#(though the content I do find is sublime)

[fiddlersgray]

Lucienne does NOT!! get enough love around here(besides some very dedicated fans I do see you and love you). like aren’t you people curious about her? she started out as Dream’s raven, what made her become a librarian? was she once a mortal like Matthew, or was she something else? what kind of books does she read? how was she running everything for like a hundred years while Dream was fishbowled? you get all this meta abt other characters but people seem not to think abt Lucienne(and I suppose by extension Lucien) that much, it depresses me

[tragedybunny]

Sunlight and Stars in the Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

I've been at this so long I'm not even sure if it is any good, but it's as finished as it will get I suppose. It ventured into angst a little more than I had planned and I'm thinking there may be a part two. But anyway, here's the end up with the nicknames they use for each other in my other fics.

The Githyanki Creche is not the promised salvation and you deal with it by trying to drink your problems away. Astarion ends up taking care of you and starts to deal with his feelings and the fallout of his actions.

Unsteady footsteps came up behind him as he stood by the dying fire, in another life that would make you a perfect target. “‘Starion,” you said in a little sing-song voice from behind him. 

“Yes, my Sweet,” turning, he’s already wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. From the footsteps he could tell you���d been drinking. The Githyanki Creche hadn’t turned out to be the salvation you had hoped for. Some of your companions were taking it worse than others, Lae’zel was in her tent, talking to no one, and you, you were piss drunk. 

“I hate this,” you lean into his chest and despite the grim reality, he feels an odd sense of contentment. 

“I’m sure nobody is particularly enjoying the moment but-” He was cut off as your lips started to kiss their way along his collarbone.

“You know what could make it better…” Teeth suddenly nip him and he jumps involuntarily while you giggle, you put him on edge lately for some reason. “A quick little tumble in the bedroll.” 

Just the thought of taking you in this state of inhibition, so little control over yourself, makes his stomach turn. A small part of him asks if you ever have control given his lies, viciously he kicks that part back down. “Not tonight, my little Snack, you are far too drunk.” 

The pout you reply with is impressive. “Aw, don’t you like me anymore?” Despite your clear inebriation, the words are like a blow and he’s lost for a moment. 

“Of course I do.” Instinctively, he pulls you closer, only for your fingers to start fumbling with his trousers. Gently he takes your hands and holds them away from himself. “Alright, I think it's clear you need some water and to lay down." 

"I'm fine." You push away from him and wobble dangerously before ending up on your butt in the dirt. "Ow," dejectedly, you stay where you landed until your shoulders quiver and he worries tears are next. 

Sighing, he reaches down and scoops you up in his arms, looking you over to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. "How about a deal Darling," he can't believe what he's about to say, "you agree to lay down nicely and get some sleep and I'll let you stay in my tent tonight?" 

"Really? You never…" The two of you have never shared space for more than a perfunctory few minutes after sex, and usually Astarion very much prefers it that way. But you're a drunk emotional mess and you just seem to need him and that small part of him that he keeps pushing away wants to help you. "I don't want to, gods what's the word, im-im-"

"Impose?" The way you nod silently without looking up plants a strange sensation in his chest. "Don't be silly, you're my partner aren't you? How could you be imposing?" Softly he kisses your forehead and starts toward his tent. 

As he settles you gingerly among his blankets you look around with wide eyes as though surprised to be here. "It's so red," you giggle before slowly laying back and staring at him as he gently removes your boots. 

At least you had ceased your attempt at erotic pursuits for the moment. "I'll get you some water, you need to stay up long enough to drink it." 

It only takes a few moments for him to retrieve your waterskin from your tent and return to find your eyes shut. He takes a brief second to just watch the way your chest rises and falls and the sublimely peaceful expression on your face. "Sweetheart," kneeling down next to you, he holds out the waterskin, "you need to drink some water." 

Eyes slowly open and you sit up, making a little whining noise. "Fine." Taking the waterskin, you drink most of it in one go before lying back on your side facing him. "Happy?"

Your sudden aggressive tone makes him chuckle, of course he's seen you fight, but right now you're as threatening as a lost kitten. "You'll feel better for it in the morning, I promise." 

"Mmm," already your eyes are closing again. "Lay next to me?"

The soft plea feels irresistible despite knowing he's feeding you another pretty lie and he shouldn't encourage this. If only you weren't so damnably kind to him all the time; his sweet sunny little half-elf, even from the moment you met, trying to help a stranger kill an Intellect Devourer; he wouldn’t feel so odd about everything. You’d fed him when he’d tried to bite you during your sleep, stood up for him after, protected him from the Gur, and listened to every rant and complaint with an open mind. Even during sex, you tried so hard to please him, to make him feel good too, readily experimenting with anything new, and offering up your throat time and again. The mask must have slipped a few times because once you’d very embarrassedly asked him after the act if you were a bad lover. He’d tried so hard to reassure you he was just having a bad day, afterall, it wasn’t your fault he couldn’t feel the same pleasure, but you still looked so sad for a long while afterward.

Cuddling up close to you, he wraps you both in his blankets, arms enfolding you, and can’t help but notice how perfectly you fit next to him, head tucked under his chin, like you were made to be there. Gods, what’s wrong with him? He lays a delicate kiss on the sensitive little tip of your pointed ear and you hum contendly. “Happy now, my little bit of Sunlight?” The pet name slips off his tongue, surprising even himself. 

“Does that still mean I’m irritating,” you mumble softly and he puzzles over it before remembering. 

Another moment of kindness from you. One of the first days after the Nautiloid, he’d seated himself so far away from everyone at the campfire, he was practically in the shadows when you came to sit next to him. “You can come closer to the fire Astarion, you don’t have to keep so separate.” 

“I’m fine,” he’d snapped at you, panicking that anyone was so near to him so soon after escaping Cazador’s endless cruelty. Your mouth opened to answer back and he’d cut you off. “I said I’m fine, hells, you’re as irritating as the scorching summer sunlight.” You’d backed off but not before he’d seen the hurt in your eyes. The compliment feels as though it turned to ash in his mouth at the memory, he wishes he could take that night back. There's a lot of moments from those first days he wishes the same of. 

“That was a very strange couple of days for me,” his fingers find your hair of their own accord and start brushing through it. “But no, I mean you’re bright and warm and beautiful,” and not meant for creatures like me, he adds silently. “Like Sunlight.” 

Eyes opening, you tilt your head back to look up and study him for a moment, unexpectedly lucid. “And you're as wondrous and amazing as the whole night sky full of stars, and worth any bit of darkness.” 

The words leave him stunned as you close your eyes and settle back against him. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Of course I do, my Starry Sky,” you punctuate it with a kiss on his neck before drifting back in your half-asleep state. 

There's an urge to retch and cry at the same time, what a farce he’s made of your affection. He holds you tighter, as if that could undo any of what he’s done. You deserve the truth, he knows that, but not tonight, because once you know, you'll despise him. A few more days, to soak you up, just like sunlight, and then he’ll slip back into the darkness he deserves, where there’s nothing to warm him. 

[nikethestatue]

A Ballad of Sorrow and Love

Please enjoy my contribution to this year's Elriel Month. Please be advised this is HIGHLY EXPLICIT. No one under 18 should read this story. This will be a 3 part story.

TW: Extreme sexual content, graphic violence, language, death

NOT RECOMMENDED for those with sensitive dispositions. Not recommended to be read in public. Not recommended to be read in the company of others.

The first part is pure, graphic smut which includes but not limited to domination, submission, choking, rough language, rough sex, wing penetration, anal, vaginal, oral, triple penetration and more.

_____________

Part I:

Death and His Lovely Fawn

This very moment was Azriel’s favourite, and therefore he chose to savour it every time. 

The thick, bulbous head of his cock, slowly circling his girl’s tight little hole. He taunted her with it, his veiny long shaft gripped in his scarred hand, teasing her and keeping her on edge. The tiny pink hole quivered in anticipation and apprehension, as if knowing what was about to happen to it. But his Ellie was his good girl and she’d take it without complaint. She always took everything he gave her without a murmur of protest: welcoming and acquiescent. His Ellie submitted to him so beautifully and that always brought a lustful smile to his lips, and a warming sense of comfort enveloped him whenever he saw her, eager and ready to receive him.

She was so gorgeous beneath him, her soft belly folding on into itself, her breaths ragged and anxious. Her pale heavy breasts rose and fell with each breath and her brown eyes watched him unblinkingly. She licked her lips, watching and waiting. He was in no hurry though, dipping the tip of his cock into her wet opening and making her hiss a breath, though he only did it to keep her on edge. 

“You were a bad girl, Ellie,” he murmured to her, shaking his head, “making me worry for your safety like that.”

When they went on missions, when he meted his punishments, when it was time for him to be judge and executioner, his Elllie was right next to him, unflinching and regal, quiet and deadly–his sublime dark princess. However, just as she worried about him, he was even more concerned about her. Her safety, her well-being, her whole existence were the only things that tethered him to this life, to his Court, to his family. Without his Elain, life was meaningless and Azriel had learned this simple fact long ago. He lived for his princess, and she lived and walked with him, and at his side, no matter what life threw at them.

He was a cold and deviant male, his soul as dark as the shadows that swirled around him. Elain though, she was his sun, his light, his hope, the one who never judged him and never stepped away from him. Even when he was drenched in the blood of their enemies. Even when he was cruel and violent and descended upon his helpless adversaries like a storm cloud. Ellie knew her place. And it was with him, with her prince. She guided him and was loyal to him and to his cause, and she ruled alongside him in their kingdom of obsidian, firelight and night-blooming jasmine. 

Their roles were clear and long-established–in their marriage, he fucked her, and she submitted and she screamed and she asked him for more. And it was perfect. 

“Do you want to be filled, princess?” he asked, looking between her legs and watching her little hole twitch in anticipation. “I will ride you very hard,” he warned. She nodded shyly, knowing that there was no escaping him or his desires. She was going to be ridden, and he chuckled, adding, “keep those cheeks nice and open for me. If you take me well, I will keep you on my cock for the night.”

She smiled her sweet, luminous smile at him and nodded. He kept her on his cock every night: this was something he expected of her. Sometimes, she fell asleep holding him in her mouth, sucking sleepily and lightly on him all through the night. If she ever moved away from him, he made sure to find her pretty mouth and pump it a little, so she remembered not to release him even for a second. In the morning, he gave her his seed at last. By then, she was so desperate for it, she sucked greedily and sloppily on him, even before he was fully awake. His cock was never left long without her attention. Their life, their love was always just as it should’ve been. 

“Suck a little,” he ordered, as he swung over her and closer to her mouth, “make it ready for your pretty pink asshole so I can get in there and ruin it.”

Before she could say anything, he pushed the heft of his shaft between her waiting lips and sunk deep all at once. She choked on him, breathing heavily, but he didn’t care if she gasped or gagged. In fact, he preferred it. He liked it when she became messy for him–drunk on his seed, on his cock, saliva and tears streaking her face, her hair tangled, her skin flushed and bruised. He straddled her chest, and held the back of her head in his hand, gripping the base of his dick in his available hand and guiding it in and out of her mouth. 

“That’s good, Ellie,” he murmured his approval. “That’s good…Work for your pleasure, girl,” he urged her, watching his tattooed cock disappear in and out her mouth. She slurped all over his heavy dick, while he fucked her steadily, dipping into her throat and watching his cockhead bulge inside and protrude against her neck. 

“No one sucks cock like you, princess,” he complimented her and she blushed her lovely rosy blush, smiling over his shaft. “Gods, I love filling your mouth…all your holes, but your mouth is delicious…sucking me so well. Let me get down your throat, sweet girl,” he adjusted himself above her, and began plunging in her mouth in earnest. She was moaning, struggling beneath him, her sharp nails digging into his thighs and he relished in the pain that she offered him. His hips pistoned smoothly in and out of her mouth, rubbing against her tongue, pushing as deep as he could go, which was all the way. He loved feeling her little nose pressing into his pelvis, sliding against his stomach while he was buried in her throat. 

“Suck, princess,” he ordered, “suck your lord’s cock.”

He was thrusting hard and steady, watching her eyes roll back in her head, and she softened into the mattress of their marital bed, her breathing shallow as she fell into the sensation of bliss that he was offering. She was no longer so much as sucked him, but became a willing vessel for him to push his hungry cock into, her mouth and throat open to his rough thrusting. 

“Doing so well, my princess,” he caressed her damp cheek, while his movements became more punishing and he groaned,  “I can’t stop right now. Drink up,” and he pumped harder, before shuddering with his violent release and spilling his seed in her mouth. He held his cock firmly inside, watching her swallow and drink his cum. Her small, hot hands gripped his buttocks and she held onto him, latching hard on his dick and sucking hungrily. He smiled at her enthusiasm and stroked her head. “I have plenty for you, sweetness,” he assured her. “You can have as much as you like.” She wanted all of it, as she finally swallowed the very last bit and then began licking his cock, cleaning him up. He leaned back on her chest, enjoying her thorough, dedicated work, lazily pushing in and out of her cum-smeared lips.

“Keep licking,” he encouraged. “I love watching you, my beautiful girl. My Princess.”

He let her lick for a while longer, always hard for her, but her pretty ass needed to be fucked and he was ready for his favourite hole of hers. Holding his cock in her mouth, he shifted back and stood by the edge of the bed, while she got on her hands and knees. Cupping his balls in his hand, he pushed her face lower and then squeezed one between her lips. She licked on the pouch readily, before she proceeded to suck one ball after another. He smiled. Always so eager to please him. Gods, he fucking loved her. Loved her more than he thought possible. More than it was comprehensible.

She covered his ballsack with wet, deep kisses, always thanking him for giving her his cum–as if he’d ever deny her! Everything that he was, and everything that he had–it was all for her. Every drop of his seed, every kiss, his hands and his touch, his tongue, his lips–she had it all. He cupped her chin and cheek, so he could tilt her face the way he wanted to, and after a bit of work and adjusting, he squeezed his entire ballsack in her mouth. He gagged and grunted breathlessly, her mouth completely overflowing with him, but he firmly clasped her face in his hand, making her suck his balls. She gripped his hips, holding onto him while he instructed, “eyes on me, princess. Ass up.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks from her stunningly beautiful watery-eyes and he thumbed them, before bringing his thumb to his lips and licking the salt of her tears.

She curved her back for him, thrusting her round fabulous ass up, while she watched him, seeing his approval for the ball sucking that she was giving him.

Her wet hot tongue worked over each ball, licking and laving, rubbing against the seam in between, all the while managing to keep the whole pouch inside. 

“Who is my perfect girl?” he asked, indulging her efforts by pulling on her ripe, thick nipples and twisting them between his fingers. She whimpered, her heavy tits hanging low to the mattress, filling his hand nicely, as he continued to twist and rub her nipples, squeezing them until she cried out against his balls. 

“You are doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised, “sucking my balls like that.”

She blinked at him, wanting more. He lazily drew his shaft over her face, watching her closely.

His incredible wife. 

The love of his long, rotten, miserable life. 

Everything was wrong, until he saw her, still a human woman, in a cobalt gown.

These days, she loved walking next to him, down the spacious, imposing hallways of their Court, in her black silken gowns, strings of diamonds and pearls draped over her neck and her arms, the silk whispering its own secret song to his shadows. Her delicate lovely hand always lying over his forearm, his strength supporting his cherished wife, while she leaned into him, but also led them forward. They always balanced each other–his strength to her wisdom, his brutality to her unwavering sense of justice, his loyalty to her power. And as their courtiers greeted them, as they met with dignitaries and emissaries of other Courts, she dripped his cum out of her well-used openings. 

Their Court was unique–traditional, ancient, full of magic and impregnated with unimaginable power. How he loved Calanmai and how he loved taking her in front of their Court. She was shy at first–after they were wed and after the Power shifted to her and to him and they took their rightful places as the Prince and Princess of the Court of Nightmares, the Power demanded that the old Order be re-established. That meant that when Calanmai came, the Princess was expected to take her Prince’s seed in order to revive their Court, year after year. Nothing was more beautiful than his Princess walking down the Great Hall towards him, completely naked, thousands of pairs of eyes watching her every move. Her breasts swayed heavily, her sex on full display. He waited for her by their black throne, ready for her to kneel at his feet, offering him herself and her loyalty. And then he lifted her and placed her on the black throne, and kneeled at her feet, indicating their equal status and his devotion to her. Then it was up to the Princess to spread her legs for the Prince, offer him her womb to seed and take him inside of her in front of the Court. By the gods, did he love spreading that pussy in front of everyone with his cock, filling her fully and then hammering into her until she writhed like a mad woman on that black stone throne. Though she didn’t have to, it was his Ellie who took up a new custom of kissing his balls in gratitude after he was finished with her. He didn’t mind it at all. 

Now, she kissed and licked his balls every time he came inside of her. And frankly, as she should have. As she was doing right now, still occupied with sucking and licking on his ballsack. He watched her proudly, her stunning face peeking from under his hard cock, her lips wrapped around his balls. 

“Good girl,” he urged her on, “keep going like that, sweetheart. I can’t wait to fuck your little ass, my favourite ballsucker.” 

She laughed at that, and he patted her head. Then, leaning over her, he harshly spread her ass cheeks, pulling them apart until the tight hole puckered. At the sight of it, his wings flared with excitement, and he grabbed the left claw in his hand and pressed it into her hole. The claw was thick and blunt, a curved piece of smooth bone with nerve endings all over it. It was annoyingly sensitive at times, especially when he was aroused, and his wings filled with blood just like his dick. He tapped her asshole with the claw, pushing just a bit inside, only enough to feel his Ellie pause her sucking and still between his legs. 

“Did I say you can stop?” he asked sternly, and pushed the claw a bit deeper inside her ass. She moaned against his balls, breathing loudly. Azriel smiled to himself. Ellie could suck his cock, lick his balls and lave his own anus for hours if he wanted her to. She knew that it was her duty to please him, just like he pleased her. And she loved nothing more than to please him, care for him, adore him, service him…because as impossible as it was, but she loved him just as much as he loved her. Her devotion to him was complete. She loved him deeply and obsessively, on par with his own blind, fanatical adoration of her. 

Easily, he flipped her back on her back and raised her legs high in the air, pressing them together. Her lips were swollen from all the sucking she’s been doing, and she looked ready and wanton, eager to be taken. He wrapped his fingers around both of her ankles, smashing her under her legs and not caring. She was used to it and she could take it. Her pussy lips closed, but the hole was still perfectly visible, just like he wanted. The other hole winked at him impatiently, so tiny, it was almost a sin to think that he’d be sinking his whole massive shaft into it in about a minute. His girl was tense, knowing that the pain was about to come, secretly wanting it, yet still fearing it. She never knew how he was going to take her. Sometimes, he was slow and gentle, and worked her hole open with great care and patience. Sometimes, he rammed into her hard and made her cry out and whine and beg him to slow down. Other times, he took her by surprise and pushed his whole length into her tight channel in one brutal shove. Often, he began thrusting immediately, not letting her adjust and enjoying the sight of her struggle. And other times, he pushed to the end, and then emptied completely, forcing dozens of deep, savage penetrations into her poor rectum. 

Elain knew who she married when she married him. He was a hard, determined, unforgiving, fearsome male. He loved her, but he was a rough and demanding lover. He used her to the fullest whenever he wanted, and expected her to comply enthusiastically. 

He grabbed his cock and slapped her slit harshly, making her cry out pitifully. He did it again and again, slapping her pussy with his cock and his hand, spanking it roughly and mercilessly. She jerked and bounced on the bed with each hit, her toes curling from the pressure. 

Without warning, he squeezed her ankles harder and pressed his cockhead into her anus. His piercing snagged on the tight rim of her hole, and she winced, as he worked his cock deeper, pushing through the resistance. She wailed softly, biting her lips and squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Princess, you look so pretty with my cock in your ass,” he laughed a delighted laugh and then slapped her buttock playfully. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but you are opening so well for me. You are so tight and hot–it feels incredible.” He decided to be a little gentler than usual–just a little–and screwed his dick into her amazingly snug hole with some consideration. He needed to reward her for sucking him off as well as she did, but also punish her ass for putting herself in danger on their last mission. 

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like worrying about her. Their enemies were many, and powerful too. He didn’t want to put her in danger, but she was always with him, no matter where he went and what he did, therefore, it was inevitable that she’d be exposed to a slew of threats. 

The punishment for lack of care and disobedience, especially on their missions, was usually something sexual. And Azriel’s deviant mind was never short of ideas. She both loved it, and feared it. Sometimes, it was as mild as him bending her over, and forcing a thick, and uncomfortably big butt plug in her ass and then having her meet dignitaries, dance, socialise and dine with them, while the thing stretched and tortured her rectum. Inevitably, he’d pull her into some corner of their palace, lift up her skirt and while guests and courtiers were just behind the wall or a drape, he’d pull the plug out. Then she’d receive a quick, hard fuck, and forced to remain quiet while he pumped her ass full of cum. He’d leave her unsatisfied and high strung, before placing the plug back in. Then, she spent the rest of the evening aching, overfilled, her anus hurting, while her passage was full of seed and ivory. 

His favourite ‘punishment’ was to have her in his office, or at a reception, kneeling under a desk or a table, holding his huge cock in her mouth for hours. She’d have to be quiet, so as not to alert others to her presence, and her only nourishment for a few of those hours consisted of his cum, after he allowed her to suck him off. 

Azriel was a sexual sadist–-appropriate, he supposed, for the Prince of Hewn City–and he enjoyed inflicting sweet torturous sexual pain on his girl. Thankfully, his girl craved submission and certainly did not mind a bit of pain along with it.

Azriel kept forcing his shaft deeper and deeper into her, while she clutched the sheets on their bed in her hands, her back bowing deeply, as she took him in. Her pretty nose was scrunched from the pressure and she was wincing and moaning, watching Azriel’s satisfied expression. And satisfied he was. Opening her lush ass up with his dick was pleasure unlike any other. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he cursed, his voice gutteral and hoarse even to his own ears. He squeezed her ankles in his hands so hard, he knew he’d leave a mark, and then placed her legs on his shoulders, freeing his hands. He was trying not to blow his load immediately, though it was tempting. It’s not like he wouldn’t get hard almost instantly after he came, but he wanted to hold back and really wreck her perfect ass. 

She cried out and shook beneath him, her little hands pressing against his hips as if trying to push him back–which was adorable. Instead, he wrapped her arm around her fleshy soft thighs on his shoulder and leaned in, a wicked smile on his lips. 

“Opening for me like a flower,” he marvelled, looking between their bodies, watching her rim ripen and stretch around his dark shaft. He kissed her ankles and slapped her soft tit lightly, twisting her nipple until she screamed quietly. Clearly she was struggling today, his penetration more painful and uncomfortable than usual–which happened sometimes, particularly because she wasn’t prepared well–so he decided to take marginal pity on her. Catching his claw in his hand, he pulled his wing down and whispered, “open up, sweetness”. Obediently, Elain opened her mouth and wrapped her hands around the base of the claw, licking it with wide, hot swipes of her tongue.

“That’s a good girl!” Azriel approved, a shiver wracking his body from the dual stimulation. Her ass moved on his cock, as she settled in and relaxed her rectum in order for him to get deeper. Azriel sighed with enjoyment, watching her busy herself with his claw as he pumped in her tight passage, bottoming out at last. She groaned and winced, fully penetrated with his hot dick lodged in her ass, while sucking on his claw nervously. 

“Watch me as you suck, princess,” he reminded her, needing to see every expression of pain and pleasure on her delicate features. “You want your hole open nice and wide, right?”

She nodded eagerly, licking the tip of the claw, which was just as sensitive as his cockhead. Azriel placed one foot on the bed, giving himself better purchase, pulled the lips of her pussy wide apart with his finger, so he could see her pink, glistening slit and began fucking her ass roughly, with deep, hard strokes of his cock. She stilled, shocked into instant subservience by the barrage of his harsh pumps, squeezing his cock with her strong muscles, pulling it deeper inside with every thrust. 

“Fits well?” he winked at her, and she nodded, her body docile and soft, taking all of his cock obediently in her ass. Despite her cries and feeble protests, Azriel pushed a finger into her asshole, widening it even further, rubbing his thumb over the swollen, red rim, as he fucked her relentlessly. She was panting and screaming, damp with sweat, her tits bouncing wildly from how hard he was using her. “How about another?” he proposed, and before she could utter another protestation, he stuffed her mouth with his claw, making her suck on it. Meanwhile, he slowly inserted another finger into her anus, kissing her ankles and her foot, whispering, “you going to gape for me, treasure? I love this hole nice and wide open after I come in it. I want you leaking my cum tomorrow and I want the servants to know how well you were ridden by your lord.” He rubbed his fingers alongside his shaft inside of her, his thumb circling the rim for her enjoyment. But, today, he was in for a long ride, and because it took her a while to come from anal, he opted to start with that. He was going to savage her ass before he was going to allow her to climax.

Gods, he loved fucking his wife. 

It was a tight squeeze in her ass, with his dick and two fingers inside of her, but fuck, how he loved stretching her. He wiggled his fingers inside of her as much as he could in the tight heat of her passage and she shuddered and trembled, slobbering over the claw in her mouth. He didn’t stop, because he didn’t want to stave off her orgasm, which was barreling forth if the squeezing of her rectum was anything to go by. She deserved it. He’s used her hard and extensively today, and he wasn’t nearly done. But she deserved to come on his cock. 

“Come, sweetness,” he coaxed, “come on my dick. Come on my fingers. Look at me as you break.”

Her big brown doe eyes blinked, as she rubbed his claw in her fist, pumping it in her mouth, sucking on it, saliva spilling on her chin. 

“Work your ass on me, sweetheart. Show me how much you want it. Use my cock to get your ass off,” and she pushed down on him impatiently, moaning loudly, her head thrown back and her nipples sharp and puffy atop of her jolting tits. 

He watched her and let her do her thing for a moment, as she fucked herself on his thick dick, uncaring about the pain and the discomfort. But then it was time for him to take matters into his own hands and he began thrusting in her ravenously, his beastly nature overcoming his Fae self and his dark monster rising to the top and fluttering against his skin. The beast demanded more–never satisfied, never tired. While Elain screamed and cursed as her climax shook her body, he didn’t ease up his pounding. 

“I have to take all the holes,” he said by way of explanation, almost apologetically, as he grabbed his available wing and squeezed the base of the claw. She tensed, readying herself with this new invasion, gasping loudly for air, a sheen of sweat covering her brow and her chest. “Spread your legs, princess,” he ordered impatiently, “and hold them under your knees. Give me your tender pretty pussy to ride.”

She licked her lips, still and tight beneath him, the only motion between the two of them being his cock gliding in and out of her asshole. It wasn’t necessary, because she was already drenched, but Azriel spit in her pink slit and then slowly, but firmly eased his curved claw inside her welcoming opening. He worked the claw meticulously, feeding bit by bit into her, sinking into the blissful wet heat. He ignored her cries and teary whimpers, pushing the claw deeper and deeper, feeling his own scorching hot dick in her ass rubbing through the thin membrane. 

He leaned forward, his move causing both his cock and the claw to sink fully inside both of her holes and cupped her cheeks between his hands. 

“I love you. And I love it when you are double-penetrated. You are so beautiful. My lovely, perfect wife. My love.”

He wiped the tears that were slipping from her eyes and closed his own eyes, savouring the delicious, incredible sensation of being in both of her holes at once. Double penetration was never easy, but she took it willingly and allowed him to invade both of her tight passages whenever he wanted. And he wanted it pretty much all the time. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever compare to have his aching dick and his sensitive, tingling claws inside his wife at once. Wrapping his scarred palms over her silky, soft breasts he asked, “ready?”. She exhaled deeply, preparing herself and then nodded once. 

“Good girl. Letting her husband use her so well, letting him ride all her holes,” he cooed, forcing his wing to slide in and out of her pussy. He let her adjust, playing with her nipples, while she clawed at her forearms, still dazed and pained by the double penetration and wiggling her hips to get into a better position. While she tried to slow him down, he began thrusting in her ass again, pounding into her pussy at the same time, before bringing his other claw back to her lips. 

“That’s what good girls do,” he continued rambling, as he bottomed out in both of her holes again and again, “they let their husbands use them and their pretty holes, and get ridden hard and often. Fuck, treasure...you are so full of me! All your holes are stretched to the brim, but you are taking it so well.”

She was a vision, splayed in front of his eyes, her thighs open, having compliantly fallen to accommodate him. The rim of her asshole was swollen and red, and he watched his dick all but completely buried inside as he drilled her with short, powerful thrusts. The claw pumped in tandem to his cock, and he pushed it all the way inside of her, so that the smooth ivory disappeared entirely in her hole. Inside of her, he could feel the movement of both appendages, which was blowing his mind. He squeezed and pinched her nipples, while she sucked his other claw. He fucked her steadily and without pause for a while, finally coming inside her ass once, but he didn’t bother stopping or even pausing his thrusting. She was so compliant, completely unresisting, loving how he rode her so ferociously, that he didn’t dare change anything. He desperately wanted to see how big she’d gape for him with her used and abused anus, but he figured that she could take at least one more load of his cum in there before he pulled out.

“Do you want to ride me, princess?” he asked. Without interrupting her licking and sucking, she shook her head no. It wasn't surprising. His Ellie liked to be dominated in bed, and rarely took initiative to be on top of him. Unless he placed her on his dick and made her ride, she preferred him on top of her in any position. When it came to penetration, it was usually entirely his choice–where, how, how many holes and whether he wanted to be rough, or gentle. Her initiative was always with her mouth–she found the places she wanted to lick or suck or worship with her tongue and she went to work on him and his body. 

Before she could come, he withdrew and flipped her over, and she flopped on her front like a ragdoll. He shoved her legs wide apart and spread her thighs, positioning himself between them. Impatiently, he splayed her ass cheeks apart and whistled loudly. “Fuck. Me,” was all he could manage, as he watched with fascination the wide open hole that he’d drilled into her. He slapped both of her buttocks and told her, “I can see inside you, sweetness. Your asshole is full of cum, but I can see how tender and pink and pretty you are inside.”

He rubbed his dick urgently, eager to get back inside. 

“Your pussy needs my cum,” he decided. “I am going to fuck it now,”

She nodded obediently, knowing that he was going to put it in whatever hole he fancied at the moment.

He sunk into the tightness of her pussy in one strong, unwavering shove, filling her completely. Propping himself above her, he began fucking her hard and frantically, leaning closer and biting her neck. She mewled and sighed with pleasure, closing her eyes and enjoying the painful bite and the demanding pounding her pussy was receiving. He came inside of her quickly, filling her up, and then kneeled behind her and pulled her down by the hips, keeping his cock fully encased in her gloriously went centre. Spreading her cheeks apart, he then plunged his claw in her ass and used his hand to guide his thrusts, hammering the claw into her, while he began pumping her pussy with renewed enthusiasm. He wrapped his free hand around her neck and murmured into her ear, “I am going to choke you, sweetness, alright? I want you coming in both holes as I am choking you. When I am ready, I am going to come in your mouth so you can drink.”

He rubbed her neck in his huge hand and squeezed lightly. Whenever he took away her air, Elain orgasmed like she was possessed. The lack of oxygen made her climaxes last for minutes, and she trusted him to do it just right–squeeze hard enough for her to almost pass out, but not so tight that she didn’t feel the avalanche of her orgasms sweeping over her. Moving smoothly in her ass and her pussy, he squeezed her throat, careful to monitor how she responded and how her inner muscles tightened around him with every squeeze. He eased or increased the pressure of his fingers, while sliding his tongue in her mouth and making her suck on it. 

She was bleary-eyed and exhausted, her limbs soft and malleable, her holes succumbing to his savage thrusting, her breaths quiet and sharp. She just clutched her cheeks open for him, widening her hole for the claw as much as she could, but in these pre-orgasmic minutes she existed only for him and for his savagery. 

She came in her pussy first, crying and screaming loudly, bouncing beneath him as she shook and jerked, her passage spasming along his shaft. He fucked her through it, and then quickly withdrew and pushed her face in his lap, thrusting his wet dick in her mouth. 

“Suck until you come in your ass. I won’t give you any cum until you come all over my claw.”

-

Elain was standing by the mirror, putting in her earrings. She was completely naked, but she usually was in their Moon Palace, where they resided when they weren’t in Hewn City. In her Court, she usually wore slinky, flowing gowns, which enveloped her shapely body like second skin. Black or pearl-cream silk was her favourite. For formal occasions, she usually chose something with black and cobalt, the colours of her House and her husband. 

The Moon Palace was heated with magic, and only had three servants, while everything else was sustained by spells and various kinds of cardinal magic. Azriel’s responsibility centred around shields and wards, while Elain took care of everything else. 

Azriel was almost dressed, with only his suit jacket still draped over the chair. Elain would’ve been too, but he spent half an hour admiring the gaping hole of her ass, casually fingering her anus which was brimming with his cum. Then he dropped to his knees behind her and began licking her asshole like a man possessed. She had no other choice but to lean over the sink on her elbows and thrust her ass at him, while he licked the cum out of her. Once he was finally satisfied and she was messy from two orgasms, he let her dress. 

It was their weekly dinner at Rhysand and Feyre’s tonight, and while Azriel would’ve preferred to stay home, cook dinner and enjoy it with his wife, he knew that his brother would be disappointed if they didn’t show up. 

-

…Rhys and Cassian were lounging in the sitting room, enjoying brandy and the heat of the fireplace. 

“Az!” Rhysand greeted him. “You came!”

“Alright brother?” Cassian offered an easy nod.

“Alright,” Azriel responded in his usual laconic manner, before finding his usual seat in a large armchair. Elain sat next to him and he wrapped his arm around her.

“Anyone fancy greeting my wife?” he snapped.

Rhys pursed his lips, but inclined his head and nodded. “Good evening, Elain.”

Cassian waved a little wave. “Petal”.

Azriel wrapped his arms tighter around his wife’s soft form and watched Rhys sip his drink.

“Anything to report?” Cassian asked again.

Azriel nodded and said, “I think we’ve discovered who is responsible for setting fire to all the trade ships in the ports,”

Rhys perked up and leaned in, “You did?”

Azriel did not serve the High Lord in the same way he did before becoming the Prince of the Court of Nightmares, since he was now a Lord in his own right. However, for especially difficult espionage cases and information gathering, Rhys still relied on his former spymaster for help. Azriel didn’t mind it. He and his Ellie investigated cases together, and he loved spending that time together with her. Besides, she always liked to travel, and it allowed them the opportunity to visit various countries on the Continent. 

“So what? Talk to me!”

“We’ll have to check further,” Azriel stated vaguely. He hated giving incomplete information, but Rhys was always too eager and impatient.

“Can you give me a preliminary assessment?” Rhys insisted, his voice stern. It didn’t work on Azriel–the compulsion of the High Lord’s voice–which he used on others. Azriel had his own compulsion. 

“Rogue Fae who live in the Human Lands,” he explained. “Rebels, who are attempting to sow discord between the humans and the Prythian Fae. They are making it look like,”

“We are doing it,” Cassian concluded. “Prythian’s Fae, from above the former Wall,”

“Exactly,” Azriel agreed. 

The door opened and Nesta strolled in. 

“Oh, boy talk,” she scoffed.

“Male talk, Nes,” Cassian corrected his prickly mate. “Male.”

“Uh uh,” she muttered and made her way to Azriel and said, “Nice to see you, Az!” before stooping to kiss the top of his head. “Lainey girl, how are you?” she asked, kissing her sister as well. “I’ve missed you. You treating her well, Az?”

Rhys and Cassian watched her in silence, their expressions stony and sad somehow. 

“We are so good, Nesta,” he assured her. “My Ellie is very happy. Aren’t you, sweetness?”

“I overheard the last part of your conversation,” Nesta told them, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “Am I going on this mission with Az then?”

Azriel waved his hand, “I don’t think it’s necessary. Elain and I will do just fine. Won’t we, princess?”

Rhys interrupted them and said, “I think it might be prudent to go with Nesta, Az. Elain can go too, of course, but things could get dicey and Elain isn’t a fighter,”

“I just don’t think that Nesta needs to bother,” Azriel shrugged.

“Can you at least take Temal?” Cassian suggested.

Azriel bristled at the thought.

“I am not taking my son! By the gods, Cass. What the fuck? Why would we?”

Then he turned to Elain and asked, “unless you want him to accompany us, princess?”

He and his Ellie did not have biological children. They had tried for years, but then 100 years had passed, 200 years, and even longer, and she never conceived. They’ve been told that ‘it could happen at any time’ centuries ago, but lately, no one’s been giving those assurances anymore. Elain was young, but Azriel was over 800 years old, and it was unlikely that after all these years, he’d suddenly father a child. 

However, while he was trying to breed his wife year after year, they also went ahead and adopted an orphaned Illyrian boy named Temal. And somehow, along the way, Temal became perfectly enough for them. There was no need for other children for the two of them. Temal was a strapping lad, a capable five-syphon warrior, and an Illyrian Commander, who was married to an Illyrian princess. About two hundred years ago, they’d made Azriel and Elain grandparents for the first time, and Azriel absolutely adored his three grandchildren. But as for his own children–nah. Azriel was perfectly satisfied with what he had. Selfishly, he wasn’t too keen on sharing Elain with anyone, even his own offspring. His brothers and her sisters had five children between them and Azriel found himself long ago enjoying and relishing his role as an uncle. He was especially close to one of Nesta and Cassian’s daughters–Elena. She was the apple in his eye. However, when it came to Elain…there was something about childbirth that didn’t sit right with him. A gnawing thing in the back of his mind cautioned him…and he knew that something bad would happen…something sinister if she became pregnant. And he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk Elain. Never. 

Rhys rose from the divan and said, “we’ll discuss it later. It’s dinner time. I don’t think that you going alone…well, the two of you…is enough. I want you to find someone in addition to,”

Irritated, Azriel interrupted,

“And when we find them? What then?”

Rhys shrugged.

“Obtain the necessary information and you can deal with them as you sit fit after that.”

[skyeventide]

so I think it's very obvious that "therapy talk" in fiction is the result of years of people suddenly coming into contact with certain types of deconstructions or lit crit, like say gender studies or post-colonial studies, and internalising the version you find on the internet, deteriorated in approaches and degenerated in results, which we all have come to know and not love through such phaenomena as virtue signalling, basic and surface-level analyses of "problematic" content, and head cops trying to reassure the public of your purity of intetions.

I also think that these things also happen when you actually study lit crit tho (aside from the unfortunate fact that people who study it aren't at all free from surface-level analyses, virtue signalling, and cops in their heads; free from bias or incompetence, overall). like sometimes you can tell that someone has spent too much time mired in theory and goes like look, I'm really good at theory, I passed this class, can you tell I pased this class, and it isn't even necessarily conscious. but the sublimation of theory in narrative is lost. no one could do a critical reading of that piece of fiction cause it's as though the writer has already done it ahead of time, and that's definitely a dangerous pitfall for me specifically too. sometimes you just want to show that you know things and are a bit too on the nose about it.

unfortunately, shows of erudition tend to make reading unfun. as for the above, the therapy talk, didactic fiction has always been a deeply annoying bore.

[strlingsav]

you are a god among us peasants. your writing skills so sublime, you make tears fall from my eyes (and from between my legs); thank you for your service. ����

if you’re keen, may i request pain? just angst and maybe death too—if doable. of course, we cannot forget smut; because we’re still thirsty degenerates despite (or is it in spite) the masochism. but if that’s not your cup of tea, then no worries, you feed us well anyway. 🥰

anyway, just wanna say thank you very much for existing and that i look forward to reading more of your amazing fics. may both sides of your pillow be cool whenever you lay on them. 🙏

lastly, im the one who requested for the ‘read more’ bar and tbh, i was not really expecting anything from it. i was expecting it to be ignored and i was fine with it. coz let’s be honest, that was just nitpicking from freeloaders like me and scrolling a few more seconds is the least we can do to thank you for sharing your awesome brainchilds with us. i was just shooting my shot but honestly didn’t expect anything from it. so for you to implement it as soon as you got the ask is just 🤌. thank you. i appreciate you. i hope you immediately find your lost things as soon as you start looking for them. ❤️😘😘😘

LOL, stop it now I'm crying 😭 I can definitely come up with something real angst-y and slutty just for you!!!

You're so kind, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you, and the validation 🫶🏻🥹❤️

Of course!! It's my pleasure 🤍 Thank you (and a million more thank yous) for the kind words, I hope you enjoy!!

Endings

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— A sweet goodbye turns sour.

Two

Explicit/gory content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

The sun had just barely peaked, a glowing orange hue sneaking out from behind your linen curtains. It must've been early, early enough to catch Simon before he headed out.

You stretched out, rolling onto your side, still beneath the warmth of your heavy duvet. A soft pillow cradled your head, goose down, plush and inviting. You didn't want to wake up- you wanted to give in to the overwhelming contentment. Your hands reached out, your eyes shut as you relished in the comfort of your bed.

Your hand tucked under your cheek as you opened one eye, focusing on the man next to you, his chest rising and falling slowly, peacefully. His skin lit up in the sun-tinged room, glowing softly, an image of pure serenity, nearly God-like.

You sighed softly, your eyes scanning his face. You didn't want to wake him. He needed every minute of sleep. You carefully pulled the covers back, goosebumps erupting at the flood of cold air hitting your skin.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back with a strong tug. Simon enveloped you in his arms, cradling your body against his chest. You giggled softly when his lips nuzzled against your neck, pressing a lazy kiss against your skin.

"You sneakin' out on me?" He mumbled, muffled by your hair.

"Trying to," You smiled. "But you caught me."

He hummed, "Just need a few more minutes."

"I can do that," You said, your legs interlocking with his.

His hands followed the natural curve of your waist, meeting your hips, down your thighs. He pressed a palm against your leg, before running his fingers back through the carved path.

"You're barely awake and already feeling me up," You teased, your head turning to look at him.

His eyes were still shut, though his brows furrowed.

"Always in the mood to feel you up, sweetheart." His hand grabbed at one of your breasts, making you laugh- boisterous and genuine.

"You're insatiable." You shook your head.

"Can't blame me."

He pressed his hips into your backside, his erection pressing into you.

"Good dream?"

He shifted upward, his hand on your waist as he looked over you. Half-covered with the comforter, eyes still blinking slowly as you adjusted to the morning light, a mischievous smile across your face. He loved these mornings, slow and playful, where he could appreciate you in your purest form.

He would miss it- miss you. The first woman to force her way into his life and stay there. He'd grown fond of you. More than fond, if he was honest, but honesty scared the fuck out of him. As did vulnerability. He often worried he'd grow too close to you, open up a bit too much and you'd run the other way.

He rarely spoke of his childhood or innermost thoughts, but you made it bearable. He didn't have to hide it from you, didn't have to pretend he was put-together when he was really tearing at the seams. You'd kissed every wound, loved him regardless.

He loved you. He'd only said it once, maybe twice, too shamefully afraid, but you knew. He'd never known anything like the feeling that made him think of you, all the damn time. Made him want to make you happy, do the nervous boyfriend routine when he met your parents. Become a pathetic sop when he was wrapped in your arms.

He devoured every bit of yourself that you showed to him. Every secret, every terrible thing you'd ever done. He wasn't alone, not when you were there.

His hand reached down your pelvis, inching slowly to press the pad of his finger against your clit.

"Must've been good," You held back a smile, your eyes shutting as you basked in the pleasure of his fingers rubbing circles over the delicate organ.

He shook his head against the hard line of your jaw. "'S'all for you," He said quietly, his lips honing in on yours with a delicate kiss.

You moaned softly, your hand reaching for the side of his face. His tongue slid into your mouth gingerly, gliding against yours.

Your mouths moved in sync, a perfected routine. He quieted your moans with his mouth, shushing you with the use of his tongue.

He moved away, leaving you to chase after his lips, open your eyes to see him.

"You're too good to me," You smiled, your lips parting when he applied a bit more pressure with his fingers.

"I know," He replied. "Y'deserve every bit."

He hummed with approval as he looked over your blissful expression, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses across your neck and chest. His teeth nipped at your flesh, tongue sliding out to soothe the inflicted area.

"Just needed to feel you again," He mumbled. "Gonna be gone for a while."

You tried not to frown, tried not to show your utter disappointment upon remembering these would be your last moments together for months.

Your back arched inadvertently when he sunk two fingers inside you, quickly coated with your liquid arousal. A guttural moan left your lips, his thumb still circling your clit.

Your hand reached to stop his movements, your brows cresting, a pleading expression in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

His lips separated, your words creating a searing heat in his groin. The desperation in your voice tugged at a primal instinct inside him, to make you feel good, and it surely would've brought him to his knees had he been standing.

He readjusted himself, his eyes on yours as he massaged his cock with his hand. He moved slowly, angling your thigh to allow him better access. You curved your back, opening your thighs a bit wider as he searched for your entrance.

You felt the slick head of his cock press against you, easing in gently, your hymen stretching to accommodate his size. Your eyes squeezed shut, lip quivering as you bit down.

He was finally buried inside you, giving a low groan in your ear when he felt just how wet you were.

Your back against his chest, his hand slid around your waist, fingers splayed out over the expanse of your curves.

His hips rocked into you, his hand holding you tightly against him, your head fell into his chest. His other hand found yours beneath the pillow, squeezing tightly, reassuringly.

Your eyes opened, finding his amidst the crescendo of pleasure, watching his nostrils flare as he sucked in deep breaths, utterly dumbfounded by the way your pussy felt like it was made just for him.

You leaned in closer, nuzzling your face against his, soft whimpers leaving your lips when his cock hit your G-spot.

"Baby," You whispered, your hand reaching back to glide into his hair. "God, Simon."

"That's it, love," He cooed, through broken breaths and strained vocal cords. "S'alright."

Your heart stammered in your chest, before pounding harshly against your ribs, threatening to climb out your throat. His grip on your body was unrelenting, a solid reminder that it was him who made you feel that way, that had your hips grinding back against him, silently begging for more.

"'M gonna miss you," You breathed, "So much."

His hand slid down your waist, circling your neglected clit, matching the pace of his wonderfully slow thrusts.

"Miss you too," He sighed. "Always miss you, love."

You were restless against him, finding no solace in the idea that you were close to orgasm, and so was he. It would be over, and you'd have to start your day; leave the shelter of your bed, the place where you could hide from everything and everyone, together.

Your fingers replaced his on your clit, and he took advantage of the freedom, cupping your breasts with his large hand. His fingers ghosted over your perked nipples, listening to your soft moans, savouring the fruit of his labour.

"Simon-" You whispered, broken and breathless, hardly there but loud enough for him to hear.

He could feel your pussy fluttering around him, making him shut his eyes as he resisted the urge to cum. "I'm close."

He continued at his successful pace, trying not to watch the way you unraveled, how your back arched even further into him, your spine curving, how your skin flushed with the rush of endorphins. Your voice breaking out in a long, desperate moan, the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

He was even closer now- your undoing had lead him right to his climax. His hips paused against your backside, a gust of his warm breath washed over your back as he exhaled harshly. He kept himself firmly planted inside you, still enjoying the addictive walls of your pussy.

He was apprehensive when he pulled away, shifting now to slide you even closer. He wrapped you in his arms again, his lips pressing against the salty skin of your temple.

"Gotta get goin'," He grumbled.

You nodded. "I know."

He'd been packed for a few days now, ready and waiting for the day he had to catch a flight out. You joined him at the front entrance of the apartment building, in your sweats, watching with red eyes and a forced smile as he shoved his bag into the seat of his SUV.

He moved back to you, enveloping you in a warm hug, his hands wrapping around your waist to hold you.

"I'll miss you," You whispered in his ear.

"Be back 'fore you know it, love," He said back, his lips kissing the sliver of skin showing on your shoulder.

"Better be- and in one piece," You tried to laugh, tried to make it easy.

"Behave yourself while I'm away," He warned, his hand sneaking down to take a handful of your backside.

You did laugh that time, genuine and unapologetic while passersby stared.

"Always," You pulled away. "I love you."

His eyes locked with yours, a soft smile forming over his lips- one of admiration and total devotion.

"Love you too."

Your insides warmed, cheeks glowing with pure adoration.

—

Simon's hearing had gone in his left ear- high-pitched ringing in the other. His eyes focused on the smoke, the still-spinning blades of the helo.

That was when he realized he could only see from one eye- blunt force trauma causing a blown pupil and detachment of his retina.

He tried to twist onto his front, at least have a chance at dragging himself to safety.

A searing pain ripped through his thigh as he lifted himself, and he peered down to find his femur poking through the skin, his torn fatigues covered with blood.

He inhaled, shaky and shallow, hardly enough to sustain his racing heart. Low groans of agony rumbled in his chest, his muscles twitching as he held the surrounding flesh of his broken bone. His head ached, throbbing and stinging, not yet realizing he'd cracked his skull, the flesh of his scalp held together by his helmet. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him.

His deafened ear leaked red, severe swelling of the brain pushing against the intact remainder of his skull.

He tried to sit up again, though couldn't find the strength. He was exhausted- dizzy with blood loss and no longer able to move his limbs quite right.

You, he thought, you'd be alone. You'd wonder where he was, what happened. Would they let you see his body? Or would they tell you he was M.I.A? He couldn't decide which would be worse; leaving you with unanswered questions or knowing he was never coming back. Would they tell you how hard he fought to stay alive for you, even if his entire body was begging to let go?

He was shivering, now. His body had started to focus all energy on his fatal injuries, desperately hanging on to any viable organs. It wouldn't work- it couldn't. Not even a goldstar field medic could piece him back together, not enough to call him human again. He wasn't sure if he'd want you to see him that way, either.

Fitting, he thought. Nothing good ever lasted for Simon Riley.

At least he'd told you he loved you. You'd know it was real, that he wasn't afraid anymore. You'd know he gave everything he had, including his trust, his feelings. The thought gave him a moment of comfort- or maybe it was the endorphins putting an end to his suffering. Either way, his chest warmed when he pictured that playful smile, your eyes. He yearned to have you there, holding his hand instead of digging his fingers into the wet earth. He'd made his grave inside you already, resigned to dying with you than without. You'd tell him it was alright, tell him to let go while he couldn't feel an ounce of pain. You were selfless like that.

All he could picture, as the last of his breath left his lungs, as his heart gave up on sustaining a worthless fight, was you. That morning in bed, before deployment, where you'd given another piece of yourself to him, selflessly. As always.

Thank God he'd told you he loved you.

[yuomizuu]

♡ | lovely eyed & death-touched ── sethos x reader !

synopsis: death lurks among the shadows of this city that has long since been plagued by deadly creatures of the night. you never thought you’d ever come across one of them yourself… much less interrogate one that could easily take you under his command.

additional: w.c 2.5k+ ⸝⸝⸝ content includes . . .gn reader, vampire au, detective au, light mentions of death, blood, violence, implied enemies to lovers, very much sherlock holmes/victorian inspired

( 🎃 ) yuom’s note: im gonna throw this fic into the blender and watch it become obliterated then pour it off the edge of a cliff /j anyways.. here’s my entry for the @/stellaronhvnters halloween event ! i had to cut off an entire section of a heizou & reader interaction because i for the life of me could not figure out how to include it in naturally www this piece is already half-baked and rushed ( т т ) the prompt i chose was vampire!

there is much to be said about the mysteries secretly harbored within the city of bakerlon. many will share tall tales of the sublime horrors that come with every setting of the sun, while others will purposely turn a blind eye — play the fool. but who can blame them? when one is desperate to seek even the dimmest of lights in an otherwise gloomy place, they will do anything to preserve that flickering candlelight from becoming extinguished.

once upon a time you were that person: donning a mask and dancing amongst countless others in a masquerade of fools, hopelessly yearning to drown yourself in the charade of festivities. however, you would quickly come to realize that playing pretend was an excuse far more cruel than simply coming face-to-face with reality. in hindsight, neither of the two were great options to begin with; both equally came with their respective consequences. but as the saying goes, 'beggars can't be choosers.'

therefore if fate decided that you were going to live in a world where the concept of life and death was rendered down to nothing more than a gamble, then you become something unexpected. an anomaly that not even fate can secure its tortuously tight grasp on.

the sound of carriages and horses trotting down a cobblestone street echoes throughout, along with the distant sound of drunkards hollering out to the pouring skies above. you clutch tightly onto the handle of your umbrella to prevent it from being blown away by the gusts of winds that occasionally sweeps across the street. as a child you used to very much enjoy such down casted weather. whether it was wearing your rain coat and boots to go splash on the murky puddles outside or staying indoors snugly bundled up in blankets as you read your favorite stories by the window with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, you loved it all the same.

as you grew older though, waking up to rainy mornings gradually became more of dread since it meant walking to your workplace would be a tedious trip. for some reason, people in the city seem to find such weather as the perfect excuse to be out and about handling their business — all at the same time. truly a nuisance.

after managing to squeeze your way through a crowd of individuals huddled up in heated protest — one of them even having stopped you midtracks to give a flyer that you promptly discarded — you hurried your way inside a nearby building. upon entry, you're instantly greeted with a warmth that makes a subtle shiver run down your back, followed by a sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries and cake that never fails to make your cravings spike.

the moriarty teahouse was one of the only establishment in the city that operated during the late hours of the night. in the beginning, it attracted little to no attention from the public eye which was only natural as most people prefer to enjoy having their fine tea and cake in the early morning or afternoon. but over the years, it has slowly managed to garner the attention of many who reside in the middle and lower class of the population. a booming success that worked out in the owner's favor. after all, what better way to cover up a detective agency than to have a teahouse running as it's front?

"good evening," a pleasant voice greets from behind the counter, guiding you over to the woman that patiently stands there with a welcoming smile, "will it just be a table for one today?"

"yes.. table for one for the 'bittersweet nightshade' special, please."

there's no response at first as the woman begins to warily eye you up and down with the intent of seeking out some kind of fault or deception in both your expression and tone. without sparing another thought, you briefly flash the enamel pin you have hidden beneath your cloak depicting the aforementioned bittersweet nightshade plant with a snake coiled around it's branches. a look of recognition quickly replaces the woman's cautioned one at the sight of it.

"right this way."

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

the tension that hangs within the room brought about a looming silence, with the soft crackle of a nearby fire and ticking of an old grandfather clock being the only sources of sound. hardcover books remained neatly tucked away on their respective shelves, some probably collecting dust amongst their pages more so than others. above the fireplace hung various paintings gilded in rusted gold that depicted elegant figures, broad landscapes, and wild animals, though several have since lost their original shine and color. so much so that they seem to blend in with the wall. countless trinkets and gadgets remained scattered across the room, few of them polished while others remain nothing but statues frozen in time.

if the current situation had not been so somber, sethos could easily imagine himself being back in his grandfather’s study. the sense of familiarity felt somewhat surreal. however, compared to this room, his grandfather’s was more spacious and tidier. he can recall the times when he’d sneak into the room while the old man remained distracted at his desk reviewing and signing papers. sethos was always convinced that his presence went unnoticed by his grandfather, who never spoke a word from when he entered and left. yet, it was the young boy who remained unaware of the eyes that peered over at him in fatherly love, watching him attempt to read a book that had a language far too advanced for him to comprehend. though he could never explain it, sethos always felt a sense of belonging and security when he was in his grandfather’s study, but perhaps one day, he will.

“.. would you care for some tea?” you place a small cup was placed in front of sethos, the motion breaking him from his momentary trance, “it’s honeybush tea, i made it myself.”

the vampire glanced between the hot cup and then to you across from him, “no thank you.” he replied, slightly pushing the cup away to further instate his decline.

“what, not a fellow enjoyer of tea?” you inquiry, “or let me guess, you vampires prefer drinking the blood of your victims out of a golden chalice?”

despite not saying anything in response, sethos watched as you poured yourself a full cup of tea and drank it carefully. it’s not like he was seriously displeased over such a trivial fact; he just really wasn’t in the mood for tea. however, to spare any further small talk, sethos decidedly went along and drank his fill. he can’t remember the last time he had honeybush tea, or any kind of tea for that matter. the taste of honey remains the same, but he can also taste a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. a pleasant flavor indeed. this is a brew that he can imagine his past lover having at one of the tea parties they would regularly hold every spring back in the duke's estate. although sethos never attended one, his lover always made him taste the tea and desserts they would plan to give their guests the day before to serve as a second opinion. suffice it to say, this caused him to have a sweet tooth that has managed to remain with him decades later.

“taste good, right?” you inquired, smirking in a rather triumphant manner. “you know i happen to know a thing or two about tea brewing. i could probably even make a living in just running the teahouse myself. although.. convincing the owner to let me do so would be a whole other issue to tackle entirely.”

sethos continued drinking.

“you're not much of a talker, are you? usually you guys have some kind of witty remark to throw at us.” the cup is now empty.

“listen, hunter, if you're here to simply fantasize about your future tea brewing empire, then you should have picked up one of those drunkards from the streets to have that kind of conversation with,” sethos said, placing the cup down and leaning back into his chair.

"it's detective. not 'hunter.'" you corrected, narrowing your eyes at him.

"detective, hunter… the lot of you are basically one in the same." he mused, not missing the look of displeasure on your face as he continued to make generalizations. "but i guess if there had to be a difference, then you're less worser of the bunch aren't you?"

there's that witty remark at last. "i think i've done enough of trying to keep up a cordial conversation with you," you sigh, pulling out a drawer from the desk and reaching in to grab some files that have been marked for you to look over during this interrogation. "now if you don't want an iron dagger pierced through your chest by the end of this conversation, then i suggest that you—"

"you haven't told them yet, have you?"

you pause, your body visibly tensing for a brief moment. "… told them what?"

"don't play the fool with me my dear detective, you know exactly what i'm referring to." he tilts his head to the side slightly, a look of amusement dancing across his face. "you haven't told anyone here about how i have you under my control."

you hesitate before speaking, trying to keep your voice steady. "..i've had no reason to." you lie, trying to avoid the topic by continuing to look through the papers inside the file but your actions prove to be useless.

"finally starting to take my words from back then into consideration? about how you can't trust no one in this supposed agency of yours?"

"you honestly expect me to believe a vampire of all living things? i'd much rather take a talking toad's words than your own."

sethos merely shrugs in response, seemingly lacking care at your words. "well, you know what they say. keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"and i suppose you're meant to be my enemy?"

"if it means being closer to you my dear detective, than yes."

he sends you a boyish-like grin that, albeit effortlessly charming, makes you roll your eyes in disinterest. "alright, then answer me this pure-blood. if you're meant to be my enemy then in all this time, why haven't you once appeared before me until now?" you questioned, taking note of the way his confident expression started to slip, indirectly encouraging to continue on.

"you have me under your control. just a few words and i'd be doing your every bidding. any normal vampire would use that to their advantage either to overthrow the agency once and for all, or simply have another victim to continuously feed off of.. but you haven't done a single thing to me since that day of the fire, or even now. so what's your deal?"

a beat passes between you two where nothing is said and you start to fear that perhaps you were poking your stick at the bear for too long. like at any second, he was going to command you to stay still and then suddenly pounce and sink his teeth into your skin, drinking you dry and leaving your frail corpse there to rot. but that moment never comes.

the light of the room was dim. the only source being the soft glow from the fireplace that casted a warm, gentle glow over the room and soft shadows over you two. it doesn't take long for your eyes to train in on his own, and just like that you unknowingly find yourself getting lost in them. you can't recall the last time you allowed yourself to forget how mesmerized you became with sethos' viridescent eyes. an alluring sight that you'd sell your very soul and being for just to forever gaze into such a luminescence.

slowly, you start to feel almost feather-light and your senses become nothing but a haze amongst your clouded mind. but just before you can allow yourself to drown yourself deeper into the sea of reverie, sethos blinks and he quickly averts his gaze elsewhere, a shaky breath escaping from him as he does so.

"i don't like controlling others without reason," he finally answers, promptly standing up from his seat and walking over the fireplace, back turned to you. "you've been voluntarily silent about the matter thus far, so i've had no reason to do anything…"

a wave of light headedness washes over you then, making you reach up and hold your head as your regain your consciousness and sense of self once more. you both did it again. without even realizing, you always manage to let yourself fall under his control. a part of you wants to believe that perhaps it's all sethos' doing and sooner or later, he'll have you wrapped around his finger because you decided to be so careless. but if that were the case, he would've done so by now, you know he would. so why — why allow yourself to willingly fall into the deepest depths of no return?

before you can even continue to question the thought yourself, the vampire's voice interrupts your train of thought.

"but i think that's enough of your integration for the night. all that talking has left me feeling strangely parched again so why don't you be a lovely host and fetch me another cup of that honeybush tea, hm?"

shaking your head at him, you sigh. ".. fine. i'll have one of the workers downstairs prepare you some and have them bring it up to you—"

"no, no, no," he cuts you off, making you stop in your tracks just as you're about to open the door and leave. he then sends you a smile. "i want you to make it."

"what? why?"

"call it a.. personal preference. i like the way you make the tea. and it reminds me of old times along with someone i once.. cherished."

probably for the first time in your entire time of speaking and questioning the creature of the night, you hear his voice take on a softer edge as those last strings of words left his lips. and if you looked closely enough, you could see the way his eyes take on a melancholic look of nostalgia as he gazes into the dancing flames, almost as though he was watching a memory play out right before him. deciding not to dwell on it any longer than you should—lest you actually anger him this time—you give a small hum of acknowledgment before departing.

the steady rhythm of your heartbeat created a soft, intimate beat in the now empty and silent room. it would continue to sound in sethos' ears for the rest of that night as you prepared his tea and brought it up to him again. it was a mortifying and tortious feeling to be the only one who remembers. this time though, he was determined to not make that delicate heart of yours stop from beating ever again. his own death has never once frightened him, but yours? that is his greatest, and deepest fear: one he can't bear to witness again.

[ken-dom]

Ken Comfort Headcanons

Ken x reader

Summary and warnings: a few headcanons of Ken being supportive when you’re in need of comfort. It’s Ken, so that does sometimes cross over into him being a little... obsessive. Also, I’ve tried to leave this ambiguous as to the time and setting so it’s up to how you want to read it! Includes mentions of kisses.

I originally posted this to my main blog but I'm re-posting all my work here to have everything in one place due to an unresolved tagging issue on my main

He tries SO hard when he knows you've had a bad day because he can't stand the thought of you feeling anything other than as perfect as he thinks you are

Will give you space but is never far away, usually watching from a distance just incase you need something he can provide

He’s so soft and gentle with you, brushing your hair while he tells you all the things he loves most about you to give you a boost

The list of compliments is long and far from exhaustive; he rarely gives you the same compliment twice and never runs out of new ones

Truly excellent at pep talks if you need one

Holds your face in his palms and looks deep into your eyes to tell you some variation of how sublime or brave or wonderful or kind you are, hoping you’ll believe him and trying to send some positive Kenergy straight to you via his intense gaze

‘Would you like to go for a walk? You can hold my hand…’

Of course, he walks you to the beach (after taking a moment to compose himself at the hand holding) to watch the sunset together

If you squeeze his hand he giggles or let’s out a delighted little ‘Ooh!’

After finding the perfect place to sit together on the sand, he lights a little fire to get cosy beside, smiling at you all the while, and asks, ‘Do you want to talk about it? Or you can just rest with me if that’s what you need?’

Either way, it ends with you laid together on the sand with you resting on his chest, listening to the soothing sounds of his heartbeat and steady breathing

You feel so safe and content with his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders and his fingers playing lovingly with your hair

There’s no rush. He’s content for you to remain silent or take all the time you need in talking to him. He really has all the time in the world for you

It makes his heart race a little to be so close with you, but he contains the feelings it stirs within him so that he can focus entirely on you

Does give you tender little kisses at least every five minutes though, just to remind you how wanted you are

He’s such a good listener. He usually hangs on your every word, but at times like these, it's not just that. When you need him, he is so supportive and always surprises you with new perspectives on whatever is bothering you

If you tell Ken a secret he will guard that secret with his life (but he may flex on some other Kens that you confide in him. He would be really proud of that)

When you begin to feel tired, he will walk you back home, eagerly offering his hand again. He always hopes you’ll invite him inside and to sleep over, but his main priority tonight is helping you feel yourself again

‘Would you like me to come in and read to you?’

He doesn’t so much read as look at pictures with you and excitedly read out the bits he thinks are most exciting, but his heart is in the right place and it warms yours to know that he wants to spend his free time making you feel better and not just vying for your attention

Makes you tea and tucks you in even if he’s not staying over, with one final kiss to your forehead before he departs

‘I’m your Ken no matter what.’

Literally does not sleep. Worries all night that you might not have sweet dreams or will wake feeling anything other than great

Will be back first thing in the morning with breakfast already made and a hot bath drawn for you, ready for when you wake up to make sure you’re off to a perfect start the next day

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Non-Penetrative Sex Recs

This week, we have a dozen fics that involve sex without penetration - ear sex, frottage, oral, mutual masturbation and more. Check them out underneath the cut, and comment or kudos if you like them!

Discipline (Catharsis) by RoseArcaneum (4168, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek feels guilty for what he's done. But there is no one to punish him. Or is there. Caleb teaches Essek a little about catharsis.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Research Method by AnaliseGrey (3819, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb conducts an experiment with the help of Essek and their enchanted toys

Reccer says: I liked it!

Like a Steel Trap by kaeda (12519, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb knew the exact time at all times, just from his mind alone, and something about that was incredibly sexy.

Reccer says: Lovely look at Caleb's keen mind and Essek appreciation of it!

at the violet hour by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (17247, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Confessing their feelings for each other doesn’t mean Essek stops being on the run. They still talk every night through sending, telepathy rings and can see each other though scrying.

Reccer says: i just love this so much! the tenderness, longing for touch, their conversations and you feel hope for the future. voyeurism through scrying is also 11/10 love turning spells sexy

Sublimation by rakel (4178, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek asks Caleb about introducing sex into their relationship, and the conversation quickly turns into a hands-on, clothes-on demonstration.

Reccer says: It's a perfect balance of hotness and realistic awkwardness for a first time fic.

Quelled Concupiscence by measuringtheabyss (4168, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek have had a discussion about their differing sex drives and Caleb believes the conclusion is that he needs to take care of himself without bothering Essek. He is very mistaken about that and Essek shows him just how wrong he is.

Reccer says: amazing dominant essek

Precious In Your Hands by neverthelessthesun (1183, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb likes being told what to do in bed and Essek likes telling him. Here he is told to grind against the bed and then suck Essek off.

Reccer says: I liked it!

lips that they must use in prayer by sarahlizzie (4447, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek isn’t the biggest fan of kissing on the lips, but Caleb quickly discovers the many other places Essek loves to be kissed.

Reccer says: I liked it!

a body in absentia by nonwal (103593, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, some of the sex scenes do contain penetration

Scourger AU where Bren gets more emotionally invested in his seduction attempt than he anticipated.

Reccer says: Takes a very intentional, non-normative approach towards sex and intimacy. Also, the chapter titles! The characterization! The...pillow collection?

so volatile an equation by bloodredribbon (8459, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Extremely Dubious Consent

After Caleb witnesses Essek's conversation with Da'leth, Essek kidnaps him before he can tell the Nein what he saw.

Reccer says: The desperation and mutual manipulation is so delicious

These last two fics had multiple recs each!

it's easy, dear by lakrisrot (enheduane) (2552, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb gives Essek a massage to destress and finds out how sensitive Essek's ears are.

Reccer 1 says: All of it honestly. I love every single word. Reccer 2 says: Very vivid and sensory!! So hot!!

The Art of the Possible by CatgirlTheCrazy (6886, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, other fics in the series contain penetrative sex and discussions of past dubcon

Essek isn't always in the mood for sex, and finds a way to still be involved when Caleb is.

Reccer 1 says: Good ace rep that also takes the allo partner's emotional needs into consideration! Reccer 2 says: I liked it! Reccer 3 says: I have never felt more seen by a fic than this one. It is simply incredible and worldview shifting. And the characters are so accurate to themselves. It’s magnificent.

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

[absolutebl]

This Week In BL

April 2023 Wk 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Bed Friend (Sat YT, GaGa & iQIYI uncut) ep 8 of 10 - actually this installment was better than I expected after the dreaded extension decision. I am still enjoying this one a lot, but I think it’s slipped out of 10/10 contention. Sad. I thought I high heat was finally gonna break into top 10. 

Future (Thai Sun YouTube & Gaga) ep 3 of 5 - More of pretty much exactly the same and exactly the same clingy cuteness. This is a great but sublimely dumb show. It is beyond sappy. Also EVERYONE is queer. EVERYONE. I don’t like the premise that you have to leave your friends when you get into a relationship, but it does happen. I guess Fuse has to find Tee a bf? Also, babies first fight. 

Pastsenger (Thai Weds Gaga) 5 of 12 eps - Boring. But cohabitation and lots of other tropes like feeding, head in lap, hair wash, helmet buckle. Kiew is SUCH a boyfriend. Also a brief lap sit (bet @heretherebedork​ is happy). Plus unnecessary side dishes. 

A Boss and a Babe (Fri YouTube) ep 6 of 12 - ForceBook are performing their characters well and consistently, but the narrative is fighting them and contradicting them all the time. We’re told boss yells at babe but never see it, then boss says he’s never mean even though everyone says he is mean (be we never see it). It’s crazy-making. They are cute bfs who make me smile because they are ForceBook and for no other reason. GMMTV should be thoroughly ashamed of misusing these two a 2ND TIME. Especially as this is one of their few pairs willing to do higher heat. You can’t hear it but this it MY ANNOYED TYPING VOICE.  

Tin Tam Jai (Tues Gaga & iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - I just like the side seme. Sorry main couple, you are not in my heart. P’Doc Park just seems uninterested, don’t force it nong Tin just go with P’Plearn who is all up in your business and defining EAGER. 

Chains of Heart (Sat iQIYI) ep 8 of 10 - It always takes me forever to get around to this one (even when I’m not on site), honestly if it weren’t nearing the end I probably would just drop it from sheer frustration. How can a show that’s meant to be suspenseful be this dull? I guess Din’s secret identity was the twist reveal? Not much of one. What about his son? I am so confused by this show and so do not care. What a disappointment. 

The Promise (Thai Weds YT) ep 6 of 10 - ON HIATUS UNTIL APRIL 19.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku (Japan Thurs Gaga) 1 of 10 - OH MY GOD IT’S SO CUTE. It is pretty much exactly like the manga and I am all over fine with that. Expect this BL to be soft af, gentle, sweet and another cozy BL to add to our new roster (post forthcoming I promise). Also don’t expect a kiss. Honestly, I don’t care, I love this yaoi so much and I am delighted to see it on my screen and so well cast. It’s disgustingly charming. 

Unintentional Love Story (Korea Thurs iQIYI) 7-8 of 10 - (here’s how I’m getting it) Oh they’re so cute and ridiculous confessing and hiding out. Also the sides are EVERYTHING. This is actually turning into a pretty decent BL. I like that the bfs tease and play together it’s sweet. This is a very huggy couple for Korea. And then DOOM. Betrayal. Argh! Pain.  Nooooooo. Long eps and lip wobbles galore. We all SUFFER until next week. 

The Eighth Sense (Korea Weds Viki) eps 3-4 of 10 - I actually re-watched the first 2 eps bf I watched this week’s installments. We know Jae Won is popular, rich, sunshine who wants to be loved but estranged from his fam. Ji Hyun is a shy, serious, polite country boy deep in first crush. Despite this dichotomy it’s JH who seems more comfortable in himself and, possibly, his sexual preferences. There’s a homoeroticism to this show that is not normal for BL (I know... but it isn’t, certainly not KBL). Reminds me a bit of ITSAY + Shelter + His the series. The director is doing some very interesting things that makes the watching experience chewy. Note the actors have been told to match strides whenever they walk together? So far as the narrative goes timing on the kiss (good kiss tho it may be) indicates that the plot will be fall out from kissing (tragedy), not build up to a romantic relationship. (Timing is a bitch.) Also… this is what we call being “dicked around by a closet case.” Baby’s first love is NOT going to go well. On the bright side, baby got himself his first fag hag to comfort him after the inevitable heartbreak. Honestly? I’m finding this rough going because it’s SO TENSE but I can’t stop watching. And clearly I have a lot to say about this show. 

It’s Airing But ...

Love Syndrome (Thai Sat WeTV) stopped at ep 2 of 12 - I’m just not into any aspect of it (except Lee Long Shi and I can watch him in Tin Tem Jai) - saving to binge if the end is solid.

Venus in the Sky (Sat YouTube) pilot/tester?) 0 of 10 - not entirely sure what’s up with this one distribution-wise, but the pilot was cute, classic university-set pulp. I hope it happens because the leads are cute with good chemsitry and I thought it was fun. However, it totally holds together as it’s own little short story too.

Cafe In Love (Thai ???) 10 eps on Ch3+ - Thai pulp, about trying to save a coffee shop. FairyGodBLer came through for me, but I’m collecting to binge just in case. It’s my new policy with the grey stuff.

Destiny Seeker (Tues WeTV Thailand) 10 eps - it’s not on any WeTV I can get ahold of. Bad Buddy the pulp rebirth meets Japanese handsome host club action. Same as above.

Make a Wish (Thai Weds ?) from WaGa Creative staring Fluke Natouch (OhmFluke UWMA etc...) & Judo (The Miracle Of Teddy Bear) in a medical-fantasy. About a doctor who sees ghosts and a deity who resides in a Bodhi tree that earns merits whenever he fulfills a wish based on a y-novel by Sammon (Manner of Death, Triage). Same as above.

My Beautiful Man Eternal (Japan ????) - 3rd installment, but a movie that released 4/7 which means it’s a pain to get hold of.

In Case You Missed it

My Blessing popped up on YT. Thailand gave us a hour long take on the “my ghost boyfriend trope” with predictable results: decent heat, pulp story (which is to say no story, really) and good kisses, but it ends with death/separation. Don’t bother unless you are a particular fan of Boat (I Am Your King 2). I am, but he was, once again, underserved by this script. Sigh. 2/10 

Gaga is airing Japanese drama: Me and My Husband’s Boyfriend (concludes April 14). This is a full series dropping over two weeks. Sort of a poly romance meets psychological manipulation that starts with cheating and has lots of other taboo stuff like teacher/student. The lynchpin is an out bisexual poly manic pixie dream nightmare? boy. Don’t be deluded into thinking this is BL, it’s not even messy BL. It’s just Japan being Japan. Complete with Terrible Kissing (TM). I found it an interesting subject matter but can’t in good conscience recommend it to a BL watcher. 

Myanmar dropped a BL short called The Love Ring you can watch in on YouTube. It’s an interesting first(?) attempt with paranormal elements. It feels a lot like early Pinoy mixed with Vietnamese BL. It has a nice HEA and is worth 20 minutes of your time if you’re curious about the evolution of the genre. Considering the state of LGBTQ+ rights in that country what it is primarily is very very brave. I give it a 6/10 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting: 

04.14 Naked Dinner AKA Zenra Meshi (Japan Gaga) - not really my thing but yes I’ll watch it

04.15 My Story (Pinoy YouTube) - not my fandom but I will give it a go

Finishing: Unintentional & Future (@heretherebedork and I are gonna cry) 

No proper post for April but remaining release I know of is:

04.18 Step By Step (Thai WeTV) - office age gap, I am all in! Even though it’s WeTV. Sigh.

April is looking a bit slender so I might start watching Destiny Seeker or Cafe in Love, or both.

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)

Adventures in Captions

I think the word they were looking for was “disappointed” but I am going to start going around saying “a little bit failed” just as a matter of course. Suits my life well.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

We stan consent in this house and will always give props when it shows up in BL, probably until the end of time. Look I got so used to dub con consent is still novel and exciting, okay? (Boss & Babe) 

Yes King of the Obvious, but thank you for actually confessing. Is there ED for a confession? King has a bad case. 

Is that... Thailand? Recommending therapy? WOW. Props. (Bed Friend)

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? I’ve been dipping back into the well a lot recently, so it’s FTISLAND’s Severely. Look I just really miss Lee Hong-gi’s voice. 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - Chapter Thirteen.

Because we're not far from the end of the story now, guys, posting will go down to just once a week. It gives a few of you time to catch up, too :) big thanks to all of you who've interacted with it. I appreciate you so much!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,080

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

Rin thought she would never forget it, the sublimity of what it felt like to be at the mercy of Sean’s sexual talents. As he mapped her body in kisses and licks, though, she truly realised there was nothing like the real thing to serve as a refresher for her memory. It had been her strongest vow since reconnecting with him, that she would never again allow herself to fall into bed with the man who had done her so wrong, no matter how right it felt when she was with him.  

Her hungover brain was not in agreement with this pledge. Especially when those divine kisses finally landed upon her apex. God in heaven... no man before, and no man since could ever compare to what Sean Wallace could do with his tongue. He pushed the duvet back off of them, his hands moving over her curves as he laid long licks over her clit, eyes finding hers as she sighed in bliss, moving fluidly against him. 

The heat of his mouth had her gleaming as he laved at her once again, the nectar of her cunt saturating his tongue. His heartbeat quickened, skin tingling as little wells of contentment poured through him, under the spell of her once again with such effortless ease. She moaned, a seraphim’s symphony to his ears, a summer sonnet of lust, thumbing her clit to gently drag the hood back, the tip of his tongue tracing tight circles, the song of her arousal filling his ears again.   

Pleasure draped over her like the swathe of silk, each flicker of his tongue making her arousal bloom, like summer flowers kissed by the first sun, awakened and reaching towards the light. Each lick was an ember ignited, heat winding and coiling low in her, his breath a hot tempest as his hands stroked over the soft round of her tummy, fingertips flexing as they breeched her cunt and drove the simmer through her.   

Her panting escalated, her lips parting on a soft cry. “Sean, please, I need...” Her words were cut short by the pull of his lips sucking upon her, the tip of his tongue pushing against her clit, increasing the pressure as she keened against him, her nails flexing against his shoulders. “Yes, like that, just like that!”  

He peered up at her, cheeks hollowed, moaning low in his throat, the vibrations from such only adding to the bonfire of ecstasy that crackled up her spine. The burn of pleasure settled low within her, her soft thighs writhing against his face as his eyes shone azure, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her. He desired nothing more, but allowed her to ride out the burn of her orgasm against his tongue, flattening it to her clit and circling hard until she was there, her hands fisting the sheets as she cried out, a nirvana surging through her veins as she came hard.  

Her body was turned in the aftermath, Rin still breathless as she was pulled to her knees, his cock sinking into her inch by inch until he’d filled her, his low groan like thunder as she flexed upon him. Each roll of his hips against her buried him forth again and again, little flint strikes quickly catching upon his edges, the burn warming him to his very bones.  

His cock was shiny with the gloss of her, Sean closing his eyes tightly, willing himself not to lose control. He wanted to enjoy it, before one or both of them came to their senses. Sex with no clear terms would truly only complicate their already volatile relationship even further, but yet of course, attraction didn’t work that way.  

Rooting himself balls deep into the hot clutch of her cunt had him mindless, her soft whimpers adding to the erotic fog that blinded him, hands clutched tightly at her narrow waist. For Rin, she buried the voice that pleaded in protest how much of a bad idea this was, her greed for the all-consuming pleasure of Sean inside her again eclipsing it, heat striking at the base of her spine and skittering over her nerves.  

The coil within began to wind tighter the more he sped up, the contained giving way to unfettered vigour, until the bed shook beneath them, her cries rending the air as she tightened around him.  

“Fuck yes, make me come again, oh god!”  

Her demand was met flawlessly, the sparks glimmering until she caught fire around him, burned to ashes, Sean slipping from her and turning her onto her back. He levered her leg forward, plunging into her again, his mouth meeting hers in kisses dripping in honey and sin. He fucked her with merciless finesse, pounding her body into the bed as the lightning danced beneath his skin, muscles cording, his groan all gravel as he spilled into her, left trembling in the wake of it.  

“Well,” he panted, pulling from her to sit on the edge of the bed, “that cleared my hangover nicely.” 

It was awkward as hell, and they both knew it, succumbing to one another again when truly, things were only so newly balanced upon even keel. “I’m going for a shower.” He gave her a fleeting smile, moving from the room, Rin throwing herself out of bed and into her clothes, her brain hardwired into full-blown panic mode.  

“I have an early meeting, so I’ve got to be off. I’ll erm, I’ll call you about Tiger,” she called through the partially ajar bathroom door.  

“Alright. I suppose I shall see you at that benefit for your wildlife reserve on Saturday though, shan’t I?” 

Fuck. Only two days of space between the reckless events and seeing him once more. Cringe, cringe, cringe. “Yeah, you will. I’ll see myself out.” 

“No problem.”  

Oh, but it was a bloody problem, Rin swiping through her phone until she came to the Uber app, not wanting to wait the forty plus minutes it would take for her driver to reach Canary Wharf at ten past eight of a morning. There was a cab just two minutes away, and by the time she had booked it, the dark blue Toyota was sitting waiting for her outside of Sean’s building, Rin diving in and finally feeling her chest unclench as he drove her away. 

Due to the insane amount of morning traffic surging through the city, she didn’t actually make it back to Mulford hall until 9:40am, entering the house and heading straight upstairs for a shower. Her mum would likely have seen to taking Tiger to school, unless the child had demanded Sokoro ferry her over. That very man was present in the kitchen when she arrived there, fresh and dressed in a soft, black lounge suit, Silas at his side as they sat at the island drinking coffee. 

“I think they call it the walk of shame in English, eh?” 

“Fuck off.” Her words had the men roaring, Rin pouring herself a coffee and joining them. “I’m too delicate for jokes. Bloody hell, I need paracetamol. My head.” 

“It was a good night, boss, yes?” Sokoro asked, his face a picture of mirth. 

She winced, moving again to the cupboard where she knew there was a stash of medicines, shuffling a few boxes of Calpol and other such items to locate the little white pills her pounding head so desperately required. “Yes, it was a good night. Sort of.” 

The men exchanged looks. “It must have been, eh, for you have big love bite on your neck.”  

Fuck.  

“You have one night stand, huh boss?” Silas asked, shaking with the laughter he was trying to keep in. “You go seek a little horizonal refreshment!” 

She couldn’t help but snort with laughter, shaking her head as she took her painkillers. “Shut up.”  

“Why? There is no shame in it. You are young, free and single, after all. Unless of course, the man was, how to say... you wake up and see he has face like a dog’s arsehole.” 

Her laughter continued, her Kenyan friends chuckling away as she squirmed. “No, he definitely did not. I perhaps shouldn’t have had sex with him though. Twice.”  

“Why?” Sokoro asked, raising an eyebrow.  

“Because of who he was.” 

“Ahh, I see. And who was he?” 

Yes, they were wheedling. Very purposefully, as her reveal would show. “Sean.” 

“God damnit!” Silas moaned, immediately reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, pulling out five crisp twenty-pound notes and slapping them down upon the white marble, Sokoro taking them with glee.  

“Thank you very much!” 

Rin was aghast. “You two bloody had a bet on me?” 

Sokoro beamed. “We did. I said that it would be within the first six months of us going to rescue him that you would tumble back into bed together, eh, after witnessing the chemistry you and – how your mother call him – the ginger twat have, yes. And I was right!” 

“Pair of fucking bastards.” Her admonishment was followed by resting her head down, feeling a hand press to her shoulder, looking up into Silas’s dark eyes.  

“At least do not hate me so much, boss. I said never again. I had faith in you, and look at this now! You broke my faith and lost me a hundred quid, you and your rampant lady parts!” 

“Shut up.” Her continued chagrin only prompted them to tease more, but at least Silas had the grace to get up and make her his breakfast special while he went about it. Fried dough balls spiced with cardamon were one of her favourite Kenyan delicacies, and Silas made them perfectly, finishing the vitumbua as they were known with a drizzle of honey and some ground pistachio nuts, his own twist on the breakfast staple. 

Once she was finished eating, there was only one meeting she had to attend later that afternoon, tying up the mess the Nigerian gang had left, meeting with the new head to clearly relay her terms moving forward. She then had a full two days to panic about seeing Sean again at her benefit dinner, somewhat peculiar for her since Catherine Cavanagh and panicking rarely went hand in hand.  

She had her father’s confidence and her mother’s poise, pragmatic and rational in her thinking, but as the hours ticked by, her heart would somersault with nerves whenever she remembered. Even more so that she was taking a date with her, knowing Sean’s reaction would likely be, well, salty, to say the least.  

Rin knew as she sat having her hair and makeup done by her glam team that Saturday afternoon that the father of her child would undoubtedly think her taking somebody else to be a deliberate dig at him, after their shared late night and early morning of hot sex. Of course, the date with an investor's son, Jonathan North had been arranged well in advance, but she could well predict that Sean would take it personally as swipe toward him. 

He did not disappoint.  

“Catherine, you look radiant,” Ed greeted her with, standing from the table upon her arrival and kissing her cheek, gentlemanly as ever.  

“Thank you, Ed. Very dapper yourself, too.” she spoke, moving to greet Shannon with a double cheek kiss. She was about to at least go and say hello to Sean, but the face she was met with showed his hostility with abundance. She smiled nonetheless.  

His face didn’t move from the flared nostrils and clenched jaw seethe he viewed her with.  

The event itself went flawlessly, everyone enjoying themselves, Rin standing to deliver a speech as images of the animals at the reserve were beamed up onto a projected screen behind her, the wealthiest of London’s elite enamoured by her as well as her cause.  

The only thing that truly bothered her that night was after the dinner, when the tables were cleared and room made for people to dance upon the polished floor, others congregating at the sidelines to schmooze and talk business, was the fact the man she had arrived with was duller than a wet weekend in Glasgow.  

“So, I said to the chap, look, if your sales are not meeting the initial projections in the final quarter for the fiscal year then I surely am not going to find your proposal and attractive one, no matter how much Bollinger you ply me with!” Jonathan chuckled, Rin fixing a fake smile to her face, all the while being able to feel a glare upon her from a man who, surprisingly, was socialising with Ed and his daughter. “Just nipping outside for a cigar, back in a jiff.” 

He could have left for all she cared, Rin turning to take a glass of champagne from a passing member of the serving staff, sighing.  

“Tell me, Catherine.” That posh drawl sent the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end immediately, as did the very feel of him standing right behind her. “Did you bring a plus one purely to make me jealous, or do you actually enjoy spending time with such a monotoned dullard?” 

She smirked, turning to him. “Not everything is about you, Sean. My date was arranged weeks in advance of the event, so well before...” 

“Well before I fucked you so damned thoroughly, you had to have me twice in the space of eight hours, hmm?” he cut in with. 

Cocky bastard. “I believe you instigated it the second time.” 

“You didn’t exactly refuse me, though.” They stared one another down, the air seeming to thicken all around them, Sean leaning close to her ear. “If you want me to instigate it again, you’ve merely to say the word.” 

Licking her lip, she let him wait on it, nearing him in a deliberate move so that her breasts brushed his chest before veering off. “Lady Shand! How lovely to see you!” she then called, moving to shake hands with a very old, very wealthy looking woman who approached, leaving him burning. Oh no, he would not presume himself to be so irresistible that he could proposition her at any given moment. 

Equally, though, Sean would not take her rebuff lying down. Not after seeing the way her lust for him had danced in her eyes.  

As she moved from guest to guest, his gaze barely left her, catching her eye every so often. The look he gave her could buckle the knees of a the most hardened of women. 

And god, how she wanted the burn of that cool blue stare to light her up.  

“That chap over there, the redhead,” Jonathan began a while later, nodding in Sean’s direction. “An admirer of yours, perhaps?” 

Rin dared to look directly at him, swallowing hard, trying not to let it show, how even with just one look, Sean Wallace could erode her resolve until it fractured into pieces. “Something like that.”  

He snorted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Can’t he see that the lady is already spoken for?”  

Turning, she shrugged off his arm, giving him an incredulous stare. “Spoken for? You are my guest here, this the first time we have ever been out together. I think that spoken for is a somewhat presumptuous term, don’t you?” 

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I had thought the night to be going rather well.” Her eye roll told him much to the contrary. 

Just then, her attention was caught by a couple more guests, Rin excusing herself and happily walking away. She was delighted to hear that the social climbers she spoke with were very generously going to donate to her reserve, with the kind of sum that would surely leave them up by a few rungs upon the ladder they so wished to climb, Rin thanking them graciously before she made her way to the bar.  

“Large vodka rocks, please.” The barman had her furnished in no time, Rin downing the contents, requesting another immediately. She felt a body arrive behind hers as the fresh glass was placed before her, praying it wasn’t Jonathan. 

“He won’t, you know.” 

She closed her eyes, sipping her drink. “Won’t what?” 

“He won’t give you what you thrive upon. He won’t hold you down by the neck while he fucks you rough, won’t suck on your pretty little cunt until you burn incandescent with orgasm, won’t tell you how much of a dirty girl you are whilst making you feel like the most insanely sexual creature upon earth. He won’t satisfy any of your cravings, Catherine.” His hand skimmed her bare back, lips tickling her ear. “But I will.”  

God, how she knew he would.  

“All you have to do is say the word.” 

The arrogance! But oh, the fucking pull of that cocksure confidence. “I shan’t. Not for any other reason than to show you I am not as easy as you assume me to be.”  

Sinking her drink, she departed in the direction of the bathrooms, Sean waiting a beat before following her. A narrow corridor took her down to the ladies, feeling a tingle at her back halfway down the confined space, a hand on her shoulder halting her. “Sean, no.” She knew it was him before she’d even turned.  

“I do not assume you to be easy at all,” he spoke, closing the space between them. 

“No?” she questioned, lifting her chin in defiance. 

“No.” He moved to her, kissing the side of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. “Just the most impossibly fucking beautiful woman I have ever bloody laid eyes upon.” His kisses continued, arms snaking around her, fingertips brushing over the rounds of her bum. “Give in. You know you desire nothing more. Also, there’s just one more thing that the dullard will never do for you either, that I think you should know.” 

Her face was pained, sighing as she wetted her lips with a fast flick. “What?” 

“He’ll never look at you like I do. For he knows not what he truly has.” 

That erosion? He had worn her down to mere grains, no longer anything solid or tangible for her to use as a blockade between her sense of reason, and the lust she harboured for the man whose mouth she met with furious hunger.  

In that moment, she didn’t care that he well knew it either. All she cared about was the feel of his body pressing hard up against hers.   

[lovethelittlerthings]

CONTENT WARNING!! NSFW AND SPOILERS

A post dedicated to this beautiful, beautiful piece of fiction called It Will Come Back by @bitchsister

I made a playlist about this fic because I'm consumed by every waking moment just thinking about it. It is one of my favourite cattonquick fanfiction in existence.

LISTEN HERE for youtube

LISTEN HERE for spotify

Here are some lines that reminds me of songs that i know.

"Batty pair of eyes creepin' Aiming like a laser pointer Poor little vampire baby." "Strange you're not a threat to me I admire your dedication. Poor little vampire Don't you know? I'm a moon in daylight"

Creepin' BY Hayley Williams

"I am hungry I have been hungry I was born hungry What do I need?"

Abbey by Mitski

"To capture a predator You can't remain the prey You have to become An equal In every way" "So look in the mirror And tell me, who do you see? Is it still you? Or is it me"

Become the Beast by Karliene

"You hit me once I hit you back" "Love sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don't fit" "A kick to the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none"

Kiss with a fist by Florence and the Machine

"I once kneeled in shaking thrill I chase the memory of it still, of every chill Chided by that silence of a hush sublime Blind to the purpose of the brute divine But you were mine" "And I've never loved the darker blue Than the darkness I have known in you, honed from you"

Feel Better Love by Hozier

"And I will never ever be the first to say it But still I, you know I-I-I I would do it, push a button Pull the trigger, pull a mountain, jump off a cliff" "Think I'm a little bit, little bit A little bit in love with you But only if you're a little bit, little bit Little bit in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo love with me, oh" "Come here, stay with me, stroke me by the hair 'Cause I would give anything, anything To have you as my man"

Little Bit by Lykke Li

Here are some other lyrics that i think are perfect for this fanfic but i'm at my limit at the photos.

And it's all fun and games 'Til somebody falls in love But you've already bought a ticket And there's no turning back now 'Round and 'round like a horse on a carousel, we go Will I catch up to love? I could never tell, I know Chasing after you is like a fairytale, but I Feel like I'm glued on tight to this carousel This horse is too slow We're always this close Almost, almost, we're a freakshow

FreakShow arc is Carousel by Melanie Martinez

The deeper we fall The fear i'm in So bad ( why? ) Oh we, yeah Though i try to cope, and keep in control So hard (hard) And then we fall Even though i already know Somehow i can't let you go No way, no way, no way So we fall

Felix as House of Cards English Cover by Shane Orok

Well, I walked into your dagger for the last time It's like trying to start a fire with matches in the snow Where you can't seem to hold me, can't seem to let me go So I can't find surrender and I can't keep control You turn me inside out, and then you want me outside in You spin me all around, and then you ask me not to spin

Every time cattonquick fights because Felix doesn't want to accept that he's in love with Ollie scenes is Vampire Empire by Big Thief

What do you do with a loving feeling If the loving feeling makes you all alone? What do you do with a loving feeling If they only love you when you're all alone? Holding hands under a table Meeting up in your bedroom Making love to other people Telling each other it's all good Kisses like pink cotton candy Talking to everyone but me I'm stayin' on later just in case You come up and ask to leave with me

Cattonquick when they think they're slick, especially you Felix Catton as A Loving Feeling by Mitski

I wasn't jealous before we met Now, every woman I see is a potential threat And I'm possessive, it isn't nice You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice But now it isn't true Now everything is new And all I've learned has overturned I beg of you Don't go wasting your emotion Lay all your love on me

Felix being jealous of Bailey scenes as Lay All Your Love on Me by ABBA

Though I'm a geyser, feel it bubbling from below Hear it call, hear it call, hear it call to me constantly And hear the harmony only when it's harming me It's not real, it's not real, it's not real enough But I will be the one you need The way I can't be without you I will be the one you need I just can't be without you

Oliver pining as Geyser by Mitski

I wanna squeeze your thighs I wanna kiss your eyelids And corrupt your dreams I wanna crash your car I wanna scratch your cheeks I wanna make you sick I wanna sell you out Want to expose your flaws I wanna steal your things I wanna show you off I wanna tell you lies I wanna write you books I wanna turn you on I wanna make you cum Two-hundred times a day I wanna dry your tears every time you're sad I wanna be your what's happening

Their whole relationship as Gallery Piece by Of Montreal

AND SO MUCH MORE!

I have a total of 34 songs for It Will Come Back including more Mitski and Hozier!

I worked very hard for this playlist so i hope you'll like it <3

LISTEN HERE

[slitheringss]

24 Days of Gift Giving

Prompt by: @creativepromptsforwriting

Prompt List

Featuring my black!OC for a Levi X OC (author insert) future fic called And Yet, In Spite Of It All or AYISOIA. Thought it'd be fun to do a few drabbles for them while I outline and finish plotlines.

SOME lore for future reference: Mori is my OC's name, and she is a 'Guardian' that has been trapped on Earth. Guardians are 'biblically accurate angles', but they do not serve God but are protectors of the afterlife; extensions of Death itself. Their main purpose, though there is a 'hierarchy', is to guard the passage in between life and death, guiding the souls to death and fighting 'demons'. After a series of events, Mori is trapped in the mortal realm with a demon who she takes prisoner. She eventually befriends Levi and ends up joining the Scout Regiment. Meanwhile she learns what it means to be human and falls in love.

Okay, so now that that's out the way, I hope you enjoy these!

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Blackfem!OC

Content Warnings: Fluff, idiots in love, Alternative Universe- Angels & Demons (?) + Supernatural/Vampires

Prompt: Taking pictures when the other’s not watching

WC: 632

Charcoal lines danced across the page as long, calloused fingers looped and twisted in sharp yet precise marks.

She needed to be quick, as this was spur of the moment- a moment too sublime to dismiss.

The subject of her current piece, though this was far from their first rendition upon her pages, would eventually move. Not at all ruining-never ruining-the chance for an opportune sketch, but because they were important and so duty called upon them, taking them from her watchful eyes.

Her muse, a few feet away from where she rested against the dark, cool stone of the main building of the Scout Regiment, was tending to his mare. A lovely and frankly sweetheart of a horse who stood only a few heads higher than them. Levi Ackerman stood tentatively as he fed her a slice of an apple, palms flat as the mare dipped her head happily towards the offering.

Mori tried -and failed- to suppress the small smile pulling at her lips seeing the way his usually darkened eyes softened; almost childlike innocence sparkling as the mare ate from his hand. He looked younger in this moment, and Mori felt the beginnings of the eternal burn the soft lining of her throat.

Eyes that often reflected the soot and ash that she was oh so familiar with. The remnants of fires she's caused and fires set by the ones who only wished for everything and one to burn. Only to stand, alone, against the aftermath clinging to their skin, the smoke in their throat choking their airways. Loss, so deep, and continually draining, like that of water from a spigot. Taking and taking till one thinks there's nothing else left to take, only to be proven wrong time and time again. For one would take one look and think of tragedy.

But no tragedy was here. Only the visage of a man, at current, peace. Long-lived ghosts would find their way back, taking residence locked away behind cold eyes. But just as they would find their way, she would once again find herself at his side as well.

So yes, in a moment of his vulnerability, she guided her hands across the page. Firm dark lines detailing his sharp jawline yet lightening around softened features, such as his cheeks and hair. Pressing just a tad harder on the line strokes of his eyes to help emphasize what had prompted this drawing in the first place. To allow another memory of the man to be kept safely. A memento. For the times when she was not at his side to soak in the presence of the proprietor of her heart.

--------------

While his attention had stayed glued to his horse, hands running down her strong neck, he did his best not to glance at the women sketching afar. Whatever had caught her attention had her scribbling swiftly. Her supple lips pinched between her teeth, brows dipping together in concentration. She didn't stop, even as loose curly dark strands fell framing her battle seasoned face. Sunbeams, streaming through the leaves of a nearby tree, dappled her and highlighted her in a halo of pure light. Levi was not a religious man, but in that moment, holiness was her name. And in all her grandeur, Levi could not help but take a mental picture of her. To keep for those moments when she was not in his reach. She was at peace and tucked away, safe, for now. This world was cruel and yet, in spite of it all, he'd found something else to treasure.

--------------

Mercy could only watch her two idiots (affectionate) in amusement. While the apple was delicious, she was far more interested in sharing this particular treat with Pleiades. He was sure to get a kick out of this.

If you liked this, leave a like, reblog, or comment!

I have no planned release date for the actual story, so I hope you enjoy these samples until it's ready :)

See you again soon! o/

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 7: Sublime // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

sublime verb: to convert something inferior to something of higher worth; to transform adjective: beauty which inspires awe -- Scully remembers; Scully chooses.

Content warning for violence that, while not sexual in nature, does have sexual undertones. I went just a smidge farther than either show does in canon with the sexuality and violence, but only a smidge. Proceed with caution.

Scully wasn’t sure how long she lay there in the quiet dark beneath the earth, with only the distant dripping of water and her own, lonely heartbeat for company. She cried until her eyes were hot and dry, until her throat was raw and her nails had dug little half-moons into each of her palms. Mulder’s body grew cold beneath her cheek; the blood soaking his shirt was thick and sticky and would have pulled at her skin if she had the strength to move.

Guilt raked her with jagged claws. He had saved her—they had saved each other—so many times, arriving on that knife edge where “just in time” threatened to become “too late.” How many times had they kicked down the door, brandishing guns and a righteous fury that blazed away the darkness and left the nightmares with no place to hide? How many times had they pulled each other back from the brink of death, cleaned their wounds and brushed away their tears? And now, when he had needed her the most, she had been helpless to do anything. In her mind’s eye she watched him die again and again: the spill of blood, his frightened and pleading stare, that last echoing whimper of her name.

The little part of her mind not lost to grief kept screaming at her to get up, to find a way to escape, to get to Mulder’s friends back in town and figure out the next step. But she could not bear to leave him here: in the cold, in the dark, all alone. She could not lift her head from his silent chest, because to do so would be to admit that he was gone.

When he twitched under her cheek, she thought it was her imagination, that she had begun to shiver from the cold leaching into her from the damp stone floor.

Then he moved again.

Scully bolted upright, staring at him in disbelief. “Mulder?” she asked tentatively.

“Easy, love,” came a slithering voice from the corner, and Scully jerked around to see Lettie coming back into the cavern, still in the tattered wedding gown it had been wearing—though some of the stains were new. “Some of us are cranky when we first wake.”

“‘Us’?” she repeated. “‘Wake’? He was—he’s dead . Y-you killed him and…” She shook her head, trying to clear it, but her mind was reeling and her heart was skittering and he was dead, she had watched him die but Mulder was moving and it couldn’t be, couldn’t be…

“Not dead, girl. Just another naughty boy, another naughty boy who breaks the thing he loves, like all naughty boys do.” The thing was playing with a ring around one pale, bony finger, and its voice was sad. “They always break their favorite toys. And then they must be punished.”

It moved across the floor like a whisper; Scully scrambled away from it as best she could. It leaned down close to Mulder’s body; he was definitely moving now, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack,  his head moving from side to side like an infant rooting for mother’s milk. Its dark, dirty hair spilled over his face, partially hiding him from view as it whispered to him. She couldn’t hear what it said, but his eyes popped open and he was dead but he was staring at her now, mouth open and nostrils flaring like he could smell her.

“Hey, Scully,” he purred, in a voice her Mulder would never use, and her mouth went dry. The vampire slipped a key into his hand; he rose with an unnerving grace and stalked towards her. The hunger in his eyes kicked her panicking heart into a higher gear. He leaned down close to her, so close she could smell the vampire’s blood on his breath. His smile was a cruel knife between her ribs. “Miss me?”

“Mulder, what happened? What are you—?”

“I’ve got you, Scully. Just relax.” He reached behind her to unlock the cuffs around her wrists, and then did the same for her ankles. She rubbed the bruised flesh around her arms. “There. That’s better. Now, where were we?”

His hand was around her throat before she could answer, shoving her across the room; her back slammed into the wall and he lifted her until her face was level with his, her feet scrambling for purchase in the air. His thumb found the pulse point below her jaw and pressed, cutting off the flow of blood to her brain; her vision swam and her head pounded. She couldn’t speak, but she pleaded with him with her eyes overflowing with tears. Please, don’t. Not you, not to me.

He only smiled.

Behind them, Lettie was crying. “Naughty boys and broken toys,” it said over and over, clasping its arms around its body and rocking back and forth.

Scully’s eyes rolled back in her head, the pounding oblivion of unconsciousness filling her vision, when he finally loosened his grip. “Mulder, what—please...” She searched his eyes for the man she knew, hoping he was in there somewhere, hoping she could reach him. Tears traced hot lines down her cheeks. “Mulder, you don’t want to do this. You have to fight it.”

All she saw in his eyes was darkness. The Mulder she knew was gone.

This was a monster under his skin.

He touched his finger to her lips and leaned in so close his coppery breath stirred the fine hair behind her ear. “Shh, Scully. I just want to play.” He nipped at the skin of her jaw and she yelped. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

“You’ve got to let me go, Mulder. I can get help. Buffy, the others—”

“Don’t need help,” he growled. He slammed her backwards into the wall so hard her skull bounced; her ears rang, and she felt the warm trickle of blood in her hair. His nostrils flared as the smell of it hit him. “Need you.”

She sagged when he released her throat, unable to do more than keep herself upright as he gripped her wrist tightly and yanked it to his face. He ran his nose along the delicate ridge of her tendon, flicking his tongue out to taste the little blue vein. The shackles had left deep, purpling bruises, like a bracelet hung with jewels of blood where the metal had cut her. He licked at them, then suckled, and then moaned as he closed his mouth around her and bit down.

Scully cried out and tried to wrench her hand away, but he gripped her arm fiercely, squeezing the fine bones of her wrist until they creaked, driving his teeth deeper into her flesh. She grabbed his hair with her free hand, pulling with all her strength; he finally released her with a snarl and she screamed in pure, animal terror at the sight of his monstrous, yellow-eyed face.

This was not her partner. This was the thing that had killed him.

“What’s the matter, Scully?” he asked, his consonants muddled around the new, long teeth filling his mouth. “Don’t you have a kiss for me?”

He slammed her wrists into the wall above her head, gripping them in one large hand and lifting her until her feet were off the floor again. He yanked at the collar of her shirt hard enough to rip the buttons off; the thing that had been Mulder snuffled like an animal against the pale skin of her collarbone, tonguing the swell of her breast. She thrashed and kicked, but he only pressed his body against hers and wedged his knee between her thighs, pinning her in place.

“Come on, Scully,” he crooned. He scraped the tips of his fangs against her skin, leaving little red trails down her sternum. “Won’t you be a good girl for me?”

“Mulder, please—”

“Mmm, that’s right, beg.” He bit her again, burying his fangs in the soft flesh above her breast and drinking deeply. She was beginning to feel woozy and nauseous, breath coming in shallow pants. Her head rolled weakly, loose on her neck, and she stared up at the blood trickling down her arm from the wound at her wrist. Her fingers started to tingle. Hypovolemic shock , her mind supplied from some distant place.

Time began to slip away.

One moment she was pinned to the wall, a butterfly writhing helplessly as her wings were torn off; the next she lay on the floor, Mulder shoving her skirt roughly up her legs and kneeling between them to rip into the delicate flesh of her thigh. Femoral artery , she thought as her blood gushed into his mouth. Another swoon and he was on top of her, the bulge of him digging into her hip, his mouth fastened to her throat, moaning and rutting as he drained her. His tongue caressed the edges of the wound almost delicately, lapping at her veins like a kitten with a bowl of milk.

Again and again he bit her, her anatomist mind cataloging each one: iliac vein, radial artery, great saphenous vein, carotid, jugular. No single bite deep enough to be fatal, but the combination leaving her faint, cold, unbearably dizzy. Her screams turned to whimpers, her whimpers into breathless, begging whines. Hot, stinging tears leaked from her eyes, and her strength bled from her limbs with every swallow he took, until she could do nothing but lie there, helpless, as he devoured her.

Her body slipped away from her, the pain becoming a distant dream. She was fading, dying—

The Morrígna are there beside her, three hands and one holding hers tenderly. She watches what comes next from inside her body, through the dark gauze of the veil falling around her; and from outside it, tears streaming down her face.

Lettie creeps up behind Mulder, pulling a tarnished, blood-stained knife from the folds of its dress. He is nestled in the crook of her elbow, her spent veins trickling weakly into his mouth; Lettie’s  long, tangled hair brushes her skin like the writhing of maggots as it leans in to purr into Mulder’s ear. It slips the knife into his hand.

Then Lettie jerks, its spine twisting as it claws at its back; it wrenches a crossbow bolt from its shoulder and whirls with a hiss to face the opposite side of the cavern.

“My God.” Giles steps into the cavern, a flashlight in one hand and a large wooden cross in the other. The Scully on the floor hadn’t met him in person yet, hadn’t known his face, but she does now; his eyes widen in shock and recognition. “I was right. That’s Leticia Crane! On her wedding night in 1871—”

Buffy comes sailing out of the darkness, her feet landing in a flying kick squarely in the center of Lettie’s chest and sending the vampire crumpling to the floor. “Save now,” the girl grunts as she rolls back up into a fighting stance, “history later.”

Scully had missed this the first time around, slipping in and out of consciousness, hearing the fight more than watching. Even now it unfolds almost too fast for her to see. Buffy moves like a whirlwind, her fists and feet flying with inhuman speed, a one-woman army with a singular focus. Lettie slips between the blows like a wraith, a boneless and unnerving grace, here one moment and gone the next, slashing jagged nails toward the Slayer’s eyes to keep her from getting too close. Then it stumbles, caught in the tattered remnants of its dress, and that’s the only opening Buffy needs; she closes in, landing a series of punches and kicks that quickly force the vampire to the floor. She plunges a wooden stake into the monster’s heart.

The vampire’s eyes widen with shock and rage; it fumbles weakly at the stake protruding from its ribcage, helpless against the death that is coming for it at last. A grim satisfaction blooms in Scully’s chest as Lettie’s flesh crumbles into dust, its bones flake away, and finally the entire creature collapses into a heap of gray ash. It takes less than a second—over a century of bloody death, countless lives snuffed out to feed its hunger and pain, gone in an instant. It was too quick, she thinks. It wasn’t quick enough.

“Buffy, there’s another one!” cries Willow, cringing against the wall with a ball of light glowing between her outstretched hands. The other Scoobies crowd close behind her, draped in weapons and holy symbols.

The light spills across Mulder as he turns, snarling, to face them. He rises into a crouch, Scully’s spent and failing body forgotten as he scents fresh meat. He spins the knife in his hand and a slow smile blooms across his blood-smeared face as he advances on them.

Buffy is on him in an instant; her first kick knocks the blade from his hand, but he has the advantage on her in reach and mass. Though his new strength makes him clumsy, his combat training is evident in the smooth ripple of his body, in the swift volley of blows they exchange. The Slayer backs away, circling, studying him with cold and calculating eyes. Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth.

The Scoobies take advantage of his distraction to rush to Scully, lying in a pool of blood, breath shallow and eyes glassy. Tara drops to her knees beside her as the others take up defensive positions, a wall of flesh and crosses between Buffy’s battle with Mulder and Scully’s own, quiet struggle against the encroaching darkness. “Oh my god,” Tara says, fingers slipping and sliding in Scully’s blood as she probes her neck for a pulse. “Willow, she’s still alive! I need my bag!”

Willow turns, letting the light in her hand float upwards as she unslings a heavy canvas bag from her shoulder. She rummages through it and passes Tara a small jar, and they smear some kind of salve over Scully’s wounds. She remembers the smell of mint, the unbearable way it had itched. She watches her own body twitching as she tries to scratch, too weak to move.

“This will help stop the bleeding,” Tara whispers. “We’ve got you, okay? Stay with me.” Her arms are stained red up to the elbows, and her voice trembles with fear.

“We’ve got to put pressure on,” Willow pants. Her skin has gone green and a faint sheen of sweat covers her forehead, but her hands are steady as she begins to wrap long bands of cloth around the wounds on Scully’s arms. There are symbols written on the fabric in a rainbow of inks; Scully recognizes the caduceus and ankh among them—symbols of life and healing. Her blood seeps into the cloth and the symbols flare to life, their light throbbing in time to her weak and thready pulse. Enchanted bandages , she realizes. They saved my life with magic bandaids.

“Move her hair, there’s one on her throat that—”

“Please.” Scully is shocked at the strength in her voice, coming from that broken doll of a body. She is so pale—eyelids and lips blue, cheeks ashen, her blood-matted hair shockingly dark against her skin. Her hand lashes out with startling strength to clamp around Willow’s wrist. Her eyes flutter open but roll in her head, unable to focus, and her whole body shakes with cold and shock. She has to force the words out through teeth clenched to stop their chattering. “Please, help him.”

Willow pushes a clump of sticky hair off Scully's face. “Miss Scully?” she gasps. Her mouth hangs open as she makes the connection, the horrible realization, then she yells over her shoulder. “Buffy! That’s Mulder!”

Buffy’s eyes widen and she freezes for half a second, just long enough for Mulder to land a solid punch to her jaw. They clash, break apart, come together again in a dizzying flurry of fists and fangs. Scully knows how this fight ends—Buffy manages to subdue Mulder, binds him in chains, and she and the Scoobies drag them both back to the surface. But she cannot stand to watch Buffy beat him halfway to oblivion, to watch him try to murder one of his friends. She turns away.

“It wasn’t him,” she finally manages to say. Giles had said as much, in those first dark hours after Mulder’s soul was returned, when she had finally allowed them to take her to the hospital; as she had lain in a nest of IVs and monitor wires and listened to him explain how the world she thought she understood was barely more than a thin skin to hide the incomprehensible horrors beneath. How what had woken in that dark, cold hell was not her partner, not the Mulder she had known, but a demon wearing his face. They’d brought him back, restored his soul, but the demon would always be inside him, lurking and tempting and thirsting for blood. Like an infection that could only be managed, but never cured.

Until now.

For a dizzying moment, Scully is in three places at once—on the stone floor deep beneath the earth, her blood trickling out of her in fits and starts as she flickers back and forth across the line between life and death; in the crumbling graveyard church, her skin glowing with starlight and a blade plunging toward her heart; and in the strange place in between that the Morrígna have made for them.

The world goes still as a photograph.

The Mulder in the cave is a snarling monster, crouched and foaming pink at the mouth as he circles the Slayer, looking for the opportunity to strike. His hands twist into claws, still dripping with Scully’s blood; his face a mask of twisted rage, smeared with red. That Mulder is a terror, a demon wearing his skin, empty of everything but bloodlust and rage.

The Mulder in the church is the picture of agony, his mouth opening in a futile cry and tears brimming in his eyes. The muscles of his neck and shoulders strain as he fights Buffy’s grip, trying to wrench the knife away from its deadly descent—trying until the last to spare Scully’s life, even though it will cost him his own.

That is the Mulder who held her hand as she held her dying daughter, the only thing left to do for a life doomed before it began. Who had nearly lost his life trying to save her from Duane Barry’s trunk, and gave up everything to sit at her bedside when she was returned. The one who refused to let her sully her name and reputation even as she lay begging him on her deathbed, blood in her nose and on his hands. The one who found her at the edge of the earth and breathed life back into her frozen body.

Memories cascade through her again, with that same strange sense of the Morrígna paging through her mind like a book. She opens, welcomes them, lets the sensations spill out of her—vibrant as life, ephemeral as love. Mulder dragging her ghost-busting on Christmas Eve, so she wouldn’t have to be alone on a grim anniversary, exchanging gifts they’d both sworn they wouldn’t buy. Mulder sitting with her on a rock in the middle—or not—of a lake, cracking jokes about cannibalism five minutes into their stranding, dissecting the nature of obsession. Mulder’s voice on the phone no fewer than seventeen times the one weekend she tried to go on vacation, just to tease her about black magic while he threw pencils into the ceiling. Mulder’s hands on hers, wrestling over a baseball bat, hitting line-drives into a diamond field of stars. My constant, my touchstone.

Mulder, laughing madly with her in the rain.

That is the man she knows. That is the man she would die for.

That is the man she…

Certainty washes over her, warm as the tears on her cheeks.

Scully touches her chest and her flesh parts like water around her hand. There is no pain, not exactly—only the ache of a life unlived, of words never spoken. She reaches inside herself, seeking out the flame in her heart, and her hand emerges cupped around a mote of brilliant, golden light. It is blinding in its intensity, like a captured star, and she knows it should burn and scorch and sear her flesh from her bones; but it is soft as sunlight through a dusty basement window, tender as a hand in hers. It pulses gently in her palm.

She reaches for Mulder, for the center of his chest where the light from the knife has not yet spread to the symbols she had painted above his heart. A wound filled with shadow blooms in his chest; sludgy tendrils of black smoke writhe inside it like a living thing, spreading to wrap his body in darkness. A hideous cold radiates from it with a force that makes her want to recoil. It hurts her just to look at, just to stand in its aura of blackest winter that bites and tears and howls for the hot gush of fresh blood.

She can only imagine how he must feel with it living inside him.

Scully forces herself forward into that icy shadow, brandishing her flaming heart like a weapon. Every place the light touches, those coils of piercing darkness shriek and shrink and wither away. She knows now why the Morrígna would not let her proceed without all her memories intact; there can be no place for darkness or doubt as she presses forward, no shadow that this blight could hide behind. The fire she wields was not born from a single spark; it is born from the striking heat of flint and steel that has defined their every word and touch and gaze, every fight for and against each other, every brush of their fingers since that first fateful handshake in the basement, banked and kindled and built for years into the blinding incandescence that pulses in her hand with a life of its own.

What darkness could stand against that?

The shadow in Mulder’s heart crumbles into ash and flakes away before light in her hand, until she is staring at the empty wound in his chest. “He’ll be okay?” she asks at the last; she can no longer see the Morrígna through the blinding light, through the stinging veil of tears in her eyes, but she can feel them close by; the weight of their sadness and hope rests like a cloak over her shoulders.

They answer in one voice, in a chorus of voices, in her own voice. “The light casts out the darkness. The flame kindles life where once was death. To share it freely with another, to yield it unto him that he might live: there is no greater gift, no more perfect sacrifice.”

Scully nods, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat, and tucks the light into Mulder’s chest; the symbols on his skin glow and begin to pulse with the same slow, steady rhythm as the flame. She lays her hand over the wound, watching as the edges knit themselves together, but rather than fading away, the light instead grows even brighter, flooding through the symbols burned into his chest and stomach and arms until they burn too brightly to look at. It fills his eyes, shines through his skin until she can see the shadowy ghosts of his bones beneath; the world turns gold, then white, until she can barely make out his face in the blinding radiance. She feels the heat of it now, as if she is a wisp of cloud, a bubble of sea foam, dissolving in its brilliance. She lets it subsume her.

As her last sense of self evaporates in that overwhelming light, she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Goodbye, she tells him. Live .

I promise I'm done killing people after this. Y'all when I say this chapter almost killed me! It took by far the longest to write, because landing a plot plane is hard. And then. AND THEN. I LOST like 90% of it in a pebcak error (Problem Exists Between Chair And Keyboard, aka it was my own damn fault for not saving) and cried for hours. I almost threw up. Haven't felt that level of slow-dawning visceral horror since the last time I accidentally deleted a paper in high school. It took even longer to reconstruct than it did to write the first time, and I'm not entirely sure the second try is as good as the first, but here we are. I hope it broke your heart! <3 My immense and eternal thanks to@perpetually-weirdening and @storybycorey for putting up with my insanity as I struggled with the same 4 lines for a solid week. I was lost in the trees and they helped me see the way through the forest. We're in the home stretch now! Comments, scrapbook, you know the drill. (I am 100% literal about this. I keep it by my computer for motivation.)

[aikoiya]

LoZ: TotK - Sky Island Fruit

I wonder what Fire Fruit, Ice Fruit, Dazzle Fruit, & Splash Fruit taste like.

I'm pretty sure we all know that Shock Fruit tastes like lemon. No, Starry or Ghost Citrus! And I think it'd tingle on the tongue like pop rocks, but what about the rest?

For the sake of worldbuilding, I need to figure this out.

Guaranteed, Splash Fruit is juicy af. Like, watermelon juicy. Maybe it tastes like a combination of apples soaked in white grape juice & white grapes soaked in lemon juice. It's the relative shape & color of a calabash, so it has a slightly bitter edge to it & a scent of squash & coconut water. - I've sort of renamed it in my head to Calasplash.

Fire Fruit are inspired by uchuva, Chinese lantern fruits, a/o cape gooseberries, so they'd likely taste like them too. So, sweet, yet tart & tangy when ripe, but sour when not. Possibly has a flavor profile a bit like spiced mandarin oranges, tomatoes, & cherries. The fruit has a similar texture to a cherry tomato. I do also think that if you were to remove the lattice leaf protecting the fruit inside & tear the actual fruit open, the juice that'd spill out would be on fire. Just liquid fire or napalm, but edible. I remember in the Wrinkle in Time movie that Disney did (the 2004 one, not the remake), Mrs. Whatsit pries open a fig-looking fruit (I think) to spill its contents on a bundle of wood, the juice was on fire, which starts the wood on fire. That's sort of what I think it'd be like. The juice would also sizzle on your tongue but wouldn't burn. Instead, it's pleasantly hot. Not warm, hot. Like a hot bath or a hearth. - Named it Fuegochuvá.

Ice Fruit, I just learned, might be in some way inspired by the ice apple. Which, the heck?? Why am I only just learning about this mess??? But whatever; they'd likely take cues from that. So, Ice Fruit would actually be legitimately transparent to a degree. Known to be mildly sweet, often compared to the flavor of coconut. Their flesh has been described as jelly-like in consistency & biting into the center results in a burst of sugary-sweet juice. - Beyond that, I'd make them actually cold & refreshing, they are mildly sweet & per a really good suggestion I got, they'd taste like champaign grapes, but also a little bit like white grapes with a hint of Palm Fruit (as noted above). Their flesh would be gelatinous with a thin skin like a frost bubble (think a dry ice bubble used in mixology). And, because I wanna insert a tiny bit of wonder into this, you can literally do that breathing frost thing that you can do when it's really cold, but at any time of year or temperature every time you take a sip. Kids & grown-up children (gestures to oneself) would most likely love them. - Also, evidently, if you get a cooler, put any sort of small fruit inside with some dry ice for 20 minutes, then the dry ice sublimates, the fruit absorbs it, & you'll get a type of carbonated frozen fruit! I'm thinking to find one that I can use to add onto the flavor profile of the Ice Fruit. It just seems like too "cool" of an idea to pass up. Problem is, I'm not quite sure what kind of words to use to describe it in a more "literary" way yet.

For a bit more information on these IRL ice apples (Borassus flabellifer), it's a tropical fruit that grows on sugar palm trees in India. The ice apple is also known as Tadgola in Marathi & Hindi, & Nungu in Tamil. They are found inside a coconut-like fruit that grows on sugar palm trees & acts as a coolant. They are fleshy & transparent with yellowish jelly-like flesh & a slightly square-ish shape. - So, now it's Frostangola.

I'm still not sure what Dazzlefruit would taste like, though. And no clue what it's inspired by. It'd probably have a bright, light flavor, hmm?? Still no clue, but they look a little like guanabanas, so I might use that. - It's a Dazzlebana.

If anyone has any ideas, I'm all ears.

LoZ Wild Masterlist

[koscheicore]

*appears*

(imagine that one random time-lord in The Autons, floating mid-air)

Greetings once again,

Some more questions for you, because THOSCHEI, THOSCHEI, THOSCH-…..

Prepare yourself for a barrage of questions! (No pressure ofc)

Commencing in three, two, one..

*explosion*

1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 11, 12, 17

21 - Headcanons for your favourite ainley pairing

24 – gimme more info about the thoschei fan incarnations that occasionally pop up on your feeds. It is vital information!!!

*looks around at the impact caused by the questions*

Whoops

Have a good day/week! :)

*disappears*

SO IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG, THAT TIMELORD... That makes sense! Thank you so much for all the quest- (loud explosion) AAAAH!

(sooo prepare for a very long post 🤣)

1. How did you get into thoschei?

(gets out from under the table) Uhhh has the noise stopped? Yea. Okay. So it all started when I heard a rhythm of four beats?? And then I think my brain got infected. All I could think about is some sad pathetic aliens hugging each other and I guess one was dead and??? then he wasn't? Yeah so I saw tensimm and I got obsessed. That was, if my calculations are correct, about 8 years ago.

2. What is your favourite thoschei flavour?

At the moment it's fiveainley! Or sevencrispy...

3. What is, in your opinion, the most toxic thoschei dynamic?

Why did I even make this question. All of them there's no salvaging the toxicity. Uhh imma go with tensimm or spydoc though

5. Any fan content recommendations?

Honestly THBU it's just. Sublime. Okay so I might have been about to cry just one chapter in? Yeah??

Also Please Attend Carefully if you want podcasts abt the Master because who doesn't.

Now, that's all sfw but on the spicy smut side, here's a fiveainley fic that plays with hypnosis. I found it interesting how the author wrote it in first person, and their Ainley voice is just fantastic. Make sure to read the tags first though!

Do also check the ppl I reblog from's profiles some of them have AO3 accts I plan on munching on when I can!

8. Favourite thoschei story?

Honestly the Master audio atm. Or the Five Doctors cuz it's really funny to see Ainley TRY... just really try... Btw 1st Doctor x Ainley!Master when

Ngl I have to rewatch all the nuwho episodes w the master on it so my thoughts might change. These two stories are consuming my brain rn

9. Favourite thing they have said canonically to each other?

"Wonder what I'd be without you"

"Yeah."

And this

11. Song that reminds me of them?

I want to make an animatic with this so badly

12. Any thoschei headcanons?

My most heartfelt headcanon for them is this if it even counts as one 🤔

17. What's an underrated thoschei pairing?

SIXAINLEY FFS SIXAINLEY IS SO UNDERRATED. More of them pls...

21. Headcanons for your favourite Ainley pairing

No I'm not picking just one >:0

Fiveainley:

-In my head the Master contacted Fivey after the whole cheetah stuff in hopes he could help him. Not talking abt how good or bad that went but Fivey can't remember anyways.

-The Master loves the smell of Fivey's sweaters. Anytime he's entered his TARDIS he's stolen a few. Fivey still doesn't know where they went.

-Oh it's definitely Ainley!Master's fault the Doctor's regenerations became weirder. Yeah after what he did to Fivey he just messed them up. Like Fivey's legs. Hey, if the Master is having trouble being in a Trakenite body it's only fair, right?

Sixainley:

-The most likely pair to do spicy stuff actually. They're both into BDSM although probably not in a sexual context exactly. No I won't elaborate

-The cat pin? Yeah that's something the cheetah Master left in the TARDIS during that Fivey visit. Six just doesn't know. The Master finds it amusing.

-The Rani has tried to block all contact with the Master because he keeps calling her to talk about his latest plan to kill the Doctor. She's so tired.

Oneainley:

-The Master actually visited 1 on a few occasions during the Doctor's past after the events of the Five Doctors, wearing disguises of course so he wouldn't recognise him later.

-He invited him to lunch and they conversed. The Master finds this Doctor kind of endearing in a way, he's the closest he has to things being alright between them anyways. Just some quiet conversations, no mention of the Master or Gallifrey. No murder intent, they just were. Two "strangers" sharing lunch having candid intellectual conversations.

-Eventually, he stopped. Why? I leave that to your imagination.

24. Talk abt your fan Doctor and Master incarnations

OKOK IM GLAD YOU ASKED... So I met this classmate who's a dw fan and as we became friends he told me he had his own fan Doctor incarnation. Eventually we started LARPing for fun and I made my own Master, then we started making up tons of stories and that's how they came to be!

ONE DAY HOWEVER... He said. What if the Master and the Doctor were bigenerated?? Yeah from the same entity but the Time Lords erased their memories. And Dhawan!Master knew this but that one bit he never told, the Doctor never uncovered it, and this is part of why Dhawan wanted to become the Doctor. And boy this broke my heart because thE IMPLICATIONS. That'd mean the Master is ALSO the Timeless Child. So now that's canon for my Master and surprise, it's been selfcest all this time except not exactly because they are not the same anymore and they can never be.

So based off that, my Master loves to make a point on how different they are whilst his Doctor searches for similarities instead when he learns this. My Master is convinced that they're destined to be the worst parts of the Doctor forever, whilst the Doctor got "the better part". So why would they make it easy for him? Gallifrey is gone anyways so let's prove they can never be the same. Let's prove they're DONE. And they're immortal too I guess so why conform with having nothing no. They're owed the Universe and they're not sharing. Meanwhile the Doctor is wondering what would be of the Master if they had lived anything similar than what they did, if they're actually the same, if there's any kindness left on them, if they could have become the Master... He's stuck on his past in a way, too, missing companions and simpler times and stuff. And I intend to destroy his hopes of truly enjoying his current self you know?

...so yeah uh we also have companions we're making and we're slowly developing all of this + some random "episodes" (plots. that is) and one of them is Dak. Dak is well, kind of a Dalek kind of not. I have no idea how this happened he hasn't told me yet but apparently Dak has the genes of one of his companions? His mind when he was a child. So he's like a curious kid travelling with the Doctor except he's got Dalek Issues (tm) and I have such awful plans for him I'm so sorry little Dak ily but Daleks can never be good you know ☺️☺️ And I also have my subconscious eating beings that hate the Master for reasons but shhh. My friend doesn't know yet.

Anyways here's my Master treating the Doctor with love as usual

-----

Hey... hey. Wait. Don't go! *looks around* Uh... who will help me pay for all the repairs??? 😭

ALSO thank you so much for that twogado recommendation I will proceed to scream

[hijirichigo]

Prologue: Chapter 9

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belong to +ONE by Ikemen Series and KansaiTV. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games.

Shina: I think… although Sui’s satisfied with his work in Sublime, part of his heart is still with Lit… 

Shina: If he’s bottling up any unresolved matters… I want to help.

Shina: But… none of us can do that. 

Shina: … Neither can the members of Lit. You're probably the only one who can help him. 

Shina: I’m sorry for being this useless. We’ll do our best to help, but if you can… 

Shina: Please… look out for Sui. 

(Even if you say that…!)

The unexpected responsibility placed on me felt like a boulder on my chest. 

(Why me, of all people…)

I let out a sigh and looked up at the clouds. 

Koto: This is too much… maybe I shouldn't have come today. 

Kei Midoh: I was kind of looking forward to seeing you here, though.

Koto: … Eh!?

I heard a familiar voice. 

The same voice that had accompanied me from the very first day of going to school in groups during first grade, all the way till college… 

Koto: Kei-kun!?

Kei: Long time no see. 

Kei: I heard you were hanging around the club room last week. 

Koto: Word sure travels fast, huh. Yeah, I was helping out with this party. 

Kei: So you’re a freelancer now? Haru-san mentioned that an article you wrote was good, but wouldn't tell me where it's published. 

Koto: Uhhhh, I think I’d be embarrassed if you read it… 

Kei: Oi, what’s that supposed to mean? 

We’d been together since childhood… 

Even though we attended the same college, we were in different faculties, studying different subjects. It eventually became harder to find time to spend together… 

During our first year of college, Kei-kun grew distant from the music club, and so did I by our second year. 

In the end, even when I left Lit, we never had a proper conversation about it. I wonder how much time has passed since then?

Kei: You were from the faculty of literature, right? I bet you’re meticulous with your interviews. 

Kei: If you ever feel like it, I’ll give you an interview. I’ll even tell Miyamoto-san. 

Koto: Ugh, isn't it kind of cheating to use our childhood friendship like that?

Kei: Stupid. Use what you can. Freelancing is tough work. 

Koto: Woahhh look at Kei-kun over here all grown up… acting soooo mature now…

Kei: Come again?

Hijiri: Oof, picking a fight already. Kei’s been that frustrated, huh. 

Reiya: Yeah. Just mentioning to him that we met Koto-chan had Kei’s eyes narrowing sharply. 

Kei: Wha—... now you guys are just spouting nonsense…! 

Haru: Hijiri-kun, that's enough. We’re about to perform an upbeat song, so let’s not spoil the mood. 

Hijiri: I’ll throw him off by slamming random piano keys mid-performance if he keeps sulking. 

Reiya: It’s our first live performance in a while, you’ll end up getting an earful if you improvise too much on the spot. 

Koto: Um, guys? Is it really okay for you to be slacking off here like this!? 

The atmosphere felt nostalgic and heartwarming. Part of me wanted to stay here forever— but this wasn't where I belonged. 

I chided them as they seemed to be getting too carried away with their idle chattering. 

Checking the time on “Mebi-usa”, the bunny-shaped clock I always carried with me— I saw that it was almost time for the opening ceremony. 

Koto: I’m looking forward to today’s performance. 

Koto: Lit, go on and shine like you always do!

Kei: … Yeah. We will!

Kei: Alright! Let's go! 

Unlike the four of them who dashed off, I started walking slowly—