chichikoi

[chichikoi]

#IS THIS ABT ME

[chichikoi]

SUKUNA iS YUJI's UNCLE?????

#♔ — spam ! #tw spoilers #WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCk

[chichikoi]

wildest nonnies ever

#that one azriel anon #AND THE GENSHIN ASK THATS BEEN MARINATING IN MY INBOX FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG... #oh my god #♔ — spam ! #yall r insane (please send more)

[chichikoi]

Fanfic writers are like crows. If you give them treats (comments) they will bring you shiny things (fanfic)

[chichikoi]

but the real question is... aaron warner or rhysand

first of all, theyre their own people!! there's no this or that, for me. neither of them are my #1 biases in their own books or series, so :sob: if i had to choose... (this is my own brain and hcs!) aaron loves juliette, or ella. his love runs so terribly deep, he'd never let her go. in a million years

and rhysand.... rhysand's love is... profound. he loves feyre enough to let her go, if thats what she wanted. which is so so beautiful to me, and i'd pick rhysand over aaron anyday haha

#♔ — mail ! #♔ — anon ? #tw spoilers

[chichikoi]

anon with the azriel hc PLEASE wait i literally need to type out essays upon essays for him and im sleepy as HELL

#♔ — spam ! #thats WILD

[chichikoi]

We started alone, in the end we’re okay

| Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Rhys’s sister!reader

| Summary: on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on the loneliest night of his life, and how he’s a long way from the person he had to be.

| Author’s note: yes this is inspired by Pretty Little Girl by Blink-182 how’d you know the last 45 seconds of that song are everything to me

| TW: mentions of physical abuse, blood, death

| WC: ~2k

Servants bustled up and down the halls of the Forest House, preparations being made for the Starfall holiday, one he and his family won’t be attending.

He was the only one left in the house - you had taken the kids to Night a day early so they could have a sleepover with their cousins. Meanwhile Eris had a meeting with some advisors in the morning he was unable to reschedule.

Eris strode toward his chambers, his long legs carrying him through the halls that have been the only witness to his comings and goings during his long life. He walked a path so familiar to him he could be reincarnated and still, his feet would carry him where he needed to go.

He had broken tradition when he became high lord, opting to stay in his previous chambers over taking Beron’s previous ones. He wanted to burn those rooms down, wanted to feel his fire consume every remaining remnant of Beron on this plane of existence.

He turned it into additional servant’s quarters instead. His father would have hated it. Lucien was delighted at the news.

Walking through his chambers, a pang echoes through him at the missing toys across the floor, especially the wooden sword he had been tripping over all week, asking Atlas to put it away, his request falling on deaf ears. The floors looked so empty, the room too quiet, despite his children being gone for only a handful of hours.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he breathed in deeply, the scents of his family already several hours old, the rooms slightly colder without their body heat warming them, especially the younger ones, unable to properly regulate their powers yet.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sitting in the old leather chair that’s been in this room as long as he has. His amber eyes roam about the room, taking in every detail, despite very little physically ever changing about the room.

His mind wandered, opening doors into his past he had sealed shut. Doors he would give anything to forget where they sit, doors that he can hear screams from the other side of.

Without intending to, he stumbles through one of those doors, perhaps the largest and most foreboding of all.

The rag made a disgusting squishing noise as it met the tile of his bathroom. The pile was growing larger, his blood seeping out of the rags onto the floor.

He braced his hands on the counter, fingers gripping tightly to the marble counter, sucking in a breath through his teeth, trying not to think, to feel.

He grits his teeth, grinding them together as he pours more alcohol on the fresh rag, preparing himself for the sting.

He quickly placed the rag on his back, a small gasp coming from his lips at the pain. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he sparks a flame on the tile, needing something to distract him.

He skitters the small flame across the floor, rubbing the rag across his torn and shredded back, the alcohol seeping into his wounds, sterilizing them from Beron’s cruelty.

If only he were given the same treatment.

He closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow, trying to stop the images flashing behind them.

Lucien, his baby brother, the best of them, running through the woods, intentionally taking the paths most covered in root.

Lucien, whose long hair resembled Eris’s, and whenever they smiled, they both had the ability to unsettle people.

Lucien, who was slightly taller and stockier than his big brother. Lucien, who spent his young and vulnerable years searching for Eris in every room. Lucien, who Eris took on walks through the woods, teaching him how to snare rabbits.

He was too late to save his lover, had barely arrived in time to send word to Tamlin and redirect Lucien’s running towards the border with Spring.

He had warned and warned and warned Lucien not to test Beron, that he would fail as a father, fail to do the right thing every time.

Lucien, the snarky bastard, could never resist biting back, always testing the boundaries of those around him.

Eris wasn’t surprised when his father had called him to his office one night, desperate for answers to how any son of his could dare be enchanted by a lesser fae. He was, however, more than surprised at Beron’s ridiculous plan for punishing Lucien: forcing Lucien to watch as they killed Jesminda and then killing Lucien.

He couldn’t look at himself, couldn’t believe that they had gotten here, to this point, to this ridiculous sham of a family.

He didn’t know what he was doing until the knife was in his hand, blindly sawing at his hair until the ground around him was covered in strokes of red.

He ignored the throbbing in his back as he moved his hands, ignored the warmth spreading down his back as the wounds reopened. The hacked hair began coating his chest and sticking to the blood on his back.

He stood in a pool of his past, years and years of decay around his feet, a ghost looking back at him in the mirror.

At least his hair was dead before he took the blade to it.

There was no sign of his brother in his reflection. Just a short crop of red hair and some creature looking back at him. Something new roared beneath his skin, some new sense of purpose.

He dropped the knife, the blade clattering against the floor, the sound echoing through the room, but he couldn’t hear it over the rushing of his thoughts, the one thought consuming him.

He knew what he had to do. He would kill Beron. For Lucien, for his mother, for his brothers, for Jesminda.

For himself.

He walked out of the bathroom, into his chambers, opening the large window. The wind was sharp on the wounds on his back, but he couldn't help being drawn into the night sky before him.

An endless sea of stars above him, ones he knows are watching him make poor decision after poor decision. But still they call to him in some language he can’t understand, something deep within him yearning for their company.

He put on a loose shirt, the fabric suffocating his wounds. He slipped through the open window, the night sky infinite before him. Treading through the woods, he walks through unmade paths, paths that one day his children will forge in these woods.

They will never know the path he took that night, searching in the moonlight for a body, disrespected and desecrated. It took him a few hours, but he found what remained of her, parts of her body missing from predation. He waves his hand to shoo off some birds, their annoyed caws growing softer as they flew away.

He uses the shovel he brought to break ground, the wounds in his back that had began healing reopening, fresh blood mingling with the sweat dripping down his back.

All he could feel was the night air, somehow colder without his brother. His hands blister as he digs and digs and digs, offering penance for an atrocity not of his own.

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was the right thing to do, even though Eris was never able to properly discern between right and wrong. Was it out of respect for Jesminda, whose last moments were filled with nothing but terror and the worst the fae had to offer? Was it out of mourning for Lucien, his youngest brother gone forever? Was it penance for all the terrible things he had done in his life so far?

He pulls himself out of the hole, grunting as he gets out of the grave. He looks into it, thinking how easy it would be to just bury himself instead.

Will this be his end? A burial under the cover of darkness by someone he hardly knows?

Knees meet the dirt, his hands moving to her face. He never knew her, not really. Met her in passing at one of the markets in town. She gave him some pastry, her little stall so homey despite its impermanence.

Her eyes are open, not seeing anything. He offers a prayer to the Mother - for Jesminda, for Lucien, for everyone who comes into Beron’s orbit. He asks for safe passage for Jesminda, into whatever afterlife exists.

He closes Jesminda’s eyes, his movements slow and deliberate. He takes her arms - what’s left of them - crossing them against her chest. He fishes from his pocket, putting a gold coin in one hand and an apple in the other.

Food for the journey, to nourish the soul. Gold for enlightenment, a hope that Jesminda will receive some peace in the journey before her. He delicately kisses her on the forehead - a last touch, performed with love and selflessness. Words never before used to describe Eris Vanserra, words that won’t be used to describe him for centuries to come.

He gently scooped her into his arms, taking care to keep her head from rolling back. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Except to Eris it did.

He walked with her over to the grave he had dug, gently lowering himself into the grave. His knees bent, delicatelt placing her on the ground as his chanting continued, pleading for safe passage, for a better ending than this. For an opportunity to come back, for her to get anything better than this.

Her body presses into the ground, relaxing into what will be her final resting place. Eris climbs out of the grave, peering down at his brother’s lover. His brother’s hope for the future, cruelly ripped from him by their father.

He grabbed the shovel, beginning to scoop dirt over her. It felt wrong to do so without Lucien or an audience. But it had to happen.

Once the grave was completely covered, Eris walked over to a patch of asters, using the shovel to scoop several of the flowers up. He lowered them onto her grave, a marking of sorts as he patted the soil around it so the roots would stay in place.

He looked at the asters, their purple hues looking so bright in the moonlight. Words are on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out to pay some form of respect for Jesminda.

But nothing comes out. After a long time, the inly noise around him the chirping of insects, he turns, treading back to the Forest House. His footsteps are quiet, but much heavier. He finds his window easily, taking one last look towards the night sky, wondering what their everlasting gaze would have to say about what they’ve seen before slipping back into his room.

But Eris isn’t there anymore. Many sleepless nights had been spent since then gazing at the stars, dreaming of a better life. Dreaming of the day he would get to see Lucien again, silently asking the stars for any help they could provide.

Eris never put much faith into the Mother, assuming she had forsaken him and left him to be on his own. Until he met you. You who walked on stardust and moonlit skies. You who facilitated a reconciliation between himself and Lucien.

Eris’s fingers push through his short hair, reminding himself of how far he has come since that fateful night. For the first time in a long time, his fingers ache to feel more length.

#i thought i wasnt an eris girl #i clearly thought wrong #♔ — rbs ! #this is so pretty #am i laughing or crying #WAH

[chichikoi]

oh my god :") thoma !? AND THE WAY HE CLEANS SO SO THOROUGHLY (idk about me but my ocd will absolutely fall in love with this man) DUDE I NEED TO HAVE CLEANING DATES WITH THIS MAN??? HES LITERALLY PERFECT FOR ME. holy shit

🌷 koi || they/them || romantic relationship || black and blue <3

-> i love cheesecake and warm hugs <3 i love puppies (i have 2 dogs) -> id prefer not to be matched w/ any teenagers/anyone whos an established minor ^^

<3

hihihhi koikoi !!! thanks for joining my event hehehe :3 without further ado, here's ur matchup !!!

i match you up with . . .

thoma !

oKAY HEAR ME OUT . cheesecake. he can literally make you cheesecake. and he can literally make other desserts just for you ...

warm hugs? deal. every morning every night every time he passes by you. he's literally the warmest person around ... so he's very much perfect for you hehhe :3

AND PUPPIES !!! this man hello ?? with taroumaru ?? imagine him with tiny puppies dear Lord he cannot keep himself together it's straight to heaven with him TT he'd set up a puppydate for the two of you ( will most likely make a pun about puppy love ) :"""""""

black cat x brown cat dynamic for the two of u HEHEE. or maybe black cat x golden retriever...... that suits better i think

#♔ — spam ! #hes so green that id be the red flag in the relationship :sob:

[chichikoi]

i just know that cassian loves baking with his s/o. hes probably in LOVE with the idea of wrapping his arms around your waist whilst you bake and pretend to help you

oh my godddd (ACOTar ask yayayayay) this!!

cassian is TOTALLY going to wear aprons shirtless too, under the pretense of helping you (distracting you. goddamn, how... is he so... chiseled.) imagine him kneading cookie dough i am down so bad and a couple pieces of his hair falls in front of his face?? he probably asks you to tie it back because his hands are full... tells you that he has a hair tie in his back pocket (of course its in his back pocket. of all pockets-) and smiles to himself when you cant reach the top of his head (cassian is the tallest bat boy.) he probably then washes his hands and lifts you to prop you up on the counter, and bends down so you can reach his head. after you're done, he smiles at you with a shit eating grin which leaves you wondering... why didnt he do it himself?? didnt he just wash his hands?

i also have this headcanon that he has the most perfect nose (which is SO unrelated but good god, his nose has got to be... perfect.) he smears frosting on his own nose, knowing you'll reprimand him, and smiles at you like a fool as he tells you not to let it go to waste...

#♔ — mail ! #♔ — anon ? #cassian #i am a whole different BREED of down bad for him #i saw peoples hc of him being #6'7 ft tall and thats fucking CRAZY??? #HES THE TALLEST SO IT MAKES SENSE #Ive always hced rhys to be around 6'3 or 6'4 #taller than that... is #FUCKKKK HES SUCH A MASSIVE MAN I NEED HIM CARNALLY #Nesta literally has to go onto her tip toes to see over Cassians SHOULDER #and shes the tallest of the sisters so shes probably 5'8 or 5'9 #and just to see over his shoulder on her tip toes... god

[chichikoi]

updated my rules :D

minors DNI with nsfw content. (anything tagged #nsfw and/or #mdni.)

please be respectful! i will block any minors who i find breaks this rule :")

#♔ — spam ! #important

[chichikoi]

my my... the acotar anons in my inbox rn are WILD

#♔ — spam !

[chichikoi]

working on my 18+ blog (for a while now) ! mutuals can ask for the url <3

#♔ — spam !

[chichikoi]

GERMAN DILUC GERMAN DILUC GERMAN DILUC 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 his groans in German and his angry complaints in German lord almighty. Consider me done. I feel like the more emotional he is, whether it be exhaustion or anger, the more his accent becomes apparent.

If we’re talking German Diluc, can we PLEASE talk about Desi kaeya please please please do you understand what this does

- tired anon

okay bc hear me out, after he's had the longest day, he probably loves to come home to you and sink in your arms as he talks about how his day was in his rough german accent :") i also think his voice grows more... deeper or baritone when hes tired, and both of these hcs together just... UGHHHH. probably says german phrases here and there, forgetting that he needs to translate for you because he is just so comfortable, he couldnt possibly maintain his poised and composed persona forever, especially not in front of you. God i love him.

desi kaeya??? ARE YOU JOKING !? okay i have a tiny scenario bc i LOVE going to events, weddings, functions everything. but the aftermath of it... i dressing down is just so exhausting.

so, kaeya in a black kurta will rolled up sleeves. he leans down to unclasp your necklace and falls in love with the smell of jasmine in your hair (why does he need wine when he's already so intoxicated by your presence as is?) imagine him putting lotion on your wrists so you can remove your bangles easily, and he interlocks your fingers with his (be he felt like it) and smiles at you cheekily??? chuckles at the makeup that's melting off your face, and when you pout at him, he tells you that you look beautiful, even with mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin (little did he know that he was the reason for that mess) and the blush wiped off your face (because the natural flush of your cheeks are just so much more beautiful to him...)

i have so many desi! boys headcanons please hit me the FUCK up with brainrot bro :D!!

#♔ — mail ! #♔ — tired anon ! #tw alcohol

[chichikoi]

unleashing a storm brace ur dash

#♔ — spam !

[chichikoi]

im screaming into my pillow kicking my feet rolling around in bed at this. WAHGJH diluc 🥹 he has SUCH a chokehold on me... im just a girl 🥹

cw. none, reader is insecure, established relationship, gn! reader

you awkwardly brush away the dust from your clothes before reluctantly looking in the mirror, nervously shifting your weight from left leg to right leg as you inspect yourself, and perhaps on that day, you do not like what you see.

yes, it happens, you could not see a single thing, yet your legs refused to walk away from the sight of yourself.

well, maybe, you shouldn't be sad, it would only make yourself feel a lot worse, don't you think? although as you were to slowly let the negative notions grasp onto yourself like a dangerous virus eating away on its host, you notice two familiar arms wrap around your waist as you feel the comfortable warmth of diluc's chest pressed against your back.

diluc ragnvindr was always like this, without great effort, noticing whenever you aren't feeling your best.

he rests his head in the nook of your neck and breathes in, a long inhale of air gathering in his lungs before he exhales through his parted mouth, "hey, you're so beautiful, you know that?" he whispers with a gentle smile that touched the deepest parts in your heart as blood rushes to your cheeks at the compliment.

his lips shortly place a warm kiss at the curve where your neck connects to your shoulder, speaking to you without requiring words, yet doing it distinctly enough like chords do from the string, "i find myself looking at you, all the time."

with love so sudden and sweet, it takes you by storm, his gentle kisses seemingly hearing the silent, negative voice in your head as he knows how to make you calm down and comfort you in the process.

curiously, your gaze swathes from your figure to his face, admiring the handsome features belonging to your boyfriend— those lips and those eyes, reaching your soul when it feels out of sight.

he does it flawlessly, loving you of course, because diluc loves you to the depth and breadth and height, with a passion entirely put to use.

it pains him when he sees you saddened. when all he sees is a beauty of cloudless climes and starry skies— your smile that shows him what home looks like, or the addiction of your lips, the glow in your eyes.

hey, you hear? you need to focus.

because my dear, you're perfect you see, you cannot not be.

because perfection ultimately lies in the imperfection of it all, the uniqueness, the individuality and kindness.

and even when you cannot see it at all today, all of it will forever bloom like the sweetest flower on your face.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

#and this is WRITTEN SO PRETTILY :sob: I WANT TO DROWNNN IN THIS FIC #the soft reassurance and the fact that he knows whats wrong without us having to tell him is the most... husband material thing he- #-could do #im so hopelessly in love with him #i need him carnally #the most romantic thing he couldve done #is wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head and pepper kisses in the crook of your neck and #THATS EXACTLY WHAT HE DID and i am holding back violent tears #♔ — rbs ! #i love this #you have blessed my eyes mind and soul with this

[chichikoi]

I hate it here is for all the girlies who grew up reading books as a precocious child and dreamt of worlds that exist only in a sophisticated imagination, for the girls who live in delusions

[chichikoi]

Azriel smut coming soon 😌😏

You were being hunted. Those whiskey eyes impossible to ignore as they followed you across the room. It didn't matter where you turned; the burning stare of the shadowsinger always seemed to move with you. The traces of a sly smile beginning to form on the male's lips as he witnessed your wasted efforts in attempting to escape his persistent gaze. You were trapped, unable to do anything but watch as Azriel stalked towards you. Wings flared and eyes hungry as he made his approach.

#IM JUST A GIRL 😭😭😭