#( visage ; i feel like myself right now )

[gmabrams]

@brinacarpcnter

sabrina & gracie

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Shaken and Stirred.

I was really inspired by this fan art and was plagued by thoughts of a pathetic whiny lil meow meow 🥺 I don't drink myself, but I love the mature aesthetic of it and wanted to... write a drunken confession... to close off 2024...

… DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT OTL wait no please J WORD I CAN EXPLAIN

***Content warning: Alcohol consumption, though Leona is the only one drinking. (The legal age is 20 in Japan; I’m going to assume this for Twisted Wonderland.) Everyone else is having sparkling juice :v***

Imagine this…

"Feel like joining us for dinner? For old time's sake.”

The invitation had come so casually, the same way a housecat might drop a mangled rat or bird at your feet. To them, an easy, everyday act. To you, a surprise you weren’t quite certain how to feel about.

You didn't have plans for the evening, nor a reason to refuse, and while you were busy weighing the pros and cons, you found yourself strung along in their outing. Muscular arms wrangling you into the herd, boisterous yells welcoming you back. An honorary member, the Savanaclaw students had branded you, recognized by their king.

Now you sit in a barstool, fingers on the rim of a cup clouded with condensation, absentmindedly swirling its contents. Juice, its sweetness stifled by melted ice.

Some would call you a lamb willingly waltzing into a lion's den. They're wrong. You are no beast, but a curious observer of them. This is a prime opportunity for that.

It’s dim, the glowing jellyfish set low, faint lights swimming overhead. The music is loud, a departure from the Mostro Lounge’s usual soft jazz. The bass is even louder, rattling your bones like a set of steel drums. Rowdy patrons clink cups, chant at their friends to chug, belt out laughter straight from the bellies. You can barely hear your own heartbeat. The sounds of nightlife drown it out.

Jack lurks in a quiet, shadowed corner, his back against the wall. Muscled arms folded, he has assumed a stern stance but wears a small, fond smile in spite of himself. Ruggie has climbed onto a table, raising a jet-black card to the waiting mob. It’s their golden meal ticket.

“All-you-can-eat food and drinks on Leona-san! Long live the king!!” he roars, and the others echo his excitement.

“LONG LIVE THE KING!!”

You chuckle to yourself. First he rents out the entire lounge, then he decides to feed everyone for the day? How generous of him. Guess the big guy’s going all out.

You scan the restaurant in search of him, seeking out his familiar visage. Long, wild tresses. Sharp eyes, emerald flecked with golden flakes, like the sunlight shining through verdant leaves. The scar that speared his left side. A noble aura, his lazy feline grace.

Leona Kingscholar always sticks out in a crowd, commands too much attention with his mere existence. “That man is only good for his face,” Vil would bitterly hawk, “his only redeeming feature.” And he was right, to some extent. Tall, dark, and handsome are all apt descriptors for Savanaclaw’s dorm leader. Leona is all that and more.

Your pulse quickens.

His shape—you can’t discern it from the myriad of bodies collected in the lounge. A puzzle piece missing from the box of your most treasured memories.

“Looking for someone?”

The question is low and nonchalant, almost musical in its own right, yet you can so clearly hear it rising above the bumping bass. Your blood hums in anticipation, already knowing who the voice belongs to.

Leona has slipped into the open seat beside you, nursing an Old-Fashioned filled halfway with a strongly scented amber liquid. An orb of ice chills it, so clear cut you can see through to the other side. He sits with an effortless confidence upon his throne, as though he—not Azul—owns the damn place. You'd believe it too, from how the patrons are shouting his name like a mantra.

There’s no greetings to exchange. No need to.

"I think I've found what I was looking for," you tell him teasingly. “Nice of you to throw this little get-together. What’s the occasion? Don’t think I remember when you were in this good of a mood.”

“Who said I was in a good mood?” he grumbles, leaning onto the counter. “Didn't feel like being left alone with my thoughts tonight is all.”

“You, brooding? Never."

He makes a sound as if repressing a dry laugh. “You think yourself clever for an herbivore, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Not as clever as you, though.”

“Hmph. You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego."

It’s comfortable, this trading of quips. Safe. The conversation flowing so easily, like wine poured. It is the only true way you can stand on the same level as him.

Leona lifts the glass and downs the rest of his drink. From the way he winces, it must burn on the way down. You wrinkle your nose at the sharp smell that meets it. Earth spiced with hypnotic smoke and the acrid pang of sorrow.

“They serve alcohol here? I thought those jars on the shelves were full of tea blends.”

Leona scoffs. “If you know the right people and the right strings to pull. The cephalopunk said his establishment was more than happy to provide for me as long as I shelled out and signed some liability waiver.”

“… Does the headmaster know about this?”

“He doesn’t need to know.” Leona smirks, placing his newly drained drink down. Immediately, a staff member appears and replaces it with a fresh glass. “What’s he gonna do, anyway? Sue me? I’m of legal drinking age, and ‘s not like I’m passing out alcohol to minors”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so bad.”

“The worst,” he agrees sarcastically. “And you choose to keep me as company.”

“I’m but your humble accomplice, sir.” You jokingly salute to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Rough day?”

He sighs in a way that gives the impression of saying, Like you wouldn't believe. But that tail of his swings back and forth like a patient pendulum, refusing to reveal his secrets. “This isn’t about me.”

“It literally is.” You pass a not-so-subtle glance at his second helping of whisky.

"I'm the host. It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with my feelings, now would it?"

You don't miss how he proceeds to take a swig right after his claim, how readily he consumes poison, even when it hurts him. Alcohol, insults. Pain, self-inflicted.

He has an arsenal of tricks and techniques to deflect—partaking in vices, one of them. Leona's magic rendered fortresses to sand, but he is an expert at building his own structures just the same. Studier, even. Imperious.

Attempting to scale the walls directly, you know, won't get you very far. Not when he has gone to such great lengths to guard his heart. There's a moat with leering crocodiles, barbed wire decorating the gates, a drawbridge firmly closed.

You attempt to breach the subject, toeing the line between testing his patience and challenging it. “What is it that you want then, Leona?”

He falls quiet, staring at the remains of his beverage. It’s like the sphere of ice the whisky swims with is a crystal ball, and he’s peering into it, seeking answers. His verdant eyes shift a shade deeper, darker.

When he’s solemnly silent like this, he’s contemplating. His next move in a game of chess, his next words in a debate. Plotting, scheming.

"A distraction," he declares at last, in that resolute tone he uses when he’s set on capturing a prize.

"A... distraction."

He nods, angling his head toward the noisy lounge. Ruggie is rallying some of the guys for a round of root beer pong. Jack’s trapped in a headlock, the hyena urging him to join in. They’re rowdy and ruddy from the exhilaration that comes with competition.

“Get my mind off of things. Take me away from all of this for a spell."

“How, exactly…?”

Leona drains his second glass. The server slides him a third. "Let's start with your day. From there, ramble about whatever.”

Amuse me, he seems to say, even if his mouth doesn’t. The twinkle has returned to his eyes, brightening them like the stars do the milky way.

You gulp, feeling compelled to obey.

Gathering your thoughts and wetting your lips, you begin. "This morning..."

The story opens like a newborn finding its footing for the first time: clumsily. Granted the space to expand, you do. Slowly, the conventions come to you. Balance, coordination. Each sentence is like a step, taken one at a time.

You run through your daily schedule and, reciting it out loud, you realize how terribly mundane it is. Classes, chores, chums. The usual. Worry flickers through you—Will he be satisfied with this?—but he only gestures for you to continue.

“Ah, so I picked up this new hobby recently…”

Leona props his face up on one hand, curled fingers resting against a cheek. He watches you with a look that isn’t quite predator on prey but isn’t quite human to human either. It’s intimate in a way that makes you feel exposed even when you avert your gaze, calculating enough to make you feel like a complex equation he has yet to solve.

“When something’s hard to get, it makes you want it all the more,” he had once told you. The memory surfaces like bubbles in a flute of champagne. Then it pops, fizzling away in a fine mist, and it is gone.

Moments like this are magic, you think.

You slip into a cadence, a rhythm. You lose count of how many stories you tell, how many whiskies Leona slams down in the span of them.

And still, the glowing green of his irises never seems to stray far from you. Vibrant and pulsating, like plants with heartbeats of their own, swaying in time with a stray breeze. Seeking something.

You don’t know if that concerns or thrills you.

"Ahahah…” You allow yourself a chuckle as you stretch in your seat. “This is so strange, isn’t it? I never thought I'd be rubbing elbows with a prince this time last year.”

Leona responds with a noncommittal “Mmmmm.”

He lowers his gaze to his drink number who knows?, his honey-colored reflection gazing back. When he blinks, his lashes seem to fall and flutter in slow motion.

You wonder what he's thinking, why he's thinking.

You reach for him. Carefully, gently, as if approaching a wounded animal. He is wounded--in that frightening way that leaves no visible marks, no scars.

"Leona..."

You hear your name being called before you can tap his shoulder. You look--there's Jack, waving at you. Ruggie has his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Wanna participate in an arm-wrestling contest? Jack's the reigning champ!"

"Oh, um--" you try to respond, to explain that you're preoccupied. The blaring music washes you out.

Ruggie makes a face of confusion and shouts again: "What?!"

You start to rise from your stool and turn to him, raising your volume. "I said..."

You stop. Your wrist is ensnared in Leona's grasp, cuffing you to the spot.

“… Don’t go." His command cuts through the noise, startling you with its softness, its contrasting clarity.

"It'll only be a second. It's too hard to talk over the--"

"You must've not heard me the firs'time," he interrupts, his words slightly slurring together, one melting into the next. Leona pouts like a child. "I’m orderin' you to stay. Stay here, with me."

"You've been awfully bossy today."

"Cuz you keep bein' a pain in my tail. How'm I supposed to..." The more the man babbles, the more confidence drains from his voice. His proud lion's roar shrinking and shrinking to a kitten's mewl. Tiny, vulnerable. "Don't go. Don't... leave. Everyone else has. They always do."

Non-sarcastic pleading? From Leona?

You eye him in concern. "Being serious for a sec, are you okay?"

He winces, like speaking or touching you is a considerable effort. You're set free, his body slumping as he lays down at the bar. His mane spreads out around him like a pool of chocolate. Leona cradles himself against the cushion of an arm, groaning into it.

Definitely not okay.

You pass Ruggie a firm shake of the head--a no to his offer--then settle back into your seat, returning to Leona.

"I'm here," you reassure him with a soft push against the middle of his chest. "See? I'm not going anywhere." Then you poke him on his forehead. "What's up? You're thinking of something."

He peers at you from behind an arm and snorts. "Thinkin' about how you run your mouth a lot."

"You told me to. I'm just following orders--don't you like that? You're so hard to please."

"I have high standards," he says simply.

"Well..." You lift a brow expectantly. "Am I meeting them?"

This manages to draw out a bark of laughter from him, however strained it sounds. He fixates on you, the start of a scowl upon his searching expression.

Assessing you.

“… Why?” Leona asks suddenly. No proper answer. Instead, an inquiry thrown back in retaliation.

“Why what?”

“Why d’you bother stickin’ around? Why d’you…” A pause, as if the verb that comes next is capable of killing if not handled correctly. “Why do you care so much?”

You shrug. “You don’t really need a reason to care about someone. Anyone with a heart would, right? You’d do the same for me or any of your dorm members.”

“And what do you know about heart?” He fumbles for his drink, but you slyly slide it out of reach. A growl of frustration. “All I got’s a big black hole where my heart should be.”

“That’s not true,” you protest stubbornly. “Your students say so many good things about their dorm leader. They all really look up to you.”

“Hah, as if.” He lifts his head and slams it on the table. “I failed’m. What good’s a king if he can’t produce results? What good’s tryin’ if all there is at the end of the tunnel’s darkness? Can’t even dispatch the damn lizard or beat ‘m at his own game…

You frown. “Hey. hey! Don’t talk about yourself like that… and stop doing that, you’re going to injure yourself.”

Leona doesn’t seem to register anything you say. He continues deliriously mumbling to himself, the alcohol having wiped away his inhibitions and all the cards he so often kept close to his chest.

“I never get what I want,” he complains, dragging himself up—but he sways and is forced to hunch forward on his chair, elbows on the counter for support. “Never, ever. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I work… It all comes crumbling down eventually.”

His hair covers his face the same way the strands of a weeping willow do. You can’t see what kind of an expression is making. Do you want to see it?

He’s sinking, you realize. The same claws that struggle for a firm grip on the rocky ledge he dangles from, the same claws that render enemies to ashes—they don’t help him against crashing waves, the swamp that drags him down, down, down, into its murky depths. No sunlight, no air.

“The crown… the interdorm tournament... love, respect, admiration... Everything slips through m’fingers like sand. It’s some cruel, sick joke. Must be m’fate as the prince with naught.”

“Leona..."

Is this what haunts you every time you're alone in your room? The thoughts that you're scared of visiting you every night... What you needed a distraction from?

“Get my mind off of things," he had said. "Take me away from all of this for a spell."

There's an ache in your chest. The dull, throbbing pain that comes at the end of reading a sad story. His story.

But it's not the end of it, right? It can't be.

Your fingers tangle in his tresses and brush them aside. From behind the curtain, he peers at you like some stray cat having retreated into its cardboard box. And you meet him without hesitation.

"... Hey," you manage. "I think you've had enough. You're starting to say all this... unkind stuff about yourself, and you're not having fun anymore. Can you walk? Let's get you back to Savanaclaw and have you lie down."

Leona sways slightly. Even drunk, his tone is haughty and shreds into you like claws. "You can't tell me what t'do."

"You're the host," you insist with a smile. The words are his, borrowed, sharpened, and repurposed in your possession. "It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with your feelings, now would it?"

He stares at you, eyes blown wide. Then his lids lower, lashes shading his view of you.

"Why... Why d'you hafta be like thish? This would be sho much easier if y'didn’t look at me like that."

"L-Like what?"

Leona inches closer. He usually smells of sun and soil, but all of that has been smothered by the reek of booze. Heat radiates from his face, flushed from liquid courage, and hits yours.

"Like there's still a chance for me." He speaks clearly and concisely, each syllable a brick laid out and sandwiched with mortar to the next. Pouring all his energy into them. "Like you still believe in me."

"Because I do. Is that so wrong?" You're unsure of the answer--a part of you, dreading it.

Leona counters with another question. It is tinged with anger, irritation. "Why can’t you be like the others and just give up already? It'd save you a lot of trouble."

"I can't bring myself to leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. We all want a hand sometimes to lift us up when we're down, so... I want to be that for you. And it seems like you could use that hand to get you out of your troubles right about now."

His lip trembles. Leona's voice comes out huskily. "I hate that dumb, wide-eyed look of yours. So full of hope. When you look at me like that… it makes me think I might still be able to have you.”

“You already have me, dummy. I’m right here, remember?”

“No.” His gaze is intense, almost pulsating. He has a way of scrutinizing that lays you bare before him, pinning you in place and making you inadvertently squirm. “Not in the way I want you t'be.”

Your heart stops, as if he has seized it in his grasp. One squeeze, and he can crush it. It's a mercy he doesn't, even as you erupt into a flurry of confusion, an inferno engulfing you.

"What?" you whisper, scarcely believing your ears. "Wh-What do you mean by that...?"

THUNK!

His balance caves. Leona keels over, the weight of his large body toppling onto yours like a domino crashing into the next one in a sequence.

His head lands on your shoulder, neatly nestling into the junction of your collarbone and neck. Arms loosely snake around your hips, hugging them, his tail wrapping around a leg like a ribbon decorating a pillar. A throaty groan escapes him.

Panic bolts through your muscle and bone.

Your immediate instinct is to shove him off—but he’s heavy and inebriated, and it’s hard for you to fend off the warmth pressed against you. He’s not playing fair. Is he doing this on purpose? You shouldn’t be surprised; he never does.

His low purr tickles you, his breath feathering across your bare skin. He sounds half asleep, caught in that magical twilight realm between the waking world and dreams. “Is it okay… for someone like me to fall in love with someone like you?”

Love?

Four letters, one simple word.

Your surroundings dullen, the chatter and the laughter and the music floating far away. You become acutely aware of all of the places where he touches you, of every spot where you connect. There are so many people gathered in the lounge, but all you can perceive is him: Leona, Leona Kingscholar.

Your mind races, set to a frantic pace like wildebeests rampaging.

Love, the thing with wings that soars high above the clouds. Love, the golden light that brings life to the lands. Love, the wellspring so many drink from.

He feels all of that for you?

It feels like I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming?

"D-Do you really mean that, Leona?" You need to know. You must confirm it. "That you... love me?"

Silence.

“L-Leona…?” you stutter, lightly tapping his back. It rises and falls, rises and falls, like the tides lapping the seashore. Soft, at ease.

But not a response.

One, two, three.

Three seconds. Three seconds is all it takes for Leona Kingscholar to knock out--and he is out like a light.

The party and its twisted beat carry on, the bass blasting in your bloodstream, uncaring. And you remain, cradling a snoozing cat in your arms.

... Ah, seriously. How did it turn out like this?

Upset, annoyance--you think that these are, perhaps, what you're meant to be feeling in the moment. They are missing, not so much as a phantom present. Instead, there's an excitable fluttering that doesn't have a name to it yet.

You swallow, still slightly shaken. The confession, raw and revealing, stirring emotions you didn't think possible before. Emotions that burned red hot, with serrated teeth and talons.

A hand goes to the back of his head, stroking his mane and smoothing it out. It's comforting to him, you imagine, but it's comforting to you as well. Grounding.

You're here. He's here. The both of you are here, together.

There is it again, that unnamed, excitable fluttering kicking up back up. It fans out from your core, from your head to the tips of your toes. You feel like you're lighter than air, flying to the moon and playing among the stars.

He loves you.

Leona Kingscholar loves you.

The fingers trapped in his hair stiffen.

You draw out a sigh. It mingles with the music and stretches thin, a string of fabric pulled from a spool.

Until the clock strikes midnight… Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. That much would be okay, wouldn’t it? We can figure out the rest of the story once the sleepy prince wakes from his slumber.

[hxney-lemcn]

Old Gods — deity! Vil Schoenheit x gn! reader

summery: a mortal has stumbled upon an abandoned shrine, only to find that the God of beauty and love still resides.

tw: power dynamic? I mean he's literally a God so no matter what I think there's gonna be an unbalanced power dynamic. Otherwise this is just fluff lol. religious themes as well but that was a given.

a/n: inspired from @ceruleancattail and their deity au! I had to do one on Vil because I love him sm <3

wc: 1.1k

Master List

Vil could do nothing but watch as less and less people trickled into his shrine. When the last few had switched to the newer deity he could feel his anger simmer, growing hotter and hotter with each praise of the beloved Neige. That anger festered over the years as the new deity soaked up the attention. Vil’s shrine had started to crumble, vines taking over the now ancient temple. He had no idea what people saw in Neige. The good for nothing tried too hard, unable to please all his followers yet still they flock to him. Vil had half the mind to get rid of the mockery, but before he could put his plan into play a strange mortal had lost their way.

At least, Vil thought you may have been lost. The path to his shrine had become overrun by vegetation, and besides, who would even remember his shrine’s existence? Everyone was too busy trying to please Neige to pay the older God a second thought. Yet you had looked upon his broken down temple in awe, hands gliding over the ivory pillars that held chips, fingers gently holding a few ivy leaves to inspect. At first, Vil tried not to think too deeply about how he felt his shoulders relax in your presence, or how he watched you with just as much curiosity as you held for his sacred land. He tried not to question why his heart leapt when your eyes landed on his now decrepit statue, how your eyes wandered over the marble that had hoya carnosa’s trailing up his visage. At the very least they were in bloom, the pale pink flowers accentuating his beauty. 

“Beautiful,” You whispered out as you kneeled before his shrine. Shrugging off your bag, Vil watched as you dug through it, eyebrows scrunched as you searched for what you wanted. It was that moment that Vil realized how much he missed this. How much he took for granted his previous followers, growing more snarky and ignoring their wishes. Perhaps his downfall was his own doing…but he could never forgive that cheesy buffoon for taking advantage of his mistakes. Yet you, a mere mortal, nearly had a God on his knees, something he would never admit out loud. 

A bright smile overtook your face as you fished out some flowers along with some incense. After you lit the incense, you clasped your hands and bowed your head. Your wishes had rung through his head, and when you finished, you surprisingly didn’t leave right away. No, instead you spoke.

“I’m not sure if you’re real,” You stated, the sun painting your face perfectly. “But I had read a lot about you and wanted to see your shrine for myself. It's a shame this temple is left alone, it's absolutely breathtaking. If you are real, thank you for listening to my troubles, I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t have anywhere else, and Lord Neige has no time for a commoner like me.”

As you stood up, Vil felt his heart plummet. He didn’t want you to leave just yet, please stay. Yet he kept himself hidden, not wanting to scare you off. As you left, you felt just a bit better, at least you got your problems off your chest, and you had found your own sanctuary to hide out in. 

Vil thought that would be the last he saw off you, but he appreciated the incense and flowers nonetheless. Yet the incense burnt out after a few hours, and the flowers started to wilt after a few days. Still, you had managed to surprise the deity as you came back, a new batch of flowers in your hands. So in turn, he had decided to bless you, his silly little mortal. As you rested the flowers before his statue and kneeled, he decided to reveal himself. When you opened your eyes, you were startled when you saw the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He seemed familiar at first, and when your gaze rose to the statue that's when it clicked. It was none other than Vil, God of beauty, love. 

He couldn’t help but smirk at your awe, relishing in your newfound devotion. “Hello dear,” Vil greeted, lilac eyes watching your every expression with pride. “What do you wish to share with me today?”

Opening and closing your mouth, you had no idea what to say. A God stood before you, what was the proper protocol? You shouldn’t be staring at him should you? What if you said something that would cause him to smite you and your entire lineage? Your cheeks felt warm when he smiled down at you, and you held your breath as he drew closer, sitting on the altar that you currently kneeled before.

“No need to be scared,” He hummed, his voice soothing you in ways you didn’t know could be soothed. “You are the first mortal to step foot in my temple, let alone leave offerings at my altar in a century. The least I could do is lend an ear, no?”

“You’re so pretty,” You mumbled without realizing it. You seemed to snap out of it when Vil let out a small chuckle, greatly amused at your praise. Yet it also affected him more than he’d like to think about.

“Of course,” Vil smiled, something he hasn’t done in so long that it felt strange. “I wouldn’t be the God of beauty if I didn’t look the part.”

“R-right,” You stumbled, looking anywhere but him. Oh what a sight for sore eyes. “I-I can’t believe you’re real…” Vil only watched on as your brain struggled to believe the current scenario, and he took the time to admire you. In your prayers, wishes of looking beautiful and wishes to be loved had rung clear, yet Vil failed to understand why. You were nowhere near as beautiful as him, and you could use some touch ups, but for a mortal you were quite stunning.

After that day you had started to visit regularly. Now that you knew a lonely God was awaiting you, how could you keep him waiting? Every time he’d give you a lotion, serum, accessories, clothing…it seemed the more you visited the more extravagant the gifts became. When you wore something he gifted you he’d shower you with praise, if you kept up with your skin care routine he’d gently run his fingers over your skin, sharp eyes shining with affection. You turned from becoming his pet project to becoming something more, and you had never felt more loved than when your God treated you as something more than just a mere mortal, but someone who was not only worthy of his attention, but longed for yours.

[neptuneh0rn]

morning reflections | fire lord!zuko x reader

(gif not mine)

warnings: fluff, one kiss, tears (very brief), advisors being mean :(, fire lord zuko ;)

summary: trying to get zuko out of bed leads to unexpected confessions.

word count: 0.6k

A/N: this is a very short drabble that's been sitting in my drafts for way too long, so enjoy! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar/ spelling mistakes. feedback is appreciated.

“Honey, let go, we have a meeting with your advisors in 30 minutes.”

In answer, Zuko grumbled, tightening his arms around your waist and drawing you closer to his bare chest.

“Zuko,” you exclaimed, giggling, “we have to be there! You’re the fire lord, remember?”

“Exactly. I'm the fire lord, therefore I get to decide whether or not I attend the meeting,” he replied smugly, “and right now I’m deciding that I want to stay in bed with my beautiful wife.”

“Flattery isn't going to work, Zu. Don’t even try. Besides, your advisors have finally agreed to allow me to attend this one. I can't be late. That would hardly provide for a favourable first impression."

You had not been looking at Zuko's face when you said that, but you felt him stiffen at your words. All sense of playfulness eviscerates from the air.

"What," Zuko enunciates.

You shift your gaze back to his face, perplexed at his tone. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'my advisors are finally letting you attend this one'?"

"Oh," you replied sheepishly, "just forget I said that."

Zuko gave you a pointed look and sat up straight, resting on the headboard of the massive bed. You followed suit, suddenly taking an obstinate interest in his warm hands, fiddling with his fingers. He took one of his hands from yours and raised your chin with his index finger, urging you to make eye contact with him.

"You want to inform me," Zuko spoke softly, "or should I ask the advisors myself?"

"It's nothing," you started, "it's only that… every time I ask if I can attend the meetings, your advisors refuse. They tell me that these are not affairs that concern me."

Zuko always thought you didn't join meetings simply because you weren't interested in these affairs. His visage distorted into one of rage, and you felt compelled to calm him down, fearful of what he would do to his advisors.

"But it's truly not a problem! It makes no difference to me, honey. As a result, it should not concern you." You ran your hand along the nape of his neck, tenderly running your fingers along the hairs resting there.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've handled it," Zuko inquired, his voice concerned.

"What would it look like if I came to you with all of my problems? I need to show your advisors that I'm capable of being the fire lady you deserve; that the fire nation deserves," You muttered solemnly. Your head bowed low as if you were ashamed to admit this.

Zuko's heart ached at your confession. How long had you been feeling like this? It's been a year since Zuko took you as his betrothed, and it angered him to just find out now.

"Sweetheart," Zuko started, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, "you don't need to prove anything to anyone. You are already the fire lady that I deserve and that the fire nation needs. Your presence and input in these meetings are valuable to me, and I want you there by my side. I should have made that clear to my advisors from the start."

You looked up, tears forming in your eyes, "Really?"

"Of course," Zuko replied, wiping away a tear with his thumb, "I'll speak to my advisors and make sure that they understand your importance in these meetings."

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his, revelling in the softness of his lips. Zuko deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You felt relieved that you no longer had to hide your frustration and disappointment about being excluded from important meetings.

"Thank you, Zuko," you whispered, "you always know how to make everything better."

Zuko chuckled, holding you close, "That's what I'm here for, my love."

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[boopshoops]

"What beautiful blooms... it's a shame they're no more than weeds."

Home Transition/Groovification: So those blooms were called crimson lotuses, yes? ...I see. I'm not usually one to ogle over nature, but it's a shame to see these so quickly snuffed out. Not that I want to magic to end, obviously. If only...

Tap Home/Groovification: Finally, a moment of rest. Let's take a break from all the chaos. Gaining prestige can wait another day.

"Bloom of the Ball" - Yuu Shi's Vignette

This warmth of the lights in the dance hall was akin to a pleasant fire, beaming spotlights down amongst the students of Night Raven College. The hum of instruments and song began to hum pleasantly throughout the space, leaving other students stunned in its wake.

The Night Raven students, one including the great Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley at the center of it all, offered up a sweet serenade.

All of the students but one, that was.

The one who desired to sing most of all.

There was no way she could though, not when Yuu had once again returned to the role of "stranger."

The role of a new, unfamiliar, intimidating being that she once was when she began her education at NRC.

Originally this had been the plan from the get go! To enjoy the night as herself. To talk with others as herself. Garner favor as herself. Be herself.

Now, as Yuu watched her classmates, none the wiser that she was even there in a new, glamorous disguise, she felt...

Jealous?

Yes. Jealous.

The feeling tightened in her chest uncomfortably.

Despite the admiring glances sent towards her new, carefully crafted visage, she felt invisible again. Something she truly hated.

She wanted to be up there with them. She wanted to dance with them. Offer up their gift with them.

...and even when she ignored the fact that she was in disguise, they didn't even teach her the routine. Like, come on, she can catch on quickly! At least TELL her.

She shook her head with a huff, bringing herself out of her brooding thoughts. This whole trip had truly been disaster after disaster. Now, as she retreated out of the hall momentarily, remembering the lotuses that once coated the ground the day before, she couldn't help but desire their warmth as company.

Because right now, despite the crowds and cheers, despite those she'd spend dancing the night away with, she felt completely alone.

Yeah. Sure. What a "glorious" masquerade.

OI! You! I was doing some googling, trying to find some templates for some groovy overlays... only to find nothing! I mean I'm sure there are some, but eh, I made one myself anyway

Feel free to use it for your fan cards :]

Writing and art tag list! Just lmk if ya wanna be added @lowcallyfruity @cecilebutcher @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3 @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @twsted-canvas

Part 1/2

Part 2/2 - END

[ipegchangbin]

ipegchangbin, in the years since our last night together (lovely night by the way), i’ve reminisced often.

lovers, bodies touching on park benches, bated breath, curious hands. remember the orchard where you clutched my youth? the warm nights with love in our eyes? the grapefruit moon, the red fish in the water, your perfume, my last gift to you; a simple blushed peach. it all seems shortsighted now but i hold it close to my heart.

anyways, i had a dream the other day i had to lock myself in the bathroom during a holiday to jerk off non stop and i just couldn’t cum no matter how hard i tried, it was more like a nightmare.

can we discuss sweet changbin waking up in tears with ruined underwear after such a dream, unwavering need to hump his lover’s body beside him and play with his pussy until your cock/hands/mouth/whatever you want, grants his unabating wish to cum and spray his sweet release everywhere, and then retreat back to honeyed slumber and saccharine dreams with a smile on his dearest sleeping visage, most innate cravings quenched into next week.

love,

your fruitcake.

beloved dai fruitcakebin,

i remember you. of course i do. how could i forget, love? whenever i see peaches, i think of you and the blessed hand that gifted it to me; yours, the scent of your person still lingering as i browse grocery aisles that aren’t the same as the night we spent together. who would i be to forget you?

now about your dream…

🏷️ sub!boypussy!changbin. dom!gn!reader. cunnilingus (changbin receiving).

as sweet as his dreams are, changbin can’t help himself as he’s glued to your warmth on the bed. in his head, all he sees is the impression of your teeth revealing themselves into a menacing smile as he’s held in his seat with no physical restraints; just you, your hands, unforgivingly fingering his pretty pink pussy.

it’s too much yet not enough, your fingers — undoubtedly yours, felt by the texture and length and width — curling inwards and outwards in a way that keeps changbin’s release so close yet so far. in his head, he wants to go; in reality, he simply humps your leg, whimpering slightly in his sleep.

he grunts in real life, but in his dreamscape he’s begging for you with no clear intention. he doesn’t want it to stop but he doesn’t want to keep going without cumming. you take notice of his sweet noises in your hazy slumber-turned-wake, firstly noticing the sensation of something wet on your thigh.

his cunt oozes cream and wetness as he nears his orgasm: you devilishly stop him from cumming as your fingers harshly pull out of his cunt.

changbin wakes up with a high pitched whimper.

“y/n,” he cries out gently, clutching onto your arm. “can’t sleep.”

“mmm, can’t sleep or can’t cum?” you respond.

changbin’s eyes widen before darting down to the mess he’s making on your leg. his precum seeps through his underwear and makes it down to your thigh. you could feel his cunt pulsating, aching with pure desire chasing for you.

so you clench your thigh, watching changbin writhe by your side.

“was i noisy?” he asks adorably.

“a little, but i don’t mind.”

you take a handful of changbin’s love handles, revealed by his ridden-up shirt, allowing him to inch closer to your warmth. he responds with a roll of his hips, beady eyes returning to his wet dream as he keeps going, but you allow him to use your body.

the thing is, you don’t allow him release.

as if he’s back to his dream, your fingers find his cunt again and you rub circles on his clit. the fat bud reacts instantly, quivering as he gushes his wetness onto you. a whine escapes his luscious lips, but he attempts to muffle the next moan by kissing your neck.

you laugh with closed eyes as you squeeze his hip with your free hand.

“my lovely changbin, did you dream of this?”

“yes…” changbin’s eyes tear up and sparkle.

“you didn’t cum, right?”

he nods, gulping.

“want me to make you cum?”

changbin clamps his needy legs around yours, squeezing his cunt right on top of your fingers. he waits impatiently for you to respond but you simply giggle.

“well, i’ll make you cum after i play with you for a bit, yeah?”

he whines but takes it obediently. you always love this about him: he remains a good boy even when he grows desperate and impatient. the contrast makes your heart jump, so you don’t mind when he asks for more. he’s too adorable, with his cheeks puffed, ears beet red, eyelashes wet with tears, and a cunt leaking and aching to be loved.

one finger pushes his underwear aside. you slip two fingers inside his pussy and changbin moans fully.

rolling his body to slot himself onto your curves, changbin resists the urge to grind onto your leg and hand. he whines your name with hitches in his breath. it’s only then that you notice how hard he grips your arm but it’s never enough to squeeze. he loves that you love him.

so you pump your fingers slowly into his cunt. a wet noise follows your calculated actions, the sound of sin echoing through the bedroom as changbin feels everything. he pulses on your cunt and gushes even in the smallest of strokes. it’s only two fingers, but the chub of his pussy lips sucks you into his tight walls in waves of pleasure.

“relax.” you slowly detach from changbin’s grasp, making him clench around your fingers to signal you to stop. you raise an eyebrow at him.

“changbin, i said relax.”

he instantly unclenches and a small flood of wetness follows. his arms loosen around your body, allowing you space to move as you wish.

“can i taste my binnie? wanna see your pretty pussy,” you suggest.

the taste of his cunt is a drug that you can’t get enough of. it’s a taste that’s savory and sweet, only enhanced by the look of his folds against the curls of his pubic hair. his pussy lips are sensitive to the point that kitten licks get him to cum, and his clit appears only once he’s aroused enough — much like a flower blooming. he’s so gorgeous and he tastes like heaven.

so you motion yourself down on him, opening his legs, slotting your mouth on top of his pussy.

“y/n!” this time, he fully cries. “please! i’ll cum!”

“isn’t that what you want?” you ask, leaning your cheek against his thigh. “i’ll give it to you if you give yourself to me.”

changbin sniffs back his next cry, opting to nod in response. at that, your tongue immediately licks a stripe down his cunt. changbin instinctively closes his legs, caging your head onto his pussy.

he cums a little bit once your tongue licks back up and finds his clit, but neither of you think nothing of it once your lips attach onto it and suck.

he writhes, whining your name, one hand holding the pillow behind his head while the other grabs you by your hair. he’s still gentle with it but he pulls you closer onto his cunt, letting you savor the taste of his leaking cum while you keep going. the ache only gets worse when you cup his inner thigh with one hand, while two fingers of his other hand find his needy hole again.

guiding themselves back, his tight hole reopens for you as you pump two fingers in with the same speed in which you suck his clit. changbin’s tears fall down his heated cheeks as you fuck his wetness and cum in and out. you slowly add one more digit into his tight hole, the difference making it tighter. changbin wails and squirms lightly, soft belly bouncing as he rolls his hips onto your head.

release builds and builds until it almost explodes — your mouth pops out of his clit.

“cum all over my mouth binnie.”

you lick his cunt once, twice. then your fingers curl to his limit, then his sweet spot, then before you know it, he squirts.

shock washes over changbin as he sprays his release onto your mouth and hand. even the sheets beneath you both get wet. but before apologies reel in, you lick up his release and finger his cunt more until he creams this time.

at this point, changbin’s a sobbing mess.

he wails for comfort only to be greeted by a kiss on the cunt and a hug around his belly.

“did so good for me,” you say, licking your lips.

the warmth of your body hugging him calms changbin. his breath stabilizes slightly as you pat his hips. you readjust your position after a minute passes, just you and him slowing your adrenalines down.

you invite changbin to hug you in the same position you both started, only now, you both are messes that smell like sweat, cum, and love.

another minute goes by and changbin snores, drooling on your chest, cum oozing out of his pussy as he returns to deep, satisfied slumber.

[lumilasi]

Illustration for The Void's Echo fic, bc I honestly miss doing art for my writing (or other people's writing I like for that matter tbh, I just haven't really had that much time to read myself lately)

I was wondering if I should do all the art for this story in the digital painting style, or use my more usual lineart-including one sometimes. I think I'll do both, the painting style takes longer after all.

Anyway, I THINK this is based on this scene on chapter 1, (Jayce's part anyway, I'm not gonna go into a full explanation as to what is going on here rn) but there might've been another, similar one later:

Because he felt very tired still, his body and mind drained with the kind of exhaustion you felt in your very bones, your core, he spent most of the day just resting, or watching Viktor sleep, unable to look away everytime he was awake. Viktor wouldn’t move, wouldn’t react to anything, not his voice, his fingers brushing his hair or cheek, nothing. He was there, but Jayce also felt, horribly, like he wasn’t. Like he was just looking at an empty shell. The body was there, but the mind, the consciousness was gone. His hostess spent most of the day outside, she was apparently genuinely a healer, and not just somebody who could help his specific case. Jayce was thankful for that, honestly, not wanting her to bore witness to the pathetic sight of him hanging around Viktor’s bedside, sitting on the floor beside him like a sad little puppy. He just….he felt physically sick, going too far from Viktor right now, and Jayce wasn’t certain if he was just that pitiful, or if something more was at play.

Either way, once night settled over the strange town with the colorful skies changing from their pastel pinks and teals to deep blues and purples, Jayce finds himself laying on his bed again, unable to sleep. He stares at Viktor across from him, desperately hoping he’d do something, anything. Just move his head, flutter his eyes, some sort of sign he was still there.

Nothing.

No matter how much he waited, how much he wished so, Viktor’s visage didn’t change, he just laid there silent, his glowing hair somewhat reflecting the colored lights outside. Jayce sits up slowly, watching his sleeping partner in the silence of the night, before slipping out of bed as quietly as he could. Granted his hostess was sleeping on the second floor, but he still didn’t want to disturb her: Mariella was a busy woman, her profession highly important, and he already felt like she was worried enough about her patients, and her away family. Jayce hadn’t dared to ask what they were up to, and it was none of his business anyway. He makes his way across the short distance, feeling the painful ache in his chest ease the closer he got. For a moment, Jayce just stands there, hesitant, not knowing what to do. He needed to be closer, he couldn’t sleep with that hollow feeling on his chest, but part of him felt…uneasy, uncomfortable. Viktor was unaware or everything around him, would he even want Jayce this close after everything that transpired? He’d managed to convince him in the end, but…

Jayce feels a sudden sting of pain in his chest, strong enough to collapse to the floor, curling to himself as he sat there back against the side of the bed, just panting and trying to weather it. He was starting to suspect this was indeed something more. This pain wasn’t coming from his body, but his soul. It sounded insane, but he had a strong feeling it was true.

Once his breathing eases, Jayce turns his head, able to study Viktor’s features from his spot, the faintly glowing hair framing his pale face so beautifully. He looked almost angelic right now, because of the strange effect his hair was having, making Jayce wonder why that was. Why his hair had turned normal, but Viktor was still glowing. Turning to face him properly, Jayce reaches for the pale hand resting next to him, pulling it off the bed and bringing it to his lips. He could feel Viktor’s heartbeat through his wrist, a sensation that seemed to ease the aching he felt. He turns the hand around to kiss his palm as well, holding onto it with both hands. Jayce felt like a coward, wishing he’d done this ages ago, shown Viktor how he felt before it was too late. Maybe all of this could’ve been prevented, if only he could’ve made him see how valuable he was, how much he—he—

Jayce let’s out a shaky gasp, clutching the limp arm in his grasp as the pain within him worsens. It gets so bad for a moment he fears he was going to pass out from it. He scrambles off the floor after a moment in what he could only describe as instinct of some sort, climbing next to Viktor on the bed to pull him tight against his chest, burying his face against those glowing locks. It was so pitiful, so pathetic, he felt like an addict unable to cope with any distance between them right now. Even the fairly thin bedsheet still between them felt like too much, and Jayce wanted nothing more but to slip under it as well, so he could mend himself against the pale skin beneath, hold him as close as he physically could.

He doesn’t.

[javiersprincess]

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝚶𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝚬: 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐔𝐋𝐔 𝐏𝐓 𝚶𝐍𝚬 + 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

tags: wc: 1.3k, sfw, gn reader, reader is a part of the astral express crew, jing yuan is flirtatious as fuck LMAO, no warnings, reader is a foodie, reader is referred to as sweetheart.

synopsis: you know all about different types of food and when caught looking for a certain treat, a certain general can't help but take the chance to you what you want and more.

You came to the Xianzhou Luofu with the rest of the Astral Express - you were hesitant to leave Dan Heng, Pom-Pom, and Himeko alone but at the behest of March 7th you had joined their quest. As the events transpired you often felt a tug at your eyes and nose. Each time March 7th would be talking your ear off about new spots she wanted to visit for photos your eyes would wander on a specific sugar-glazed treat you have always wanted to try, 

Not many would know this but you were passionate about cooking, it was often you and Pom-Pom who made the meals for the rest of the crew save for Himeko’s coffee that is. You were always looking for new inspiration, new recipes from different planets to enjoy and make. It just so happens that the Xianzhou is home to the snack you’ve most wanted to try - tanghulu.

Any fruit can be used to make Tanghulu, the most trending fruit would be strawberries but grapes and mangos are popular too. But the one you want to try most is the traditional variant - red hawthorn berries. Information of the candy pours out of your mouth subconsciously, you are muttering to yourself so much so that March 7th just giggles behind her hand as a gold eye watches you from behind - lazy in its amusement and keen in its desire.

“I never would have assumed that the Nameless had such culinary knowledge of the cuisine of the Xianzhou Luofu.”

You freeze, and something like dread pools in your stomach.

Turning your head you see the smiling general - the most legendary of warriors this ship has to offer in its long legacy and the most important man on the ship. General Jing Yuan stands before you in the flesh. While you had seen his visage in the form of a blue hologram now you can see the flush in his complex and the shine of his hair - General Jing Yan is incredibly handsome it is known and you can’t find any escape from the truth. He smiles at your surprised expression, laughing quietly to himself as he turns his attention to March 7th, who was still laughing at your deer-in-headlights look.

“Do you mind if I cut in? I can never stop myself from treating a guest to delicacies we of The Luofu offer when given the chance.” March 7th is quick to grin and even quicker to play matchmaker and responds with all sorts of giddiness in her voice.

“Oh be my guest General, just don’t keep them out too long! We still have work to do!” She calls as she whips out her phone, you whine as you feel a strong hand come to rest at your waist. March 7th would hesitate to tell Stelle and the others about you being whisked away by the General of all people on what she would call a date.

“I heard you muttering about tanghulu, is that what you were looking to try?” He asks you, tone light and cordial as you stutter over your words.

“Y-yes I follow a lot of content about gastronomy and I’ve seen a lot of people talk about it. It’s been a food I’ve always wanted to try.” You confess, keeping your eyes in front of you as you follow his steps, fingers fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. 

“Hm, how curious considering it’s a sweet for children, but then again it’s not the most common of foods that catch the public’s eyes is it?” He asks and you laugh, thinking about other trending foods of different planets that all come from all sorts of circumstances.

“Yes you are right in that aspect - anything can be whipped up by the fame that people attribute to food, even something as a seasonal children’s sweet.” You agree, eyes flickering to him as you laugh under your breath. The white hair general returns your smile and only tears his eyes off of you to speak to a stallman that sells tanghulu. Once again your eyes are captured by the shine of the vibrant colors of fruit and the starlight shine of sugar - the Xianzhou natives can only chuckle at your starry-eyed expression.

“Here, let me treat you to it since you have come all this way - it wouldn’t do for you to go without it.” Jing Yuan says with a smile despite the way you wave your arms, telling him he won’t have to do such a thing.

“What's the most popular fruit right now for the tanghulu?” Jing Yuan asks, blissfully ignoring your stammer as the stallman laughs at your interaction, resting an elbow on the counter and looking over his wares.

“Most young people have been asking for strawberries these days.” Jing Yuan nods and takes the appropriate amount of credits out to pay for the treat, however before the stallman takes it you enter back into the conversation.

“Um, is it okay if I ask for hawthorn instead? That’s the more traditional option right?” You ask, looking back and forth between the two men. The stallman laughs boisterously, finding more amusement in this situation than you ever will.

“General - keep your money, this one clearly knows how to eat real food,” The stallman winks at you, “I’ll throw in another one just cuz I like the way you think sweetheart.” From next to you Jing Yuan chuckles, tucking away the money, and looks at you from his taller position.

“You certainly struck a deal, didn’t you? Getting two free tanghulu is quite the steal.” He comments, crossing his arms across his chest. You look at him - you find him somehow more handsome with each passing moment, your eyes caught on the length of his lashes and the charm of his mole.

“I didn’t think that would happen, I just wanted to taste the real thing before trying anything newer.” You confess, going back to fiddling with the button of your levee and Jing Yuan hums at your answer.

“Are you the type of person that is fond of antiquities?” He asked suddenly and by the shining flush on your face, he grins broadly at your unspoken admittance. Acutely, he turns to collect the two tanghulu and hands one to you while thanking the stallman.

“How did you guess?” You mutter embarrassed and Jing Yuan chuckles at your fluster.

“Call it the intuition of an old man.” He speaks lightly but you get the feeling that he is smug in his victorious assessment. A gold eye looks at you warmly and he urges you to try the tanghulu that you stare at wantingly. You flush under the weight of his stare and go in for the first bite. He watches in utter fascination at how your face brightens, smiling at the crisp sugar and sweet sourness of the hawthorn berry. Jing Yuan was sure that if you had a tail it would wag behind you merrily.

“I take you like it?” He asks, chuckling at how you finish the first berry and are about to move on to the second before he hands you the second skewer along with a note - “Where did he find the time to write on the note?” you wonder.

“Here, give this one to your friend as an apology for taking you away from her,” he says smiling as he knows she didn’t mind, “The note contains my personal phone number. Feel free when there is any sort of Xianzhou cuisine you want to try out - traditional or popular.”

There’s a flirtatious edge to his smile as he repeats himself.

“And I really do mean anything. I have to take my leave now, I hope to see you soon.” He says confidently and makes his way in the direction of the building you and March had exited from, where the Helm Master Yukong was awaiting him. You stand there, two tanghulu in hand, the general’s number on a note, and just as you are trying to process what just happened your own phone dings. 

A message from March, pestering smug as it reads - “Soooo how did your date go?” followed by a smirking sticker.

Then it hits you, you just went on a date with the general of the Luofu, and from behind you, the stallman laughs again.

[wakeup01]

The Shorts, Like, Maketh The Man

The black shorts were just laying there, hanging off the empty bench. I know, I know. But I wasn’t usually the type to pick up sweaty used clothing in the street, but there was something drawing me to them. Calling out to me. They weren’t really my style even, clearly gym shorts for the sort of person who spends at least an hour a day looking in the mirror. I’d never even set foot in a gym. But still, they were…nice. The polyester material felt good in my hand. Silky. There was clearly some text on the back of them but I was too excited to bother reading it. Maybe I could have them? It didn’t seem like the owner wanted them anymore anyway. I look around for any onlookers and quietly take them, stuffing them away in my pocket.

I wanted to try them on. Needed to. Finding a secluded area, I remove my trousers and pull the smooth fabric up my unimpressive legs. They felt incredibly good around my waist, like they were made for me. There was a warmth radiating from them. Mmff. They seem to press against…all the right places. Clinging to my skin. I catch myself letting out a soft moan, my face blushing red at hearing the sound. Maybe I should take them off, it would be weird to walk home in someone else’s—someone…some..one. Mine. They were my shorts. I leave the baggy trousers behind and step out into the street, an extra boost of confidence in my step.

While I’m walking my body feels slightly off, as if my weight distribution had shifted. Each foot forward felt heavier, stronger. People start to turn and gaze at me. I catch a glimpse of my chunky arms; were they always that veiny? Huh. I see my reflection strutting in a shop window and freeze on the spot. What on earth? There was a completely different person staring back at me. He was sexy as all hell. I looked like a utter gymrat. I touch my sharp, smooth jaw and run my fingers over my harsh buzzed hair. The visage in the reflection copies my exact movements, a large, self assured smirk set on their face. Curious, I lift the hem of my t-shirt. Woah! I was completely jacked! You could sharpen a blade on these abs.

Somehow I had gained pounds of lean muscle in a matter of minutes and my skin had been tanned a luscious golden hue. Certainly, I wasn’t about to complain about this turn of events. Maybe I should pick up discarded clothes more often!

Fuck, my body was li—like, fit. Just check it out. I pull out my phone and take a selfie. Okay. Maybe several selfies. Fine, maybe it was a couple dozen. Who gives a fuck when you look this hot. I didn’t even care about the pedestrians walking past and staring. They SHOULD stare. Admire this prize. This TROPHY. I was in peak form from head to toe. The shiny shorts accentuated my thick, meaty legs perfectly.

My eyes suddenly catch the time on my phone, pulling me out of my shameless self obsession. Damn, at this rate I was gonna be late for Daddy. Wait. Daddy? That’s not right, I wasn’t…

Ugh. My mind felt all jumbled up, like a finished jigsaw puzzle suddenly dropped to the floor. Pieces scattered. It was…I needed to…Daddy! Like, of course. After all, I was just a trophy boy. HIS trophy. An accessory for him to show off. Sculpting my body just how daddy likes it; my muscles existed for his enjoyment. Not that I didn’t enjoy them too…hmm.

My head hurt. Fuck. Was that right? No, I couldn’t be just some brainless boy toy. Now it made sense why the owner abandoned these damn shorts. Shit, It was altering my mind. I was becoming…I needed to remove these—mmff. But right then I feel the shorts squeeze on my bulge. It felt incredible! I shouldn’t, but I never, like, you know, wanted it to stop. My sensitive cock pulsed, thickening while stretching across the fabric. Ahhh! I grin inanely as pre drips down my leg. Like, yeah. Da—daddy loved his boy all hard. He loved when I did as he instructed. A pretty plastic toy to pose and play with. I was so proud to be his. Yes, I was his; body and mind. Like, how did I forget? I can be such an air-headed ditz sometimes. It’s a good thing Daddy also likes his twunky boys dumb; dumb, vapid and full of cum. I was good at those things. Huhuhuh.

I turn around - biting my lip - and look at my tight rear. The shorts thin fabric was digging between the two round globes. ‘Daddy’s Trophy’ was emblazoned on the back, across my cheeks. Mmff. I give my butt a light slap and watch it jiggle. I happily let out a pleasurable moan; it made me feel nice that everyone would know what I am. Explaining it was like, soo difficult and stuff. Daddy says I shouldn’t stress my pretty little head over such complex things. Uhhh. Anyway, these shorts were his favourite, all his boys wore them. He loved watching me dutifully clean the house in them. Or working out in them. Or obediently fucking him in them. Or being fucked…bouncing on his lap.

Oh right! I just remembered! I was supposed to meet him. Sir wanted to finalise our arrangement, there was one last thing to change before I could sign that dull agreement. His trophy boys were always blond. Blond and basic. Huhu. Just like I was about to be.

[helios-writings]

Howl

Werewolf Shanks x gn! Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: spooky themes, themes of violence. Nothing too crazy though.

You run a bookshop in a town plagued by stories of monsters and demons, not that you believed any of those stories yourself. And then one day, you meet Shanks.

As a bookseller, you’d read countless stories about creatures of the Night. Seen stories unfold first hand, too. Your grandmother going on a walk through the woods and never returning, your father coming back from a hunt, face pale as death as he informs everyone that something had taken the others.

You had never seen any of this for yourself, of course, never allowed to leave town or walk alone at night. You even doubted that any of these creatures really existed, or if they were just tall tales spread by those who had heard the echoes of animals in the dark and thought they were monsters. People going missing, or were they just tired of living in a town plagued by the deceivable?

You were, you were tired of living the same day to day routine. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, your loved ones had died here, you had grown up here. You were chained to a town that held nothing for you, except for countless days of old ladies arguing over a book, like now.

As they argue, you stand behind the counter, fighting the urge to kick them both out or ban them from your shop entirely. Everyday was a monotonous routine in which you were trapped.

Until the bell above the door rings and a man walks in, someone new. Instantly, you feel wary, like something is wrong, but you don’t know what. The feeling only gets stronger as he gets closer.

He grins, all teeth and sparkling eyes. “I’m your new neighbor, Shanks.”

You introduce yourself warily, no one ever comes here. Not even tourists, even though the town’s infamy was known throughout countless places.

“Are you uh, here to buy something?” You ask, after a moment of silence.

The way he’s eyeing you makes you want to shift in your seat, but you don’t. Shanks just smiles.

“Just introducing myself, you’re the only one that’s talked to me so far.”

And although that wary feeling is still there, you smile back, and his grin only gets wider.

***

The man, Shanks, is strange. He drops by almost every day, only being gone a few days out of each month, for business, he tells you. You grow accustomed to his presence, and it becomes stranger for you to not see him at all than it does the opposite. You begin to fall in love with him.

He loves to help around the shop, especially when he can reach the shelves you can’t, almost preening when you thank him for it.

Right now, he’s sitting on the other side of the counter, head resting on his arms as he watches you price the new shipment of books.

“I’ll be going to the city for a week or two,” he tells you, “you should come with me.”

You pause for only a moment, but shake your head and continue. “I’ve never left town, you know that.”

“Why not? If you don’t believe in the stories, then nothing should stop you from leaving.”

You sigh heavily. “Shanks, it’s complicated. Who would look after the shop when I’m gone? It’s too much stress.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Maybe some other time, yeah?”

You can tell he’s upset, even if he's apologetic about frustrating you, and that alone makes you want to go with him, but you don’t.

You do go see him off the next morning, a thermos full of coffee in your hand for him.

He grins. “Well, I’m glad you decided to see me off.”

“I can’t let you be deprived of my visage for too long, I know you love it.”

Shanks snorts. “Ha! More like you couldn’t bear to go without seeing me one last time.”

You pull him into a hug and he buries his face into your neck, like he usually does. He kisses your forehead and then sets off.

***

The next few days go by without incident. Customer, shelve books, customer, shelve books. You have to get the step ladder for the ones that you can’t reach. You hate it.

You do find yourself missing Shanks more than you thought you would. You figure that it might be because he’s farther away, or that maybe your feelings for him just make that distance feel wider.

And then, you walk upstairs from your shop to your house, and see it. All those years doubting everyone in town, only for those crazy stories to be true.

You don’t know how the creature got into your house, all you know is that its hulking mass is hovering above you, lips curled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth, sharper than any knife you’ve ever seen.

Werewolf, your mind supplies, even through the cloud of fear gripping it. A werewolf, just like the people in town have said. This is it, you’re going to be eaten by a werewolf.

You turn your head away from its gaze, revealing your neck, hoping that easier access to your throat will make death come quicker.

Instead of the jaws wrapping around your throat ready to devour you, you hear a high pitched wine, followed by a furry cheek rubbing against your neck and face.

Gasping in shock you quickly stand up and walk backwards, until you hit a wall, your eyes never leaving the creature in front of you. It whines again, coming closer, head bowed to you in some sort of surrender. You have no idea what the fuck is happening. When the werewolf reaches you again, it pushes you with its nose, trying to move you away from the wall and onto the floor with it.

Deciding that you might as well, lest you piss it off and cause it to kill you, you gingerly sit on the ground next to it. It licks your face happily, and then nudges its head into your neck. You laugh a little.

You wonder why it didn’t eat you, why it's being so friendly with you. You place your hand on its head and stroke its head, watching as its dark brown eyes close in delight.

Those eyes are so familiar to you, yet you can’t place them.

“I guess you aren’t so bad,” you say, “but who are you?”

It just whines again, licking you. It makes you feel kind of…..safe.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not going to eat me.”

It sighs contentedly and lays it head on your lap, falling asleep. You fall asleep like that too.

***

When you wake up, there's an arm around you, pulling you into their warm side.

Immediately your eyes shoot open and you wrestle free, staring into the eyes of Shanks, your neighbor, who happens to be naked. And in the place where the werewolf was.

You turn your head away in embarrassment, but the confusion filling you refuses to fade, even in the face of the man you had come to befriend over the months he had been here.

You open your mouth to say something, to ask a question, to fill the silence, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not having this conversation while I’m naked.”

He stands up, grabbing a nearby blanket to throw over himself. “Just….30 minutes, wait 30 minutes.”

And then he’s gone, leaving your head spinning.

Deciding to keep busy, you make coffee and prepare breakfast, head swimming with everything that happened. Shanks was a werewolf and on any other day, that would’ve made you laugh, but not now. Not after you had come face to face with a creature of the Night and lived.

The familiar three knocks sounded at the door and he entered again, clothed this time.

You watched as he made a plate and sat down across from you at the table.

“Alright,” he starts, “how much do you know about werewolves?”

“Only what I’ve heard from the townsfolk and what I’ve read in books about them, which if you hadn’t seen, isn’t a lot.”

The red haired man sighs. “Well, as you can imagine, I didn’t actually get these scars in a bar fight.”

You listen intently, nodding along.

“I turned a few days later, and I’ve been like that ever since. It's been…years, I think.”

“You were quite cute as a wolf. Very affectionate, too.”

He flushes. “Funny, that.”

“The way you said that makes me think it's actually not very funny at all.”

Shanks tears into a piece of bacon as a response and you glare at him. “Shanks.”

“There is one detail that no werewolf book seems to mention.”

“Spill it.”

He growls in exasperation. “Sometimes, we can become fixated on someone. Scent-marking them, protecting them. Even as wolves, something inside of us recognizes that person.”

“So you’re saying…?”

The red haired man rolls his eyes. “Christ, you’re impossible.”

Shanks pulls you forward and kisses you, he tastes of coffee. You gasp a little into the kiss and he grins, nipping your lip softly as he pulls away.

“I have probably loved you ever since I walked into your bookshop, it was like I had known you my whole life, had known you in my soul.”

“Oh.” And you sit with that for a moment. You think about all the times he’d come into the bookshop for no reason. How many times he had insisted on feeding you or taking his jacket. And then it clicks.

“You motherfucker, you’ve been courting me this whole time.”

Shanks is sheepish, which doesn’t happen often. “Guilty?”

You kiss him a little desperately. “I love you too.”

He lets out a high pitched whine, like it was a reflex. You laugh into the kiss.

“Your doglike qualities do make a lot more sense now.”

“Very funny.”

“I do have one other question, though.”

“Go on.”

You’re playing with his fingers. “You said you were going to the city, but you’re here instead.”

He buries his face into your hair, sighing. “I missed you and when I’m like that, I don’t think. I came here, looking for you. I was desperate to see you, to make sure you were okay. The smell, your smell, is strongest here. And then you actually came inside, and it was like all of my thoughts had transformed into needing to scent you. I do it even as a human.”

“Scent me?”

“Making you smell like me, so the other monsters know not to touch you.”

You feel hot; embarrassed. “Oh.”

“Every time I’m gone for a few days, its to transform, but I hate leaving you. It's why I wanted you to come with me, the farther away you are, the stronger the urge gets and then I commit a felony by breaking into your house.”

“I couldn’t tell you any of that, though,” he continues, “if I’d scared you, or worse, made you angry, I’d never forgive myself.”

You kiss him softly. “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

Shanks smiles into the kiss. “Thank you.” For accepting me goes unsaid, but you know what he means.

“Next time you leave, I’ll go with you. Anywhere, just say the words.”

“Careful, a promise like that and I’ll keep you by my side forever.” He teases.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Don’t joke around like that, someone might think you were proposing.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe in a year or two, unless we’re already married in some wolfy way I don’t know about?”

He grins. “Not unless you want to be.”

“We’ll come back to that later, much later. For now, I’ve got a pile of books that need to be put on high shelves with your name written on them.” You tell him, standing up and stretching, tired of sitting down for so long.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You expected his werewolf reveal to be more of a shock, but it made so many things about him make sense, things that you had already loved about him. Maybe one day, you and Shanks would leave this town together, to be happy somewhere else. But that's in the future, and today you are content with Shanks picking you up in his arms and peppering your face with kisses.

[monsterfloofs]

Drone (Name Unknown) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(New silly robot??? New silly robot!!!)

“Hey buddy. . . you doing okay?”

Diagrams and maps start flicking around the inside of a mechanized mind. Camera’s lock onto the face of the person bending down and staring at them. Recognition dawning, and information beginning to populate into text that floated around the hazy visage.

“Prisoner 368a. . .” The voice droned before the cameras shifted to examine their surroundings. “Input systems must be damaged, I am not receiving schematics of your sector.”

The human prisoner winces, “Well. . . that’s because we aren’t. . . uh, we’re not there anymore.”

“I told you not to take that hunk of junk with you!” A voice on the other side of the room snapped, causing the drones cameras to swivel and look for the source of the voice.

“What could I do?” The person looming over them replied, a tremor of nervousness in their voice, “I wasn’t even sure if they would be operational, we must be at least a solar system away from their main control system.”

“Sh! And we want to keep it that way!”

Unable to find this new voice, camera’s swivel back to the known human. Tracking the person's eyes rolling in obvious annoyance, “I didn’t give away our location, cheebus, you are so. . .” Then their shoulders sag before their face turns back, almond eyes staring down.

“Are you. . . alright?”

”I am operational.” The drone replies smoothly, “You promised you wouldn’t do anything that would make our elite upset. I see you didn’t keep your promise.”

“Oh my god,” The other voice pipes up again, “ I didn’t even know a drone could be passive aggressive. This is the last time I let you take in any stray weirdos you find. If they make any more snippy comments I am coming down there and throwing them into space myself.”

“They were kind to me!” Prisoner 368a snaps back, “And it’s my fault they got hurt.”

”Honey, they were keeping you prisoner.” The other voice sounded shocked.

Sensor’s indicate Prisoner 368a temperature rise in their face, a subtle and slight shift of mood.

“Today just couldn’t get any worse.” The human mutters. The drone tried to move, one arm twitching and whirring as the other scraped against the floor.

“I am. . . damaged.” The bot reported new schematics populating into the green striped vision. Their movements were sluggish, even their own operating system seemed to take a hit. Yet there was a strange feeling of clarity. “Prisoner 368a. . . what has happened?” There was that strange cringing expression again, eyes crinkling, eyebrows pulling down, lips pulling back in a grimace to show little white rectangles of teeth.

”You’re. . . offline. I mean, yes you’re damaged, that too. Ah.” They rub the back of their neck with a five fingered appendage. “I’m. . . kind of surprised you’re functional right now. Your systems must have some kind of backup computer that lets you go solo. We. . . we aren’t within your fleet's parameters anymore.” The drone whirs and clicks, staring back at the human.

“We. . . are not.”

“No.” The five fingered hands steeple together, fingertips pressing against lips. “So. . . long story, Oh man how do I put this. I. . .”

“We have been botnapped. I see.”

The human makes a strange huffing sound.

”Ahem. Not. . . exactly. I’ve been rescued. . . you’ve been botnapped. I guess. Though, I didn’t mean for it to be like that? You. . . stood in front of someone trying to hurt me, and while I was stuck in that cell you tried to help me, so I thought that I would return the favor. You know? See if I can fix you.”

“Ah. I now see, you have botnapped me.”

Another strange noise between a squeak and a gasp.

“Ah, n-no? I tried to save you! You know where you guys end up when your ranks think one of you is defective? Right into the incinerator! I didn’t want that to happen to you!” The prisoner looked fretful, new schematics mapping the nuances of their face.

”I. . . see.” Though truly, the drone didn’t understand it at all. “And you believe that I am still worthy of being fixed even though I am defective?”

“Yes— No! You’re not defective!” The ex-prisoner pleaded.

A confusing answer.

“Yes no? What is the prerogative of a yes no?”

The human sat in a stunned silence, taking in a deep breath. “No, you are not defective. Thinking for yourself and wanting things is not being defective. I know your elite love to chant ‘One mind, one soul,’ but that’s not really. . . uh. . . I just think you should be able to have the right to think for yourself. You chose to go that path. When I was escaping the cells, even when I was there, you chose to be kind and go out of your way to look after me. It wasn’t in your programming but you wanted to anyway. I think you should have the right to be able to continue to choose that path. If. . . you want to.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

[ruinsof-rome]

My theories on the album covers

okay, I'm having many thougts based on the posts on tiredandlonelymuse and I'm trying to articulate everything so hear me out:

the standart cover is the only one that the face isn't interchangeable, and it's also the only one that we see only the face, covered in makeup in a way that evokes tenderness, innocence, melancholy, doll vibes. it could also be like when a child tries to do their makeup to try to emulate being older, playing pretend, but you can still see that's only a child, an innocent being. (i wanted to articulate more on this but i'm having trouble expressing myself in english)

now to the expression on her face. it feels like they're daydreaming, or dissassociating. the gaze looking far away, as if she's not mentally here anymore. see, this is their "tender core", who as a child "became such a skilled dis-associator that I split in two".

“Leave your body, and go somewhere else.”

so this cover we see Ashley, putting makeup on to play pretend as if she's someone else, dissassociating from their reality.

also i want to include this excerpt because i feel like it relates somehow: "My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no."

ok, so now onto the variants.

for the empty faces, we have "I will always reassemble to fit perfectly for you" "Someone new peeking through the room. I fear the name you whispered is mine, I’ll know it soon. I’m headless, I’m just limbs. I think they’re coming in. I already died, so this is extra time."

and if the empty space is a mirror, "Her voice and visage a reflection of your deepest dreams and darkest fears." "Standing now, in the mirror that i built myself"

on the covers with the faces on, i read some posts on @inthenameofloveforthesakeofpower that made me think

the only variant that's looking away and is expressing some emotion is the 70's one. the others are looking directly to the camera, displaying no emotions.

but at the same time, they all relate to this part "In a confusing chain of events, my maladaptive daydream became my full time reality. My armor can walk and talk and they look just like me."

and these variants showcase the "ability of a woman who can become anyone, anything your heart desires. Friend, lover, foe. She transforms before your very eyes."

we establish that the variants are the Halsey persona, the armor, that protects the core of Ashley while also being able to transform in every form imaginable.

OK NOW TO THE FUN PART: why is blonde halsey the only one looking away?

her face on this particular cover looks A LOT like the close up on the standart one. it's not the same photo, but both of them have this look of melancholy and dissassociation. andd i just noticed that the eye makeup is the same on both covers!! the eyelashes and the black liner are exactly the same.

blonde halsey is related to the song The End, the most personal song released, talking about their health struggles. This comes from ashley, the person who is sick. but she's releasing the song under the cover of halsey, as if she's the child that's putting make up on to appeal to the world. that's why we can see her with the same expression, looking away in fear when becoming this other persona. she's too scared to tell these big news by herself.

then we get to the other covers, where her maladaptive daydream became their full time reality. that's why they all are looking directly to the camera, because they created their conciousness, they're the reality now, they are in the present.

i'm seeing as if the covers are progressing, as in each one that passes she's getting more and more into the halsey persona

pink halsey, the last on the scale, represents the songs Lucky and Lonely is the Muse, both of wich feels like it's Halsey talking from their experience. She's a popstar, she's so lucky, but why is she still so sad? She's a muse, built from special pieces that can always reassemble to fit perfectly for you.

also back to blonde halsey x the others, i have this other theory where there's this part "I already died, so now I see it open eyed. I already died, so I am justified." she could be the only one with conciousness, seeing it open eyed

ok that's it for now!!! i'm sleepy but my head was bubbling with these thoughts so i needed to write them down! i'm sorry for any errors or if i couldn't express myself correctly, i'm writing on my second language so some thoughts are difficult to translate. i'm probably super wrong about all of this, but i had fun writing!!

[arc-misadventures]

A Solider, A Huntsman, And A Monster

They made a wide berth around me as I walked through the halls of, Atlas Academy. Many moved to the side to make way for my presence, others stopped in their walking to jump back in alarm as they saw my ghastly visage before them. I tended to create, although involuntarily, stirs around people who haven’t seen me.

Although, many offered me a kind, and polite nod of the head in acknowledgment as they saw me walk by. These were mostly the rank, and file soldiers you would find strewn about the academy. Be they enlisted, or officers, my actions in the defence of, Atlas, and Mantle had earned me their respect, and mine in turn.

But, peoples fear of me would have to wait, General Ironwood wanted to speak with me, and I for one wasn’t planning to keep him waiting, especially since his summons seemed rather urgent. A notion that filled my broken soul with unease.

When I reached the doors leading to, General Ironwood’s office I softly knocked on the door, and entered. Well, what what I thought was a soft knock made a sound more akin to a hammer pounding warped steel. I looked down at my right hand, inspecting the white bone plate upon it, as I entered the generals office.

Jaune: My apologies… I thought that was knocking softly… evidently not.

Ironwood: It is quite alright, Mr. Arc. Please do come in.

As I entered his office I saw several other individuals in the room. Specialist Winter Schnee, Specialist Ebi Clover, several of Atlas’s council members, including its latest addition, Robyn Hill. My gaze lingered upon her longer than others, but it was soon put to an ease as she walked over, and held out her hand.

Robyn: It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Arc. How are you feeling?

I took her hand in mine, and simply replied:

Jaune: I’m doing fine.

There was genuine concern within her voice. Robyn, and I had created an ammoniacal relationship between the two of us. I found her presence calming, and her smile comforting, but more importantly I could use her semblance to gauge my mind’s true feelings. And, based upon the red grow that emanated from our hands. Well, there was much lies to be told.

Robyn: You’re lying, Jaune.

Jaune: To myself, or you? That’s the real question…

Robyn gave me a sad smile as she pulled away, patting my arm as she turned to stand beside her colleagues.

I thought my night with, Willow would have lifted my mood. But, seemingly only on the surface it had been lifted. But, now wasn’t the time for mopping about, or swallowing myself up in rage. I was summoned here for a reason after all. What that was, was the question.

Jaune: So, you wanted to speak with me, General Ironwood? May I assume this is about my work schedule, and teaching documents that I will need? Or, perhaps some individuals have voiced their objections to me becoming a teacher at, Atlas Academy because of various… circumstances.

I cast a cautionary glance to my left, I gazed upon the gaggle of council members currently present. I couldn’t blame them if they objected to my appointment as a teacher, I was a for the better part, a Valian after all, and not an, Atlasian. Many would find pause in that alone. Taking into consideration me being a Grimm/human hybrid, well, I’m still surprised I’m not locked up in another lab getter poked, and proded, again.

James saw through my not so subtle pointed questions, and smiled softly at that, and he shook his head dismissively.

Ironwood: No, no nothing of the sort. This is about something else all entirely.

Jaune: And, that would be?

Ironwood: I, General James Ironwood would like to, on the behave of, Kingdom of Atlas, and Mantle, would like you to offer you a military commission.

The eyebrow over my left eye rose as I looked at him skeptically.

Jaune: You want to buy my services as a mercenary? But, I’m already a Huntsman working for, Atlas Academy. Aren’t I already a mercenary under a contract?

General Ironwood, and the Specialists all looked at me wide eyed for a moment before bursting our in a small fit of laughter. Even, councilwoman, Robyn Hill chuckled at my expense.

Ironwood: Hahaaa… No, Mr. Arc, what I’m saying is that I want to offer you a position as an officer in the, Atlas Military. The process of doing so is called, ‘a military commission.’

My head nodded in understanding at the terminology, but I was nonetheless confused.

Jaune: I understand, but why are you doing this? Don’t I need to serve in the, Atlas Military for a while to become an officer?

Ironwood: Normally yes, however, Hunter’s, such as the, Specialists have, Huntsman level of training, and are a part of the, Atlas Military. This exemption to the rules also applies to you as well, since you were gifted you, Huntsmen license from, Atlas Academy. And, as for why we’re offering you a commission, well there are several reasons.

I could see an almost nervous sense of unease fill the room. I looked towards, Winter, and caught her gazing at me, her eyes quickly darted away from me. I did the same to other members of the, Specialists, and they gave the same distant look, but, Robyn kept her eyes locked with mine unlike the rest. Interesting.

I tore my vision away from, Robyn to look back at, Ironwood, and ask the question he wanted me to ask.

Jaune: And, those reasons would do doubt have to do with, Salem’s attack upon, Mantle, and Atlas, no?

Ironwood: You are correct. We lost a lot of people that day… Mostly soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the defence of, Atlas, and Mantle people. And, while we lost many of the common rank, and file soldiers, we have lost far more officers than we can allow.

I looked at him with a mild sense of confusion, his words didn’t add up. I knew the body count of that day, I knew how many soldiers died, I knew who were the grunts, and who were the officers among that number. I knew how many civilians they saved that day was, and I knew how many they couldn’t save that day. I knew all too well, and I could never forget.

Jaune: Unless I am mistaken the total casualty numbers for the day people have dubbed, ‘The Siege of Atlas,’ was around three hundred, and thirty eight, Of that number, one hundred, and seven were civilians, leaving that count being that there were two hundred, and thirty one casualties sustained by military personnel. Now, not counting the casualties sustained by the, Atlasian Knights, which I believe is around, three hundred, and ninety two. That number of, two hundred, and thirty one only, forty one of them were officers. Now, if we are not counting the nine, Paladin pilots who also lost their lives among that count. Since I assume you are counting officers that were in positions of command, and any soldier who is, ‘Fitted for their suit,’ as the slang goes is gifted the rank of lieutenant upon graduation. So that would leave approximately, thirty two officers who lost their lives in the line of duty. Now I mean to speak no ill of the dead, but is that not considered, ‘An acceptable casualty rating?’

My words may have been as simple as reading a causality report, but the shocked looks I received from those present was odd. It seems like they didn’t expect me to know the exact casualty rates we experienced that day, and based upon how, Ironwood was over looking a series of documents in front of him he couldn’t believe it either.

Ironwood: You are correct, those were indeed the casualty numbers we received that day. And, the number of three hundred, and thirty eight fatalities among the enlisted personnel, the officer core, and civilians is indeed, ‘an acceptable causalty rating.’

: An acceptable casualty rating?!

I looked of to one of the council members, a lady whose name was, Mrs. Alicia Ophilia. She seethed in a cold, and silent rage as she started us down at our seemingly disconcert regards towards the glorious dead.

Alicia: I for one do not consider over three hundred dead civilians, and military personnel as an acceptable casualty rating! How can you be so callous, and emotionless towards such a substantial lose of life?!

Myself, Ironwood, the Specialist, and even, Councillor Hill understood fully well the reason behind her rage. Which made the cold, grim logic behind, Winter’s following words all the more damning on an already weery soul.

Winter: If I may, Mrs. Ophilia. The term: ‘Acceptable casualty rating,’ is an euphemism used by the military, and huntsmen alike to address casualties, or destruction inflicted by an enemy force that is considered minor, or tolerable.

Alicia: Tolerable?

Robyn: Please put it into perspective, Alicia; we lost over three hundred people during the attack, and out of two cities whose total population nears ten thousand, which would you prefer; one thousand dead, or three hundred dead?

Mrs. Ophilia looked at the group of soldiers, and Huntsmen before her, and as she processed the words spoken to her, and gave a heavy sigh as she relented.

Alicia: I concede. You are right: Theee hundred dead is a more… acceptable number… than one thousand dead.

Jaune: While I agree with you, Mrs Ophilia, that one death is one too many, I was actually referring to the casualty rating among the officers, not the total amount of dead. Wouldn’t losing thirty two officers be acceptable, surely there is more than enough soldiers to fill in the holes they departure has created.

Ironwood: That is the case, and those officers positions have been refilled by newly promoted soldiers. I’m afraid to say we lost more than thirty two officers.

Jaune: What? How?!

Shock roared through my voice causing others to jump back from me, I could see, Harriet from the corner of my eye adopting a combative stance. Their shock was understandable, but they mistook my cry of alarm for one of rage. An understandable reaction at the end of the day; I sound like a monster as much as I now look like one.

Jaune: My apologizes. My voice betrays my mood. I am not angry, but shocked that we lost so many officers. But, how did this happen, did we have a sudden, Grimm attack, or something?

Ironwood: We didn’t lose any more officers to the, Grimm after that. We did lose an additional forty seven officers, most of whom were dishonourably discharged afterwards though.

Jaune: Dishonourably discharged?

The confusion laced within my voice was just as loudly heard as the silent rage that echoed from the, Generals.

Ironwood: Yes, you are aware of what a, ‘bought officer,’ is?

Jaune: A corrupt officer?

Ironwood: No… Well it wouldn’t surprise me a few if a few of those officers weren’t taking money on the side to look the other way. But, no, a ‘bought officer’ is a slang for officers who purchase their rank with lien, not years of dedication to, Atlas, and its people.

Jaune: You have such officers in your ranks? That doesn’t seem like something you would allow.

Ironwood: And, I wouldn’t have. But, a contract made by the founders over a hundred years ago said we had too, and it would have taken just under another hundred years ago for it to expire. Luckily, taking in the results recent attack in mind, I was given the ability to remove such a contract, and the filth it brought with it from our ranks.

Jaune: And, the individual reason these officers were removed?

Ironwood: General cowardice: abandoning their post, leaving their men behind, trying to steal military craft to flee, Atlas. Simple things such as that.

Jaune: Ahh, well that certainly explains things…

I could remember seeing individuals fleeing from the frontlines at the beginning of the battle, all wearing officer’s uniforms now that I think about it. I couldn’t pay too much mind to it though, there were too many pressing matters to attend to at the time.

Jaune: And, you want to offer me an officers commission to fill in one of these missing positions?

Ironwood: Yes. You would still be a teacher at the academy, you would just also have an officers rank, and be expected, if the need arise to, to lead troops upon the battlefield.

Jaune: Just like what I did during, Salem’s attack?

Ironwood: Correct.

He wanted me to be an officer. An officer in the, Atlas Military. It sounded like in the end I would just have a change of clothes, and some pretty bobbles on my uniform. But, I looked down to my right hand, and thought hard about his offer. The white bone plate that covered my hand, and the pale skin that rested below it. I wasn’t human anymore, would these soldiers follow my orders into battle? During the, Seige it was different; There were no officers, just soldiers fighting for their lives. I gave them orders, and commanded them to obey my commands, saving thousands in the process. But, that was in the midst of a battle, the largest, and most deadly battle, Atlas had ever experienced. Would these soldiers be willing to follow my orders, the orders of a monster during a time of relative peace?

Ironwood: They recommend you.

Jaune: Excuse me?

I was ripped from my musing at the, Generals words. I was recommended for this position; By who, and why?

Ironwood: Several of the soldiers you fought along side that day were also promoted, and made officers to fill in the ranks. Now we have competent, and skilled officers in our ranks. But, while these officers were being promoted, they often asked the same question: Is the, Hero of Mantle, Jaune Arc joining us?

Jaune: H-Hero of Mantle? Are people calling me that?

Robyn: Its the name the people have given you for your heroic acts for saving them that day.

Jaune: Hero…?

Robyn: Jaune…

I looked up to see that, Robyn was holding my left hand in a comforting grip as she softly smiled at me.

Robyn: Regardless of what you think, people don’t see you as a monster.

Jaune: They don’t?

Robyn: No. People see as a victim of the horrendous acts of a true monster. They see you as a man who risked his life to save them. You are a hero to them, Jaune. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be. You are, Jaune Arc, the Saviour of Mantle.

I couldn’t help, but snort at her words.

Jaune: ‘The Saviour of Mantle.’ Sounds a little much now doesn’t it?

Robyn: Well, it’s shows you how the people truly see you as.

Jaune: But, I’m just a huntsman doing my duty. There’s nothing more to it than that. I

Robyn: But, don’t you like being called a hero?

Jaune: No, not really.

Robyn: You sure about that?

I looked at her skeptically before staring down at my hand enveloped in a red glow. I looked back to, Robyn’s cheeky smile as I swatted her hands away.

Jaune: Stop doing that!

Robyn: Not going to happen.

Jaune: Damn…

Ironwood: So, Mr. Arc, what do you say?

I turned away from, Robyn to address, General Ironwood. I straightened my back, and stood tall before everyone with my hands held firmly behind my back.

Jaune: If, if I accept this offer I would like to make one request.

He quirked, and eyebrow at me, as he straightened his back in turn to address me.

Ironwood: And, that would be?

Jaune: A custom uniform that would fit me properly, and new armour as well. My bodies… alterations have made my armour rather cumbersome to wear.

Ironwood smiled as he took in my simple request.

Ironwood: I think we can do that. Anything else?

Jaune: No that is all. In any case, I humbly accept my commission to… uhh… what rank will I be receiving… Sir?

Ironwood: You can save the ‘sirs’ until after your commission. As for your rank; taking into consideration the deeds you’ve accomplished in the service of, Atlas, and Mantle. We have agreed on giving you the rank of, Colonel.

Jaune: Does this mean I will outrank the, Specialists?

Ironwood: As a matter in fact, you will indeed outrank the, Specialists.

Jaune: Oh good… Now, Marrow can be the one getting me coffee instead… Heheheee…

Everyone seemingly flinched as I chuckled to myself. If, Marrow’s face was saying if he had a pair of ears instead of a tail, they would have dropped in fear.

Jaune: …

Jaune: That did not sound like I was making a teasing remark in the slightest did it?

The resounding choir of nos soon swiftly answered my question.

Jaune: Great, not only did he turn me into a monster, but he took away my ability to make a joke… Godsdamn bastard…

Everyone seemed to find something else to look at, all seemingly not wanting to comment on my feelings towards that particular monster. Like there was anything else to comment on it anyway.

Ironwood: Ahem. The award ceremony where you will be granted your new rank will take place in a week from today. I recommend you get fitted soon, so they can make your new uniform soon.

Jaune: I understand, will that be all?

Ironwood: That’s everything. I look forward to working with, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Likewise, General.

We grasped one another’s hands in a firm handshake, before others came along, and also gave me congratulatory hand shakes as well. The Specialists were open, and receptive to my commission, while Marrow did look nervous as I teasingly smiled at him. Though I doubt it was very teasing, a smile filled with fangs no doubt always looked threatening.

The council members gave me celebratory handshakes as well, they were pleased with my appointment to become a colonel. No doubt for some political bullshit they were planning to use me in.

But, then there was, Robyn.

Robyn: So, Jaune, how does it feel to become an officer in the, Atlas Military?

Jaune: Ask me again when I’ve dawn on the uniform.

Robyn: I’ll have to remember to do that. I’m glad you accepted the offer, the other two council members are actually opposed to your appointment. You no doubt understand why.

I looked towards the other councillors as they addressed, General Ironwood. No doubt talking about future plans, and meetings they must attend to. However, as I looked upon the three of them a thought crossed my mind.

Jaune: Wait… Two votes for, and two votes against? You were the deciding vote.

Robyn: I was, and I voted: For.

Jaune: Why? You don’t trust, General Ironwood, and the military, why would you agree to have me instated in the military?

Robyn: Because I trust you, Jaune. I trust that with your calm head, you will be able to keep the others in check. That with your help we can lead, Mantle into a brighter future for the good of everyone.

Jaune: A brighter future lead by a, Grimm/human hybrid? I find that hard to believe. No, Robyn you are the Bannerman, the one leading others to a brighter tomorrow with hope as your forge a better future. I however, will be the sword that protects that future. I am more suited for that role. Soldiers can easily follow a monster into a war, but not in peace.

Robyn: Jaune, just because you look like a monster doesn’t mean you are a monster.

My head fell as I shook my head. Blind optimism fuelled by hope, I never thought I would miss someone talking like that. At least, Robyn has a realistic head on her shoulders. But, still blind optimism will never help me.

Jaune: We’re all monsters, Robyn. We may not look like ones since we’ve all been well groomed, are well dressed, and given etiquette lessons. Some monsters wear the skin of monsters, others wear the skin of humans. But, it doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day we’re all just monsters, now we’re just well dressed monsters.

Robyn: Well dressed monsters…

Robyn looked away from me as she pondered my words before she shook it away before looking back at me with this mad glint in her eyes.

Robyn: Jaune, are you busy this afternoon?

Jaune: I was going to grab my teaching manifest, and study what I need to be teaching the students. Why do you ask?

Robyn: Class doesn’t start for two weeks, you can put that off until tomorrow. Come with me, there’s a victory celebration being held in, Mantle.

Jaune: A victory celebration? But, the Siege was over a month ago, why are you having one now?

Robyn: The Siege turned everyone’s lives upside down, people needed time to rebuild, to morn those they lost. The people of, Mantle need to let loose, and relax. To let the burdens of, The Siege fade away, so we can all move on from it. So, we’re going to have a massive party to do so. So, would you like to come?

Her logic made sound sense, but I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, I would probably cause a small panic, being a monster, and all. But, the people of, Mantle do call me, ‘The Hero of Mantle,’ so maybe they might actually enjoy me being there. But, I had to ask something very important before I offer her any answer.

Jaune: Will I have to give a speech?

Robyn: No I don’t think you would will have to.

Jaune: I’ll hold you to that.

Robyn: So you’ll come?

Jaune: I will, but don’t expect me to dance.

Robyn: We’ll see about that. Come on, Jaune we have a party to go to.

I hope this will be fun event. a chance to unwind, and relax, just as, Robyn said. But, honestly I just hope this wouldn’t be an event that I would come to regret.

I can at least hope for that right.

Right?

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

"I want to taste you so badly."

Gale may or may not erupt if he doesn't taste his lady. NSFW.

“I want to taste you so badly.” Gale moaned as his lips collided with Martha’s. He had entered her tent not two moments before and immediately rushed to her. She released a low squeak, her thick arms wrapping around his shoulders. Gods, what has gotten into him? He then broke the kiss just as quickly and cupped her round face in his hands. “Please, my love. I need you.”

Martha blinked. “Gale, what—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Let me taste you. Sit on my face. Please.”

WHAT?!!?!? She stepped back, completely aghast. “Oh my gods, no! What if I hurt you?!” I’m taller than him and maybe heavier? “What if I crush your head?!”

Gale’s brown eyes were full of fiery passion when he took her hands in his. “Darling, please consider that I may actually want you to crush my head. But that’s for another night! Tonight, right now…I need to taste you within the next few minutes, or I may,” he swallowed. “Erupt.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The orb is stabilized. You won’t blow up unless you will it.”

Pouting adorably, he whined. “Well, it certainly feels like it, sweetness.” His features then softened, and he reached for one of her hands. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Not if you won’t want to. You know that, yes? I would never, never force myself upon you.”

You are the sweetest man on Toril. Martha smiled, rubbing her thumb over the top of his hand. “I never said I wasn’t interested, love.” The smile turned into a grin. “You simply barged in here and kissed me, demanding that I allow you to taste me. What’s got you all worked up, my handsome wizard?”

The look on Gale’s face nearly made her laugh. He stared at her as if she just asked him what two plus two was, his mouth slightly agape. “You. The very presence of you gets me ‘worked up’ so to speak. Surely you must be aware of the effect you have on me?” A wicked grin then appeared on the wizard’s visage. “Sit on my face and let me taste you…and I will show you just how much I get worked up, my darling girl.”

Another squeak escaped her. “A-alright! I suppose it can’t be too much—”

One of his arms snaked around her waist and pinched her generous behind. “Dearest, you can never be too much.” He murmured with a wink and a teasing smile. My cheeks must be bright red by now because they are burning. Oh my goodness. Giving her ass a little pat, he stepped away from her and began removing his robes. “Truly. I cannot have enough of you, so please don’t ever worry about that.”

She nodded quickly and disrobed. Quickly. Very quickly. Did I lose my balance once or twice? Maybe. Does it matter? No because my lover wants me to SIT ON HIS FACE! “Enough of me in what way?”

“Every way. Every possible way.” He touched his earring and removed his glamour. Now laying down on his bedroll, he motioned for her to come closer. “Sweetest lady, I beg of you---relieve me of my terrible, terrible pain.” he said dramatically as he stroked his engorged length.

Now bare, Martha very, very carefully straddled him and very, very slowly lowered herself as close she could to his mouth. “Are you sure about this, love?”

“For the love of---yes! Be at ease, my beautiful angel, and let me,” he inhaled sharply as his hands found her freckled hips. “Taste. You.” His nose bumped dark copper curls, and then, he began to devour her.

Gods!

Fucking hells!

How does he do that?!?!

She moaned wantonly and could not help the need she had to roll her wide, soft hips, thrusting into his mouth. “O-oh gods, I’m—” I do not want to suffocate my love!!!

Her parasite tingled.

Darling, I love you with all my heart, but do please thrust without fear of harming me. I swear, I am enjoying this greatly. Are you?

AM I?!?!?!

I will take that as a “yes, I am enjoying myself.”

“Gale love, of course I am!” Martha threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut as she reached for his forearms. “Fucking hells…”

The fucking isn’t going on in the hells, my dear. It’s my tongue fucking you right here, right now. You’re right where I want you…where I’ve wanted you for so long…can’t get enough of you…

“G-Gale…” She felt his nails dig into her plush form, and her thrusts grew more erratic by the second.

Sing for me, my pretty! I want to hear it all.

Knowing her end was near, the half-elf clenched her thick thighs as much as I could around Gale’s head. “Gale love, so close…”

Let go, my darling! Let go! I shall soon follow.

Martha’s body spasmed as she came, her hands at some point finding their way into his hair. Pulling harder than I thought oops, she gasped loudly. Hardest I’ve ever come…probably. As he drank her release, he came as well, spilling some on her backside.

“Ah, such a good girl for me…so good…” He panted as she very ungracefully rolled off him and onto her back. Scooting to get head to head with him, she smiled.

“That was very different but absolutely wonderful.” She turned her head to kiss his flushed, bearded cheek. “And you’re alright?”

“Am I alright?! Sweetness, I was in heaven! Heaven on this shadow cursed earth!” He gestured with his hands dramatically but so adorably. “Gods, now do you understand? You are incredible in every way and taste so very…” he planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Yummy.”

Aw, he’s so adorable. “Not too much then, love?” she teased.

With a look of full sincerity on his face, he whispered, “Never.”

[theodditylacey]

cause im not LGBTQIA (potentially bi curious but idk so no for now) but like i dont want her to be straight?? it dosent feel right for her character but i didnt know if its okay for me to make her LGBTQIA without being that myself

idk if im being disrespectful I JUST DONT WANT HER TO BE STRAIGHT IT DOSENT MAKE SENSE

atting moots who know my ocs: @daystarpoet, @soft-likethesunset, @glxsyymads, @toooster