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huicitawrites · 6 months

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Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Trueform Sukuna x Fem! Reader

tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus

warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery

Part 1- It begins

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The day itself was no different than any other spring day in Japan. The vast forest gleamed with green and a soft breeze danced through the trees and rattled the leaves. In the depths, the sound of rushing water could be heard, indicating the presence of a waterfall or spring.

And yet, it was still awfully quiet.

No sounds or sights of animals- no heads of reindeers or tails of mountain foxes, not a single bird sat atop the tree branches and not the single chirp of a cricket or the all-too-known hisses of cicadas.

In any case, the air was tense, the spring wind carried gloom and silence. The dense forest did not hide you, but made you feel small and intimidated, vulnerable to the feeling of being stalked like prey.

You were capable of seeing their eyes and malformed shapes, their sights were focused on you, who was sitting inside the decorated carriage, and the men who carried you to the slaughter.

They outnumbered you and the men, they made you easy prey and yet, they did not jump at the opportunity. No, they watched. Although the bodies pushed and squeezed each other, they did not cross your path and in its stead, formed a straight path up the hill- at the top of it and at its end, a massive torii-gate could be seen.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Yes, that’s what you were- The make-up, the accessories and wedding hanfu were all a traditional façade, you were not a woman to be married off to a man as the noble customs dictate.

No.

You were a sacrifice.

An unlucky sheep being delivered to the wolf’s den in a ridiculous attempt to save the other sheep.

As the carriage advanced, you couldn’t help but grasp and twist the fabric of the dress. It was shameful, if anything. Your clan was once proud and strong, almost at par with the family that held possession of The Six Eyes. Your parents were proud leaders that had exorcized countless curses and led their fellow shamans to dominate the battlefield.

A terrible encounter would be their doom and leave the [L/n] clan in shambles. Your parents and many other clanspeople fought and lost their lives to the King of Curses. The L/n’s, once vast and powerful, was rendered scarce and vulnerable. Without the support such a big clan provided, your village’s riches run dry and your clan was abandoned by the townspeople. Even when you as the heiress of the Clan pleaded for help to the other great clans in hopes they would honor their alliances held for over decades, they turned their backs on you without a second thought.

What could you, a young woman with feeble grasp of her own inherited technique, hope to do to? In a world where power ruled over all and guaranteed survival, what could you possibly do to prevent your clan from extinction?

How could you ever save the legacy of your dear parents?

It seemed like your uncle, the only closest relative you had alive, had a wonderful idea. "We'll put to use your youth and face”, he had said, “I am sure you can please him, your parents would be proud to see you do anything in your grasp to save our clan. As a young L/n heiress, it is your duty. Bask in pride.”

‘Bask in pride?’ To hell with him, it seemed that he had also forgotten about his sister, your beloved mother, and his brother-in-law. They would never sell you out, as long as you can remember they never pressured you to accept any suitor and they would always express their desire for you to choose out of your own right.

And screw your Uncle’s words, they would rather fight tooth and nail against the whole Jujutsu world than to see you being sent off to the Cursed King himself. Your parents would rather die than issue an alliance with Ryomen Sukuna, the murderer of your clan, through you- their cherished daughter.

However, they had indeed died. They could do nothing to prevent you from your fate and save you from the madness and desperation of your uncle.

‘Mother, Father’, your fingertips instinctively brushed the piece of jewelry that adorned your [Y/n] hair - a colorful hairpin in the shades of [favorite color] passed down to you as a family heirloom - when you closed your eyes, the faces of your deceased parents and fallen clanspeople flashed in your mind.

To hell with your uncle, to hell with the King of Curses.

Too caught up within your mind, you were brought back by a ‘knock-knock’ from the outside wall of the carriage. Your uncle’s voice reached your ears, “We are almost there, [Y/n]. Prepare yourself.”

“Remember, our lives depend on you. Do not do anything stupid.”

You knew well what he meant to say, ‘don’t you dare step out of line’. You can perfectly recall the sting of the palm of his hand on your right cheek when you had first opposed. You were still opposed, you could not hide the truth that reflected in your face. Your uncle was mad, but he was not blind. He was aware of your intentions and the unwavering loyalty you had for your parents and the clan. Their teachings, values and traditions were well rooted within you.

The ascending movements of the carriage came to a stop. Your curiosity willed you towards the window of the carriage. When taking a peak out of it, you noticed a massive, old and strained torii. The color of it had faded and lost itself to time and the wood of it had various cracks that ran through the columns. In spite of it all, it stood tall and its height made you feel even smaller and more insignificant to its grandness.

Past the torii, meters away and framed at the center, was a shrine.

When the lot of you crossed the torii, a massive aura came crushing on you. The tension solidified ten times over, and the air became even thicker than before. Unlike in the forest, there were no cursed spirits yet the cursed energy emanating from the shrine was hundreds of times stronger and fouler.

This was where Ryomen Sukuna lived.

He had to be there, inside.

The gates of the shrine opened on their own as if he were already expecting your arrival. He knew all of you were here the moment you put a foot in that cursed forest. The doors creaked and the ominous scenery lit up.

The shrine was spacious, there were three columns at each side of the hallroom and between the last pair there was his throne.

The veils of the carriage hid you, but you could feel your uncle and his men freeze. You could feel his cursed energy radiating past the carriage walls and veils, directly hitting your skin and making your body tremble. You bit your lower lip and your nails crumbled the fabric even tighter. It would leave permanent creases, if you ever lived past this moment to see them that is.

“Oh, great King of Curses,” your uncle’s voice announced and his body bowed along the remaining clanspeople, “We have come in peace and humbleness with an offer.”

Your uncle could not resist slightly raising his head and taking a mere glance, but once he did, he was quick to redirect his forehead to the ground and sweat began to break all over his body.

At the top of the leading stairs and in a golden throne gilded with skulls sat Ryomen Sukuna, seemingly bored. Even as he sat, his body was huge, and he had two pairs of arms. The lower set held two weapons, a staff and a dagger, which did nothing but aggravate the threat that he was. His top left arm laid on the armrest as his right elbow bent to cushion his cheek. Although his head was tilted to the side and there were no traces of ire or madness right away, his four eyes looked down upon them with disdain. As if he were glancing at a couple of ants.

His eyes were, however, quick to glance at the carriage. Of course he knew what this was about, this was not the first time he was made an ‘offering’. His red irises glanced back to your uncle and the people behind him, oh how he enjoyed the sight of fools bowing to him.

“Bring the carriage forward and back off. I’ll see whatever’s inside for myself”.

His voice was low and thick, Sukuna ordered them around without much more explanation, only with the expectation that they would fill out his command. They were at his mercy, and so, the carriage was carried forward with you in it. Slowly, they lowered it and dropped you on the ground. As they retreated, their forms were still kept bowed and low.

Ryomen Sukuna stood up from his throne, full seven feet or more of stature in display. Strange black markings stretched across his skin. As he descended the stairs, his heavy footfalls thudded the wooden floor, vibrating through the it.

The carriage shook in the ground, you could tell he was enormous and monstrous due to those footfalls of his. With each step, he got closer, and you grew even more nervous.

Sweat began to break from the skin of your forehead, your eyes widened and your pupils constricted, your throat became tight and dry.

‘He’s getting closer, he’s getting closer, he’s-’

The shadow of his silhouette tinted the veils, and suddenly everything around you disappeared. All you could hear and feel was the frantic drumming of your heart in your ears.

You could see in slow motion how his muscled arm came to grab the veil. One by one, his black claws passed through the division of the veils.

‘He will open them any second now.’

Your breathing became ragged and snippets of your life flashed across your eyes. Your parents, your clanspeople, the townspeople, everyone.

You would rather die than betray them.

You prepared yourself and below the sleeves of the damned hanfu, your knuckles turned white.

When Sukuna drew open the curtains, he was met with a pretty sight. It’s not an outstandingly new thing, but a pretty maiden is always a relief to a man’s eyes, even to one such as him.

Dolled up just for him with delicate makeup and luxurious fabrics, a lady with [h/c] hair and [s/c] skin sat on her knees elegantly. Her back was poise and kept, her eyes were closed, displaying long and curled eyelashes.

For a second, Sukuna lost his usual cool composure- he was truly impressed, even though many had come to him in a similar manner.

However, what followed suit was what definitely picked his interest.

The calm and docile demeanor of the lady snapped and her eyes shot open, revealing a pair of fierce [e/c] burning with fury. From the inside of the carriage, she leapt forward to him- to his throat to be precise.

“Oh?” The Cursed King expressed with genuine interest, an eyebrow cocked and all, as he admired your form in the air.

Your hair spread free and wild in the air, like the mane of a lion, and your teeth were bared as a warcry left your red-painted lips. Your left arm was extended and the palm of your hand was wide open, while the other arm’s elbow was bent behind your head. Sukuna was also quick to take notice of the weapon in your hand infused with cursed energy, a familiar one as well, and his eyes widened in further surprise when the cursed energy became so sharp it flashed in red and black.

The corners of Sukuna’s lips picked up, his lips parted in a wicked, toothy grin laced with malice. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could already taste it, the massacre. Your form was getting nearer and nearer by the second, with the naive intent to strike him down.

“I’d rather die than be sold off like a broodmare!”

“You foolish girl, you’ll kill us all!”

The King of Curses held an amused face in contrast to your enraged one, and just when you thought you would be able to pierce and slice open his throat, one of his arms stopped you. Abruptly, and quite ironically, he caught you by your own throat. His hold was strong, immobilizing you completely mid air. Your body halted and trembled, even as you struggled to find air, the object still held your cursed energy and your eyes kept burning with ire.

“Now this is getting fun”, Sukuna giggled as his four eyes scrutinized your form. He found that the way you resisted was pathetically adorable as if he had just caught an insect with the pads of his fingers, one he could squash in less than a second.

“A hairpin infused with cursed energy? Creative, I’ll give you that, but so stupid. You thought you could kill me? With a hairpin? That’s a little insulting to say the least ” His tone was mocking and condensing, his tongue lacing the words with venom. With his hand still choking you, he brought you closer.

He made out the words ‘fuck you’ from your lips, which just made him laugh some more. You raked your fingernails across his arm in agony, trying to tear apart his skin. Such a feisty lady.

The King of Curses made sure to glare at you right in the eyes with false pity as he spoke, “For someone who would rather die, you sure are putting on a pathetic display as you are giving it your all for some air”.

Something about his words resounded deep within you. A truth you wanted to deny yourself in the name of your parents. Everyone died whilst fighting and here you were, the least you could do was join them and honor their dignity!

Your eyesight was getting clouded with dark spots due to the lack of oxygen, but your ears were keen to the following words, “Hmm? You want to live, don’t you?”

Sukuna hummed the words as he was drowning in the details of your bodily expressions as you gasped for a last breath of air. He had taken many lives, some squealed like lowly pigs at the slaughter, others simply gave up, but some put up a fight, or some sort of resistance. Yours was such a case, in which you’d put on a brave facade, acting tough and daring, but deep down you wanted to survive and live on so, so badly.

He could see it in the diminishing fire of your eyes, and how the cinders of fear and regret took over. You were beginning to question yourself, to panic. And Sukuna relished in it, took all in.

“So? What will you---“

Sukuna blinked his eyes and tilted his head downward upon the feeling of someone tugging on his yukata. “Please forgive her, my lord! I am sure she is just nervous, please reconsider it!”, at the level of his feet, the old man that had delivered his sacrifice was clinging to his ankles. His nose was buried in the fabric of his clothes, and Sukuna gagged in disgust.

“Spare her foolishness! I am certain of her capability to–”

“Silence, you fool”.

The voice of the King of Curses dropped decibels lower, lacking any twisted humor and simply on point. His eyes held no emotion but irritation, his face was relaxed but his eyebrows and mouth were lined straight. Sukuna was serious.

His voice boomed through the hallroom, and you heard the way everyone dropped to their knees again. Your uncle hit his forehead on the floor with a loud slap and he shook like a leaf. A leaf to be trampled on.

Sparing you no other glance, Ryomen Sukuna threw you to the side of the room like a mere toy. Your back crashed against the wall and upon impact. Air was knocked out of your lungs once again and you howled silently in pain, unable to produce a sound. Your body coiled in itself as it attempted to reduce the pain, and you coughed furiously.

Your eyes blinked a couple of times, making feeble attempts to open fully- but all you could see was a blurry mist, in which you only figured out the characteristic pink hair and monstrous build of the demon. You noticed your uncle at his feet, without really thinking, you reached out your arm to him and stretched it wide open. It collapsed on its weight. All you could do was watch the tragedy unfold.

Sukuna kicked your uncle in the gut and he rolled back a few steps. He groaned in pain. He had no time to gather himself, for Sukuna kicked him once more. This time, in the ribs.

“You dare barge into my shrine without care, shamelessly bringing up an unsolicited offer. You were an idiot if you thought you would get something out of me. An alliance, or my ‘divine’ protection?” He sneered, “ You are the fool here. At least the girl stood up to fight, coward.”

Your uncle tried to shape words with his lips, tongue and teeth, but all that came up was splotches of blood and saliva.

“Uraume,” the Cursed King called out and from the shadows, a young man made his appearance at Sukuna's side. His odd light-blue locks cascaded down as his head was bowed, and his robes draped over his legs on the floor. His arm crossed over one of his knees, it was evident that he was awaiting orders.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Help me with dealing with this trash. I am fed up with this.”

“As you say, my lord.”

When he raised up his face, a sinister grin decorated his face. He lifted his body off the floor and dusted his clothes, making way towards the poor souls in Sukuna's hall.

“This one's for me to kill, and that girl over there-” the Cursed King pointed at you “- leave her be.”

‘Uraume’ nodded once more and muttered the loyal words. Without further haste, he launched himself to the rest of the people.

You struggled to stay conscious, the dissonance of horror enveloping you, though your senses were waning. The screams of terror, the sickening squelch of flesh and blood, the bone-chilling cracks—these sounds permeated your fading awareness. However, the overwhelming cursed energy in the air compelled you to regain consciousness. As if it kept your body awakened with its sheer presence.

Your tear-blurred vision flickered as you blinked repeatedly, attempting to adjust your eyesight to the scene before you. Regret – instant and churning painfully your heart – flooded your thoughts as you took in the gruesome scenery.

The room was a nightmarish maelstrom of chaos. Blood pooled around lifeless bodies strewn across the floor. Limbs and entrails laid in grotesque disarray. An overpowering metallic stench overtook your sense of smell, assaulting your nostrils with the unmistakable scent of iron.

You longed to turn away, to escape the horrors unfolding before you, but your body remained unable to move itself. You were far too hurt. Wide-eyed and trembling, you observed that many bodies lay headless, including your uncle's.

His severed head stared right at you, a loud but silent testament to the brutality of the carnage. The weight of the guilt sinked deep within you, the cold look on your uncle’s corpse blaming you.

Your shoulders slumped, and despair welled up, but your body lacked the strength even to shed tears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your fingernails dug into your palms, an agonizing reminder of your helplessness.

"God... please," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea in the midst of the macabre scene. The last remnants of your clan, the servants, the soldiers, your own blood—their lives had all been snuffed out.

The once-proud [L/n] clan, now reduced to a memory, stood on the precipice of extinction. You were the sole survivor, a solitary heiress to a lineage of nothingness. The weight of this grim reality pressed upon you, though it felt like mere seconds separated you from joining the departed.

Alone and vulnerable, you embraced grief and awaited death.

"Wasn't that quite refreshing, Uraume?" Sukuna's voice rang out, his presence looming closer.

"It certainly was, my lord," Uraume responded, his words dripping with sadistic amusement.

You remained ensnared in your misery, dry tears long gone, your throat raw from unspoken anguish. As Sukuna drew near, his laughter filled the air. He crouched before you, his posture languid, his gaze filled with a sadistic fascination that thrived in your torment.

“Now, what will I do with you…” A reminder that you were at the mercy of the King of Curses. As he hummed with closed eyes, searching for answer in his evil mind, his clawed-thumb supported his chin as he tilted his head, his other arms resting over his knees. He was unfazed, lacking any remorse or guilt, he was amused. He truly could not care less about what he had done.

“Ah, yes!” he clapped his hands, eyes wide open along with a bright smile. He sought to meet your gaze, but your head hung too low to notice, and without warning, he raised it with his hand. He pinched your chin, puncturing his claws in your (color) skin. Perhaps, it would leave a scar, but that would heal. Unlike your heart, which would certainly have one– a nasty, deep one, for sure. One that would never heal.

Even though he lifted your head, your gaze refused to meet his. Your (e/c) were dull and empty, your eyelids were swollen and you were crestfallen. His red-eyes went to the side. It slightly irked him, he despised the weak and that face you held was the epitome of weakness. Yet, he could put you to greater use.

“Hear me out, girl” Ryomen Sukuna spat. His eyes glinted with malevolent intent, “You haven’t been the only one to come up to my shrine and be offered as a pretty human bride. But I fear there is just no more space in my harem and I have just enough servants… But I am missing a priestess for my shrine, someone to worship me and pray in my name. A human to set as an example for the rest, a shepherd for these pathetic, weak sheep.”

His tone holds mockery and his eyes hold mischievousness, an egotistical and narcissistic abyss that wants to be filled to the brim. He is asking you to strip off any remaining pride and honor, just to serve him.

“So what do you say? Who knows… if you do your job well you might get to live a little bit more…”

The King of Curses looked back to your face, you were bewildered and your features scrunched in disgust. Of course, Sukuna knew you would hesitate, you just need a little pushing around, “And if you don’t accept my kind offer, well, I could just have my fun with you before ripping you apart and ending your miserable life.”

You gulped. The implications of his word, ‘having his fun with you’, it sent shivers down your spine. It could mean anything, and nothing good for certain. You do not wish to die such a horrible death, what choice do you have? Being used by Ryomen Sukuna like a doll would be humiliating and atrocious, but serving him like a priestess would betraying your morals– yet, you’d live.

You would live to see another day.

You grimaced, a silent tear slipping down the corner of your eye, ‘I am sorry, Mother, Father, Uncle… everyone’

“I don’t have all day, girl”

“I accept”

Sukuna’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise as a cheshire grin spread on his face. He chuckled upon your despair, what more could the weak do than take the slightest chance to be spared? If you were stronger, you could have attempted to resist him, but you were not, you were at his mercy.

“Then bow your head to your new god and present yourself”. The sentence came in the format of a command, one so powerful it instantly made your elbows seek the ground and plummeted your forehead below.

“I am [Y/n] [L/n], heir of the [L/n] Clan.”

On the back of your head you felt a sudden pressure being forced, its flat surface made you believe it was one of his feet. “That name…”

The pressure intensified as he sank his foot deeper and rubbed it against your skull, his next words only aggravated the pain “Ah, yes! The [L/N] Clan, yes, I got word I killed two of their most powerful sorcerers, the heads of the clan nonetheless. It made it all the more funny, they were weakling scum. Pathetic really how the remains of their oh so proud clan, barged into my home pleading for mercy and now I have their daughter right at my foot to serve me.” His laugh was loud and boisterous, as if someone had told him the best joke around, his four eyes holding disdain and madness. His laugh continued to echo across the room, before dying down as he inhaled and exhaled, a smaller smile painting his face.

His four eyes looked down at you.

“You are now solely [Y/n], after all, no [L/N] remains… Stand up.” he removed his foot.

He ordered you to stand up and although your knees buckled, you managed. However, you remained your head low, avoiding eye-contact.

“Well, then. You ought to begin, your first task will be to clean up this mess. Leave this place spotless.” He said without a care of the bodies, without acknowledging the value of the lives he had taken. “Uraume, after she finishes give her further instructions, show her how things work around here.”

“As you wish, my lord”. The man with light-blue hair and peculiar robes showed himself again, this time, right by your side but not at the same level, a step in front.

“And [Y/n]- I despise incompetence”. His eyes shot daggers at your form and his voice rid itself of any sarcastic or ‘humorous’ tone, it was a very real threat. You gulped and nodded, bowing your head in an instant, but something about the way he said his words unease you– the gears in your head began shifting rapidly and you were quick to reach the conclusion, for your sake.

“Y-yes, my lord.” You copied this ‘Uraume’ man, and bowed your head further. The King of Curses chuckled.

“Very good, you are a fast learner it seems.”

Without further ado, Ryomen Sukuna walked away along with Uraume, who later came back to toss you cleaning supplies, a bucket of water and a broom and a rag- he disappeared with a twisted smile too, much like his lord.

You stood still there with the broom in your hands as by your feet, the severed head of your uncle kept staring at you. You rolled the sleeves of the ruined hanfu, and began to mop.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #self insert #yandere blog #yandere writing #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader

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brittle-doughie · 1 year

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No Dice (Ancient Cookies)

White Lily WILL throw hands with Clotted

The Ancients were protective of you, incredibly so. Anything that had to do with you will always have their input, and that included your Soul Jam. It wouldn’t be right of them to treat a long time friend of theirs with the upmost friendliness and respect.

So when Clotted Cream Cookie turned to you if you were willing to share your Soul Jam, hope and anticipation in his eyes that your generosity will extend its hands to his and the Republic’s aid, you hesitated with your answer.

To give up your Soul Jam?

Something you swore to protect and keep away from evil?

The thing that makes you who you are?

The very thing that symbolizes the Light that you were bestowed upon?

This slight hesitation was enough to get the other Ancients’ ire as they raised strong objections, how dare this whelp try to take advantage of your giving nature, you give cookies everything and they would just keep taking, taking, TAKING. They understood it was in your nature and they held no lasting ill will towards cookies who asked, but to see you give a complete stranger your Soul Jam…

Something they swore to safeguard with their lives, a precious item that makes a cookie, YOU, truly alive, to see you even contemplate handing it over only brought their hidden rage towards the Consul to greater heights.

Pure Vanilla pleaded with you that there had to be another way you can lend your hand to other cookies, you always do. But please don’t hand over your Soul Jam, it pained him to see you willing to give everything to help, so in your stead, let him give his Soul Jam instead!

Hollyberry got protective, getting between you and Clotted. You had been through too much to just hand it over and Clotted’s attempts to get your sympathy to accept made her grouchy! Your kindness is not a weakness that Clotted could exploit, if he wanted to get to you, he’s got an angry Hollyberry to deal with first!

Dark Cacao is the angriest of them all, he’s fully aware of your giving nature and to see this WHELP trying to take advantage of that and even having the audacity to try and appeal to your soft-heartedness to get your Soul Jam…it made him pissed beyond all belief. He had to hold himself back for your sake, otherwise this Clotted Cream Cookie would be crumbles from where he stood

Golden Cheese Cookie huffed in annoyance, this cookies dared to ask something that high to an ancient cookie like you?! She claims to never act on a whim, but in this case, she couldn’t help herself voicing her stance against Clotted Cream’s proposal. With how she is in comparison to you, she had to step in and protect you from such foul deals like this. She didn’t want to lose you…just like how lost her kingdom, she wouldn’t know what she’d do if you were crumbs and dust in her hands…

White Lily Cookie oh man….if you thought Pure Vanilla’s response is bad, White Lily is worse. As soon as attention was brought to you by Clotted Cream Cookie, White Lily had already rushed to your side, holding your hand tight with hers.

She’ll use any excuse in the book to have you refuse this cookie’s offer, you already give so much and she loves you for your warming benevolence…she simply can’t allow cookies to take advantage of you like this.

Just say the words and she’ll poison Clotted with her lilies. She’ll do it with no hesitation for you.

#cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #dark cacao cookie #white lily cookie #golden cheese cookie #hollyberry cookie #yandere cookie run #yandere cookie run kingdom

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sojuyae · 10 months

Note

i need you to PLEASE expand more on the bsd zombie apocalypse au

more so if its yan 👀

bsd apocalypse au

bsd ada various / reader

notes: mild yandere themes, zombie apocalypse thingies, NOT PROOFREAD sad face and teary-eyed emoji

-> your 'first' encounter with dazai is nothing short of terrible. your dull knife was pressed on his bandage-clad neck when he managed to sneak up on you. it's so easy to mistake dazai as a zombie when he looks so dead. dirty bandages adorning his arms and neck, dried blood sticking to his skin and clothes (not like you were better yourself) — had it not been the absence of rotting flesh and flesh (or the loud whine he had let out when your knife barely pressed on his throat,) you could've killed him.

the man took your hand in his with fervor, his eyes twinkling with cheer that does not suit a man like him. meeting him was terrifying enough, but him to ask you to join his group? utterly horrifying.

he didn't even give you a choice to decline.

if he had to be subjected in multiple earsplitting berations by a certain ideal donning co-detective for you to be accepted, there's no need for you to know. actually, he would let you know. he'd use it against you everytime you don't do something for him — you're complaining about having to go on a supply run in his stead because he's lazy? next thing you know he's letting out a scoff and telling you about the 'traumatic' scoldings of kunikida he had to endure just for you to be welcomed in the team.

-> dazai's words of 'persuasion' — if you could even call it that, rarely works. and you learned it the hard way. you watched timidly on the sidelines as dazai dismisses kunikida's reprimands and barrage of insults with a playful laugh, shrugging off any comments of how bringing any more people in the agency will only mean more mouth to feed and how 'kenji's appetite' is already worth 3 mouths.

despite kunikida's prior disapproval of you being an addition to the group, kunikida instantly — a little too instantly, warms up to you. in fact, when you were begrudgingly let into the team, he was the first to hand you a new and fresh set of clothing.

kunikida’s kindness and compassion warms your heart and it is often that you find yourself in his presence when something is troubling you. always able to lend his ear and provide some insight while he assigns the agenda.

kunikida proves himself as a reliable friend, so much so that you don’t know question how almost every supply run and night watch is spent alongside him.

-> if there was someone you were in favor of in the entirety of the agency aside from kunikida’s amazing diligence, you would’ve been sure yosano takes the crown.

she’s a formidable woman — always so quick to treat any wounded teammates. its almost a miracle how every single one that comes out of the infirmary looks better than ever, not a single sight of bandages and scars that would’ve littered their skin.

she is as quick to hound you in her empty infirmary whenever she manages to strike a deal with kunikida something about not being too ruthless when treating him? you don't know. she bemoans off your ears about how you’re always assigned to do some menial tasks with the others when you could be staying with her instead.

whenever you’re alone with her, you feel more of those large bear plushies you'd see displayed in malls more than anything — you're meant to stay still as she treats your lap as some kind of chair, your shoulder as a bed, and your stomach as some kind of pillow. her butterfly hairpin digging in your skin painfully while she rests her head on your shoulder.

-> when you met ranpo who was sat upon his desk, you thought he was very familiar — not because he was the self proclaimed greatest detective of all time that you kept hearing about before, but because you had a feud with him about this one last sweet remaining in of the aisle during the apocalypse. you won with a cheap trick that he surprisingly fell for; pointing at the air with a, 'look, there's more sweets!' and making a break for it.

by the looks of it, he didn't seem to forget about the incident, and it doesn't seem that he'll be forgiving you anytime soon too, with how sharp his glare is from across the room.

dealing with ranpo is tough. sending you in supply runs like the recent run wasn't just a day ago because he apparently ran out of sweets (then what are those in his desks????) always ordering you to bring him this and that as if he couldn't reach it with a stretch of an arm, even going as far as making you feed him because his hands were busy (they're literally just behind his head.) and skillfully ignoring the looks everyone in the agency gives him.

really, you should've let him have that sweet.

-> whenever you enter a room, your gaze automatically meets atsushi's. he would almost immediately stiffen under your stare and as if he was caught, would continue on his task without much of a word. the same routine would repeat over and over, you step inside a room, both of your eyes lock together, he resumes in what he's doing, looks back to see if you're staring, then he's back on wiping the same spot on window again and again.

your brain came up with the explanation that maybe, atsushi doesn't like your new addition to the agency, that he hates you. rations are limited and you're enough of a burden.

so when you're paired up with him to look for supplies (kunikida was bedridden, and you swear you can hear him weakly croaking about how dazai should go in your stead.) you're eager to prove to atsushi that you're not a burden, that you can help the agency.

it doesn't end well. if anything, you became only more of a burden — you didn't think that there would be a zombie creeping up from behind you. atsushi manages to stop it from going near you with his trusty ability, his claws ripping the undead to shreds; he didn't even stop until you forcibly pulled him from the mush of undead flesh.

an apology was ready on your tongue until he tackles you in a tight hug, his face buried on your neck, muttering words of how you're safe now; you would've been glad that your misunderstanding of him hating you is cleared up — you would've been glad. had it not been the claws that are still drawn and wrapped around your back, the mauled and unrecognizable zombie who's still spasming on the dirty floors, the smell of rotten flesh hanging in the air, and the violence he displayed in front of you.

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hammysando · 4 months

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"Rainstorms come, without you." Malleus Draconia x GN!Reader

AN: Hello, hello again~! It's me, back with another part for my Diasomnia grief series! This time, it's the Fae Prince's turn! Don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this! Maybe even leave a comment for me down below! This can be read as platonic or romantic! <3 Prefect/Reader is Gender Neutral!

Wordcount: 300+ words~

Prompt: How would the Diasomnia boys react to the Prefect's death? (Which they caused inadvertently via a freak overblot on campus, where the Prefect take a fatal blow for them.)

TW: Major character death (Prefect/Yuu), Dealings with depression, grief, and delusion.

Please read at your own risk

Prologue:

“Prefect-! NO-!”

Silence.

Silence descended on the prestigious Night Raven College. The usual squabbling of the students as well as the hustle and bustle had frozen in place, as if time itself was pausing, holding its breath. The funeral was held on a sunny day, a contrast to the occasion. It felt like a blur to the students of Night Raven. Was this reality? The prefect; someone who had survived several overblots, changed their lives for the better, and was an essential part of Night Raven College, was dead? How could this be...?

More below the cut~

Malleus could not accept that the Prefect had died. Their funeral was a blur, obscured ever so slightly by gossamer silk. It was as if Malleus was underwater, unable to hear, or make anything out except for blurbs. Why was Silver crying..? Why did everyone look so… Sad? Surely the Prefect would return. They couldn’t simply die, right? His Child of Man wouldn't leave him without a goodbye… Right?

The dragon fae was in a daze as the seasons changed. Perhaps the grief, or he himself tricked his mind into thinking the Prefect was alive, but Malleus spoke as if they were still there. No one had the heart to rouse him from the waking dream he had convinced himself of. It was a delusion steeped in indigo happiness that Malleus was willingly drowning in.

“The Prefect would love this blend of tea. Perhaps I should stop by later. What do you think, Lilia?” Malleus watched Lilia’s cheery smile falter ever so slightly at the mention of his Child of Man. Why? Did he not think that the Prefect would like the tea?

“... I’m sure they would like it.” Lilia spoke, though it sounded as he was stepping carefully. Why did Lilia look like that? Like he wanted to cry? There was a stab in Malleus’ chest as he regarded his guardian carefully before a smile spread across his features. The smile did not reach his eyes, however.

“Then I shall have you deliver it in my stead, Lilia.” He needed to be alone. The stab had spread steadily throughout his chest, and in a shower of fairy lights, Malleus disappeared.

His room was dark and in slight disarray, though the fae disregarded the untidiness and simply clutched his chest with quivering hands. A pain bloomed between the cavity of his ribcage, raw and visceral. No, what was this pain? Malleus didn’t realize that he had started to cry, the droplets of tears rushing down his face like a rainstorm. Lightning and thunder accompanied the heavy downpour that was unusual for the season.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

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lilia and madame red

OKAY, BUT LIKE.

Does anyone else get vague Madame Red backstory vibes from Lilia in book 7??? 😭 PLEASE SAY IT ISN’T JUST ME, I SWEAR THERE’S PARALLELS HERE

Madame Red (real name: Angelina, which is what I’ll call her going forward in this post) was best friends with her sister, Rachel. Angelina considered Rachel the “sister [she] loved she most”.

Let’s think of this friendship like Lilia and Mallenoa, his princess and Malleus’s mother. He would complain about her callousness and her selfishness, but it’s clear from the way he jokes about her personality that he knows her well and considers her a good friend in spite of the trouble she causes him.

Later on, Angelina and Rachel meet Earl Vincent Phantomhive, and they both fall in love with him. Ultimately though, Rachel is the one that marries him. Angelina was heartbroken and conflicted about the matter, describing it as “the sister I loved the most was going the marry the man I loved the most”. They even have a child together. She was happy for their happiness, but was also always longing for something she could never have.

Now, while we don’t know for sure what the timeline is between Lilia meeting Mallenoa and Lilia meeting Levan/Revan, it’s clear that they all knew one another at some point. Lilia at least knew them both since childhood (which must be hundreds of years). Then his two best friends marry and produce an egg. The conflicted feelings that Angelina experienced only really have a direct parallel if you headcanon that Lilia was in love with either Mallenoa or Revan, but we don’t necessarily need romantic feelings here for the parallel to work. It could be that Lilia feels a little lonely because his friends have less time for him since they have each other and important duties to tend to (plus, let’s remember they also dump some of their tasks onto Lilia). However, I will concede that this point in the timeline is the least mirrored with the story of Angelina; we don’t actually know a lot about Lilia’s feelings concerning his friends’ romance and how that impacted their relationship with Lilia.

Then (I’m skipping over a lot of things that happened in Madame Red’s backstory to get to the relevant parts) her beloved sister and brother-in-law perish in a fiery blaze, and she’s powerless to stop it. All that’s salvaged from the burning building is “the child of the sister she loved most and the man she loved most”.

A similar tragedy could have befallen Lilia and Malleus’s parents, given the current direction of book 7. Levan/Revan goes missing, and Mallenoa is all but guaranteed dead at the hands of the invading human forces led by the Dawn Knight. Where does that leave Lilia once his two best friends are gone? He’s been left behind and forced to pick up the pieces of what little remains of a country ravaged for its resources, burdened with an unborn child to look after in their stead.

I would say the main difference between Angelina and Lilia is how they coped with the aftermath of the horrific events in their life. Angelina becomes angry at the world and envious of those that take what she cannot have for herself for granted. Those feelings manifest in violent murders. Meanwhile, Lilia, the man who has been fighting and killing all this time, becomes wise and accepting of humans, wishing for a time and place where all races can join hands and the children of tomorrow can live in harmony 😭

“It’s the world Mallenoa and Levan would have wanted for their son. The world I would want for my own son. A world of peace, not war.”

#Lilia Vanrouge #Malleus Draconia #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Kuroshitsuji #spoilers #Madame Red #Black Butler #Levan Draconia #Meleanor Draconia

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ecrin-de-litterature · 7 months

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Somewhere in the midst of Fontaine, a small bell glittering in gold chimes above a bookshop door, signalling movement from the door. Inside sits a quintet, each member individually unique in their own way.

“Bienvenue,” one of them greets with a warm smile, a cup of tea and a saucer in her gloved hands, “welcome to Écrin de Littérature.”

“Lynette, you have to at least explain this place to them…” Her twin frowns at the statement, a drastic sigh coming from his lips before that playful smile tugs at his face again.

The small, silver haired lady clears her throat, lowering her own cup of tea from her mouth as her eyes - two opposing shades of blue - rise to you.

“We’re a network for creators - Hoyoverse creators, those who write, draw and edit for their games,” she grins, bold eyelashes fluttering shut as her eyes close with the gesture, “we’re completely safe for work, accepting those aged thirteen and over.”

“Yes, Lady Furina but… what’s in it for them?” The youngest of the triplets chimes softly, his voice barely audible amongst the tunes playing on the gramophone in the background. To his left, the older magician wraps an arm around his shoulders in a loving gesture.

The last one to speak is a bright, blonde woman with hair that tumbles endlessly in refined curls. She beams, friendly and warm as she clasps your hands in her own.

“Well of course, I think we’re a good enough reason - would you not?” She giggles, giving your hands a squeeze. Furina tuts, clicking her tongue.

“Us being friendly is not acceptable on its own, Navia!” The Archon reprimands, shaking her head despite the blonde girl’s bubbliness.

It is Lynette’s turn to clear her throat, a pair of nude coloured ears twitching on her head.

“We can start by introducing that we’re a place that creates a support system for its members; we even have a Discord server in progress to be able to further support our members with their abilities.” Gloved hands meticulously pour herself another steaming hot cup of tea, dark liquid filling her porcelain cup.

“It’s a chance for you to make new friends!” Lyney continues in stead of his twin sister, twirling a rainbow rose in his fingertips - wait, where did that come from? “Freminet here should take the opportunity too!”

The young boy scowls, lowering his freckled face to hide it in the shadows of his hair, grumbling quietly to himself at his older brother’s words. Lyney grins, pushing the rainbow rose into his chest. Freminet takes it reluctantly in his cold fingers, exhaling a deep breath.

“The most important thing is that we’re a place for them to have their creations promoted with individual, unique tags to organise our reblogging,” he states, his eyes falling to you, “that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Navia hums a soft tune, bringing your attention back to her as she continues to stand before you. She gives your hands one more squeeze, reassuring as her eyes twinkle.

“So… what do you say?”

—

It’s official! The Écrin de Littérature is here with welcoming open arms for you, the lovely Traveler to join us! We can’t wait to see the stories that will unfold in our partnership together!

For more on how to join, please see here.

#「 ✦ écrin de littérature ✦ 」#📰 ; mod: focalors

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kimbureh · 10 months

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TBB S2E12 The Outpost, Crosshair & Agency In Suicide

I haven't seen anybody talk about this specific aspect yet, but in truth I avoid reading TBB meta because I haven't finished watching season 2 and don't want to read spoilers.

"The Outpost" is an episode about being trapped in your position, even if you're ready to move on from your role. I've seen it pointed out by others, and indeed it was my first thought also: Mayday talks like Rex. Behaves like Rex. Is capable to adapt to adversary circumstances like Rex. But unlike Rex, Mayday is not given the chance to reform his life. He dies on Barton-4 without fulfilling his true potential. (But Rex has been gifted this chance, while he is acutely aware most clones haven't, and chooses to rectify that as much as he can.) The Outpost of Barton-4 is the epitome of being abandoned and trapped by circumstances. This will be important again in a minute.

Regs symbolize everything Crosshair feels ashamed for. I have talked about this before, but I don't want to pull a Tech and assume that's obvious. So. Crosshair is as grating towards regs as he is (especially in TCW) because of his projected self-hatred. He's a clone too, but at least he is enhanced. "Superior", as he says to Hunter. Showing kindness to Mayday, a reg, is the first step for Crosshair to come to terms with his Clone identity. I interpret Crosshair's arc as one of developing self-acceptance, and treating a reg with kindness is the first step to treating himself with kindness. And it speaks to Crosshair's developing sense of self-acceptance when he pleads (!) with Nolan to please help Mayday (the name here is telling!).

In another meta post of mine I outlined the two possible paths of Crosshair's arc: he either manages to develop self-acceptance and leaves the Empire, or he stays and self-destructs.

In his interactions with Mayday, Crosshair clearly veers into the direction of self-acceptance via Mayday as proxy. But the circumstances don't allow for the second step: leaving the Empire. Think of that tiny backroom in which we meet Mayday and his skeleton crew for the first time. Barton-4 is not a place you leave alive. This place is a frosty tomb, the rows of trooper helmets and the raider left behind in the tunnel are grim witness to that truth. And Crosshair knows this, knows he is trapped in a very real sense on this planet, at the mercy of a cruel superior who sees him as a piece of "used equipment". And so Crosshair picks the other option left to him: self-destruction. He knows he cannot get away with shooting a superior, not when he's weak, without his helmet, trapped on an icy planet with dozens of TK troopers to hold him accountable.

Crosshair's decision is not naive, not entirely hopeless either, it's coming from a place of self-empowerment despite the dreadful desperation. There are a few excruciating moments before Crosshair draws his blaster, moments in which he does the calculations in his mind and realizes there is no way for him to survive this. But he has the freedom to make one last decision: and that is bringing down Nolan with him.

This is Crosshair's tipping point. Through the interactions with Mayday he allowed himself to care for someone again, only for the Empire to immediately take that from him. They took his agency, but in what Crosshair must believe to be his last action, he regains some of his agency and avenges Mayday. In the face of death, Crosshair defends his decision to choose self-acceptance.

A more tragic story could end here; but Crosshair has more homework to do, and it still hasn't been revealed if he really doesn't have his inhibitor chip anymore, or whether he was implanted something else in its stead, and where those searing head pains are really coming from if not from the effects of the (a?) chip. I have a few theories, but we'll see (or maybe we won't).

(pls no season 2 spoilers, I haven't fully watched it yet)

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hanayori89 · 7 days

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Darkness Incoming

*Kakariko Village*

Link awoke to the sound of dishes clattering in the distance. He groaned as he swung his feet off the bed. That's when he realized he was at Renado's.

And that he had spent the night with Y/N.

Link turned to see the bed completely empty. Not even her imprint was nestled into the empty space beside him.

Goddesses, she needs to go to work!

Link stood; his gait was slightly woozy as he made his way to his boots. He was still drunk from the deep spell of sleep. He reckoned his deep slumber was thanks to being snuggled in with Y/N.

Which was by no fault of his own. The true culprit was that horrid nightmare making its nocturnal reappearance. Only this time, when he reached his arms out to dive and catch the mirror, he felt a warm body in his embrace in its stead. Link felt almost as if he were on the precipice of another dimension. The dimension in which his physical body held Y/N, and she was safe. There was no Mirror of Twilight. No crying. No heartbreak. But then there was his mind, which couldn't seem to escape the dimension it was trapped in or the immeasurable warning of what was to come.

But one look at Y/N's face, shrouded in the tranquility of sleep, caused Link to push the warning away. As long as she was in his arms, no harm could come to her. When he awoke, he instantly took notice of her fingers tangled within his bangs. He made no attempt to move them. He was suddenly overtaken by a feeling of weariness. All the running he was doing when he was awake, he couldn't even escape in his slumber. He then fell back asleep, Y/N and he remaining enmeshed in one another.

As Link continued to straighten himself up, he mentally reached out to Goddess Hylia.

Hylia, please help me. I'm so worried about catching her, but I'm the one who has fallen and won't be able to get up. I don't know how this will play out. Above all else, please help me continue to walk a path of nobility. I know these dreams are so much more. But I do not wish to see them come to fruition. Please help me.

Please.

A single tap sounded on the other side of the door. Renado gently pushed it open, peeking inside. When he saw Link awake, he let himself in.

"Good morning, Link. Sleep well? Y/N is finishing a walk with Luda. I packed a light breakfast for you both."

The mention of Luda's name induced Link to come up with an idea. "Renado, thank you for your hospitality. I'm afraid I must ask a favor. I can make it worthwhile. At least for Luda." Link gave Renado a gentle gaze. He walked over to the saddlebag that held Y/N's dress.

"I wanted to take this to the tailor. I know they're not open at this time. If I give you some rupees for the mending as well as for your inconvenience, would you take it for me? I can return to pick it up. Or if you'd like to come to Ordon, I can secure you both lodging at my place. Luda could play with Beth and the others."

Renado took the dress from Link in a careful manner. As if sensing the importance of it. He regarded Link with inquisitive eyes. "This girl means a great deal to you. I can tell."

Link nodded. "I-" He stopped himself once again, changing the trajectory of the conversation. "She is very special. Thank you, Renado. Would 100 rupees suffice?"

Sensing Link's eagerness to change the discussion, Renado followed course."100 rupees is very generous. I will accept this amount, but more so as travel compensation. This will make her smile. Thank you, Link."

Link nodded awkwardly, hearing the deafening sound of Renado's unasked questions within their silence. Thankfully, an eruption of giggling and cackling encircled them both as Luda and Y/N strolled back into the house.

"Link," Renado warned in a low gargle. "I sense darkness approaching. I've felt it the past few days. In the urgency of the rain. In the aggression of the thunder. It speaks to me. I implore you to be careful. Watch the girl, too."

Before Link could inquire further, Luda skipped up to them. "Link, Y/N here is so fascinating. I had a great time with her! She was telling me all about where she is from!"

Link raised an eyebrow in Y/N's direction. She gave him a meek smile in return. The ride into Castle Town was sure to be an uncomfortable one. They did sleep with each other. Well, in each other's arms, that is.

"Where did she tell you she's from?" He asked cautiously.

"She said it's a faraway place past the Gerudo Mesa. She was telling me how they do circuses! She was telling me they have a girl play you." This made her burst into laughter.

"Why is that funny?"

"Well, you do have to admit, if you didn't have your muscles and had longer hair, you would look like a girl. Even Beth thinks so."

"Beth? Does everyone think of me as feminine?" Link glanced around for support but found there was none to be had.

Renado choked back a small cackle before correcting Luda. "I think what the girls mean is that you have an androgynous appearance."

"And draw generous? What's that?" Luda looked up at Renado, confused by his selective term. One that Link suspected he had most likely thought to himself since their meeting.

"It just means Link's look is mutual in a masculine and feminine regard."

"Well," Luda let out a devilish smirk. Anytime a child gifts a devilish smirk, what follows is never a good thing. "Y/N thinks you're very manly. She likes your eyes. And your arms. And that she wants to kiss-"

"Luda, that's enough. They have to be going." Renado curtly cut in.

They exchanged goodbyes with Renado and Luda, readying Epona for the trek to Castle Town in complete silence. Link's anxiety was at an all-time high thanks to Renado's warning. But he didn't share his sense of alarm with Y/N, not wanting to scare her. He just needed to see Zelda, and fast.

It was no longer just time closing in on them. The darkness around them was asphixating.

Link tried to push it away. But the harder he pushed, the clearer he could see that whatever this was ended with that dream.

Had Hylia heard his prayers?

*Castle Town*

Most of the voyage across Hyrule Field was spent with light spurts of chatter. Link wondered if Y/N, too, could sense the imminent foreboding that seemed to surround them. Renado had been right.

It was in the fog that looked like it had been smeared across the sky with a knife.

It was the precious dew drops that coated the grass. They no longer looked like miniature diamonds but whetted tacks.

It was in the gray tufts of clouds that seemed to have the sun pinned against the wall of the sky.

It was even hidden within the crisp chill of air that could lethally permeate through your skin and into your bones.

"Y/N, are you cold?" Link noticed her shiver for the third time against his back.

"No, I am fine." She lied.

"I brought a light blanket in the event of weather like this. You can wear it like a shawl. I can stop so that we can retrieve it from Epona's saddlebag."

"Link, really. I will be ok. I just want to get to work."

Her response came out short. He knew how detrimental a stormy sky could be to the mind, so he shrugged it off.

"We'll be there soon. I promise." Link couldn't fight against the next thing that left his mouth. "You can rest on me. If you wish."

She didn't reject his offer. Her head plopped onto the back of his shoulder blade as her arms reached around his waist, seeking security. He took his idle hand and rested it on top of one of hers.

Together, the melting of their flesh melted away time. They had arrived in Castle Town.

***

There was a line all the way down the street at Telma's. Link couldn't help but gasp in horror at the sight. "Y/N, did Telma mention anything special about today?"

She slowly shook her head, refusing to tear her eyes away from the overwhelming exhibit of customers.

"Goddesses, I hope Telma is ok." Y/N dashed towards the bar, and Link quickly followed behind her, curiosity pulling at every inch of him. He'd never seen Telma's bar look like this before. Once inside, they spotted Telma. Her normally polished plaits were frizzed by the frenzied atmosphere of the bar. Sweat beads cascaded down her neck into the well of her cleavage like a waterfall.

"Telma!" Link called out to her.

"Thank Hylia, you're here! I need all the help I can get!" She held three mugs in one hand and three in the other. She began running all the mugs beneath the draft server of mead. It spilled all down the mugs, splattering all over the floor.

As soon as Y/N called out to Telma, cheers erupted. "THERE SHE IS!"

Telma laid a tray on a table with all the mugs she just filled. Mead sloshed everywhere as she lifted them off the tray. "They're here for you. Word got out about my new employee and her face that could break a 1,000 yr curse."

Link stammered, his heart sinking as it dawned on him. "What..."

"They're here for Y/N. Isn't it great? I've made enough for this month's rent in one day! Of course, yesterday she was off, but I promised my patrons she'd be in today. She's got a following, Link. They adore her!"

The inundation of male flattery tore into Link's heart as he listened to the barrage of comments that came at Y/N from left and right.

"Wow, she is as pretty as Princess Zelda."

"Hylia, look at those e/c eyes! Is she single? Telma needs to hire people more often!"

"She's very sweet too! She has a bit of an accent. She waited on me the other day when it was her first day. I fell in love with her before I even had my four glasses of mead!"

Link could feel something unfamiliar controlling him. Sweat began to erupt all over his flesh as the catcalls and applause continued.

He had heard of jealousy, but he himself had never experienced it, for he was never given a reason to. Besides, wasn't jealousy a low-level emotion for someone who was a hero?

But under the low lights of the bar, Y/N's hand withered beneath the hardened hold he had on her. He was jealous.

As far as Link was concerned, Y/N was his. As she had been in that moment he set eyes on her in Ordon, that moment he caught her. The only time he caught her.

What if someone else catches her? What if she converts and chooses to leave me in the dust?

"Link, I must go put my apron on and help Telma."

Link knew this was a polite way of ushering him to let her hand go.

"No way. I can't leave you both alone to handle this. I will help."

"No! Weren't you going to see Zelda? I'm counting on you, Link!"

A giddy, intoxicated male puckered his lips at her and called from a table. "Hey, Y/N, how's about you bring us a few glasses of milk over here?

"I absolutely am not leaving you here alone!"

"Yes, you are."

A stiff, feminine voice whirled past them both. Link recognized it. He had grown up hearing that voice his whole life.

It was Ilia.

Just like that, the hand he refused to let go of was discarded in revulsion.

Edited: 3/19/23

An unlikely patron has made an appearance at Telma's bar. With Link's barrage of nightmares increasing in frequency and an unexpected visit from Ilia, what does it all mean?

Has Goddess Hylia heard Link's prayers? Or is it too late?

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

#legend of zelda #link #loz #fanfiction #wattpad #link x reader #romance #the legend of zelda #fanfic #fanfic on tumblr #loz twilight princess #twilight princess #twili #legend of zelda twilight princess #loz midna #action adventure #l

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balloonboyismyson · 3 months

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I want to give Sean a nose boop.

He does not like boops, so in its stead, please accept this picture of him bein cute :o)

#Clownie honks #asks #Sean the Snake #MyArt

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tallymonster · 6 months

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Memories of Us Chapter 5

Chapter list: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

So from this point on I'm going to be uploading on a slower speed, probably about twice a week at most just to keep working on it a little bit. Thanks to all the reblogs, likes, comments, everything! Keeping me going here, and it's pretty great ❤️❤️

Thanks as always to my darling @micropoe10 who read this and pushed me to keep going.

Inspired by @cheesy-cryptid 's piece 💜

Chapter 5

"seemed to stop my breath"

The night of the gala had arrived and Octavia was already exhausted from all the preparation. Not even the work she did to set up the gallery was this frantic. It started with an afternoon of trying on at least 15 different dresses, followed by an appointment at a fancy salon Astarion set her up in.

He insisted on paying for it, even though she kept trying to talk him out of it "Octavia, please. I know how much I pay you, just take the gift. Besides you work for me, you represent the museum. You have to look not like how you usually do, it's a party, dear. So be a good girl and trust my personal team."

Her hair is done in a half up, three roses made out of her own hair placed carefully on the back, the rest in curls cascading her exposed shoulders. It takes a while, but when it's done it's perfect. The dress she ends up with flows to the floor, its off shoulder sleeves flutter as she glides downstairs. It's black with flowers embroidered on the edges and up the center.

She's waiting for Gale outside her home, the black cloak she's wearing over her shoulders blows gently in the breeze. She adjusts her hair and fixes her dress. Gale strolls around the corner, he walks up the small set of stairs up to Octavia's door. He's in a black fitted suit, silver embroidery going up the legs of the trousers, lapels, and sleeves of the jacket as well. He holds out a small bag with a small ribbon on it.

"I felt like this gift was an appropriate apology for the whole 'walking in on you sleeping in a mess of documents with our boss' and of course tonight's festivities! I figured this would make your hair even more elegant." Octavia slides the bow off the top of the small bag, she pulls out a velvet box containing a moon shaped hair pin.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know. It was only slightly embarrassing." They smile at each other and she hands Gale the box as she places the pin in between the rosettes in her hair. "Well, what do you think?" she asks. "Impeccable. Simply Exquisite." Gale has a faint blush across his cheeks. He clears his throat and extends an arm out to her.

"Thank you, truly. You and Mr. Ancunin really know how to make me feel appreciated. You two are the best friends I could ever ask for, and I've only known you for about two months. Now I feel like I have to get you some nice pens or something." She chuckles as she links her arm into Gale's as they start their walk to the museum.

He smiles and confides in her, "I also wanted to thank you for accepting my request to attend tonight's event with me. The idea of bringing my mother was tempting," he grimaces slightly "but I'm glad you are here in her stead." Gale lets out a laugh with slight embarrassment. "She and our family tressym loved making remarks while I was trying to get ready, something about having a good time and not coming home without a wife."

They laugh as they cross the road, the museum's entrance aglow with the other guests filing in. Octavia exhales and grips onto Gale's arm a bit tighter. "Don't worry, these things are usually more talking about our work than ourselves, you'll be fine. Besides you have me! I'll be right by your side, unless you don't want me to be. You can tell me to go away any time." He winks at her and she feels the nerves melt away somewhat. She nods and pulls him towards the entrance, "Alright then. Let's do this."

Tag list (thanks to everyone who has asked to be tagged, it's extremely flattering 🥰 if anyone else wants to be tagged let me know!)

@justporo

@satanicspinosaurus

@sleepy-timaeus

@tragedybunny

@davenswitcher

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #my fic #fic tag: headcanon #fic: memories of us #long fic #its almost party time #should i start dropping hints in the tags?#see if anyone reads them ��

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sailortongue · 1 year

Text

The King's Bargain (VIII)

Pairing: King!Ushijima x Princess!Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst

Summary: As a princess, you were always expected to eventually marry royalty, but never did you think that you would be engaged to the very king who declared war on your kingdom.

WC: 3.5k

TW: pregnancy

notes: the long-awaited chapter 8! i know a lot of people dont like the pregnancy trope so apologies to those who don't but i hope it doesnt prevent anyone from continuing to enjoy this story. also if i missed anyone on the taglist please let me know!

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When you woke the next morning, you were surprised to find yourself with an arm wrapped securely around your waist and your back flush against a surface that couldn't be anything but Wakatoshi’s chest. Heat immediately rushed to your face as you recalled the events of last night. You brought a hand up to cover your face and groaned, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Oh, you are awake,” observed Wakatoshi from behind you, his voice still husky with sleep. You felt him raise himself on the arm that wasn’t around you and lean over you to see your face. A soft smile grew on his face, your bashfulness nothing short of adorable in the eyes of the king. The arm that had previously been draped across your waist was lifted to try and pull your hands away from your face. “My wife wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of looking at her beautiful face, would she?”

You slowly uncovered your face and were met with the loving eyes of your new husband. He really was nothing like you’d expected him to be. You couldn’t believe you used to think he was the tyrant the stories made him out to be.

“Good morning,” you greeted.

“Tell me, what do you think about spending a week in the mountains? I am told it is customary for newlyweds to vacation together.”

“It’s called a honeymoon. But you’ve already been away for some time, do you think it’s okay to leave again so soon?”

“Reon is more than capable of leading in my stead.”

“I don’t know…” you said apprehensively. “If you’re really certain that it’s okay, then I would love to go to the mountains with you.” If you hadn’t already been hot in the face, then you definitely were now. You were convinced that the broad smile on his face could bring the angels from the sky. The pure happiness radiating from your husband was enough for you to stop second guessing his decision to leave the palace again. Satisfied with your agreement, he settled back in behind you, once again draping his arm over your waist and pulling you into his chest as he drifted back to sleep, as content as could be with you held in his embrace.

The next time you woke, Wakatoshi was no longer with you. You dressed quickly and went out to look for him, only to be met with Semi standing guard at the bedroom as soon as you opened it, his back to you. Hearing the door open, he turned to you, bowing deeply, and greeted, “Your majesty.”

The new title was still so foreign to you that had he not been bowing directly in front of you you would not have even realized it was you he was addressing.

“Good morning, Sir Semi. Do you know where I might find my husband?”

“He’s in the council room speaking with Tendou, Reon, and the higher ups of the military. I’d be happy to escort you there, if you wish.”

“The military? Is it something serious?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself with, My Queen.”

You frowned slightly at his response. Your husband may have disproved the rumors about his personality, but none could deny that Shiratorizawa was a country forged from bloodshed.

You knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d follow you regardless of where you went, and you’d look foolish if you tried to navigate the massive castle without the aid of someone who was familiar with its halls. With no alternatives, you graciously accepted his offer and, without wasting a second, Semi was leading the way.

Every now and then Semi would have to look behind him to make sure you were still there since you kept getting distracted by the art lining the walls. After countless twists and turns, and several occasions of Semi nearly leaving you behind, he finally stopped in front of a pair of doors. The council room, you presumed. “We’re here, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Sir Semi. Am I permitted to walk in?” You were unsure if it would be acceptable for you to enter, or if you had to knock and wait for admission.

Semi had to suppress a slight grin at your question. You were the queen, afterall. Who could possibly tell you no? It definitely wouldn’t be the king, if the way he looks at you was any indicator. And if not Ushijima, then certainly no one else would be foolish enough to criticize his wife.

You knocked anyway, just to give the room’s occupants notice that someone was walking in. You poked your head in first, and Tendou’s bright hair was the first thing you saw before your eyes inevitably sought out those of Wakatoshi amidst the semi-crowded room. “Do you need something, Yn?” he asked, his full attention on you.

You faltered, truly not having a reason to have gone out of your way to find him. “Um, no, I guess not. Was just curious where you were is all. You were gone before I woke.”

Ushijima’s eyes melted at your innocent admission, and it appeared as if he was going to say something before one of the generals decided that interrupting a conversation between the king and queen was a good idea. “Who do you think you are to interrupt an official military meeting? Know your place, maid.”

“Get out,” came Ushijima’s instant response, his voice cold and steely. “From this moment on you are no longer welcome on palace grounds, and you are to be removed from your post effective immediately.

The now former general blanched, not expecting such harsh treatment for berating what he believed to be a maid. The shock on face became even more comical when Ushijima spoke again, “Before anyone else mistakes my wife for a maid, I’d like to formally introduce Queen Ushijima Yn.”

“Perhaps he could be forgiven?” you asked. Firing a general just for insulting you was flattering, but unnecessary. “Only monarchs and aristocrats attended the wedding. He couldn’t have known what I looked like.”

“Even so, such blatant disrespect will not be tolerated, whether it be towards you or an actual maid. Now, if there is nothing you needed me for, please wait in the dining room. I will be there shortly to have breakfast with you.” He addressed Semi next, “ Semi, please escort Yn to the dining room and have Hayato monitor Mr. Watanabe as he packs his things.”

Recognizing your cue to leave, you curtsied and left. The man who got dismissed was escorted out with you. When the doors were once again firmly shut, the former general shot a glare at you, “This is your fault!” he hissed through gritted teeth, positively seething. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started foaming. Lost in his rage, he raised a hand, only for his wrist to be caught in Semi’s deathgrip. The red drained from the man’s face, anger being replaced by fear. “You don’t learn, do you? You would dare to lay your filthy hands on the queen? A mere insult cost you all but your life, and even that may be in jeopardy now that you made to strike her.”

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, you got a sick joy from watching the man go from intimidating general to shaking chihuahua under the calculating eyes of your knight. Semi had known what the man was going to do and stopped it before you even processed what was happening. Wakatoshi had assigned him to be your protector for a reason.

“If you don't mind, Your Majesty, I’d like to bring Mr. Watanabe to Sir Hayato to be taken care of first.”

You agreed quickly, wanting to see the hateful man being taken away with your own eyes. The entire walk to the West Gate, where Hayato was stationed, Semi maintained a strong hold on the other man’s arm to be sure that he didn’t try to escape or make another attempt to harm you. As Semi was handing Watanabe over to Hayato, he told Hayato of what had transpired both in and out of the council room. Hayato didn’t even bother to hide his shock at the audacity of the former general. “Does King Ushijima know?” he asked.

Semi shook his head, “Not yet. But rest assured, he will before the hour is up.”

With the transfer complete, Semi asked if you were ready to meet Wakatoshi in the dining room, which of course you were more than ready to. When you arrived, Semi held the door for you and followed you in. The room he brought you to was the informal dining room, the one for everyday use rather than the grand one used when entertaining guests. You remembered Tendou telling you that despite Wakatoshi’s exorbitant wealth, he preferred a simpler lifestyle. Unfortunately, that wasn’t entirely possible when you had the title of king on your shoulders and the weight of a crown on your head.

You sat across from Ushijima and he waved a hand to dismiss Semi, wanting a little privacy with his new wife. Semi obliged, but not before telling the king that there was something he should know. This sparked Wakatoshi’s attention, and he told Semi to continue.

“After we left the council, Gen- Mr. Watanabe made to strike the queen. I stopped him before any harm was done, but-”

“I’ve heard enough,” said Wakatoshi curtly. He looked to you, his expression murderous, “Is this true?”

You nodded.

“Find Hayato. Watanabe is no longer permitted to leave. He is to be imprisoned for treason. Go.”

Semi bowed and rushed out to make sure he was able to inform Hayato in time.

Wakatoshi slumped in his chair. He looked so worn out and it was yet early in the day. He sighed before speaking, “There has been word of Karasuno rallying troops, many of them being stationed near the Shiratorizawa-Karasuno border. It’s quite concerning.”

Despite not having much military knowledge, you did know that Shiratorizawa didn’t have many allies, so any kingdom getting too close to the border felt like an attack in the making. He continued, “In the meantime, we’ve decided to instruct our own forces to stay on high alert and have sent word to King Daichi that his troops need to be farther from the border or Karasuno will be regarded as a threat.”

He didn’t miss the uneasy look on your face. Afterall, Seijoh had only recently come to good terms with Karasuno after a long and bitter rivalry between the two kingdoms. “Do not fret, my love. You are safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

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The honeymoon phase was pleasant, and mostly spent in the bedroom, but like all things it had to end. The rising military concerns were increasingly taking more and more of Wakatoshi’s time and your duties as queen were taking more and more of yours. Weeks went by like this, but it wasn’t all bad. You both made it a point to have meals together since your schedules kept you apart for the majority of the day. During those meals, he would update you on the activities of Karasuno and you would tell him about what you had been doing.

Weeks like this went by, until during one lunch he told you that there was a high possibility of Karasuno preparing to attack, as they had been observed to be recruiting more and more soldiers, and King Daichi was importing large amounts of iron from Dateko. The iron could potentially be for infrastructure reasons, but the possibility of it being used to forge weapons could not be dismissed.

You furrowed your brows, and Wakatoshi could practically see the wheels turning in your head. “Don’t worry, Darling. They will be dealt with.” His words did little to soothe your anxieties, but you mustered up a smile anyhow. Though you had only been there for mere months, you had come to love the country. At some point within the first month you decided that it truly was a lovely country, it just had some image problems.

Over the course of the next few weeks, numerous developments were made. The Karasuno troops had retreated from the border and King Daichi claimed that it was a communication error on his part. Supposedly he’d meant to send them elsewhere to squash a small rebellion. In turn, Ushijima instructed his own forces not to engage with Karasuno, but remained unconvinced of the other king’s explanation. The second development was your abdomen, which had taken on the slightest bulge. Frankly, you weren’t sure if it was the lavish meals or the extra time you and Wakatoshi had spent together at the beginning of the marriage. You had yet to bring anything up to Wakatoshi, who hadn't noticed any changes, but Tendou definitely had. He was absolutely positive you and Wakatoshi had an heir, but frankly you were in denial.

You knew from the beginning that children are expected from marriages, especially royal ones. But it was still so early. You and Wakatoshi were finally comfortable as a couple and were still learning each other's little quirks. Throwing a baby in the mix would definitely alter the routine you and Wakatoshi had settled into. How could you have been so foolish? You and Wakatoshi hadn’t even talked about producing an heir yet, so you had no clue how he would react.

According to Tendou, Wakatoshi had long dreamed of having a family of his own. You were still hesitant to say anything, but had promised Tendou that if you didn’t bleed within the month, then you would tell Wakatoshi. Confirming what Tendou had already known, the end of the months came and went and still no blood.

Naturally, as soon as you were working up the nerve to tell your husband the news, his schedule became so hectic that there was simply no time in the day. He was always gone by the time you awoke and, no matter how you tried to stay awake, you were always asleep by the time he retired for the night.

At this rate, he would notice by himself that your stomach was slowly beginning to accommodate the life inside you. Tendou had finally had enough and told Wakatoshi to spare a lunch with you, making up the excuse that neglecting one’s wife is frowned upon and it was Wakatoshi’s duty as a husband to tend to his wife. He even had Goshiki oversee the arrangements himself.

When the day came you were beyond nervous, but it had to be done. Lunch was to be had on a terrace overlooking the garden today, since the weather had significantly warmed with the changing of the seasons. You were already there when Wakatoshi arrived. He apologized for his tardiness and sat across from you.

Before he could say anything, you blurted out, “I need to tell you something!”

He was surprised at your sudden outburst, but nodded for you to continue.

You wrung your hands together in your lap. “I-” you stopped, the words getting stuck in your throat. “I think I-” you tried again. Wakatoshi nodded at you encouragingly, his full attention on you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Wakatoshi’s face lost all emotion. “You think? Or you know?”

Startled at his change in demeanor, you wanted to take it back, say it was a joke, but he knew you had meant it. All you could do was tell the truth. “I know.”

Without another word, he stood from his chair and left you sitting on the terrace alone. You felt your world crumbling around you, tears already blurring your vision. The maids stood awkwardly off to the side, not knowing if it was their place to comfort you or not. Goshiki, however, had no such qualms. He was by your side as soon as Ushijima was out of sight. You practically threw yourself into his arms, sobbing. He ushered you up from your seat and began to guide you to you and Ushijima’s bedroom. As soon as you realized this you stopped in your tracks. “No, not there. I don’t want to be around him right now.” Goshiki looked unsure of your request but fulfilled it anyway and led you to one of the many unused guest rooms.

“Would you like anything, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” you smiled at him sadly, “you’ve already helped me enough. Thank you. I would like to be alone for now.”

Goshiki nodded and left the room quietly. You spent the rest of the crying into a pillow, refusing to come out for dinner. Of course, walls have ears and the maids love to gossip, so it didn’t take long for word to reach Ushijima that you had been holed up in one of the spare rooms since lunch. He figured you just needed time and made no attempt to reconcile with you. Not that he was aware there was any reconciling to do. He just assumed pregnancy hormones. But he wasn’t going to allow you to just skip dinner. So he had Semi bring you a tray of food and instructed him that it was of the utmost importance that you were not to go anywhere alone and should be monitored at all times.

Semi sighed, wanting to criticize the king’s behavior, but feared losing his job. He did as ordered and brought you your food, knocking on the door softly. “Who is it?” you asked, voice raspy and weak from all the crying.

“It’s Semi, Your Majesty. I brought your dinner. May I come in?”

You granted him permission and he wheeled the cart in, the tray on top laden with more food than you could possibly finish.

One look at you and Semi could see that you were in bad shape. Your eyes were red and puffy and there were dried tear tracts on your face; in other words, you looked absolutely miserable.

He pitied you, he didn’t want to, but he did, and you could see it in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to hide it forever. He would have found out eventually. It’s better that he heard it from you rather than wondering why his wife didn't talk to him about it.”

You knew he meant well, but there was no combination of words he could string together to console you. Not wishing to talk more, you dismissed Semi to wallow in your own self-pity. You nibbled the food at best, your appetite not having returned since the cold response you'd gotten from Ushijima earlier. It was supposed to be good news, not the wedge that drove you apart.

Leaving your dinner mostly untouched, you fell into a fitful sleep. The next morning, you woke to the sounds of two maids conversing in your room as they prepared your dress for the day. “I heard King Ushijima is going to send her away,” giggled one of them conspiratorially. Clearly, they believed you to still be sound asleep. Oh how wrong they were. “I know! Can you believe she told him she’s pregnant? It’s probably not even his. As if someone like King Ushijima would bed a girl like that, princess or not. Besides, if he sends her away, maybe I’ll finally have my chance at royalty” said the other one smugly.

“If it’s not the king’s then whose do you think it could be?” asked Maid #1, not truly expecting an answer. Afterall, the walls weren't exactly soundproof. That alone was enough for her to know the baby was indeed the king’s and that this arrogant new maid didn’t stand a chance with him.

“My money is on Sir Semi.”

Maid #1 gasped. “Don’t say such things!” she scolded.

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be surprised if the brat comes out looking like a certain knight.”

When they finally “woke” you, you acted as if you hadn’t heard anything, but inside you were absolutely seething. Deciding to ignore the hurt you still felt from yesterday, you had every intention of telling him how those maids had spoken about you and him. Except, you didn’t get the chance. You had barely sat down when Ushijima spoke first, “I think it would be best if you left the palace for a while.”

Your jaw dropped, disbelief and denial coursing through your veins. Wakatoshi continued, “You will be staying in the family manor in the Miyagi Mountains. A carriage is already being prepared.”

“Toshi, I-” he held a hand up, stopping you from protesting.

“The decision has already been made. You will leave this afternoon. Now, please excuse me, I have urgent matters that require my attention.” Once again, he left you just sitting there by yourself, hurt and angry. From the corner of your eyes you saw Maid #2 failing to suppress a smug smirk.

Next ->

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king's bargain taglist: @chixkadee @wilby0-0 @animeworshipper5112 @clairethereader @ushisrever @feiwelinchen @coldlamaspersonspy @uwukris @ushiwaka-11 @ihavewhiplashbecauseofnct @spinalhoney @ebiharachan @cinnamonlattae @buttercupp-baby @sabrinakishi @hannas16 @tuhros @indaybella99 @pan-cakez @kiyoomimybeloved @daichisno1girl @lordmypantsaresocool @castor0il

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#ushijima x reader #ushijima x yn #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #ushijima wakatoshi

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sebastianswallows · 1 year

Note

these kinda go hand in hand for the emoji asks so 👀🤲

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please! 🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? → Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😂 Oh boy, erm... I got a request for breeding kink with Seb? 👉👈 And I may be going a little overboard with it? Been working on it for two days, this is day 3.

Basically, it's kind of inspired by the myth of Pandora, or rather an interpretation of it.

The existing version is that Pandora's box released demons and evil and diseases into the world, and all that was left in it when it was closed were the good things.

But another interpretation I've read recently is that, perhaps, originally, Pandora's box was the source of all things (hence the name, Pan dora = all gifts). So that means good and bad and war and peace and illness and healing all originated from it. And in that way, it served as a metaphor for the womb, which creates all of humanity with all of humanity's potential for good and bad.

And from all that, I came up with the idea that Seb found this magical box that gave you whatever you need, kind of like the Room of Requirement that you could carry around lol. But you needed a special key to open it, and that key was... proof of love 👀 Cum, the key to opening it is girl cum and boy cum.

That's it, that's the fic. I'm halfway done at 5k words and I want to pull my hair out. It is smut from start to finish. And to make it more ✨fun✨, it's noncon, and my goodness do I hope the anon who sent the request won't mind, because it's comin' 😅

Anyway, thank you for your questions, nonny! 💕

And here's the hastily written and not proofread snippet. Below the cut, because NSFW:

He looked at her intensely, breathless, watching every frown and tensing of her face while his finger eased itself past her hole. He pressed in almost shyly, then retreated, then pressed in deeper, making her moan. Her hips twitched beneath him, trying to buck him off. To soothe her, he flicked her clit a little harder, distracting her with pleasure from the pain of piercing her.

“Shhh… shhh… there there,” he gentled with a whisper. “I just want to feel what you’re like inside…”

His thumb eased on her clit and he removed it, leaning closer instead to touch it with his tongue. She yelped and her hips jumped, but he held her down firmly while working his finger deeper, deeper, a little bit deeper inside with each thrust. Slowly, Sebastian curled his tongue beneath her hub, just letting it rest there as his lips slowly closed around it.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, her back arching, head thrashing left and right, her hands twisting senselessly into the rope. “Sebastian, it’s too… too much…”

He hummed as he suckled on her clit, sucking the taste of her flesh off of her. Her little pearl warmed up on his receiving flesh. Beneath, he removed his index finger and moved it instead to part one of her folds, now so much more swollen and throbbing, and placed in its stead his thicker middle finger in her hole. Rubbing back and forth gently, he opened her up a little wider, groaning at how her soft channel hugged him from every side. Her wetness dripped out of her around his knuckles, coating her upper thighs. She clenched when he shoved the digit all the way inside, her whimpers drowned out by Sebastian’s hungry moan when he felt the end of her on the tip of his finger.

“Stop it!” she hissed through clenching teeth.

Her legs struggled and moved until he caught one of them in his hand and held her by the knee close to his neck, folding her open while he ate at her, licking and sucking and teasing her with kisses from her clit to her hole where his finger teased her open. He parted from her with a suckling pull at her folds, then began kissing her inner thigh while he thrust his finger faster and faster, preparing her for what he was about to do.

“Why is it so difficult for you to accept being loved?” asked Sebastian, looking tiredly into her eyes, his lips against her skin, breath fanning over her most sensitive place that burned and leaked with her pleasure. It didn’t even sound like a tease, it sounded as if he was… sad for her, and genuinely curious to know the answer. “You’re not afraid of me,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly, “not really… You’re afraid of being vulnerable. With me...”

#sswallow;answers #sebastian sallow #hl #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut

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anonymousewrites · 6 months

Text

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Twenty-One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: One Hell of an Identity

Summary: The battle converges into a single room with humans, demons, and reapers pitted against each other and the reanimated horde.

“Back off!” shouted Edward, monitoring the boarding of the lifeboats. “Women and children first! Just look at the sight of you! How can you call yourselves English gentlemen?!”

“Edward!” cried Elizabeth upon seeing him.

“Lizzie!” He embraced her as she ran to him. “I’m so happy to see you well!” He glanced at the sword at her side. “It must have been hard for you.”

“Forgive me,” said Ciel. “It was entirely due to my helplessness.”

“You said it,” huffed Edward. “But fine, my lecture can wait. Now you two get on a boat, quick as you can—”

“Edward, I have a favor to ask of you,” said Ciel. He gestured to Snake. “Put him on the boat in my stead.” Snake and Ciel’s eyes widened. “I can’t get onto a boat yet.”

“…Alright. I’ll take care of him,” said Edward.

Elizabeth moved forward urgently. “If Ciel is to stay, I shall stay t—!”

Sebastian gently struck the back of her neck, and she collapsed, unconscious, into Edward’s arms. “I beg your pardon, sir,” said Sebastian.

“Butler!” exclaimed Edward.

“It appeared that convincing Lady Elizabeth would take some time, so I resorted to a rough measure,” said Sebastian. “Please mete out whatever punishment you see fit at a later time.”

“No, you have my thanks,” said Sebastian. “It’s possible for me to attack my sister from behind.”

“My Lord, the ship’s listing is worsening,” said (Y/N) to Ciel, keeping their balance as easily as a cat.

Ciel nodded and looked to Edward. “Its foundering is but a matter of time. Please leave the ship and get as far away from it as you can. And take care of Lizzie and Snake. Let’s go, Sebastian, (Y/N).”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Sebastian.

“Yes, sir,” said (Y/N).

“You don’t need to come back, you know!” shouted Edward. “I’m perfectly fine with not having to give away my adorable little sister’s hand!” Beneath the harsh words, however, there was something of concern as if Edward was challenging Ciel to come back, even if just for Lizzie.

“I shall return, I assure you,” said Ciel, accepting the challenge.

And then they were heading once more into the belly of the beast, braving the halls of the ship as walking corpses, flooding, and listing threatened their wellbeing.

Near the First Class hall, however, they came upon someone else who wasn’t trying to escape. (Y/N) cocked their head in surprise.

“The Viscount of Druitt?” said Ciel in surprise.

“And who are you?” said Druitt. “How do you know who I am?”

(Y/N), Ciel, and Sebastian deadpanned. (Y/N) glanced down at themself. They hadn’t even really made a disguise during the Aurora Society’s meeting, and they looked the same. So either blood on the skirt really changes an appearance or he’s just a self-obsessed idiot. (Y/N)’s money was on the second option.

“Well, I suppose it is indeed difficult to not know of me as I’m celebrated in society circles for being the personification of beauty,” sighed Druitt dramatically.

It’s definitely the second option.

“With all due respect, what are you doing in a place like this Viscount?” said Sebastian. “The walking dead are ambling through this vessel as we speak.”

Druitt smirked and gestured behind him. Four people carrying a large device turned around the corner behind him. “There’s something here that I dare not leave on this sinking ship, even if it means exposing myself to mortal danger. To begin with, those corpses amount to nothing more than useless dolls to me—Oh, dear.” He smiled. “I’m nattered on for too long. If you’ll excuse me.”

(Y/N), Sebastian, and Ciel exchanged looks. They knew what they had to do for his trust.

“The eternal flame in this breast,” said Sebastian.

Druitt perked up and turned to them. “Cannot be quenched by anyone! We are—”

“Phoenix!” All four spoke and posed together.

“Ah!” said Druitt happily. “So you were comrades! Speaking of, I do get the feeling we’ve met before.”

At least he hasn’t started the poetry session, thought (Y/N).

“That contraption! Can it perhaps stop the movements of those corpses?” asked Ciel quickly.

“Where did you learn that?” said Druitt somberly.

“I knew it,” said Ciel. “Then you’re—.”

Druitt turned before Ciel could continue. “If you wish to know, follow me. I shall allow you to bear witness as well. To the advent of a new aurora by way of medicine, that is.”

“Shall we take it by force?” murmured Sebastian as the followed Druitt and the device.

“No, we don’t know how to use it,” said Ciel.

“We have to wait until he activates it, then,” said (Y/N).

A familiar giggle filled the room. One of the men holding the device turned and grinned at the group.

“What the—Undertaker?!” Ciel fought to keep his voice down, but Druitt was too busy daydreaming about his own greatness to notice him. “What are you doing here?!”

“Hiiiya!” said Undertaker. “I was told to help carry this as I was in the middle of running for my life, you seeeee. Then I caught sight of the Earl hollering ‘phoenix’ once more, and—”

“Wipe that from your memory at once!” shouted Ciel in embarrassment. He lowered his voice and whispered, “But more importantly, do you have a clue as to how to work this thing?”

Undertaker grinned. “Can’t say that I do? I wonder if something like this serves any useful purpose at all, you know?”

(Y/N) cocked their head, and their nose twitched. What type of a statement was that?

The group arrived in the lounge, and Druitt had the device placed on landing of the staircase at the head of the room.

“Be very cautious with it. It is worth more than your lives,” said Druitt.

“Will you start it up now?” said Ciel.

“Not yet,” said Druitt. “Our cast is still one player short.”

“One player?” said (Y/N), raising an eyebrow.

“Ah!”

Everyone turned to the terrace seating above. Stoker stood beside Ronald and Grell and glared down. “You rat!” shouted Stoker. “Why did you steal the device?!”

“Hello there, Rian. I’ve been waiting for you,” said Druitt. “This day shall mark the fall of your empire in one night, as Pompeii once fell, and the day my new empire was born! With the power of this device, I shall build a new empire!”

“Come again?” said Sebastian, Ciel, and (Y/N) incredulously.

“He who possesses eternity shall rule with immorality and decadent beauty!” Druitt extended a hand to (Y/N). “All the beauties in the world shall serve me so I may only stare into the face of divinity equal to mine! Yes! All beauty shall be mine!”

An irk mark appeared on (Y/N)’s forehead. “He’s crass and insane. May I kill him?”

“No, though I understand the urge,” said Sebastian.

“And it shall be called the Aurora Empire!” declared Druitt.

“This all seems to have gone kinda pear-shaped, huh?” said Ronald in confusion.

Grell’s chainsaw revved to life, and she put a foot on the banister of the balcony. “I’ll make that cad the reddest of reds in the blink of an eye!”

“Easy now!” said Druitt. He tilted his wine glass over the device. “Don’t you care what happens to this machine?”

“Hey, Miss Sutcliff, time out!” Ronald grabbed Grell around the middle before she could do anything rash.

“This is what is called ‘true power!’ I can stand victorious against you all with nothing more than a single wine glass!” Druitt laughed proudly.

“This sense of irritation just grows and grows,” said Sebastian. “May I kill him, Young Master?”

“No, not yet,” said Ciel. “Though I understand the urge.”

Crash!

All the windows and doors of the First Class Lounge shattered as hundreds, possibly thousands, of reanimated corpses jostled to enter and get at the people within.

“Hey! Just look at these numbers!” said Ronald, pulling back.

“Viscount, start the device! Hurry!” cried Ciel.

“Non! I am no longer a Viscount!” declared Druitt melodramatically.

“…Eh?” Everyone blinked.

“ ‘Kaiser!’ I shall start the device if you call me that! You, with the mouth like a robin’s, and you, with the smooth voice of a raven! Call me ‘Kaiser’ and I shall start the device!” said Druitt, winking.

“Let’s kill him now, after all,” said Ciel.

“Please wait, though I understand the urge,” said (Y/N).

The corpses lunged, and battle began. Sebastian dodged and fought while keeping Ciel in his arms, and (Y/N) kept any from getting too close to them. Stoker cowered behind Ronald and Grell as the reapers slashed and sliced.

Druitt…daydreamed. And monologued. “Ooh! Ooh! Gladiators, who put their flesh and blood on the line, whose lives scatter like so many fallen petals! This place is just like a corrupt coliseum! Gazing out as I sip my wine, I truly am just like Emperor Nero!”

As someone who has fought in a coliseum, they are all corrupt, and Nero was overthrown, thought (Y/N).

“Can we kill him now?!” said Ronald in frustration.

“Let me get this straight, you just stopped me, didn’t you?!” Grell huffed and glared at Druitt. “Hey, you! Get a move on and start that thing up, would you?!”

“Very well. The time for the founding of my empire is upon us at last.” Druitt raised his wine glass. “Now, then. All of you! Show me the dance of the phoenix in pledging your allegiance to your Kaiser!”

“Never mind, let’s kill him,” said (Y/N), Sebastian, Ciel, Grell, and Ronald.

Undertaker giggled from the side of the landing. “Dear, dear. But if he’s dead, you’ll never figure out what that mystery contraption can do.”

“What is it?! Come on now!” declared Druitt.

Every person in the hall swallowed their pride and resigned themselves to humiliation.

“The eternal flame in this breast cannot be quenched by anyone…We are the new phoenix!”

They posed in Druitt’s variation, even more ridiculous than the first.

“Well played, comrades!” said Druitt in satisfaction. “Now I shall show you the army of death that bows before me!” He pressed a button on the side of the device.

…Nothing.

Everyone turned blank as they watched the device do…nothing.

The growl of the horde of reanimated humans broke through the silence. Ciel, Sebastian, and (Y/N) turned to the approaching group warily, and Ronald and Grell lifted their Death Scythes again. Undertaker rolled around on the ground and laughed hysterically while Druitt stared at the device in confusion.

“What are you playing at?!” shouted Ciel, glaring at Druitt.

“Why, Rian!” exclaimed Druitt. “The device you crafted is useless!”

“I-It can’t be!” cried Stoker.

“Weren’t you the one who made this thing?!” demanded Ciel.

Druitt blinked innocently. “There’s obviously no way I could build a contraption liket his.” Undertaker’s laughter grew louder again.

“You bastard! Did you deceive me?!” demanded Stoker.

(Y/N) glanced up at him as they smashed another skull. Who was he talking to?

“Hah! What a farce this is!” Grell vaulted over the balcony. She tore through a group of reanimated corpses.

“Yeah, he really is something else—!” Ronald’s eyes went wide in panic. “Hey, wait, Miss Sutcliffe, ma’am!” Grell lunged for Druitt, her chainsaw whirring to life. “We reapers shouldn’t be goin’ ‘round killing humans, remember?!”

Grell slammed her Death Scythe down on Druitt’s head.

Clang!

The Death Scythe hit an obstacle and stopped. Everyone’s eyes widened in shock. That was impossible. A Death Scythe could cut through anything.

Undertaker raised his head from where he held his cloak up, obscuring whatever he had that blocked Grell’s Death Scythe. “Hee, hee!” He grinned as he watched Druitt faint. “It’s been ages since I laughed this hard. In my humble opinion, losing such an amusing chap would amount to a loss to this world.” His grin turned to a smirk. “Wouldn’t you agree with me, hm? My little Grim Reapers?”

“The blade of my Scythe won’t cut through…?!” said Grell.

Undertaker whirled, pushing Grell into the air and revealing he had a collection of sotoba in his cloak. His top hat fell from his head, and a chain of lockets flew around his neck. He grinned. Undertaker threw his arms out and sent several sotoba into Grell as she fell through the air. The reaper was propelled backwards through the glass ceiling of the lounge. Shards fell like rain through the room.

“Young Master!” said Sebastian, covering Ciel. On the same base instinct, he reached for (Y/N) and pulled them to his side, though both demons were cut as it fell.

“Ahh…” Undertaker sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “How said it is—" He pushed his bangs back. “—that laughter should vanish from this place.” He peered out at the group with sharp, green and yellow fluorescent eyes.

“Undertaker?” said Ciel as he looked up over Sebastian’s shoulder.

“He masked his presence most skillfully,” said Sebastian. “His eyes have always been hidden as well, so it escaped me notice.” He narrowed his eyes.

“And he kept himself around death to mask that part of his energy,” said (Y/N), nose twitching in furstration. “It was masterfully done.”

“Same here.” Grell pushed herself to her feet and adjusted her spectacles. “He fooled me good.”

“Miss Sutcliffe, ma’am! Those eyes!” Ronald’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” said Grell. “That chartreuse phosphorescence, without a doubt, can only belong to…a Grim Reaper!”

Taglist:

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@anxious-chick

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@v1l-ismissing

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@oceansfloor

@neuvilleteismybby

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justherefornothing1 · 4 months

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@mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @mizmothree !!! Slimecicle, JuanaFlippa, AND Elmariana for the New Year!!! Hope you enjoy :)

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Charlie rolled his eyes and looked behind him at Mariana, who was trying to level him with a glare. “Well, I was planning on it, bitch.” He bit into the word, trying to get a reaction out of Mariana. Of course, it did, with the other man scrunching up his face into a scowl and giving Charlie the finger. Charlie, satisfied, slammed Mariana’s door as hard as he could. Separated by a wall, he sighed.

“Well. 3 weeks.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets before walking through the alleys connecting Mariana’s apartment complex to Main Street. He began to mumble to himself. “That has got to be a record. I don’t think he’s ever contained his nagging for so long before.” Charlie kicked a concrete pebble, watching it clank against a metal garbage can. “I mean, why do I even keep trying? I know that it can’t last. I know that. Instead, we’re like that fucking Taylor Swift-no wait I think it was Kate Perry-song.” Charlie turned onto the street, joining the scattered people walking under a darkened sky. “Maybe this should be it. Maybe I should just forget his fucking face. Maybe I actually block his number this time. Maybe-” The sky suddenly thundered, cutting off Charlie’s self-pity session. He looked up, managing to mumble out an “Oh shit” before the sky poured down rain.

The small crowd around him suddenly got smaller as people scurried into stores. Charlie himself really wanted to crawl into a store and order something hot, but reasoned that his house was only a short walk away. So he flipped up his jacket collar and walked faster down the street. Between the breakup and the rain, it wasn’t shaping up to be a good day.

Charlie decided to short cut through a back alley to his apartment, nearly tripping on his shoelaces while turning the corner. He caught himself on the brick wall, steading himself with his hand. “Thank god”, he muttered. “I really didn’t want to eat it in a puddle.” Saying that, he righted himself, stretched out his right foot to start walking again, and felt something furry on his foot before tripping over it.

He crashed into the pavement, shoulder first. He yelped and skidded a bit before crashing into a garbage can, which unluckily was full with trash. It dumped its contents on Charlie, then clanged onto the pavement with no ceremony.

He groaned, rolled over onto his back, cringing at the way whatever was beneath him squished and squelched. “Fuck, man, my bones...” He pushed himself upright to his elbows and looked around. “Alright, who did this?” he shouted at the empty alley. “This isn’t funny. I sorta like this jacket!” He scanned the small area, and saw a small worm- no wait, a tail?- behind some different garbage cans. Charlie got back on his feet and crept towards the…thing. It didn’t move, so he kept creeping, creeping…

WHAM! He grabbed onto the thing and immediately felt something sharp dig into his skin. He sucked in his breath, but didn’t let go as he brought the trickster up to eye level. It was…

“Oh. My. God.” Currently nipping at his hand was a cat, with ears that were too big for its head. It twitched and swung unceremoniously, only stopping to meow indignantly.

Charlie’s frown grew into a small smile and he chuckled. “A cat. I got tripped up by a cat.” The cat tilted its head sideways, and trilled in a tone that Charlie imagined meant Can you please put me down?

“Ok you rascal. I’ll put you down.” He gently placed the cat down on the ground. It chirped thankfully and began to rub against Charlie’s leg. His smile grew even wider. “So you’re sorry? Is that what you’re saying?” He leaned down to scratch the cat behind the ears, which elicited purring from the small creature. “Well, I accept your apology. But you’re not getting away unscathed.” He studied the cat as it continued to lean into his hand. Its fur was light brown, but appeared to have bits of darker colors speckled within. However, it was extremely matted and filthy. Suddenly, he got an idea. Charlie turned to face the cat. “You don’t like baths, do you?”

—•—•—≽^•⩊•^≼—•—•—•

Charlie found out 3 things about bathing a cat that day.

You’re supposed to brush the mats out of the fur before bathing.

Human shampoo is NOT the same as cat shampoo.

It’s a good idea to cut their nails ahead of time.

Number one was found out after looking up “how to give a cat a bath” into Google and scanning through the first article he found. According to some doctor of veterinary medicine, mats would only hinder the effects of the bath, so it was best to comb them out beforehand. He managed to improvise a specialized comb with a small metal one he found stashed in the back of his bathroom cabinet. Thankfully, the mats weren’t anything major, and Flippo (as he was now calling the cat) actually seemed to enjoy the experience.

Number two was in the same article as number one. Apparently some shampoos would harm cats more than they would help, and Charlie did not want to hurt this newfound friend of his (did the cat consider him a friend though? He had no clue). But outside it was still pouring, and Charlie did not want to go out in the rain, in his dirty jacket, to buy cat shampoo. “Well, my friend, you’ll just have a bath without shampoo. Shouldn’t be that bad,” he proclaimed. Frontflipo (just Flippo wasn’t working out) chirped in response.

Number three wasn’t mentioned in any article or video that Charlie watched. In fact, he didn’t realize it until he was putting a band-aid on the 9th scratch. He turned to look at the cat. “JuanFlippo, you really have it out for me, don’t you?” he asked the cat.

JuanFlippo (Frontflipo was already a mildly famous stunt act somewhere in Oklahoma, Charlie learned.) meowed in a low tone. You’re the one who thought giving a bath to a cat, who hates water, was a good idea.

“Yeah, but at least you’re clean now,” Charlie retorted.

And it was true. Despite the lack of soap, JuanFlippo was significantly cleaner. Currently he was in the process of grooming the rest of his coat, which turned out to be more beige than Charlie expected. All in all, a win for the cat.

Not so much for Charlie.

“Now I’m gonna go get clean. And if you wreck my apartment, I’ll…I don’t know. Throw you out the window. Or something. Just don’t do anything.” Charlie turned to go shower away the banana split in his hair, and sincerely hoped that JuanFlippo was well-behaved.

Surprisingly, he was. But he was also (as Charlie so kindly put it) “a spiteful little shit”.

“Really?” Charlie was once again holding JuanFlippo, but in a sort of “air jail”. “You behave yourself for a full 30 minutes, not moving a paw, but the minute I step out of my shower you decide to tip over my mother’s heirloom vase.” He frowned at the cat. “You better thank your lucky stars that I thought it was ugly.” JuanFlippo chirped happily and contorted his face into something Charlie suspected was a smirk. “Very funny, you little fucker,” he replied.

•—•—•—≽^•⩊•^≼—•—•—•

That night, Charlie went to bed with a cat on his chest. It was a bit weird, but comforting. Sorta like the time Mariana laid his head on Charlie’s chest when they were watching TV, and they were close and warm and Charlie didn’t want to get up and he had “I love you” on the tip of his tongue and-

Oh god. He was thinking about him again.

Charlie covered his face with his pillow. Try to forget, he told himself. You need to forget.

Forget his name, forget his face, forget his favorite color and which shows he likes. Forget his address! It’s not like you pass by there often. It’s out of the way, hidden, secret, easily forgettable. Forget the way he laughs when you tell a funny joke. Forget the way he looks at you when you try speaking Spanish but you fuck up the pronunciation. Forget. Forget. Forget.

He let out a groan. This wasn’t working.

JuanFlippo woke up and stretched himself before slipping his nose under Charlie’s pillow. He found Charlie’s chin and gave it a lick before chirping softly. Are you ok, Charlie?

“Y’know what, goober? I’m not alright.” Charlie sat up gently, letting the cat settle down on his lap before he began to scratch behind the ears. “I keep thinking about my boyfriend. Well, he’s sorta my boyfriend. We have a weird on-again off-again relationship. Like that one song? ‘You’re hot then you’re cold, you’re yes then you’re no, you’re in-‘” JuanFlippo suddenly meowed. Charlie cut off his singing and stared at the cat. “Was it really that bad?”

JuanFlippo simply stared. I’ll forgive you if you keep scratching.

Charlie sighed before beginning to pet the cat again. “But you get the idea. We can’t go for more than a few weeks before we get in a big fight, and I say something stupid, and then we curse a bit and I slam the door in his face. Wait a minute.” Charlie looked at JuanFlippo. “I’m the problem, aren’t I?”

JuanFlippo did a bit of an eye roll. Isn’t it obvious?

“No JuanFlippo, it was not obvious before. It took talking to you to figure it out.” Charlie paused again. “And that’s the other issue, isn’t it? I don’t talk to Mariana about this shit. I talk with a cat who’s only here for the head scratches.” JuanFlippo purred in response, and Charlie leaned back to lay his head down. “I need to fix this. Figure out how to mend a broken relationship. Because despite everything I try, I can’t forget him. I-” He paused. “Dare I say I love him?” JuanFlippo trilled and rubbed his cheek against Charlie’s stomach. “Oh, I like you too goober,” he chuckled. “And I would appreciate your help in the morning. I’ve got a plan.”

•—•—•—≽^•⩊•^≼—•—•—•

At precisely 11:26 am, Charlie rapt his knuckles on Mariana’s front door. No one answered. At 11:28 am, Charlie tried again. The bag he was carrying meowed. “Shh. Be quiet,” he whispered. At 11:29 am, he knocked again, and a few seconds later he got a text on his phone.

Elmariana: go away pendejo

Elmariana: i’m crying

Me: Give Me Five Minutes. Por Favor?

At 11:31 am the door opened. Mariana was in a bathrobe, holding a cup of black coffee in the hand that wasn’t on the door. His eyes were red, and he looked like he hadn’t slept since the breakup. “What, Charlie?” he said, sounding almost on the verge of tears.

Charlie took a deep breath in, and out. “I recognize that I’ve made you upset multiple times in the past over some issues. I am sorry, lo siento, that I did those things and didn’t apologize for them later on. I thought that I was in the right, but in reality you were right most of the time, and you were the one working on fixing it. And I didn’t realize it, so every time we got back together I took it for granted. I’m really sorry, and I’m going to work on fixing it. I swear.”

Mariana stared at him. Charlie stared back. Mariana exhaled. Charlie exhaled. Mariana spoke. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why? Why-” Mariana motioned wildly with the hand not holding his coffee. “Why…why now?” Charlie pursed his lips, then reached into his bag and pulled out JuanFlippo. Mariana gasped and put his coffee down on a side table. Charlie handed the cat over to him. JuanFlippo immediately began to rub against the fluffy part of Mariana’s bathrobe. Mariana smiled and began to stroke his back. “Hola gato. ¿Cómo se llama?” JuanFlippo chirped and looked over at Charlie. Yeah, what’s my name?

Charlie cleared his throat and said, “It’s JuanFlippo.”

Mariana looked up and chuckled. “I think it’s-uh, how do you say?” He fumbles with the word for a bit, until Charlie figures it out.

“Female.”

“Yes, that,” Mariana replied, and held JuanFlippo belly-out to prove it.

Oh. Oh shit.

“Well, uh, I guess it’s JuanaFlippa now.” Charlie smiled sheepishly. Mariana threw his head back and laughed. It made Charlie’s heart pound against his chest, but he chose to ignore it in favor of continuing his mission.

“Anyways, I found JuanFl- JuanaFlippa, and by talking to him, no, her, I realized that I was the one in the wrong.” Charlie looks directly at Mariana. “And I also realized that if this thing,” he gestured between him and Mariana, “is going to work out, I need to learn to communicate with you.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a book with a bold black title. It reads, How To Communicate Effectively With Your Parrot (And Other Living Things) by G. T. W. Ska. “I found this book at the library. Apparently the author’s well-known for transforming the way people communicate and think. So I was hoping it would help.”

“Is there- uh- in Spanish?” Mariana asked as he pointed towards the book.

“There should be,” Charlie replied. “According to the back cover it’s been translated into 15 languages.”

Mariana smiled, gently dropped JuanaFlippa in Charlie’s bag, then took Charlie’s hand and started dragging him in the general direction of the library. “Then we go now,” he stated, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Charlie let out a laugh. “What about your clothes?” Mariana suddenly stopped, and Charlie ran straight into him. Mariana caught him by the upper arms, stabilizing both of them. He looked down at himself, then back at Charlie, and smiled. “I forgot. Lo siento.”

They ran back to the house. Mariana grabbed his remaining coffee, chugged it, then slammed the door behind him (consequently, in Charlie’s face). Charlie managed to make out a “¡cinco minutos!” from behind the door.

JuanaFlippa poked her head out of the bag and chirped. “Yeah, he’s always like this,” Charlie chuckled and gave JuanaFlippa a pat. She trilled in response. Lovely. Another crazy man to deal with.

Mariana jumped out of the house again, this time suitably dressed. He once again grabbed Charlie’s hand and started running. He let out a whoop of joy. “¡Vamos, mi amor!” Mariana cried. Charlie giggled before yelling back, “I love you!” Mariana looked back with a smile, and oh that smile could kill Charlie. He loved it. He loved Mariana. He loved JuanaFlippa. He loved, and loved, and- oh no-

Charlie’s foot got caught in a crack in the pavement, and he fell onto his face. Mariana let out a cry. JuanaFlippa leapt out of the bag and started nosing for Charlie’s face.

Charlie let out a groan. “Fuck man, my bones…” Mariana reached out with his hand to help him up. Charlie took it gratefully. “Are you okay?” Mariana said before cupping Charlie’s face in his hands and looking it over. Charlie waved him off. “I’m fine. I just…fell head over heels I guess!” Mariana gave a chuckle before planting a small kiss on Charlie’s forehead. “Don’t forget JuanaFlippa,” he said, motioning to the cat. JuanaFlippa meowed as she was placed back into the bag. Charlie grabbed Mariana’s hand, and together the dynamic trio walked towards the future.

Together.

#if you’re reading this hello sorry if this is too troupe-y or formatted weird #in my defense I wrote 95% of this on my phone #and btw. this is 2607 words. why? idk just happened that way.#anyways happy new year eat your grapes or peas or whatever #Slimecicle #el mariana #misclick duo #juanaflippa #misclick family #justhereforwriting

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Copper Beeches pt 2

I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation.

Holmes is worried. He really does seem to always worry about women in potentially abusive situations. This is also why the werid Enola Holmes law suit was weird, btw. The argument for that was that Holmes wasn't depicted as caring about women until the later works, which were not out of copyright, yet this was published in 1892. He's literally referencing a theoretical sister here in a way that clearly shows he would be a concerned brother.

"Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow," it said. "Do come! I am at my wit's end. HUNTER.

I love the tone of this telegram. It's got that 'please' at the beginning, to be polite, but then at the end it's less 'I'm scared' and more exasperation.

"That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the morning."

Alas, the acetones will have to wait. Holmes is both willing to postpone his chemistry, but also concerned that he will need to be his best.

By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital.

Such a weird little historical note there. London's been the capital city of England since... Idk... around the Normal conquest in 1066? I don't know if there's an exact date. Most people these days wouldn't even know that Winchester used to be an important city, but Watson's just slipping that in there.

Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.

Another lovely description of the scenery and the weather. Everything's so nice. What a lovely day to prevent a crime. And Holmes taking time to look at the scenery.

"You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."

Holmes is super optimistic. This entire speech about the country is why Midsomer Murders exists. Lolol. Look at the idyllic countryside, just full of crime and violence.

"But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law."

I feel like that's a little rude of you. I'm pretty sure that even in the countryside people know that murder and theft are illegal.

"I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them."

I want to know what these seven explanations are. I really do.

"In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual ill-treatment from Mr and Mrs Rucastle."

I feel like this is more luck than anything else. The man is very creepy. We have not yet met the wife, but if she is anything like her husbad described her, she too is very creepy.

"I have gathered that they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother."

The fact that she's a stepmother doesn't fill me with confidence in this matter. Still not sure Alice isn't buried under the floorboards. Not to malign stepparents, but in stories like this, they're often the bad guys.

"Mrs Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want and forestalling it if possible."

This is the most insulting description of a person. She's just nothingness personified. Although this in itself is unsettling. The fact that her husband seems to have such a big personality and she just fades into the background and tries to pre-empt his needs. Eeeh... I'm getting weird vibes. Maybe she's just a naturally retiring and quiet person. But it feels more like a woman who is scared of upsetting her husband. We once again have only the husband's reported word that Alice left because of her.

And sometimes she's just found crying?

Yeeeah. I'm not into this. Nope. Not good.

More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects.

Ah, our earlier suspicions about the child are accurate, it seems. This is a serial killer in the making. If this were a modern story he would have killed his older sister by pushing her down the stairs and his parents would be covering it up.

I don't know where the creepy servants come in. Maybe they just don't like the Rucastles because they're serial killers?

"'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.'"

Creeeeepy creepy creepy creepy. Just skin-crawlingly creepy. Don't comment on her appearance, dickhead. This is just a whole pile of weird.

"The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige"

I've looked up beige but I still don't really understand what this means, because yes it did used to refer to a fabric, but the fabric was specifically undyed wool. This fabric is definitely dyed, so... Is it a woollen dress?

"...then Mr Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary."

So he wants her to dress up pretty and listen to his stand-up routine?

"They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my handkerchief."

I'm always so happy when the people who come to Holmes do their own detective work. Like Mr Melas in the last story, getting the information out of poor Paul under the villains' noses. Miss Hunter here is not just accepting what's going on, she's trying to actively decipher it. Alas, her subterfuge is discovered and she is turned into an active participant in whatever game the Rucastles are playing on the man in the street outside.

Interesting that Mrs Rucastle is the one who takes the initiative here. Clearly she's not as silent a partner in this as she appears.

"'It's only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.'"

Ah good. Animal cruelty and oblique threats to her life. That's what we like to see. 'We essentially starve our dog to make sure he's aggressive' is such a dick move. I can see where little Edward gets his animal cruelty from. A chip off the old block, that one.

This family is just so messed up.

Holmes has connections with loads of people, he must know someone who needs a governess and isn't a complete nightmare of a person.

"The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of hair."

Yep, that's Alice's hair. I don't think I remember Alice being buried under the floorboards, but I honestly wouldn't put it past these people.

"There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked."

Oooooh. Alice is locked in the secret wing of the house. How very Bluebeard.

I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the door.

The mind does automatically go to 'body', doesn't it? I don't think it is a body, but that is what I thought immediately on reading this.

Violet Hunter does pretty much all the leg work in this story. She works out that there's someone behind her, she discovers the forbidden rooms, she sneaks into them. She gets so close to discovering the truth and then...

I turned and ran—ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr Rucastle, who was waiting outside.

Well... this isn't going to end well.

"'My dear young lady! my dear young lady!'—you cannot think how caressing and soothing his manner was—'and what has frightened you, my dear young lady?' "But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was keenly on my guard against him."

Glad to see that she's finally seeing through him and has the sense not to tell him what she saw. Although she probably shouldn't have left the door open.

"'Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again'—here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon—'I'll throw you to the mastiff.'"

Ah, there it is, a direct threat to her life. His illusions of civility are peeled back and he's no longer just creepy, but actively horrible.

I do like Violet Hunter, she's such an active participant in events. She doesn't just present a puzzle and then let Holmes tell her what's up, she sniffs around and tries to work out what's going on. And what's going on is a whole lot of bad news.

I'm not sure why Alice is locked in the forbidden wing of the house, but that really doesn't matter. I didn't think she was in Philadelphia. It might be a story a little similar to Miss Sutherland's. She has an inheritance and if she marries, her father and stepmother will no longer have access to it, so locked in her rooms she must be and a doppelganger brought out to pretend that Alice is still happy and healthy.

A whole house full of horrible people. And that poor dog.

I wonder what happened to Alice's mother.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Copper Beeches #long post

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