#MUST EAT AND DEVOUR EVERY SINGLE ART

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,542

Warnings | +18, smut dubcon(?), somnophilia, pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, male masturbation, Jungkook is desperately horny, cumming on her, body worship, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, kidnapping, Jungkook is absolutely obsessed, this is not for minors.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Third chapter of Happy Ending arrived, enjoy your reading, my dears 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

That same night, a shadow wandered around the young woman's apartment. It had not been difficult to get there, as he had already thought, those windows were too old and easy to force, he could not allow Y/N to live in such a place. If a novice like him had managed to open the window facing the kitchen so quickly, then an experienced thief would have been able to do even better. He looked around, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, being very careful not to make any noise, noticed a pizza box on the table, with Coke cans scattered around, was very careful not to step on a single one - mentally cursing at the girl's mess - and headed for what he guessed was her room.

He opened the door slightly, which squeaked faintly because of rust, but that was not enough to wake the girl who lived in the apartment. Y/N must have been a very heavy sleeper, the boy thought. Jungkook was there for one simple reason, to take Y/N away and make her live a better life with him. Normally an art professor would not have made that much money, but professor was not his only job, he thought with a grin. The school's principal, Kim Seokjin, had his hands in everything, and someone like Jungkook was right for him. He then looked around, studying the environment to get an idea about his beloved's tastes, finding a variety of references to anime and manga, as well as books and flowers. Nothing that hinted at a passion for fashion, but of that Jungkook did not worry, he would see to it that she was dressed cute and perfect, just for the pleasure of his eyes.

Reaching just to one side of the single bed, he stared at Y/N sleeping blissfully with only part of the blanket to give her warmth, the tender lower lip protruded invitingly and Jungkook felt the urge to squeeze it between his teeth, tasting its softness. He shivered slightly when he took a flap of the blanket, pulling it aside. He slowly uncovered Y/N's body, revealing something that made the man's brain go haywire. Y/N slept in only a tank top and panties even in winter. It was a comfortable habit for the girl, but for Jungkook it was like a wedding invitation, literally. His eyes did not break away from the bare skin in the slightest while enough light filtered through the window to make that vision heavenly for him.

He slowly knelt down, a hand flew within inches of her calves, he did not know whether to touch her that way or not, she was not conscious, it would not be right, would it? The boy found himself gritting his teeth, it would only be a caress, a gentle caress. He gently laid his fingers on one calf, held his breath at the smooth sensation of her skin against his fingertips and continued with the slow ascent, felt his lips dry up when, having reached her knee, Y/N decided of her own volition to spread her leg wide, leaving a wide view of her intimacy covered by the blue panties, at which point Jungkook's blood concentrated in one spot. He took that sign as a Y/N response to continue. He climbed onto the bed gently, positioning himself right on top of the young woman, his hand opening on her inner thigh, the softest and most tender part of her leg, felt that buttery texture under his fingers and did the same with the other, thus bringing both legs apart for him, he sent down watering at that scene so erotic that it nearly drove him mad.

He felt powerful as never before in his life, he could do anything he wanted to her and she would continue to sleep blissfully. The young girl's tightly closed eyelids cast lash shadows across her cheeks, she was so serene in sleep that Jungkook found her enchanting, so much so that he leaned over her, stealing a sweet kiss on her cheek, in love with that pure little fairy of his. His. He watched for a possible reaction, but she continued to sleep. Not content, he descended lower, to the tender breasts enclosed in that wide camisole, lifted the pale fabric finding himself face to face with what, he knew, would become his favorite damnation, studied with hungry eyes the perfect color of those still soft and relaxed little buttons, barely touching with a finger the velvety, graceful circle of an areola. He trapped the tender nipple with his lips, sucking it tenderly inside his warm, moist mouth, felt it plump under the strokes of his tongue and found himself nibbling on it without too much pressure, sending small, sweet twinges to the young girl's sleeping body. Y/N, for her part, turned her head slightly, opening her mouth slightly in a moan that her brain could not fully register.

Jungkook cupped the other breast, stimulating it with the tip of a finger, squeezing it lightly before devoting his mouth to it as well, and the more he engulfed that tender flesh, the more his cock throbbed uninterruptedly in search of its dose of forbidden caresses. A pop resounded from the room as he let go of his grip on the young girl's now abused nipple, went down with moist kisses all along the girl's chest, with his sweet prey's breathing rising in response, thus reaching the lower abdomen licking a small trail around her navel, moaning silently at the taste of that skin that he would also have gladly bitten into, but he could not risk waking the girl up in the midst of his fun, so he merely descended lower and lower, reaching to the fabric of her panties. With the tip of his nose he pressed against her covered pussy, ecstatically inhaling the natural scent of her essence, he felt himself salivating and his own boxers got a little wet, he pressed his erection against the mattress moving slightly to give himself some relief, not satisfied he peeled back the fabric of the panties and almost thought he would come there on the spot. The rosy flesh of the folds opened under the pressure of his index finger, revealing the swollen clitoris and the sweet slit from which sweet transparent liquid was already leaking.

Jungkook gave a long lick that from the young woman's narrow entrance reached up to her clitoris, encircling it with the tip in a tender and insistent caress; on another occasion the boy would have cried out in the most bewitching pleasure, but he forced himself to enjoy that taste in silence. Y/N unknowingly thrust his hips into the man's ravenous mouth in a soft, slow rhythm that delighted Jungkook. That to him was the ultimate proof that the girl accepted his intimate attentions without regret. He used two fingers to stimulate the young woman's lit and pulsating clitoris, continuing with the tip of his tongue to penetrate the tight and wet slit, sucking the small quivering lips together with the unconscious girl's legs, continuing to poke and pull at that pearl now stiff and ready to explode between his index finger and thumb, teasing the soft flesh ever more insistently. "Mm... Ah...!" the girl's back arched slightly, exposing more and more of her intimacy to the boy, her body tried to keep up with that forbidden pleasure, in her mind Y/N was dreaming, dreaming of Jungkook and in her dream the boy was doing to her just what the real Jungkook was joyfully enacting in reality.

He willingly swallowed the young girl's fluids with yet another tongue caress, then replaced his fingers with the latter, cradling the pulsating clitoris in velvety lashings, penetrating the now-soaked entrance with his fingertips, the girl rigidly propped her feet up on the mattress, opening her mouth wide and frowning in a shrill howl, which was prolonged when her clitoris succumbed to extreme pleasure following a light bite from the boy, his teeth weakly crushing that taut pearl, now at the 'extreme and that gesture was enough to release its violent contained pleasure. Jungkook detached himself from Y/N's quivering body, lowering his pants and boxer shorts, took his already dripping cum cock in his hand and leaned over Y/N beginning to pump himself several times, ran his thumb over the scarlet tip increasing the speed of his thrusts, before pouring out a large amount of cum with a choked cry, smearing the girl's breasts and panties with the sticky white liquid. He looked at his work of art with devotion and affection, stroking his cock in an attempt not to let up again on those gentle discharges of pleasure, until it became completely soft again. He adjusted his clothes, retrieving tissues from the girl's bedside table to wipe off his semen, silently praying that the sweet, spicy taste of Y/N would never disappear from his tongue.

God, he would have taken her again and again on that bed, but he shook his head to himself , Y/N deserved better and wanted her awake when it happened. He wanted her to see with her own eyes how much love he would be able to give her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

[althaiareads]

Hiya, I'm normally way too anxious to pop into someone's asks but I love the selection of Joel and Tommy Miller fics you have. Do you have any authors you would recommend for either of them and any fics you'd recommend? Thank you <3

Aaaahhhhh! Thank you so much for sending an ask! It means the world to me that you enjoy my carefully curated (not at all) blog. You are so lovely!!

As for recs... I recently responded an ask with outbreak day themed fics, and I wholeheartedly recommend their work. They are amazing writers.

Here you have some more recs.

For authors, a.k.a. please read their entire masterlists:

@ay0nha is just an amazing writer, seriously. Their work is absolutely incredible. I would recommend Dead Man Walking and Violent Delights, Violent Ends, both are Tommy Miller fics that are unbelievable! I am currently in a brain rot over VDVE Tommy, it's so good.

@inej-ruination-ghafa again, because I just love her so much. I am in the process of devouring her entire masterlist. I would recommend Bloody Hands for Tommy Miller, absolutely amazing! As for Joel I would go with Mine it's just so cute, absolutely incredible.

@pedgeitopascal just read her entire masterlist. Please. Vee is an amazing writer, everything she writes is gold. If I had to rec some of her work, I would go with To do the right thing (which she's turning into a full out series and I'm so excited about it) and A safe haven an ongoing series that I love so much. But seriously, go through her entire masterlist, I did, and wow.

@inklore I mean, Laur is a must when talking fic recs. Her work is amazing, she's in hiatus right now, but she has posted some of the most delicious smut I have read in my life, and I say this as a non smut girly. My fav would have to be Folly it has the angsty edge I love. It is part of the wicked game series, and I love it.

@nexusnyx Nyx, the absolute love of my life. Her writing is straight up poetry, I love it. I melt in compliments whenever she posts. My favs from her are the series Journey to Kintsugi, and this drabble, both are for Joel Miller. Again, please check out her entire masterlist.

@kteague have I recc'd them yet? I don't know, but they are astonishing! Their work is art in every single way. My fav has got to be A Future Together, I promise there's the most twisted unexpected twist halfway through the series that'll make you question your life!

@guess-my-next-obsession is absolutely incredible! I would rec Elementary a series set pre outbreak, and all the drabbles she's put out in that universe.

For one-shots or short series, a.k.a. people that I have not yet had the time to read all their work, but they are absolutely amazing:

Tommy Miller

It will come back by @moonlight-prose the softest hottest smut you'll read in your life, I promise. One of the first Tommy fics I read, I think, and it made me fall for the man.

The best thank you by @augustghosts it's domestic, established relationship with Tommy, and it's so cute. Tommy is a little shit sometimes, but that's okay, he makes up for it.

You are the reason by @angsty-twihardxx it's a three part series, and omg did I suffer reading it! Angsty as fuck, and absolutely beautiful, I loved the ending so much.

Apple of my eye by @gtgbabie0 is just so me, you know? It's set in Jackson, and it is just the cutest.

But then I found her by @iraot right so. I cried. A lot. So, I think you should too. That's all I'm gonna say. Please check it out, it's amazing.

Joel Miller

Safe & Sound by @pagesfromthevoid Cress is an amazing writer! And I wholeheartedly recommend all of her work. This is her first Joel Miller series and is just so good? Two chapters out, and I am eating this shit up!

Why She Spared Me by @colonelarr0w spoilers for the game TLO2, so careful, love. But... I sobbed like a baby reading this. It hurt, it broke my heart, it was awful, I loved it.

This one by @forever-rogue wing woman Ellie for the win. Joel being all nervous, Jackson being the safe place it is. It's such a cute and fun read, amazing!

Unexpected by @typingcorgi okay, this one is HOT! But also, soft, it is a lovely relationship between the two of them and I love it so much. I am eagerly waiting for the last part <3

Ughh, I feel like I'm forgetting many talented writers, and I've come back like 20 times already, but that's all I have for now :(

Please if anyone has more recs, do add them! 🫶🏻🩷🫶🏻

Happy reading, love <3

#Joel Miller fic recs #Tommy Miller fic recs #lovely anon #althaia answers

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Pac-Man

CR 20

Neutral Evil Gargantuan Outsider

Bestiary 2, pg. 70-71 (art from Michele Rocco’s Artstation!)

Monstrous embodiments of Abaddon’s apocalyptic ideals, Pac-Men are roaming maws with an unceasing hunger for mortal souls. Able to chew through materials up to and including solid rock with the ease of a child eating cotton candy, Pac-Men carve swaths across any countryside they’re unleashed upon, consuming everything in their path to both sate their appetites and to end as many lives as they possibly can before they’re slain or banished. Given their resilience and titanic power compared to the average city guard, stopping even a single Pac-Man tends to be something only the greatest of adventurers can handle.

In most media they’re portrayed in, Pac-Men are often captured inside inescapable labyrinths that even they cannot chew through and forced to chase down whatever morsels are dropped in by happenstance (or whoever created the labyrinths), a myth they share in common with Minotaurs. Much like Minotaurs, this is true for the most famous of all the Pac-Men, but the average Pac-Man is more likely to create a maze than become trapped in one, able to erect Walls of Fire and Walls of Ice at will, and summon indestructible Walls of Force 3/day. Able to easily float through the air and burrow through the ground to circumvent their conjured obstacles (or just teleport past them), their summoned battlefields tend to be mild inconveniences for them and terrible, inescapable prisons for the victims they’ve trapped inside, who can only listen helplessly as the sounds of their gnashing jaws grows inexorably closer.

As expected, Pac-Men long to get into melee so that they may snap as many helpless victims into their gigantic maws as they can. To this end, their gluttonous mouths snap so ferociously they can actually bite twice in a round, dealing 2d8+12 damage each time and Grabbing whatever victims they manage to bite down on. Should they miss with their jaws, or if they simply want more victims (and they always do), they can extend upwards to four reaching claws from within their throats to not only slash victims for 2d6+12 damage each, but Grab onto them as well. Finally, their teeth can jut out all on their own to form goring spikes which can rake across nearby foes for 2d8+12 damage. With a 20ft space and a 20ft reach, Pac-Men can very easily reach every corner of their conjured battlefields to pluck screaming victims from the crowd and begin swallowing them.

Lacking Fast Swallow, Pac-Men must use their move actions to pull victims Grabbed by their throat claws into their mouths proper, but can swallow any victim held in their jaws as a standard action, pushing the poor soul(s) into their grinding, soul-sucking innards. Any creature that begins its turn within the fiend’s stomach takes 4d8+18 bludgeoning damage and automatically gains 1d4 negative levels with no save. Able to hold up to four Medium creatures at a time in their cavernous stomachs, even their interior is another labyrinth; any creature that tries cutting its way out (which must contend with the 20 AC and 40 HP of each gut chamber) has a 50% chance of being regurgitated into a different stomach chamber than out of the beast entirely, forced to suffer another round of damage,

In the most famous tale about Pac-Men, a single one was used as a punishment for wayward souls, hunting them down in a maze and devouring them over and over and over again. This is the fate of many who end up consumed, their bodies destroyed and their souls condemned to Abaddon, where the horrors may yet hunt them down again to devour them and utterly erase their existence. For others, especially souls destined for the higher planes, they’re nonetheless rendered into ammunition for the beast’s breath weapon; 3/day it can exhale either a 120ft line or a 60ft cone of shrieking black mist, the alien waste product it creates as it digests its victims. This mist deals 20d10 negative energy damage to any creature that fails a DC 27 Reflex save.

Not all in the path of the apocalyptic beasts are destined for its gullet, especially if they prove to be a threat to it, perhaps by penetrating its DR 10/Good and Silver or passing its meager elemental resistances. Should a Pac-Man feel overwhelmed or surrounded, it may unleash a shrieking Wail of the Banshee 1/day, dealing a flat 200 damage to up to 20 creatures. Anything made vulnerable by the wail can be reduced to ash by its 3/day Quickened Disintegrate, blowing 40d6 worth of HP off a single target in the horror’s field of vision. In a twisted form of mercy, these are the least painful ways for someone to meet their ends when one of these beasts is roaming the world.

A far cry from the silly storybook version that gets overwhelmed by the ghosts of its past victims!

You can read more about them here.

[polarisgreenley]

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 5 "Lily of the Valley"

[AO3]

The first day of classes at Hogwarts - Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and a bit of Runes. All before going off to Hogsmeade.

Except below (the rest can be read through the AO3 link above!):

Artemis was the sort to rise on her own accord at what some referred to as an unholy hour of five in the morning. This morning, despite the unusual length of the potion-induced slumber, was no different. She spent the next few hours, in the name of calming her nerves, double-checking everything she had.

Artemis was, as Professor Fig aptly put, the prepared sort.

As Professor Weasley had stated, a cross-body school bag appeared by her bedside, filled with notebooks, quills, inkpots and pencils. All of her needed textbooks were stacked in a precariously balanced tower, and a single pewter cauldron teetered on top like an academic Christmas tree. Clad in the Hogwarts uniform with the top button undone, her hair in the milkmaid braid and filled with the armada of white hairpins, and the soft scent of kinmokusei, she unveiled the legside bag’s contents.

Her Potions and Healer’s kits contained every potion, container and ingredient she’d packed up sans those that she’d used. The Wound-Cleansing Potion was mostly still full, the Wiggenpaste hardly used, but she’d need to brew another Calming Draught. A good excuse to buy some decent crocodile heart. Nocturne batted at the offensive purple potion.

The pin-striped pyjamas she’d worn lay upon the bed. Past her apparently had the foresight to include a spare uniform; she gave herself a mental pat on the back. Her grimoire, a tin of kinmokusei solid perfume, her small Japanese dictionary (kanji could be such a headache), the gifts from the Price family, and finally something she didn’t pack.

A set of new, obsidian balanced throwing knives. She flipped the blade, and saw the etched enchantment runes that gleamed bronze at her touch: Pertho & Algiz. Artemis smiled – how fitting. Carefully, she tucked away everything back aside from the spoon. She held the trinket gently in her left palm, her Glamoured scar also now hidden under light wood and whittled buttercup. Like a little piece of her childhood friend was there, in his own way.

The thought alone was enough for her heart to calm enough to start on the small breakfast of toast, apples, and chai. Nocturne devoured a plate of fish next to her as her mind went back to yesterday.

Professor Fig must be grieving for his friend, thought Artemis as she took another sip. Perhaps she’d stop by during lunch to deliver a bouquet, it was the least she could do. The spoon was tucked away into her legside bag then, her robes left folded for now.

“Orchideous.”

Chrysanthemum, marigold, lily of the valley, cypress, mint.

Oranges, yellow, white and bits of herby green.

Nocturne sniffed at the bouquet curiously.

“You can’t eat these, darling,” warned Artemis softly as she held the bouquet in her hand. Her wand hand went to pet Nocturne’s head.

“I believe black velvet would bind that well, Miss Loreley.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #a bouquet of new beginnings #artemis loreley #natsai onai #matilda weasley #dinah hecat #abraham ronen #eleazar fig

[harry-writings]

My Birthday Girl

Another Drive Me Wild blurb for all my emotionless!h lovers out there! I hope you enjoy!! <3 I truly did not know how to end this but oh well, she’s cute anyways :’)

Masterlist

How to support me <3333

-

Chocolate covered strawberries.

They’re Y/n’s favorite — the snack she always asks him to make for her on special occasions, and even on her lowest days does he find her craving the sweet treat, an unbelievably easy way to her heart.

So here he is, dipping fresh strawberries in melted chocolate on the morning of her birthday. Their flat is silent as Y/n sleeps in their bedroom, Harry borderline exhausted as he is now on his third hour of being awake, his second cup of coffee already brewing beside him.

But his excitement is stronger than his lack of sleep as he runs through the day in his head, a small smile toying on his lips for everything he has planned for her. After their morning spent in bed, he arranged a picnic for them to go on at their local park — the basket already prepared and filled with cheese and crackers, wine and grapes — tickets for an immersive art exhibit she’d been begging for him to take her to, and a reservation to Y/n’s favorite Italian restaurant later tonight.

He wanted to make her birthday something she’d never forget, simply because this is the first birthday they’ll be spending together and he doesn’t want to screw it up. But also because last night, Y/n had told him that she had spent her last four birthdays alone, and something about that small confession was enough for him to nearly tear his own heart out.

It’s been eating him up all morning — thinking about how sad she must have felt on the days she was supposed to be her happiest. Surely, he’s been through that feeling practically his entire life… but something about Y/n spending her birthdays alone physically pains him to think about.

His stomach twists and churns whenever his thoughts wander off to Y/n sitting at her favorite restaurant, celebrating at a table for one with a glass of wine and a cup of ice cream, with nobody for her to talk to. And for him to fathom the idea of her going home to an empty house and an even emptier bed, ending her night without receiving a single happy birthday text, as if it were no different than any other day, makes his chest cave into a pit of guilt for not being the one there with her.

He knows it’s not his fault, but there’s nobody else to blame and he’d much rather take the fall than for her to ever blame herself (which she already does — another confession that had also slipped out to him last night). He frowns a bit at the remembrance.

And the emotional turmoil his body undergoes thinking about her past makes him ache being so far away from her now. So he finishes the last couple of strawberries in a haste, swaps the batch he made earlier with the new batch out from the refrigerator, and plates the chocolate covered strawberries on a floral serving tray.

With one last look around the kitchen, he makes his way into their bedroom.

He smiles softly as he enters, Y/n snuggled with the covers under her chin, soft snores falling with each breath she takes, as beautiful as ever in her dream state.

He places the tray of chocolate covered strawberries quietly against the nightstand, careful not to wake her just yet, before sitting down on the bed beside her legs. He reaches his hand out to pet through her hair, watching as her nose scrunches and eyes blink open beneath his touch.

He leans down to kiss her, his lips resting gently on her forehead as he continues to run his fingers through her hair, growing a hint of a smile when she huffs and puffs to her morning wake.

He removes his lips from her skin, sitting himself back up to admire the view. It never fails to amaze him just how stunning she truly is. No matter the time of day or the mood she’s in, no matter how done up or how done down, she always manages to take his breath away and make him fall more in love.

She pouts tiredly at him, her eyes blinking as they adjust to the light. And he pouts back at her, his fingers rubbing at the edge of her jawline back and forth softly. “I’m so sorry, pretty, but I missed you.”

She softens a little at his words, her cheeks turning pink beneath his touch. “I missed you, too.”

He smiles a bit as he continues petting her, the silence between them affectionate and comfortable. And she pushes herself deeper into his touch, in absolute bliss.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

She hums, in awe at just how perfect he is. His chest is on display for her to see, his tattoos prominent against his skin and begging for attention. And his face… so soft, so sweet, so precious… she wants it all to herself, all day long.

“Why do you look so good right now?” She frowns, her oozing with lust as they soak him in. It feels as if she’s seeing him for the first time all over again.

“Shaved for you.” He leans down to kiss at her lips once, twice, three times before he sits up again, his expression blank but his eyes full of love. “For later.”

She whines, her hands gripping his arm and pulling him back down to her, the sight of him no longer enough as her watering mouth finds its home against his cheek. “How about for now?”

She’s being greedy and she knows it, but who could ever blame her? It’s her birthday and her only wish is for him to fill all of her senses, to hold her close until she’s in a world that belongs to just the two of them, to touch every single part of him.

Her lips are persistent against him, her fingers in his hair as she kisses and kisses and kisses the soft and smooth skin. And Harry indulges himself in her affections, enjoying it all too well even though it should be him drowning her with love.

“But I made you breakfast.” He tries, his walls crumbling as his voice wavers between his words because of course he’d rather be doing this, but today is about spoiling her rotten, not the other way around.

“How could I possibly want breakfast when you’re right here, shirtless and all clean shaven?” Her teeth graze at his jaw, as if taking a bite of him, growling at his taste. “So scrumptious right in front of me.”

His breath falters and weakens at her touch, the breath of her words sending a chill down his spine he can’t seem to shake off. And curse her for being so irresistible and knowing exactly what he likes, he never fails to give into her in a heartbeat. “But I made your favorite.”

“So that’s a no to morning birthday sex?” She raises her eyebrow at him, pulling away from him and stilling her movements.

“Absolutely not.” He argues plainly, gently pushing her back onto the mattress, his blank and nearly cold expression making her chest jump from within her. She loves how much he loves her beneath it all.

He strokes her cheek with the back of his finger, his lips linear and eyes darkening with endearment, admiring every inch of her face. And she can recognize that look anywhere — he’s going to make a mess out of her.

He reaches over to the night stand, grabbing one of the chocolate covered strawberries and dangling it over her mouth. “Just one bite for me.”

She opens her mouth for a taste, pushing herself up on her elbows to reach, craning her neck. But right before she could sneak a bite, Harry pulls it away from her, making her head tilt in confusion as he looks at her with hesitation.

Rather, he opens his own mouth, his teeth lodging into the stem end of the berry, ready for her to take. And he leans back down, Y/n’s eyes glistening at the idea as she meets him halfway. Her teeth sink into the hardened chocolate and through the juicy fruit, her lips meshing with his along the way. And they both let out a moan at the feel and taste of it, never having done anything quite like this before.

Harry leans back with the fruit stuck between his teeth, eyes fixating on her for just a moment longer before he turns his head and spits the stem onto the ground. And if Y/n wasn’t so infatuated by the filthy sight of it, she’d grimace at the thought of the juice leaving a stain on their perfectly clean hardwood floor… but how could she ever care when he’s about to make his mark on her?

She licks her lips up at him, slowly and seductively, humming at the sweetness.

His eyes darken at the angel splayed in front of him, ready to be touched and ruined by him. And something about the way she wanted this, craved this, starved for this — over the chocolate covered strawberries he had made with love, delivered to her side, ready to be devoured — even when she has it every day, makes him want this so much more… as if it were even possible.

“You just lay back and look pretty.” He instructs, his hand running down the length of her shirt (that’s technically his, but she wears it nearly every single night for bed and it always drives him wild whenever she does) and onto the plush of her thigh.

She squirms into his touch.

“And I will give you everything you ask for, m’birthday girl.”

-

Harry’s got his hands over Y/n’s eyes, carefully guiding her toward the kitchen — where he had dedicated his entire morning to make everything look perfect for her — as she giggles and squeals and tries to guess what he could have possibly surprised her with.

He laughs with every other step they take, biting teasingly at her shoulders whenever she makes more guesses, already feeling somewhat accomplished that he’s found a way to make her this happy.

He stops them at the entrance of the kitchen, where he kisses the back of her head. “Okay. Are you ready, baby?”

She nods excitedly, clapping her hands in anticipation. He counts to three, taking a deep breath in before releasing his hands from her eyes and settling them around her waist.

Her jaw drops at the sight of it.

Dozens of baby pink balloons floating around the kitchen, the table full of gifts in pastel colored bags, white streamers hanging from the walls, bouquets of flowers scattered throughout the mix. And never has Y/n seen something so thoughtful or so full of love, she can hardly believe that it’s all for her.

She never knew things like this existed.

“You did all this? For me?”

Harry kisses her head from behind, tightening his arms around her front and squeezing her to him, resting his chin against her shoulder.

His heart sinks whenever she doubts his intentions, always unsettled at the thought of her insecurities fooling her to believe she doesn’t deserve to be loved like this. Because she does and she always will, every day for the rest of her life, and he intends to remind her of that every day for the rest of his.

“Wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”

He gives her one last squeeze before releasing her, allowing her to roam free and look at everything he had to offer. And she seems tentative and wary at first, but with one soft and gentle push from Harry, she makes her way over to what he had laid out for her.

Her eyes dance between the gifts and the decorations, slightly overwhelmed at how much there is… she doesn’t know what to look at first. Everything is just so perfect — beyond anything she could ever imagine and better than anything she’s ever dreamed of.

But something in particular catches her eye — there, set on the middle of the table, are two glasses of mimosas with a note laid before them, reading ‘Cheers to you, my love, for being alive with me.’

Her stomach dances, heart falling at the words he wrote out for her. They’re so simple, yet quite possibly the most beautiful thing she has ever been told. She’ll be sure to smother him with kisses for it later.

She diverts her attention to the gifts, her fingers dance along the pastel bags, ruffling the tissue paper, gleaming at how much thought and time he must have put into everything. Because they are always together — at home, at work, on their days off — and yet he still found a way to make this day as special as he possibly could for her, leaving countless of surprises along the way.

“You spoiled me.”

He leans himself against the counter, his eyes never leaving her. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” He pauses, then, trying to find the right words. “I know I’m not always the most expressive when it comes to our relationship, so I like to make up for it whenever I can.”

Her lips fall into a pout, watching as her fingers fiddle around the corner of a tissue paper, her heart dropping at the insecurity laced within his words.

It breaks her in two whenever Harry doubts himself, always saddened at the thought of him never feeling good enough in their relationship despite everything he’s done for her. Because he goes above and beyond every single day, in ways she never even knew was possible, and it aches to feel all the weight he burdens himself with.

“H... that’s never something you have to worry about. You’re very expressive towards me.” Her hand falls to her thigh in defeat, her frown sinking deeper. “It kind of breaks my heart that you don’t see that.”

“No.” Harry says instantly, shaking his head as he makes his way towards her, his hands resting at her shoulders to bring her attention back towards him. “No broken hearts today. Just forget I said anything, okay? And instead...” He grabs a particularly small bag up from the sea of gifts, holding it out to her with hopeful and anxious eyes. “Open this.”

She looks up at him, her cheeks flushed and lips twitching into a smile. She grabs it from him slowly, a small and quiet thank you falling from her lips, suddenly shy under his watch.

Her hands shake as they remove the tissue paper from the bag, her eyes curious when they spot a black velvet box laid delicately inside. She reaches for it, placing the gift bag back on the table before looking back up to Harry, trying to read his expression.

She opens the velvet box and feels a certain tug on her heart she’s never once felt before, stuttering at the meaning of it.

“You got us matching rings?”

He nods, rolling his lips between his teeth. It’s his nervous habit — the subtlest form of one but the only external sign he’s in a situation he’s unsure about. But she can’t imagine how he could ever be unsure of something like this… it’s one of the most romantic things he’s ever done for her.

“Look on the inside of them.”

She takes her ring out of the box, gleaming at the silver band for a moment longer before flipping it to its inside, and she gasps again. Engraved with the most perfect cursive writing, read the words forever and always.

“I know how much you love my rings. You’ve made this really cute habit of fiddling with them before bed to help you fall asleep, and — and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but… I stopped wearing any on my left ring finger once you and I had gotten together.”

She did notice, of course, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions. Especially since she first noticed the morning after their first night together. She was in a trance as she watched his hands work each ring onto his fingers, one by one, precise and confident and effortless. He wasn’t even looking and that’s what made it so much more mesmerizing to her.

But it wasn’t until he reached his left ring finger that he hesitated, his fingertips skimming the skin there, as if in contemplation. And her eyebrows furrowed, even deeper when he proceeded to the next finger as if nothing peculiar had happened at all, the question on the tip of her tongue but swallowed down in seconds.

He hasn’t worn one there ever since.

“I know it’s stupid but, my rings mean a lot to me, you know? They all have their place and their reasons and it just — it felt wrong once you stayed the night because I’ve always had intentions on spending my life with you, I just didn’t think it would ever happen.”

Her eyes water as he speaks, feeling more loved and cherished than she ever has before. And there’s this sense of peace that washes over her knowing that he’s always seen himself with her, even before they had gotten together, because that’s all she had ever seen since the moment she laid eyes on him.

“I just don’t like that it’s so empty when my heart isn’t, so I figured this would be perfect for us.”

Y/n sniffles, holding back a sob as she nods her head. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

He smiles, his fingers gripping hers before taking the ring from her hand, holding it out to her. And he slips it onto her left ring finger, admiring the way it looks on her and drooling at the idea of them sharing something so sacred and promising together.

He kisses it.

And Y/n doesn’t hesitate to then take his ring out of the box, her stomach fluttering at the intimacy of it all as she slips the silver band on the only empty finger he has. It’s so real — the feeling of it all, seeing a token of his devotion to her out for the whole world to see.

“I love it so much, H.” She whispers, intertwining their hands together. “This is just… so much. All of this and you… it’s all so much. I love you so much.”

He pulls her to him, her lips so close to his he has no choice but to lay a kiss to them. But what was supposed to be slow and delicate ended as a mini makeout session — much like the ones they had in the break room at work, hidden behind closed doors, before they were much of anything besides two people absolutely desperate for each other.

“This is all I wanted.” Y/n whispers between their kisses, referring to the man she’s holding and loving and praising between her arms. “I got everything I wanted.”

Forever and always.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles preferences

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

So! Some things about THIS AU(art) I mentioned, that started out as simply a theory but I have ideas so here we go! ASLDKFMWE

(It's kinda hurt/no comfort vibe so if you don't wan't your soul possibly crushed-- sdkmfaowe)

So, one by one, each of the ninja (excluding Lloyd) sacrifice themselves in one way or another and became one with their element

As we saw in season 15 with Nya, they kinda… lose themselves. Their previous lives are more like distant memories, and they don’t see themselves as themselves anymore, but as their element, so there’s not much you can do for reasoning with them

When they become their element, they take on the main qualities of those elements

Nya becomes vast, she’s everywhere and anywhere, she’s free, she’s bottomless, she’s dark and colder than subzero, but also warm and beautiful. She can be a raging storm or a calm wave in a heartbeat. She does not think much for mortal lives aside from the ones she remembers caring for, even if she does not anymore

Cole becomes the earth. The earth is not nature. The earth is strong and steady, but it is docile for the most part. He, in a sense, becomes everything, so his form sleeps while he is everywhere and nowhere, lost in the sheer vastness that consumes him. The earth sleeps, but Cole is awake, so when he becomes one with it the earth wakes up, and that causes chaos. He remembered supporting, he remembers being supported. He remembers loving and living, but that is a spec of time, a moment compared to the lifetimes of the earth. Distant, inconsequential. He spares barely a thought

Jay becomes lightning. Pure, unadulterated energy. He moves faster than the speed of sound. Energy does not vanish, it simply changes form and every time he strikes the ground he forms again elsewhere and is impossible to pin down or find (almost). He has no thoughts aside from speed, and being drawn to metal, earth, conducted by water, he is above everything and everyone and feels nothing regardless of what he strikes, for he is never around to see or feel the consequences. He moves too fast for thoughts, for memories, for thinking

Zane… He is still. He is ice. Sub-zero temperatures follow him, they are him. Warmth is sucked out of everything as he expands and grows. Nothing can stop the cold. He is beautiful and you will be so mesmerized by it you will never feel the way your fingers numb and your heart slows as you freeze to death. Ice and cold simply are. They do not feel anything for what they take, they cannot. They simply are. Memories remain, but although they are crisp and clear, he feels nothing

Kai becomes fire. The desire to consume, to grow, to spread drowns out all else. It’s roaring, he is roaring and want’s to spread. He wants to burn and burn and consume. To burn whatever is in his path and leave ashes and new life in his wake. He is consumed, he will consume. He is hungry and eats and devours and cannot stop. He remembered warmth… family… but it’s far and distant compared to the raging inferno he has become, so he simply burns and burns and burns

Lloyd is left behind, losing each of his family one by one. He watches them lose themselves, so there’s barely a shadow, hardly an imprint of the people he used to know. And then what’s worse, is he watches them become something he must fight

Elemental Masters are powerful, Elements even more so. Together… uncontrollable, unbeatable. They become one and nothing can stop them from doing what they are. You cannot stop the earth from shaking. You cannot stop a storm. You cannot stop a forest fire that refuses to die. You cannot stop a frigid, icy wasteland from spreading

But Lloyd has to

So, with the help of Pixal and many others, he becomes their jailer

To keep his world safe, to keep hundreds of thousands of people safe, he locks his family away

He seals Cole in an endless sleep, for if he were to wake, the world would be shaken apart

He creates barrier and locks Jay in a single area that will become a forever raging storm

He does the same for Kai and he remains in a forest that burns forever, confined, imprisoned by someone he distantly remembers caring for. Now he feels only burning

Zane is the easiest, for as slow and as creeping as the cold spreads, it does not fight, it has never needed to. He locks him in the place that used to be his home. A place that is already cold and reinforces barriers to keep him there

I dunno… can’t really do anything about the sea honestly, and Nya’s pretty chill anyways. The sea isn’t interested in the land. It is the sea, why would it want to be anywhere else? *shrugs*

Lloyd locks them away. Once a year, he hikes from one prison to the other, to check on the spells and locks keeping them inside. He looks them in the eyes and can’t quite kill the hope every time that he might see a flicker of recognition in their eyes

He doesn’t

He goes from one place to another, and at the end of his journey he sits atop a cliff, lights a candle for a Kai. Sets down a glass of water for Nya. Places a well worn, smooth rock down for Cole. Sets some fully charged batteries for Jay. And uses his powers to keep a couple of ice cubes frozen in a plate for Zane

He sits with them and watches the sun set on another year

Hmm. This is pretty angsty l;KFMWA;EOGH

Anyway, that's all I have for this at the moment lol Have more angst I guess kmF;OAWHGWE

#KNOX WRITES (me) #NINJAGO #LEGO Ninjago #Angst #Hurt/No comfort #Pain :'D #Long Post #Elementals AU #Yeah #Gonna call it Elementals AU I think sdmfoawe

[hearthandhomemagick]

Cottage Witch Journal Entry - Self Love, Sex and Other Things That Just Feel....Naughty

It wraps around your senses like silk. That fire in your tummy that you simmer down so often with bland love making and insecurity. 

It flickers and licks at your edges, hoping to rub your skin raw with the passion you know you want to let out.

It’s in the music. RnB slowed down, on reverb, echoing through the rooms walls. The bass is pulsing through you as your fingertips seem to just caress your limbs. 

No one has ever touched you more intimately than you could in this moment. No one knows the dips of your curves, or the scars across your skin. No one can love all of you as deeply as you could right. now. 

Don’t swallow that flame. 

Let it rise out from your pelvic, allowing it to crawl through the depths of your soul and out from between those rose petal lips. Let your body move like a serpent, weaving through the smoke filled air and inhaling the thick, hot atmosphere. 

You are sexy, my love.

You are the sultry song whispering in their ear. You are the wine that drips from their collarbone, a drunken need, unsatisfied with anything less than every part of you. 

Baby, I feel it to.

I am a Queen in my body. A God born into the world, no one can resist the confident aroma that wafts from my neck and wrists. I am the drug that brings ecstasy, the dessert that fills your plate, and the water the flows through your veins. 

I have lived my entire life hoping and praying a man could one day love me in my entirety.

How could I have been such a fool. To blatantly ignore the one person I’m stuck with the rest of my life.

Me.

A man cannot complete the parts of me taken by others. For a man did not create me. I did. 

Read that again, if you must, before we move on. Make it your mantra and own your Queen energy before continuing forward. Now, this is my journey to self acceptance through sexual passion and searching for the confidence and courage to enjoy it all again. To enjoy myself. 

If you resonate, feel free to openly communicate your thoughts, or even offer encouragement to yourself, to others and so on. Self-Love is a process and we don’t have to go through it alone.

I will start this with less-than-sexy, ugly and raw truth I’m sure everyone can relate to.

I have struggled with body and mental insecurities all my life. 

Last week alone I had an episode where comparing myself to someone else lead my body to emptying it’s contents on command. 

I get in these ruts where I simply hate myself, as if my own worst enemy was the brain I had to live with every day. I have days where I see myself and am purely disgusted with the weight that hangs from my bones. Over time, days turn into weeks, weeks to months...and this causes build up of dishes, laundry and trash. A nasty, and depressed home.

To hate yourself is one of the hardest things a person can go through in life. To abhor the very skin you live in. To say something, only to immediately regret it and overthink it for hours to come. To feel like the intrusive thoughts are constantly winning, and you are failing. I feel that, and I fucking hate it, man.

Even now, I feel weak. I feel extremely...wrong. And every action I try to take simply overloads my brain even further.

An analogy so I may describe the way my personal turmoil feels. 

Imagine swimming naked in a river. The cool flow of water against your skin seems to add a youthful energy to your blood. You did this often, just swimming in the clear river around you. 

Overtime, you decide to rest somewhere near the bank, choosing on standing in ankle-deep water. The water is beautiful, clear and has a lot of fish in it. And the current just feels good against your toes while the Sun licks the water from your skin.

You decide to stay here for a moment, it’s muddy but lovely. You don’t even fully notice that the water is rising. You brush it off as nothing because of how slow it is rising, and how beautiful the surface of the water looks. But, soon enough it hits your knees. This doesn’t bother you so much, but it has made you a bit perturbed, so you try to move. You then have the horrifying realization that your ankles are now trapped in the mud from standing there so long. The water starts rising, gaining momentum and soon enough it has reached your lower spine and your knees are now sinking deep beneath the mud. 

That’s when you realize the water hasn’t just been rising, you have also been sinking. You have slowly started becoming consumed by the dark, now murky water. Heart racing, you try to wiggle your feet out, but every time you lift one foot, the other drifts further down under your weight.

The water hits your neck and you stop. You know if you move then you’ll go further down. So you stay still. You stay and you wait quietly. The pressure of mud colluding your body is overbearing, and yet you try to stay positive because at least your head is above water, right?

But, you’re suffocating. And no one is checking on you, because you have never needed to be checked on before. You’ve never had to ask for help before, either. But you. are. suffocating. And you can’t stop the slow progression of water and mud. You’re cold, but it’s hard to feel anything at this point. You want to cry, but moving sinks you further so you hold it in. 

You’re stuck. And alone to boot.

Suffocating under things that could have been noticed prior to the damage. Suffocating under the weight and burden that seems to snake around your limbs. I’m tired, cold and too scared to ask for help.

In this moment, I hurt. In this moment, I’m not myself and can’t seem to get out of this nasty place with myself.

But, Carly, my love. You are putting in the effort. You are trying and you are more than enough. Take a deep breath and take in this silent moment. Cry, if you must. Loosen your muscles and let yourself be vulnerable. 

This next part is for me. Feel free to skip out or not, quite frankly I don’t care. I need this for me more than anything. If you want to skip, move past the italicized love letter to myself. We will get right back to the raunchy here in a minute.

Carly, it’s time to heal.

You are wonderful. I know you feel gross right now, and that’s understandable. But you have to keep eating. You can’t stop yourself from eating, it will create side affects before it creates the body you are so badly attached to wanting. Your brain is full of thoughts and ideas and intrusive images. 

You feel as though you’ve lost yourself in some way or another. You feel like you’re being left behind, forgotten or disregarded.

When is the last time you did something for you? Not to please others, but simply to make your heart happy? When is the last time you meditated? When is the last time you expressed your feelings healthily? When is the last time you simply took a moment to fucking breathe, dude?

That’s right. You can’t remember. So stop the negative shit right this second. Stop manifesting the things you don’t want to happen and start manifesting what YOU WANT TO HAPPEN. 

I feel a deep rooted connection with the river right now, and I want to bathe naked there. I want to get lost in the woods somewhere and sit with my thoughts so I can organize them without people putting their thoughts and ideas into my life. I want to be away from everyone and simply...be.

You are enough. You work out almost every day now, and if you don’t work out you definitely try to be active to some degree. Be excited for where you are going, along with appreciating where you are and have been. And you also are hyper aware of your eating habits. Maybe, just maybe, you should give yourself some space to grow and heal, the same way you tell everyone else to.

Carly, I love your curves. Every inch of your skin has a story to be read and I can’t wait to analyze it with my fingertips. Your eyes sparkle with delight and a fiery passion, when you speak you have something to say. You are graceful, you accept everyone as they are and love so deeply and thoroughly. You want so badly to let everyone know they are appreciated, that you care, and that you are strong enough to carry both of you. But you need to reassure yourself that you can carry you. 

It’s hard, I know. But those negative thoughts are temporary. Keep your head above water, and choose to float to the surface rather than drown. Surrender to the current pulling you out of the mud, appreciate where you are and trust that you will accomplish whatever you need to when the time comes.

The art of not trying so hard. 

Lao Tzu wrote literature of many, discussing flow and the art of not trying. It’s a mental game that, if overthought, can and will lead to the opposite of your efforts. Just let it go and stop fighting everything, if you need help then say it only to the people you want help from. Don’t cut yourself short, everything in your life is 100% done for you not against you. So stop trying, and just live.

Now, that suffocating feeling. 

Fuck. That. Shit.

If you don’t choke me, I’ll devour your breath. I will make sure you feel every single centimeter of my passion and fire. 

To feel goosebumps under my lips, and know I’m leaving marks every time my nails rake the entirety of your back. I want him to smell sex seeped into the sheets, to wallow in the energy that is my pussy. 

As I go down on him, I want his head between my thighs. His mouth consuming my soul. 

I want to walk, and his hand to meet my ass with a sudden greeting. I want his hands to go up my thighs in public places. I want him to take me somewhere hidden and take advantage of my body. I want him to crave me as much as I crave his attention. 

I want to not think so low of myself, because I deserve better. I deserve more and should want more for myself.

I’ve been trying too hard.

I look back at my past self and wish only to ask, “Who hurt you this bad?”

Maturity. 

Maturity comes with a knowing of ones self and having a sense of self control while recognizing you cannot control others. It is confidence in standing alone. Maturity is what you should aim for. 

You need to know who you are, and be absolutely positive of it. Stand confidently in your skin. Stop letting that shy shit get to you, it only holds you back from greatness.

Find your balance in maturity. You deserve that peace of mind. Appreciate where you are going, where you are, and where you have been. You’ve done so much already.

#weight #weightloss #anime #journalentry #witch #witchcraft #thinspo #fitspo #hearth #love #selflove #sexy #tantalizing #attractive #magick #home #comfortable #confident #mature #understood #self-control #selfawareness

[rwby-diaries]

Happy birthday Ruby!

Our most adorable shooting star is up! Ruby was born on October 31st (kept from CRWBY canon)! She came into the world just a pink little thing, and she stole everyone’s hearts with just one look. Her family loves her so much and so do we!

Line Art by: @bosiphas

Colour by: @data-plays-viola

Ficlet by: @lameclub

Edited by: @bosiphas @yang-diary @data-plays-viola and @thetopazvulpix

Ficlet under the cut!

“Happy birthday Ruby!’’ Different voices all cry out in unison as Ruby stands there with her eyes big and wide.

“You guys shouldn’t have!’’ She says awkwardly - causing Yang tomorrow her eyes and smirk in her direction.  

“Jaune spilled the beans, didn’t he?’’

Ruby scoffs loudly, “Whaaat? How could you possibly assume that our good, kind-natured friend Jaune--’’

“You don’t have to defend me, Ruby. It’s pretty obvious,’’ Jaune says while scratching the back of his head with an embarrassed smile. Weiss rolls her eyes as she walks over, taking Ruby’s arm and leading her in the other direction.

“You can count yourself out of the next surprise party,’’ Weiss says with a pointed look back at Jaune. Ruby giggles before turning around to better keep up with her friend. They begin to approach a round table not that far from them - causing Ruby to let out a giant gasp.

The table is decorated with many different trays of sweets and baked goods - carefully placed in order of colour and type. Ruby turns back towards her friends.

“You didn’t have to do all of this!’’ she says with a big smile on her face as her eyes well up with tears.

Nora giggles, "Ren spent the last two nights making sure every cupcake was perfect, didn't ya buddy?"

Nora finishes the question with a poke to Ren’s ribcage and a smile. Ren looks down at her with a puzzled look on their face, "You only turn 15 once - I don't see why I should hold back." Yang shakes her head as she leans on their shoulder with a smirk.

“We aren’t making fun of ya bud! No need to be self-conscious about the amount you made.

“Anyways,” Yang adds with an even bigger smirk, “Nora’s bottomless pit she calls a stomach will probably eat half of this in like an hour.”

Ruby giggles as she takes a single cupcake and, without an ounce of hesitation, bites into it. The sweetness burst to life in her mouth, causing them to hum in appreciation. “Oh! This is so good Ren, maybe the best thing I’ve ever eaten!’’ She exclaims as she quickly devours the rest of her sweet.

Yang whistles, “That’s a bold statement - considering we grew up around the self-proclaimed 'Best Cook in all of Remnant' - Uncle Clover.’’

Ruby blinks for a few seconds before she laughs in response. “Listen, both are on the same level as the other - actually this reminds me of my 13th birthday,’’ Ruby says happily as she finds herself becoming more distant and lost in thought.

~~~

"Uncle Qrowwww!" Ruby shouts as she jumps onto his arms; he catches and holds her up with ease. "I can't believe I get to spend my birthday with both you and Uncle Clover!" Her eyes sparkle as her legs dangle back and forth mid-air.

"How was the ferry ride from Patch? Hope it wasn't too scary to travel on your own." Qrow questions with a head tilt which only causes Ruby to scoff in response.

"You're talking to a future huntress here, Uncle Qrow - a little boat ride wasn't gonna scare me," Ruby says with a big smirk on her face before she continues "Besides I barely ever get to see you guys these days and no way was I going to spend my birthday alone!"

Qrow chuckles as he affectionately ruffles their hair. "Oz decided to let me have a free weekend. Coincidentally, Mr. Tin Man  felt the same for Clover," he smiles as she jumps back down to the ground.

"Tin man?"

Before Qrow could respond to her inquiry - the front door swings open and another voice is heard. "So, our favourite lil' whirlwind is here already?" Clover says with a smirk as he leans on the doorframe. Ruby lets out a squeal as she zips across the front lawn and practically leaps into her uncle's chest, knocking the man back a couple of feet.

"Uncle Clover, it's been so long!" Ruby cries out as they hug him tightly and Clover smiles warmly down at her. As she drops back down and takes a step back, she can barely contain her excitement, frantically patting her legs. Clover takes a few seconds to recover from the intensity of Ruby's hug, then looks down at her with a proud smile.

"I swear you've grown an inch or two since I last saw ya!" He exclaims with a short gasp - inspecting them closely.

Ruby giggles, "It's actually just my new boots," she explains as she shows them off proudly which causes Clover to whistle into admiration. Ruby pauses for a moment and gestures for their uncle to come closer, the other doing just that, as they stretch up to his ear in a stealthy fashion.

"But if anyone else asks - I finally had my growth spurt." Ruby whispers.

Clover takes a second to process that before he snorts and stands back up, "Your secret is safe with me munchkin." He finishes with a wink and ruffles their hair.  Ruby let's out a playful grunt as she frantically goes to fix her hair back to the way she liked it just as Qrow approaches from behind them.

"I'm gonna pop these bags up to your room, squirt, and then I hafta check on your birthday surprise," Qrow explains as he easily picks up and carries in her assortment of different backpacks and cases. "Why dontcha join your uncle in the kitchen?" He suggests with a smirk towards Clover - who beams brightly in return. Ruby nods enthusiastically and takes hold of Clover's arm.

"Yesss come on Uncle Clover, time's a wastin!" They cry out as they tug Clover in the direction of the kitchen which has her uncle laughing warmly; allowing for his nibling to drag him in the direction she wanted to go.

"We'll see you soon babe - shoot me a text when everything's ready!"  Clover shouts back towards Qrow and the other nods in agreement.

As the duo separated themselves from Qrow - they enter into the kitchen. The whole room was rather neatly kept - totally unlike Ruby’s kitchen at home, which often fell victim to plates and dishes piling up, especially if it was just Ruby and her dad.

On the table in the middle, there was a variety of different baking utensils and ingredients - all neatly sorted and ready to be used. Ruby gasps loudly as they sprint into the room, admiring her surroundings with great excitement.

Clover trails in not far behind the other and chuckles softly, "I was going to have the cake and everything else ready for you, but I remembered how much you love to bake, so I waited to make the cupcakes."  He tells them while watching the young kid take in the sight before them with big eyes.

"Always! Just because it's my birthday doesn't mean I don't want to make badass cupcakes-" Ruby stops herself when she realises what she let slip past her mouth and clears her throat. "Doesn't mean we can't make awesome cupcakes," they correct themself with an innocent smile. Clover rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore that in favour of wanting Ruby to enjoy her birthday.

"Anyways! We should get started - would you like to do the honours?" Clover says as he passes her the bowl of butter and Ruby nods in a dramatic fashion. As she dumps its contents into the mixing bowl before her, her uncle pours some casting sugar in before presenting Ruby with the whisk.

"Use it wisely, young one." Clover says.

Ruby gasps while taking it carefully and nodding, "I won't let you down good sir." She tries to keep up the serious demeanor but she couldn't contain the giggles that were building up deep down. As they begin to whisk the ingredients together, Ruby starts to ponder on a few things.

She was excited beyond belief about spending her birthday with her uncles - it was a rare sight when both of them could attend. But… there were small things that were nagging at Ruby and refusing to let go. Their sudden quietness immediately catches her uncle's attention, who then turns to face her.

“Something on your mind?” Clover asks in a gentle tone - completely surprising Ruby who lets out a tiny yelp. It didn't take her long to recover from that sudden question as Ruby looks down at the mix and sighs.

“I'm happy to be here with both you and uncle Qrow but… It's my first birthday without Yang.” Ruby speaks very quietly as she slows to a halt and their hair falls onto her face - hiding her true expression. Clover watches with soft eyes as he lowers himself down to her level.

"I know how hard it must be with Yang being on that school trip and your dad being busy," Clover starts in a gentle tone while pushing Ruby's fringe back once more, "but trust me when I say you're going to have a great birthday with the most awesome surprise."  He gives her a big smile as the words seem to do the job of cheering her up. Ruby's expression lights back up and they wipe their eyes

"Thank you Uncle Clover," she says with a lopsided smile. Clover laughs as he kisses her forehead and stands back up - the pair returning to their tasks.

"So uncle Clover - a birthday surprise huh?" She asks with a sly smile.

Clover glances down for a moment before chuckling to himself, "You got that right." He doesn’t elaborate further, simply gesturing for her to stop the whisking for a moment. As he adds a small tablespoon of vanilla extract, while Ruby's curiosity reaches an all time high.

"I wonder what it could be - maybe a mega awesome present-"

Clover laughs, "Ruby I know you have long figured out I'm the weak link when it comes to surprises," he says with a side glance down towards the kid.

Ruby giggles. "Yeah I found out when you accidentally told Yang that dad was considering the motorcycle license-"

Clover hushes them with a small laugh, "Which your dad never ever lets me live down."

"But I promised your uncle I wouldn't breathe a word of it - so will a simple reassurance that you will love it suffice?" Clover asks.

Despite the desire to know brewing deep down within Ruby - she understood this was something super important to keep a secret. With a sigh, she finishes her whisking and nods in agreement. Clover pats her on the head

"Not much longer now," he says while taking the bowl away.

"Now remember - 15 minutes in the oven or you'll burn them!" Ruby calls as Clover goes to fill the pre-prepared cupcake pan with the batter.

Clover scoffs,"You're talking to the 'Best Baker in all of Remnant' here Ruby. I ain't about to let these cupcakes burn on my watch!"

After the batch has been fully cooked and decorated, Clover's scroll finally dings on the counter loudly. Ruby's head perks up.

"Is that Qrow telling us everything is ready?!" They ask while frantically patting the table.

Clover laughs, "Let's see." He walks over and picks the device up. After being silent for a few seconds, the man looks back up and smiles. "We have to head out back."

Ruby follows behind her uncle enthusiastically - as he leads them down the hallway.

Excitement was thrumming all throughout Ruby's body as they got closer and closer to their destination. About a dozen different scenarios were rattling around in their head at once - but they just couldn't come to a solid conclusion. Was it a new cape? Maybe they're getting a super cool motorcycle too?! Clover stops before the backdoor and turns to Ruby.

"Close your eyes buddy," he tells her with a big smile. Ruby did exactly as she was told and soon after did they feel Clover gently take their arm and begin to lead her forward.

Ruby could feel the cool breeze of the outside world as they were continued to be led by her uncle - the shuffling of feet could be heard too. After a few seconds, Clover orders her to stop and she does just that.

"Can I open my eyes now?!" They exclaim, growing more impatient by the second.

Clover laughs, "You can now."Ruby's eyes flutter open. After taking a moment to adjust to the sudden sunlight - Ruby focuses her gaze right ahead of her, letting out a huge gasp at the sight before their eyes.

"Happy birthday Ruby!"

Different voices yell in unison, coming noth only from her Uncle Qrow, but also from her dad and sister, standing next to Qrow with huge matching grins. Ruby begins to bounce on the spot before jetting across the grassy garden.

"Oh my gosh!" They yell, tackling all their family in one swift motion, everyone being knocked to the ground by the force of it. Everyone laughs wildly as Yang and Tai embrace Ruby.

"You said you guys couldn't make it!" They say with tears in her eyes and Yang swiftly wipes them away, a soft smile on her face.

"You didn't think I'd miss your big birthday bash, did ya sib?"

Tai nods, "I decided to get off work early and Yang finished up her Huntsfolk Observation Trip quicker than expected." The trio finally stand back up and Tai his head tilts in Qrow's direction before continuing.

"Qrow managed to pull some strings to make sure we were all here," he says with a smirk.

Yang scoffs, "I had to make sure these old timers were doing your birthday right." She gives both Tai and Qrow a smug grin. Tai playfully jabs his daughter in the ribs and Yang snorts in response.

Ruby's face lit up - not sure how to react. Tai's face softens for a moment as he turns back around to pick up an item he dropped when they fell, picking up a small book with a pink bow neatly placed on top of it.

"I wanted you to have this. We all spent the last week getting all the pictures printed and organized." He explains in a quiet tone while placing the book into Ruby's hands.

Ruby stares at it, seeing the words 'Ruby's Birthday' printed on the top stirred emotions deep down. Everyone crowds around them with supportive looks which encourages Ruby to open the book, letting the pages fall open somewhere around the halfway point.

As Ruby looks down at the page, she could see Yang holding their baby self with the help of Tai, her older sister’s eyes wide with wonder.

"Yang insisted that she held you the moment she laid eyes on you," Qrow chuckles fondly.

Yang gives a quick snicker in response, "I just knew how awesome my baby sibling was the moment I saw them," she says while ruffling Ruby's hair and the other pushes her off with a smile.

"What is it with all this hair ruffling today?!" Ruby asks with giggles sprinkled in between words.

As they flip backwards to the previous page, they see two pages of Qrow and Clover holding them as a baby as well.

"Clover of course, had to make a luck pun," Qrow says with a smirk in his husband's direction and the other stuck his tongue out playfully.

"So nothing much has changed between now and then?" Ruby points out which causes everyone else to laugh alongside them. Ruby turns the page further back towards the front of the book, seeing a picture of Tai.

"I remember when your mother went into labour - I quickly ran back into our room to specifically get that shirt," Tai explains with a short laugh, pointing at the red ‘#1 Dad’ shirt in the picture.

Clover scoffs, "You were planning that gag ever since Summer became pregnant too."

Tai waves him off “I’m the embarrassing father - I have an image to maintain!’’ He laughs and Ruby snorts in response  - looking up at her dad with happy eyes. After a moment, Ruby’s attention once again falls back to the book before them - as they flip to the first page of the book and Ruby finds herself growing silent.

Tai looks down at them with sad eyes as he places his hand on her shoulder "She wasn't scared at all when she was pregnant with you - I was more frightened than her." That comment has Ruby look up to her dad with a sad smile as she let him continue.

"She did everything in her power to make sure you were brought into the world safely and surrounded by love," he explains as everyone around them watched on in a wistful way "Your mom loved you so much Ruby. Every moment she spent with you was everything she could've hoped for."

That was what brought on the tears - as Yang and Ruby both found themselves starting to cry. Everyone  then closed in for a group hug. Nobody moved for a few moments, just choosing to instead enjoy each other's presence in total serenity.

"One last thing," Yang says with a smile as she pulls back and taking out a small camera. "Every year me and Ruby take a picture together for their birthday," she explains as she gestures for everyone to squeeze together "And this is the first time we've all been together in a long long time."

Yang places the camera on the nearby picnic table and sets a timer "Everyone says cheese!" She cries out while rushing over just in time as everyone screams out that word excitedly. The camera clicks with a flash and everyone starts to giggle. Qrow gives Ruby a quick pat on the head.

"Now let's dig into some birthday cake, shall we?" He suggests and Ruby gasps loudly.

"Birthday person gets the first slice!" She exclaims as she zips over in a burst of petals.

~~~

“That’s such a sweet story Ruby,’’ Pyrrha says with a warm smile on her face and placing her hands on top of heart in a fond manner. “Would you like to take a picture with all of us?’’

That question easily catches Ruby’s attention as her eyes go wide, “Oh my gosh yes! I’d love nothing more,’’ they say while jumping on the spot and clasping her hands together. “It’ll show off our awesome costumes too. I dont have one good birthday photo in Halloween costumes, and I’ve almost always had a Halloween birthday.’’

Weiss raises an eyebrow “Ruby, you were born on Halloween, every year is a Halloween birthday." Yang hushes Weiss with a playful push.

“You can survive one night without making a sassy remark Ice Queen,’’ she teases which obviously irritates the other but after a moment, Weiss takes in a deep breath and seemingly composes herself.

“Does anyone have a camera then?’’ Weiss asks.

Everyone looks around at each other before shrugging and Nora groans, “Where’s Velvet when ya need her.” . Blake’s head perks up as she takes out her scroll and gestures to it.

“It’s not as traditional, but I think your scroll could work.’’ She says with a small smile.

Yang’s face lights up “Once again - Blake is here with the big brain,’’ she says with a wink which in turn causes Blake’s cheeks to flush red and she looks down at the floor with a tiny smile. Ruby takes out her device and beams brightly.

"Everybody squeeze in - I’m pretty short,’’ she says loudly and everyone begins to crowd in around them, all trying their best to get in level with the camera. With a bit of effort, Ruby manages to hold the scroll as high she possibly could and she gives a big smile.

“Everyone say cheese!’’ She yells and everyone screams that word at the same time.

A flash on the scroll lights up the room before Ruby lowers it down - inspecting the picture that was taken. As they look at the photo, tears begin to well up in their eyes and she sniffles lightly.

Yang glances down with a fond look on her face and pats Ruby lightly on the head, “All good Rubes?’’ Ruby wipes her eyes and nods frantically.

“It’s everything I could’ve hoped for.’’

#rwby #rwby v8 #rwby volume 8 #ruby rose #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #yang xiao long #clover ebi #qrow branwen #weiss schnee #Blake Belladonna #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #team RWBY #team JNPR #fair game #fairgame #rwby fic #rwby art #rwby rewrite #rwby rewritten #post #canon #bo

[caravaggiosbrushes]

ah thank you!! here's a prompt if it interests you: modern au genderfluid james fitzjames. special points if it's fitzier too :) james fitzgender

here i finally am!! ok so this was inspired by this art and james uses they/them here.

in my humble opinion we need more of the following things in this fandom: 1) daddy kink 2) genderfluid/genderqueer james 3) lesbian fitzier. I provided the first two here. 

also for my @theterrorbingo prompt “pillow princess”

hope you like it! thank you for the prompt :-)

Raiting is explicit. Tags: daddy kink, handjob, fingering, 69, and genderfluid james of course

-

The house is quiet when Francis gets home, except for some soothing music that seems to come from the bathroom. James is nowhere to be seen, not splayed on the couch nor in their studio where Francis usually finds them when he comes home after work. Curious to see where they are, he follows the music and it indeed brings him to the bathroom, so he knocks at the door, “James?”

It takes a moment to get an answer and when it comes, is a slurred one: “Mn’come in.”

Francis opens the door and is greeted with the wonderful vision of his partner utterly relaxed in the bathtub, only their head and shoulders peeking from the soapy foam they’re sinked in. The music comes from their iPhone, propped on the sink.

James smiles dreamily at Francis, letting the back of their head rest on the tub, his eyelids heavy, movements slow and slack, as if they were about to fall asleep right there in the tub. 

That would be such a James thing, Francis thinks with a smile.

"Hi, love." He leaves a kiss on the top of James' head, on their wet hair. There’s a comforting warmth coming from their body and the water.

"Hey." James greets him, pleasantly surprised even if sleepy. They prop one elbow on the edge of the tub, pushing themselves out of the water a bit, wonderfully at ease and uncaring of the soapy foam slowly gliding down their chest. "You're early."

"I missed you."

James scoffs softly, arching an eyebrow at him. 

Francis chuckles and sits on the edge of the tub. "Alright, we wrapped it up earlier than expected, thanks to Jopson. But still. I missed you."

James tilts their head up, looking at him with a little smile.

"Is that so?"

Francis knows James knows it's the truth. They both miss each other terribly when they’re not together, almost ridiculously incapable of being apart.

"Yes, my dear." Francis says with an affectionate smile.

James licks at their lips, tilts their nose high up and lets their knees fall apart against the sides of the tub. "Show me."

This is such a James thing, too.

Francis doesn't need any more encouragement. 

First, he can't resist kissing James, never can, so he places his hands on the tub at the sides of their head and just leans over them like that for a moment to make James feel both caged and protected (it works well, for James' gaze immediately falls on his mouth and their breath falters) then kisses them slow and deep, making them sigh on his lips. 

Francis sucks at their bottom lip and James squirms in the water, sensitive to every touch, as always. He smiles on their lips, pleased, and brings a hand in the water, searching for something of James to touch. He finds a knee, with skin smooth and soft as a peach.

"You shaved." He whispers, caressing his hand on James' calf. 

It’s not the first time James does it, but it’s not even something they do all the time, so it still feels like a novelty, a nice surprise.

"Yes." James simply says, in a puff of air, "For a change."

"Let me see." 

It's not a question. James quickly licks at their lips before nodding minutely and bends the leg Francis has his hand on, so that only their knee and lower part of the thigh are out of the water, the rest safely covered by the foam.

Francis bends forward and leaves a kiss on James’ knee, who seems incapable of tearing their eyes away from him.

"Only your legs?" Francis asks, caressing the top of their thigh.

James slowly shakes their head, keeping eye contact. Their chest raises heavily under their breaths and Francis knows he'd find them hard if he were to move his hand higher.

He doesn't.

Not yet.

Instead, he slowly caresses James' leg on the exposed skin and under the water too, until he’s cupping their ankle, the arch of their foot. James wrinkles their nose adorably and pulls away, hiding back under the water.

“Ticklish.” They whisper.

Francis plushes his hand under the water again and searches for their hand this time, bringing it up and kissing the knuckles.

"You still haven't told me," he says on James’ skin, "Where else have you shaved?"

James brings more of the foam to cover themselves with their free hand, almost trying to gather all of it in front of their chest. Then, they steal the hand Francis is kissing, wrapping the arm behind their head. The movement has James’ nipples peek from over the edge of the water and Francis is very careful not to mention it, wanting to drink in the wonderful picture before him, of his partner looking so soft, yet aroused and playful.

What James has uncovered by raising his arm is the smooth, hairless arch of an armpit, a pale curve Francis is tempted to follow with the tip of his nose. 

(He won't, solely because he knows James is ticklish there as well.)

What he does is stroking the smooth skin of James' leg, hooking his hand on the back of their thigh, just above the knee. James bites at their bottom lip and tries to push their legs even wider apart, as if they could overcome the edges of the tub.

Francis suddenly realises that he’s half hard and he’s going to be fully hard in a minute if they’re gonna keep this up. He hopes they will, he’s ready to sacrifice his pants and underwear if it means he gets to keep watching his James being lovely and sexy like this.

"You look very pretty." He praises them, "You'd look very pretty in your light-blue bralette and panties too."

James moves their other hand in the water, caressing their own chest, the movement barely concealed by the foam. 

"You think so?" They ask, playing shy. They’re far from being shy, Francis knows it, but sometimes James likes to act as if they were a little inexperienced boy or a curious little girl. Francis finds it impossible to resist it.

"I have no doubts." He says, letting his hand wander higher on James’ thigh, "Why don't you try them on for me, later?" 

James nods, breathless. "Okay."

When they play this game, there’s something else James especially loves to do, something that Francis enjoys so much simply because he does it with James.

"Okay, what?" He asks, almost nose to nose with them.

"Okay," James gapes, then swallows, their face flushed deep as they whisper, "Okay, daddy." 

It's taking every single ounce of Francis’ self-control not to jump in the tub and devour them like this. 

He moves his hand from the water to cup the side of James’ face, who buries their face in it with a heavy sigh that ends in a groan.

"Good boy." 

James bites lightly at his thumb with a full groan this time, "Francis."

"Anywhere else you shaved yourself, sweetheart?"

James nods. Their pupils are huge. God, they must be so hard, just a touch away from Francis’ hands, from his mouth, but the best part of this is that the more they keep it up, the better it is, so Francis swallows his own saliva and keeps playing.

"I wonder where." 

In answer, James gives him a sly smile and slides down the tub a bit more, as if trying to make Francis follow them. 

Francis does, leaning over him as he can, uncaring of the sleeves of his shirt getting wet.

"Did you make yourself all nice and pretty?"

James’ gaze gets a bit unfocused at that. Their breath is heavy on Francis’ lips. They nod.

"Yes?”

James nods again, looking like they could say yes to everything Francis might ask of them. They blush even further when they say, “Everywhere.” 

Francis lets his hand brush up until it gets to the crease of James’ thigh. Indeed the skin is smooth here too, like velvet.

"All lovely and clean so I can eat you out nicely?" 

James nods urgently, baring their teeth like an animal in heath.

Francis finally takes them in hand and James whimpers, melting against the tub, closing their eyes.

Francis kneels on the floor and pushes his face in James’ neck, whispering, "Got your cunt all pretty for me?"

James’ entire body has a spasm at that, making water splashing around, but none of them notice. They groan and push a hand in Francis' hair.

"Touch me," they say, or order, more likely, "Francis, daddy— ah." 

James is completely bare wherever Francis touches him, inviting like an angelic being, their hard cock gorgeous in his hand. He sucks a bruise on their neck and James writhes, making the water sloshing over the edges of the tub. Francis realises his shirt is half soaked with soap and water at this point, but he couldn’t care less.

"Do you want to finish like this?" He asks on James’ lips, stroking them slowly, "And later again on my mouth?"

James whines and cants his hips up, fucking themselves in Francis' hand.

“Yes— Francis,” he pants, “Yes, daddy, please.”

"God, James." He groans, looking at how they’re moving to chase their pleasure, "Like that, baby."

James is so lovely flushed like this, water sloshing around them with their movements and Francis can't resist licking at his pinked cheeks, as if he could taste their pleasure on his tongue. 

"Make me come now," James says, "And later."

"On my tongue."

"Yes." They say, "I want to— can I sit on your face?"

"Jesus Christ, of course you can." Francis swears, keeping up the rhythm of his strokes.

James smiles dreamily on his lips, “It’s gonna feel so good, you’re— ah, fuck, I'm close," suddenly, they grab Francis’ wrist: "Give me your fingers?"

Francis really doesn’t want to come in his pants here, kneeling on the bathroom floor next to the tub with his clothes half soaked through, but James is making it hard to resist the temptation.

He kisses them hard and pushes the tip of his index finger bluntly into them. James lets the back of their head fall on the edge of the tub again, closing their eyes in an ecstatic expression and bringing a hand under the water to touch themselves. Francis easily recognizes the movement, knowing all too well what James looks like when they play with their cock and chest, from all the times they’ve touched themselves under Francis’ gaze and instructions. 

It only takes James a minute to finish, hiding their face in Francis' chest with a heavy sigh of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet moan.

Francis doesn't stop fingering them even once their orgasm has subsided, James’ body clenching around him.

"I'm gonna stop solely because I'm gonna get a cramp in my hand," he groans after a while, smiling on James' smile, "But as soon as you're out and dry, we're gonna keep going."

James eyes the bulge in his pants, "Oh, yes."

In the end, Francis doesn’t leave James time to either wear the light-blue set nor get themselves dry before they end up on each other again, because he’s so very close, so he just takes James to bed, brings them over him, lets them find the most comfortable position and finally puts his mouth on them, pushing his nose on their tailbone and filling his mouth with them while James closes their lips around his aching erection with a whimper, arching their back to thrust themselves on Francis’ tongue, thighs shaking. James’ hair is still wet and droplets of water slide down their back until they reach the crease of their ass where Francis licks and sucks them on his tongue, as if they were part of James’ essence too.

When they both finish, James is so slack and undone they almost fall asleep on Francis, nuzzling their face on his thigh.

“You’re comfortable. Be my pillow.” They mutter, making no attempt to move. Francis bites at the inside of their thigh, making them yelp.

“I may work well as a pillow, but you’re too pointy, love.” Francis can’t stop smiling, happily sated as he is, with James finally turning around and burying themselves under the covers and their face in Francis’ hair, all with their eyes closed, so Francis kisses both their eyelids and turns around in their arms, falling asleep in no time.

.

.

.

( Leave me a prompt and I'll eventually write you a short fic! )

#ask #anon #my writing #fitzier #francis crozier #james fitzjames #the terror #fanfic #eeeeeeeEEEEE #the terror amc

[soracities]

a vore kinkster, i see now

I don’t know if you’re new to this blog but on the off chance you are please bear in mind that my often v theatrical and ridiculous levels of excitement in the tags sometimes need to be taken…not literally.

Also while I have no interest in actually consuming another human being let’s not ignore the fact that the endless links and parallels (literary, philosophical, religious) that can be drawn between desire / devotion and consumption are not incredibly varied and fascinating.

Food and love? Intimately linked, literally; from the moment we’re born, our very first meal is an inseparable union of food and love: it is warmth, security, connection, fullness and satiety, all in one gesture. It is our ‘welcome to earth’. It’s a memory that, I think, carries over into everything. Anyone who has spent any time around babies or young children knows (with a great deal of panic) that their primary method of exploration, without fail, is to put literally everything in their mouth. It becomes a way to measure the world.

from Natalia Andrievskikh’s ‘Food Symbolism, Sexuality, and Gender Identity in Fairy Tales and Modern Women’s Bestsellers’

It is also echoed by Levinas:

“This sinking one’s teeth,” he writes “into the things which the act of eating involves above all measure the surplus of the reality”

Simone Weil:

Hunger is a yardstick. Food is unifying. We make peace by ‘breaking bread’, by sharing a toast. Countless cultures the world over but every single one of them shares that. Eating together is communion.  Cooking together an even more intimate communion, taking forkfuls from your own plate to feed someone else? It’s what newlyweds do with the first slice of cake. In Amharic you commonly urge someone to take the food you offer them  with “bemote”–  if you don’t take this I’ll die. It is, literally, a life-giving gesture. It’s one of the most generous forms of tenderness I know.

Little babies and animals are so cute and impossibly adorable we want to ‘eat them up’ (there’s science behind it: it’s called dimorphus expression, or Cute Aggression. Similar sentiments include: desire to pinch, squash, crush. It’s essential to keeping us balanced–also alive.)

“Oh, please don’t go — we’ll eat you up — we love you so!” say Maurice Sendak’s Wild Things.“Please don’t go, I’ll eat you wholeI love you so, I love you so, I love you soPlease don’t go, I’ll eat you wholeI love you so, I love you so, I love you so, I love you so” echo alt-j, over and over like an incantation in ‘breezeblocks’

and while we’re on Sendak:

Anne Carson, too

Meaning, in order to be made, must be devoured. We ‘drink in’ words, we ‘digest’ and absorb and ‘savour’ them. Artists, I think, do it almost pathologically. There is hunger - hunger for what? That could be anything, but the point is: the hunger is there -  and when the art is true it is fueled by devotion, fueled by near maddening, impossible love.

“My reading a kind of eating,” says Li-Young Lee in ‘The Cleaving’, “My eating a kind of reading.”

and again:

“What is it in me would / devour the world to utter it?  What is it in me will not let / the world be, would eat / not just this fish, / but the one who killed it, / the butcher who / cleaned it. […] would eat it all / to utter it.”

and again:

And as for thee language used to describe sexual desire: the language of hunger, unequivocally: someone’s ‘thirsty’, you ‘eat them out,’ sexual appetite is voracious, insatiable, unquenchable. Anything less feels flat, lukewarm, insincere and, most notably, inaccurate. Love, says Sylvia Plath “gnaws [us] through”.

The list is endless. I don’t want to go on and on; there are others far more talented who have put it far better than I could:

The entirety of Helene Cixous’ ‘Love of the Wolf’ for a start:

“For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat. The person we hate we ‘can’t swallow.’ That one makes us vomit. Even our friends are inedible. If we were asked to dig into our friend’s flesh we would be disgusted. The person we love we dream only of eating. That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence. The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption. At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching. Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up. Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me. Sign my death with your teeth.”

and also

and while we’re on that, Simone Weil:

“The great trouble in human life is that looking and eating are two different operations…Children feel this trouble already, when they look at a cake for a long time almost regretting that it should have to be eaten and yet are unable to help eating it. It may be that vice, depravity and crime are nearly always, or even perhaps always in their essence attempts to eat beauty, to eat what we should only look at. Eve began it. If she caused humanity to be lost by eating the fruit, the opposite attitude looking at the fruit without eating it, should be what is required to save it.”

There is Angela Carter (The Erl-King):

and again:

Han Kang, (The Vegetarian):

“He held her at the waist and stroked the mark, wishing he could share it with her, that it could be seared into his skin like a brand. I want to swallow you, have you melt into me and flow into my veins.”

Catherynne M. Valente (from Deathless):

see also:

“ I said: I could be a wolf for you. I could put my teeth on your throat. I could growl. I could eat you whole.” (from The Bread We Eat in Dreams)

Robin Coste Lewis, (’Plantation’):

Kenneth Rexroth (’When We With Sappho’):

Kim Addonizio’s ‘First Kiss’ in which the topography of hunger and desire is quietly drawn full circle:

Oscar Wilde (Salomé):

Maram al-Massri (Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor):

Maggie Nelson (Bluets, 206):

“[…] it became clear that I would lose you, or that I had already lost you, that you were “etched into my heart”– I may not have known then that “etch” derives from etzen or erzjan–to be eaten–but in the days since I have come to know the full meaning of the root.”

Li-Young Lee (’The City in Which I Love You’):

Food and desire frequently overlap in Shakespeare’s Othello: the language of sexual desire is, as always, the language of the feast – Desdemona is “honey”, “palate of my appetite”, “food [..] luscious as locusts”. According to Iago she will  “begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor.”

there’s Jeanette Winterson (Written on the Body):

and Marguerite Duras (Hiroshima Mon Amour):

and this stunning excerpt by Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch):

Andal and religious fervour (from Autobiography of a Goddess):

Simone Weil, again (Waiting for God):

and while we’re on that see also: Catholicism

see also: Hannibal ( @bluebeardsbride collection of posts and analysis on this is simply marvelous)

and keeping with horror, what’s more seductive in Western popular culture than the enduring, insidious excess of the vampire’s hunger? The sheer breadth of the fears and anxieties they contain is endless, but that hunger – transgressive, monstrous and shameless –  both fascinates and repels us. You can read so much into the act of biting and draining your victim of blood, but there is an undeniably erotic element to it:

“She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there; the pointed teeth, the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth–which it made one shudder to see–the whole carnal and unspiritual appearance, seeming like a devilish mockery of Lucy’s sweet purity.”  (Bram Stoker, Dracula)

and Nina Cassian (The Young Bat):

This, even with the inherent violence, reads like a sacrament. It is, for better or worse, communion. And so much of love and desire is about some sort of communion. “I don’t want you there, I want you here.” And what’s the most intimate and lasting communion than:

“to be hungered after / to be taken inside another’s warm mouth / to alter his atlas of desire” (Zakia Henderson-Brown) 

To me, that is the epitome of ‘I want you here’. At it’s peak the boundaries blur: inside and outside is one and the same. The circle closes. Literally. And once that’s done it’s yours forever.

(Sarah Clear, ‘Dinner For Two: Sexual Desire, Reciprocity, and Cannibalism’): The above is a literal take but for me it really isn’t about that; it is the motivation behind it – the kind of blindingly intense, utterly consumptive (hello) desire that makes you want something that badly. That’s what I’m completely floored by in Georges Bataille’s “A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism”.

Hunger is the most primal need. Everything circles back to that, always, whether political or erotic. To be wanted beyond want, to be desired at a level of pure necessity – that is intense asf. Who wouldn’t want that? As Erica Jong says:

#i did not intend for this to become this long omfg #ask #anonymous #carnal appetites

[wisteriashouse]

red lights, lilac eyes.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 6612

remarks: this was a request by the lovely @hinokami-s​!! i hope you enjoyed it, and thank you so much for commissioning me! i really enjoyed writing hayami <3

Tanjirou is, to put it lightly, uncomfortable.

He can’t place his finger on what exactly it is about this place that makes him feel so. At a simple glance, he can tell that the flooring of the waiting room is made from expensive wood, its surface polished smooth by a carpenter’s hand and covered with a finishing layer of lacquer. Around him, rare pottery line the shelves and tasteful pieces of art decorate the walls, but the opulence of it all cannot hide the heavy smell of sex that lingers in the air, no matter how much incense the pleasure house burns in an attempt to mask the scent. Trying to breathe through his mouth as much as possible, Tanjirou forces himself to calm down, fisting his hands in the fabric of his hakama as he exhales slowly. 

Hayami will be alright, he repeats to himself for the fifth time. Tanjirou hasn’t seen her for days, and every second that passes his worry only grows. He knows that Hayami is strong, and he knows that she is more than able to take care of herself, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the unease that continues to linger -- he knows it will refuse to abate until he sees that Hayami is fine and well with his own two eyes.

A week ago, the kasugai crows had come to the two of them with a mission - to infiltrate the red light district of Yoshiwara. Several slayers had reported rumours of a man eating demon in the vicinity, and both Hayami and Tanjirou had been assigned to eliminate it. The plan had been simple, Hayami would infiltrate the red light district posing as a hopeful future oiran to gather intel about the demon, while Tanjirou would enter and leave the oiran house as a customer to provide backup as needed.

When they’d both heard about the mission for the first time, Hayami’s expression hadn’t changed much, but Tanjirou could smell the change in her mood almost immediately - the sour scent of deep unease and reluctance.

Tanjirou had instantly volunteered to infiltrate the red light district as a prostitute in her place (an idea which had been shot down by his kasugai crow in an instant), but Hayami had only managed a laugh, shaken her head at his suggestion and reassured him that she would be alright. 

She had asked Tanjirou to trust her, so Tanjirou must have faith in his friend and wait patiently - as much as he wants to search the oiran house for her right this instant, it would only compromise the mission. Furrowing his brow, Tanjirou lets out a slight sigh - even if he has full belief in Hayami’s strength, he can’t help but worry. After all, he-

“The shinzo Hanamurasaki will enter now.”

Tanjirou’s back straightens in an instant at the voice outside the door, the leather of his concealed sword sheath bumping against his back. He can think about his feelings later. Right now, he needs to focus on the mission at hand - eliminating the demon before it can take yet another life.

The door slides open.

Quickly sliding a smile onto his face, Tanjirou turns towards the doorway to greet the woman. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he begins, but then his eyes widen in shock when he takes in the sight of the person in the doorway. “Haya-”

“No, it is my pleasure to be able to entertain you today.” The courtesan before him - no, Hayami - bows slightly to him, a finger raised subtly to her lips which are painted pink with shimmering gloss, reminding him of the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring. The long platinum hair he’s only ever seen in a high ponytail is done up in an elaborate up-do, carefully waxed and adorned with tortoiseshell pins, not a single strand out of place. He can’t tear his eyes away from her. “I am a courtesan in training,” she gives him a slight smile, chaste and alluring, looking up at him shyly from under her lashes. “You can call me Hanamurasaki.”

It takes only two simple sentences, said so sweetly, for Tanjirou’s cheeks to burn as if they’ve been set alight. Embarrassed, he ducks his head to the side in an attempt to hide his flush. “I will.” He says, not trusting his voice to say any more than that.

“Come with me, I’ll bring you to your room.” Hayami waits for Tanjirou to rise before following suit, hands delicately clasped in front of a colourful obi. The two of them make their way down the winding corridors, and it’s only when Tanjirou no longer picks up the scent of any other people nearby that he whispers, out of the corner of his mouth, slightly confused. “Hanamurasaki?”

“The pseudonym given to me by the brothel owner,” Hayami murmurs in reply, maintaining her graceful, sweeping gait. Tanjirou glances up at her when he picks up a familiar scent of unease coming off her, sees her mouth pulled into a tight line. “I didn’t want to leave my real name in a place like this.”

The scent thickens, and Tanjirou’s brows furrow in worry. Although Hayami has never explicitly mentioned anything about her childhood, he thinks he picks up enough - the familiarity that Hayami has with the Floating World of Pleasure that is Yoshiwara tells him all that he needs. Reaching over, he places one hand on Hayami’s - the only exposed skin that isn’t hidden away by layers of brocade and silk - and squeezes it lightly in an attempt to comfort his friend. 

“Do you want to stop the mission?” He asks seriously. When Hayami frowns, opening her mouth to reassure him that she’s alright, Tanjirou continues. “I know that you’re more than capable of succeeding, Hayami. But I don’t like the fact that you have to stay in a place that makes you unhappy.”

At Tanjirou’s words, Hayami’s steps falter, before she comes to a standstill. “Unhappy…” She repeats the word slowly, and then to Tanjirou’s surprise, she huffs out a little laugh through her nose, the action completely at odds with her elegant attire and so much more Hayami that Tanjirou can only stare for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t say completely unhappy. It just brings back some bad memories that I’d rather not think about.” With a smile, she squeezes Tanjirou’s hand in return. “But the fact that you’re here with me makes me feel a lot better. So thank you, Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou’s breath catches in his throat for a second before he manages a slight cough, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.” He says, feeling his cheeks burn pink again and Hayami giggles slightly. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s not my fault that you look so beautiful!”

“Alright, alright.” Hayami’s lilac eyes dance with amusement and Tanjirou breathes a small sigh of relief, she’s smiling for real again. “On the bright side, I don’t think I’ll have to stay here for much longer. I have an idea of how the demon has been eating the girls here unnoticed.”

“Oh.” Tanjirou sucks in a breath, eyes widening as he looks up at Hayami. His hand subconsciously brushes the sheath of the sword on his back. “How so?”

“Its Blood Demon Art is likely the ability to shapeshift, it assumes the form of different men for each woman.” Hayami explains, her eyes narrowing. Tanjirou can hear the clear disgust in her voice when she speaks. “The demon treats the prostitutes gently and showers them with gifts, promising them that it’ll run away with them and free them from the brothel house. The stories get spread between the girls working here, so no one really suspects a thing when a prostitute goes missing entirely after a night.”

Tanjirou frowns, anger mounting in his chest. Giving the girls false hope of escaping this life only to devour them, that’s far too cruel. “What about the owner of the brothel house? Won’t they care that the girls are running away?”

“The house owner doesn’t report it because it gives the brothel house a bad reputation, so the disappearances are never made known to the public.” Hayami answers. Tanjirou can see the way her hands clench into fists under the elaborately embroidered brocade of her obi. “As long as it doesn’t result in a significant loss of money, the house owner won’t care in the least. The women here are just money making objects to them. The demon is careful to eat mostly lower ranked prostitutes, ones that the brothel house haven’t invested much money in training, so their deaths just end up swept under the rug.”

“That’s awful.” Tanjirou says softly. Hayami nods in agreement to his words, before she lets out a pained sigh. “Sorry, I got a little emotional there. Well, as much as I’d like to, I can’t save every woman here from this place.” She looks so crestfallen that Tanjirou feels his own heart throb in pain.

He pats her hand. “There’s no need to apologise for being upset about the unfairness of the world, Hayami.” He tells her firmly. “Let’s focus on what we can do instead, such as making this place a little safer for them by taking out the demon. Alright?”

Hayami takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath before she nods. “Okay.” The determination burning in her eyes is hard to look away from, Tanjirou thinks to himself. “Let’s head to the room first, I’ll tell you more about the different brothel houses I think the demon may strike tonight-”

All of a sudden, a choking, rotten scent fills Tanjirou’s nose and he immediately claps one hand over his mouth, trying not to gag. Hayami’s eyes widen, before her expression instantly turns cold.

“Demon?” She whispers sharply. Tanjirou nods, urgent.

“It’s approaching. Do we engage it?”

Hayami shakes her head immediately. “We don’t know enough about its abilities in combat to take it on right here. The corridors are narrow and it’d be difficult for you to swing your sword.”

The sound of wooden geta clicking against the flooring grows steadily louder, and to Tanjirou’s surprise, Hayami quickly tugs him into a small alcove in the wall by the sleeve. It’s clearly too cramped for two people, the top of his head brushing against her chin and his hands braced on either side of her to prevent himself from being pressed up against her. “Wait, wait, what is it?” He tries to keep his voice level even as his heart thumps rapidly in his chest. This isn’t the time to be embarrassed, Tanjirou!

“The demon might be suspicious of me. It’s probably caught wind of me asking around about the disappearances.” Hayami mutters under her breath, looking over Tanjirou’s head. This action only serves to press Tanjirou’s face into her neck, his nose suddenly filled with the heady scent of floral perfume. Head spinning, Tanjirou tries to keep his composure by holding his breath, doing his best not to inhale the intoxicating scent. “By my estimates, the demon should have headed to one of the other houses tonight, not come back here. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s trying to find out how much I know.”

“What do we do then? It’ll be bad if we lose the advantage of surprise.” Tanjirou tries his best to extricate himself from Hayami without too much contact, but it’s far too cramped in the alcove to do so. Hayami ponders this for a moment, before she suddenly looks down at Tanjirou with a slightly flustered expression on her face.

“Tanjirou, forgive me for this,” one of her hands cup the back of his head firmly, the other tilting his chin up so he’s looking into her delicate purple eyes, “but I’ll explain later.”

Their faces are so close that he can count every fine eyelash, her breath warm against his lips. His heart is beating far too hard at the proximity for it to be healthy for him, and it takes everything in him to maintain his Total Concentration Breathing. “What for-” He barely manages to get out without stuttering, but before he can say another word, Tanjirou feels a pair of soft lips pressed against his.

“Mmph!”

Her lips are soft. That’s the first thing Tanjirou registers when Hayami kisses him for the very first time, his knees suddenly weak, fingers clutching at the heavy kimono around Hayami’s shoulders. The second thing he notices is that they taste sweet, like the candy that Tanjirou used to buy for his younger siblings every New Year. For a moment, he wonders if it’s simply the lip gloss that Hayami wears, or if her mouth has tasted like honey from the very beginning. Curiosity has him leaning in instinctively to press his mouth harder against hers. More, his heart and mind echo, and Hayami tugs him closer so that their bodies are pressed flush against each other, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck as she hums lightly against his mouth.

She’s too close. All Tanjirou can think about Hayami, his senses driven into a frenzy by her scent, intoxicating-

When she tugs, Tanjirou’s mouth parts with a little gasp, his own fingers scrabbling weakly for purchase on the smooth brocade of her kimono. Something wet flicks against his lower lip - the tip Hayami’s tongue, he realises, and the shock of that is enough for his mind to return to him at once.

He pulls away with a gasp, both hands clasped over his mouth as he stares at Hayami with wide eyes. The pink on Hayami’s lips are smeared slightly across her mouth, and when he subconsciously licks his own lips at the sight, he can taste her lip gloss still lingering on his mouth. 

He can’t seem to catch his breath.

“The demon seems to have left.” Hayami says, glancing over his shoulder as she straightens her robes, her voice only a little shaky. Thoroughly embarrassed, Tanjirou presses both hands over his cheeks in a futile attempt at hiding the flush burning at his cheeks. He’s still struggling to form coherent thoughts when he catches sight of Hayami’s ears, the tips bright red. 

Did she… perhaps like it too?

Not quite meeting his eyes, Hayami reaches out to wipe at the corner of his mouth with her sleeve. His lips, still sensitive from the kiss earlier, tingle at the sensation, pinpricks of heat dancing under his skin. “You have a bit of gloss here.” She murmurs, and Tanjirou wonders if her cheeks are just as warm as his under the layer of white painted on her face.

“O-oh.” He wonders if Hayami knows that she’s the one who has taken his first kiss. “Uhm…”

Hayami ducks her head, straightening out her robes. “We should go.”

“Oh, right.” Slapping his cheeks lightly, Tanjirou forces himself to refocus on the mission at hand. The demon is still here! He can think about the kiss later. When he turns back to Hayami, she’s tugging at the elaborately done obi around her waist before her hands fall to the side in resignation. A groan of frustration leaves her mouth. “This outfit is going to take at least an hour to get out of.” Hayami shakes her head. “Tanjirou, do you think you can deal with this demon on your own?”

Tanjirou nods, pulling out his sword. Its weight is comforting in his hands, and he shrugs off the drab brown overcoat he’s wearing to free his arms before glancing up at Hayami. “Let’s go.”

Hayami takes him by the hand, leading him down the hallway with quick, hurried steps. “The demon should be having a meal now, entertained with a few other courtesans in training, just like me. You take on the demon while I evacuate the rest of the women in the room.” They stop just outside a sliding door, and from within Tanjirou can hear the chatter of the women, completely unaware of the true nature of the creature they’re dining with. 

Tanjirou readies his sword in his hands, but he can’t help the worried glance he sends towards Hayami. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Hayami nods, sending him a warm smile that has his heart stumbling a beat in his chest. Taking a deep breath, Tanjirou throws the door open with a violent bang.

“Evil demon! For your crimes of devouring humans and taking the lives of innocent people,” Tanjirou declares, leveling the point of the nichirin blade right at the demon. Although it may take the form of a human, the pungent, sour smell of blood and rotten flesh that clings to its form is something the demon cannot hide. “I will destroy you right here!”

The courtesans next to it scream at the sight of his sword, an item forbidden to carry about in Yoshiwara. They’ve probably never had one pointed in their faces before, and Tanjirou internally apologises for frightening them out of their wits. The demon scowls, baring its teeth as its face begins to shift and morph - Hayami was right, after all. As the grotesque face of the demon reveals itself, the once human features melting away, the courtesans scream again, one of them scrambling to get as far as she can from the nightmarish sight. Tanjirou catches sight of the demon’s eyes flicking towards her, attention drawn by the movement, and he lunges forward with a yell, swinging his blade down before the monster’s claws can graze her skin.

“Breath of Water, Eighth Form, Waterfall Basin!”

The demon lets out a piercing shriek as its arm falls off, thudding to the ground with a wet thump, barely inches from the hem of the trembling courtesan’s kimono. Her eyes widen in shock, mouth beginning to open in yet another scream when Hayami, having kicked off her geta unceremoniously, scoops the courtesan up into her arms easily in spite of the cumbersome outfit and waltzes out of the way of the demon’s crushing grip.

“It’s okay now,” he can hear Hayami reassure the courtesan gently as he stands between them and the demon protectively. The demon snarls once more, multiple arms sprouting from its sides threateningly. Tanjirou counts eight as he grips his sword tightly once more. “You’ll be fine, my friend here will take care of the monster. Just get away from this place, alright?”

Twisting his body, Tanjirou leaps forward and slashes at the arms rapidly with ‘Flowing Dance’, mind furiously doing its best to keep track of the movements of all eight limbs at once. So focused on the battle at hand he doesn’t notice that the demon is slowly morphing in shape once again, eyes turning a warm, familiar red, hair elongating into a ponytail. It’s only when Tanjirou finishes cutting off all the eight arms and changes his grip to slash at the demon’s neck that he realises that it is his father standing before him, looking down at him with a gentle gaze that is already beginning to fray at the edges of his childhood memories.

He makes a fatal mistake. He falters.

His father is dead, and Tanjirou knows that from the bottom of his heart, but he can’t help the way his blade hesitates for just a second - he cannot possibly strike down the image of his father without a second thought. Unfortunately, however, the demon has no intentions of waiting for him to steel his heart and instantly lunges forward in an attack, claws outstretched.

“Tanjirou, watch out!”

In the nick of time, Hayami hurls one of the heavy geta she’d kicked aside earlier at the demon - her aim is impeccable, and the shoe strikes it dead in the eye. The demon lets out a howl of pain, its swipe missing Tanjirou by several inches, much to his relief.

However, that relief is short-lived when Tanjirou turns to thank Hayami… only to realise that the demon’s attention is now on her instead of him.

Tanjirou raises his blade to sever the demon’s head at once, but it takes less than the space of a single breath for the demon to change form once again, the familiar checkered haori of his father melting into a sea of vermillion silk, fancifully embroidered with golden thread. Tanjirou glances up at the new face the demon wears and a gasp escapes him unbidden - platinum hair done up in a elaborate knot, features that could have been carved by the hand of a master sculptor - the person whose form the demon assumes is so stunningly beautiful that it steals the breath from his lungs - its face reminds him so much of Hayami, except for its cruel, carmine eyes. 

“M-mother?”

Tanjirou’s head whips around in shock when he hears Hayami’s voice tremble - the word is strained not from longing, not from surprise, but from fear. Her purple eyes are wide, pupils dilated as she stares down the person before her. Hayami is one of the strongest people he knows, unflinching in the face of terrible demons and courageous in the fiercest battles, and yet, before this woman she calls her mother, she trembles?

His empathy instantly sends off hundreds of warning bells in his head, his grip on his blade tightening instantly. Every nerve in his body is screaming at him that he needs to cut this woman, this demon, down right now. 

“I’m… I’m not going back there.” Hayami shakes her head furiously, taking a step back as the demon takes another forward. She trips on the long hem of her robe and ends up falling to the ground, but she doesn’t even seem to notice in the least, her eyes still fixed on the demon before her. Tanjirou can practically smell the terror in the air, so overpowering that he feels as if he might choke on it. “Y-you can’t make me. You’re dead.”

The demon raises its hand, and Hayami flinches back, throwing both hands up to protect herself.

Tanjirou sees red.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s cut off the demon’s head until he hears a mangled scream and a heavy, wet thud at his feet, the acrid scent of ash wafting through the air. Completely ignoring the demon’s corpse even as it begins to crumble, Tanjirou heads straight over to Hayami, hands tentatively reaching out for her before he decides to pull them back. Hayami’s breathing is still uneven, her body trembling slightly, and Tanjirou doesn’t want to cause her any more distress than she already has to deal with.

His heart aches for her. 

Quietly, Tanjirou sheaths his sword and kneels before Hayami, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her form and pull her into his embrace. He should have been faster, he shouldn’t have hesitated, he-

“Are you…” Tanjirou pauses, biting on his lower lip before speaking again. “Are you alright?”

It is obvious that she isn’t, but he asks anyway.

Hayami remains silent for a few moments, but Tanjirou can see her doing her best to school her expression, taking slow, deep breaths to regain her composure. After about a minute, she forces a smile onto her cheeks, shakily getting to her feet.

“I’m fine. Just taken by surprise.” She says. Her voice is too casual, too lighthearted. Before Tanjirou can say a word in response, Hayami extends her hand to him. “Come on. I want to get out of this kimono as fast as possible.” Their eyes don’t meet.

Tanjirou has no choice but to take it.

>>>

After informing the owner of the brothel house about the demon and reassuring the courtesans at the scene that the demon had been eliminated, the two of them had been provided a room for Hayami to change out of her disguise. The second they get to the room, Hayami instantly steps behind the folding screen, and a second later, Tanjirou hears a heavy thump - the sound of fabric falling to the ground. 

Thoroughly flustered, Tanjirou wonders if he should leave the room to give Hayami her privacy, surely it can’t be appropriate for a man to be in the same room as a changing woman. He’s about to tell Hayami he’ll be waiting for her outside when she calls for him first, startling him.

“Is there something you need?” Approaching the folding screen, Tanjirou hovers outside nervously, wondering if he should enter or not. Before he can ask, however Hayami reaches out and tugs him in, much to his shock. He instantly clasps both hands over his eyes, shaking his head frantically. “Hayami!”

“Don’t worry, I’m decent.” 

Hayami’s voice right by his ear doesn’t help in the least to calm his racing heart, but Tanjirou lowers his hands slowly anyway to see that she’s shed the outermost layers of her kimono. The exorbitant pieces of brocade and silk are strewn carelessly on the floor. 

“Can you give me a hand? I can’t quite reach the tie by myself.” Hayami gestures to the knot done at her back, keeping the inner kimono in place. Stepping forward, Tanjirou reaches out and hesitates for a second, tugging on the knot while being as careful as possible not to touch her unnecessarily. The knot doesn’t even budge.

“Give me a moment.” Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Tanjirou struggles to undo the knot - his fingers are too big and she’s far too close once again, the scent of her perfume tickling his nose just like it did during the kiss earlier. Her lips on his, her fingers in his hair, pulling-

“Tanjirou? Tanjirou, is there something wrong?” It takes Hayami calling his name twice for him to realise that his fingers have stilled. Embarrassed at being caught off guard, Tanjirou instantly returns his attention to the task at hand, smacking himself in the head mentally. Stop thinking about it! “No.” He answers, and is utterly dismayed when his voice cracks. “There’s nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”

He doesn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.

“I…” Hayami begins, hesitating for a moment as Tanjirou continues to attempt to undo the knot diligently. “I’m sorry.”

Of all the things Tanjirou had expected Hayami to say, this was definitely not one of them. “Sorry?” Tanjirou repeats, totally bemused. “What is there for you to be sorry about?” 

“The kiss earlier.” Hayami clarifies, her voice a little louder this time. When she glances back over her shoulder, Tanjirou once again catches sight of a slight red touching the tips of her ears - something that makes his own cheeks heat as well. “I’m sorry… I didn’t get your permission, and well, we’re not together, and-” Hayami pauses in horror, suddenly clasping her hands over her mouth and turning around in a flurry of brightly coloured fabric. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him. “Tanjirou, that was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

Tanjirou awkwardly bobs his head in confirmation, the heat spreading down his neck and intensifying in the tips of his ears. 

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, Tanjirou!” Hayami turns around to apologise, looking completely flustered. One of her hands reaches up to twirl a lock of her hair around her finger, a nervous habit of hers that Tanjirou has noticed over time, before she realises that her hair is still done up in its up-do and her hands end up twisting nervously in the fabric of her kimono. “I’m really, really sorry, I should have thought of something else to distract the demon instead-”

While Tanjirou does think Hayami is absolutely adorable when she gets flustered like this, he’s far too soft hearted to leave her in this state. 

“It’s alright.” He reassures her immediately, reaching out to squeeze her hand. At the contact, Hayami’s rambling stops, and she looks down at Tanjirou nervously. He continues to speak. “I’m alright with you being my first kiss. In fact…” he glances down, unable to meet her eyes. “It was nice.”

“Oh.” That’s all Hayami says in response. The two of them remain that way for a while, awkwardly glancing this way and that in an attempt to avoid looking at each other. It takes Tanjirou a whole minute to realise that he’s still holding Hayami’s hands in his.

“Well!” Tanjirou drops Hayami’s hands in an instant, moving to undo the knot at her back once again so she can’t see how painfully red his face is. It comes apart easily now, the traitorous little thing. “As much as I’d like to leave this place, I think it’s too late for us to travel to any of the Wisteria Houses nearby.” In front of him, Hayami’s shoulders instantly tense up, visible even from beneath the thick kimono she’s wearing. Tanjirou is quick to pick up that she’s uncomfortable with the idea. “I mean, I could go look around the area for an inn or somewhere else to stay that isn’t,” he gestures vaguely at the room they are in, trying his very hardest to avert his eyes from the erotic artworks hanging from the walls, “a brothel.”

To his surprise, Hayami simply shakes her head. “There’s no point in doing so.” She sounds tired. “We’re in the red light district of Yoshiwara, no inn that abstains from selling sexual services would survive in this place. I’ll be fine.” The last word wavers, but she continues as if nothing has happened, forcing another smile onto her face. Tanjirou doesn’t like it when she does that. “Besides, I’m hungry! What are we having for dinner?”

When she’s so desperate to change the subject, Tanjirou can’t find it in him to press on with questions and only relents, nodding his head. Hayami clearly doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’ll head downstairs and see if I can get any food for the two of us.”

“Thank you!” Hayami says cheerfully. “I’d appreciate it!”

As Tanjirou slides the door to the room closed, he catches sight of Hayami looking at her own reflection in the looking glass, a hand raised to her painted cheek.

Her expression is forlorn.

>>>

Dinner is a simple affair, the two of them too tired out from the long mission to make much conversation. After finishing their meal, Hayami and Tanjirou both change into their nightclothes and head to their separate bedding, Tanjirou insisting on some form of decorum by placing the folding screen between them. Tanjirou falls asleep first, to the sound of Hayami’s soft breathing from the other side of the room.

And wakes a few hours later to the sound of soft crying.

He lies there for a few moments in the dark, trying to put the pieces of his mind together when he hears another soft whimper from the other side of the folding screen. In an instant Tanjirou has thrown off the covers, scrambling to his feet, his hand reaching for his sword. The scent of burning wisteria incense still lingers at his nose, so it can’t possibly be another demon, but Tanjirou isn’t taking any chances when it comes to Hayami’s safety.

“Hayami!” Tanjirou calls, his voice still raspy from sleep, shoving the folding screen to the side. His eyes scan the dark room, searching for the source of her discomfort. There’s no one in the room except for the two of them. “Hayami, are you alright-”

It’s then that Tanjirou realises she’s still fast asleep.

Even as he watches, Hayami continues to toss and turn on the bedding, legs tangled in the covers, moonlight glancing off the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. The same scent of fear from earlier in the day is almost overbearing to his nose, and Tanjirou immediately crouches next to her bed, intent on waking her up so she doesn’t have to spend a minute longer in her nightmares.

“N-no… I’m not going back…” Hayami shakes her head, platinum hair spilling over her pillow. Tanjirou pauses in rousing her awake, hands stilling for a moment at the edge of the blankets. “Mother! Enough! Stop hitting me, please!”

At her words, Tanjirou sucks in a breath between his teeth. Anger rises in him, his body temperature increasing as if his very blood is beginning to boil over. He has to consciously relax his grip on his sheath - if it breaks, he’ll never hear the end of it from Haganezuka-san. 

How could any parent do something like that to their own child?

Shaking his head in despair, he turns back to Hayami, hands resting on her shoulders before he shakes her firmly. “Hayami. Hayami, wake up.”

She doesn’t wake, still trapped in her own dreams as she flinches and trembles. “No, no, I’m not coming with you.”

“Hayami,” Tanjirou is more desperate this time, shaking her a little harder by the shoulders in an attempt to wake her up. “Hayami, please, wake up!”

This time she does, lurching forward abruptly with a strangled cry buried in the back of her throat and her lilac eyes wide with terror. They lock onto Tanjirou’s, and she exhales, the sound short and weak.

“Tanjirou?” Her voice is shaking.

“That’s me.” Tanjirou picks up her hand in his own, clasping it tightly - to act as a comfort, a lifeline connecting her back to reality. Hayami only stares at him and at their intertwined hands for a short moment, blinking once, before she bursts forward and wraps her arms tightly around Tanjirou, taking him completely by surprise. 

Her entire form is trembling like a leaf in the wind, and Tanjirou hugs her back equally tight, crushing her against him. He can feel her chest heaving from barely restrained sobs. “I… I thought…” Hayami hiccups and shakes her head, burying her face in the crook of Tanjirou’s neck. “I thought she was coming back… that she was going to take me away… back to that place.”

Tanjirou simply holds her close, his palm resting in her hair and stroking slowly. He can feel her heart thudding through the thin sleep robes they’re wearing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, careful not to be too loud. Hayami takes a deep breath, her nose pressed to his shoulder. It’s a long moment before she begins to speak.

“My mother used to train me to be a courtesan. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps.” Hayami trembles, her fingers tightening around his hand. “She had very high standards that I could never meet… and when I failed… she would punish me by…” Her voice breaks, and she buries her face in Tanjirou’s shoulder once again. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to talk about it.”

Tanjirou doesn’t remember the last time he felt such rage. But what Hayami needs is comfort, not payback on her parents, and so Tanjirou takes a deep breath to cool his head, before squeezing Hayami’s hand lightly.

“You’re safe here with me.” Tanjirou says quietly, so as not to startle Hayami. She stills against him at his words, her breath dancing across the skin of his neck, before pulling away to look into Tanjirou’s eyes. Her own eyes are wet at the edges, and Tanjirou raises a gentle hand to wipe the tears away. “I’m here for you if you need me, alright?”

Hayami falls silent, looking at him with those beautiful, vulnerable eyes before she nods silently. “I trust you, Tanjirou.” She says, her voice slightly hoarse with emotion. Tanjirou beams at her warmly, his hand coming to rest on top of her head.  

“I’ll tuck you into bed now, alright? We’ll leave this place first thing tomorrow, as soon as the sun rises.” Obediently, Hayami lies down in the bedding as Tanjirou gathers the blankets strewn on the floor before moving to lay them over her, careful to cover her feet so she doesn’t catch a cold at night. It’s only when he’s tucking the blanket at her shoulders does he feel her hand wrap around his wrist, drawing his attention. 

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Tanjirou asks, surprised, looking down to see Hayami peering up at him with a soft look in her eyes. Hayami only smiles slightly and shakes her head, chewing on her bottom lip hesitantly for a moment before speaking up.

“Could you…” she pauses, playing with the ends of her long hair before she looks up at Tanjirou once more. “Could you please… sleep with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

Tanjirou’s eyes go wide at her request. His mouth opens and closes several times, trying his best to speak, but no words leave his lips. Seeing his reaction, Hayami instantly backtracks, suddenly flustered as well. “No, no, that’s not what I meant for it to sound like! I didn’t mean any sort of indecent things, I swear! I just-”

His hand comes to rest over her mouth, cutting off her rambling. He’s sure his cheeks are as red as hers.

“It’s fine. I know what you mean, there’s no need to say any more.” Hayami buries her face in her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. Awkwardly, Tanjirou lifts the covers so that he can slide into the bedding next to Hayami. It’s too small for the two of them and half of his body rests on the tatami, but Tanjirou hardly pays any mind with how fast his heart is racing at their proximity.

Sure, he’s slept next to Nezuko and his younger siblings like this years ago, and he’s slept in futons smaller than this when on missions, Inosuke’s shins in his face and Zenitsu’s drool on his knee, but none of them have been like this. 

None of them have been with Hayami.

Next to him, Hayami curls up into his side, her hand reaching for his and Tanjirou seriously worries that his heart might just burst from his chest with how hard it’s beating. Trying to keep his breathing even, he chances a glance to his side - and nearly has a heart attack from how close Hayami’s eyes are to his.

“S-so.” Tanjirou curses internally at the way his voice cracks. From the little giggle at his side, he’s sure that Hayami has heard it, much to his mortification. “Do you want me to count some snow bunnies?”

Hayami smiles next to him, an innocent, beautiful sight. “Count snow bunnies?” She echoes. “I thought people are meant to count sheep.” Tanjirou nods dumbly. She’s too close, her subtle, sweet scent muddling his mind, scattering his thoughts. 

“I used to do that for my younger siblings when they couldn’t sleep or when they got nightmares. There weren’t any sheep near our home in the mountains, so I counted snow bunnies instead.” Tanjirou explains in a hushed whisper, careful not to disturb the delicate moment they’re sharing between them. “Ah, apologies. I can’t count very high.”

“I doubt I’ll stay awake that long.” Hayami hums lightly, before she rests her head on the pillow so that she can watch Tanjirou. Tanjirou feels his cheeks burn once again at her gaze. “Could you count them for me, please? Your voice is nice to listen to.”

“O-okay.” Tanjirou mumbles, shy at the unexpected compliment. He sucks in a breath. “Here I go. One snow bunny, two snow bunnies, three snow bunnies...”

It’s at thirty snow bunnies that Hayami moves closer, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as he tries to remember the number that comes next. It’s at sixty-eight snow bunnies that she’s curled up against his side, their hands clasped tightly, her breathing soft and even next to his as he struggles to keep his eyes open and to continue counting.

He never reaches a hundred, both of them lost in sweet dreams and the warmth of each other.

#kamado tanjiro #tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #kamado tanjirō #kamado #tanjirou #kamado tanjiro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #kny #kny tanjiro kamado #kny tanjirou #kny tanjiro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba tanjiro

[dragonrajafanfiction]

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” 

N

“To err is human, to dream divine."

W anyone ya want to really^^

You’re standing in the pouring rain. It’s raining so hard you can barely keep your eyes open. The heavy, relentless drops are beating on you, dozens of times per second, and despite your attempt at preparation - a bright yellow poncho that you snagged at the last dingy rest stop on the way to this godforsaken piece of no-mans-land - you’re soaked through anywhere  that peeked out. Your hands, are wet and icy cold. So is your face and you’re starting to get soaked through your collar.

The dark sky turned white with a few flashes of lightning. Shadows of the surrounding dense forests reached into the heavens behind the two story antebellum mansion. It loomed over the flat land with a menacing presence. Its formal gleaming whitewashed façade was darkened by climbing ivy. Its painted columns were running with cracks. The wood was split underneath like shattered old bones.

You shiver with more than just cold. 

Your professors looked at you in confused sympathy when you entered Cassell College. You barely passed the 3E exam as a base C-Rank.  Professor Schneider passed your name on the list of potential commissioners and you were happy to spend your days examining your love of ancient Aztec art in the hopes of specializing in MesoAmerican Archeaology.

Of course, you passed all the classics on dragon genetics and weapons engineering but with the most useless Soul Skill on all of Campus, you figured you’d hardly matter when it came to dragon slaying.

Norma told you in a forced optimistic voice that only two other hybrids had been documented with the Soul-Skill Devour. It meant that the user could make themselves immune to all toxins and could digest anything they swallowed. It may sound neat on the surface, however, it didn’t change the fact that a person might not want to eat odd things or that it would taste and feel terrible going down.

Because it is such a weak Soul Skill and it was documented, your Soul Skill ended up on public record. You spent the rest of your college days being known as the student who could ‘eat shit and NOT die’ and fielding dares to swallow everything from the most toxic substances to the most disgusting, and fielding invitations to the Gear Department for what was presumably lunch as well as testing.

So when you got the summons to report to the Executive Department, you thought it was a joke and didn’t bother replying until you got a second email explaining that if you didn’t show up you would be expelled. 

“All Cassell College Alumni must have an internship and participate in missions for graduation.” Norma patiently explained to you as you received the mission. “Even though your major is in archeology, you are expected to complete a mission for the college.”

Sure. Whatever. You got onto the big black helicopter and left the college, expecting a normal mission where you hopefully ‘stood watch’ or something easy, just to check a box on your resume at graduation. What you didn’t expect was to be met by Caesar Gattuso, the President of the Student Union, once you got off the aircraft.

Even as he reclined in the front seat of a camouflage colored military jeep, he looked every bit the veteran. He was staring at the tablet with his intense blue gaze. A hint of stubble lit his chin in a faint blond halo. The door of the Jeep was open and you could see that he was dressed in Camo pants under the white tank-tee that was already getting sticky with sweat in the humid air of the southern United States.

He didn’t bother looking up at you or explaining anything. He closed the application with a deft swipe of his long fingers and looked at you. No doubt he stamped you with the same label of “Useless baggage” as everyone else did. Silently, those eyes scanned down and then back up again. And then his eyebrows rose -- you imagined a little ‘ding’ sound as his calculations spit out a result.

Much to your surprise, he grinned.

Caesar was used to much higher level people groveling at his feet for his favor, trying their best to get a word in, trying their best to get a little bit of approval from him. Here he was completely alone, save a single person -- you -- who simply had no hope of rising to anything but the podium to reach out, take your diploma and disappear into obscurity.

So sure. Laugh it up, golden boy. You return his smile with none of the brightness and shrug.

You have one duffle bag of supplies but it was basic. A pistol of Frigg and live ammunition, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, a two way radio and flares. You tossed it in the back of the Jeep and got into the passenger seat.

“We have a report of what may be a backwoods cult that has forbidden dragon artifacts. The Cultists I’ll have no issue with. So don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t planning to. You’re the expert, not me. I just need this to graduate.”

He shifted the jeep into gear. The tires crunched against gravel before pulling out on to smooth surface. “You remind me of someone else. Don’t you aspire to more?”

“It’s not really possible.”

Caesar huffed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s only because of how you view things.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. That was so easy for him to say. He was A-ranked, rich, famous. You were none of those things. Under your yearbook photo they should put the caption ‘just happy to be here’.

The road disappeared under a glowing emerald canopy of white oak, sumac and locust trees. The greenery crowded onto the road, and the car was kept corraled by a single rusty guardrail as the surrounding plants scraped at it. But Caesar pumped the accelerator and hugged the curves, weaving this way and that as the tension rose up your entire body. You found yourself gripping the seat and praying that no one would come swinging round the blind curves in the opposite direction and hit you head on.

Still, you didn’t feel you could ask him to slow down.

As the sunse, and you climbed the tall mountain toward your destination, the temperature noticeably cooled and you felt a chill. At the rest stop, you bought the poncho and felt the first drop of rain on your way back in to the jeep.

“So it’s true you don’t get nauseous?” Caesar asked you.  He didn’t look at you, but he was looking at a map. A red dot marked a spot, likely where they were supposed to go.

“It’s not that I don’t get nauseous, it’s that I can’t get poisoned and I can digest anything so long as I can get it down.”

“Hmmm...” Caesar rubbed his chin.

“Are you trying to think of something useful for me to do?”

Before you could think of anything else to say, you stared down the barrel of the Desert Eagle. You leap to get away, adrenaline rushing and tell you to escape, but before you could reach for the door handle, the barrel flashed and the car filled with gun residue. You grunt as the Frigg bullet shattered and sent its medication rushing through your blood stream.  Your eyes burn golden and you double over, fighting the sudden dizziness and fatigue. “You... you asshole...” “That’s what I thought. You’re not affected by Frigg bullets.” 

Frigg bullets contained an extremely powerful sedative and you could barely see. Not affected is a misnomer! You’re still affected you just get over it! You didn’t remember Caesar pulling out of the gas station until you were well on your way to the top of the mountains and it had started to rain.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah...” You rasp, cursing him a million times in your heart. You reached for a bottle of water that you had stashed.

“Not being effected by Frigga Bullets is a big deal. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He was smug, happy with his little experiment, even though you can throw that up on the pile of countless other experiments your fellow students had performed on you. “God,... I just wanna graduate.” You whisper.

Now, standing at the entrance of a massive mansion you realize you have no idea how to fight. Just because you could withstand frigg bullets didn’t mean you could withstand regular ones.

Caesar’s eyes burned golden and ghostly figures, like grim reapers, flew from his body. He stood, unbothered by the rain, listening. You hold your breath, not wanting to interfere. 

“Looks like the place is empty. Let’s go.”

The steps were rotting and soft, bowing dangerously under your feet. On the porch, a rusty metal swing creaked in a gusty wind. Caesar lifted one leg and kicked the door right in. It swung back on the hinges and Caesar entered, eyes behind his gun despite the lack of life signs.

The first thing you smell is rust or copper. You can taste it on your tongue, like licking a battery. As you step inside onto the linoleum floor, your shoes lightly adhere to it. Each step made a sound like someone peeling wallpaper. A double staircase arched gracefully in front of you and framed a painting of a man in a suit, a woman in a traditional southern dress and a small dog, like a Doberman, sitting between them.

Looking left, the walls were streaked black and looking down, you realize the black continued on the floor where you were stepping. The lightning flashed and revealed the dark brown all over the floor.

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” Caesar said.

[bbaejohnnyluvr]

3 is Just a Number (Chapter IV)

CHAPTER FOUR

Title: 3 is Just a Number

Pairing: Wooyoung x Female!Reader x San

Genre: Romance, BFF to lover, Eventually poly!relationship

Summary: The bond between the three of you is almost unbreakable. Wherever you go, they will follow. Wherever they go, you will join. The moment both of the guys got into a relationship, everything just got better. The three of you are happy with the current moment. That is until one of them decided to follow their own heart – and may or may not break the friendship that you have been holding onto for more than five years.

A/N: This is a bad chapter hh I’m sorry ;; Also, idk if I’m able to survive ateez’s comeback because it’s just asjkdkbdjksjk i almost cried istg

masterlist

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It had been a week since the incident happened. Since then, you have been staying at Yunho’s house. He is nice enough to let you have the bed while he sleeps on the couch.

His kindness made you wonder why San and Wooyoung disapproved of him in the first place.

Ever since the first night you slept in his house, he was always available for you to rant. He also lets you cuddle with him any time you want to. Sometimes, he would place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Just like that, you are slowly falling for him – that was what you wished to happen. But, not everything will turn out the way we want to, right?

Every time you hug Yunho while watching the television, it reminded of you and Wooyoung doing the same thing. When he gave you a peck on your forehead, you suddenly thought of San since it had always been his job to do so.

You know that you cannot deny that you miss your boys. Sure, Yunho can provide you all the warmth and affections you crave, but it’s different than the one you used to get.

You miss the smell of fresh foods on the table, cooked by San. You want to have your usual bantering with Wooyoung every day. You want to witness their childishness whenever they are being clingy with you.

You miss them so much and it hurts you so bad. However, you cannot do anything, simply because you are not ready to face them yet.

-

It is lunchtime, but you do not feel like eating. You were walking aimlessly around your faculty when you came across a big poster plastered against the wall – ‘PERFORMANCE ART DAY’.

Looking at the title, you are reminded of Wooyoung and San for the nth times of the day. All of this occurrence makes you forgot that they will be performing on stage soon.

You walk closer to see the date and time. Tomorrow.

Biting your lower lip, your mind starts to think about your boys. Did San get enough rest? Did Wooyoung eat properly?

It was your duty to always keep them in shape no matter how busy they are.

San tends to overwork himself without him realizing just because he wanted to deliver an amazing performance. Therefore, you had to remind him when to stop.

On Wooyoung’s side, he would practice his routine continuously, which resulted in him forgot to have his meal. Sometimes, you wonder how can a human went on a day without eating a single thing.

Just like that, it became your job to pass by his practice room to give him some food and make sure he finished everything right then and there.

It was a bad choice to look at the poster because your heart is now filled with worry. However, due to your ego, you refuse to check on them.

To get rid of the feelings, you walk away from the place and decides to focus on your class.

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The show day is finally here. Faculty of Performance Arts are busy with people here and there. Aside from the performances, they are also enjoying all the foods available at the booths nearby the entrance.

Everyone is having the time of their life, except for you, who are currently munching potato chips, on the couch, while watching television.

Yunho was about to walk towards the door but his intention got halted by your presence. He let out a sigh and leans against the wall.

“Aren’t you going,” he asked.

You know what he meant. However, you choose to ignore him and go back to your own activity.

“You can’t be like this forever, y/n.”

Once again, you pretend as if you heard nothing coming out from Yunho’s mouth. The man pulls himself from the wall and stands on his feet, both hands are now in his pockets.

“I heard that those two aren’t like how they used to be before.”

The barrier that you created earlier instantly crumbled down as soon as the sentence left Yunho’s lips. Although it is not enough to make you face him, it managed to stop you from eating junk food.

“They said that they tend to practice until late at night. Sometimes, they even slept inside the practice room. They also barely eat anything and hardly be seen together nowadays.”

If you decide to put aside your pride for a while, you would have admitted that those lines pierce your heart. They sound so exhausted, unhealthy, and sad.

You swallow down your saliva, trying to regain your composure. “They are just busy with the performance-”

“You know well that’s not the reason,” Yunho cut you off. You take a brief glance at him and you can see the seriousness on his face. His bubbly expression is gone.

He let out another sigh the moment you go back to devour those potato chips in your hand.

“I know that you’re still confused, but they need you. You guys have never been separated for too long before. Y/n, you are their strengths. I’m sure they find happiness whenever they are around you – the same happiness that you gave me.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words before facing him. Those last bits sound a lot like a confession, and it makes you dumbstruck.

The room was quiet for a few minutes. The only noise that you can hear is the conversation on the television.

With a small smile, he walks towards you to ruffle your hair gently. “As much as you hate to admit it, you miss them a lot, right?”

You bite your inner cheek, refuse to give away to your feelings. An amused smile plastered on Yunho’s face as he watches you fighting with your own inner self.

He let go of your hair and walk towards the door. Before he went out of the house, he delivered a few sentences that leave you speechless.

“One more time. Give them back their happiness one more time, and show me again your smile – the genuine smile.”

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Somehow, you end up queueing up in front of the hall where the dance will be held. As expected, there will be a lot of people wanting to watch the show.

You were about to take out your wallet to buy a ticket. However, the woman in the booth is faster than you. She hands you a ticket with a smile, leaving you confused.

As far as you know, you did not mention the number of tickets you need. Well, you are alone. But, what if you are here with someone else and the person did not know that?

“It’s y/n, right? This is the ticket reserved for you,” she said.

Although you are still clueless, you take the ticket from her and mutter a soft ‘thank you’. You flip the ticket around and you saw a note that instantly makes you smile.

“It’s not much but we hope you will enjoy the show. We love you – WooSan”

You forgot how sweet both of the boys can be towards you.  No wonder everyone love them a lot. They deserve all the love and happiness in the whole world.

Without further ado, you enter the hall and look around for your designated seat, just to find out that it is nearby the stage.

As you sit down, you can see that you are near the stage where you can clearly see the performance. Unconsciously, a soft smile forms on your face.

They even thought about the position, huh, you thought.

A couple of minutes have passed and the show finally starts. The light slowly dims itself and you can hear the music starts to play.

You watch as one by one enter the stage with their dance routine. The way they move their body matches the rhythm of the music perfectly. It is mesmerizing to watch.

Suddenly, your eyes fell on a familiar figure. One of the person you have been missing. Choi San. He is moving gracefully on the stage as if he is in his own world.

He was making a turn when his gaze fell on you, resulting in his eyes widen and almost fall down on the floor. But, being one of the best dancers, he manages to cover up his mistake.

You were panic for a while, yet you quickly regain your composure once he continues his dance routine.

The performance resumes until it reached the end. Everyone in the hall claps their hands loudly, delighted by the performance.

Not long after that, the next group was called up to take over. That is when you saw the one and only, Jung Wooyoung.

Seeing him reminds you of that time when you asked him the reason he is not in the same team as San’s.

“First, I know I can't keep my hands to myself if he's around. Also, our style is different. He prefers energetic, while I’m more to sensual.” Those were his responses to your question.

The only difference between San’s and Wooyoung’s stage is that he is already looking at your way. San must have informed him about your presence.

His gaze is a mixture of anger and longing, and it pierces your heart.

The music starts and they all start to move according to the beat. Your eyes stuck on Wooyoung as you watch his body flows perfectly to the music. He is a great dancer, just like San.

On stage, he is not the prankster annoying Wooyoung that you know. He is just, Wooyoung.

Without realizing, a tear escaped from your eye. You did not know that watching them grow up while doing what they love can make you feel proud and happy.

Memories of the three of you suddenly came into your mind. All those happy, sad, mad, and crazy moments. You remember everything – and you want to experience it once again with them.

When Wooyoung’s team ended their performance, you had to excuse yourself to the washroom. You turn the tap and wash your face with the water.

If only, if only you are willing to put your ego aside, you would have gone back to them. But, you are not ready to face them. For you, the thing that happened between the three of you is too much.

With an exhausted sigh, you get out of the washroom, just to found two young males leaning against the wall.

Your eyes immediately study their features. Due to the distance between you and the stage earlier, you can barely see the flaws on the boys’ faces.

But now, you can see how swollen their eyes have become. Even though they are wearing makeup, their eye bags are still visible to you. Their lips look dry too. It is obvious that they did not take care of themselves.

“Have you been well?” San’s question breaks the silence between you guys. Likewise, you did not respond verbally, so you just nods your head.

“How was the performance,” the younger male asked. You look at him and force a small smile on your face.

“It was nice. Good job.”

The surrounding become quiet once again until San decided to speak up.

“We miss-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off. You know what he was about to say, but that is the last thing you want to hear coming out from his mouth.

“Why? We can’t miss you now? Is that it?” As always, Wooyoung’s sudden outburst never fail to make you feel irritated.

“You can, if it’s just a friend. But, it’s not just a friend, is it? You can’t love someone else more than that when you both already have each other-“

This time, Wooyoung decided to interrupt you. “Where is the rule that says you can’t have a relationship with more than one person?”

You took your gaze away from Wooyoung as you bite your lower lip. San who has been watching your actions move closer to you.

Just by looking at you, he can sense that you are keeping something inside your heart and mind, and he needs to know about it.

“What exactly are you thinking, y/n?”

Your head hang low. The frown on your face clearly shown that you are still puzzled with everything that had happened.

You play with your fingers as you contemplates if you should or should not let your guard down – and the earlier won.

“I… I don’t want to be labelled as a stealer. Besides, this thing is… rare.”

Wooyoung softens listening to your reasoning. He did not know you would feel that way when San told you about their feelings towards you.

He thought that you are disgusted with the idea. He bite his inner cheek and clenches his fist. He is mad at himself for misunderstanding you.

In contrast, the older one chuckle to himself softly before standing in front of you and pat your head.

“But, don’t you think it’s special because this kind of relationship is rare?”

You puffs out your cheek a bit, but did not give any responds to him.

“Also, you aren’t a stealer. I told you, that we both love you and it’s solely on us. You did nothing wrong, my princess.”

It is understandable when a blush suddenly crept onto your face. No, it’s not peculiar for San use nicknames to call you. But, it is the first time he called you like that ever since that day.

Wooyoung squints his eyes a bit as he witness how shy you suddenly become. To say that he is jealous, well, yeah, he is, a bit.

Even though you tried not to be biased with any of the boys, he still envy San for having it easy. It feels like San knows what you feel and think – And that, annoys him slightly.

Without wasting any chance, he grabs your hand and put it against his face, his eyes lock with yours.

“Just come back home. We miss you. We rarely went back just because you weren’t there.”

You wanted to pull away but instinctively, you begin to caress Wooyoung’s face with your thumb. It is still soft, just like how you remembered.

You were lost in your thought until Wooyoung lean to your hand even more. Quickly, you take your hand away from his face, startling not only him but also San.

“I’m sorry, boys. But, I think I need more time.”

#wooyoung #san #woosan #ateez #wooyoung imagines #san imagines #woosan imagines #ateez imagines #wooyoung scenarios #san scenarios #woosan scenarios #ateez scenarios

[averyscarlet-blog]

Project Clypse

Hello there stranger! If you don’t know who I am, or you’re too lazy to read my name, I’m AveryScarlet! You can simply call me Avery or Av. And if you know me on fanfiction.net, mostly through my works Mercury Alchemist or Final Fantasy Versus XV, welcome! Now, for a while now, I’ve been wanting to write up my own original story. Issue with me, thanks to college in the past, I haven’t properly developed the mindset to write a full-blown novel. I’ve gotten so used to typing up a chapter or two in a month before publishing them that I can’t properly focus as an actual writer should.

As much as I want to focus on writing some of my fanfiction, I can’t because I’m focusing on studying for NCLEX. So if you’re waiting for the next chapter for FF Versus XV... It’s almost done! It’s just gonna take a while. But as you can see below, I’ve been working on something else. I’m sure you’re confused as to who these characters are in the chat and why I’m pushing so many out. Well. I’ll tell you. This is my way of practicing for a story I’ve been... REALLY wanting to write for a long time. It doesn’t have a definite name, so I’m calling it Project Clypse. Which partially comes from the group my main characters are in. 

Now, I thought of writing up their character bio’s but..... I’m not really that good at it as I used to be. I used to for when I was active in RP’s but I’m so rusty that I doubt I can keep up with whomever I’m chatting with. So, I’m just summarizing certain details you need to know about them! Not all of it because that'd be spoiling the story of every character. Now, with all that’s said and done, let me start explaining key points of Project Clypse.

Premise/Background

The story is centered on a world called Avarus, which you can say is sort of like Earth, except it was made with someone else's version of life. Or, it used to be. Avarus is one of the few remaining worlds that has an active patron God, who has chosen to go under the alias Belial. The world was originally created and governed by another, Belial’s younger sister, Soleil. After Avarus’ creation, and the birth of man, she was killed by an unknown assailant. But before she died, she was cursed to experience an endless cycle of death and rebirth into various random worlds. She will live a short mortal life, then die from either natural or unnatural causes.

According to Belial, this curse is bestowed only to Celetials who have performed a dire sin. While there is no definite way to lift the curse, Belial hopes that by locating and retrieving her while she's still alive, or at the very least obtain her soul, then he could find the proper means to spare his sister of her cursed fate and return Avarus's true patron Goddess. Because of her demise, life on the planet started to decay. To prevent its destruction, Belial forced the planet to stop rotating, hoping to delay it long enough for him to find Soleil.

However, there were dire consequences to this act. His actions indirectly causing the world to cease rotating; time became non-existent as a result. This, inevitably, killed off most of the remaining life in the world due to the imbalance of the ecosystem as one half of the planet became stuck in perpetual darkness, and the other being dried up caused prolonged exposure to the sun's light.

The only life that Belial was able to salvage was her sisters creation; humanity. Those that survived after the planet ceased its rotation found themselves unable to age. They can still die, but their bodies will no longer decay. During the first Century since Soleil’s death, the God went through various countermeasures to keep the world and the life still inhabits it safe until he can find his sister.

However, a strange plague began to manifest. Soon, it began to devour most of the remaining populace, creating a dark entity in the process; the Astrals (will explain in a different section). 

While Belial was successful in wiping out the infected, the God realized that he cannot keep the last remnants of humanity safe. Not while there are still Astrals lurking about. So he put them to sleep, sealed them in a place that only he knows. However, because of the sudden absence of time and life, the world began to deconstruct itself each time he departed in search for her in other worlds. Realizing he cannot manage Avarus and search for his sister at the same time, he found an alternative. Since his conception, he had noticed a peculiar type of living being popping up now and then in a variety of sentient species. So he sought them out. 

Eventually, gathered enough to temporarily replace humanity and trick the world itself into thinking life still exists. At first, he gathered adults since he knew nothing can grow in Avarus once they’ve lived in the world for a certain period of time, but because of their attachments to the worlds they originated from, it was difficult to convince them to remain. Then he thought up of another solution, one which he knew his sister would frown upon. Children. With their young minds, they’ll easily forget their place of origin and can be easily trained in the necessary skill in traversing through different worlds. And, after learning that the Astrals have branched out to those said worlds, learn how to handle their sudden enemy. 

Their goal is simple; to locate and, if possible, retrieve Soleil and eradicate the Astrals.

Main Characters

Note: Just in case you did not know... I. Cannot. Draw. As much as it pains me to do this, but I need you guys to have some sort of idea on how they look like. I cannot find the original artists of the artworks; mostly because google imaging is shit and Pinterest tends to... Send you elsewhere. So of you know the artist, please PM me so I can give them credit. If you know they don't want their works republished, I'll remove it and try to figure something out. I take no credit whatsoever on the art! I merely scoured the internet for any references I could use. If you're wondering why I'm not.using actual people... You know how awkward that is?

Anyway, much of these are concepts so expect changes in the future. I tried to discuss as little as possible about each character. And let me tell ya.... That was a lot I had to cut off, so if the explanation is a bit messy, that was from me trying to select what to remove to avoid revealing too much.

. . .

Sound

‘I have to be better. I have to be a better leader. I have to be a better lover. I have to be a better sibling. If I don’t... then I’ll lose everything again. If I must, I’ll sacrifice my identity for a third time if it means protecting them.’

Credits to: T0Q00(?) - Okay, on Pinterest it has the person’s name AND link to their twitter account. The thing is... it’s empty. Their entire page is empty. At least I found the artist’s name?

Also known as the Glutton King, Sound is one of the leaders of his faction, Tunera Clypse and a member of Mythral. He is a first generation Nors. While not as lazy as Noise, he’s not really a fan of getting involved in fights with people. When it comes to killing Astrals; that’s an entirely different story.  

Outwardly, he displays laid back, playful, and very concerning outlandish behavior. And by outlandish, I mean his... eating habits. Sound likes to experiment with his stomach. He’ll do absolutely ANYTHING to eat whatever he deems as edible. He also - absolutely - lacks any sense of shame (ex. walking out of the shower and to his room without a towel, slapping Noise’s butt). Although limited to communicate via writing, he makes sure that every single thing he writes is worth reading. Many are even surprised at just how fast he writes his messages. Then again, after years of practice, it’s expected he’d adapt.

Sound is self-aware of the fact that he’s a fictional character and will randomly break the fourth wall, causing much confusion to his friends several times. While not as dark as his previous self, Fell, he maintains some of his views towards life and tends to be as vocal - via writing - of his previous self's beliefs.

As a Cursed Blood, his curse forces him to conceal his face behind a customized Fox Mask. Depending on the amount of facial skin that was exposed, a person can live up to several minutes to several hours before inflicted with sudden death. If a person were to see the entirety of his face, they will die on the spot from unknown causes. He has a Physical Curse as well, which causes him to inflict a certain degree bad-luck to whoever hears his voice. While it’s rarely anything life-threatening, Sound is forced to become selectively mute. Although he tries his best to remain silent, he tends to accidentally let it a few words or sounds slip. Which usually occurs when he sneezes, and when he does, it is immediately advised by his friends to duck and cover.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, he joined the faction Tunera Clypse and then gave up his original name, becoming the next Sound. Unbeknownst to him, his actions later in life has caused him to unknowingly become the Vessel of Gluttony. It is unknown if his eating habits is the reason he became the vessel or it’s the other way around. Either way, he has shown to be fully capable of controlling the abilities that comes with being a Vessel. Sound merely chooses not to use them.

. . .

Ayane Koronashi

“If my brother had left the orphanage that day without me, I would simply smile. If Ulric presented me his latest girlfriend, I’d smile. Smiling is all I can ever do without being a nuisance. I could never show them my pain. I want to cry but my curse renders me incapable of doing so. But now it’s better. I’m better.”

Also known as the Black Fox. Ayane is the younger twin sister of Sound. Like her twin, she is also a member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral; as well as a first generation Nors. Despite being an active member, unless accompanied by her brother, Ayane is rarely allowed to participate in any scouting or combat-related missions. The main reason for this is her curse. While also a Cursed Blood like her brother and some of their friends, the unnatural causes that led to sudden conversion to a cursed blood caused her condition to be unstable. At the beginning, she was unable to retain her original form and would take the shape of a fox.

After some time and practice, she has learned to maintain most of her former human appearance, leaving only a pair of fox ears to replace her human ears and a tail (not by choice) as an extra ligament. Not only that, some of her internal organs remain similar to that of a fox. Because of this, she is unable to eat certain foods that are potentially poisonous to her (or generally unhealthy). She was told that eventually, if nothing is done, she will permanently take the complete form of a fox. She cannot surgically remove the fox parts as they will simply grow back.

Side-note: No, they did not try or plan to remove her fox ears. The curse replaced her human ears so they cannot remove them without indirectly making her deaf.

Her personality is the somewhat similar to Sound’s, but is far more excitable and outgoing than her brother. Just like a fox, she is clever and witty, which she demonstrates many times during combat. She has a tendencyto steal things without her knowledge. While this isn’t necessarily kleptomania, as objects appear in her hands at random, she still tries get over her childhood habit. She does have a tendency to be reckless, though this is stems from her need to be useful as her curse leaves her unable to perform all of the necessary abilities that is required of a Nors.

Another thing to know is her intense hatred towards cats. Which will be explored at a later time.

As a Cursed Blood, she can take the form of a fox. While the size varies, depending on her emotional state, she is commonly seen to change into the size similar to an elephant. If she performs multiple transformations, she will regress to a regular sized fox and sleep for an extensive period of time. She has been recommended to avoid constantly rely on her full fox form as it will hasten the progression of her curse.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, she followed her brother and joined the same faction as him, but unlike him, did not join as a core member so she did not have to give up her original name. Because of the current state of her body caused by her Cursed Blood, her emotions has unknowingly lead her to become thenext Vessel of Envy.

. . .

Reihana Toelle Ur Kamaria

“Why was I born like this... what did I deserve to be cursed like this!? All I want is to hold someone without fearing I’ll crush them. I can’t be the receiver forever!”

Or Rei for short. Is a member of Mythral and is a second generation Nors. As a floater, Rei rotates between the three factions, but she usually works with Tunera Clypse. Known for her terrifying brute strength, Rei is feared by many and is challenged on a near daily basis. Because of her strength and seemingly indestructible nature, she is (much to her annoyance) sometimes used as a human shield. While she is able to take on an army by herself, Rei tries not to go all out in fear of accidentally killing her allies in the crossfire. In terms of mental maturity, aside from Xavier, she is slightly more competent and is level-headed enough to not participate in childish activities. Most of the time.

Rei prefers to ‘punch first, talk later’ when confronted, though the talking never happens as her opponents is either obliterated or immediately knocked out after one hit. While she can be aggressive at times, she merely acts out on this person's due to the rumors that were spread when word of her curse began to circulate. Those closest to her have witnessed her carefree and adventurous nature. She is also cautious and careful of her surroundings, becoming more thoughtful in the usage of her strength as a result.

As much as she loves the thrill and adrenaline that comes from combat, she prefers not to fight too often. Mostly because it usually leads to unnecessary mass destruction. She craves for proper physical contact, but due to her curse, she forces herself to avoid it as much as possible.

Being the physically oldest, next to Percy, she tends to act like the big sister of the group, which Rei has admitted she finds embarrassing. Still, she works hard in trying to act as moral support for her friends. That doesn’t stop her from losing her temper when a certain line is crossed.

As a Cursed Blood, she is cursed with immeasurable strength. Her strength doubles based on who or whatever is the strongest in a world that she sets foot in. That, of course, excludes Celestial’s as the strength of the divinity is almost non-existent. By default, back in Avarus, her usual strength is enough to crumble an entire building. In other worlds, it depends. To help control and regulate her strength during combat, she uses a large amount of Astral Dust to create form-fitting gauntlets around her lower arm. She was meant to become the Vessel of Wrath but was instead changed to be the candidate for the Vessel of Pride.

. . .

Perseus Vlahos

"I used to believe that being a hero will allow you to cement your place in history. But over time, I learned that the farther in time your name is shared in time, you become nothing more than a mere legend. Or worse, a myth. Stories can be altered, changed. If that’s the case, I’d rather not be remembered at all. I didn’t work this hard just to be written off as a bedtime story.” 

Christened under the name ‘Percy the Naive’ by his best friend, later life-long rival, Wilhelm, he is the current wielder of the legendary sword; Excalibur, and member of Infernum Poncitator. Grandson of Rayner, Percy is one of the few third generation Nors in Avarus. He is a kind young man and is respected amongst his peers (well, most of them) and superiors, so much so that he has been offered the position of leader of the faction. Percy refuses as not only deems himself unworthy, but out of respect for those that have lived in Avarus longer.

He displays many the ideal traits of a knight, eventually becoming viewed as an ideal knight by others. However, deep down, Percy perceives himself as the opposite. He feels he is a dishonorable fraud and is not proud of his status as Excalibur's chosen wielder. If he was given a chance to do it over again, Percy would immediately abandon his decision never search and locate the sword.

After joining Avarus, in a short span of time, Percy was able to easily establish himself as a sort of leader figure within his faction. While serious most of the time, especially during missions, due to his time with other Nors, has displayed a degree of patience and tolerance towards whoever he is assigned. Still, he never forgets their main objective and takes charge if he deems the assigned leader incompetent. Which happens more times than he refuses to count. He tries to maintain a cool head, but will severely reprimand others if the situation calls for it.

Proficient in the ways of the sword, he garnered the attention of (the then Mongrel) Mitchell. He was very reluctant in taking in a squire. But eventually, Percy relented after the younger boy attempted to fight against an Astral and nearly lost his life. He plans to one day pass down Excalibur to Mitchell once he gains the strength to surpass Percy.

At the moment, Percy is the current Vessel of Wrath.

. . .

Noise (***** Rallus)

“I tried all of my life to give my dad a reason why he shouldn't be treating his body the way he did. I tried all of my life to keep my friend in line so I'd never have to be the one to discipline him. And yet... If only I didn't try so hard, they'd still be alive.”

Author’s Note: Yeah I... legit do not know who this belongs to. There’s the artist’s signature so that’s the good thing. Problem is....

After escaping from the confines of his original world, Eingesperrt City, and, with the help Sound, joined Avarus and assumed the title of Noise. Unlike others that were gathered in the past, Noise is a regular human being. Something only Sound knows. Regardless of the danger, he became one of the leaders for Tunera Clypse, later joining Mythral after adapting to his new lifestyle.

He wears one of the Artifacts in order to copy and use only one ability of his choosing. As long as a piece of original user is within the Artifact, Noise can use it for as long as he wants. However, if its been removed and replaced with something else, the previous copied ability cannot be used ever again.

Since his recruitment, Noise adopted an extremely lazy personality. He’s so lazy that somehow even snoring consumes too much energy. To make sure he’s awake most of the time, Sound forced Noise to set up a sleep schedule, so that when he’s ready, he has enough energy to do SOMETHING. However, no matter where he is, he’ll take every opportunity to take a nap. He doesn’t care. As long as he gets to close his eyes, Noise is fine to sleep wherever, even if it involves napping righ at the edge of a volcano.

He’ll get annoyed if anyone that dares try to wake him up and he’ll be in a fowl mood for the rest of the day. The only exception is the fox girl and his lover. Despite this, he displays a certain degree of kindness. It’s just really hard to tell if what he’s doing is truly an act of kindness or he’s just too lazy to do things such as delivering a ‘motivational speech’. He can be blunt when he has to be, and he tends to come off as a jackass rude because of his personality. However, this is his way of showing he cares. Noise will flat out tell you if he dislikes you.

Another thing to know about him is his crude sense of humor. Combined with his blunt and rude nature towards people, mostly acquaintances and strangers, it always leads to various... Misunderstandings. Worst case scenario? A fight. He'd improve if he could, but he won't.

Look, if you haven't figure out that he's lazy after reading all this, gooood luck.

For reasons unknown, despite becoming the next Vessel of Sloth, it remains dormant within him. They thought of extracting it to learn the causes that led up to its current dormant state, but Sound intervened in time as he knew that extracting it by force will kill the the vessel.

. . .

Michael/Raphael/Gabriel/Uriel/Saraqael/Raguel/Remiel/etc

‘Dragons are raised under the false pretense that they are the supreme species above all others. But that merely obscures the truth; the truth that we’re just as vulnerable as anyone else. There are various ways to kill aside from piercing our hearts with a spear.”

Author’s Note: Just so you know, HE’S BLONDE and has green eyes! This was the only option I have that closely resembles how I envisioned him! There was another because he gives off the same atmosphere when you look at him but... he’s from an otome game. And I only learned that recently so, if the same goes for this one? WELP. Oh and he has patches of dark brown scales on part of his skin.

Neither a Quietus Nors nor a resident of Avarus, Michael is a dragon. His version of his race if capable of transformation, but can only change into the form of the last creature they devoured. Whole. Rather than his true form, in order to remain working in Avarus, chose to work in the form of the former Prince of Edrakon, a world where dragons were enslaved and cruelly treated as mere objects. Despite his appearance not being his own, he maintains an intimidating and powerful aura, which is easily distinguishable even within a large crowd.

Due to the high esteem he holds towards his race and his pride as a Dragon, he can come off as domineering, even becoming critical towards other versions of his race if he finds something illogical or nonsensical in their appearance and their abilities. While he does act this way, he finds it absolutely disgusting to find dragons place themselves in a position of power and abuses their power in controlling another species. Another aspect of him is that he looks down on dragons with physical defects, which is mostly directly aimed as himself due to his extremely poor eyesight. Thus, forcing him to rely on his human form to watch glasses. He also has a very confusing naming system; where he changes his name based on the date, time and temperature.

Micheal held the potential required to become a Nors, but because of his age, he was unable to undergo the necessary steps to fully integrate into Avarus. While others are reluctant to have him join their ranks, several others, for different reasons, allowed him to remain. This eventually allowed others to accept his addition to the organization. 

As the one in charge of organizing and handling most of Avarus’ internal affairs, a job the Nors, even the Ex-Anima/Animus, are reluctant in taking up such an important position; he takes his job very seriously. Although he does express some contempt towards humans, this does not extend to the people he works with. He cares about them to a certain degree, which is shown by he constantly reprimands whoever acts risky during a mission.

He is the current Vessel of Pride, something he only learns of later on. Despite the fact Micheal is a vessel, Belial believes this is only temporary. He isn’t particularly close with Belial, but he respects the God enough to follow his orders.

. . .

Ulric Soknawo

'In my tribe, I was considered an outcast. You can thank the unnatural union that birthed me. Now? It hasn’t changed much, but at least I’m no longer considered the runt of the pack.’

Whose other name is Kuckunniwi, is a former member of the Aniwaya Tribe. In their world, his people are Natives who worshipped a guardian Wolf Spirit. According to them, in return for their unyielding loyalty and devoted nature, it granted the people with the power to take the form of the spirit they have worshipped for many generations. So long as they use that power to protect the forest, it shall provide them protection. Ulric is the third, second youngest, illegitamate son of the Tribal chief Tamaska and grandson of Wolfram.

As per tradition, all tribesmen are given two names, one for their human form while the other is for their inner wolf. Despite being allowed to use either name like others of his tribe, he refuses to be use his wolf name due to the meaning behind it. After being discovered by Ayane, she brought and recruited him to Avarus. Ulric is considered to be a Third Generation Nors due the fact his father was (oddly) not born a Nors, or had to potential to be converted into one.

Ulric tends to act like the stereotypical lone-wolf, choosing to remain in solitude and observe from a distance. He likes to spend his quiet time alone, though he does allow others to sit next to him when asked. Many have pointed out that he never smiles, but, as much as he hates to quote Noise, states that if there is no reason to smile, there is no reason to put so much effort in abusing his facial muscles.

As much as he loves being a wolf, he finds certain aspects of his second nature to be... aggravating. Depending on the season and the weather, it deals a the effects his wolf instincts on his human nature. Because of the two separate natures continually clashing, he tends to act irritable and his temper worsens, especially during the night. Ulric holds a strong belief that one’s nature, regardless of your race, should never control a one's personal feelings.

He holds an unyielding loyalty to his loved ones, almost to the point of willing to kill for them if the situation calls for it, but his actions are subtle and tends to be the exact opposite of how he truly feels. Only two people in his life have been able to decipher his behavior, and he cherishes them for it. Ulric has a bit of a temper as well but is able to keep it in check. His temper, however, is what led him to becoming a Cursed Blood. His curse forces him to foresee the deaths of whomever he romantically falls in love (or at least feel an interest) with.

Any attempts at interfering will only hasten their death.

. . .

Xavier Wozwald Hawthorne

'Murderers are dumbasses, always killing because of their unchecked emotions and pented up desires. Hence why most of them clumsily try to hide their crime. Serial killers are more... sofisticated with their craft, but their ego always gets in the way. If they weren’t complete dumbasses, they would have lived a long comfortable life. I should know.’

Note: Yes, this is obviously Vflower. Did I know that before? No. Do I plan to change the art reference? Yes, but only when I find one that’s not a god dang real-life person’s online avatar. XD Seriously, each time I thought I found one... it’s an utaite or vtuber.

Is a member of Mythral and a First Generation Nors. Like Rei, he is a Floater, which allows him to particiate in mission for all three factions. However, he prefers to work with those in Tunera Clypse as, since they mostly handle scouting and recruiting missions. As long as he doesn’t remain in Avarus for too long, he's fine with accepting any mission related to Tunera. Xavier will still accept missions from other factions, but that's merely to fill up his quota.

Despite appearing around the age 12-14; which was not by choice, Xavier is in fact mentally older than most of his fellow Nors. Known for his sharp tongue, Xavier is one of the few known Nors to have been granted permission to travel outworld immediately after undergoing the Ascenscion Ceremony.

Due to the experiences his past life went through, Xavier has a very grim outlook of the world and displays little to no respect towards authority figures. And that includes his current patron God; Belial, which only worsens after being told by the God that he is unable to help Xavier grow into the appropriate intended size. Unlike most Nors, he displays a high degree of critical thinking and intelligent. He is, if not more, level-headed than one of his friends; Percy. Though that doesn’t stop the teasing. While confident in his abilities in terms of combat, Xavier knows the limits of his current smaller body.

In order to compensate, he creates an excessively large scythe as compensation, but he's too proud to admit this.

Because of his level of maturity, he has been labeled as a 'Midget Grandpa'. Which he fails at trying to prove otherwise by collecting certain tthings that are considered out of date by their standards. Eventually, it became a soft of hobby for him to collect such things.

Xavier tends to display a sadistic nature while in combat, choosing to taunt his opponent by constantly pointing our their obvious flaws deficits and toy with them until the last minute. Most times, he will use his child-like appearance to his advantage to further torment his opponent/victim. Comically enough, if his opponent is a cold-blooded criminal, Xavier will compliment and , depending on their actions, congratulate them; much to the annoyance of those involved.

Like Sound, he has both a Physical and Blood-based Curse, but unlike  the latter, Xavier was born with both. His Physical Curse has caused severe permanent scarring on his right arm, making it appear similar to third degree burns. If freed from any type of coverage, such as bandages, his arm will painfully be set a blazed, forcing him to conceal his arm at all times. As a Cursed Blood, Xavier has a similar effect of a Siren, except his hypnotic singing forces someone to commit suicide. Every time he uses this curse, he temporarily falls into a coma.

. . .

Succu(bus) Kilmer

Like her name suggests, Succu is a succubus, but belongs to a different version of her species. Due to being a demon, she is forbidden to reveal her true name. Succu is neither a Nors nor a Cursed Blood. She’s more of an illegal immigrant after sneaking her way into a group of Nors when they were scouting for potential recruits. There have been many attempts in trying to relocate her back to her original world, but she is able to seduce her attackers and slip away. Eventually, Belial declared that she will be allowed to remain as a resident, so long as she contributes in their mission to locate Soleil.

While they do seduce those of the opposite sex, her source of food is not as grotesque as several others. She does seduce her victim, but moves her body in a way that her victims find alluring. Succu will then massage certain parts of their body as a means to relax them. To assure that they will not attempt to escape, she will release pheremones that nulls the victims senses. What she devours isn’t the flesh of her victim nor does she devour their soul, she merely devours the emotions she was able to invoke until her hunger is quenched.

Succu is flirtaceous and very... very.... VERY- Well, you get the point. While she doesn’t flaunt her beauty, she does know how to use it to her advantage. However, despite many approaching her, Succu has only eyes for one, and is willing to wait as long as possible for that person to reciprocate her feelings. Succu, although assertive and open with her feelings, is not the type to force them onto someone.

She does like to express herself by getting physical - very physical. Not the way that you’re thinking, you perverts. She finds it more convenient to allow her actions to talk rather than saying things verbally. Since she’s an outsider, she notices several things that not even Pery or Ulric have noticed, and both are outsiders as well considering the fact they grew up outworld before being recruited. Regardless, she remains silent for the sake of remaining by her beloved’s side.

Succu is often mistaken as the Vessel of Lust due to her nature, and, on her part, finds it’s tiresome to prove that she is not.

Side Characters

Tank Mortem

A former member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral, Tank has been assigned to act as one of the engineers in maintaining the Infernian Generator due to his body’s condition and the issues of his mental state. He seldom participates in missions but, despite being given strict orders not to, joins in anyway. Due to the limits of his mental capacity, Tank has difficulty interacting with others. Quite literally.

Beatrix Staccato

Is a researcher and inventor in charge of the tools and weaponry utilized by most Nors and Ex-Animus. Having taken over most of the unfinished projects since the passing of his master, Beatrix has dedicated all of his time in improving the welfare of the world and its inhabitants. However, most of his experiments tend to be a bit... over the top. If he’s not thinking of new potential products that may benefits the Nors, he’ll make whatever comes at the top of his head, and most of the time it’ll lead him to make the most outrageous and unnecessary items. Beatrix prefers to remain in his lab/home at all times, rendering his social interactions with the three factions to be limited via holographic meetings.

‘Nyx’ Pierrot

Leader of Vanidicus Persona, she is one of the oldest Nors - next to Constantine - making her the default leader of her faction. Much about her is a mystery. Even her behavior can be viewed as... questionable. Not outlandish, that’s Sound’s department. Her behavior is so odd that it’s enough to baffle even Belial. She takes her leadership over her faction very seriously, however, as part of her nature, the requirements in joining and maintaining your membership vastly deviates from the original. However, looks can be deceiving. Aside from her seniority, there is a reason why she was given the position of leader.

Mitchell Pierrot

He prefers to be called as ‘Mitch’ after being told, and proven, by his sister how much of a tongue twister his name is if repeated constantly in a single conversation. While he is the younger brother of Nyx, Mitch opted to become a submember of Tunera Clypse upon undergoing the Ascension Ceremony to be in the same faction as his mentor, Perseus Vlahos. Compared to the Nors in his batch, he is viewed as weak by many as he is unable to perform the abilities that is expected of him to develop after becoming a Nors.

Constantine L. Refrain

Nothing is truly known about him except that he’s a chronic smoker. Nobody truly knows who he is, no one even knows which faction he belongs to. It’s nearly impossible to question these things as he is constantly surrounded by a shroud of - barely tolerable - smoke. All that is known is that he’s been around longer than most of the Ex-Animus. Constantine usually frequints the Silent Siren Bar, staying there for hours until he’s either drunk or needs to receive another pack of cigarretes from Beatrix. He says they’re for medicinal purposes buuuuut...

I’m pretty sure black smoke isn’t normal.

Stefan Mal Sorcier

Is Percy’s second pupil. Although, it was more like Percy was forced into taking in another after his continual refusal to become leader of Infernum Poncitator. Outwardly, he is aloof and always appears smiling, which unsettles Mitchell even when they’re alone. His politeness is found unusual by many and causes others to feel wary around him. Even the dragon finds himself is unable to remain in the same vicinity as the young man. Despite being full of many secrets, Percy accepts him as is and tries his best to teach him all he can, which Stefan appreciates.

Kyline Necro

Considered as the mascot ambassador of Avarus, like the soul that was fused with her upon birth, she mostly lounges around and has little participation in any missions in and out of Avarus. This has caused her to be disliked by many, most especially Ayane. The only person Kyline has gotten close to is Noise; mostly because they share the same favored sleeping spot. On a side, she acts a physician, or surgeon if you like to get technical. She has a strange fondness of picking apart and replacing specific limbs with doll parts.

Yu-Yan Chi Ryou

Was once one of the strongest Nors from Xavier’s batch until he was inflicted by an unknown disease during one of his missions. While there is no name for the disease, it has caused much of his bones to undergo crystallization; rendering him immobile due to the pain that comes from even the smallest of movements. Since he is incapable in participating in any activities, Yu-Yan has since been forced to be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life.

Anita Eine Kleine

Is the fighting instructor of the Mongrels and a member of Infernum Poncitator. Anita is a highly-skilled caster, able to conjure and manipulate various elements. She absolutely hates the term ‘witch’, even going as far as to cast a minor curse in making a person temporarily mute if they refer to her as one. Which Sound found rather offensive when he found out about the curse, something she deeply apologized for. She participates in some Scouting Missions but only if personally requested by someone from Tunera Clypse.

Victor Stein

Is Beatrix’s (only living) research assistant. He is the sole survivor of the Night of the Black Moon. Although having physically recovered, the damage to his mental state has left a deep scar on his psyche. He fears yet obsesses over the sensation of pain. There is not one instance where he isn’t found sowing over his own intact skin. While Victor knows his addiction found uncomfortable by others, he finds it extremely difficult to control his urges.

Wolfram

Grandfather of Ulric and most of his siblings, he is an Ex-Anima (or retired Nors) and a former member of the original Mythral. As the more experienced and one of the longest surviving resident of Avarus, he acts as a mentor to those who seek his guidance. However, in terms of combat, his skills are very limited as he has become permanently stuck in his wolf form. The only grandchildren he's ever personally met are Ulric and Seeing, who have both ironically became his favorite. While acting as a mentor, he is rather strict, constantly parting lessons in order to make sure none make the same mistakes he committed when he was younger, many of which he refuses to share.

Diantha Anemone

Despite being still a Liberi, Dia still participates in many activities meant to be done only by Nors. She originally wanted to become a part of Tunera Clypse due to the many adventures imparted by Sound. But after having a first hand experience in one, it traumatized her to the point where she wants to merely work as a Librarian, a position many people avoid.

Echo & Yell

Fellow teammates of Sound and Noise. As part of the four heads leaders that overwatch many of Tunera Clypse's activities, both in and out of Avarus. They mostly take charge of delegating the members while the other two take an active role in leading many scouting missions off-world. Contradicting her name, like Sound and Noise, her personality is the completely opposite. Due to her sociophobia, she is extremely shy and is unable to speak when talked to, only whispering her sentences as she talks. Yell, however, is the only one whose personality fits the mantle she inherited. Due to her curse, she has to raise her voice after every two hours. If not, she will fall into a coma, and she can only be awaken by *************.

Important Figures

Belial

Credits to: @airtrees0507 (Again, another artist who... disappeared from the internet. How do I keep finding refrences where the artist is just gone?)

Is a Celestial and the younger brother of Soleil. However, despite his godly status, he does not have any of the expected gifts. Neither a god of creation, life, or death, he has been given the title God of Void by his peers. Because of this, he is incapable of maintaining Avarus by himself, forcing him to use alternative (and questionable) means in preserving the world his sister created. Like his title, Belial is unable to express emotions, giving blank demeanor. He does, however, hold some semblence of emotions within him. Yet despite this, he has little to no understanding of life, death and emotions. Even after centuries since he over his sister’s role as Patron God, he still has no understanding to all living things, almost to the point of coming off as insensitive and heartless.

Belial has a deep devotion to his sister, having gone through great lengths to make sure to maintain her world and willingly sacrifice the lives of many. Despite knowing her distaste towards such acts, he holds onto the hope of one day finding her.

Soleil

Credits: Um... Lucare Eu??? Sorry, I’m just basing it off the signature. Once again, can’t find the artist themself so...

The true patron goddess of Avarus and the older sister of Belial. Aside from her status as the original creator and caretaker of her world and the life that once flourished within it, not much is known about her. While her exact cause of death is unknown, she was cursed to live an endless cycle of death and rebirth in various worlds. In order to restore the world she created and loved dearly, Belial dedicated his life in searching for her soul and freeing her of her curse. As a Celestial, she was said to have chosen to take the form of her first ever creation and first mortal friend. 

It is said that, despite having blessed with the gift of creation, she was known to be a lonely goddess. Those that new her describe as someone that’s physically there but is spiritually detached.

The Oracle

Is a title given to those with the ability to commune and guide the spirits to the Empyrean Plain, more specifically Avarus’ residences due to the absence of Soleil. The Oracle acts as the divine anchor on the world to aid Belial in prolonging the world’s existence. They are also the main source of Belial’s divine power; both of which are maintained through her prayers. The gender and species of the Oracle is non-specific, but it if preferred by Belial if they are humanoid and have the ability of speech for the sake of communication.

The current Oracle is Aniela Fischl, who, unlike her predecessors, is able to foresee various futures. She does so by carefully peeking through the leylines and selects various possibilities that solely benefit Avarus. No one is allowed to meet her except Belial and her assigned Seekers.

The Seekers

The guardians, caretaker, and acting medians between the Oracle and the residents of Avarus. Their duty is to ensure that the chosen Oracle remains within the Spiral Tower and that he/she fulfills their duty, even going as far as to grant their wish regardless of the consequenses. Each Seeker has only one desire, and that’s to protect the Oracle at all times.

Races

Liberi

Age Range: Birth or 5 to 10 years

Although that is the official term, ‘Mongrel’ is what they are commonly referred as. It is the used for the for the children taken to or born in Avarus. Mongrels spend most of their young lives training within the safe walls of the Aldebaran Academy. They are forbidden from leaving as, according to Belial, they are the extremely fragile during this point of their lives. Regardless of their age, depending on how well they’ve performed in training, they will be given the right of undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. Those who fail are xxxxxxxx xx.

Due to their young age, their behavior is more sporadic than that of a normal child. Their reflexes are enhanced, almost to the point where it becomes difficult to contain them. Mongrels lack common sense so they tend to act out without fully understanding the impact their actions have. While childish and friendly by nature, Travellers are advised to approach with caution. Those who act beyond the expected norm are called Prodigies.

Quietus Nors

Age Range: (Physically) 14-19, (Mentally) 10 or above

Or simply called, Nors. After their graduation, every Nors is immediately sent to work. Depending on the final results of their training prior to undergoing the ceremony/procedure, each is individually assigned into one of the three factions ; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona, and lastly, Tunera Clypse (formerly called Tunera). Those that are assigned to neither of the factions are assigned to more menial jobs alongside the Ex-Animus,

Despite their young minds, they have quickly adapted into their new forms. Due to time becoming almost non-existant in Avarus, Nors age at a rapidly slow rate. Though known to be childish by nature due to the gap of their young minds to their bodies, they dangerously lack empathy and display little to no compassion and remorse towards others. In worst cases, some act selfishly on their own accord. On a positive note, they lack any emotions that may hinder their mission in locating Soleil; such as fear.

Only two of the three current generations of Nors differ greatly from the first:

First Generation Nors - Are those converted or directly born within Avarus with the blood of two Nors. Those born in the first generation share two specific physical characteristics; raven black hair and golden eyes. They all share the same abilities upon conversion/birth, but it depends on the individual which ones they should master. Unless they happen to be a Cursed Blood, they are unable to obtain different abilities to call their own. They are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Second Generation Nors - In terms of personality, they are considered half as bad as those in the first gen. Unlike the previous, second generation Nors are considered slightly weaker, however, they have a better chance of obtaining other abilities outside of Avarus. Their hair is slightly lighter shade of black but their eyes remain the same. They too are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Third Generation Nors - While rare, they do tend to appear once in a while. It’s not exact how one falls into this category. The closest is being the grandchild or who has an anscestor that was a Nors. Because of their circumstances, these Nors are far weaker as they cannot use any of the standard abilities. Third Generation Nors are far difficult to locate as their potential doesn’t surface until they are of a much later age, rendering them incapable of taking necessary training to hone their abilities and undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. They do not share the common personality or physical traits of a Nors. One thing every Nors in this generation share are sky blue eyes, which emit a faint glow when in the dark.

Ex-Animus (or Anima for singular)

Age Range: (Physically) 30 to 40, rarely appears in their early 20′s

Are individuals who are retired from their duties as a Nors. Although Nors generally age at an excessively slow rate (due to the effects of Avarus), after a number of cycles (which refers to the number of batches that underwent the Ascension Ceremony), they will be given the order to retire. Regardless whether they are willing to or not, there is nothing they can do once the order has been issued. Once one becomes an Ex-Anima, they are completely cut off from their original faction and are unable to leave Avarus for the rest of their life.

Not only that, they are unable to defend themselves like they used to as they can no longer control Astral Dust and use the abilities from their time as a Nors,Basically.  Basically, Ex-Animus’ are left to fend for themselves.

Factions

Every Nors is allowed to join any of the three factions; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona , and Tunera Clypse. There is an option to not join any of the factions; they are called ‘Floaters’.

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed

   art by @starker-sorbet​          a snugglefic for @mrstarksbaby​                   

                              Chapter Two:  Fifteen

3:  The Author Of All Your Misery

The next night he was back on the floor, of course.  Tony spoke to him from the blackness underneath the bed and soon was emerging from the darkness like an inkblack cloud.  Peter steadfastly closed his eyes until he looked like Tony again, and then Tony was beside him on the floor, clutching Peter’s arm with both hands like a drowning man and sucking vigorously at the veins on his wrist.

From there they crept into Peter’s bed, moving under the covers and keeping their foreheads together, whispering.  Peter lay on Tony’s left, leaving his right arm lying between them to give Tony better access to the ring finger on his left hand.  Sometimes Tony sucked the last two fingers into his mouth, sometimes he only suckled at the fingertip.  It gave Peter a very strange feeling, but he was getting used to it.

“Are you really a demon?”

 Peter asked when he was brave enough.

Tony looked into his eyes for a moment before he answered. “’Spheres’ are now called ‘stars’ and ‘planets.’  The ‘sun’ is now called ‘star’.  The college is now called “High School.”  I do not yet know what I am called now.  

“My novice magician,” he said gently, stroking Peter’s lips with the tips of his fingers.  “You have yet to tell me.”

“I told you I am not a magician.”

Tony smiled wryly.  “You also told me of the alchemy you used compel your make-seem volcano to erupt for a scholar’s prize, but lost the prize because your volcano erupted too violently and created a catastrophe…”  

“That was not… that was just science… that was so embarrassing.  You can drink all of that embarrassment. I don’t want to remember it.”

Peter turned in Tony’s arms, pressing his back to Tony’s chest, and was silent for a moment, thinking.  Tony’s hand played idly with the sleeve of Peter’s pajamas, sometimes slipping beneath it, and did not speak.

Peter had spent the day searching his memories, and then his journal, for the story Tony had told of a classmate named Wager.  Peter knew one boy named Martin Wagner, but he was one year older and never really talked to Peter.  And Peter couldn’t remember the last time he was told he couldn’t make a long distance phone call was too expensive – he was allowed one half-hour phone call a month to Ned as part of his allowance.

But in his pile of letters to and from Ned he found it.  He spent hours rereading the letters that Ned had written to him, and the copies of letters he had written to Ned.  And there it was.  Buried in the reports of the students at Devil’s Hollow High, including every student in Peter’s grade (there weren’t many.  Ned was fascinated at the idea of knowing the name of EVERY student in your grade.)  A description of Martin Wagner was there too, even though he was in a grade above.  The memories were there – the memories that no longer resided in Peter’s brain.  

Martin, the older boy who had been to Peter’s favorite museum in New York City and brought the postcard he had bought there for Peter to see.

Martin, who was in the 4H but knew plenty of science when it came to animal husbandry, and thus just enough to hold a decent conversation.

Martin who “said crude things about girls” but also was good for a lengthy conversation/argument about what MIGHT happen in the last Star Wars movie.

Peter pieced the rest together from what little facts stood out in his memory.  Martin was coming over to spend the night.  Peter was excited because he hadn’t had a sleepover since New York City. The phone ringing and Uncle Ben being told that Martin wasn’t coming, Martin’s father giving the flimsiest of excuses.  Uncle Ben swearing and stomping (a horror in itself, Uncle Ben rarely swore) and ranting about the ignorant, superstitious people of the town.  “They really give credit to those tall tales about Evan Post and that witch nonsense?  We live in a farmhouse, not a ghost story.”

Peter, slipping in quietly (timid because there were raised voices in that room, he was always timid around raised voices) and meekly asking if he could just call Ned on the phone instead, but being told that wasn’t possible. “You know long distance is too damn expensive.”

Had Peter cried?  Had he talked back, or actually raised his voice?  Had he scolded Ben and May for moving him away from New York City, away from all his friends (and all the decent libraries!) and a school with an actual science club?  Away to a notorious haunted-house that made him a pariah at school?  

Had the damn broke?  Had he actually yelled at them, finally after bottling up his feelings in silence for so long?  Something must have happened, because he was sent to his room so very rarely.  He had thrown himself on the floor by the bed and cried, he remembered that.  He remembered it, because he remembered the Thing That Lived Under The Bed had come and licked away his tears.

It was too alarming to watch as it emerged from under the bed, so Peter had closed his eyes.  The tongue that licked his face clean was small and sandpapery, and Peter quickly concluded that one of the cats had actually come inside and hidden under his bed with Tony. A cat that smelled of burned incense and earth.

He remembered that cat-tongue against the pulse in his wrist, too, although he couldn’t remember putting his entire hand under the bed.  It licked against his wrist for so long, he remembered, waking up and falling asleep again while he lay on the floor.  May had found him the next day, asleep with one hand under the bed.

That much he remembered.  That much was clear.  What came before?  was impossible to tell.  Each memory felt like something pretend, like a book he had read a long time ago and never really believed.  Tony claimed he had been punished by being “sent to his room” which meant he must have said something wrong to his Aunt and Uncle, but he couldn’t tell what was memory and what was imagination.  He didn’t remember a single conversation with Martin.  

Tony had taken it all.

“I am the author of all your misery,” Tony murmured, combing his long fingers through Peter’s hair.

“No, not really,” Peter assured him, thinking of all the reasons he had been so miserable since moving from New York City to Devil’s Hollow.  It wasn’t Tony’s fault Peter read so fast, or that the library in this town was so small, or that the librarian was so hateful.  It wasn’t his fault Peter only wanted to talk about theoretical physics or science fiction and now lived in a town where neither seemed to matter.  It wasn’t Tony’s fault the boys at school wanted nothing to do with him, any more than it was Peter’s fault he didn’t know a lot of dirty jokes and didn’t enjoy passing around stolen Playboys behind the school.

Tony propped himself up on ones elbow and began stroking Peter’s face with gentle fingertips.

“Your schoolmates shun you because of me.”

“No, they do that because they think I live in a haunted house.”

Tony used two fingers to turn Peter’s head toward him, looking into his face.

“You do live in a haunted house, Peter.  I am haunting it.  I am the author of your sorrows.”

“So… it’s true?  But… are you a ghost?” Peter said, turning around again.  He rested one hand on Tony’s forearm, feeling the muscle through the fabric of his billowy white shirt.  It seemed very thin, certainly it was thinner than Peter’s arm, but it was thicker than it had been the night before, in the dream.   In the dream, there had been nothing but skin and bone.

“Are you dead?”

“I am not dead,” Tony answered, caressing Peter’s arms as well. “I do not die.  I sleep.  I can sleep for a very long time.”  

“You’re not Evan Post?”

“Evan Post is dead.”

“Was he a witch?”

“No.”

“What was he?”

“He was a nothing,” Tony said as he stroked a lock of Peter’s hair behind one ear, then stroked it again to keep it in place.  They lay very close together, forehead to forehead as he spoke. Sometimes Peter reached out to stroke Tony’s chin, running his fingertips against the short-cropped beard.

He still wasn’t brave enough to do more.

“His forefathers had been apprentices of low rank in an order that has no name.  That order had stolen books from another order.  There were many books, Hector Post had only taught his son to read one. Of that book, Evan Post could read little.  The Patriarch of the Post clan had summoned me.  I was tasked to take messages to the city, when it was called New Amsterdam.  But it is difficult to recall.  I was sent into the ground to sleep for long periods of time. “

“Wait, there are books about you?  Where are they?”

“They are burned.  The staff that he said did give the Patriarch power, he bade me drown in the lake.  I cannot retrieve it.  I am forbidden.”

“Is it true, the story of the dead pigs?”

Tony gave a crooked smile.  “Evan Post despised his neighbors.  Sent me to destroy their swine.  I was to devour them.  I was hungry enough of the first night.  And on the second.  But on the third I was too sated and could eat no more.  Too many carcasses.  I could not consume the bodies. I tried to tell him.  He would never listen.”

Peter swallowed hard and thought carefully before asking the next question.

“Tony, did… did Mr. Post task to you to kill his neighbors?”

Tony’s eyes had drifted closed as he told the story of the swine, but they opened slowly when Peter whispered his question.

Tony sat up a little on his elbow, reached out and combed his fingers through Peter’s hair again, then ran one firm hand down Peter’s spine until it rested in the small of his back.  He used that hand to move Peter forward slightly, bringing their mouths close together.

“Why do you ask me questions that vex you?”

“Did you?”

“Should I answer you, and bring you pain?”

“Does that mean you did?”

Gently Tony brought the fingers of Peter’s left hand to his mouth and kissed the tips softly, as if kissing them goodbye.  He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it again.

Then he nodded.

“How many?” Peter asked, his voice breaking.

“Eight.  Nine. Maybe a dozen.  I do not recall.  Oh sweet one…”

Tony reached for him as Peter pulled away, but then let go.  As Peter curled into a tight ball under the sheets Tony only stroked Peter’s shoulder blade with his knuckles and waited.

“How?” Peter managed through his tears.  He had decided when they first moved to the house that Evan Post had been a good person after all, just a very lucky many who also liked living by himself.  The prettiest parts of the house had been built by Evan Post, or so they had been told, including the beautiful massive dining room table that Aunt May loved so much, and the chest of drawers in her room.  Evan Post had built the large empty barn where Peter had spent so much time reading and watching the barn owls.  The dead man had become like an invisible friend in Peter’s imagination.  He didn’t want to know that his invisible friend had been a murderer.  

“And now I am the author of more pain,” Tony whispered, leaning over to kiss Peter on the shoulder.  “Please ask me no more.”

“Just tell me.”

As Tony told the story Peter couldn’t help himself.  He missed Tony’s arms the moment he left them.  Slowly he pushed himself back, inch by inch, until he was back in Tony’s embrace again.  He pulled Tony’s arms around him and played with the long, pail, tapered fingers as the man spoke.  

“Evan Post despised other people.  All people.  He left his home so rarely.  When he went into the village he was filled with hate and loathing and mortal terror. He would return here and I would drink it all from him.  Then he would forget all his fear of people and behold!  Off he would venture into the village again!  More for me to feast upon.

“But more than once he would remember his hatred for his fellow man and send me out to slay them.  Some had scorned him, others had mocked him.  Some simply enraged him because they insisted on engaging him in conversation.  One old biddie and merely asked him when he would marry.  He despised all humankind.  I was sent into their beds so that they would not rise again.”

Peter scrubbed the tears away from his face.  He knew it was ridiculous to mourn these people who would have been long-dead anyway.  Aunt May had explained what had happened in Devil’s Hollow when Evan Post had lived there. But World War 1 had just ended, and many people died in their homes, especially in the winter.  It was just that way back then.

“I have caused you so many sorrows.  Let me take them from you, I can make you forget.”  Tony said, nuzzling his ear.  He reached for Peter’s arm, pulling Peter’s wrist to his mouth, but Peter snatched it away.

“No.  No, I’m not going to forget this.  It’s important that I remember this.  It’s important to remember that it’s wrong.  It’s wrong to kill people, Tony.  You can never do it again.”

“Very well,” Tony said calmly.  He did not react to Peter’s sudden movement, nor the order Peter had hissed at him.  He settled his head back against the pillow and held Peter close.  He didn’t seem particularly concerned at all.

“Did Ev… did Mr. Post make you do other bad things?”

“My tender-hearted scholar.  He bade me kill the venomous snakes.  I devoured them by the score, convinced those I could not eat to dwell in other places. There were wolves in those days, though very few.  I was tasked to guard the animals.  Will you weep for the wolves and the serpents, too, sweet one?

“I’ll try not to.  Did Mr. Post know you were a demon?”

“The books he burned called me a demon.  Although his grandfather’s brother insisted I was a pagan god.  I enjoyed him.  The neighbors, when there were neighbors, called me Fae.  They left me milk and bread at the crossroads on their holy days. Evan’s grandmother called me the muse.  In New Amsterdam there were still natives at times, the Delaware, the Mohawk.  They called me Wendigo, when I was still allowed to consume the deer of the forest. But when the natives told stories of me, I was confined to the farm.”  

“Are you still keeping the rattlesnakes away?”

“I have not been tasked to in some time.  I convinced many generations of snakes to dwell elsewhere.  It seems they still remember.  Would you like them to return?  They are quite tasty.”

“No thanks.  Did you poison the wells?”

“I was never tasked to.  But I could tell him pure water from ill.  I protected the buildings from lightening.  I built many things for him.  He would build furniture but grow tired of it, and I was tasked to finish it.  He enjoyed building large things, I was left with the fine work.  Most often I was tasked to bring him news from the village so he need not venture there.  

“I protected the land, the pond and the forest beyond it.  I was given that task by his grandfather.  

“But as the years passed he created so very little.  Enjoyed very little.  There was so little to eat.  When I begged him to feed me he sent me into the forest to eat, or else cast me into the ground until he needed me again.  He lived for one hundred and twenty years.  Then when he died he burned his books and tried to cast me out.”  

Tony chuckled.  “But how does he cast without his spellbook?  His foolishness was always his undoing.  He tried to banish me back into the infernal realms, but why should I return there?  I have dwelt in the realms of men for so long.  I fought him.  He was unskilled.  He tried cast me into darkness, and so I sought out the darkness under the bed. He had no power to cast me further. It thought I had bested him.

“But then he was gone, and no one else came.  I could not consume his body, I had been forbidden.  No other magicians inherited me. I was all alone. I could not cast myself back to the infernal realms, and soon I was too weak to leave the darkness under the bed. I was trapped.

“Others came.  I made them fear.  I drank their fear.  But I could not touch them, so I could not take it all, not enough to make them forget what made them afraid.  They would become too afraid, and then I would be left alone again.  Time and time again it happened.  Unable to leave from under the bed I could not even venture into the forest to eat, only consume what poor fair found its way into the house. I feared I would be trapped forever.

“But Evan Post left a house that men would covet for generations.  Like a gingerbread house, drawing in little children for the witch to consume,” he said with a grin, kissing the side of Peter’s face.  “Wealthy men came to inspect it, I fed from their dreams of a quiet life of contemplation. Women would come to praise the art of the wainscoting, the furniture.  I fed from their admiration.  Workers would come, I would frighten them, then feed from their fear.  Wealthy families came to dwell here.  They were happy.  I could have fed from their happiness and left them plenty to spare. They had animals, I could have found enough strength to creep out on stormy nights and feed from them.  But I had feasted on fear for far too long.  I wanted nothing else.  I was so greedy.  I made them fear.  Frightening sounds, frightening words, frightening dreams.  So much fear to consume.  Then frightening images as well!  So much horror, so much terror to feast upon.  I made them fear too much.  Too many feasts.  They became too afraid, and so they left me.  My greed was my undoing.  I was left alone.  I cannot say for how long.  I have forgotten so much.  

“Then you came.”

He used one firm hand to pull at Peter’s arm until Peter turned in his arms.  Tony tilted Peter’s chin up with one crooked finger and brought their mouths close, and Peter found himself unable to look away from those dark eyes.

“You came, and I thought you would surely starve me.  You had no fear.  But you had a light the which I had not tasted since I was summoned to New Amsterdam.  Not since Simeon the Elder have I tasted so many questions.  My library-pilgrim.  My novice magician.  My Master Doctor.”

“I told you, Tony,” Peter whispered, suddenly nervous with Tony’s mouth so close to his own.  “I’m don’t have a Masters OR a Doctorate.  I’m still in high school.”  

“You know more now about the heaven above than any Master Doctor I ever served.  My scholar.”

“Tony…”    Peter’s mouth had gone completely dry, but the question burning in his brain was too big to ignore, so he dared himself to ask it out loud.

“Did you… drink my tears that night?”

“Of course, it is a form of your light.”

“And if you did drink by blood, literally, would that also be light?”

“No, that would be substance, and it would harm you.  But the sweat that forms at your brow,” he said gently, kissing Peter’s forehead again.   “If it were from fear or frustration, it would be light.”

“So… you’re saying that body fluids…”

He blushed and ducked his head.  Turned out he wasn’t brave enough to ask the question after all.

Tender tapered fingers lifted his chin and Tony leaned in to press their lips together, lapping gently into Peter’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.

He pulled away for a moment and Peter looked up into his face. Shyly, he smiled.  Tony smiled as well and repeated the action.  Peter stayed very still and let it happen, with one hand firmly gripping Tony’s shoulder, keeping him in place.  

Finally the action became too wet and Peter had to pull away, giggling as he scrubbed his face dry with his sleeves.  “Eww… that was worse than sucking on my fingers.”

Tony grinned and pulled him closer, holding him in strong arms until he fell asleep.

-----------------------

The Master (Post)

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ONE MORE - THE END OF CHAPTER TWO - TOMORROW

Questions, comments and constructive crit should be addressed to @witchwayisright​ where the story is being discussed.  

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MY FEELS:

@starkerprince – @starkeristheendgame – @dizziestofdaydreams – @twokinkybeans – @flush-styx – @silentsunplays​ – @statansterio -- @fleet-of-ships​ -- @castiruth​ -- @statansterio  -- @starkerthanreality​

If you would like to be added to the dinner menu please send me a note.  This list is being updated constantly.  Tony may need to be conjured to make all these links work.

#The Thing That Lives Under The Bed #Demon!Tony #thewitchway writes stuff #Starker

[butterflyinthewell]

I’m gonna lose followers. Oh well... a rant by me.

People who harass others about SHIPPING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS are irksome.

Preface: if you say you don’t want someone role playing a NOTP with you or sending asks about it, or you don’t want secret Santa stuff containing it, if you ask people not to suggest fics with that pairing for your fic collections, if you stay out of your NOTP’s pairing tags, if you choose not to interact with material related to your NOTP, if you blacklist the pairing tag and ask people not to tag your fanwork with your NOTP, if you heed warnings and don’t click something with material you don’t like, I do not have a problem with you.

But if you write novel long posts about why a ship is gross to you and tag the pairing so shippers see it, send people hate over their ships, reblog fanworks of your NOTP with nasty messages to the op of the post, if you make a blog all about hating that ship and anyone who ships it, claim it must be grooming, or if you call people pedophiles or abuse apologists because they wrote something morally heinous in fiction that they will most likely never do irl, I’m not gonna have much respect for you beyond you being a fellow person.

Guess what? Shit you hate is going to exist on the internet. If someone tags their work appropriately or tags with appropriate warnings, you should not be clicking on it and harassing them! They have done what is necessary to protect those pearls you want to clutch.

Banning all questionable material is not going to save people who are targeted by predators and criminals.

Calling people pedophiles because they ship a fictional minor with a fictional adult gives actual pedophiles who go after actual minors a hiding place. These days you can’t tell if someone is an actual pedo or got called one over a ship they ship. Pedos are totally banking on that.

Fiction is supposed to break rules and let people explore dark subjects that are morally messed up because you can close a book or close a website if it gets too weird for you. A child with a predator’s hands on them right this moment can’t click an x or close a book to stop it.

Think about that.

No one is forcing you to go read morally messed up stuff. Not clicking on someone’s creepy fic with your NOTP is nowhere in the same realm as turning a blind eye to actual predators predating on someone.

Running someone off a website because your ass is on fire about them writing a pairing you hate or whatever is not going to stop the bad shit happening in the real world.

Predators and criminals will use anything, so someone’s freaky babyfur smutfic that they wrote to troll a fan website in 1999 is hardly going to normalize bad behavior.

I swear some of you insult the intelligence of people with your moral abuse garbage.

Teaching people to recognize predatory behavior and what to do about it will actually help. Teaching people what is and isn’t a healthy relationship will help.

Remember how people called out Twilight for how unhealthy Edward’s behavior towards Bella was? I’m sure a lot of preteen and teen girls learned to open their eyes a bit more. And I’m sure others still enjoyed the books and movies anyway because it’s fiction. It is the job of parents and guardians to teach their children what is and isn’t healthy in a relationship, but the unfortunate problem there is that can fail if the parents aren’t in a healthy relationship.

That’s why there needs to be more discussions about “this is healthy, that might be fun in a story, but that is not healthy in the real world and anybody who treats you like that is waving abuse red flags” rather than attacking somebody by saying “you’re a monster for shipping that”.

The whole point of art in any form is to create an emotional reaction in the audience.

Fucked up fictional shit exists on the internet. Get over it. I think the fact that people get freaked out by weird stuff in fiction is a clear indicator that it’s not being normalized by that piece of fiction. Flailing about it is not helping anything except your ego. It’s not gonna help survivors who write messed up stuff to cope, it’s going to make them go more silent.

Imagine being someone with an abusive pedo parent who takes comfort in the SessRin ship and being called a pedophile for it, or seeing people in the tag call Sesshoumaru a pedophile. That’s triggering as fuck for somebody.

Imagine being a Starkster going through sexual abuse who takes comfort in the ship, and being called a pedophile for it. Imagine seeing people in the tag call Tony a pedophile. That’s triggering as fuck for somebody.

Imagine having the heinous thing that happened to you being turned onto you as an accusation by people on a moral high horse who forget what pedophile means. That is triggering as fuck for somebody.

Nobody owes you a trauma history in order to be ‘allowed’ to create and post morally messed up fanworks. It’s on YOU to check for warnings and keep scrolling if it’s so offensive to your sensibilities.

What’s better? Discussion of tropes that are harmful if done badly. That’s a place to start. Save the accusations for people who are knowingly doing harm to people and not caring that they’re doing harm.

Go after shit that is actually exploiting actual people right now instead of harassing creators whose trauma you don’t know. Tell pedos their attraction to kids is not a sexuality and they have no place in the LGBTQIA+ community. Warn minors away from MAPs/NOMAPs. Expose predators who have exploitative materials of actual real children. Teach people to recognize predatory behavior like grooming. Find ways to get people out of human trafficking. Question adults if you see them touching or treating a child in a way that doesn’t look right. If you’re a minor and somebody keeps sending you porn material or pictures of their genitalia after you said stop, remind them that you’re a minor and expose the shit out of them. If you’re an adult and know somebody is doing that to a minor you talk to online, help them expose that person. That’s not all you can do, but I can’t think of everything. There’s a lot you can do that will actually help people!

But telling someone not to create something questionable because a predator might misuse it is utter horseshit.

I can bet you anything that every single person who hounds others about their ships has a whole bunch of fucked up stuff they read and never talk about because they know it will get them run off by the same people they use as shields against scrutiny.

I’ve read fucked up shit that I enjoyed because it was done well, but I can grasp that it is not okay to do the same thing in the real world and I would be horrified if I saw somebody doing the same thing in the real world. I am able to experience that moment of being horrified, sit with it and see where the fanwork takes me with that feeling.

I say this after I have just read an awesome morally gray Inuyasha fanfic called “Devour Prometheus” by ladybattousai on AO3. It’s gorey, there is murder, there is abuse, there is exploitation, there are allusions to animal trade and it’s the darkest thing I ever laid eyes on. My stomach twisted several times. It’s a fantastic lens on society right now. (Sesshoumaru’s speech about “don’t hold me to your hypocritical human morality” was epic af.)

And some of you are going to think the author is some kind of violence glorifying freak based only on that.

I feel like a lot of anti shippers and antis in general can’t get past that horrified feeling. They yell that they can’t enjoy the fandom if the material makes a hated pairing canon, so it’s like they don’t want anyone else to enjoy the fandom or the pairing. It’s very immature and scorched earth, and it hurts everyone.

Hey, guess what? I have written pairings with hella huge age gaps. Oh, the horror!

OptimusxMikaela? I headcanon Optimus as being 10 billion + years old, and Mikaela was 18 when they hooked up. Mikaela ages as the stories carry on through the years as my Danceverse series, so she’s in her 30s currently. They fucked and still fuck explicitly.

UnicronxStarscream? Unicron is as old as the universe, so 13 billion + (headcanon), and Starscream is probably 11 million or so (headcanon). They fuck explicitly.

Whouffaldi? The 12th Doctor is 2000+ and Clara is in her 20s. They fuck explicitly.

BeastGojixMiki? Godzilla has been alive for probably close to 65 years in the story, but he acts more like he’s in his 20s and he looks to be in his 20s when he turns back into a human. Miki is 18. They fuck in the story, but it’s written non explicitly.

Bowser JrxOC? Cherry is an oc who is 19. I aged Junior up in that story to be about 20. Their ages aren’t specified, but they’re mentioned to be adults. They fuck in the story, but it’s written non explicitly.

I have written fanfics with rape, abuse, murder, manslaughter, bdsm, stuff that’s morally messed up, etc, and I’m not a murdering rapist who eats children now, am I?

No, because I have no desire to do those things in the real world (because some are not possible...cuz I would date Optimus 😛) and I can distinguish fiction from reality. I can grasp the concept that fiction / art is not always endorsement.

Now get a grip on yourselves, put the pitchforks down and stop policing people’s imaginations.

#hypocrisy #purity culture #shipping wars #ship wars #fandom #anti antis #antis #swearing #pro shipping #tw csa #tw p e d o mention #IF I HAD A TARDIS I WOULD MESS UP SPACETIME SO BAD #if a MAP is getting help and stays away from kids then whatever #but if they parade around proud of it and see nothing wrong they better stay the f away from me or kids #if you are a p e d o harming real world children I will take your eyeballs out through your butthole