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anantaru · 10 months

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— drunk genshin boys

including heizou, alhaitham, scaramouche, kaveh, pantalone, childe, diluc, cyno x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, idk what this is but very cute

drunk! heizou who gets tremendously clingy with you— he doesn‘t have anything but embracing and snuggling up to you in mind. from the beginning, before anything else, you have to help him get to bed, he can barely walk in a straight line and you wonder who he was sharing his drinks with— might be kazuha for all you know. "you‘re so good to me." he slurrs his words, eyes lowered and almost closed but keeping them open, heizou tries to because he can’t keep his eyes off you— even when drunk out of his mind, then the sweet man reaches his arms out for you, "come here come here." it’s a combination of a pitchy whine and a pout displayed before you and archons, how can someone be this adorable without even trying hard? you wonder but ultimately smile at your boyfriend, drawing a fuzzy blanket over his body before leaning into his chest.

drunk! alhaitham who fights with himself, more or less— he can hardly stand. you see, your boyfriend knows he‘s drunk and now he‘s forcing himself to sober up with nothing but pure, strong willpower and a good spirit at hand, but beware, he knows it‘s not possible but he tries to tell himself to sober up regardless, even when aware that that‘s not how it works in the general rule of booze. "i have almost conquered myself." he announces proudly while leaning against your shoulder, his soft hair ruffled and ticking your cheek. "yeah yeah." you playfully roll your eyes, placing your hand on top of his thigh while petting the clothed skin. it‘s when he places his palm on top of your hand to catch you in his embrace before you can notice the faint, soundly snoring sounds of your boyfriend succumbing to a deep slumber against you.

drunk! scaramouche who, much to your own surprise, tends to indicate a few kisses, cuddles and silently thanks you for taking care of him— it‘s especially surprising since this never happens when he‘s not under the influence of alcohol. truthfully, he didn‘t think he was even capable to get drunk and tried a bunch of different beverages around sumeru city. what he didn‘t know was that, alcohol can become a little tricky, especially when it hits you somewhat delayed. you were quick to notice his cheeks changing their color until his entire face was covered in red— the small pants from his parted lips and his larger pupils only proving your point. "nuisance." kuni curses, planting his arm over your shoulder as he makes you stop for a second, keeping your movements to a stand still. "kiss." he leans closer, no words following, ultimately failing to hit your lips and bumping in your nose instead— at this point you’re dying of laughter, you had even attempted to fight your giggles but how could that even be an option when he‘s like that? yet to the best part, you show him how it‘s done and properly melt your lips on his.

drunk! kaveh who— and such fact is known throughout all of sumeru, was a lightweight on the inside, but sometimes had the need to pretend to actually be able to hold his drinks in. you on the other hand knew your boyfriend and his tendencies to drink a little bit too much whenever he‘s meeting up with his friends for a round of tcg or anything really— most of the time it does consist of gossiping. considering this, you always await him late at night, knowing full on well that he‘s going to have a hard time getting out of his shoes or, frankly, find the way to his bedroom. "i‘m not- not drunk!" he proclaims with a pitched, half broken tone, raising his pointer finger in the air, "drunk not i not!" and stammers before dropping into his bed face first. you welcome him with a smile, "you sure aren‘t." and amusingly shake your head but not before placing a bucket next to the bed for— well, who knows what you both will face this entire night.

drunk! pantalone who loves to drink a few glasses of red wine— reveling in the massive flavor of different nuances the beverage had in store after a long day of working himself to frenzied tiredness. believe it or not but he knows the limits of his body quite well, yet even he can overindulge in it from time to time. in which case would he make himself overly noticable the moment he stumbles home. it‘s louder than usual and you wonder if he actually tripped over and fell carelessly or ran against the door. but the man finds you at last as he always did, you long since ready for bed before dropping right next to you, still fully clothed in a perfectly fitted garment and his glasses messily shoved up, "i may have had too many drinks tonight." he admits against his own volition, rubbing his head and the tiny red spot emerging on his forehead— he really did hit the door, "and you may need to help me out of my clothes."

drunk! childe who doesn‘t consider a party being a real event without him in it— surprinsingly was the eleventh harbinger good with keeping his booze in, it‘s rarely for him to get real, drop dead drunk, but when he does— oh boy, you can be sure he won‘t stop talking to you the entire night. "have i told you about that time i dropped a whale on an entire army?" brazen words after arrogant notions, ajax cuddles himself against your back to try to turn you towards him, after all, he thinks you weren‘t listening with your body being turned away like that. after a deep-rooted yawn, you pull yourself to the left to face him, "you did." and cradle his cheek, "you did at last three times this past hour."

drunk! diluc who, much to his own embarrassment, needs to be taken care of. the man loathes alcohol to his very core, but even he needs to occasionally drink a couple glasses with important partners who he had been collaborating and working with. "i can‘t feel my legs." he almost whines at the loss of his senses, numb and tired as you repeatedly dapped a cold washcloth on his forehead while he was continuously pinching his biceps, "that‘s your arm baby." your expression softened slightly as you carried on to clean him up. as it was time to turn in for the night, you felt diluc‘s intense, warm presence closer than on any other day before, "please don‘t leave." his words find your ears with such ease, like a piece of his own soul, a bright, hopeful voice, full of hope but webbed in bristling fear, "i won‘t."

drunk! cyno who— and this really doesn‘t surprise you at this point in time, pompously shows off all his aquired and bundled up jokes, you had, in the beginning of your relationship, thought that what if he would genuinely turn out to be legitimately hilarious when in such wobbly state. "a tighnari and cyno walk into a bar." he pulls his mask off and places it on a drawer that, and don‘t ever tell him that, but there isn‘t a drawer there, he‘s just imagining things, "knock knock, *hiccup* who‘s there?" cyno quickly stops himself as you pick up the mask and put it on a real drawer, sliding into the warm bedsheets beside him afterwards, "wait, that‘s not how the joke goes." the man wrinkles his nose in thought, blinking rapidly while looking at you through puppy eyes, as if you had an actual idea on what he‘s talking about.

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melonn-soda · 7 days

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❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying.

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

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falmerbrook · 3 months

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Ear Headcanons

So this was meant to be just my headcanon for the differences between the different mer races' ears (size, shape, if they can move on their own, etc.), but there's a tinge of just general visual differences between them in there too (because this ended up being really good face practice for me). I'll mostly talk about ears though. Obviously this is more meant to be general trends than hard and fast rules.

I'll start with the playable races.

Altmer

Tall and skinny ears that can move out and back a bit (moderate range of motion). They mostly are close to the head but can also stick out a bit.

Dunmer

They have a wide variety of how their ears can be shaped; small, tall, wide, big, straight up, curvy, etc. The typically stick out more than Altmer's and have a larger range of motion.

Bosmer

The largest variety of any of the races. Their ears can look like just about anything any other race has (except maybe Maormer) from any mer ears, to more human ears, to more animal-like ones. They have a large range of motion regardless of how they look.

Orsimer

Small, almost human-sized ears, but they stick out more from the head than humans and can be wider. The pointed end tends to stick out. They can rarely move.

Breton

Breton basically just have human ears with a little point at the top. I thought it would be fun to draw a sort of comparison to your average Nede and average Breton to highlight the subtle more merish look that I think Bretons should have too.

Ok now for non-playable races

Snow elves/Falmer

Ok so I have terminal Falmer brainrot so I have a lot of completely made up headcanons for these guys sorry lol.

Snow elves have the least variety. They are usually shorter and closer to the head than the other mer races (which evolved as an adaptation to counter frostbite in my headcanon) and can't move. Conversely, I like to headcanon that falmer are on their way to evolving rudimentary echolocation, and therefore have huge ears that stick out far from their head, and are very mobile (this is also why their faces are covered in wrinkles). They can look more traditionally merish, or some of them have real funky shapes.

Chimer

Basically a mix between how the Altmer/Aldmer and current Dunmer look (both in their general appearance and ears). Think of it like the transition between the Aldmer look and Dunmer.

Dwemer

Dwemer have relatively short ears (compared to other mer) and don't stick out much, but they can be wide along the side of the head. Their shape is usually pretty angular and have limited mobility.

Aldmer

Your standard pointy fantasy elf ears. So I technically headcanon the Aldmer as many different (although similar) groups that are referred to as one group due to the nature of retelling history and some propaganda sprinkled in there, but in general, since the other mer of Tamriel descended from them, I see them as sort of generic. Nothing particularly notable in their ears. Minimal to moderate ability to move them.

Ayleid

Curvy. They have Aldmer sized ears with twisting and curving in different directions. Limited movement, and not too much range in size (just shape). I have 0 reasons for thinking this, I just thought it would be fun and unique and maybe fit their aesthetics.

Maormer

I like that canon Maormer ears look fin-like but I want to turn it up to 11. Large variety of shape and size, but usually large and fin-shaped as a general trend. Huge range of movement.

Ohmes/Ohmes-raht

They aren't elves, but they are described as human/mer-like, so I figured I'd include the Ohmes. They usually have pointy, mer-esque ears, but less distinct than most mer. Despite being relatively small, they have a wide range of movement for their size (and move in similar ways to the way cats ears move for the rest of the Khajiit). They can be extra fuzzy or have little tufts at the end for Ohmes-raht.

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tumb1rprincess · 3 months

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Okay, I just binged the rest of the Hazbin Hotel episodes.

Carmilla and Zestial are hot. And Carmilla is so interesting. I loved her and Vaggie's song. I actually didn't expect them to reveal who killed the angel so quickly. But I love how they're showing that even some of the top overlords in Hell care. The only question now is what Alastor is going to do with this information.

I love Vox. He has a great voice and his rivalry with Alastor is hilarious.

Sir Pentious is such a fucking loser and I adore him.

Nifty almost reminds me of Little My from the Moomins with her little gremlin energy. I don't know if we'll get any serious moments with her like we have with the other characters, but I guess we'll see.

I love how Alastor's room is a literal bayou/swamp. And him eating the whole fucking deer was hilarious.

I didn't expect for some of the others to find out about Angel and Val's toxic relationship so quickly, but I did like how it showed an uncommon angle: how trying to save someone from an abusive relationship can make things worse for the victim. I can't think of any other media off the top of my head that shows that kind of thing. But with Charlie and Husker knowing about this (and Cherri Bomb if we're counting Addict as canon), how long before everyone else finds out? And what are their reactions going to be?

I haven't been the biggest Angel/Husker shipper, but holy hell, am I on board now. Husker once being an overlord and pretty much implying that he sold his soul to Alastor much like how Angel did with Val was a development I didn't expect, as well as drawing parallels between his addiction to gambling and Angel's addiction to drugs. Hell, I really didn't except this angle they took with Husker. We only saw his bitter attitude in the pilot, and we still get plenty of that here, but I didn't expect him to also be a good people reader and being able to see how the other characters really are and what they're hiding. He's almost empathetic in a way.

All of the songs are fucking bangers, Poison especially. I listened to it once before the show and I liked it okay, but seeing it in context, it hits you ten times harder. I almost cried.

The show is so good at making the viewer feel so uncomfortable with how Val treats Angel, it's almost too hard to watch. I've seen shows tackle abuse before and they've done it well, but this was very raw and in your face and it makes your insides twist. And I love it.

Looking at the show's cast, Vivzi got so many people with Broadway experience and I love that. I feel like a lot of popular media nowadays just like to cast popular actors regardless of whether they can actually sing or not (I'm looking at you live action Disney remakes). But every actor who's sung so far is fucking good at it and it shows.

So far, I am in love, love, love with this show. I remember first watching the pilot when it was causing some controversy and I fell in love with it immediately. It almost became a comfort thing for me for a while. I was watching it over and over during 2020 when Covid was running rampant and everything was shit. I'm so proud of Vivzie and everyone else for their hard work and dedication and love. This show is so different from everything else out there. I hope now that it's out, even more people can fall in love with it.

#spoilers #carmilla #zestial #vaggie #alastor #vox #sir pentious #nifty #angel dust #valentino #charlie morningstar #husker #cherri bomb #vivziepop #hazbin hotel

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katelynnwrites · 1 month

Text

Wondering If I Dodged A Bullet (Or Just Lost The Love Of My Life) | Laura Freigang

warnings: angst and my round and round in circles writing

word count: 2897

summary: laura leaves penn state for frankfurt, another way to put it would be that you and your girlfriend break up because she leaves penn state for frankfurt

a/n: i struggled so hard to complete this and it ended up being far from my best work but it is what it is 🙃

You are eighteen years old when your world changes forever.

It happens in the form of a blonde striker named Laura.

Her eyes captivate you the second you meet them. They’re the same colour as the ocean on a stormy day and possess the same ever shifting qualities.

She’s all confidence on the pitch and yet oh so shy when off it.

When your college coach introduces you to her, you know it is inevitable that you fall for her.

You have all your lucky stars to thank that she falls for you too.

******

It is one month into your relationship with Laura that you learn she loves back scratches.

You discover it entirely by accident, having mindlessly run your fingers across her shirt covered back while she was studying.

The happy sigh she let out had been a soft one but you’d picked up on it immediately.

It’s still early in your relationship but Laura has always been open about her body to you so it’s only with mild hesitation that you tentatively slide your hand up under her shirt, to gently scratch your nails on her bare skin.

The German girl groans immediately. It’s a sound of contentment and you adore the way she melts onto your bed.

She’d come over to study and you suspect, to complain about her upcoming psychology test.

Your girlfriend is awfully smart, being more than capable of keeping up her grades while still being a regular starter for your football team

You suppose that attaining a sports scholarship to study in Penn State should have given you an idea of just how driven she can be.

Laura’s a year older and thus, a year ahead of you. She has way more course material than you and her compromise for making sure she is able to finish her work and still spend time with you, is doing her work in your room. Often with her head in your lap.

You giggle at her protests the moment you stop giving her back scratches.

‘Schatz please don’t stop.’ She begs.

Her ocean coloured eyes have this beseeching look in them, the one that you are never able to refuse.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ You laugh, resuming your previous actions, much to the blonde’s delight.

******

One hundred and twenty one days into dating Laura, you learn that there is nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

Your girlfriend is a big all or nothing individual, that particular characteristic drawing you to her in the first place.

The German forward gives everything she has on the pitch, absolutely one hundred percent of herself regardless of the minute or the opponent.

It just didn’t occur to you that she would bring that into your relationship.

From using the little stove in the dormitory kitchen to make your favourite breakfast on game days, to carrying your bag for you after trainings, Laura is simply committed to you.

You don’t know how else to put it.

She is just an anything for my person kind of girl.

You’re beyond grateful to be her person.

The striker is stepping up her game now, video calling you from her hotel room in Germany, just so she can wish you good morning.

There is a significant time difference between Pennsylvania and Frankfurt but your girlfriend makes it work.

The blonde sets an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night, just to call you for a few minutes right when she knows you will be getting up for your classes.

‘Good morning schatz.’ She whispers, taking in the early morning sun that is lighting up your room when you pick up her call.

‘I’d say good morning too but I think wishing you goodnight makes more sense.’ You tease.

Your girlfriend giggles, ‘I’ll take anything you want to wish me. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.’

You’re glad for the poor lighting because Laura’s words make your cheeks turn a bright red.

‘Lau? You did not have to wake up just to say good morning to me. Rest is important for you.’

‘I know. But I wanted to.’ She says softly, adoration filling her voice.

‘Lau?’ You ask again, staring hard at your phone screen to make her out in her hotel room.

It is dark but you manage to, the weak glow of her own phone screen helping you do so.

She is tucked into her sheets, messy blonde hair strewn all over her pillow as she giggles, ‘Yes schatz?’

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too.’ She breathes, a small smile playing on her lips.

Every time Germany has a training camp for their youth teams, Laura flies back to her home country to participate.

Each time, you miss her more.

Her absence is sorely felt and you’ve taken to dropping her off and picking her up at the airport just so you don’t have to miss her any longer than you have to.

‘I’ll see you at the airport in two days?’

‘Count on it.’ You promise and you blow each other a kiss before hanging up.

******

Six months into your relationship with the German player is when you find out that she has a penchant for stealing your clothes.

You have been wondering where certain items of your clothing have disappeared to and unbeknown to you, Laura has been hiding them away in her room.

Hoarding might actually be a more accurate term.

Despite how clingy you can be to your girlfriend and she to you, you don’t spend every night together.

When you do, it’s nearly always in your room because your bed is slightly bigger than hers.

It is a sore point with the blonde and she often jokingly complains that it is unfair of Penn State to give their star forward such a small bed.

Today is one of the few times you are in her room and the first time you are alone in it.

Laura’s late in meeting you and you know your girlfriend well enough to be sure that it’s because she has got a bunch of questions for her lecturer.

So you had used the spare key she had given you when you were just friends, before you’d even started dating, to let yourself into her room because standing outside it alone had been too awkward. You know she won’t mind anyway.

Tired from the day’s early morning practice, you flop down on her bed and dump your bag down at the side of it.

You absentmindedly shift her pillow to get more comfortable, only to find something beside it.

As you stare at the piece of clothing, you realise that it’s one of your missing shirts.

Lying back down, you find another of your missing shirts tucked under the other side of her pillow.

You are very confused now, beginning to wonder if you have been forgetful enough to leave not just one but two of your shirts behind, the last time you stayed over in her dorm room.

But if you were, then why hasn’t the blonde returned the shirts to you? Or said anything?

Thankfully, you hear Laura’s key in the door so you don’t have to worry about it for long.

‘Hey schatz.’ She greets cheerfully, flinging her bag onto the floor carelessly and sprawling herself on top of you.

‘Lau!’ You exclaim and she laughs.

Her hands cup your face gently and she presses a brief kiss onto your lips.

‘Hi.’ You giggle, after readily reciprocating her affectionate gesture.

‘Hi.’ She breathes.

Your girlfriend buries her face into the side of your neck, leaving more intimate kisses there.

You groan at the touch of her lips on your skin. It gives you butterflies inside but you can’t let it distract you now.

‘Laura…Laura?’

She makes a questioning noise but doesn’t slow.

‘Why have you got my shirts in your bed? Did I leave them here?’

The German girl freezes.

‘Lau?’ You prompt, reaching out to hold her hand reassuringly.

Her cheeks are rapidly turning a bright pink and she stammers, ‘I-I didn’t mean for you to find out about that…you’re going to think I’m so silly.’

You plant a little kiss on her forehead and gently tease, ‘I already think you’re silly, in the best of ways.’

Laura smiles and then shyly admits, ‘You didn’t leave them here. I kinda stole them from you because I love sleeping with your familiar smell. You always smell so good and something about it just calms me down.’

You stare at her in stunned silence.

Long enough that Laura begins to look uncertain.

Then you blurt out, ‘I love you.’

Your girlfriend lets out a small gasp, her pretty eyes shining as she whispers, ‘I love you too.’

It’s the first ‘I love you’ for the both of you and you cannot put into words how much it means.

Laura seems to be thinking along the same lines because she traces your cheekbone lightly, the action filled with adoration.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ She murmurs, in between peppering your face with kisses.

‘Love you too Laura. So much, even if you do keep stealing my shirts.’

The blonde smiles and confesses, ‘Can’t help it. I bring a bunch with me to every national camp too.’

Before meeting the German girl, you didn’t know it was possible to feel this strongly for anyone.

But as it is with Laura, you discover so many firsts.

You hope that you discover many lasts too because you want what you have with her to be forever.

Fervently, you hope that Laura Freigang is the girl you have your last first kiss with.

******

Forty five weeks of dating Laura and you decide that she is the love of your life.

Maybe it’s the good morning and good night kisses, or the way she so obviously cherishes every moment she has with you. It could even be the way she smiles.

The corners of her lips tip upwards and her eyes light up each and every time she does so.

Your girlfriend’s brother says that Laura’s smile is different when it is directed at you. He claims that it is special and you are inclined to agree.

Laura herself is special to you. Boundlessly so.

She has a new found habit of sliding her hand up and under your shirt whenever you fall asleep together.

The blonde striker craves skin to skin contact with you, loves the peace it gives her.

After your girlfriend admits why she keeps your shirts beside her pillow, you offer her a better solution.

Instead of your shirts, she can have you.

Laura takes you up on that immediately and her assigned dorm room practically becomes a storage room for her belongings.

She is always in your room because she spends every night there now.

It’s one of her favourite things to curl up beside you and rhythmically match her breaths to yours.

You are warm and oh so real, unlike the often cold material of your shirts.

The German girl can be possessive and it shows in how she holds you close, even as she sleeps.

Laura presses you into her, her palm resting flat on your back and you love it.

It has you feeling safe and wanted, two things that your girlfriend has never failed to make you feel.

You know that you are right, she is the love of your life.

******

Three hundred and sixty five days of being Laura’s and Laura being yours is when she gives you a necklace for your anniversary.

It is a simple piece of jewellery, a small heart shaped locket hanging on a delicate silver chain.

‘Do you like it?’ She anxiously asks, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

Admiring the gift, you breathe, ‘I love it.’

Gently, you kiss her to convey just how grateful you are. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her hands cupping your face instinctively.

When you pull away, you softly speak, ‘Thank you schatz. Will you help me put it on please?’

The striker grins brightly, ‘Of course.’

She makes quick work of clasping it around your neck as you hold your hair up.

Glancing at the mirror, you play with the locket and Laura prompts, ‘Open it.’

You feel a tiny latch you hadn’t noticed earlier just as she says so.

The locket opens when you press down on it and you gasp as you see the photo of your girlfriend sharing a kiss with you in it.

You pull Laura into a different kiss, deepening it to show her just how much you love her present.

‘Love you. Love you. Love you.’ You murmur, in between the kisses you keep pressing onto her lips.

Laura lets out a pleased sigh, intertwining her fingers with yours and promising, ‘I love you too.’

You squeeze her hand in yours but can’t take your eyes off the locket.

‘Schatz, this is really beautiful.’

Your girlfriend cheekily but honestly admits, ‘Like you.’

Then she laughs at the blush that rapidly appears on your cheeks, affectionately brushing her lips across your forehead.

******

Laura’s locket never leaves its place, around your neck.

Not even when you are nineteen and the blonde, twenty, the two of you unsure where your relationship is going.

The striker has got an offer from 1. FFC Frankfurt and she knows that taking it will be the best move for her career. You know it too.

It is just your fear of what happens now that makes you anxious.

You love your girlfriend, adore her so. She’s only been yours for slightly more than a year but she is the love of your life. You don’t know what you would do without her.

Your day starts with Laura’s good morning kisses, you eat breakfast together, walk each other to classes when able to, study together, go for training sessions with one another and share goodnight kisses when it is time to sleep.

For a lack of a better way to put it, you do not remember how to live your life without her. You don’t you if you can and that may be codependent of you but it is the truth.

From the way the blonde is fidgeting with her rings, you know the feeling is mutual.

‘I-I don’t want to leave you.’ She quietly admits.

‘I know.’

‘I love you.’

‘I know. And I love you too but you have to do this schatz.’

Laura’s voice is pained when she echoes your earlier words, ‘I know.’

Touching your necklace carefully, you begin to unlatch it.

The German girl inhales sharply.

‘Don’t.’

Her ocean coloured eyes are welling with tears when she covers your hands with hers.

‘Keep it. I gave it to you. It’s yours. Please, it’s meant for you.’

‘But Lau-’

Her words are fierce as she insists, ‘No! We’re not over, you and I.’

Your smile is wistful and cautious when you look up at her.

‘Laura you don’t know that. You don’t know if any club will want to take me, let alone one in Germany. The chances of me ending up in Frankfurt with you are slim if at all possible.’

The forward’s frown intensifies, ‘Don’t say that. You don’t know that.’

As much as you want it not to be, your tone is one of resignation, ‘Schatz…’

Your dorm room feels stifling in a way it never has before and even though Laura is sitting right beside you, on your bed, she feels so far away that she might as well already be in Frankfurt.

The blonde is staring at you speechlessly and you take her hand in yours.

Holding her hand is familiar and an intimate gesture…one that you know you will not have for much longer.

‘I love you. No matter how much time passes, part of me is always going to love you. But you need to stop thinking about me. About us…and move on. You are going to do so good with Frankfurt. You are brilliant Lau, please show them exactly how talented you are.’

Your words are barely audible but you mean it. You have never meant anything more. It’s with your whole heart, your breaking heart, that you tell them to the German girl.

Laura’s tears are spilling down her cheeks and she is shaking slightly when you break your heart for good with the next two sentences out of your mouth.

‘I’m your biggest fan. That’s never going to change, it will just have to be from a distance now.’

******

Maybe it was stupid of you to let the love of your life go. But you needed to, needed to learn how to live on your own and let her be a star, halfway around the world.

In a way, you dodge a bullet too because as painful as it is, you learn. Without the striker leaving, you never would have learnt.

And for Laura who has been looking sad in all the nicest places and wanting to call your name until you come back home, it pays off.

Because some years later, as crazy as it is, you are in a German cab and telling the driver where the blonde’s place is.

You’re on your way back home to her, with her locket still around your neck.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

#laura freigang #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso #dfb frauen #gerwnt #eintracht frankfurt frauen #katelynnwrites

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redr0sewrites · 5 days

Text

ATSV Characters with a Goth S/o

heeeeeyyyyyy guys 😇 *slowly sliding the 100+ REQUESTS in my inbox to the side to make room for a new special interest*

🥀Cw: none, mostly fluff!!!

🥀Pairing(s): Hobie x reader, Miles x reader, Miguel x reader, Spot x reader

Hobie

he would LOVE any type of alternative partner tbh- he just LOOOVESSS that ur goth and will support you 100%

people who go against societies expectations/standards and don't fit in with the norm intrigue him, and your style is probably what piqued his interest in the first place

y'all definitely wear matching fits sorry i don't make the rules- hobie just can't pass up the opportunity to match w you!!! whenever you go to meetings within the spider society he always brings you along, regardless of whether or not you're a spiderperson and hobie loves showing off you and your style

MAJOR "THATS MY PARTNER‼️" VIBES

look me in the eyes and tell me hobia would not absolutely rock some funky eyeliner LIKEEEEE- he def lets you practice on him and will do your makeup for you too!!!

hobie loves thrifting with you, there is no way he isn't a major thrifter and you both definitely DIY a lot of your clothes

HE MAKES YOU GUYS MATCHING PUNK BATTLE VESTS FOR YOUR ANNIVERSARY, AND MAKES SURE THAT IT MATCHES UR AESTHETIC AS WELL!!

hobie absolutely has BLESSED music taste, but while he usually listens to rock, punk, dad rock, or post-punk type of music, i def see him enjoying more gothic/new wave music- especially if u introduce it to him!!!

i see him enjoying bauhaus, sisters or mercy, scary bitches, etc- he'll also give YOU a lot of music recommendations and help to expand ur taste!

hobie would also accompany you to any protests or conventions that you wanted to attend, and would act as your scary dog privileges

YOU TWO DEFINITELY GO TO CONCERTS TOGETHER OMG. I TOTALLY SEE THAT AS A SPONTANEOUS DATE THAT YOU TWO ENJOY A LOT

honestly hobie is a lovely partner to have if you are goth, and he's not only supportive but VERY enthusiastic about your fashion and lifestyle!

Miles

hes such a sweetheart!!! he definitely supports you if you're goth and asks a LOOOT of questions lmao

miles draws you and your fashion a lot, and will def design makeup or eyeliner ideas for you too!!! while ik this is more associated with punk, i also see miles drawing you a few custom patches and stuff like that

your kind of like his muse in a way, and miles just really enjoys sketching you, especially since you have such a unique aesthetic and such cool outfits

HE HAS DEFINITELY GRAFFITIED U SOMEWHERE‼️

he loves watching you get ready and do your makeup. seeing you do perfect eyeliner wings and heavy makeup in general lowkey relaxes him, and he just loves admiring you

im sorry but miles knows absolutely nothing about goth music or culture, ur gonna have to introduce him to a lot of the songs/bands!!!

while i don't think he's huge on the music at first, i think it would grow on him over time. its definitely the type of thing that he loves because YOU love it, and he sees how mu much you enjoy it so he starts listening to it as well so he can talk to you about it

i think his favorite band would be the cure, and his fav songs would either be boys dont cry or the walk (both by the cure- idk why thats so specific but they just kinda fit his vibe yk?)

miles likes holding hands a lot, and he loves when you wear rings or gloves or something along those lines because it just reminds him so much of you! your hands just feel different compared to other peoples and he just loves how unique you are

if you have a lot of piercings, miles would definitely ask about them or buy you specific jewelry for piercings!!!!

overall, very very cute and supportive about your style!!! (he lowkey gives bi wife energy, and iyk what in talking ab then ily mwah)

Miguel

he's pretty indifferent to your style at first, i don't see him as the type to judge much based on appearances. its your personality that really throws him for a loop, and a part of him admires your dedication to making yourself look how you want to look and truly living to be your best self, regardless of what others think

if you think miles knows nothing about being goth then be prepared for miguel bc he knows NOTHINGGGG- no music, no history, no political views, zero, zilch, nada, goose egg

if he cares about you i do see him being intrigued about your style, and once you two are officially dating is when he'll show more interest in your personal fashion sense

he strikes me as the type to like, NEVER listen to music, so he literally only listens to the music you like!!! he does find himself occasionally humming the tune of some strawberry switchblade song or casually listening to a siouxsie and the banshees song while he works, and over time you influence him a LOT with your music taste. he definitely associates any and all goth music with YOU, and that's probably why he starts enjoying it.

he's a "hand on you at all times" type of guy, and while he is rarely touchy with others, miguel is definitely keeping you close. your fashion makes that convenient for him, and he loves pulling you into a kiss by grabbing onto your belt loop or something of the sort

miguel loves how you look with and without makeup on and isn't afraid to tell you that, however, he really likes it if you incorporate his colors or color scheme into your makeup one day. he'll never admit it, but you keep catching him admiring you with the smallest smirk on his face every few seconds

if anyone ever gave u shit for what you wear and how you dress, especially someone in the spider society, you'd practically have to restrain miguel from drop kicking them across nueva york- he doesn't want anyone to be rude to you , and while he knows you can stand up for yourself, he just gets protective at times

Spot

goth? whats that???

he's lowkey such a nerd, and spends too much time being science-y and planning on how to beat spiderman to actually get caught up on fashion

spot doesn't know how he pulled you tbh, but he appreciates you nonetheless!!! he thinks you and your aesthetic are something to be admired, and will unabashedly tell EVERYONE he knows about you

he will shoplift any clothing or jewelry that you want, and he'll even take you to other dimensions where there are better alternative clothes as well

spot doesn't really have a face to do makeup on, but he'll offer to do yours for you! surprisingly enough he's pretty good at it, though he does work pretty slowly

spot loves fiddling with your accessories, whenever he's standing near you he's always reaching out to touch you in some way shape or form. he loves playing with any chains or necklaces you wear, and will help adjust them so that they lay correctly

he helps you get ready in the morning!!!!! if ur the type of goth to wear corsets, he makes lacing them up SO easy and will gladly do it for you

i personally hc that spot HATES seeing himself in mirrors/pictures, it reminds him sm of what he used to look like, but he LOVES taking photos of you and your style!! whenever you are wearing a cute outfit or have funky makeup on, spot adores just taking photos of you

if you ever did a makeup look inspired by him and his spots he would probably CRY :(

URGRHHRHHRRR I LOVE ATSV SMMMMMMM!!!! this post will DEFINITELY have a pt2 w more characters!!!!! i swear tho atsv literally pulled me out of the most horrendous burnout ever i FELT the artblock and writing block lift off of my body as i watched it. IM SO INVESTED I MADE A SPIDERSONA...

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fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

The Things We Do For Love

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife ask for Anthony's help to conceive a child.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, MMF threesome, fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, no incest. Married couple, infertility, conception, childbirth. Angst & emotion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Authors Note: This is a fic request fill for @broooookiecrisp from this ask (in essence, Benedict and his wife turn to Anthony for help to conceive a child). Thank you to @colettebronte and @makaylan for their invaluable advice and betaing. This is very different to my usual threesomes. This is much more angsty and emotional, but there is a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy <3

“Don’t worry, darling,” he soothes as you tear up, “it will happen for us one day.”

Despite his words, you stare at the bloody rag and feel nothing but failure.

More than anything, you want to give him children. Perhaps not a brood to rival his prestigious family, but a few children would be nice—two, maybe three. And you, more than anything, want to be a mother. To nurture life, be surrounded by children's laughter, and bring wonderful, new humans into the world.

But six months into your marriage, despite frequent, wonderful, vigorous, and enjoyable attempts, every month, your courses have arrived like clockwork, and every time, you feel you are letting him down.

“Please don’t cry,” his sweet, comforting voice almost pained; his lips mashed into your temple as he gently rocks you. “I love you regardless of if we can ever have a family. I need you to know that,” his voice sincere, maybe a little desperate.

“I know that, Benedict; I love you too; I just….” you say between muted sobs, “…I just want to give you a family like yours.”

“Darling, for all we know, it is I who is at fault, not you. In fact, we would never know unless…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but his mien turns thoughtful.

“Unless what?” you prompt, lifting your head to look at him intently.

“Unless you attempt to get pregnant via another man,” he sighs, his face pinched.

“No!! No!!” bile rises in your throat at merely the idea of being with anyone but him. He is the only man you have ever known intimately, the only one you trust. “I can’t do this with anyone but you, Benedict,” you plead.

“And believe me, my darling, the thought of you with anyone else makes me nauseated, but this may be our only choice to find out. And perhaps actually have a baby we can raise as our own,” he points out.

He’s right, and you hate it. You would do anything to let him be the father he so obviously yearns to be. And if that means you have to lay with another man, for him, and only him, you will make yourself do it if that is what he wants. It will hurt your heart beyond belief, but you want him to be a father as much as you wish to be a mother. The problem is that the only man whose babies you want is the one asking you to take another man’s seed.

You draw your knees up on lean on them, sobbing bitterly. Benedict kisses your temple and hugs you as you cry it all out.

——

Benedict hovers nervously outside Anthony’s study at Bridgerton House, having no clue how to broach the topic he wants to discuss. But after weeks of consideration, it’s the only way forward he can see that doesn’t turn his stomach.

“Brother, will you be lurking all day or just for a half-hour?” comes the dry, bemused voice from behind the door.

Benedict stops pacing, closes his eyes briefly, and then, with a decisive nod, heads into the room.

“There is a sensitive matter I would like to discuss with you if you are amenable?” he begins, too nervous to sit in the seat Anthony gestures to. “I’ll stand if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever can it be? You seem quite the bag of nerves,” Anthony observes wryly, leaning back casually in his chair behind the desk.

“It’s regarding children,” Benedict begins slowly and carefully.

“Ah, right, family and intimate matters,” Anthony gets up and closes his office door. He stays standing as Benedict rocks on his feet, and Anthony looks at him expectantly.

There is nothing else but to dive in headfirst. Benedict steels himself for this tough ask and then begins.

“Despite our best efforts, my wife and I are… struggling to become pregnant,” he exhales.

“I am sorry to hear that, but I think a doctor may be a better confidante than myself,” Anthony argues, “should your wife need examining….”

“Well, that’s the thing; I’m not so certain she is at fault,” Benedict counters.

Anthony scoffs. “You are a Bridgerton. If there is one thing we are capable of, it’s progeny,” he laughs, pointing at the row of miniatures of their siblings.

“Well, maybe I am the exception that proves the rule,” Benedict replies quietly and seeing the pain written in the lines of his face, Anthony’s whole demeanour changes.

“I did not mean to make light of your challenges, brother,” Anthony states slowly, “merely that the balance of probability it is not your fault is quite high.”

“Well, there is only one way I can think of to confirm that suspicion,” Benedict answers, “and that is for another man to attempt to impregnate my wife.”

Anthony's shocked expression is a picture. “You wish for your wife to lay with another man?” the contempt in his voice unmaskable.

“Wish it?” Benedict scorns. “I wish anything but. It is the very definition of my nightmare, but… she deserves the world, and If I am at fault, I could never forgive myself if I do not explore all avenues to fulfil her dreams. To make her happy. If I cannot give her children, I will not begrudge her the happiness of motherhood she so desperately craves.”

Anthony is floored by the self-sacrifice his little brother will always make for those he loves.

“And this brings me to my proposal….” Benedict adds warily.

Anthony senses the nerves emanating in waves off him and clamps a reassuring hand onto his shoulder.

“What is it, brother?”

“Selfish as it may sound, I want any child I raise as my own to be a Bridgerton. And there is only one man I would allow to lay with my wife without my stomach turning…. and that dear brother,” he takes a deep breath and meets Anthony’s eye squarely, “is you.”

Anthony freezes and falls back into a nearby chair. Literally stunned.

“I.. “ he begins but can not find more words.

“I'm aware this is a huge ask,” Benedict rushes out, “but I can't think of another palatable solution to my wife's happiness, and, more than anything, I want to give her that. Happiness.”

Anthony can see the quiver in his brother's lip, and his heart breaks for him at this impossible impasse.

“Brother, I’m not sure I can do this,” Anthony wavers honestly, standing up again and beginning to pace.

“Please,” Benedict implores, “please at least consider it. I will sign any private sealed paperwork you wish, ensuring that should she become pregnant, the child has no rights to your title or estates….”

“It’s not that,” Anthony cuts in, frowning that would even be a consideration, “it’s just… Benedict, it’s your brother bedding your wife. This choice seems fraught with potential anguish.”

“It seems unlikely to me at least that two men in the same family would be similarly afflicted, coming as we do from a man capable of siring eight children. If you do not impregnate her, then maybe we will know it is not me at fault,” Benedict argues, appealing to Anthony's logical side that he knows will often win in an emotional moment.

Anthony stops pacing and instead shuffles a pile of perfectly neat paper, nerves manifesting in the need to keep himself busy in the motions of a pointless task. “Allow me to think on it.”

Benedict gives a short sharp nod and, with nothing else he can think to say, takes his leave.

——

His fingers trail gently over your stomach as you lay in post-coital bliss.

“Darling, I have an idea for our baby dilemma,” he offers softly, tracing his lips over your collarbone.

“Mmm, I'm all ears, husband,” you reply drowsily, your ankles twining with his, your fingers running into his thick, lush hair.

Tonight he took you somewhere truly primal, and it feels different. Like it's possible you are actually pregnant this time. That something so fundamental happened in your moment of pure blissful release that, indeed, life was created.

“There is one way to ensure we have a Bridgerton child,” he begins quietly, his warm breath dusting over your dewy skin. “And that is for you to lay with my brother, Anthony.”

The world stops. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and a weird static buzz in every bone of your face. Like you have been struck by lightning.

No, No, NO, Benedict, your mind wails. Literally anyone but him, dear god.

Unbeknownst to your husband, there is only one man you had ever considered before you met him. And that is his older brother—Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. You harboured a flame for him upon your first visit to Aubrey Hall with your family when you were fifteen, and that really only abated a few years later when you met his wonderful, soulful younger brother who utterly stole your heart.

“Benedict…” you sigh, going to move away, but he holds you in place, staring deep into your eyes, running his hands over your jaw, your cheeks.

“Think about it, my love,” he cuts in. “He is someone I trust with my life. He will not attempt to blackmail us or steal you away from me,” he petitions. “And we look so alike, my brother and me; no one would bat an eyelid about the child’s appearance, should you conceive one. It is the perfect solution,” he looks at you so beseechingly that you almost feel like you are betraying him just by wanting to object. And so you can’t, you don't. You will never deny him the right to fatherhood he so obviously deserves. If that means playing with the fire of your attraction to his brother, you will do it.

You grab his hand and lace your fingers with his. “My love, if this is what you want. I consent,” you murmur as your insides riot at the idea of lying with his brother. “But I have conditions.” you swallow thickly.

“What are they? Anything, my love,” he says pleadingly. “I will do anything for you; you know that,” he asserts as he kisses a fervent line over your cheek to your lips.

“I cannot do this without you,” you answer meekly. “I need you there the whole time. Not just in the room, I need you with me, skin on skin; I need you to hold me when it is happening, to talk to me.”

He inhales sharply. “You wish to lay with both of us? At the same time?”

“Yes, Benedict, my love. I cannot give my body to another man unless you are right there with me. Please, please.”

“I… I….” he stumbles, “I will have to check with him, but if that is what you need, what you desire, I will, of course, be there, my love.”

“Will you fuck me too?” your use of the base, crude term somehow feels necessary in this context.

You see the vein in his neck jump, and his voice turns gravelly. “You want that?”

“Yes, husband. Once he has been with me, I want you to be with me too.” you push up and kiss him deeply, trying to transmit just how much you love him, that for you, how much all of this is for him, for his happiness.

“Alright, my love,” he appeases with delicate kisses, “of course, of course….”

——

When Benedict rises the following day, his valet hands him a hand-delivered note. It is from Bridgerton House, and inside the wax-sealed envelope, on Anthony's signature note paper, there, in neat-looking penmanship, is just one word.

Yes.

Benedict drops the card onto his desk and rubs his temples, uncertain if he should feel elated or empty.

——

The fateful night arrives sooner than you would like, but equally, the weight of anticipation felt like almost too much to bear in the lead-up. You fidget nervously with your silk robe, which all at once feels too heavy and not thick enough, your skin prickling with the uncertainty of what is to pass.

You stay in the bedroom, brushing your hair at your vanity with repetitive calming motions as Benedict greets Anthony and invites him into your home. In advance, you and Benedict had agreed a few strong brandies would likely assist both men before embarking on this journey; you declined to imbibe in the hope it would aid with conception. So you sit nervously awaiting as they partake downstairs in your drawing room, no doubt.

For some reason, you prefer not to see Anthony before the ‘act’ begins; it feels too much like danger knowing what will happen, the ghost of your past attraction like a potential unwanted spectre taunting you. It feels safer to keep your distance until, well, until you cannot.

You get onto the bed and attempt to read, but your butterflies mean you are staring at the same page for minutes at a time, words just a jumble of letters that bleed into each other, your mind too preoccupied. Just as you start to fret about whether you can do this, you hear voices and a pair of heavy boots ascending the stairs.

Then there in the doorway are your husband and his brother, looking at you with the same expression you give them. Nervous apprehension, but theirs mellowed by alcohol.

“Darling,” Benedict drawls as they walk in, and he closes the door, “how are you?”

“I am fine,” you assure with a quick, tight smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. The butterflies are truly rioting now.

Your gaze falls to Anthony, who flashes you a brusque smile before he peels off his jacket and rapidly moves onto his boots. It seems almost business-like, and there is a hot flare in your stomach. Benedict is already more casual, barefoot, just his white shirt and trousers; it's like he senses your spike of anxiety and is on the bed with you in the blink of an eye.

“It's okay, my darling,” he mollifies, pushing you gently down into the pillows, his breath sweetened by brandy and smoky from cigars, “I’m here, my love, I’m here.”

His kiss is gentle and pitched to reassure, his lips soft on yours, intuiting the need to settle your fears. It works, and as you always do, you find yourself melting into your husband's loving embrace and attention. His hands run delicate patterns over your thin robe.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, a soft smile on his lips as he moves to kiss down your throat, his lips warm and plush as his words vibrate over your skin. He goes to untie your robe, but you halt his hand, covering it with your own.

“Please, Benedict, I need you naked before I am,” you plead quietly.

He lifts his head and meets your imploring gaze, nodding slightly, understanding your reasons without you needing to vocalise them. It's part of why you love him so much, this shorthand you have developed, this unspoken bond. You can't help the little flutter in your chest as he whips off his shirt and settles over you, so much body warmth seeping through your robe from his skin. As he kisses the cord of your neck, you sigh and allow your hands to wander, loving the feel of his toned flesh under your fingertips.

With him over and surrounding you, he is your whole field of vision, perhaps by design to centre your focus on him. In the background, you can hear the sounds of Anthony disrobing, but Benedict utters soft, reassuring words against your skin to drown out the sound. His warm lips feathering down over your collarbone, skirting the edge of your robe. As ever, his tender treatment makes you stir, and you feel your body become pliant under him, allowing him to ease between your legs, your robe falling open as his wool trousers tickle the inside of your knees.

“My darling, you smell wonderful. Did you bathe in your favourite magnolia petal soap?” his voice buzzes over your breastbone as he breathes deeply and smiles indulgently as you hum in the affirmative. “Your skin is so soft; I am such a lucky man.” you know he is being extra vocal and reassuring with his words and actions; it makes your heart melt a fraction. He wants you comfortable and aroused. He wants this to be pleasant for you. You would never have the heart to tell him his efforts are not perhaps as needed as he believes.

You cannot look at Anthony to this day without a tiny stab of desire, perhaps remnants of a theoretical scenario where he could have been your intended, at least in your mind. Or it could be that he is an objectively handsome man. Either way, the thought of laying with him is not abhorrent on a physical level; in fact, the genuine possibility of the opposite stokes the blaze of nerves in your belly—that you could enjoy it a little too much.

You reach down and begin unbuttoning Benedict's trousers, wanting, needing more, as he continues languid kisses on your exposed skin. This time you do not object as his fingers insinuate between your bodies and tug at the ties holding your robe closed.

You inhale sharply as his naked body surges over yours as he kicks away his trousers. So much heat and warmth as your thighs cradle him. You can feel his rigid cock searing the apex of your thighs, and more than anything, you want him to push into your body.

As his lips close on your left nipple, you moan and cant up towards him; you sense something else happening in the room. You realise, without looking; you have an audience. Anthony’s gaze feels heavy on your skin; you know he is watching as his brother's tongue peaks out and lathes over your nipple, watches as he sucks the nub into his mouth, and you cry out. Somehow the audience makes this more hedonistic. You want to feel ashamed at the throbbing between your legs, yet…. you don't; you just feel a molten desire. The idea of being the sole focus of two of the most handsome men of the ton does not escape your mind.

Somehow you know without looking that Anthony has taken his cock in hand and is ogling your body, just as Benedict's hand slides between your legs and glides over your folds.

“Are you ready for us, my love?” he asks softly. Part of you wants to lie, to ask him to dive his face between your legs and suck your clit until you are writhing and panting, but you know tonight is not about pleasure; it's a means to an end. And besides, he would know it's unnecessary as soon as his fingers slide between your lips, which they now do, and he hisses at the pooled, slick viscous heat he finds within. “Oh, darling, you are more than ready, aren't you? You are positively weeping from your gorgeous little cunt.”

You moan again at his words, almost surprised he is willing to talk like this in front of his brother, but you suspect it’s because he knows how much it arouses you. And indeed, you hear a noise from Anthony as you writhe on Benedict's fingers, wishing more than anything for him to sink them into your body and massage that spot you love so very much that only his fingers can reach.

“Please, fuck me,” you exhale, and it's a dangerous elixir thrumming in your bloodstream when there is a duet of responding groans to your breathy plea.

“I will, darling, I will,” he promises with an aching urgency, propelling one of his fingers into you and you crying out his name.

His fingertip massages that spot as his mouth is on your other breast, and you don't hide your enjoyment of what is happening. In truth, perhaps you are more performative, your whispered pleas just a little louder for Anthony’s benefit, your body flexing a little more pronounced; you almost want him to desire your body as much as your husband does. Sometimes playing with fire is such a beguilingly hypnotic idea.

“Make her climax, brother; I have heard it can help with conception,” Anthony’s smooth voice rings out, and you gasp, whipping your head to look at him for the first time since clothing was shed.

There’s a stab of what almost feels like betrayal as your eyes fall on Viscount Anthony Bridgerton—naked and imposing, standing as he does next to the bed. Unlike his brother, his chest is covered in a thatch of dark hair; his build is thicker and more muscular than your slightly taller, lither husband. Perhaps predictably, given their shared genetics, he is physically appealing too. You can tell by the motion of his arm he is stroking himself, but you daren't allow your eyes to wander lower than his taunt, defined abdomen, almost scared to see what lies between his legs. And yet curiosity wins out as he mounts the bed on all-fours, you glance down the plane of his torso and glimpse his cock nestling in a patch of dark hair, just like Benedict's, but it looks different. You can't deny that. A shade thicker, perhaps, just like their bodies. That you are comparing your husband's cock to his brothers fills you with a self-disdain you don't want to contemplate, so you quickly cut your eyes away. It matters not the pleasure he can provide during the act; what matters is the outcome: his seed, the hope of progeny.

“Here, let me help,” Anthony offers casually. And your breathing accelerates rapidly as suddenly he is next to you and his lips close around your other nipple, still wet with your husband's saliva.

A long, low curse slips from your mouth unsolicited as you experience the blinding pleasure of both nipples being sucked simultaneously.

Something burns white hot, not just desire but also shame. Shame that you want this so much. That your whole axis is thrown off by the equally talented tongue of Anthony Bridgerton swirling and sucking your nipple. But then he himself did just say female pleasure is paramount to conception. Who are you to deny yourself this pleasure if it is a means to the ultimate end? Your selfish, licentious side greedily courting all the attention they are willing to offer.

Benedict's finger curls more insistently inside you as a thumb lands on your clit, rubbing in an unfamiliar but alluring motion. It is not your husband’s. It does not have the same softness; there's a rasping quality to Anthony’s more pen-calloused skin that snags perfectly on your sensitive bud. Having the mouths and fingers of two Bridgerton brothers teasing you is overwhelming, but part of you feels overridden with guilt that you are deriving such pleasure from them both.

“It's alright, my love,” Benedict assures, sensing your emotional quandary, and it’s the license you need. Allow yourself to indulge in the sensation enough to be carried away by the sheer wonder of it all.

Within moments, a potent tide rips through your being as you writhe, surrounded by their bodies. Benedict surges up and captures your lips in a passionate, consuming kiss as you clench so hard on his finger and holler his name so loudly into his mouth. You don't dare speak his brother's name, but something makes your hand grasp Anthony's hair as he gently laps your breast.

Benedict eases himself from between your legs and arranges his body against your left flank as you calm. On instinct, still fuzzy from your orgasm, you turn your head towards him, seeking his lips for more kisses, sighing as he obliges, your nostrils filled with the scent of your own arousal on his damp fingers that cradle your jaw as his lips open gently with yours. His cock is branding your hip as he pulls your left leg towards him, opening you up, and your heartbeat spikes as you feel Anthony climb over your right leg and shuffle between your thighs.

“Benedict,” you gasp over his lips. He knows. He knows you are at your most vulnerable, and he clutches your face tight, keeps your gaze locked on his, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Shhh, my love,” he soothes, “you are doing so wonderful; you are my whole world; I love you so much,” his searing words pour into your soul as you feel Anthony’s body over yours.

Benedict holds your face, his grip almost vice-like, not letting you look away, to his brother, as arms band around your hips, and Anthony heaves you onto his thighs, your pelvis now higher than your head.

“Don't stop talking,” you plead into your husband's mouth as you feel the tip of Anthony’s cock at your entrance.

“I love you; I can't wait to raise a family with you, my darling,” he entreats. The mix of desire and hurt on his face breaks your heart as you cry out with the force of Anthony’s cock ploughing into you. It feels so different in a way you can't explain and want to weep, but you can't do that to your husband, hurt him like that. So you keep staring into his hazy eyes, breathing his exhaled air and familiar scent as Anthony starts to move inside you.

It feels so wondrous, your walls clinging to his thick veiny cock as you bite your lip to trap the sounds you want to make. There is no denying how utterly incredible Anthony feels inside you. He almost immediately hits a harsh snapping rhythm, making slight panting noises with the exertion. Benedict shuts his eyes and swallows heavily, and you know it's to school his emotions, yet you can't help but steal a glance up at his brother while he does so. Anthony looks so handsome and majestic, an errant curl of hair bouncing on his forehead as he throws his whole body into the thrusts. His skin glows dewy in the candlelight. His eyes meet yours, and a flame there startles so much that you swivel your eyes back to your husband’s as they reopen. Guilt makes you utter his name, each syllable rising and falling with the motion of your body as Anthony fucks you so hard.

“It's alright if you enjoy this, my darling,” Benedict affirms sotto voce, and it's like whiplash to your heart how giving this man is, how much he is sacrificing so you can have a family together. You know it must be eating him alive on some level to see the pleasure his brother is giving you.

“I only want to come if it's with you,” you whisper harshly.

“But you need to come, my darling; it will improve the chance of a baby,” he assuages.

You feel Anthony’s fingers at your clit, and you seize Benedict’s face. “Then talk to me, my love. Talk like it’s just us, say all those debauched things that make me burn so hot for you, just you,” you implore desperately.

Benedict growls and surges his rigid cock against your hip, leaking onto your dewy skin as his warm lips capture your cheekbone.

“I want you, my wife,” he intones through clenched teeth. “Every day, I want to strip you down and take you so hard.”

“Yesssssss,” you hiss, writhing on Anthony's cock, who groans and grips your hip bone hard. “More, please, more.”

Anthony’s fingers are a frenzy on your clit now as you keen loudly, urging him on; you unwittingly squeeze his muscular forearm.

“I know what makes you come so hard; only me, only I can do that. You are my wife, mine. Say it,” Benedict orders, his tone as desperate as yours, spying the way you have latched onto his brother, needing reassurance.

“I'm yours, Benedict, always, forever,” you cry, and it turns into a scream as Anthony starts to spear you so hard you want to see stars.

“I love you, my darling wife. You are going to be such a wonderful mother; I know how much you want that. To be a mother. To have a baby,” he murmurs, placing his forehead onto yours, “that is why we are doing this, my darling.”

"But Benedict, I only want your baby… Our baby…" you lament, raw with emotion, as you battle the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Anthony's cock makes your eyes roll back in your head, and Benedict's words take you over a soft edge, your blood boiling in your veins for your husband and his brother. Your scream muffled into his jaw as your cunt flutters hard around Anthony.

“Fuckkkking hell, I'm going to come,” Anthony warns, and for the first time, you look away from Benedict, uncaring that he sees.

“Give it to me,” you growl at Anthony, “give me your seed Bridgerton; I love my husband more than life itself; give us our baby right now!”

Both men seem equally shocked and aroused by your voracious demand.

“Darling…” Benedict pants raggedly on your cheekbone, his leaking cock pressing rhythmically against you again as you wrap your arm possessively around his head, fingers tugging no doubt painfully on his hair as you stare Anthony down, urging him to come.

There is a long guttural noise as Anthony stills. You feel the warmth of his release bloom inside you as he slumps over your body. His head on your damp diaphragm, puffing hard breaths over your ticklish skin as he keeps jerking and pumping little aftershocks into you.

The act over; as much as Anthony is an attractive man, all you want, crave, need, and desire is your husband with every fibre of your being. Like a siren calling across an ocean, he is the only place you want to be wrecked.

“Benedict, now, please, please, I need you,” you turn to him and cry.

You rasp lightly as Anthony pulls out and slumps back breathlessly against the footboard of your bed as you almost drag your husband on top of you. You chant a litany of pleas as he fumbles to line up with your fluttering body. And your eyes well with emotion as he finally surges into you. The stretch of his cock is different but so familiar, mind-bending and heart-stopping.

Your mouths mash together in a frenzy, and you cling to Benedict, pleading with him for more and harder, uncaring of the audience you have. You think he won't last long, but you don't care—you crave his release more than your own. You just want to revel in the carnality of your husband’s body and of what you have just permitted to happen for each other, for love. You steal a glance at Anthony over Benedict’s shoulder, and the soft, understanding look he gives you fills you with unspoken gratitude that he agreed to do this, to help you in this amazing way.

Benedict is not gentle, and you are grateful for it, conveying all of his passion for you with firm hands grasping your flesh, destined to leave imprints, teeth grazing your neck, thrusting into you with no mercy. You were mistaken, though - he does last. Keeps pounding into your body over and over and over as you make needy noises with each movement, climbing higher again.

“Come for me, husband, please; I need to feel it,” you beg, clasping his bum encouragingly, kissing every inch of skin you can reach, dragging your nipples over his chest, greedily pursuing your satisfaction as well as his.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands, sweat dripping from his forehead onto yours, his eyes burning into yours.

“I love you; you know I love you,” your response is a reflex. And that is what causes the dam to break for him, his whole body jerking violently, hissing and groaning loud against your ear as he spills inside you, fingers flexing, nails leaving moon-shaped marks on your shoulders where his arms curl under around them. The visceral feel of him coming apart, his body smashing against your clit takes you over too. Eyes fluttering closed as your body clenches in waves around his spasming cock.

And as you lay there sharing ragged breaths, Anthony’s warm hand encircles your ankle, and your eyes meet again in a moment of connection that feels warm and profound; you hope beyond hope a baby was conceived tonight.

——

Nine months later.

The birth of your baby is the most harrowing but rewarding day of your life. As you hear the infant’s first cry, your whole world crumbles and is rebuilt around her. Your precious, precious gift.

Benedict’s embrace is so tight as you cradle new life in your arms, scarcely believing the truth. Then a tiny set of eyes blink open, and your heart soars to heights you never dreamed possible.

“Benedict,” you breathe, joyful tears flowing unabashed, “look… she has… she has your eyes,” your whisper tremulant.

There, unmistakable as anything, is his baby. Not Anthony’s, not just a Bridgerton baby. His. Benedict’s.

“I don't think she can be anyone’s but yours, my love,” you assure ardently.

His fervent kiss on your dewy brow is only made wetter by the gentle tears that roll down his cheek and onto your skin.

“I love you,” he whispers reverently, his large hand wrapping delicately around your swaddled baby. “I love our daughter. We are finally a family.”

Benedict & Anthony Taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @queenofmean14

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venvellan · 9 months

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da2's arishok is a good villain. if you have a fundamental understanding of the qun and listen to his thought process, the things he does makes sense. he uses the qun to justify slaughtering kirkwall's people, which is utterly inexcusable and what makes him a villain, but his character is complex enough to make dealing with him that much more thought provoking. he sends agents to kill petrice because she was killing his people, he doesn't give up the elves because they committed their lives to the qun, no matter how recently they converted, and he refuses to leave without the tome (and isabela) because his idea of justice hasn't been done. his logic makes sense, generally, though it is wrong on more than one occasion. he isn't moral, but he is methodical.

i feel this way about solas, too. i like da2's arishok for the same reasons that initially draw people to solas, i think. when we meet them, i find them interesting and educational to talk to, someone worthy of respect, and someone very honorable in their own way. similarly, many of my issues with solas compare with flaws in the qun/the arishok.

solas asserts that all of his beliefs are correct, and we're never allowed to challenge him on any of it. if he has high enough approval, he'll approach you to go, "yknow, i thought you were all [insert prejudice or stereotype] but YOU showed me that some of you guys are actually okay," which is NOT what it looks like for someone's beliefs to be challenged.

brief aside, i want to be fair in that we don't get this opportunity with many of the companions, and it's not even an inquisition specific issue. the dialogue format is agree, joke, be mean, and it's flawed, but it works in the majority of interactions. we don't really get to engage in nuanced discussions with characters, but there are positives and negatives to the system overall. it is possible to challenge and shape a character within this dialogue system (i.e., garrus vakarian) but in dragon age that really only comes in the form of harden/unharden. it was a little more doable with origins' system, but it really hasn't been a huge part of any dragon age game. most characters' beliefs remain largely unchanged by you regardless of how you play.

solas also possesses a strong sense of duty and purpose, though what duty he has, what his true goals are, he keeps hidden as long as he can. the most damning comparison though, to me, is how willing he is to destroy the world and bring back "his people," while the qunari fight to conquer the world and homogenize society into "their people."

in any case, with both him and the arishok, you can see the wheels turning in their heads. you can see why they do what they do, even if it's wholly immoral. it makes their threat a lot more personal, a lot scarier, psychologically, that a "normal" person, who doesn't want to cause suffering, can hold such specific beliefs and such strong conviction that knowing that they'll hurt people doesn't give them any pause. the root of their motivation is understandable. solas wants to right his wrongs, at his core. the arishok implicitly believes that the qun is safer, better for its people than life outside the qun. we can see that they're taking it too far, but they don't care. it makes them good villains.

"i am not corypheus, i take no joy in this." sure, which is a very similar sentiment, emotionally, to the qunari sense of duty. you can say you don't enjoy it all you want, you're still committing genocide. you can hate the qunari all you want, but you fight with their ferocity, their unshakeable faith in their own cause. their need to "do what's right," no matter who's caught in the wake.

i understand why people like solas, i go back and forth on it myself, but i don't think he's all that different from the arishok in method and motivation. they're each thrust into a world so different from what they believe is "right" that they demand it change around them. if we had to kill the old arishok, then if solas refuses to give up, he will have to die. he doesn't get to do genocide just because he's romanceable. he's a good character, he's a good villain, but he's not a good guy, and unless he stops before he does any real harm (which he will not do), he should share the arishok's fate.

#ive had a hard time trying to put words to the way i feel about solas #but this does it #solas is a good character and quite likeable for lots of reasons #especially in inquisition's main story #but end of the day hes not a good fuckin dude #also please engage with this it took me like three hours #da discourse #cw: genocide #dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #da2 #dai #the arishok #solas #fen'harel

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wiltkingart · 2 months

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as another fruity tguy i really REALLY love the way u draw men so so much i see your work and i feel warm from head to toe cause you make trans men so beautiful. i can feel in every work that you love transmascs and being a tmasc and it comes thru in every paintstroke to me.

sorry to hijack with a big paragraph but last anon rly spoke to me and i wanted to share my experience if its ok

to last anon-- my journey is perhaps different from others but for me when i started T i also felt like it was the most important, life or death thing, but after spending time on T i found that even if the results werent as Manly as i was hoping for originally, i suddenly found myself in love with the simple fact that i had changed and my body had changed in a way that was on MY terms, even if it wasnt """perfectly passing"". since then ive found that not having T or having to lower my dosage was no longer painful or frightening.. im not sure how else to explain it other than At First, it felt like the testosterone was trying to fight Against the woman that Was my body, to sort of Transform it completely into this Man, but one day i just suddenly realized "oh. im not fighting anymore. and im actually pretty happy" and even tho i wasnt Perfectly masc by a long shot there was suddenly.. peace. i fell in love with my patchy body hair and my funny voice and my weird dick and then to my own suprise i found myself falling in love with the things i used to hate and wanted to get rid of. i suddenly loved my boobs (i wanted top surgery for YEARS before t) i loved my eyelashes, i loved the way my body looked in womens clothes, and i still loved being a man. im still a man and happier with that than ive ever been, but im more feminine now than i really ever have been! and its because suddenly being a man and having this mans body was something that belonged to ME, not to anyone else. this happiness and this body were on MY terms!!! so anon, i hope that you can try hormones and you get to explore the changes that bring you joy and that you find even more joy in the things you never expected before. but if you dont get hrt? youre still one of us always. i hope you will still find the love in your heart for yourself and the man you are regardless. peace and love and trangenderism ❤️

just want to add on that i relate heavily to your part about "falling in love with the things i used to hate and wanted to get rid of" because my chest was one of my biggest source of grief pre-T and could not imagine a life for myself without top surgery, and even injured myself from binding too much. but something about being on hrt and finally seeing and experiencing myself with more masc features (and living my life as a guy, in my own way) gradually flipped a switch in my brain and i started to love my boobs. and then when i stopped T i was worried and scared i would lose that love, but now i actually love them more than ever (if my art wasnt indication enough hehe). there's so many ways to be trans, and be a man, and i'm so grateful i gave myself the patience and space to explore that, and that i can continue to explore and experience joy with it. peace and love and transgenderism forever 💙

#love how half my notifs right now are sweet and genuine messages #and the other half is people talking about how badly they want to get leon pregnant #i wouldn't have it any other way <3 #ask wilt

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johnbleepingzoidberg · 1 year

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UNTITLED EVIL LUIGI AU COMIC THING | Page 2 & 3 of (???)

Eggman Bowser’s come to make an announcement. Particularly to shut down any premonitions Mario may be holding onto a little too tightly. Bowser and Mario are able to set aside their differences (for now, at least) so that they can work together on a common goal-- figuring out where the hell Luigi is.

(A/N under cut)

---

believe me when i say i really wanted to link all the pages together in a neat, practical way so that everything would appear more organized than it actually is, but tumblr hates me and won’t let my posts show up in the tags if i include a hyperlink of any kind. :D

i read somewhere that tumblr only disallows posts from showing up in tags if it includes an external link (vs an internal/link to another tumblr page), which, in theory, shouldnt be an issue since the pages i’d be linking to are also on tumblr but regardless it’s not cooperating with me anyway. i’ve been on tumblr for what feels like a million years but this is the first time ive tried to make my posts cohesive like this so if anyone knows how to fix this issue im all ears 🙃 for the record, everything related to this au will be going into the following tags on my blog: #my art, and #evil luigi au. we’ll just have to sort things that way for now, i guess 😭

i start work tomorrow so can’t say when there will be a new page but i do have a lot planned out already. so hopefully i’ll be able to continue what ive started for at least a handful of more pages 🤠 next page will be fun to work on. for a bowuigi-centered story, where’s the luigi?! he’ll show up soon. just in the form of a flashback for now though 👀

also sorry if my handwriting is evil. it’s just personally easier/faster to write out everything by hand than type everything out but i may try to type the next page’s dialogue to see how it goes and to see if it makes things look ✨cleaner✨

(also also i spent so much time trying to figure out how to draw them doing a handshake for the “truce” panel. i ultimately failed. therefore.... fist bumps LMAO)

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowser #mario #super mario bros #super mario movie #bowuigi comic #my art #mine #evil luigi au #remember how i said last time there will be absolutely no consistency to this in any sense of the word #these 2 pages really showcase that LOL #love how i go from drawing bowser with a full set of teeth to like. 3 #maybe i really should consider typing out the text thatd probably help #anyway i hope i can keep this going for a bit #i do plan on writing an original comic someday so this is good practice/is a good confidence booster for me #i love drawing bowser holding teeny ass cups. it is so funny to me. why #also working on trying to better distinguish this story from mr L's story #because when i started it i did not really know about the whole mr L thing LOL #so im hoping it doesnt seem like im trying to like.......rip off that whole concept #that would be sad :(

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anantaru · 1 year

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✧ ۫ 𑄼ల۫ ۪ sfw scaramouche boyfriend headcanons

we all know he deserves some fluff in his life 🩰

genre: fluff, gn! reader, kissing, lots of love, gossip boyfriend kuni (my favorite personal hc)

+ ˚ gossiping while cuddling (gossip bf kuni)

without a single doubt, quality time like that one in particular was surely scaramouche's favorite and according to him, nothing else could outbid it either.

and, well, this is what he always aspired, to have you close by his side so you'd be secured and loved forever.

enveloping you with both tenderness and warmth, kuni had placed his head against your own to listen to your incoherent mumbling about your day.

how come your breathing was calming him so greatly? your heart, it sounded so fragile, stirring him on to protect it even further.

more often than not, you'd also ask him to tell you all about his past work place, you weren't sure what made it funnier, the stories scaramouche would come up with from time to time or the way he was telling them to you.

full of disgust and demeanor, it was safe to say he hated everyone there.

from what you can see, it was clear as day kuni loved sharing stuff with you, didn’t matter what it was.

he wasn't eager to do so in the beginning but gradually loosened up to the idea of sharing things with his s/o.

yet in truth, and that goes without saying, scaramouche was actually quite invested in the gossips and little stories you'd tell him, he'd ask more than you would’ve thought he would about them.

the worst, jarring, possible outcome would be for you to leave him on a damned cliffhanger, it was infuriating and irksome, so annoying!

his hands are now tightly entangled in yours and ever so often he‘d draw you closer as well, kissing and worshipping your tender skin while eagerly listening to the continuation of your juicy, hilarious stories.

+ ˚ painting each others nails

as you'd expect from your boyfriend, he'd do whatever you'd want, sometimes scaramouche would complain about it but do not fret, he‘d still do it regardless.

so, if you ask if he could paint your nails because you tend to mess yours up, he'd naturally agree after some bickering like "can you not even do that without me?"

but bear in mind, scaramouche wants everyone to know you're his so, what if, he'd let you paint his nails too now? it'll be a perfect outcome, a so called "win-win" situation.

"be careful!" he's squeaking as you worked your way to his fingernails, gingerly applying the black polish, slowly, you did it slow so you wouldn't mess it up.

important to note and much to your surprise, kuni was actually quite skilled in putting on nail polish on your nails.

"why wouldn't i be able to do this?"

he's shooting you a deadly glare while hiding the obvious flustered state he were in, raising a brow.

"do you humans need to be taught every single little thing?"

here he goes again, well, that was entirely different but you did not bother to speak up, being aware of his nature with words that is.

"you're just that skilled kuni."

making sure to add a little teasing, apathetic lace around your words, you had caught your boyfriend off guard, again.

he's averting his gaze from you fully now to focus on the mission ahead— that being applying polish on the nails of your left hand, but not before snarkily rolling his eyes back at you.

also in true fashion, he‘d complain every once in a while, can you stop moving? he‘s trying to get the job done, duh!

"stop wiggling around like that, you just want me to mess up!"

+ ˚ getting used to being loved

touch, intimacy and love.

three things that weren't as easy for scaramouche as someone might think.

you see, it's quite difficult to trust, to open yourself up to someone and give yourself to them in the process.

for him, it's like he showed weakness that way, something he utterly despised about not only himself, but about humans in the past.

yet as you took his hands into yours, soothing relaxing circles on his palms, the once dampened light in him, suddenly glowed yet again.

you had never seen it before like that. Of course, when scaramouche and you were together, you'd be able to coax out a couple grins or smiles from him— even with him trying to hide them, they‘ll still appear in the end.

but that glow, that damned glow and you couldn't stop yourself from looking into his eyes that shimmered with a bright indigo color.

"is this too much?" you whispered and hummed at him to be sure, not daring to overstep any boundaries or have him overwhelmed.

"yes, i‘m fine."

once, he had answered back, his hands weakly traced over your arms, melting in your skin and drawing themselves all the way to your shoulders, one second - two seconds, before pulling himself back to your hands.

the motion of it was slow and light, for scaramouche it was interesting to see how your body reacted to him.

it was almost addicting to watch and study your facial expressions— how your brows knitted together in concentration, or how he caught you chew on your cheeks as he advanced closer to your collarbones.

all the little details surely would come in handy some day, he figured.

+ ˚ conclusion and his past

truly, he wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky to have you by his side.

was this, again, some cruel trick played out by some god? or was it for one, a lucky encounter he had faced?

scaramouche was certain he'd never get this lucky again, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. His past was filled with both sorrow and hard comings, despair without a way out.

sometimes, while being close to you, while none of you spoke rather only indulged in each others embrace, he can't help himself but be encountered by those dreadful memories again.

it's as if his mind was playing dirty, as if it never let him heal but then, he's looking at you, slightly shaken and you notice, you always do.

and when you're closing the slight gap between your lips, kissing away the grim and distress, kuni had been woken up by you again, stirred from the unpleasant feelings as you reassured him that you will stay, as long as you had to until he had fallen asleep at last.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #scaramouche fluff #genshin impact wanderer #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #scaramouche

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gothicbarbie · 4 months

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MY TOP 10 BEST BL COUPLES OF 2023

So I guess I'm a little late considering it's now 2024 in most places, but well, better late than never. I tried and failed to rank top 20 or even 10 kisses... I just couldn't remember them all or even choose... but most of my top couples have some pretty great kisses, so at least there's that! I can, however, rank my favorite BL pairings from 2023, so... let's do it! I will be ranking these from least favorite to favorite because I think it's more fun that way... Also I credited all the gif makers at the bottom but I did list the tumblr user for each specific gif underneath. If someone wants me to remove their gif, please let me know and I will so! I just wanted to pretty up the post a bit.

Also, to clarify, any couple on a show that is currently airing and not complete yet is not eligible to be on the list for 2023. Trust me, there were many I wanted to include!

Honorary Mentions:

Tinn & Gun | My School President

So, spoiler, a different GeminiFourth pairing will be on the actual top 10 so I didn't really want to include both pairings on the list, but I really did love the two of them in My School President. G/F just have such a wonderful and natural chemistry. The way they always look at each other just feels so pure and sweet. I really like pairings where one is secretly pining for the other, but Tinn/Gun also sorta had a hate/love ISH thing going for a little while. The progression of their relationship to actual boyfriends was just so fun to watch and really well done.

Dong Wook & Do Hyun | A Breeze of Love

I watched this BL so quickly that it didn't really resonate with me as well as some other series, which is why these two didn't make the top 10, however, I really enjoyed their relationship on the show. I love hate to love pairings and I found their backstory scenes really sweet as well. I also thought they had a really nice chemistry and there were some strong kissing moments for a kbl.

Jihan & Jaejun | City Boy Log

I didn't include these two on the main list for two reasons, one: the show is not over yet... i don't think? and two: this technically isn't a BL drama? IDK anymore, but regardless I love this series and this couple so dang much! I love the realness of them filming themselves and how their relationship is portrayed so subtly until their feelings just sort of emerge. They have some really wonderful and special scenes or moments together that we don't typically get on other series. I am anxious to see where the rest of the story goes and I hope the actors get another opportunity to work together. The side pairing is great too!

Top 10!

#10. Ai & Songkhram | Destiny Seeker

These two were so damn fun to watch, I really loved the hate to love thing at the start that quickly turned into love (Or I guess always sort of was???). The actors had such a great chemistry together and they had so many fun little moments and bantery scenes together. While the rest of the series felt a little flat for me, their connection continuously kept me interested.

#09. Ze Rui & Zong Yi | Kiseki Dear to Me

Honestly don't even know what to write about these two or how to explain why I like them, because there wasn't anything particularly special about their dynamic that typically draws me in, but I just really enjoyed the actors chemistry together and I really liked the progression of their relationship and how well they meshed together. Their kissing was extremely natural too.

#08. King & Eua | Bed Friend

Firstly, these two are HOT AF, and I really loved the friends with benefits storyline between these two, but more than that, we have a perfect character imo with King, who was continuously there for Eua and always trying to help him and make him understand how much he really cared. The show could be very dark at times but I love that King was always sort of the shining light for Eua.

#07. Segaski & Yoh | My Personal Weatherman

I can admit that the big draw to this show for me originally was the sexy scenes and moments, and while I do think the series could have done with some more scenery changes and better storylines, considering the time frame, I enjoyed watching the relationship between the two characters develop. It's nice to get a friends with benefits type of relationship and see how it progresses into more than that. And for a JBL it was nice to see some high heat with a happy ending.

#06. Su Yu & Wu Bi | Stay With Me

SIGH. THESE TWO. So I mean, I understand the criticism of this show and their relationship. So many things are implied but personally I felt like the end half made it pretty clear that these two were 100% a romantic couple. (just wish it was clarified when that change happened) But the progression of their relationship from hate to love was so beautiful to watch. Even if it was just a friendship it was worth it imo to see how close they got. Fair warning, the finale episode is not the best lmao, but I hope we get a second season to sort of fix it? Fingers crossed on that one.

#05. Wan & Ki Tae | Our Dating Sim

This was definitely one of the cutest BL's of the year and this couple falls into that category well too. I really loved seeing them re-connect. I love that they were old best friends (with feelings) that had a lot of issues to sort through and we saw some adorable flashback scenes as well as current scenes. I also love that they got together and were mostly happy instead of having a lot of intense drama.

#04. Li Ming & Heart | Moonlight Chicken

These two... so much to say about them and yet I don't really know where to start. Gemini and Fourth just work so well together and I felt like this duo was even deeper than in MSP. They started out on bad terms but quickly became close and I really loved the progression of their relationship and then I adored how we also got to see them together as a couple too. My favorite thing about them was how hard Li Ming worked to try to understand Heart and how he learned sign language for him and encouraged him to get to know others like him and to put himself out there. They also had such a fun banter with playful moments and scenes. It was just so damn pure and sweet to watch with no unnecessary or stupid fillery drama.

#03. Jae Won and Ji Hyun | The Eighth Sense

Something about this pairing just felt so much different than the typical KBL pairing. The show itself was so much deeper and had a more serious tone than we typically get, which was amazing. The actors nailed the roles and you could really feel the tension and longing between them right from the beginning. I loved their storyline so much and the actors seemed so comfortable together.

#02. Yamato & Kakeru | I Cannot Reach You

This was one of my favorite BL's of the year and their relationship was a huge part of it. I thought I was more into hate to love, but clearly, based on this list, that isn't always the case. There is something so sweet and adorable about best friends turned to lovers. I really love too when we see one side pining for the other, so this couple was extremely enjoyable to watch!

#01. Chen Yi & Ai Di | Kiseki Dear To Me

Good Lord these two... they had the perfect formula for my favorite type of pairing. Hate to love, drama, tension, angst, one-sided pining... it was so painful to have to wait every week for more. But god, it was worth the wait and their chemistry was just so good, their kisses were phenomenal too. Def. a memorable pair and a show I will be rewatching very soon!

THANK YOU to all these wonderful humans for making the most amazing gifs that I used in this post!

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frozenjokes · 2 months

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Another Much Needed Follow Up About Love and Aromanticism, Where It’s Time We Cleared Things Up. Oh, And Mumbo Is Here Too.

this fic can be read on its own as a one shot, but I would recommend reading this first, as the context provides a little more insight on why the characters are reacting the way they do to each other

Over the course of a couple weeks very little changed. Mumbo spent the majority of his time planted in one place, anchored somewhat in the shallows so he could lift his head and listen to what the humans were doing on the days they came around. As much as it pained Mumbo to be so still so much of the time, it was a necessary evil if he ever wanted to heal, and he very much did. It didn’t matter how little he moved his tail at this point, anything he did would only result in his condition worsening.

If it wasn’t for Scar, he would have left a while ago. The humans didn’t come every day anymore, but they came often enough, and they certainly noticed Mumbo’s lack of activity. Grian tended towards keeping his distance, which didn’t bother Mumbo at all, but Scar really went out of his way to be there; sitting close (a gesture Mumbo was beginning to mind less), bringing him human trinkets to look at and play with (always exciting), but most importantly Scar brought food, and a lot of it at that; Mumbo wouldn’t have been able to stay without it. He often wondered where Scar got the many bags of fish he brought; it wasn’t all very fresh, so it was probably supplied from a human stockpile, but regardless, Mumbo was grateful. He wasn’t often in the best of moods and didn’t speak very much despite the fact he was sure Scar would have been ecstatic to talk with him, but he hoped regardless that Scar knew how deeply grateful he was.

Today, Scar and Grian were sitting on the shore together, shoulder to shoulder as they bent over one of their human activities. The first time Mumbo saw them drawing together, he had asked to see (saying ‘What’ over and over again seemed to have gained several different meanings over the weeks), but Scar had showed him that the paper they wrote on got ruined in the water, ripping easily, so it wasn’t something Mumbo could learn about personally. That was okay though, he was content to watch.

“Okay,” Scar began tapping the writing utensil (‘pencil’) to his lips, “Do we have anything to revise about the list this week? I don’t think very much new has happened.”

“Read it again, will you?”

“It’s right here in front of your face, do I really have to?”

“We’ve been over this Scar, I’m conditionally illiterate. Like right now, you got me up early and I’m tired and the words are so far away and I don’t want to. Also your handwriting is atrocious.”

“I’m tired too! It’s not my fault my fish guy needed me to show up at 6 AM.”

“You have a car, Scar. And a license.”

“Oh hey! Look at this cool list!” Scar directed Grian’s attention back to the paper, Grian only rolling his eyes before letting Scar continue. “Well, I won’t go into detail on my notes about what he eats because that’ll just bore you, but to put it simply, basically everything that’s got meat on it. Fish, shellfish, red meat, chicken, mostly just fish is what I’ve been giving him though, since I’m assuming that's what makes up most of his diet. Want to make sure he gets all the proper nutrients, you understand, you understand.”

“Uh huh.”

“As for ‘Likes,’ we’ve got fish, human stuff, Scar, Grian-”

“Scar first?” Grian cut his friend off with a raised eyebrow. Scar blinked several times before answering.

“What?”

“Scar, Grian. You put your name before mine.”

“Well this list wasn’t meant to be in order, but if it was, my name would absolutely go before yours.”

“What! No it wouldn’t. He likes us equally. Mumbo and I have a mutual understanding that we do not want to be anywhere near each other most of the time. We respect each other. From a distance.”

Scar smirked, throwing Mumbo an amused look as if he understood anything that was going on. “You know if you wanted to you could also bring him gifts and stuff. Nothing is stopping you. You could even bring him his fish if you wanted to, he wouldn’t know the difference. I wouldn’t care. There’s really nothing to be afraid of, especially now when he’s so docile like this.”

“I’m not afraid of Mumbo.”

“No?”

“If anything, he’s afraid of me, Scar. I got him in that net, I’ve gotten close to killing him a couple times- he knows it, Scar, he knows. He knows what’ll happen if he steps out of line, that’s what. I told him. I told him all about it.”

“Did you now,” Scar chuckled, nudging Grian playfully, “Well in that case, I’m definitely sure he likes me more. And I’m sure you’re perfectly content with being feared, but if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to help.”

Grian huffed, “I won’t. Continue though.”

Scar lingered for a moment, a gentle fondness etched on his features before turning back to the paper, reading, “Well, he plays around with those vines and roots and things sometimes, he clearly is very curious, he likes to learn, and I think he likes birds, but he might just be staring at them because he wants to eat them. I put bugs in our ‘Neutral’ category since every time I try to give him a bug he just eats it, but I can’t tell if he just eats bugs or if he’s scared of them or something.”

“I highly doubt Mumbo is afraid of bugs. I doubt he cares.”

“Well, you never know! In ‘Dislikes’ we’ve got nets, sleeping bags, being touched, fighting- actually this isn't super related, but I really want to set up a Good and Bad system with him. A thumbs up thumbs down kind of situation. I was thinking about it all last night- we aren’t very good at communicating what we like or don’t like, and this feels like a good solution, but I’m not exactly sure how to tell him clearly what I’m trying to do. How would he know thumbs up means ‘good.’ And vice versa? Maybe bad would be easier to start with, but at the same time he kinda seems like a bite first ask questions later kinda guy.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Definitely start with thumbs up. With any luck he’ll understand that thumbs down is the opposite and you can go from there. I think you could probably associate the gesture with things Mumbo likes. The tape measure, fish- he knows smiling is a positive thing even if he doesn’t smile himself, and he knows what ‘yes’ means as well. With enough of that, I think he’ll grasp the meaning pretty quick.”

“I think so too,” Scar paused for a moment, thoughtful, “You know, this doesn’t just have to be a me effort. You could come and speak to him as well. He would know you’re putting in the effort if you wanted him to like you more.”

“He likes me plenty!” Grian switched from relaxed to exasperated on a dime, throwing up his hands as Scar laughed. “He likes me, Scar.”

“I know he likes you. But I also know he doesn’t have the full picture. He doesn’t know how much time you spend brainstorming how to teach him things, or how to relieve his stress, or worrying when he’s not feeling well. I just want him to know you aren’t as distant as he probably thinks, especially if it bothers you. If you wanted to get a little closer and help me with the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ gestures, that’d be a start.”

Grian was silent for a long time, brows creased tight above his eyes. “Maybe,” he said finally, almost quietly, “But not today. I’m too tired.”

“Yeah, me too,” Scar sighed, content, letting his head fall to rest on top of Grian’s, who squeaked, jumping so hard he accidentally jabbed at Scar’s chin with his shoulder. It must not have hurt though, because Scar didn’t seem to mind at all, unmoving. Slowly, Grian untensed, his head falling gently on Scar’s shoulder. Mumbo had a somewhat ridiculous pang of longing despite still holding a strong aversion to any human touch at all. They just looked so relaxed- anyone would wonder what it was like to be human. Though, while Scar closed his eyes, Grian didn’t quite look satisfied, something like conflict sitting across his features. He sat like that for a while, eyes moving, but not quite looking at anything at all, apparent restlessness building. Then he stopped. Closed his eyes. Opened them.

“Scar, are you aromantic or are you just fucking with me? Because I outright refuse to believe anyone is actually this clueless.”

Scar opened his eyes. Silence. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh???” It was safe to say the two of them did not look relaxed anymore, Grian jerking away, “Scar, what does ‘uh oh’ mean. You can not just say ‘uh oh’ and nothing else.” Mumbo’s fins raised at the tone of his voice, but Mumbo cringed back when Grian whipped around to face him with an aggressive point. “No. You stay. Scar, I need you to say more right now.”

“I-Sleeping, I mean, we weren’t sleeping yet- but resting like- not friends? Not normal? Bdubs- I am going to strangle that man!”

“So you’re aromantic?” The words leapt off Grian’s tongue like an accusation, but he relaxed almost immediately after, sighing into his hands, “You’re aromantic. Okay. Good. Okay.”

“I- I mean I don’t love labels. I don’t really know, I don’t know much of anything at all, really. I’m sorry, Grian, I didn’t- did no one tell you I have a horrible track record for these things? Did you want me to ask you out? I still can.”

“Goodness, Scar, no! You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you’ve just been sending incredibly mixed signals and I needed to know what was going on with you before my head exploded and my brains went all over the place and poor Mumbo would have to witness that and we don’t want that, do we? We don’t want that. This is fine, though, we just need to work out some boundaries.”

“What if I did want to though? To ask you out?”

Grian stared. Scar stared back.

“You do not want to.”

“I’ll have you know, I like you plenty a lot! I like you all sorts of ways, and if you also like me, then that’s cool! I’ll tell ya, when I had my little politics phase, my campaign manager was this great guy, Bdubs, we’re still friends, too, have you met him? Anyway, he’s a pretty touchy guy as well and he convinced me all sorts of things were totally normal friend stuff. Oh, we had this great cushy chair in our office and it was only really meant for one person, but sometimes we’d both be so tired and just squeeze into it and it wasn’t any sort of comfortable at all, but in a way it kinda was. Like inside. You know?”

“Scar, do you actually want to ask me out or are you just saying that because you think that’s what I wanted.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Not what I asked.”

“Well, Grian, it really doesn’t matter to me either way!” Scar gave Grian a big smile, like these words were the ones that would definitively solve their dispute, but the expression started to drop when Grian looked mortified. “Is..” Scar started, unsure now, “Something wrong?”

Mumbo had never seen such a wide range of emotions cross Grian’s face before his head dropped onto his knees with a soft thunk. “No. It’s fine.”

Scar stared for a long while, a gentle churning of thought moving behind his eyes. He relaxed, scooching to give Grian a little space before smiling again, the expression soft. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Sure, Scar.” Grian’s voice was muffled between his knees, and given his face was covered, Mumbo had no idea how he was feeling.

“So there was this one time in high school where I was good friends with this girl, and she was awesome, just the best, and we hung out like constantly, and y’know how people get sometimes all pushy asking about dating and stuff, but you also know high schoolers who can’t communicate if their life was on the line. So all my friends are like dude, you guys are literally dating, aren’t you? And I say no! I insist we’re not every time, I insist! Yes, we went out together often and we talked for hours and her family had some money troubles so a lot of the time I offered to pay, you know, normal stuff, it was normal, I promise, but one day I get this call, right? From one of her friends! And this girl just starts ripping into me, like, seriously! She’s telling me all this stuff I had no idea about- telling me my friend is so confused, that she doesn’t feel pretty around me, that I’m always trying to avoid intimacy- that I refused to kiss her! And I was like what, whoa there! No one has ever tried to kiss me! Why are we talking about kissing people? She thought we were dating, Grian.”

“I got that.”

“And then she dumped me! My first breakup, and I didn’t even know! I was kinda bummed, too, I had always kinda wanted to kiss someone, but I thought they’d tell me first! Y’know, that they wanted to. I would have been so ready! The worst part is I think my guy friends were trying to tell me we were dating, not just teasing me. They also thought it was funny though, so. Who knows.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know, right! And this other time in college there was this other girl- we had mutual friends and stuff and we were at a party and just absolutely wasted and she grabbed me by the collar and she said ‘SCAR,’ she yelled in my face, she said ‘I’ve been FLIRTING with you for WEEKS and YOU’VE been flirting BACK. ARE YOU GAY?’ And I said, drunk, ‘A little bit!’ And then we danced all night. It was awesome. She was so cool. That kinda stuff happened a lot in college, actually. Guys are a bit more direct, which I appreciate. I’m a little stupid, I need the extra help sometimes.”

Grian tensed where he was sitting, quiet for a short pause before speaking, “You’re not stupid, Scar.”

“I mean. A little bit.”

“No. You’re not stupid.”

Scar was silent for a long while, staring despite Grian’s head still being buried in his knees. “I don’t know about that.”

Grian lifted his head, shaking it ‘no.’ He blinked a couple times before shaking his head again, a little more forcefully. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just talked to you like an adult and told you how I was feeling. Sometimes you’re just really confusing, and that’s not your fault, you just.. go about the world in a different way. And it’s not a bad way either, it’s not wrong. If people can’t communicate exactly how they’re feeling to you, that’s a them issue. You’re not stupid. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Scar. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I really thought we had some sort of understanding- and I did mean it when I said we could give this a shot. I like dating, Grian, I always have a lot of fun! I can be- I know I can be- I have trouble sometimes, I just ruin good things-”

“Scar, stop, please. I don’t want anything you don’t want. Period.”

Scar didn’t seem to know what to do with that, staring uselessly at his own hands before looking back up. “I want it, Grian,” he stressed, his arms trembling, but Grian only stared, lips gently parted.

They both looked.. So sad. Mumbo longed to help, to sing, to do something, but he was stuck outside of their world.

Grian extended his arms. “C’mere, buddy.”

Scar collapsed into them, shaking as he did. Grian didn’t move, rubbing slow circles on Scar’s back while he cried. There was a certain focus behind Grian’s eyes, a certain calm as he held his friend close, and Mumbo.. well, it was clear Grian didn’t need Mumbo’s help. So that was the power of human touch.

He’d have to learn it one day.

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