#nightmare flame´s art

[nightmareflame]

MEN❗❗❗❗❗ MEN KISSING❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

Some Terrible dad shipping I drew for my beloved @aimishix 💖 In return she feeds me with Silver x N hehehehehe

#terribledadshipping #PokémonGiovanni #PokemonGiovanni #Pokemon Giovanni #Giovanni #PokémonGhetsis #PokemonGhetsis #Pokemon Ghetsis #Ghetsis #Pokémon #Pokemon #ship #art #digital art #digitalart #Nightmare Flame´s art #Nightmare Flame's art

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do the Batfam with a Teen Former black Widow ( sorry English isn't my first language)

Sure can do! Such a cool idea.

Summary: (Y/N) is a former Black Widow.

Warnings: mentions of the training, killings, is this a character study?,

(Y/N) woke up with a gasp. Another nightmare. Another night of remembering people he has killed. And another night of listening to Dreykov and Madame B.

Another night of near breakage. (Y/N) sighed, removing the covers. He sat up and went to his cupboard to retrieve the cigarettes he stashed. Alfred and some other members were against him smoking, but he wasn't even chain smoker.

He only smoked when he was really stressed out. Or when he couldn't really sleep and was plagued with nightmares. It was still weird for (Y/N) to have a supposed normal life.

More so, with Batman and the Robins.

He took the pack and the lighter next to it and opened the window. He climbed out and sat down on the roof. It was a chilly autumn night and the chill of the air felt great against (Y/N)'s overheated skin.

He took a cigarette, putting it between his lips and lighting it. He used his left hand to guard the flame. Taking a drag, his eyes wondered over the darkness. He squinted at the dark, exhaling the smoke out.

He has killed Dreykov and he destroyed the Red Room. He got rid of the person who nearly broke him. He got rid of the symbol that he carried.

But it is still something that is heavy on him. The Black Widow symbol and the Black Widow moniker is something that he will carry to his grave.

He took a long drag, closing his eyes. (Y/N) still remembers the training. Ballet, acrobatics... Weapons and martial arts... (Y/N) exhaled, opening his eyes.

He was thankful that he killed Dreykov. He couldn't lie and he had to honest. It was... A bittersweet moment. He got his revenge, he got the revenge for the regiment and training he went through... But Dreykov never faced justice for what he did to all of them. And by justice, he meant going in front of a judge, jury and the executioner.

He always like the sound of it. Judge, jury and the executioner. That's what he turned into when he killed Dreykov. He judged him, he gave him the decision and he executed him.

Well that is irony.

(Y/N) chuckled quietly, letting the smoke out. It was fitting.

Dreykov's best soldier, one of the most feared assassins in Russia, the weapon that both Madam B and Dreykov had created. Although nearly broken, he persevered.

He survived.

Only 1 in 20 children survive the brutal regiment and (Y/N) rose out of those other 19 children.

He closed his eyes once more. He recently got into ballet. Ballet is something that was ingrained into him, something that is, well, was used to make them unbreakable. Repat, repeat and repeat.

But despite it all, his passion returned. Bruce was supportive of it and said that if it makes him feel better, he should go for it.

(Y/N) finished up the cigarette and climbed back into his room. He didn't expect to find Bruce, sitting on his bed.

" Hi. " (Y/N) said, making Bruce chuckle.

" I'm not going to say anything about your smoking. " Bruce said, making (Y/N) nod.

" I'm here to talk to you about... Well, I'm going to be blunt. I think you need to go to therapy. Before you say anything, " Bruce said, raising his hand, " I know. But she is loyal and she will take your conversations to the grave. " Bruce said.

" I know. But the Black Widow part of me died when you freed me from the brainwashing. Sure, I will carry the name and the symbol to the grave, but that part of me died. I burnt that part of me. " (Y/N) said, looking at Bruce before looking away.

" I appreciate the thought, but I burnt it. When I destroyed the Red Room I burnt the Black Widow part. " (Y/N) said more securely, looking Bruce directly in the eyes.

" Alright. If you ever change your mind, just let me know. " Bruce said.

(Y/N) nodded, but he knew he didn't need it. He had his family. Jason, Dick, Tim and Damian.

His brothers.

Even Alfred was there.

He knew that with their help, he will heal.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader

[denaliwrites]

f i c m a s t e r l i s t

p o l i c i e s (please read before making requests!)

b a d s a m a r i t a n The Best of You, Honey, Belongs to Me Blackthorn Cover Myself in the Ashes of You Dumb Ways To Die Enough of You to Dull the Pain (18+) Hellbent Looking For A Godsend Hit Me With Your Best Shot I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (18+) I'm Gooey in the Middle Baby Let Me Bake In His Eyes A Flaming Glow Intrigued and Afraid Keep You Like An Oath (18+) Killing Me Softly My Baby Shot Me Down (18+) Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy (18+) Only Touch That Gets Me Melting (18+) Run Rabbit Run (18+) Say My Name Send a Thousand Kings Away Shia Surprise Something Good to Celebrate Stop, Look and Listen, It's Halloween! Taste of a Poison Paradise Trust in Me, Just in Me With Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart Your Body's a Secret Girl and You're About to Spill It (18+)

t h e b o y s Watch That Butcher Burn

b r o a d c h u r c h Always Leave Me With a Hungry Heart Am I Doing This Right? An Art to Life's Distractions Beating Like A Kick Drum Catch & Release Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do It's Been a Long, Long Time Love's Perfect Ache Now and Again We Try to Just Stay Alive Regale You With A Gourd-geous Tale Say You'll Remember Me Say You'll Remember Me (Denali's Version) Tell Me It's A Nightmare

d o c t o r w h o Cuddle, Meet Puddle Cute Things Don't Blink (Part 1) Don't Turn Your Back (Part 2) Don't Look Away (Part 3) Dreams See Us Through (Part 4) Hate the Feeling of Falling Have a Holly Jolly Christmas Horrible Things Isn't That Wizard It's How I'm Made Let Me Come Home Little Creepy House On the Brave Shit The Origin of (Love Bug) Species What Beautiful Things I'll Wear When the Crypt Doors Creak You Know That I Would Jump Too

d u c k t a l e s Tales of Daring

g o o d o m e n s All I Want For Christmas Aziraphale's Favorite Author Dance on a Tightrope of Weird Free as My Hair His Love is All in Me How the Wine Plays Tricks on My Tongue Lockdown Blues Making Biscuits My Heart's a Stereo Naked in That Garden (18+) Out There Making DuckTales Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made Road to Hell Something Meaty For The Main Course Step Too Far Tongue Tied Your Love is Holy (18+)

f a l l o f t h e h o u s e o f u s h e r Tomorrow I Shall Be Fetterless (18+)

f r i g h t n i g h t Emptiness to Melody Everybody Scream in Our Town of Halloween Fixed Up to the Nines Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself (18+) I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin' Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (18+) Make Me Glow Night of Long Fangs (18+) Parade of Dancing Skeletons Talk So Pretty (18+) Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel? (18+)

h a u n t i n g o f b l y m a n o r ???

j u r a s s i c p a r k / w o r l d Best Behavior The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm

p r o d i g a l s o n But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps Never Fallen From Quite This High Office Supplies Rude Boy They are the Hunters, We are the Foxes Trigger Happy With a Sense of Poise (18+)

#denali writes #masterlist #broadchurch #doctor who #good omens #fright night #bad samaritan #prodigal son #reader insert #fanfic #alec hardy x reader #tenth doctor x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #peter vincent x reader #cale erendreich x reader #martin whitly x reader #michael sheen #david tennant

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Older Favourites: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have a recurring theme to cap out the first month of the new year- Older Favourites! Check under the cut for 11 fics that are over a year old, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (40676, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A sweet collage AU one-shot where they are both a bit vulnerable and the m9 is its usual chaotic self.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Hold Me Close (But Not Too Sweet) by AnaliseGrey (5312, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Dom Caleb gets Essek out of his head with ear clamps and oral sex.

Reccer says: I liked it!

multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance by mousecookie (10003, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb end up on the opposite side of Resonant Echo in a dangerous place.

Reccer says: Fascinating concept and interestingly written

only code it knows is rote survival by Chrome (12637, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In a world where Trent makes it back to Eiselcross before the Nein do, Essek spends a night under the effects of the Feeblemind spell. Caleb undertakes a duty of care, and the Nein learn how Essek feels about them beneath everything.

Reccer says: Always love Feeblemind!Essek and this one is lovely in all the care the rest of the group gives

(perhaps i may) elaborate by demonstration by marsastronomica (10057, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Aeor flirting, flirting, flirting, and smut. Funny but loving.

Reccer says: This is one of my favs of all time. The characterization is great. A rare confident Essek. Tons of great lines too and the Nein are perfect.

we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome (17169, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

after a final battle with the Tombtakers, Five times Essek woke up with level(s) of exhaustion and one time he didn't.

Reccer says: It's so tender! An interesting take on a possible end to the arc and a wonderful demonstration for (the consequences of) Essek's power

Lay Your Bones by ladyorpheus (53587, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The M9 rescue Essek, meet his brother, and muse on family.

Reccer says: One of the very first fics I read in this fandom and it's always stuck with me. A real ensemble M9 piece with shadowgast at its heart.

Like darkness to a dying flame by Sangreal (, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb Widogast, arcanist in the service of His Excellency, Prime Magister Ludinus Da’leth, and antiquarian at large, travels to the ancient city of Ghor Dranas in search of a powerful drowic vestige that he believes can help him turn back time. He finds his vestige... and something more.

Reccer says: So. This fic. It is a fever dream, a fantasy-warped nightmare. Art in text. Heavy like lead in your mouth. Fucked up and absolutely gorgeously written. I think about it like once a week still. (Eldritch horror-Essek and Caleb succumbing to obsession and tentacles.)

shrimp vision by nevenne (5662, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Humans can’t see in the dark. They see well in sunlight, however, and their eyes are exceptional for distinguishing color and depth. Drow can see at night, but more importantly, they can see in complete darkness as their eyes have accustomed to tracking the invisible heat radiating off objects and living flesh. There is a series of unfortunate complications to co-existing with a human arising from these facts.

Reccer says: It's funny and hot and there's some great drow biology in it!

Troublemaker by SaltCore (1309, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Kittens, while precious, do tend to cause problems on purpose. Good thing Essek is already smitten.

Reccer says: Amazingly sweet domestic fluff

learning all the old things by hanap (1353, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek cooks a meal for Caleb and himself.

Reccer says: It's super sweet and domestic

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with non-penetrative sex!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #aeor is for lovers #cr fic #cr fics #critical role fan fiction

[seospicybin]

FELIX

MY WORKS ARE NSFW & 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

These are purely works of fictions. There is now way it represent Stray Kids in any way.

* S for smut. F for fluff. A for Angst.

Hide & seek. (s,f) Hide and seek with Felix but with a sexy twist.

Exhale. (s, f) Felix wanted to try something on you yet he hesitated asking you for it.

Freeze. (mild smut) Your boyfriend Felix just knows how to beat the summer heat.

Constellations. (s,f) Felix never thought about dating someone, he didn’t even dare to dream of being in love with someone but all that changed when he met the undeniably attractive you.

505. (s) Felix didn’t know you’re back after gone for months, the girl who was once a friend with benefits with him.

Twin Flame. (s,f,a)  Part I / Part II / Part III Back home for a summer holiday, you meet the new next-door boy, Felix, who will turn your summer into a burning bright one.

Eternal Flame. (s,f,a) A spin-off of Twin Flame. Haunted by the nightmare that was you leaving him again, Felix determined to only make the right decisions but it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

Distilled. (s,f, a bit angst) You kept meeting Felix in the bar, a model you worked with. And what started as habitual drinking nights together turned into something more.

Happy Pills. (s,f a bit angst)  Part I / Part II For the most talented dancer slash the most popular boy in art school, Felix could date anyone at his choosing but he chooses you instead, even though the whole school knows you’re a ticking bomb that could go off any time.

Godspeed. (s,f,a) You’ve been dating Felix for seven years, seven wonderful years until one day, a once in a lifetime opportunity comes falling onto your lap and put your relationship to a test.

Bloom. (s,f) Valentine’s day is just another day for you until a stranger gives you a flower and makes it special for you.

One Of A Kind. (s,f,a) A part of One Series. When you live in a small town there’s nothing more exciting than meet a new man in town, Felix. It’s getting more peculiarly nostalgic as if you feel like you’ve known him for years.

On Tour. (s,f,a) Hyunjin x reader x Felix I. SOUNDCHECK / II. OPENING ACT / III. UNPLUGGED / IV. HIDDEN TRACK / FINAL. ENCORE. Your best friend, Felix, is in a rock band and he takes you to join him on tour as the band’s photographer. On the road, you learn how to deal with his bandmate, Hyunjin, who’s not very welcoming of you. 

Too Hot To Handle. (s) You and Felix become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle.

0325. (s,f) skz x reader. SIDE B A series of short fics inspired by Stray Kids songs.

#seospicy masterlist #felix masterlist

[aralezinspace]

Masquerade

Combining two requests, both from Anonymous: Morpheus and s/o doing each other's makeup, Morpheus and reader kissing, reader teases him until he's at their mercy

A/N: The inherent eroticism of a masquerade *chef's kiss* partly inspired by All Yours by @roguelov (I love your writing so much!) Enjoy! Tagging @fangirlmary - If you want to be tagged in any of my writing let me know!

~~Requests are open!~~

“Morpheus?” I called from my bathroom, “Are you almost ready for me?” I knew time passed differently in the Dreaming, I still couldn’t help worrying we were going to be late. The Faerie realm was hosting a huge masquerade ball in honor of Cluracan’s birthday, and as rulers of the Dreaming we had both been invited. I had never been to a faerie masquerade, so I was more than a little nervous- even newly immortal, I was still only human, about to be surrounded by beings with more power in their pinkies than I had in my entire body.

I heard Dream’s footsteps pad from our bedroom into the bathroom before I saw his reflection in the mirror. I applied the last touch to my lipstick before turning to get the full effect, and my heart stopped in my chest.

He was dressed in his usual black, but the material seemed to be deeper, darker, a void where even the brightest of stars diminished. Within that void there swirled sparkling lines of blues, greens, purples, and reds, dotted with large silvery sparkles I’d bet were diamonds sewn into the fabric. The shirt and pants seemed painted onto his form they fit him so well, moving with him, not even creasing when he walked or moved his arms. The shirt’s collar covered his neck, and his hands were wrapped in black silk gloves.

The cloak he wore when being Dream of the Endless, Ruler of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms was attached to his shoulders with silver brooches, each cradling a sapphire the size of a walnut. A silver chain connected the two pieces, swaying gently when he moved. Flames still flickered at the bottom, but this cloak was made of the same living void as his shirt and pants. His hair was only slightly more tamed than usual, which only added to the affect. Black pointed boots with slight heels and soft soles were on his feet.

I needed to stop gaping, before a dream spider crawled into my mouth.

“Holy shit,” I gasped, taking it all in again and again, the words hardly doing my sentiments any justice. He was ancient and beautiful, distant and awe-inspiring. “You look incredible.” He smiled gently at me, and I could have sworn his chest puffed out just a little bit as he approached me.

“As do you, my star,” he replied in a murmur. His eyes roved up and down my body, taking it all in as one would a piece of art. I could feel the slight tremor in his hand as he brushed a stray piece of hair away from my face. “Although there are no words in any language to do justice to your beauty.”

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks and bashfully glanced at the floor. “Flatterer,” I teased, but did a little twirl anyway before going back to the mirror.

He was right though, I looked just as otherworldly as him in the clothes he fashioned me. If he was attending as a galaxy, then I was the star at the very center. The whole ensemble was silver-blue and shimmering, made of countless layers of a light, floaty material that swirled around me like mist when I moved. The gown had a sweetheart neckline, and sleeves of fine silver mesh covered my arms, making them appear longer and more graceful. Moonstones and diamonds dotted the dress and sleeves, catching the light and reflecting it back. Small diamond earrings went in my ears, and a strand of silver and moonstone was around my neck, with a large opal pendant hanging just below my collarbones.

I had a cape of my own, made of the same shimmering material and dotted with flecks of gold, flowing out behind me from my shoulders. My makeup had the same slight rainbow and silver shimmer, my eyes outlined in pale blue liner. I looked every inch a monarch.

“Just have to do your eyeliner,” I said as I gestured for Morpheus to sit on the stool in front of my vanity. He swept across the bathroom and sat on the stool as if it were a throne while I gathered my liquid and pencil eyeliners, along with a few shades of eyeshadow. “Close your eyes and hold still?”

Morpheus smiled and did as I asked. His lashes were long and dark and utterly gorgeous against his pale cheeks. He was holding still as he could for me, which was the equivalent of a marble statue. Leaning over him, I carefully lined his upper lash lines in black ink before buffing it out with a brush. “Open and look up?”

Tongue between my teeth as I concentrated, I did his lower lash line as well. The black liner made the blue of his eyes even more startling, and I just knew that his eyes would appear even more like bottomless pits if they shifted to their usual black and silver over the course of the night.

“Okay, look ahead?” Rather than look straight ahead, Dream decided to look up at me, stopping the breath in my lungs with his gaze. With slightly clumsy fingers, I put the eyeliner back in my makeup drawer and grabbed the two eye shadows I had picked for him: a slightly sparkling red, and a shimmering silver. Using my fingertip, I gently pressed some of the red into the outer corners of his eyes, and some of the silver into the inner corners.

If I thought he looked incredibly beautiful and powerful before, I was wrong. Just adding the eyeliner and colors around his eyes had made him arrestingly gorgeous, and I couldn’t look away. My eyes widened at the being before me, heat flooding my entire body. That hint of red and silver was the most beautiful mistake I had ever made. It added more than a hint of mischief to the blue of his eyes, gave the power of dreams the attitude of the devil.

Oh, I was going to have a very hard time keeping my hands off him for however long we stayed at this party.

~~

The fae had truly gone all out for Cluracan’s celebration in a dazzling display of magic, wealth, and the otherworldly beauty of nature. The giant ballroom hummed with life, my skin tingled from the strength of the collective vibes. Even as my eyes absorbed the vibrant colors and wondered at them until they burned, I felt distinctly out of place. Just a tiny human at the side of an Endless, almost like a pet. I wanted to shrink into a gilt corner and hope that none of these beings paid me any mind. But, I was a monarch of the Dreaming. If Morpheus couldn’t hide in a corner, neither could I.

I could tell from his slightly tense grip on my hand that he’d rather be anywhere else. Even with our masks covering the top halves of our faces, it was easy to see how much he detested being here. There were too many people, and wearing the face of a monarch for all of them was taxing. I gently rubbed circles into the back of his hand with my thumb as we waited in line to pay our respects to the king and queen, taking in the sights and sounds and smells.

A beautifully haunting waltz came from the musicians on the modest stage at the back of the room. Fae and gods and other creatures of myth mingled and danced, their movements flickering like mirages. A shiver went down my spine.

The fae herald announced us to the waiting monarchs, and Cluracan sitting beside them: “Dream of the Endless and Lady Y/N, monarchs of the Dreaming, rulers of the Nightmare Realms.” I plastered a smile on my face as we approached the thrones. Morpheus gave a slight, respectful bow, and I dipped my knees in a little curtsy.

“Lord Morpheus!” Cluracan yelled with a beaming grin, extending his hand for Dream to shake. “I am so pleased you were able to attend! Both you and your beautiful wife.” Morpheus shook his hand with a strained smile. “Thank you for the invitation, we are honored to be here.”

Cluracan then extended his hand to me. I did what was expected of me, and placed my fingers in his waiting grasp. “Your visage this night is a true blessing,” he murmured against the skin before brushing his lips over my knuckles with a flirtatious smirk. I could feel Morpheus tense beside me.

Dream exchanged the necessary pleasantries with the king and queen, something I was content to let him handle. After the fae monarchs wished us well with the encouragement to enjoy their hospitality for as long as we wished, we were finally free from royal obligations to enjoy the party.

Morpheus was a wallflower at social engagements on the best of days, but I could tell that being in a ballroom surrounded by fae and magical creatures of every kind made him especially uneasy. His hand never left my lower back as we mingled with the other guests, sipping on sweet wine to take the edge off.

After we took our leave of some forest spirits, the orchestra struck up a tune I recognized as old Dreaming folk music. I gave Morpheus’ hand a squeeze and whispered excitedly in his ear, “I’ll bet you anything Cluracan asked them to play this for us. It’d be rude not to dance.” I gave him my best sparkling puppy dog eyes. “Please? May I have this dance?”

Dream sighed, but agreed with a small, loving smile. The image of a perfectly refined and dignified ruler, he led me to the dance floor, holding my one hand aloft while the other rested at my waist. We swept around the dance floor in time with the music, our garments flowing out behind and around us- a supernova and a black hole, swirling around each other in perfect harmony.

“They’re all staring,” I breathed, my eyes darting quickly to the assembled crowd.

“They cannot help but be entranced by you, my darling,” he purred back, “And neither can I.” My eyes flickered up to his, my heart stopping in my chest and lips tugging up into a smirk when I caught the expression on his face. There was no way he hadn’t noticed the hitch in my breath, or the flush in my cheeks, and his tiny smile became unbearably smug. Oh, so that’s how he wanted to entertain himself tonight. Well then, two could play at that game.

“They’re staring at you too, you know,” I breathed against his lips just before he twirled me out and then back in to his waiting arms. “You’re easily the most powerful being here, I bet they’re trying to decide whether they want to be your ally, or stab you in the back. Not that I’d let them.” The hand that was resting on his shoulder slid up, up, so that I was caressing his neck. “And I bet the women are just burning inside, aroused by your demeanor and aggravated their husbands could never hope to measure up.”

It was soft, but I could hear the growl that rumbled low in Dream’s chest. I could feel the way his fingers tensed into the flesh at my waist. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly- he now knew I had caught on to his game, and was not only willing to play, but playing to win.

When the song was over, I pulled away to bow to him, low and slow and graceful with a smile that was anything but submissive. Dream returned the gesture, a perfect gentleman, one who knew exactly what effect he was having on his partner. Rather than take his hand to leave the dance floor, I turned away from him, throwing a flirtatious smirk over my shoulder as I walked towards the buffet. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as he watched, intending to follow, but stopped by a fae lord wishing to speak with him.

I could sense Dream’s growing tension as the night wore on and I refused to stay by his side, rather flitting just out of reach. I made small talk with the other guests, even exchanged a few more words with Cluracan- that really got him going. It was only a matter of time before he came to sweep me away. I intended to beat him to it.

It was hard to evade the stare of an Endless, but I managed well enough. Just enough to catch Dream’s eye before leaving the ballroom and disappearing around a corner into a quieter hall. I could hear his footsteps following me, letting him catch the occasional glimpse of my skirt fluttering around a corner. Almost there…

I turned the next corner and hid in the darkened space between two stone columns encircled with vines. My heart pounded as Dream drew closer. When he was about to pass my hiding place, I reached out and snatched his arm, pulling him into the shadows with me and pressing him against the wall. The air left his lungs on impact in a breathy moan. I stepped in closer, pressing my nose into the hollow just below his ear and taking a deep breath. I was already warm and fuzzy from the wine and fae magic in the air; breathing Morpheus in only made it more so.

With a soft hum, I gently pressed my lips to his, moving them slowly, carefully, testing just how far I could push him. I teasingly ran my tongue over the seam of his sweet lips, and he immediately parted them for me. I flitted in for the slightest taste, the sweetness of the wine still lingering in the corners of his mouth. I pulled away the moment he tried to deepen the kiss, letting him lick beggingly at my closed lips.

One hand cradled his chin while the other slipped under the edge of his mask, mussing his hair slightly as I lifted it over his head and let it fall to the floor. He gasped against my lips and his breath immediately hitched, like he had been caught in the act of showing just how much I was affecting him.

His hands found their way to my hips, fingers digging in to soft fabric as he tugged me closer. My fingers threaded into his silky hair, gently caressing for a few moments before tightening around the strands and giving a gentle yank to expose his neck. Another gasp left him, his eyes fluttering.

I attached my lips to his jawline, kissing and nipping, just hard enough to sting. His fingers bit into my hips, holding me closer. I chuckled low in his ear, more than a little proud of how little it had taken to tease him into a gasping, trembling mess. “I think we’ve stayed long enough,” I cooed, “Unless you’d rather have another dance, or talk with Cluracan some more…”

Dream’s eyes flashed open, no longer ice blue, but deep black, and somehow still burning and sparkling. I had been right before: the eyeliner and colors at the corners of his eyes made me want to sink into those bottomless pits that looked as though they wanted to devour me whole. A breath shuddered out of my lungs and heat flooded my body. Dream smirked, smug and feral.

A hand left my waist to rip off my mask and cast it aside. Dream’s eyes raked over my face, eyes burning with desire. “My little star…” his low growl rumbled through me like thunder. “You are making it incredibly difficult to keep my composure.”

I slowly licked my lips, smooth and sultry. Dream’s eyes tracked every movement of my tongue. I stepped in even closer: “Then let it go.”

When I felt the vortex of sand carry us back to the Dreaming, I knew I had won this round, and also that Dream was more than alright with losing.

#The Sandman #The Sandman fanfic #Morpheus x reader #Dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus fanfic

[artbychromo]

so... ace-sabo roleswap AU? (I saw one too many ASL drawings of luffy & sabo laughing tearfully while a transparent ace smiles in ghostly benevolence. now I'm side-eyeing myself like, "...you good?")

au where ace goes missing when asl are kids (after picking a fight he shouldn't have) and is presumed dead... sabo doubles down on watching over luffy and sees him through to the day they both leave

I didn't really firm up anything about the AU, except I think it'd be interesting to see how the brothers' themes would change... like

maybe Sabo's story would explore freedom vs. isolation--all the years that sabo was looking after luffy on Goa and desperately avoiding capture by his parents, he was itching to run away... as much as he loves luffy, sometimes being on the same island as his parents made him feel like he couldn't breathe

his time with the RA gives him a taste of what real freedom is like. a part of him is still trying to reconcile his love for his brothers with how it burdened him at times; after all, threats against them were part of the reason he was captured when he was younger

the climactic moment at marineford;;; would be him finally seeing how it's all connected--how his dream and luffy's and ace's all fed into each other, how the love between them gave him the strength and passion to get up every day. akainu's taunting sabo that weakness and sentiment is all the revolutionaries/pirates know, and compared to the order and stability of the govt, no single one of them will ever stand a chance--"you're like a tiny drop of water against the flames of justice" as he goes after luffy

then sabo can loosely reference one of my favorite cloud atlas lines with "what's an ocean, but a multitude of drops?" as he saves luffy, knowing that this small act of love will billow out a millionfold and he finally feels both free and connected

i guess?????? i don't know

and then

ace's story would still focus on self-worth & love, but give way more emphasis to the idea of unconditional, inherent worth

in the fight that left him separated from L & S, he was trying to sacrifice himself protect them by rushing their attacker and throwing them both over a cliff into a stormy ocean. it knocks him around and nearly drowns him--he clings to a log to float but still winds up passing out from a blow to his head

after drifting ace is found... by the whitebeards? somehow? but when he wakes up, he doesn't remember much about himself. only a feeling like someone out there needs him to protect them, he just doesn't know who

the only thing he can really do about it is beg the WBs to help him get stronger... whitebeard's heart goes out to this kid, who apparently made his entire identity about his family

he tries to subtly teach ace the idea that he doesn't have to be needed by someone to deserve to live/be a part of their family, but it never quite gets through to ace, who's got some sort of allergy to acknowledging his own self-worth (it's really bc he has nightmares about all the terrible things he heard as roger's son)

and then... 8 years have gone by, and ace is looking at a familiar face in a newspaper. he's devastated as he remembers--he knows who needed him now, his family, and he's already failed them

he still feels the need to go find luffy, though, and with WB's blessing he tracks down the strawhats... sick to his stomach the whole time, wondering how luffy will react to such a worthless older brother

[insert the art at the top of the post :) ]

luffy's immediate, unwavering joy at seeing him and learning he's safe makes it all finally click for ace--that he's loved no matter what. or, to quote another fav story, "I'm loved now, but when I wasn't, it didn't mean I wasn't worthy of it."

UH anyway this is sappy and longer than planned. sending this out into the world acting like i don't care about it when in fact, now that i spent this much time on it, i care very much

#portgas d ace #monkey d luffy #one piece #not tagging sabo since this is a lil sad for him #uhhh #headcanons #?

[bylersecretsanta2023]

from @willelworld, to @marshmallo824

Will is mad.

He’s been sitting on his bed fuming for the past two hours, stirring in a thick cloud of frustration while staring down at his final project for ART235. There’s one of Jonathan’s mixtapes— he made it for Will as a graduation present, congrats on surviving high school. literally!— buzzing from his Walkman headphones, acting as white noise to wade through the jumbled thoughts straggling around his mind.

He’s burning up in a newfound rage at the fact that he just can’t figure out what’s wrong with this piece lying in his lap. The class is one of his art electives— The Beauty of Still Life — and despite being only a 200 level elective course, it’s been pulling Will through the wringer all semester long. After two graphite drawings, three chalk pastels, a 3D clay model, and his very first venture into oil painting, Will is decidedly not seeing the beauty in it. He is, however, seeing red, because the final project is due tomorrow morning, and it’s already ten at night, and the charcoal coating his fingers and therefore streaking across his bed sheets is enough to have him in tears. Will holds them back, and continues to stare blankly, like the flowers and grapes and vase will actually come to life and clue him in on what he’s been getting wrong, what feels so off about the piece as a whole.

It’s the last night of Hanukkah, and Will has spent the better half of it rolling around his bed, sighing every few minutes as he makes another mark with a stick of charcoal, smudging it with a finger, then realizing it wasn’t looking any better. The kneaded eraser feels sweaty in his palm as he continues playing with it like a stress toy.

He and Mike had lit the final set of candles of their chanukiah hours ago, the flames leaving dripping wax in their wake as Will sat and watched. It was his first time celebrating away from home, from his family, which felt different, but he’s lucky to at least have Mike around to get a sense of home. Another thing he’s mad about - finals week taking up the time where he could be home with his mom, Jonathan, El and Hop, but instead he’s been swamped with hours upon hours of tedious papers, crammed studying, and finishing this stupidly frustrating still life.

In all, his first semester of college was nice, if not a bit hectic. Living with Mike had been both a dream and a nightmare, which he fully expected when signing himself up for living with the guy you’re in gay love with. And now, he’s only twelve hours away from the end, the finish line in sight, the last sprint before he’s back in Hawkins for a month of rest and recuperation. But this drawing is all wrong, and he’s ready to resign himself to a B+ in this class by handing in the world’s shittiest charcoal still life at 10 AM sharp. After that, the two of them will shove their suitcases and duffle bags of necessities into Mike’s trunk, and drive the hours-long ride home for winter break.

Will’s stomach growls embarrassingly loud, enough so that he hears it over both the headphones and music. As if on cue, the door handle jangles around and Mike waltzes through, kicking it shut behind him. He’s carrying a white porcelain plate with a couple of latkes, reheated from a few nights ago. Earlier in the week, Mike had somehow found the time amidst his plethora of essays to conjure up freshly made latkes in their dinky little communal dorm kitchen. Will isn’t sure how he did it, considering the sheer lack of kitchen utensils, and the rusted stove that clearly hasn’t been updated since the 50’s, a fire hazard waiting to happen. But nonetheless, when Mike had walked back upstairs carrying a platter filled with that beautiful fried potato, Will just about cried at the sentiment.

Mike joins him on his bed without asking, knowing full well that he’s allowed, and Will’s stomach growls again for good measure, like an alarm blaring out his jealousy over Mike finishing the last of the batch. Will hooks his single clean finger around the headphones and tugs them off.

Wordlessly, Mike hands him the plate. “For you,” he says, voice airy and dripping with fondness. Will could kiss him on the spot. He smiles, then looks down at his fingertips covered in chalky black, and then looks back to Mike sheepishly.

“Open. I’ll feed you,” Mike commands, and Will coughs out a laugh in surprise. He gives him a funny look, expecting Will to carry out their normal routine: Will refuses the help, then Mike pushes him on it, and Will caves immediately.

Will could argue on this, and he considers it, but he’s starving, and it feels ridiculous at this point to decline Mike’s care. They’ve fought monsters together and protected each other in literal battles. Mike hand feeding him latkes isn’t gonna kill him. Maybe.

“I feel like a baby right now,” Will admits, opening his mouth regardless of the comment as Mike breaks off a small piece for him to eat, then takes a bite for himself. They were much better fresh, but Will can’t complain. Mike pushes another piece against Will’s mouth before he’s done chewing the first, laughing, warm and light, at the unimpressed glare he receives.

And this is where Will’s biggest problem lies. This is the root of his current predicament with the still life. See, while he should’ve been spending the past three weeks getting a head start on his final project, he instead chose to work on something that’s, in his opinion, much more important, if not stupidly reckless. Will had put all of his free time towards a painting for Mike. A new one, a callback to the last grand piece he dedicated to him, in the backseat of that musty, sweltering pizza van flying through the Nevada desert.

He’s being stupid, Will realizes. He understands that, fully. He’s spent months overanalyzing every interaction with Mike since graduation. He spent the entirety of late October contemplating if he should go through with it, with making him another painting. This time, with a proper, honest confession attached. Not the piss-poor excuse of whatever he gave last time, hiding behind El, making a fool of himself with his trembling, lying words.

This time, he actually does have a little confidence. Mike has always been kind with him, always caring and gentle, but never in an insulting or belittling manner. But ever since they moved in together, it’s like the final walls separating the two of them fell, and Mike’s been all over him. He’s always complimenting Will, more than normal, peppering him with little innocuous comments on how nice he looks today or how well he’s doing in his classes or how good he’s been at making new friends. On top of that, Mike’s dialed up his touchiness to an entirely unheard level. He’s gotten more hugs from Mike in the past three months than in the entirety of high school. And the worst (best) part, is the ‘flirting.’ Will is hesitant to call it that, not wanting to get his hopes up, but he just doesn’t know another word to use that sums up all the little moments in their conversations that feel too playful, too endearing, and altogether too sweet.

It’s like Mike had some grand revelation on move-in day back in August, that this was for real. That Will wasn’t going anywhere. That they survived all the bullshit of their childhood, and they still have each other, and nothing could change that other than their own choices, not some ever-looming threat of death.

Whatever it is, Will is grateful, but he also wasted so much energy on dissecting every change in Mike’s behavior, every normal action amplified by an indescribable air of openness, trust, and, dare he say it, love. Will is feeling loved, every single day, and it unsettles him greatly. Not that he doesn’t feel loved by his family and friends at home, of course not. But this is a different kind of love. He feels wanted.

Which is why, despite their 13 years of platonic history, and despite his better judgment, he’s decided to take the plunge. Risk it all, so to speak. Gamble their friendship. Put his heart on the line and pray that Mike picks it back up, gingerly in his hands. That he returns it to Will’s chest in-tact and, against all odds, returns his feelings, too. If it all blows up in his face, Will’s betting on their school’s resident housing office to help him switch to a new dorm before the start of the Spring semester.

He’s chewing on another piece of the latke, deep in thought about this sticky situation, when Mike oh so helpfully points out his other, more pressing plight.

“How’s the still life going?” he asks, staring down at the almost completed drawing in Will’s lap. “It looks really nice.”

Will groans at this. “You say that about all my work. It’s starting to mean less and less everyday, you know.”

Mike scoffs playfully, not really hurt, but wanting to keep this conversation fun and spirited. “You’re saying my expert opinion doesn’t matter?”

“Expert in what, exactly?” Will welcomes the needed distraction from his work, and he wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he really does love to hear Mike comment on his art. Mike was his first critic, his first muse, and his biggest fan when it comes to his artwork.

“I’m the world’s leading expert in Will Byers art history. After you die they’re gonna be begging me to sell your old paintings, but I won’t budge.”

“After I die?” Will asks, eyes bulging as he laughs out the words. “Are you gonna open a museum in my honor, or something?”

Mike rolls his head to the side where it’s resting against the wall, linking their eyes. “Oh, definitely. There’ll be a whole wing just for D&D. I’ll sell Will the Wise merch in the gift shop for a profit.”

Will laughs again at the imagery Mike created for him, and shakes his head, his smile wide and on display. Mike tears his gaze away from Will’s eyes and for a moment, it moves to somewhere lower, a dangerous spot just below his nose and right above his chin. And then he’s looking down at the charcoal drawing again.

“Why are you still working on it, though? This looks incredible. Really. Like, really, really professional,” and Will can tell Mike’s having trouble finding the right words to describe the drawing, because it’s unlike any of the art Will actually enjoys creating. It’s black and white for starters, and there’s no people, just inanimate objects.

Will looks back up to Mike’s face, and he’s clearly concentrating hard. He appreciates the concern Mike gives him, the effort he puts into things even when he’s not quite sure how. “Not enough magic for your taste?”

This brings a closed-mouth grin to Mike’s lips, but he still hasn’t broken his gaze from the drawing. “Could use a dragon or two, I suppose.”

He’s suddenly all too aware of the painting currently hiding underneath his bed, right below the two of them. It’s different from the one he made in ‘86. Rather than the Party fighting a three-headed dragon, it’s simply a full-body portrait of Sir Mike. Will’s improved significantly in the past three and a half years, constantly honing his skills with acrylic paint through high school and now early college. He thinks he got the metallic reflect on Mike’s paladin armor just right, and he made sure to include the big old heart on his shield, again. Just to hammer home the point even more.

“But like, for real. From an objective standpoint, can you see anything— I don’t know— weird about it?” Will probes for more feedback. He should’ve paid more attention in the critique for his last project.

Mike goes quiet this time, zoning in on it. Will watches as his eyes glide back and forth, picking up on all the details. The lines and streaks of the charcoal stick lie across the finely textured paper. The hours of smudging and blending that Will endured, chasing perfection. The negative space he left behind for the highlighted points. The shadows cast by each object— a bowl of grapes surrounded by ornate candlesticks and a vase with a single lily flower— making them look like they’re bouncing off the paper and taking up real space. All the elements are present, but yet, something isn’t quite right.

“It’s the perspective, isn’t it?” Will interrupts the peaceful silence, breaking Mike’s concentration with his anxious rambling. “That’s definitely it. But it’s too late- I don’t think I can really fix it at this point- and I don’t have time to start all over, I mean I’ve been working on this nonstop for a week and a half and I don’t know why I keep fucking it up and—“

“Will,” Mike cuts him short with a hand pressed to his forearm, almost clutching at him. “There’s nothing wrong with the perspective. This looks crazy realistic, like I could reach in and touch everything for myself, you know? But it still has that sense of, like, your style. It feels purposeful, I guess, with how you can see the lines if you look up close. It feels human, even though there’s no people included.”

Will stares at him in a profound shock, like he didn’t expect Mike to go so deep with his analysis. He blinks a few times, a blush sprouting on his cheeks. “Thank you- that’s, that’s so. I’m so— thank you.” He settles on a simple form of gratitude, not wishing to trip over his words any longer.

“It’s perfect,” Mike tacks on, finally looking back upwards to take in Will’s expression. Will forgot how forward Mike is with his compliments for his art, as it’s been a good long while since he’s properly gifted him anything. Will feels a mix of excitement and dread at how Mike will react to his present-slash-confession. He’s planning on showing him the painting on the night the Party officially holds their holiday festivities, once everyone’s returned from their respective schools. He figures it’s a nice enough opportunity to give him the painting, and also relieves Will of the panic around finding Mike a suitable Christmas gift.

And Will thinks it’s over. He thinks his heart is finally safe to crawl back down his throat and settle into his ribcage once more. But Mike has other plans.

“You’re perfect,” Mike says in a whisper, but his eyes are still locked tight in an unbreaking connection with Will’s. He means it wholeheartedly, and Will sees something glimmer in his eyes at that moment. He’s made a choice.

Before Will can even process Mike’s words or begin to formulate a coherent response, Mike’s face is suddenly in front of him and it’s all he can see. It’s all he knows. Mike Mike Mike. Screw The Beauty of Still Life, Wil decides he’s never going to make another piece of art that isn’t focused around the boy in front of him.

Will’s not really sure what he expected would happen within the next few seconds, as all his brain power is going towards deciphering the logistics of proposing his new major that entirely surrounds painting this beautiful boy he lives with, but then there’s a pressure on his mouth, and he’s thrown out of his daze.

What the fuck. Mike’s kissing me. And it’s an electric shock to his nervous system, and it’s like his body’s being woken up by a bucket of frozen water as he’s flung into the present moment. His brain catches up, and before he starts kissing back or doing really anything at all, Mike’s pulling away. His eyes are searching his face, back and forth, in this confused and hopeful and pained fashion, brows pinching in the center.

Instead of saying anything useful, Will blurts out, “Oh my god, you ruined the surprise.” He’s thinking about how many hours of tossing and turning in his bed, pondering what words to use when he inevitably reveals the true depth of his feelings. All the worries and fears he’s harbored, all the insecurities, they’re playing on a loop in his mind, like how they say your life flashes before your eyes right as you die. He’d gladly let Mike kill all his fears.

“What?” Mike utters, quiet and hurt, his very own fears springing up as his brain zeros in on the word ‘ruined’ and nothing else. Will wants to punch himself in the face.

“Shit, sorry, I meant. I meant that, I was planning on doing that, too. As a Christmas present,” Will states, dumbly. He’s still a bit disoriented.

“You were planning on kissing me as a present?” Mike giggles, his eyes turning to crescents. “I mean, I’m not complaining. But you could do that any day of the year, if you want.”

“No, that’s— I was trying to say that… that I’ve spent the past few weeks writing up this- this whole confession to you in my head. And I wanted to wait until we were back in Hawkins and not, like, sleeping in the same room. In case things got awkward,” Will explains, still sounding sort of silly. He’s never felt simultaneously so embarrassed yet so overjoyed.

Mike’s laughing a little, eyes dazzling. But now he’s sobering up, listening to Will intently.

“And, I- um. I kinda— I made you a painting.”

Mike brightens at this, his smile widening even more, somehow. “Like the one when we were fifteen?” He asks, teasing, with a tilt of his head.

Will sighs, embarrassment trickling in yet again. “Yeah. Like the one when we were fifteen. But much better quality, and more kissing involved, preferably.”

It’s like Mike was waiting to hear the word ‘kiss’ again for the green light to lean back in. He puts a hand on the back of Will’s neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. Will rests his own on the side of Mike’s face, cautiously, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to do this. They meet in the middle, and this time, it’s not as much of a jolt, as an overwhelming feeling of warmth. It’s like pouring warm water over your hair and down your neck— shuddering, but in a good way.

When they break apart again, Will realizes he never wiped the charcoal off his hands, and there’s a collection of smeared black fingerprints on Mike’s cheek. He can’t contain his laugh at the sight, bubbling up out of him. He feels on fire. He feels hysterical.

“Can I see the painting, now that I’ve ruined your surprise?” Mike asks, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Will considers it, and then shakes his head. “Nah, you’re gonna have to wait for the full thing. Including the confession. It’s only fair.”

Mike wilts at this, grabbing Will’s neck again from where his hand has been resting on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can spend the next ten days pretending like there’s nothing between us,” he says in a hushed tone. He’s being dramatic, Will notices, and it’s in that faint teasing tone that Mike always does when he tries to get his way.

“I mean, you don’t have to do that,” Will offers.

Mike spends a total of five seconds considering this, before he outright asks: “So, you’ll be my boyfriend now?”

Will barks out another laugh at the way he phrased it. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep up with Mike’s impulsivity. He’s spent the last couple of years wanting to make a move, and then the past months building up to actually doing it. But here Mike is, beating him to it in a seemingly split-second decision.

“Yes, of course. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend,” Will answers him, beaming at the prospect. He can’t believe his luck. He can’t believe Mike’s timing.

“Okay… so, can I see the painting now?”

Will rolls his eyes without a hint of malice, shoving Mike in the shoulder. “Did you really think that would work?”

Mike leans into Will’s space once more, bouncing back to him like a rubber band. He’s never seen the other boy happier. “Worth a shot.”

A couple weeks later, when Will receives his final grades, the “B+” next to ART235 is enough for him.

It’s perfect, even.

#byler secret santa #mia on the mic #st #stranger things #byler #byler fanfic

[fangirlshrewt97]

Intertwined Till the End

Ok, so to preface, this is not part of the TAOAT verse, it just happens to be Jairava. That said, this is 100% @burningsheepcrown ‘s fault, so feel free to direct all blame at her. Because she not only drew the angst, she then prodded me about it. 

Also, I typed this out on my phone in like 20 minutes, and have not edited it, so apologies for any typos or grammer mistakes. 

Lan, suffer the consequences of giving me this art piece:

///

Bhairava grit his teeth as he shoved his dislocated shoulder back into position. The palace was going up in flames, half his soldiers were dead, and the other half retreating with whatever population had managed to reach the back gates of the city.

He yelled as his arm still throbbed, but there was no time for rest. He pushed through the debris until he reached the royal wing of the palace, where thankfully the flames had not reached yet. It would only be a matter of time.

He ran to the Princess- the Queen's chambers, bursting in to find his nightmare come true.

With a yell, he threw the small blade from his waist belt at Raavana, to no effect.

He flicked away the blade as though it had been a mosquito. As though it had not penetrated his skin and wounded him.

Slumped in her desk was the Queen, injured and bleeding from the arm, but miraculously still alive.

"Bhairava no!" Queen Mithravinda cried, but Bhairava tuned her out, grabbing one of the display spears and rushing at Raavana.

Even on his best day, a fight against this man was a challenge that used to bring him the highest pleasures. For his size, Jai had been fast and immoveable. Now, injured and still bleeding, well Bhairava knew a losing battle when he saw one.

But he needed to fight. Needed to distract Raavana long enough for Mithra to escape through one of the passageways where he had stationed soldiers to escort her away from the captured capital.

He took a second, just one, to catch a last look at Mithra's face, knowing in his bones this would be the last time he saw her.

He swung at Raavana, but the man swatted away the spear easily, instead delivering a powerful kick to Bhairava's chest that caused all the air in his chest to escape as he was hurled against the wall.

Blinking through the pain blurring his vision he reached for his sword with a trembling hand, pushing himself by the elbow to stand up. Only to scream when it was kicked out of his grasp and a foot came down hard on his injured arm, dislocating his shoulder again. A heavy weight settled against his chest, further obstructing his ability to breathe. He wretched his eyes open to see a smirking Raavana kneeling on top of him, one arm resting on the foot pressing his shoulder down.

An almost soft caress traced his cheek.

"Poor little soldier. I could have given you the world Kala Bhairava."

"I could never have been with someone who plays with lives as if they're disposable, Raavana." Bhairava bit out.

Raavana clicked his tongue. "There used to be a time when you called me by a different name. Screamed it too."

"I was not thinking clearly."

Raavana's eyes flashed as he roughly grabbed Bhairava's jaw, yanking his head up, forcing him to arch his neck. "I could have come to care for you."

"It takes a heart to care, Raavana."

Raavana snarled, hand slipping to wrap around Bhairava's throat. "She could never truly love you. She could never marry you. She could never see you as more than a soldier.

I COULD HAVE MADE YOU A KING!" Raavana roared.

"Not all of us are willing to sacrifice everything for power." Bhairava choked out, free hand itching for his waist belt while Raavana focused on his face.

"You would die for her?" Raavana growled.

"My life is meaningless in the larger scheme of things, if I have to die so she can live, then so be it."

Raavana tightened his grip, making Bhairava kick out his leg as his body tried to escape the punishing grasp. Raavana leaned down until his breath wafted over Bhairava's face. "Well looks like you are out of luck, Kala Bhairava. You are going to see as I kill her, and then I'll come and kill you."

"You...you're sure about that?" Bhairava gasped.

Raavana's jaw clenched as he whipped his head to find Mithra, only to find the chair empty, and the Queen long gone.

Bhairava used the split second to swipe the short dagger from Raavana's boot, slicing up his calf. Raavana roared again as he lost his balance.

Bhairava pooled all his remaining strength to roll them over so he was the one on top. "You shouldn't have come here Raavana. Because now, you're never going to leave."

Bhairava brought the dagger down in a powerful swing only to stop a hairs breath away from actually stabbing him. His fist curled into Raavana's armor instead as tears clouded his eyes.

Raavana laughed. "All those words, and you still can't see it. You still care for me Bhairava. That's why you can't kill me."

Bhairava looked at him with hatred, and betrayal.

Raavana.

Jai.

How could he have been so wrong about him? How could he have let himself fall for such a monster? Why couldn't he slay the beast? He felt exhausted, the drain of the battle, the revelation of his heart.

He dropped the dagger, collapsing on a chest he had spent many enjoyable nights with. Except where those had been filled with pleasure and a blossoming love, here they laid in a room whose walls were being licked by flames, resting on a pool of their blood.

"Perhaps I cannot kill you Raavana, but I can make sure I don't die alone."

Raavana.

No.

Jai.

No. Raavan-Jai sighed. "If there was anyone I could have seen by my side in life, it was you Kala Bhairava. You will do to accompany me in death instead."

As the two broken, bleeding men laid there, the fire reached the roof of the palace. It would soon break through the wooden beams and bring the whole structure on top of them. In another universe this story could have had a kinder ending. In another universe, this ending would never have occurred. In this universe, as a flaming lamp fell, it's rod pierced through two chests, interlocked them in death for eternity.  

///

@rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks​ @tulodiscord​ @teddybat24​ @sally-for-sally​ @jadebomani​ @stuckyandlarrystuff​ @veteran-fanperson​ @ohfuckoffpls​  @carminavulcana​ @boochhaan​ @doodlesofthelastpage​ @filesbeorganized @meownique​ @ssabriel​ @meastradeur​ @ronika-writes-stuff​ @umbrulla​  

#rrr #jairava #jai x bhairava #jai lava kusa #magadheera #jai kumar #kala bhairava #bhairava #my fic #my writing

[tomionefinds]

This is such a shameful question so I'm sorry in advance 😂✌ Any smut galore multi-chapter completed fics you can recommend? Thank you!!

Hey Anon,

Absolutely no need to feel ashamed here, you are amongst like minded peers.

I'm just gonna list a fic from a few authors had to set some limits otherwise this would go on and on, but if you need more I recommend using Ao3's search filters too. I put something like over 40k just to try to rein this list in some. LOTS of really great smutty WIPs and oneshots out there.. Check the adultfanfiction site too. To be honest all of these authors have multiple completed multi-chapter explicit works, so I would definitely recommend pulling up their profiles and perusing their other works to see if any other strike your fancy. -JD

Tom, just Tom by Ciule E/Ma | Complete | 121k Lord Voldemort slithered out of the Veil on New Year's Eve in the year 2000. Still bent on world domination, he decided that Golden Girl Granger would be the perfect accessory on his arm.

Nightmare by provocative_envy E/Ma | Complete | 156k A broken time turner shouldn't have sent me back so far. It was unprecedented. Stepping on it--smashing it--nothing should have happened. At most, I should have lost a week. At worst, I should have disappeared altogether. I shouldn't have traveled back fifty-two years; half a bloody century. This should not have happened.

The Prisoner by NerysDax E/Ma | Complete | 182k Imprisoned, Lord Voldemort is considered a threat of the past. His knowledge is desired by many. Yet, his offer is for one person only: Hermione Weasley-Granger.

The Art of Secrecy by mrsren E/Ma | Complete | 63k It had been the perfect one night stand until she, literally, fell face first at his feet and discovered he was her professor.

Bound by Sharkdiver1980 E/Ma | Complete | 59k After a freak accident occurs while attempting to destroy one of Voldemort’s horcruxes that sends Hermione back in time to the year 1947, she finds herself forcefully subjected to a new law put in place by the ministry to counteract the damage to the wizarding population done by Grindelwald. It was no wonder she had never heard of Proclamation no.1682, otherwise known as “The Marriage Law”, since it had obviously been repealed almost as quickly as it was instated. The problem was, she had already been assigned a husband. HG/TMR

Shared Flame by Lady Miya M | Complete | 311k It all started when two normally clever individuals both had a really lousy day.

Dark Seduction by crochetaway E/Ma | Complete | 73k As Tom Riddle is hunting for the diadem in Albania, he stumbles across a strange artifact he's never seen before. Hermione Granger is a lowly Ministry employee on vacation in the mountains of Albania. She's found the perfect cabin for a week of relaxing, hiking and reading. Until a stranger shows up in her living room. Wearing a time-turner. Complete!

Insight & Desire by WildKitsune Series: Every Witch Way [1] E/Ma | Complete | 43k Hermione Granger is the most brilliant witch of her age. This may be why she is arrogant enough to mess with time. Hermione accidentally travels back to Tom's final year at Hogwarts, and on her trip home has a bit of a stowaway. As if one Tom Riddle wasn't hard enough to handle, they seem to be popping up at her everywhere she turns. As Hermione is sucked more deeply into Lord Voldemort's plots, she doesn't know if she will ever escape.

Linen Rope by Brightki E/Ma | Complete | 80k Hermione is an upper sixth student at the highly elite Hogwarts School, and she needs extra hours working in the school’s science labs for her pre-admission to Oxford the next year. However, she has to get the approval from the chemistry teacher, Dr. Snape, as well as the support of the man in charge of the science department - Dr. Tom Riddle.

Pygmalion by Colubrina M | Complete | 178k When Tom Riddle walked through a doorway one fall afternoon everything changed and he found himself in a world wholly unprepared for him. "Something about you makes my brain itch," Hermione Granger said. "As if an earthquake had shifted everything sharply two feet to the left and then back again and it didn't all fit back quite right." Tomione. AU. COMPLETE.

Fated by MiraMain E/Ma | Completed | 136k Voldemort's black gaze stares for what seems like hours. All is silence but my ragged breathing. My bloody lip dripping onto the forest floor. He finally speaks “It shall be a pleasure to bring you into submission Hermione”

#Tomione #Smut #Lots of Smut #multichapter #completed #rated: ma/e #rated: e

[oscarjcarlisle]

This is Isaac, my OC with the most lore and worldbuilding around him (but not much art yet). He’s a red panda, he was born in 1804 in Tibet, died in an accident as a young man, and was resurrected by his parents, a pair of powerful necromancers. Isaac is the only known case of full, complete resurrection in history, even Jesus (who historically lived and was resurrected in this universe) was only brought back for several days and in dubious physicality. Isaac was fully resurrected.

Magic in this universe also comes with “riders”, random side effects that correlate roughly in severity to the magic being performed. Usually it’s not a big deal, sometimes you cast fireball and a dove flies out of the flames for some reason. But resurrection is on another level of power, one of the highest levels, and in Isaac’s case, the rider that came attached with his resurrection was immortality. The odds of this are astronomical, which is why he’s the only case of immortality in his universe, ever.

Since his accident and resurrection in the early 1800’s, Isaac has bounced around the world essentially following his passions; fighting in wars he thinks need fought, protesting wars he thinks are pointless, seeking out the hidden magical communities around the world to unravel the secrets of his creation, and prevent the creation of any more beings like himself.

He fought in the First World War, starting in the African Theatre helping local rebellions against Germany, and was praised by his English comrades as a dead shot sniper. He went to the eastern front, where he met bolsheviks, read Marxist theory, and decided to join the brewing Russian Civil War. After the establishment of the Soviet Union, he got a position in the NKVD, and eventually his own special branch, the secret Paranormal Affairs division, which allowed him to seek out and “neutralize” supernatural threats to the Soviet Union, and to study paranormal and magical happenings and artifacts to his heart’s content. Isaac detested Stalin (and had several plans to assassinate him, but never carried them out) but used his paranoia and superstitious nature to get more funding for his research.

When Molotov-Ribbentrop pact was signed, Isaac declared the Soviet project dead in his heart, and began using his position in the NKVD to weaken Stalin’s police state as much as possible, and keep tabs on the Nazis. Isaac learned of the Final Solution in its early stages, but Stalin ignored his letters, so he went and fought on the ground on the eastern front instead.

After WWII, he went back to the Soviet Union, trying to mitigate the damage Stalin could do, tying up loose ends in the NKVD before it would become the KGB. The anti-colonialist and socialist rhetoric of Ho Chi Minh led him to Vietnam, where he fought in the Vietcong (not the Vietminh) primarily as a sniper. But when the firebombing campaign began, the compounding traumas of war drove him slightly insane.

He left Vietnam, took a job on a cargo ship from the Philippines to South America, and began working his way north toward the US, unsure of what he was going to do, but mired in nightmares and hallucinations of the firebombings. He’s stopped in Mexico by an empath, an indigenous healer who senses his rage and trauma, and guides him on several mushroom and peyote trips, which reveal to him the true nature of his existence, the permanence of his being, the power that grants him, and the fragility of his mind.

So for a while he spends his time having fun, through the late 60’s to the late 80’s, and his idea of fun is fast boats and cars, lots of drugs, and getting shot at. He begins hoarding wealth for his perpetual retirement, mostly by designing and selling submachine guns to the drug cartels (and socialist revolutionaries! He didn’t forget!) and smuggling high value items between Colombia, the US, and Cuba.

In the 90’s he begins buying up real estate around the world, and on 7 carefully selected plots of land, he builds his Compounds: places where he can safely store magical artifacts, which he’s been accumulating over the years; places where he can relax, disconnect himself from the world (all 7 are in remote locations); places where he can meditate, do drugs, work on his projects.

And that’s his history up to now, basically.

#worldbuilding #furry #red panda #magic system #alternate history #omg I can write so much more than I could on twitter where have you been all my life

[nightmareflame]

Happy (little late) birthday @pastelpaperplanes ! 🥳✨

I couldn´t resist NOT to draw this sexy pretty man!😳 I love him very dearly💖 Hope you like him! ^^

#Megatron #TFAMegatron #Transformers #Humanformers #TFA #Transformers Animated #design #gift #art #digital art #sketch #artist on tumblr #nightmare flame's art #nightmare flame´s art

[novafire-is-thinking]

Behind the Playlist - Transformers: Prime Edition (Part 6 of 22: Bumblebee)

Link to the other posts in my Behind the Playlist series

✧ ✧ ✧

“I had thought myself ended when Bumblebee fell—a moment of despair so great in me then that all that Unicron himself had ever done to destroy the Thirteen Primes was as nothing against it. Why him? Why not the millions of others who had passed that gate before him? I can’t say, only that there was a special light in Bumblebee, and when it went out, my own faith went with him.”

^ An excerpt from one of Optimus Prime’s personal journal entries in The Covenant of Primus

During the war, Bumblebee was a spark of hope in an increasingly dark period and continued to be one afterwards. I tried to capture that aspect of him in this playlist.

Intended overarching themes and/or qualities: Light in the Dark, Unsinkable Hope, The Young Warrior’s Journey

My personal favorite(s) from this playlist: Here’s To Us, Lights, The Worlds We Discovered, and Our Time

✧ ✧ ✧

Full song list and explanations under the cut:

Bumblebee by Brian Tyler

No explanation needed.

Fight On, Fighter by for KING & COUNTRY

Imagine, if you will, Optimus saying these very words to his young charge when he would notice him struggling with the memories of that fateful day at Tyger Pax.

(See: ‘Bumblebee At Tyger Pax’ by Alex Irvine, an Aligned Continuity canon short story)

Battle Scars by Paradise Fears

“This is a call to the soldiers, the fighters, / the young, the innocent, and righteous / We've got little room to grow / Better days are near / Hope is so much stronger than fear

So if you jump kid don't be scared to fall / We'll be kings and queens in this dream / All for one, one for all / You can light up the dark / There's a fire in your heart, / Burning brighter than ever before”

Shooting Star by Owl City

“When the sun goes down and the lights burn out / Then it's time for you to shine / Brighter than a shooting star / So shine no matter where you are / Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light / 'Cause it's time for you to shine / Brighter than a shooting star / So shine no matter where you are tonight”

Embers by Owl City

“There were days when each hour was a war I fought to survive / There were nights full of nightmares and I dreaded closing my eyes / There were skies that burst open with a downpour to drown me alive / But the world took a spark like a match in the dark and the fire brought me to life / So I'm fanning the flames to climb so high 'cause there's no other way we can stay alive”

This entire song is a perfect fit for Bee and his journey from young sparkling, to Team Prime’s scout, to wounded warrior, to hero.

Here’s To Us by Kevin Rudolf

“So here's to us / And all our broken dreams / That never came to pass / We're still kings and queens / Here's to all we loved / That wasn't meant to last / Here's to everyone / Who said we never had a chance / Here's to us”

Art of War by We The Kings

They say kids are resilient. I think that applies to those of Cybertron too. Of course, they shouldn’t be forced to be that way by war, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Thankfully, Bumblebee has never lost sight of hope despite everything he’s gone through.

Can You Hear Me Now by The Score

This one was recommended to me by @onewingedsparrow. Here’s what she had to say about it:

^ You can be sure I was glad I checked it out. It’s a perfect fit for Bee’s story.

Heroes of Today by Once Monsters

“Legends will be told / I  know they will / But  they're all growing old / It's time to fill up / The history books”

And fill up the history books he did. Or at least a pivotal part of history.

Lights by Written by Wolves

“The darkest days and the longest nights / Light up with just a spark / I won’t let the light burn out inside of you”

I like to think that when Bee reached a point where he understood the weight of all that Optimus and others carried on their older, more experienced shoulders, he made an inner commitment to help keep their spirits lifted as long as he could.

Indestructible by Daniel Baron

Bumblebee certainly knew he wasn’t indestructible, but there were times when he would have had to believe himself to be in order to make it through extra difficult moments during the war.

Champions by Kurt Hugo Schneider, Andie Case

“Barely breathing on the ground / You left my body to be found / But scars give me life / You should've killed me twice”

To: Megatron, From: Bumblebee, the one who finally ended you. And then you came back, but I won’t go there

The Worlds We Discovered - Matt Parker Remix by Twilight Meadow

A war fought across galaxies does have at least one advantage: setting foot on new worlds. But on the serious side, I’m sure Bee and the others wondered whether or not they’d ever see the proverbial sunrise of peace and/or get to set optics on Cybertron’s literal sunrise again.

No One Stands Alone by Raphael Lake

Teamwork + Found Family vibes.

Our Time by Nick Howard

I think this song captures Bumblebee’s values, how he sees Team Prime, and his understanding of their ultimate mission of bringing unity back to Cybertron.

Underdog by The Script

Bumblebee has a lot of experience being the underdog. He’d definitely be one of the first to step up and fight for other underdogs.

Battle Scars (Reprise) by Paradise Fears

This is the story of a dreamer / A soldier / With the weight of the world upon his soldiers / Who's got a little room to grow / Better days are near / Hope is so much stronger than fear

✧ ✧ ✧

Notes:

This post series is in alphabetical order. Next up are Cliffjumper and Dreadwing.

As I add more songs to the playlist, I’ll update this post.

#transformers prime #transformers prime playlists #tfp #tfp playlists #transformers #transformers playlists #tfp bumblebee #bumblebee #maccadam #behind the playlist #Spotify

[mywifeleftme]

90: Joe Coleman // Infernal Machine

Infernal Machine Joe Coleman 1990, Blast First

Joe Coleman emerged in the late 1970s from the alternative comix scene established by artists like Art Spiegelman (Maus), Kim Deitch (Waldo the Cat), and Bill Griffith (Zippy the Pinhead), but found greater notoriety as a painter and a shock artist. Here’s Spin’s Dean Kuipers on a performance (as his character Professor Mombooze-o) that resulted in one of Coleman’s numerous arrests:

“Boston, October 22, 1989. Reel after reel of ancient hardcore porno films flash onto a black screen onstage at BF/VF—the Boston Film/Video Foundation—grey and grainy, somebody else's fucking and sucking memories of indeterminate age. After 20 minutes, the hundred people in the audience are quiet and disarmed. The lights come up.

Joe Coleman instantly comes whapping through the film screen from behind, hanging upside down from a climber's harness attached to the ceiling, screaming and choking like a man condemned. This is the man everyone came to see. Green flames and acrid smoke belch from his chest as strapped-on explosives detonate under layers of shirt, ratty duck jacket and lab coat. Half a minute later, the booming and gnarling subside and Coleman's wife, Nancy, leaps out and douses him with goats’ blood to put out the fires. She cuts him down and he tears away what's left of the black screen to reveal a dead goat hanging upside down, twisting slowly. The goat is real. The odor of spattered blood and gunpowder seeps into the stunned crowd.

'Here are Mommy and Daddy!' cries Coleman, rushing to the front of the stage and pulling two live white mice from his pockets. He sits down on the edge of the stage and holds Mommy and Daddy up to his scorched beard and talks to them. Meanwhile, Nancy pulls out her Zippo and torches a cloth/plastic effigy of Coleman. The stage is consumed by fire as Joe screams at the squirming mice, 'I'll eat the cancer out of you!' and bites the head off Daddy, spewing it back into the audience. Then he snaps Mommy's head: hers he swallows.

This is Joe Coleman's stone ritualization of his mother's death. Four days earlier, she had died of cancer.

The befuddled firemen who arrive minutes later are sure that this must be the meeting of a satanic cult. As police investigators pick through the chaos of greening humans, brown smoke and bloody carcasses, the owners of BF/VF finger Joe and Nancy, then fire manager Jeri Rossi. All three are arrested and Joe is charged with—among other things—an old Massachusetts blue law charge that hasn't been used since the 1800s: Possession of an Infernal Machine."

(You can watch an excerpt of a similar performance in the 1988 pseudo-documentary Mondo New York, though I do not recommend doing so if you’re troubled by animal cruelty.)

The Infernal Machine LP is a figurative soundtrack to the Mombooze-o character, which he retired following the Boston bloodbath. Side one (“Homage to Mass Murderers”) intersperses vintage country and blues murder ballads with exploitation film clips and interviews with murderers Ed Kemper and Charles Manson. Side two (“Infernal Machine”) is a collage of clips from TV shows and ‘40s films noir, audio from Coleman’s Mondo New York performance, and early live recordings by NYC noise punks Steel Tips.

The overall effect is eerie, and there are some powerful juxtapositions. The way the clip of Kemper’s tearful description of murdering his own mother segues into Eddie Noack’s 1968 recording of “Psycho” underscores the song’s unnerving potency; tucked between relatively jaunty tunes by Bessie Smith and Tex Ritter, a long clip of character actor Don Russell’s genuinely moving performance as a kidnapped schoolteacher begging for his life from 1963’s The Sadist (based on the Charles Starkweather murders) seems to represent man’s powerlessness in a capricious universe. Side two is bookended by excerpts from the 1947 film Nightmare Alley, in which a series of disasters reduce cocksure Stan Carlisle (played by Tyrone Power) from his position as a carnival barker to the role of a despised geek who earns a meagre living by biting the heads off chickens in front of jeering crowds. The implication is that, as Mombooze-o, Coleman himself has been similarly forced into the role of a freak by the diseased contemporary world.

The LP includes a twelve-page booklet of Coleman’s paintings and, most interestingly, a picture-disc reproduction of details from its cover image, Portrait of Professor Mombooze-o. I’m not normally much interested in picture discs, but the sight of Coleman’s zombified head spinning on the table (or the dead fish bursting from his crotch on the flip) really does complete the package. It’s as a visual artist that Coleman’s chief gifts reveal themselves. His obsessively detailed paintings, which he works out over months and sometimes years using a single horsehair brush, are the most successful transference of an alt. comix sensibility to the gallery I’ve come across. If the work in R. Crumb’s classic Weirdo anthologies could feel like a mutated, devolved descendent of the feverish iconography of sixteenth century religious art, Coleman’s paintings are that mutant culture’s return to high art.

Coleman frequently conflates people like Charles Manson with Jesus Christ, saying in a ‘90s tour of his collection of oddities that he keeps a lock of Manson’s hair and a sample of Christ’s marrow. Falling back on the Blakean idea of a marriage of heaven and hell, he claims that if the pair’s DNA could be mixed in a clone it would create a perfect Messiah. However, the mingling of deviants and prophets in Coleman’s hagiographic art does not, as Coleman seems to mystically intend, elevate the former towards divinity so much as it pulls the latter earthward. Serial killers are, almost without exception, insipid creatures, powerless to explain their own behaviour with any real insight—as are for that matter, many holy men. Maniacs and religious figures are akin in the sense that each possesses intense evocative potential. A crazed killer’s actions, which seem both primal and alien, tear at the fabric of our notion of a shared reality. It is tempting to read their murders, being as superficially inexplicable as miraculous events, as signs or portents, the killers themselves as visionaries. Put another way, both religious phenomena and psychopathic behaviour create a void of ostensible meaning that humans are agitated to fill. Meaning does not arise from their actions but is imputed to them by witnesses. In Coleman, these boring, broken men who kill find a witness capable of making them a genuinely mythic force.

Portrait of Charles Manson, 1988 I find Coleman’s art as inspired and fascinating as I find his philosophy stunted and dull. In an interview with Richard Metzger on the BBC series Disinformation, Coleman says, with reference to mass murderer Richard Speck, “I don't want to kill anybody, but I want to express that pain. I want to express what he was trying to express. What if he didn't have to do that? And maybe, just maybe, art is a thing where you can do that.” Ten years previously, Coleman told an anecdote in Mondo New York about covering himself in blood and harassing random women at New York bars; when their boyfriends would intervene, he’d light the fuse on the hidden explosives attached to his chest and then calmly walk out of the bar in the confusion, enjoying the screams and smoke. Whether he’s spinning a yarn or recounting something he actually did, it’s clear he gets the same petty thrill out of terrifying strangers as the sickos (both real and fictional) excerpted on the Infernal Machine LP do. This doesn’t make him a monster, but it does clarify that when he talks about “expressing” their pain he also wants his share of their freedom to do violence. Of all the reasons it’s good for Coleman that he ended up an artist instead of a cut-rate David Berkowitz, the most telling is this: if he had, what artist of his quality would’ve wanted to take him as their subject?

90/365

#joe coleman #vinyl record #music review #picture disc #serial killers #charles starkweather #charles manson #manson family #richard speck #richard metzger #nightmare alley #alt. comix #comix #weirdo #mondo #'80s music #'50s music #'40s music #'60s music #'70s music

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness, Obey Me Master List

Stories written in 2023 in italics and blue

Court of Darkness Stories/Drabbles

Love Letters (Toa, Guy, Fenn, Roy)

Charred Delight (Roy, Sherry, Grayson)

The Art of the Massage (S:Rank Princes)

Satisfaction (Guy X MC)

You Look Good With... (MC X Princes); Basket Full of Troubles (Knight and Toa)

Bye Bye Anders (Princes, Lou, MC, Sherry, Violet)

Sleeping Places (Fenn and S Rank Princes)

You Are My Sunshine (Tino X MC, also features Lynt, Toa)

The Moment (MC X Guy, Lynn, Roy, Rio); Picture Perfect (Princes, Lou)

Fluffy/Sugary Short Stories with MC X Princes

Anxiety Ridden (MC X Tino, MC X Roy); Handmade Gifts (Princes)

Wedding Days (MC X Toa (plus Fenn/Knight), MC X Guy (plus Roy/Jasper))

A Test of Kingcraft Part I (Princes); Part II (Princes); Part III (Princes, Lou)

Dirty Pictures (All Consorts); The Swear Jar (Princes, Lou, Valets, Sherry)

The Spray Bottle (Princes, Valets, Sherry)

Lessons in Love (Princes); The Steal - First Kiss (Rio X MC, Sherry)

I Knew I Forgot Something - Proposal (Rio X MC, Toa)

Court of Darkness Head Cannons/Memes

Gently Roasting Halloween Demon Outfits (Princes)

Fenn Offers Unsolicited Relationship Advice (Fenn and all the Princes)

Starbucks Orders (All the Consorts)

Valet Headcannons; Prince Reactions to MC Being Cold/Shivering

Spicy Gifts (All Consorts); It’s all Fun and Games (Princes)

Getting Caught in the Moment (Princes and Tino)

Consort Nicknames + Why: Part I, Part II

Sherry and MC Discuss MC’s Relationship with the Princes

Princes as Disney Villians; Princes as Disney Heroes; Princes as Wild Animals

Princes - What Flower Would They Give the MC + Why

Princes as Mythical Creatures; Princes as Dogs; Princes as Cats

How Princes Would Respond to a Booty Call

How Consorts Would Live at Hogwarts Universe; Hogwarts Houses

Court of Darkness Rankings

Spice Level Tolerance (Princes)

Getting Caught Between the Sheets - Who’s Most Embarrassed (Princes/Valets)

Betrayal Ranking (Who is Most Hurt by a Cheating MC - Princes/Valets)

Court of Darkness - The Roy Chronicles (Roy X MC)

Untamed (also features Sherry, Rio, and Fenn); Nothing Else to Compare

Sleeping Beauty (Birthday Story); Morning Delight

Smile; Passion Revealed

Seven Minutes of Heaven (also features Lynt, Fenn, Guy)

Lipstick Obsessed (also features Sherry, Fenn, and Lynt)

Wedding Day (also features Sherry, Rio, Lynt, and Roy’s parents)

Perfect Proposal (Roy X MC, Sherry); Cute-Tea (Roy X MC, Sherry, Grayson)

Court of Darkness - Toa’s Tales (Toa X MC)

Warmth

Puuuurfection; Symphony

Puppy Love; Just Desserts (MC X Toa, Fenn)

Court of Darkness - Lance’s Fables (Lance X MC)

The Prince of Ember and Flame (Character Analysis)

Don’t Make Me Say It; Remembrance

Obey Me! The Diavolo Chronicles (Dia X MC)

It’s a Wonderful Life ; Tap, Tap, Tap (Teen Rating)

Guiding Light (Also features Lucifer, Barbatos)

Love Me Like You Do; Pawsome Love; Savor Every Bite

Obey Me! Drabbles/Short Stories

Gift (Lucifer X MC); Read Between the Lines (Satan X MC/Reader)

Candy Hearts (Brothers + Diavolo)

What MC Stands For (Brothers); To-Do List (MC, Barbatos, Lucifer, Diavolo)

Thirsty (MC, Barbatos, Lucifer, Beel, Dia)

My Lips are Sealed (MC X Lucifer, Mammon); Nightmare Come to Life (Diavolo)

Following Advice (Diavolo X MC, Asmo, Lucifer, Barbatos)

The Bookclub (Brothers); The Swear Jar (Brothers)

Obey Me! Head Cannons/Memes

Brothers + Dateables Reactions to MC Getting a Bad Haircut

Brothers + Dia Awkward Flirting Memes; Brothers + Dia as Lions

Brothers + Dia as Cat Memes; Brothers + Dia as Disney Memes

Brothers + Dia Love Notes

Brothers + Dia: What Flowers Would They Give to Confess Their Love?

Brothers + Dia as Dogs; Brothers + Dia as Cats

#masterlist #otome fanfic #otome fandom #obey me #court of darkness #obey me nightbringer

[kiliinstinct]

Refinement - Team 30 RBB Entry

My final contribution to the Reverse Big Bang hosted by @ftguildevents ! This is a story about Natsu, inspired by @phoenix-before-the-flame ‘s amazing artwork that will be accompanying it. 

Click Here For the Art 

Find This on A03

---

Darkness.  

It was a blanket. A thick film that covered him from head to toe, blinding Natsu while he struggled to see. When he growled, it slithered through his teeth and down his throat suffocating him. He could hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing. The environment around him was just a void intent to crush him; but inside, there was pain, deep and searing. It burned him despite the flames he housed inside his being. It stabbed him without any substance, any sharpness. It sizzled and burned through his veins, traveled through his muscles and seeped into his very bones.

He screamed, but no sound escaped him. Choked, but no one could hear him.

“The more you fight, the more it hurts.”

Except one voice, echoing through the void. Low, mirthless and familiar. 

“So quit struggling, little brother.”

Natsu jolted awake with a yell that echoed off the walls, throat raw from the volume and body covered in a layer of sweat that chilled him.  Gasping, he inhaled air as if he were eating it, gulping it down while his head throbbed. His mouth was dry, and when he swallowed, he thought he tasted a hint of blood. Dazedly, he struggled to move off his hammock, mind reeling in multiple directions, but circling back to one, clear thought. Water. He needed water. Anything to soothe the burning sensation that scorched his throat. 

Forgetting himself, his hand slipped off the edge of the netting and the world turned upside down, flipping as he met the ground with a thud that shook the walls and a few pinned papers fell off the walls. Natsu barely registered his ungraceful landing, instincts in overdrive as he felt the last vestiges of his dream still clinging to him. The darkness was still there, clinging to his shoulders. It weighed him down. He had to move. 

With heavy feet, he stomped through his house, grabbed the nearest mug he could find and chugged it as soon as it was full of water. Not enough. He refilled and drank again, spilling some as he missed his mouth and dribbled down his chin and to the floor. Still not enough. Five more cups and he still felt dehydrated, panting as his senses slowly caught up with the rest of the world. 

And the terrified Happy sitting on the counter next to him.

“- did you have the nightmare again?” Happy asked when their gazes finally met. Everything felt still, frozen in time and Natsu briefly wondered just who or what he was looking at. Where was he again?  Memories flashed forward and recollection forced him to twist his mouth into a half-hearted grin.

“Not the same one.” He said, refilling the mug for the last time: hopefully. 

Happy’s gaze pierced him through the darkness, slightly illuminated by the moon shining through the window. It was obvious he didn’t believe Natsu’s words, but rather than press it, he shrugged and tried again, “This one sounded bad. Was it similar?”

Zeref’s voice filtered through Natsu’s mind. That humorless laugh as he mocked Natsu’s struggle to breathe and ordered him to stay still. The way it came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Something pulled in the back of his mind, a soft whisper that he refused to listen to. He drank from his mug to give himself a moment to piece his words together. “Nah. Just a memory. Ya’ know, Igneel.”

Realization dawned on Happy’s face and the little exceed took to the air, wailing as he clung to Natsu’s arm in the tightest hug he could manage. “Natsuuuu, I’m sorry!” It took some time for both of them to calm down. Happy’s hug was a comfort and Natsu patted his head to help maintain that he was fine, but in the back of his mind he knew the truth. It was more to reassure himself than Happy. A reminder of where he was. Who he was. That he was home and in the comfort of his own good memories.

When Happy finally went back to sleep, swaying in his own, tiny hammock, Natsu avoided his own and dropped his pillow and thin blanket to the floor. He couldn’t sleep there. Not right now. While the floor wasn’t the optimum bed, it would have to do. It was the least he deserved after what he’d just done. 

Igneel’s death was a painful memory. One that would always twinge and hurt him. A visual he would never forget, but it wasn’t the nightmare that plagued him night after night. Not the darkness that moved to swallow him whole. When the dreams started, he had unloaded the details and his feelings to Happy the moment he calmed down enough to remember how to talk, but the dreams continued. Repeating first every other week, but slowly increasing in number. He couldn’t admit to it. He couldn’t give Happy any more reason to worry. Natsu couldn’t. And the lie that slipped through his teeth felt like rocks settling in his stomach. I’m sorry, buddy. The apology would be late in coming, but saying it out loud was too much for him. If he admitted it verbally, that would mean admitting to things he wasn’t ready to think about:

What the darkness meant, and why a voice whispered soothing promises of carnage in the deepest depths of his mind.  He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and closed his eyes. Sleep would be fleeting for the rest of the night.

I can’t tell you. I can’t… I can’t tell anybody. I’m so, so sorry.

These lies began months ago. And with each new nightmare that terrorized his sleep, the lies continued. The voice in the back of his head, often speaking in the depths of the night, often echoed its memories during the day. Sleep became a stranger and Natsu’s energy slowly drained with each new day.  The Guild was accustomed to Natsu napping in the hall, especially after a difficult battle, but the amount of cat naps he began to take, started to raise a few eyebrows. And each time Happy prodded him for an answer, he shrugged it off with a smile, forcing the darkness away to start a rambunctious spar in the guild. Anything, to give the impression that while he was tired, Natsu was still Natsu. Right? 

‘Now you know that’s not true.’ The nightly voice began its whispers yet again. Soft, but dark- an alluring power that tempted and raised the hairs on the back of Natsu’s neck. ‘You know there’s something more-’ His thoughts were far too loud.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. 

‘You’re not even human.’

“Shut up!”  Natsu jolted awake from his own voice, snarling his words as a guttural growl echoed through the hall. What was once a loud, bustling place, fell silent. Blinking to readjust his vision, Natsu balked as Happy and Lucy sat across from him: stunned.

“... Uh-  That’s a no, then?” Lucy asked, tentatively, hand outstretched as if poised to tap his hand, but she thought better of it and pulled it away. 

Natsu stared. “What?” He asked, confused.

“We asked if you wanted to try a job.” Happy explained. His tiny feet padded across the table as he patted the top of Natsu’s head, paws rustling his hair. “You know, since you seem so tired. We thought going out through the town for some small jobs could help energize you?”

Natsu looked at Happy, then to Lucy before his eyes slid back to Happy’s. When had he dozed off?  “... Well, why not?”

Lucy gawked. “You can’t be serious. You fell asleep halfway through your lunch, snarled at Happy and me and don’t know why we’d think that’s a no?”

“Oh, right.” He had the courtesy to look sheepish. “My bad. We could totally try somethin’, it’s been a coupla days, right?”

“More like a week.”  Lucy said.

Now, that didn’t sound right. Natsu’s back stiffened and he stretched, ignoring the thoughts screaming in his head. “Seriously? There’s no way! Erza, Ice Princess or even Wendy snagged some jobs for us recently-”

“They did.” Happy agreed, but he didn’t meet Natsu’s eyes, “You uh- you told them you weren’t in the mood.”

That really didn’t sound right. “Why would I turn down a job? Now Gray’s gonna hold that over my head forever!”

“Why?” Lucy repeated, slamming a palm to the table. Natsu froze and, horrified, realized her eyes were watery. Before he could try and ask her not to cry, she leaned over the table and poked him on the nose. “That’s what we'd like to know! I’ve got rent due soon, and you’re acting weird. Too weird! Did you somehow get your hands on Etherion again or something? Are you okay? Are you sick? Can you even GET sick?”

“Uh, Lucy, you’re rambling like a weirdo, again.” Happy interjected, but earned himself a quick glare from the blonde.

When it looked like the two were about to start bickering, they were interrupted by Natsu standing abruptly, eyes looking glazed and tired while he glanced towards the job board. Across the hall, most could only pick out the larger details of each paper blaring with large title signs, pleading for help, but Natsu, through his blurred gaze, noticed a few jobs that would do just the trick. 

“Happy, help Lucy.”

The Exceed blinked, confusion evident in his wide eyes, “Natsu?”

Too tired. Way too tired. “With her rent and stuff,” he motioned towards the board before glancing to both teammates, an exhausted grin split his face and he yawned, “there’s plenty of jobs you can do in town today that’s quick and easy.”

Silence filled the entire hall. Too many guild members were nosy and not a single one attempted to hide their obvious eavesdropping. Onlookers stared, slack-jawed at Natsu’s decision, but he couldn’t be bothered. The thoughts were deafening, the need to sleep a weight he couldn’t lift and the worry of his comrades was not enough to change it. Lucy and Happy both tried to interject, but he waved them off and groaned, walking off before the conversation could go any further. The doors looked so inviting. The exit and way back to his home.

Then again, each table he walked by looked just as inviting. He could sleep anywhere if he really wanted to, but no. If he had another dream, it was best done in the confines of his own home, away from prying eyes. 

“Happy, do you know something?”

“I- .. I don’t know!”

He caught their voices. They echoed into his ears, but he couldn’t be bothered with them. The guilt he’d felt for months rose like the tides and Natsu grit his teeth. He hated it. All of it. Why was this happening? When the doors slammed shut behind him, the heat of the sun beat across his face in greeting and his steps trudged like lead towards the one place he could be alone.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The trek back to his home at the edges of Magnolia was a slow one, but the very reason his energy levels were low, was such a distance away, it would take days - or weeks- to reach. Far past the architectural remains of Tartaros, through the fields, forests and mountains of Fiore, over the Ocean and Beyond. The very reason to Natsu’s nightmares hummed to himself at his desk, working away through the empty pages of an old book, filled with blotches of ink and mystical spells wrapped and merged together with scientific formulas. 

It truly was a shame the members of Fairy Tail couldn’t stop Zeref from obtaining his strongest book. END lay open before him, the pages an age old memory the Mage could recite with ease. If they had any inkling of the true power tucked within that book, of what it really held, would they have tried harder to keep it in their grasp? Zeref doubted it.  They hadn’t the knowledge or the capabilities to stop him when he wanted something. 

And he wanted this book. It would be useless in the hands of weaker beings when there was so much to be done. So much to prepare; and for one such as him, there was plenty of time to do it. Zeref’s work took a delicate touch. Intense focus.  He brushed the dark fringe of hair from his eyes and inhaled, holding his breath while scratching ink into magic sigils on the page.  Like surgery, he had to keep his attention. A single mistake could ruin the entire book. 

A ruined book would throw everything into disarray. Though the effects on his brother would be interesting to examine. In some ways, the experiments used to create Natsu were similar to  observing a lab rat. The part of Zeref that still loved Natsu like family, cringed at the thought, but the side that understood science, his studies, and the way of life, accepted it as a factual statement. 

Natsu Dragneel. Zeref’s little brother and experimental Demon: his little lab rat. 

Who was currently imperfect. 

“Tenrou was the first proof.” He acknowledged, allowing his voice to fill the room as his only source of interaction. “Natsu wasn’t enough. Far from it. A younger me would be willing to wait, but I’m done with that. Mistakes were made, but they can be fixed.”

Days. Weeks. Months. He’d been reworking the words of END ever since he retrieved it. Only now would the effects start to take hold on the very being they connected to. It was a shame Zeref couldn’t visit and explore these changes in person, but he wasn’t stupid. A dragonslayer’s nose would scent him as soon as he was in range. No, this would have to do. Day and night, Zeref worked, and the newest sigil he brought to life, was the fruition of all his present plans. 

If Natsu couldn’t defeat him. Then Zeref would force the destructive properties of Natsu’s blood to the front of his very psyche. He would become the power Zeref needed, no matter the consequence. Not for the first time, he considered whispering an apology into the air, but it was pointless. Too little, too late. It made no difference. The damned did not deserve forgiveness. 

The sigil flared to life seconds after Zeref’s fingers moved from it. Light glowed from the ink, a deep red that simmered and burned, creating the scent of smoke and ash to flood his study. This was expected, but the speed of the reaction surprised him. His changes were speeding up their frequency beyond his own assumptions. Brilliant. What an excellent little Brother I have.  Zeref marveled at his work as the sigil flickered from bright to dim, settling in a slight, ember glow as the small, miniature figure arose from the pages, arms and body bound by the links of chains made of ink. 

“The start of my success.” Zeref stated, a self-satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He didn’t give himself long to celebrate, dipping his quill into the bottle of ink nearby to continue his work. The pen scratched against the pages, splattering from time to time if Zeref grew too impatient with his dipping, but the figure in the sigil remained, struggling against its binds like a caged animal, struggling for freedom.

It snarled once, but the voice was so miniscule that Zeref paid it no mind. Another and once another line of etchings covered the page, a flare of flames burst from his captive, dispersing heat into Zeref’s face as his bangs blew back from the air pressure. A good sign. 

Another growl and the chains lashed out from the thrashing, smacking against the inkwell spilling forth its contents against the corner of the book. Zeref cursed, fingers gripping the quill tightly before they relaxed. A corner would not spoil his plans. 

“Now, now,” Zeref chided, voice soft as he set the bottle up once more and out of the range of his thrashing subject, “we mustn’t make a mess, Natsu.”

He finally examined his little brother, stuck in the confines of his glowing cage. A mere illusion, but a connected form that called to the inner beast that resided in Natsu’s veins. Zeref could see the preview of his work, fangs gnawing and gnashing as he continued to pull against his chains. No trace of humanity shown within his eyes, replaced by the demonic glow of fire and rage. A deep, angry fuel that gathered its strength and tried desperately to break free. 

“Do you want to kill me?” Zeref asked, his attention to his writing was gone, focusing instead on the leftover remnants of what once was his brother. “End our suffering? Do you hate me yet? Lost in nightmares as I change your genetic makeup from the inside out. This is your fault you know.”

Not strong enough. A failure. A disappointment. The list could go on. Zeref sighed and began to write once more.

“No, that’s not accurate. The fault is also mine.”

The illusion that was Natsu, but not, howled as magic and energy struck back against the sigil, each new word on the pages pouring into his body, altering him with each new addition. Zeref clicked his tongue and began to hum to the rhythm of Natsu’s incarceration. 

“Leaving you with the Dragon was a mistake.” Quick strokes against the pages and another line of changes was complete. Natsu’s body fell to the pages, curling into a ball as the snarls and growls petered out into a tired, pained whine. Zeref shushed him like a parent soothing their child and began the next line. 

“Let me… refine you.” 

The pen continued, and Natsu screamed. 

He screamed and screamed and screamed.  The darkness was no longer part of his dreams. He was small and encompassed in searing light that threatened to burn through to his bones. A heat he couldn’t handle. Gone was the laughter and the taunts, only the soft voice of Zeref as he continued his work. The walls that towered around him made Natsu feel small and miniscule, overrun by hopelessness and fear. 

It hurts. I don’t want this. I don’t want this!

He woke from another dream, throat hoarse from the force as the taste of blood tinged his tongue. It was still midday and Happy hadn’t come home yet. Natsu’s need for rest pulled him from his Guild, but now he couldn’t find solace even in the light of day.  And something was burning. 

The house. His and Happy’s home. It was burning. Burning full of flames that were his and not. He didn’t recognize them. Black embers glowed and sizzled from the floor and to every collected item he hoarded. The walls lit up and the tree, central to the design of his home, all but melted before him, falling about with the rest of his own as the roof toppled down and sunlight poured in. 

“Shit!”  

Natsu had just enough time to escape with a few things bundled into his arms. His memories continued to send smoke into the sky and Natsu realized, in horror, that everything he had, everything that represented his love and care for the Guild who had raised him, was now gone.  And a strange weakness in his legs kept him from moving further from the debris of his own home, falling to the dirt as tears stung his eyes. 

“What's.. Happening to me?!” 

He could have sworn he heard laughter, loud and mocking, echoing through the breeze. 

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