finger, no wife."

"She ate the first one!" Andrea complained, an arm coming out to wrap around your waist.

"It was very sweet," You replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek," And she did get me a ring." You pulled up the silver chain around your neck so Lola could see the ring hanging from it.

She rolled her eyes. "A promise ring isn't a wedding ring. It's like a pre-engagement-ring ring."

"Hey!" Andrea said," Don't be rude about our love!"

Lola laughed. "God, what is it with you kids and speedrunning life? Football career, finding your forever girl. Slow down a bit. You're making the rest of us look bad."

"You don't really need help with that," Andrea teased.

"Be nice to Miss Lola," You said to her," She doesn't have to put up with you."

"Fine." Andrea kissed your cheek and squeezed your waist.

"You should stick around more, y/n. Can you come to practice every day? I've never seen her shut up so quickly."

"Happy wife, happy life," Andrea replied.

"Alright, lovebirds," Lola teased," Off you go. Go be sappy and disgusting elsewhere."

You pulled Andrea after you. She got changed and showered in record time and soon you were walking hand-in-hand down the street.

The walk back was like second nature and you leaned happily into Andrea's side as she took the lead, ducking into a little cafe to get a much needed coffee.

"My favourite married couple!" The old lady at the counter exclaimed as you both ordered.

Andrea grinned triumphantly, puffing her chest out like she did whenever someone mentioned your childhood marriage.

"Our favourite coffee maker!" You say back, putting a hefty tip in the jar.

With your coffees in hand, you and Andrea wandered through a park and up a hill. You dumped your bags just in front of the apple tree.

"Okay," Andrea said, taking your hands and pulling you to stand under it," Ready?"

"Ready."

She cleared her throat and, just like when she was younger and didn't fully understand weddings, said," I love you!"

"I love you too!"

"Marry me?"

"I do!"

"I do!"

She grinned, spinning you around. "I am going to marry you," She promised," Properly."

"Good," You said," Because I'm getting sick and tired of introducing you as my wife without a proper ring."

Hii! Here I am with my rambles again lol, and too much talking 😅

Can I please request a Tangerine x fem!civilian/innocent!reader where where while on the Bullet Train, Y/n gets pulled into the mess of the Assassins when Ladybug made the mistake of hiding the case under her seat (she didn’t notice because she was asleep), and when she woke up and found it, she was confused (because it’s not hers), so she picks it up to return it to where all the luggage is, but unfortunately pretty much every assassin aboard the train saw her with it and now thinks she’s involved… A terrified Y/n pretty much stumbling over her own feet to get away from the various assassins. She’s pretty much running on adrenaline until she’s confronted by the Twins… She starts crying at first, insisting she has no clue what’s going on (though at first they don’t believe her, Lemon especially being skeptical since he could see through the Prince’s act), until the poor girl literally starts having a panic attack… After that she’s now under the protection of them both (Y/n feeling safe, and clinging to Tan). She’s with Tangerine when he confronts the Prince, and when Ladybug and Tan are fighting for the gun, Y/n pushes him out of the way before he gets shot, so the bullet hits her instead (but she lives)🥺 Tangerine and Lemon rushing her to their safe house (probably mansion), and save her life… Y/n waking up in a fancy bedroom with Tan by her side, him hugging her tightly and they kiss🥺

hii sweet!! love it! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

you saved mine, I saved yours

Tangerine x F!Reader

wc || 1.2k

warnings || mentions of blood and guns

masterlist + rules

taglist

You weren’t quite sure how long you had been asleep, but one thing you did know; your neck was killing. You had fallen asleep with your head resting on your shoulder at a crooked angle. Desperately shaking your shoulders to relieve the ache while you wiped the sleep from your eyes. Gazing out the window to figure out how far away you were from your stop. Stretching yourself straight, extending and twisting your ankles until they bump something under the seat. Reaching your hand underneath, you pull out a silver briefcase, looking at it inquisitively, trying to decide what to do with it.

Sitting yourself up, sleepily walking yourself through the carriage to place the case in the luggage area. But once you turn around, you see a group of angry people staring at you through the opposite carriage. Slowly slipping yourself away, ducking behind the door to avoid bringing attention to yourself. Walking down the aisle you came from in a normal manner, but when you hear footsteps trail behind, you speed up. Briskly walking through the carriage, out the door and into the next. Power walking through, running on pure adrenaline, trying your hardest to escape their incessant steps. Hearing more commotion come from behind, you start to run. Darting through the aisles until you bump into two men blocking the doorway.

“I’m so sorry.” You gush apologetically, avoiding their gaze, trying to get away.

“Watch where you’re going, yeah?” The taller guy frowns, looking down at you.

“I’m really sorry- I didn’t see. Excuse me.” You say quietly, attempting to squeeze past to continue running.

“I don’t think so.” He mumbles, gently tugging you into the toilets with his friend.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You sobbed, closing your eyes with your hands up to symbolise your innocence.

“Why you running?” The other guy says, barricading the door to stop you from leaving.

“People were chasing me.” You whispered staring at the floor.

“What did they want?” The moustache man asks, trying to find your eyes.

“I don’t know.” You quietly sob, rapidly shaking your head. “I don’t know- I put something back-“ you softly choke, immediately feeling yourself heat up. “I don’t know-“

“What did you put back?” He questions again, staring at you attentively.

“A-“ you start, cutting yourself to inhale heavily. Shaking and flapping your hands by your side to distract yourself from your chest that felt as though it was caving in.

“Lem, wait outside and block the door.” He instructs. “That’s my brother, by the way.”

That was when the fear settled, why did he want to get rid of his brother? What was he going to do?

Once the door was shut, he turns to look at you, watching over you with worried eyes.

“Hey- hey, it’s okay. Take a breath, yeah?” He says softly, holding either side of your shoulders. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Wryly grinning at you.

For some bizarre reason you felt as though you could trust this stranger, and with that, you immediately started to calm down. It could’ve gone worse, so you were glad he was able to help when he did.

“What did you put back?” He asks warmly with soft eyes.

“A case.” You whisper.

“Was it silver?” He questions, ears tugging back with intrigue.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, where’d you put it?” He asks hesitantly, not wanting to distress you further.

“In the luggage area- a few cars back.” Pointing to the left.

“Thank you, love. Come on… call me Tangerine.” He sweetly gestures, extending a hand for you to follow. He leads you out of the toilet, hiding and protecting you against the wall so that you couldn’t be seen.

You stand beside him as he walks you through the carriages to find his brother. Instinctively linking your arm into his, clinging to his side when you hear passengers talking from behind.

“It’s okay.” Softly brushing over your hand to ease you, gently squeezing it as he leads you into the blue LED-lit car.

At the end of the carriage, you see one of the people who were chasing you. Quietly mumbling to yourself and gripping his hand tighter. “It’s her.” You muttered.

He squeezes your hand once to tell you that he heard you. Pulling you behind him so he could protect you from the front.

“Oi! You, I know you.” He points to the girl.

“I’m so happy to see you, please help me.” She pleads, quivering as she steps forward. “There was this man…”

Instead, he pulls his gun from his holster behind him, angling the barrel towards the girl.

“Oh my god, please mister, help me!” She loudly exclaims to a man who bustled his way in.

The guy wrestles Tangerine to release his grip from the gun. Without thinking, you insert yourself between the two, separating them before a loud bang rings in your ear.

Tangerine stares at you with fearful eyes, his face full of worry. “Why did you do that?” He whispers, immediately clutching your shoulder to apply pressure. Tan’s brother rushes in once he hears the gunshot, fighting off his old acquaintance to clear the space for you. Tan gently holds you under your armpits to lower you to the floor. “Are- are you okay?” He mumbles, cupping your shoulder to stop the excessive bleeding.

“I don’t like blood.” You mutter, looking up at Tangerine.

“Lem, arrange a car.” He sternly instructs his brother. “Don’t look at it- look at me?” He says sweetly, angling your face upwards. “Keep your pretty eyes open, for me, yeah?” He added, his tone growing increasingly more distressed.

-

You awake in an unfamiliar room with sharp pains throbbing through your arm and chest. Softly groaning when you look at your bandaged torso.

“Oh, thank fuck.” A quiet voice mutters beside you.

Slowly turning your eyes to follow the voice, you see Tangerine hunched over with his elbows on his knees. “How you feeling?” He warmly questions, propping himself away from the chair to check you over.

“Rough.” You grumble, making a poor attempt at a laugh, immediately wincing at the sensation.

“You saved my life.” He grins, gazing over your sweet features.

“You saved mine first.” You smile with your eyes, unable to move anything else.

“That was really silly.” He warned, cupping your cheeks. “Really fucking silly.”

He leans into to place a long gentle kiss on your forehead, tucking the stray strands of hair behind your ear.

It didn’t feel strange or unnerving, it felt right. It felt comfortable. Itching your head back into the pillow, lifting your chin up to urge him to kiss your lips instead. He searches your eyes for permission, to which you instantly nod. Gently lifting your jaw to brush his lips over yours, softly working over them and lingering for a couple of moments before parting.

Tangerine drags the armchair closer to the bed, sitting at the edge of his seat to stroke over your hair, easing back to sleep. “I never got your name.” He says quietly.

Whispering your name with a smile before your eyes flutter shut.

[Redacted] Hanahaki AU

Hunched over the sink, [Redacted’s] body trembled as familiar pain blazed through him, before being overwhelmed by familiar nausea. Familiar tears streamed down his face, as he ducked his head and retched. He seized and writhed as he threw up, vomit and blood pooling in the sink, clinging to skin in a way that made him want to claw it off. 

‘Angel,’ he croaked, voice reverent almost as if he were in prayer. But they couldn’t hear him here. And, even if they could, what could they do? Hold his hair back? ‘They could love me. They could love me like I love them,’ he whispered to the empty room, with its cold, empty countertops.

After being sick a few more times and finally being reasonably certain that he wasn’t going to be again, they peered into the basin below. Although he already knew what to expect, his doctors always advised him to confirm before doing anything else. Sure enough, hidden amongst his filth, stained white petals shone through. 

Despite their beauty, what they symbolised or - rather - who, he couldn’t help but breathe out a pained swear. Almost entire Brugmansia Arborea or angel’s trumpet blooms were coagulated in the sink, baptised in ugly shades of browns and reds. He had tainted them, as he always did. 

He reached up to open the mirrored medicine cabinet but his reflection gave him pause. God, he looked like shit, covered in assorted bodily fluids, eyes haggard and hair ill-kept. He needed a shower, badly. He tranced a hand over the scar on his chest, like it could in any way quell the lingering pain. It never did. 

Especially with how fully formed the flowers were, they might have to crack open his ribs and clear out his lungs again within the year and he’d barely recovered from the previous round of surgery. 

[Redacted] knew how unusually severe their case was. How - no matter how many times they operated on him - they just couldn’t fully eradicate the roots that were so deeply enshrined in his flesh, how it only ever seemed to progress faster each time, how their beautiful petals secreted sweet poison but he would sooner die than give up on his Angel.

His Angel would reciprocate in time. He’d make sure of it.

They opened the cabinet and grabbed a new needle. He checked the packaging for the dosage of physostigmine, as he always did in case it had magically changed in his sleep (it hadn’t), before peeling the needle open and filling it. Finally, with ill-deserved tenderness, he lined the needle up with his arm and gritted his teeth. 

This part always hurt. 

@14dayswithyou because I think I saw somewhere where they said they like being @ ed but I can remove it if that’s what they’d prefer

as much as i like countries being born by simply appearing out of nowhere, i find the idea that each of them being created according to the prime myth of creation by people that live/used to live here before a bit more exciting.

imagine the tribe-spirits being engaged in their humans' mythology and playing along with their rituals, maybe even actively partaking in them or being worshipped as some ancient spirits/gods.

and since i headcanon ivan's first appearance as a vladimir-suzdal principality, which was primarly inhabitated by finnic tribe merja and later colonized by slavic tribes of ilmen slovens and krivichi, it could be plausiable that he was created according to the proto-uralic earth-diver myth. i.e basically prior to his creation, ivan was a sapropel at the bottom of the lake nero, which symbolised the world ocean and rostov, the first capital of the principality, had transformed into the diver-bird (most likely, a duck), recreating the ancient myth of the merja tribe. (of course, we don't know for sure what the merja people exactly believed in, but their closest surviving lingustic relatives the mari have the exact same myth)

in order to "create" his principality's physical body, rostov had to dive into the depths of the said lake and, as the great duck had pulled the piece of land in order to create the earth, he pulled the speck of the sapropel creating ivan as a country-spirit in the process.

Since my post about Odin Eidolon being in Ducktales 2017 got so much more attention than I thought it would get, I decided that I could mention some headcanons of mine about him in this post.

1. He has heterocromia, his right eye being bright green and his left eye bright red, which symbolises the fact that Odin's mind consists of One and what was left of Two, combined.

2. He can interact with technology just by looking at it which is a very useful trait, especially when he's spending time in the billionaires club and Mark Beaks is there blasting dupsted from his speakers on full volume and he can just side-eye the speakers to stop the music. And poor Mark just can't figure out how his speakers are turned off everytime Odin side-eyes them.

3. (I think this is actually canon about Odin) He can read minds which helps a lot when figuring out the motives of his rivals and their secret plans of trying to take him down. However the only person he doesn't use this ability on is his best friend, Donald, because he feels like he would be violating his friend's privacy by prying on his thoughts.

4. Since I'm a huge DonOdin shipper of course it was just eventual that Odin would be in love with Donald, but the only one who doesn't realise this is Donald himself, because he's a clueless moron. Even the kids and uncle Scrooge know.

5. Odin has his golden armour stored in a secret room in his house and he uses it only in extremely dire situations, like during the moonvasion and the final fight with F.O.W.L.

6. He has a good relationship with the triplets and he's like an uncle to them (yes, the kids can have so many uncles). All three of them admire him, because he's smart, charming and rich.

7. Sometimes, altough very rarely, when Odin is very furious he let's Two take control of his body for a while so that his evil twin could finally let some steam off with a good purpose, of course, by beating up bad guys.

8. Boyd is the only one who knows that Odin is actually an android, but since Odin doesn't want anyone to know about his secret, Boyd promised him to keep his secret safe with him, since not everyone wants to openly be an android or be outed as one (yes this is a methaphor of being gay).

Okay that's enough headcanons for now and I'm tired. I hope you liked my silly little headcanons about the gorgeous android duck!

Nezriel drabble?

NSFW Look Away (but also I clearly can't write nsfw lmao)

Context? Nesta gets to live and train with Azriel like she wanted I guess??

Soft music floated out from the doorway and they entered, ducking through a dim hallway until the world opened up into a well furnished foyer.

A woman - a Fae, red skinned and with a tail trailing behind her nodded in greeting. Azriel nodded back, no doubt an important and frequent enough guest to warrant his specific taste be catered to.

But tonight was not about him.

Nesta trailed behind him, in a slim fitted white dress and her hair in a bun at her nape.

Her stomach tightened as the reality of it hit her - excitement and nervousness colliding.

She'd been curious and after he'd poked light fun and raised a few brows at her choice of reading material, they'd talked about it - about the world that existed around sex, the one Nesta had only guessed at, one Azriel was apparently quite familiar with.

He'd asked her, weeks later, if she'd wanted to see it for herself and Nesta had fought off the blood rushing to her face to ask what he meant. The House of Inarus.

"According to legend," he moved towards an opening blocked off by heavy velvet drapes then pulled them aside, "Inarus, known to the Fae as the Traveller, was a Seraphim. He endured 5 trials in his mission to win the hand of Oriana, daughter of the first High King. This place has 5 floors, each descent symbolises a commitment to...endure what comes next."

The room was an organised chaos: here and there were chairs and tables collected in little groups with beings of every kind littered about the room, in every form of dress and undress available. The walls were a smooth dark stone that reflected the little light the chandeliers gave off. Soft music floating down from unseen space.

Nesta tried not to gawk as a water sprite wearing nothing but a pearl belt around her waist offered her a glass of swirling gold. She took it, unable to think as she watched the woman sway away. A second later she turned to see Azriel quietly observing her, a little bemused.

The glass in her hand suddenly felt ten times its weight, "I didn't mean to take it, I-"

He shrugged, casual in a way he rarely was outside the house, "Try it. It's a special import from Day, the recipe is courtesy of Helion's wild youth if he's to be believed."

Nesta hesitated but Azriel wasn't the type to be unnecessarily cruel, he wouldn't turn around and sell her out. The wine sparkled and fizzed, surprisingly light in flavour.

He moved, putting a gentle hand on the small of her back and his mouth near her ear, "This isn't what we came here to see."

He guided her around the room, which seemed to be a meeting place of sorts, until they had crossed to the other side and found a set of stairs descending into the dark.

The next room and its occupants were less shy, the furniture was arranged with the idea of display in mind and at the centre of every gathering was a pair or more putting on a show.

Nesta's eyes snagged on the intertwined forms, unfamiliar but not shocking. She'd read enough to understand, had touched herself to the thought of it.

She walked ahead of Azriel, vaguely aware of him trailing behind her, her eyes taking in every performance but her legs leading her to where she thought the next set of stairs might be.

Here she almost stopped, a little thrown off by the seemingly endless ocean of bodies writhing together. More than once a hand reached out to hers, beckoning her to join, but Nesta only glanced back at Azriel then continued around the room. Some dead part of her proprietary warred against the idea of having so many partners, unable to tell where one group began and the other ended.

On the third floor, she found Fae dressed and acting familiar roles; servants, slaves, priestesses, dogs, cats, cows, warriors and royalty. It caught and held her attention and Nesta found herself engrossed in one pair until the green eyes of the male caught on her, he grinned - sharp and wicked - as he pressed a heeled boot into the shoulder of the male kneeling before him.

"Care to join?" Azriel's voice seemed to somehow slip under the noises in the room rather than rise above it. Nesta shook her head, wondering if the warmth in her body was because of whatever Helion had baked into his strange wine.

Once again Azriel's hand moved to guide her, "Last one."

"I thought there were 5 floors."

"There are, but for now, this will be enough."

Her curiosity irked her but a larger part of her trusted Azriel. She had guessed at what might come next, wondered at the things Azriel might enjoy after they had begun their talks, and even dreamed about him once.

Nesta was met with the sight of a female, iridescent scales for skin, suspended by thick ropes. Behind her another female, an Illyrian, stood with a whip in hand.

The whip cracked on the merling's ass and she screamed, the sound caught on the gag in her mouth. Nesta watched, warmth spreading as the merling struggled against her binding, muscles flexing in an attempt to squirm. The whip cracked again and the merling's body shook, the wetness of her inner thighs catching in the dim light as she slowly rotated.

The Illyrian female lifted what Nesta almost thought was a second whip until it was turned and slowly inserted into the merling. All the while the Illyrian alternated between slapping and placing soft kisses to the dark blue bruises on the merling's ass. Each action eliciting a different reaction, the sounds almost hypnotic.

Around them, others watched, some pleasuring themselves and some pleasuring others. In other parts of the room, she spotted male bound to the floor by his neck and in another she thought she might have seen two people tied together. But still her eyes returned to the two females.

She didn't know how long she'd stood and watched but eventually her silver eyes dragged from the display to where Azriel stood leaning against a door on the other side of the room. In the dim light and with the shadows that always wreathed him, he should have been almost invisible but like this - when her eyes burned - Nesta saw everything. Even the small smile playing on his lips. He nodded towards the door, telling her to follow, then slipped through it.

Inside, an array of items meant to facilitate similar sorts of activities were arranged on tables against the walls. Rope, rods, paddles, gags, clamps and items that she really couldn't guess at.

"What did you think?"

Nesta moved towards the tray of more wine set beside it, "It was interesting."

Azriel followed, "Would you like to try something like that?"

She'd been prepared for the question, it seemed only natural after everything that had led them to this moment, so she nodded.

There was a part of Azriel that might have warned her off it, might have wanted to show her more than she could handle to scare her. It was how he had dealt with certain people in the past. It was the kind of thing he might do if it were Elain standing before him.

But he had seen it in Nesta's eyes, sensed in the way her breath caught when she read the more risque books. She'd taken up her training and given up her drinking according to Feyre and Rhys' wishes once her own to be away from Cassian and Windhaven had been granted. And yet he could sense she still needed some sort of outlet.

"You should know, before you start, the rules of engagement. It's not something I would recommend rushing into and it takes a lot more vulnerability than you might think." Azriel moved towards her, drawn in by the way her heart beat a little faster than usual. He imagined the rush might be intoxicating though Nesta hid it well enough. She did that often. This might be the place she finally let it all out. Azriel wondered what that might sound like. "For tonight, you can watch, get to know some of the others and maybe try a few things - or we could go home, it's up to you."

Her gaze slid past him, surveyed the items laid out, then flicked to his face, "When you come here, what do you do?"

He couldn't help the breathy chuckle that escaped him, he didn't want to scare her, "This room is mine, for private use."

Nesta nodded, again surveying the items, mind working, "Do you like pain?"

The question almost caught him off guard, "Sometimes."

"And if...if I said yes, you'd do that to me?"

The words twisted his gut. All at once it was an admittance of trust, of longing, a confirmation that their shared silences and the way Nesta seemed to never run out of questions - all of it had meant the same to her as they had to him. He was not a monster for liking the way she felt in his arms when they flew together. He was not wrong for looking forward to returning to the house after days away. Even those dreams, liking the scent of her, having to touch himself when he knew she was doing the same...

But he was a traitor to his brother.

"Do you want me to do that to you?"

"Maybe," A faint blush coloured her cheeks and she glanced at the floor, the space between them, "...but... it's just...I would want to start...slower?"

Azriel stepped forward, closing the distance and drawing her attention up at his face. He reached for her - he had learnt with Nesta that she was weary and tended to reciprocate rather than take the lead when she felt uncomfortable, "Start slower?"

He moved impossibly closer until they were almost flush. The thumb of one hand traced her jawline while the other rested on her hip. It was more than he had ever dared to do but not enough to raise her defences.

Her silver eyes met his then dipped to his lips and Azriel resisted the urge to spend the rest of the night simply kissing her.

Again there was that blush that had her averting her gaze, "I haven't...yet shared my bed with anyone."

He was a little surprised, especially when gossip had spread of the High Lady's sister seen kissing sailors in the dim corners of dingy taverns. But another part of him was just as unsurprised - she was still Nesta, still walled off and, until a few months ago, she might have been waiting for a certain someone to be the one she shared all this with.

Azriel wondered if he should have felt guilty as he leaned in and met Nesta's mouth with his own. She hesitated for less than a second, maybe a little surprised they had finally crossed that bridge, but it didn't last.

She moved to meet him, mirroring the slow way he kissed her, tipping her head back and leaning her body in when their tongues met.

One of Nesta's hand cupped his face and the other held his nape. His own moved to pull at her hips before one moved across her back and the other slid down to find the slit in her dress. He bent a little to find the back of her knee then pulled her up and settled her against him.

Nesta gasped into his mouth, the sound burning into him, but simply moved her hands to his shoulders. In a second, the world moved, wind brushing against them and then Azriel was sitting.

The position forced her dress up, too tight to fit over her straddling thighs and hips. Without thinking, Azriel's hand followed, tracing the soft skin of her thighs and squeezing her ass. This time her gasp was half moan and Azriel let his mouth follow the column of her throat instead, licking, sucking and biting until she was squirming in his lap.

Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled until he was forced to look up at her through lidded eyes. Still his hands moved under her dress, groping and squeezing as they worked their way closer to her panties.

Nesta's other hand moved to unbuttoned and unclip his shirt, pushing the fabric away and brushing over the inked skin.

He at last traced his fingers over the wet fabric between her legs and felt Nesta's body tense slightly then shift to grind against him.

-------

I cannot write sex but know that they do have sex. And then, weeks later they go back and Nesta ties up Azriel and dommes him.

I made a meme to symbolise my hatred for Donald Duck 😘

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Opals and Moonstones

AKA Smol Once Again Uses Birthstones And Birth Flowers To Do Character Analysis. This time we have a twofer, as we'll be looking at Nishiki AND Kiryu! (with a bonus Yumi!) (this is gonna be another long one so please do check out under the cut)

Let's start with Nishikiyama.

His birth date is October 8th, 1968, leaving him with the birthstones opal and tourmaline (originally specifically pink tourmaline but now includes all types).

Now, apparently, tourmaline is the modern birthstone for October, and was made so in 1952 with the approval of the American Gem Society and the National Retail Jewellers Council. I will expand on this stone in another post, because it's the opals I really want to focus on (although it's worth noting that both stones are apparently good for emotional stabilisation, grounding, and healing. :) )

You see, the reason they threw in pink tourmaline as new birthstone is apparently because "In October’s case, the opal was seen by many to be too feminine in appearance and there were questions about its durability". Opals are a very delicate stone, with a water content of 5-10%, which leaves them very vulnerable to cracking under very dry conditions or sudden changes in temperatures. It can even cause them to shrink or expand, so they need a bit more care and maintenance (although you can apparently improve them by wetting them with a lil bit of water, which, idk, I find that fun because fish live in water, 'nishiki' is a koi, you get me?)

We all saw how Nishiki handled suddenly having most of his family and support network ripped from him plus the added pressure of running a new family full of people who very openly disrespect him and see him as some useless weakling they're all obligated to deal with. I'm not the only one who sees the opal parallels, right?

So, opals are a soft, feminine, easily damaged stone, but they also represent love, passion, luck, and healing, and associated with channelling strong emotions. In Roman times it was called the Cupid Stone, and was well-sought after, so overall has a lot of positive meanings and connotations...until a random-ass novel accidentally lead to them being considered bad luck. How dandy.

Now, Kiryu. And by extension, Yumi.

Kiryu's birth date is June 17th, 1968, and Yumi's is June 30th, 1971. (I find it very amusing that Kiryu forgot about Yumi's birthday when it's only a couple of weeks after his lmao)

This means that these lucky ducks actually get three birthstones: alexandrite, pearl, and moonstone.

Alexandrite apparently brings luck, intellect, and prosperity, somewhat similar to tourmaline (it can even be a similar colour to it). Pearls on the other hand symbolise wisdom, especially wisdom gained through experience, as well as calmness, integrity, and loyalty.

I think this is very fitting for our favourite dragon, isn't it? A man whose experiences help him grow from a naive kid into a man who stands by his principles and does whatever he can to help and protect his loved ones althoughitcanbearguedhowmuchhelearnsbutthatsapostforanotherday

But again, there's a particular stone I want to look at, which is of course the moonstone.

It's another stone associated with good luck and fortune, apparently considered sacred in India. It's also a stone of new beginnings and inner growth and strength. Again, fitting for Kiryu's return to Kamurocho after 10 years in the joi- behind bars. However, the reason it interests me is its connections and similarities with opals.

See, at first thought/glance, the two stones are very similar. They're (usually) a white colour but reflect an entire rainbow. And yet, they do so differently; moonstones has what's called 'adularescence', a faint glow akin to the moon shining on the ocean's surface, whereas opals are, naturally, 'opalescent', which is more glittering specks of colour.

Both stones are associated, of course, with the moon and the ocean (as are pearls). Both are considered good-luck charms, are meant to ground emotions, and are associated with femininity. Like, look at this:

Doesn't this sum them up? They're similar but different; Kiryu's calmer, grounding presence combined with Nishiki's more emotional, passionate nature. No wonder the two of them make such a great team!!!

And then I saw this:

:)))))))

It's just....if we keep up with the birthstone imagery/parallels, this means that the two people Nishiki loves the most are 'spiritually' incompatible. That, and the fact that opals are "softer and more easily damaged compared to moonstone" (see how Kiryu handles adversity vs Nishiki handling his struggles). Yknow despite this long-ass post I really don't know quite how to articulate what I'm trying to say, but I'm hoping you see what I mean?

The two men need each other and are stronger together however this strength is so amplified that when the two are separated Nishiki looks so much weaker in comparison, at least in others eyes. He cries, he gets overwhelmed, he lashes out and yells when he's angry, he makes his emotions known. He cares so much about image and how he presents himself to the world, but he has the bad luck of being next to a man with freakish levels of raw brute strength and a naturally stoic outward appearance that he just isn't as impressive in comparison, even though he's NOT unimpressive or incapable! I'm pretty sure that of the two, Nishiki actually knows what the fuck he's doing!

And that's the thing, people think Nishiki is nothing without Kiryu, himself included, but what is Kiryu without Nishiki? The man loves his brother, and I think he's the only one who seems to have an inkling of Nishiki's worth. The two banter and he's like "oh, like you know so much" about being a yakuza and how one should act, but I do think Kiryu trust Nishiki. He goes along with what he says for the most part because he 'knows' that Nishiki knows what he's talking about. He looks up to Nishiki. He sacrificed his freedom to protect him. After those 10 years he wanted to see his brother again.

Unfortunately, a lot changed in those 10 years. The opal cracked under the pressure. Its power and influence grew but its sense of self and stability shrank, leaving it both far too big and far, far too small for its setting. All it needed was a bit maintenance, a bit of care. But it didn't receive that. And instead, the moonstone ended up alone.

Yu Ziyuan Analysis- Her Name (Part 1)

YZY and JFM are controversial characters in the MDZS fandom that are often misunderstood. Like most CN novels, key to understand each characters often lies in their names. So let’s start with Mdm Yu.

Meaning The surname 虞 has an interesting history. This is an ancient surname that was claimed to have originated from the legendary king Yu Shun. His son, Shang Jun, was subsequently granted the Yu Kingdom (currently located in modern day Yucheng). The descendants of Shang Jun subsequently took the name Yu. So this, is an old noble surname.

Ziyuan 紫鸢 translates to purple ‘鸢 yuan’. A Yuan鸢 usually refers to an owl, harrier or eagle. It also sounds very very similar to kite (纸鸢 Zhiyuan). (granted that their pinyin differ slightly lmao) I’m guessing this is why MXTX included the parts when she was screaming at JC and wwx when they were playing with kites.

Chinese meta 鸢 is also a homonym for the more commonly used 鸳, which usually refers to mandarin ducks. Which in turn usually symbolises married couples in Chinese culture.

C fans speculate that the origin of her name likely comes from Li Bai’s 李白 Poem “Goodbye to your Lover”. 代别情人

Background history about the poem: This is a poem that Li Bai wrote on someone’s behalf. (This was a common practice during ancient times; ie. hire a poet to write your homework love letters) As the name implies, it’s about someone missing their lover when their lover has gone.

清水本不动，桃花发岸傍。 I’m as reserved as still water, you’re like the peach blossoms growing on the shore.

桃花弄水色，波荡摇春光。 The peach blossoms play with the colours in the water; and the water ripple with the colours of spring

我悦子容艳，子倾我文章。 I love the way you look, you love my poems.

风吹绿琴去，曲度紫鸳鸯。 With the Guzheng, I play the “Purple Mandarin Ducks”. The melody drifts along in the breeze. (Her name comes from the term “Purple Mandarin Ducks)

昔作一水鱼，今成两枝鸟。 We used to be happy as a fish in the water, but now we’re like two birds on a tree branch. (T/N: the imagery of a “fish in the water” is often to describe a couple in love. For example, “鱼水之欢” (fish rejoicing in the water) refers to the intimate sex life of a couple. Thanks Meatbun for teaching me this lifechanging R18+ idiom lol)

哀哀长鸡鸣，夜夜达五晓。 We mourn for each other through the night till day break.

起折相思树，归赠知寸心。 I give you a branch of the lovesick tree, as a symbol of my feelings. (T/N: This refers to the Acacia tree.)

覆水不可收，行云难重寻。 The water has been splashed out and cannot return. It’s hard to find the ever floating clouds.

天涯有度鸟，莫绝瑶华音。 Even if we are like birds separated by the horizon, please don’t ever forget the precious message these letters.

TLDR; the poem starts with the love the couple once shared when they were young, which was followed by the time they separated. The poem then describes that they can’t be together anymore. And finally, it ends with the hope that they’ll be able to talk about this lost love again.

(I’ll stop here for now. In our next meta, I’ll be analysing her background)

Reference: (1) (2) (3)

Okay okay okay but what if!! For your first ever family dinner away from your family, in the care of someone who insists they are going to start one with you, they have a bunch of traditional foods...

And there's several duck dishes. Anything that doesn't outright symbolise a happy family is replaced with duck, or a duck filled variation (eggrolls that have shredded duck in them, inexplicably, tang yuan in a salty duck broth instead of a sweet syrup).

Because ducks symbolise love and fidelity.

Ak ana

The Turkic people, as well as the Khanty and Mansi peoples of Siberia, worship the "Holy Mother" as their primordial creator-goddess. She is also known as the Goddess of Water. She was Kayra Han's consort and daughter.

Water existed long before Earth. Thus, she was regarded as Earth's elder sister. Water was the source of the Earth's creation.[1] Tengri (God) Kaira Khan, according to old Turkic beliefs, is a clean, white goose that ceaselessly hovers over an unending stretch of water (time). However, before Ak-Ana comes to encourage Kaira Khan to create,[2] he feels a disruption in his serenity. A "sacred duck" named Lura pulled the sand, clay, and silt from the bottom of the water, resulting in the formation of Earth. Everything in existence started out as water. Water produced an equal number of alien and hostile components. It was the owner of spirits and the portal to the other realm. The Ak Ana determined the life, fertility, and production of the land.

Ak Ana means "White Mother," with "white" meaning white and "mother" meaning mother, reflecting her role as the Mother deity who willed and encouraged Ülgen to create everything. She began the life cycle by instilling spirit in everything. In Turkic mythology, water existed before everything else was formed. Ak Ana came from the sea and instructed Ülgen three times: "Create." Her body is formed of light, and her antlers symbolise her strength. Her tail is comparable to that of a mermaid, and she is accompanied by starfish.

She is claimed to reside in Akdeniz (the Mediterranean Sea), and in some traditions, she rises from the sea as a deer. The Ak/white in her name symbolises purity and water.

Element: Water

Animal: Deer and starfish

Colour: White

Crystals: Those associated with the sea like aquamarine, beach stones, pearls and probably sea shells could work.

Incense: Sea and ocean scents

+ Candles are great too since she is a being of pure light.

Under a Golden Moon short story: The Thief

The tortoiseshell glances over hir shoulder. Nobody's there, ze thinks, but ze can't convince hirself it's true - if ze's wrong, it's hir death that will be the result. Ze's risking so much for this. It'll be worth it, though. It has to be. Ze takes a last deep breath before striding forward, steadying hir shivering as much as ze can. The building is tall, blocky, built of hard stone. It stretches up to the sky like a message. The door is unlocked. This can't be right, it can't be this easy. But the cat reaches out a white paw, scarred with the marks of a slip-up when ze first started whittling. Ze never made that mistake again: ze has learned by now that ze must be cautious. That lesson will stand hir in good stead. Ze hopes. A glance around. Everything here is brightly-coloured. To the tortoiseshell's left, the stairs stretch upwards, and ze runs up them, taking them two at a time, then three, no longer cautious of the risk. Ze's almost there. Almost there. "There it is!" Ze can't stop hirself from exclaiming hir excitement. Immediately ze regrets it. There's nobody else here, but the sound of hir voice makes hir feel sick. As it always does. Ze grabs the rectangular object, clad in every shade of the rainbow, and tucks it into the bag hung over hir shoulder. A brief smile. And now ze runs. But the door is closed now, and didn't ze leave it open? Ze places a paw onto the inner handle, tries to push it down and open the door. Locked. Panicking now, ze spins around. Hir breath is shallow. Ze can't think. Can't breathe now. Except ze could if ze just pulled hirself together. What's even the point of this? Ze's lying to hirself. Might as well leave hir precious prize behind, because it won't change who ze is. No. Ze's come too far, risked too much, to surrender this hope, hopeless though it may be. Ze looks around for a key. If ze can't find one, ze doubts hir small amount of strength will be enough to force the door open - in which case ze's trapped. Nobody knows ze's here. Nobody can know, because nobody will understand. "Could have sworn I'd closed that door," a voice mutters from the next room. "Can't let the books get damaged. N' if Yew's Guard get to it they're gonna burn 'em all, probably." The thief - because that is what ze is, not a simple scavenger as ze had thought - starts. Ze isn't the only one who knows about this place. Ze isn't the only one who knows about the danger if it is discovered. Ze makes sure that the book is secure, and tightens hir grip on the handle of hir bag, painted with the colours that allegedly symbolise hir identity: two shades of orange, white, two shades of blue. Nobody else in Yew's Guard knows the meaning. If they did, ze would have been exiled by now - hence the need for secrecy. But ze had to indulge this one childish hope. The door to the other room opens, and the thief ducks behind a shelf. A short, scarred tabby walks through the door. They glance at the door, then to the shelf where the thief hides. "Who's there?" they ask. Well. Ze's caught now. "Just me," ze says, stepping out from behind the shelf, clutching the bag in the same manner that a drowning cat might clutch a rope connecting them to the shore. "And who're you?" "I'm…my name is…" ze stops. Ze's not ready for that. "I'm just here to look, I…I swear! I'm not stealing or anything, but it's dangerous at home and -" The tabby sighs. "You took a book. Didn't you." It's not even a question. "Yes, but I'll - I'll return it - just -" "No. Keep it. You need it. I'm Autumn, by the way. She/her." She unlocks the door The thief nods. "My pronouns are… are ze/hir." There's a freedom in admitting it. "And… I mean, my parents called me Golden… and I like the name… but I'm… I don't know, you're meant to change it, aren't you?" "Don't let anyone force ya to do that. 's your name, not theirs." The thief nods again. And makes hir escape.

https://www.tumblr.com/youraverageaemondsimp/732433017046548480/not-asking-but-i-just-wanna-share-a-headcanon-of

okay. i can't help but continue this. i am detailing their ceremony and wedding night. ;)

the wedding ceremony looked something out of a chinese fantasy drama with the hall decorated with dragons and phoenixes. at the front of the shrine were chinese characters that symbolised double happiness, which represented the groom and the bride. the reader's dress was a red cheongsam with details of her chinese and south east asian heritage stitched into it, such as the peonies, cranes and mandarin ducks. the flare of her cheongsam looked as if it was the tail of a phoenix. as for her hair, it was adorned with a traditional chinese headdress and pins adorned into it. aemond could not help but feel incredibly lucky of the woman he was about to marry. and he could not help but feel slightly smug at the envious stares of those who wanted to be in his shoes.

after the ceremony, aemond took her back to their hotel room. he then gently kissed her, as he carefully took off the pins that were woven into her hair. he could feel the warm tresses of her hair fall next to her breast, as he carefully peeled off the cheongsam off from her body before encouraging her to take off his clothes as well. he could feel the reader's tiny yet warm and gentle fingers unbuttoning his shirt and sliding them off his shoulders and chest. despite being naked before, aemond could feel the reader's nervousness, so he cradled her and laid her down on their marriage bed that were dotted with roses. she looked divine. red was definitely her colour. aemond made a mental note to design more dresses in the colour red.

aemond then laced his fingers into her burned ones and pressed them above her head in order to prevent her from covering her chest, leaving reader completely flushed as aemond eyed her nipples that were begging for his attention. the reader gasped as he kissed them, making her core clenched and unclenched, before massaging both of her breasts.

finally, he couldn't take it anymore. aemond then positioned herself between her legs as he slowly entered inside her. the reader could feel him stretching her. she then felt him nudge a barrier inside her before gently pushing through, leading her to cry out in pain.

"i'm sorry," aemond said repeatedly, kissing away her tears.

she then begged for him to move inside her, leading to erotic wet noise to fill the air, before he poured himself into her fertile womb.

the next day, the reader woke up, feeling sore yet rejuvenated, despite her aching nipples, heavy breasts and a womb that was sore from arousal.

OH ME OH MY PHEW THIS WAS SO HOT!!!! HIM WANTING TO DESIGN MORE DRESSES IN RED BECAUSE SHE LOOKS GOOD IN IT??? OH MY GOD, i absolutely love the cultural aspects of this sm, aemond making efforts for her, he's such a sweetie AND THE WAY HE WAS SO SOFT WITH HER DURING SEX?????????? lordy i love him.