#A LOST RAVEN「visage」

[lotrmusical]

My high school did a yearly poetry recitation contest (Poetry Out Loud), so Oh Boy do I know some poems. My favorites are Ozymandias and "the world is about to end and my grandparents are in love," by Kara Jackson. Also in 8th grade we had a Poe unit and had a class contest to make the best music video of the Raven, so I still know a good chunk of that.

i hadn't heard of the kara jackson one! just read through it and enjoyed it, particularly these lines > 'grandma returns to her love like a hymn, marks it with a color. // when the world ends will it suck the earth of all its love? /will i go taking somebody’s hand, / my skin becoming their skin?'

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! idol x manager! gn! reader

WOOOH finally able to update. I got busy due to working for a summer reading camp. Woop tee doo... At least I got money for a new phone LMAO

And we finally, FINALLY finished the second set of yans! For now, no new yans will be done, and will be focusing on the boys!

Song featured: Too Sweet by Hozier

EDIT: I FORGOT THAT I MADE ELIAS THE SIBLING OF THE YAN! IDOL AND ALREADY NAMED HIM ZAYNE! I'll probably just change Zayne's to Tae-Joon.

Yan! Idol name: Raven/Tae-Joon

The deafening lights and cheers of the people in the gigantic stadium rang around the building. They kept cheering, almost shaking the whole place from their energy.

As the band started playing the intro song, the cheers suddenly amped up in intensity with the focus going back on the stage. Each and every lightstick glowed red, flooding the whole area with a scarlet hue.

The bass pumped, the music riffed, the vibe electric.

The stage fogged up, covering the whole place before the cheering got louder when a appeared in the fog.

Then, there he is.

"HOW'S IT GOING CITY OF [redacted]!"

A charismatic, boyish smile, with pearly white teeth that blinded the secret paparazzi in the crowd, with a tall and lean stature that encompasses talent and discipline in one body, and facial features that make people swoon even in just his photocards.

"RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

The man, the idol named Raven, started to sing. His voice was smooth and low as the romantic yet also sensual lyrics pour out of his pink lips.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well?

He goes up to the edge, swinging around the mic stand as if it was a dance partner. One can hear the passion going off in his tone as his messy hair got flipped upward.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

He gets on the middle of the stage, and the pedestal raised as the spotlight went to him.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

Everyone was seduced, everyone was mesmerized. Raven gave off seductive energy that they held their breath every time his gaze penetrates them. And some even assumed his gaze was on theirs, making them squeal.

It was truly a night for everyone in the stadium.

After almost two hours of performing, Raven, with sweat pouring out of him but still managed to look amazing, descended down on the stage hatch.

But the once shining star back in the stage suddenly threw his beret on the ground.

"FUCK! What was that buzzing sound in the dance break?!" Raven yelled. "Are you serious?! I thought we went over this!"

The people in the back started to groan inwardly. There he goes again.

"Ah... Tae-Joon..." The director said, "We made sure to reprimand the lights and sounds..."

Raven, or rather Tae-Joon off stage, clicked his tongue in anger. "Whatever. Bring me my coffee! I need a break."

"But you can just go home after the cleanup. Do you still want coffee?"

A naive voice said, obviously new to the scene as she juggle with her box of wires.

She's a big fan of Raven and pulled a lot of strings just to be there. A bit bold, she decided to be the concerned type of staff and berate him of his beverage choice.

Yet she absolutely cannot see the pale faces and the dread sticking on the visages of the people around her. She's in too deep in her tunnel vision of Raven to notice his microphone cracking. Another thing to add to the casualties.

"You... What's your name?" Raven glowered. The fan can feel her heart rate pick up as she told her name. "Oh. You're new. All i could say is..."

Raven got up to her and glared at her much smaller form "You're fired. Get out! Nobody gets to dictate what I damn drink!"

The woman was too stunned to speak as she got dragged out of the venue.

This is Raven. Or in real life, Tae-Joon. A charming man in his own right, in front of the public, he's a gentleman with a seductive touch. Talented, with a handsome visage, he's an international idol.

But in reality, he's one hell of a spoiled brat.

"I WANT MY COFFEE NOW!"

Somehow, because of his sheer dumb luck and his reputation, nobody from his staff decided to expose him for what he really is.

He's full of himself and loves to gloat about his own achievements. And one thing he makes sure to take advantage of is his looks.

He brushes his hair back, shaking off sweat (ew) yet somehow looks so ethereal as he clicked his tongue in annoyance, mesmerizing his staff.

He even went as far as to feed his delusional fans and stans.

He's that far gone.

"Where the hell is my coffee!"

"AY COFFEE!"

He's awful to everyone.

Except...

"Tsk. Tae-Joon... If I hear you yell one more time!"

Raven cowers a bit, pouting as he slithers towards his manager.

"But manager~!"

As if he's a new person, Raven clung to you. His head on your shoulder as he played with your left hand.

"I want my coffee and none of these incompetent people are giving me my coffee!" He whined like a child complaining to his parent. "Scold them for me pwease!"

The staff, used to it, sighed in relief as your deadpan look didn't tolerate Raven's rudeness. On your right hand is his coffee that you handed to him.

"Manager! Thank you so much!" His eyes wide and appreciative, he sips on it and sighs in relief. "Ah... So good... This is why I love you, manager."

Goodness. He's putty in your hands.

Tae-Joon was once a trainee. He's naturally good looking already so he's being pulled left and right by companies to be in their side. He's an uncut gem, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. They saw his potential and wanted a slice of his being.

The once sweet boy, hardened by the harsh training, became a gloating hardhead from the way these people fight for him. After all, he was just a quiet, ambitious guy in highschool. He wanted more, and he got it through hard work and natural charm. And now, years later, he's about to reach his dreams.

Yet once he got in the company of his choice, his demands were... Too much.

"I need to share a dorm with others? No way!"

"Ugh the mattress is too stiff."

"Seriously?! You want me to train for five hours a day?! Two hours! Just two hours!"

"What are these clothes?! These are not branded!"

"No way that I'm performing in that small stage. I don't care if I'm pre-debut, that is ass!"

"Trash beats. Next."

The company was exhausted. He's not even raking money in, yet he's too demanding for his own good.

Desperate, the company opened their doors for a babysitter manager that has a "calm and pleasing personality", "trait that can work in high stress situations", "adaptability", "great leadership skills and authoritative", and can "teach those who are under them". Aka: someone who can tame the damn bird.

That's where you came in.

You were just a fresh graduate in desperate need of a job. Nobody was hiring you since you're new, and needed more experience.

The hiring process was intense, to say the least. You had to herd rowdy children and change them to upright good kids in 10 days. You somehow did it and even got gifts from the grateful parents. Next, you had to juggle schedules and ridiculous demands. Then, you had to endure being yelled and insulted at.

Your mind, heart, and body are now made of steel from that hiring process and you're the only one who rose to the top.

"Congratulations. Here's your care. His name is Tae-Joon, stage name Raven." The head said, nervous and hopeful that you with Tae-Joon will change his attitude.

Tae-Joon raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Ugly."

You were flabbergasted. This is a supposed to be future idol?

But you can only manage a twitch on your lips.

It was hell with him. You thought the hiring process/training regimen was bad, but this was something else.

A explosive personality, he's sassy and mean to a point of wanting to face palm through your head. You had to physically reel him in at some point just because of a hater.

But unlike the others who cowered and tolerated his behavior, you were stern with his behavior and lectured him most of the time.

"You can't just yell at miss Park just because she messed up your order!"

"Get the hell up! You're going to be late to your training!"

"Who the heck do you think you are, ripping up clothes like that huh?!"

You were feisty in your own right and constantly butt heads with him.

But even then, even just with you around, he's just a growling beast cowering from your lectures as you yelled at him.

Yet, even if as you yell at him, your caring hands wiped his sweat off and gave him his water. If somebody actually messed with him, you would lecture that guy. And there are some times that you laugh at his antics and shake your head.

You treated him like an actual human with feelings, rather than a ticking time bomb.

Slowly but surely, Tae-Joon clung to you. You were his only ally in this godforsaken industry and the only one who understood him. You also didn't tolerate his personality and shaped him to be somehow decent.

And, as his manager, you cared for him like nobody did.

Your lectures became less frequent, and he had more instances to see where you smile at him proudly as he finally had his solo debut. More time to talk to him normally, and had small, intimate moments that fuels his social needs.

And as his fame skyrocket, you were always there, waving his lightstick and being his number one fan.

Understandably, he fell for you.

He started to be openly affectionate with you, constantly confessing his love to the point that management had to tell him off to stop being so open with his affection since paparazzi can take a video or picture and ruin his reputation.

He honestly doesn't care. But with you raising an eyebrow at him, he pouts and only becomes clingy in private.

He'd rather hold it in than nothing at all.

And hell be damned if someone took you away from him. Because he may be somehow tolerable now, but that's only because you're there with him.

Raven just got back from practicing for his new song, and was totally exhausted. He dragged his feet, clearly irritable especially that you weren't there with him.

The staff knew he's not in a good mood so they steer clear of his way.

"Have you seen my manager?" Raven asked a staff who only shook their head. "'kay..."

He looks so depressed that the people around him took pity on the guy as he trudged towards the head.

He passed a meeting room and he heard your voice.

"Another Tae-Joon?"

Another him? What?

He decided to listen in and he heard the managerial head clear his throat.

"Yes. Since Raven is calmer now, we think he needs to move on to another manager. You, on the other hand, will be training another... Hothead."

You held your head, feeling a headache incoming.

"No way. I'm not going through that again. I went through hell with Tae-Joon before. I'm not repeating that."

Ouch. Tae-Joon held his chest, a bit saddened by your words. Well, it was true but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Yet... You're not going to be his manager anymore?

Strangely, he felt the numbness creeping up his nape.

"No buts, y/n. You're going to be transfered."

"Did you ask Tae-Joon about this?"

"... Yes, Raven gave the thumbs up."

Liar. LIAR!

Tae-Joon wanted to rush in the room and shake the managerial head until he faints. He didn't give the thumbs up at all!

But he's strangely rooted in place as he heard you sigh.

"Okay. Where's this guy?"

"His name is [redacted]. He'll be here by Monday so be prepared."

When you finally finished the meeting, you went out of the room yet felt a lingering warmth by the wall.

Meanwhile, Tae-Joon rushed towards the trainee building. Eyes cold yet body tense. He wanted to see who the hell is this [redacted]. Nobody, as in nobody will be yours. Only he can be yours.

The trainees were flabbergasted as they saw Raven in the flesh, gawking at his presence and bowing in respect.

Tae-Joon didn't care. He wanted to see where this [redacted] is.

Room 5, and he bursts open through the door.

"What the hell- Raven?" The guy was slack jawed, starstruck. "I'm- I'm a big fan--"

Tae-Joon grabbed his collar and looked him in the eye. It was filled with unbridled rage yet at the same time, bone chilling coldness.

"Fix your fucking attitude." Tae-Joon warned. "Don't be over your head, worm. You better be goddamn nice or else I'll lob your head off."

[redacted] felt like it wasn't just a baseless joke, so he swallowed his saliva and nodded.

"Now. I better see you demand a transfer to the group idol department. You hear me? You aren't debuting solo." Tae-Joon tightened his grip. "Understood?"

It reached the ears of the head that Tae-Joon threatened [redacted]. But don't know what. All they know is that [redacted] pleaded to debut in a group and was suddenly meek and quiet when he transfered departments.

Yet, they somehow knew it had to do something with you, as he clung to you desperately for a week after that.

Then and there, they knew to never, ever try to separate you from him. If they don't want to let go of their greatest asset and set him off.

So, despite how dangerous Raven has become, they forced [redacted] to be quiet by... Not so savorable means.

"You're not leaving me, right?" Tae-Joon whispered, looking exhausted yet satisfied as he hugged your waist.

You, who just realized how deep Tae-Joon is in his affection, sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not."

And it better stay that way.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Welcome Back.

From the moment those tall iron gates— elegant and ebony—swing open and you pass through them, a dizzying nostalgia floods into you. Here is the line that divided the rest of the world from the campus guard behind its barrier. The air is thick with magic, tasting sweet as you sip it.

This feeling, you think, head buzzing from the thrill, can be matched by nothing else.

You’re in a crowd, allowing yourself to be swept up by it and carried along its current. Men in casual wear, men in formal suits, men in outlandish and odd attire. All of you, set on the same path down Main Street.

Seven statues stand erect, monuments to seven great historical figures.

The Queen of Hearts, her rounded proportions blossoming from a patch of roses. She holds up part of her skirt with one hand and a heart-topped wand in the other. Her peaceful expression betrays the sternness with which she commands.

The King of Beasts, perched upon a rock that slants up. The lion has persisted and finally scaled the peak. He now looks skyward, his cunning visage locked to and even grander future.

The Sea Witch, tentacles curling amid carved waves. She casually leans back, unfurling a contract in one hand. Sign, and she will bless you with her benevolence.

The Sorcerer of the Sands, appearing in a cloud of sand. He stands, thin and wiry, with his serpent scepter and a hand on his hip. His face is contemplative, mindfully considering visitors.

The Beautiful Queen, svelte and lovely as she steps forth from the smoke, A poisoned apple is suspended from her fingers. She is as tempting as she is tenacious.

The Lord of the Underworld, grinning amid broiling flames. His hands are both lifted, a ball of fire conjured on one fingertip. Playful as he is, the man is diligent in his work.

The Thorn Witch, her horns and tattered robes right at home in the briar. She is poised and elegant, fingers curled at her chest. Truly noble in every way.

You lower your head to them in deference as you pass.

The crowd funnels into a doorway, then into a dimly lit room. It’s circular in design, with several windows, the curtains drawn over them, and floating coffins ringing the outskirts. With the day banished, the only source of light were the apocalyptic green flames emitting from high sconces.

An elaborate crystal chandelier and many pearl lines hang over their heads. They shift in and out of the void, sometimes catching and shining in the glow of the flames.

In the center is a large mirror upon an elevated platform. The frame, an intricate braid. Its surface, dull and dark—as if coated in a layer of coal dust.

This, too, you remember vividly.

But not the small figure standing become the mirror.

They are fitted in a mourning gown of blacks and deep blues. Feathers adorn their chest, scattered iridescent fragments woven into their skirt. A long wispy veil obscures their face—but you swear you can hear an eerie, faint giggle come from behind the gathered fabric.

They lift their hands, beckoning you to draw nearer. You are compelled to obey, your feet drifting.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all,” they announce cheerily.

Your scalp tingles. And they sound so close too. Like a childhood lullaby, a musical box wound up.

“Welcome back to our Night Raven College. It is a pleasure to see you again. How nostalgic.”

Rose gold comes to mind, and you're unsure of why that is. It comes with a familiar feeling--of rediscovering a lost part of yourself, of rose-tinted glasses slipping on and clouding one's vision, of the wonderfulness of meeting an old friend. The color of dawn beckoning a new day.

Who is…?

They reach for their veil and carefully raise it.

Your heart leaps. Deja vu.

A demure smile. Honey-colored eyes staring straight into your soul. Wonder and curiosity radiating off of her.

You suddenly know who it is.

“We’ve missed you, dear alumni.”

[whatlovelybones-if]

ragged breaths pour out of you as you scrub your hands clean of the crimson liquid which stains your hands and your very soul. it was brutal and beautiful—the colour and how the red strands swirled around as it united before falling down the sink pipe.

you blink and clench your hands. the very hands which so effortlessly carved up the heart from inside the man laying on your rough ‘operating table’. you are terrible, yes. there was no other word to describe you. a vigilante, maybe? but did it even matter when there is a part of you which feels the thrill of the killings and torture that you so cunningly come up with no mercy?

no, actually, there are other words to describe you. heartless, being one of them. the irony of that when you quite literally removed someone’s heart recently is not lost on you.

rotten. sadistic. torturous. depraved. murderer.

it was how you revelled in the pain you caused others; how you can’t stop the excitement spreading across your body when you see the utter terror in their eyes; how you sometimes let them have a moment of freedom, just to tear it all away at once and see as hopelessness encompasses every cell of their body. the scalpel that you used in carving the man’s heart probably possessed more sympathy than you did.

you are not the same, the voice taunts you. you are not the same person who cried over the dead raven for night’s on end. you can’t even recognise yourself. you are twisted and depraved and oh-so sick in the head. you are broken in ways you don’t even know.

you try to deny it at first, try to resist with every shaky breath that you do this for the greater good. but you know, deep down, you know that this is what you are: a monster masquerading as a human. you have as much heart as the corpse on your operating table with the empty chest.

you try to find some semblance of yourself on the broken pieces of the vanity mirror scattered around you. but you can truly see your twisted visage on the abnormal reflections. it was as if a sculptor had chipped away at you to add all the cruelty of the world and none of its gentleness.

you were made of jagged edges and sharp thorns. made to admire, not to love.

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Nakime (mentioned), Kagaya Ubuyashiki (mentioned), Shinobu (mentioned), Kanae (mentioned) Enmu, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

Warnings: nsfw, murder, traumatic events from a child perspective, death, violence, gore, loss of parents, implied adoption, implied stalking, oral sex (reader receiving).

Plot: Talking with his seventh in command, Muzan reminisced about his past, about you and how you had always been his greatest weakness. While a particular Slayer is searching for you, Muzan bent his knee to you and showed you a side of him you, deep down, hoped to see. He cared about you a little more than he allowed you to know, apparently, and you once again feel lost into this crazy whirlwind of contrasting emotions.

PART 1| PART 2| PART 3| PART 4| PART 5| PART 6| PART 7

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MEMORIES.

"What do we know about her?" Muzan asked, lighting up a cigarette as he stared at the photograph of the purple-eyed slayer who had dared to put your life in danger. She was no different from the other ones they had taken down throughout the years: a prick destined to fall by his hand, a girl whose name was going to be forgotten by the world, once she had exhaled her last breath. Who was she again? A slayer.

Who were The Slayers?

The Slayers, right, a pack of mangy dogs without a life purpose who spent their time trying to get his head, young people wasting their youth to serve that man. Every single time The Moons captured one of the swordsmen, they all said the same thing: "Muzan Kibutsuji is a monster, he deserves to die".

He was not offended. He pitied them, instead. How could they be so blind to see that Ubuyashiki Kagaya, and his father before him, asked them to stain their hands in blood, to commit the same crimes he, the devil himself, the infamous Muzan Kibutsuji, had been accused of? The thing was they surely fought for opposite ideals, but when the sun set, they were the same.

Why? Because two people pointing a gun, pulling the trigger, washing the blood of their victim away from their faces, were always going to be murderers. It did not matter why they did it, or how they dealt with their conscience, they were killers.

Now, looking at that girl, he wanted nothing more than tearing her apart limb from limb, for she had had the audacity of putting your life in danger. You, the girl he was going to marry, the one who had touched some strings of his heart no one had ever found, the good omen in his life. There was only one thing he was absolutely certain about: he would have always protect you.

Even if it meant dying for you.

"Her name is Shinobu Kocho, Master. – the seventh in command cooed – Her code name is Belladonna. Apparently, she is best known for poisoning her victims" he singsonged, drawing another photograph from his folder and sliding it down Muzan's desk.

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes at the girl portrayed in it. She seemed a few years older than the other Slayer, but she had some physical traits in common with her. Were they perhaps related in some way? He had a feeling he had seen her face before. Those twinkling, kind, pink eyes felt familiar.

"She is the reason why Balladonna attacked Douma and Miss. L/N yesterday—" the Moon continued, only to be cut off by Muzan.

His plum red eyes blazed in a sinister glint, until they almost seemed to have darkened for his evident irritation "Mrs. Kibutsuji, Enmu" he deadpanned, watching the way his subordinate prostrated himself in front of him, his dark bob swinging around his heart-shaped visage.

"I beg your pardon, Master! – Enmu pleaded him, his turquoise eyes transfixed on the polished black derby shoes of the raven-haired man in front of him – I did not mean to offend you and your lovely fiancé" he apologetically cried out, not daring to flick his gaze up to face his cantankerous boss. He knew how cruel Muzan could be, he knew he would have not stopped when blood spilled, or a bone broke. They were nothing more than toys for him. Oncr they were broken, he threw them away without hesitation.

Muzan scoffed, reaching his hand out to put off the cigarette on the silver ashtray "Spit it out then. You are wasting my time, Enmu Tamio. – he stated, grasping the photo and turning it towards the terrified boy – Who is this other girl?".

The seventh in command gulped down forcefully, eyes landing on the the girl's smiling face in the photo, as he nodded his head absent-mindedly "Her name was Kanae Kocho. She was Belladonna's older sister. Douma kidnapped, tortured and killed her in hope she would have revealed her colleagues's identities. She did not say anything, except that her sister would have come for our heads sooner or later. – he explained, a tear rolling down his right cheek – I was there too. I recorded everything".

It was only then, when Enmu mentioned the fact that she had been killed by Douma, that he remembered her. Peony, she was Peony. He had specifically given the order to murder her, after they had reported the news of her being a Slayer and wandering around a certain area of the city: your neighborhood. Her shifts dangerously coincided with your homecomings from the restaurant where you worked.

He could not let you two interact. Not after he had found you again after all those years. You were his greatest weakness, his remorse. His humanity. The idea of having killed you too that night, under the pouring rain, had tormented him for years. He would have never forgotten your big doe eyes filled with tears. You had not changed. The terrorized look you had whenever you were scared was the same you had shot in his direction in the middle of the night, when you screamed out your father's name as his dead body slumped down on the muddy ground.

Your eyes had haunted him for years.

When he saw you all those years later, jogging down the sidewalk, he knew you were not just a random girl. He did not imagine it was you, though. The kid whose life he had crashed the night he officially succeded his father and swore to take the lead of the Country. He had to see you again, he had to know who you were, you had to be his to protect and keep by side forever.

When Douma had showed him the first picture of you he had taken, he immediately focused on your eyes. It was you then. It was the kid he had to kill. It was Y/N L/N.

It was Y/N Ubuyashiki, the sin staining Kagaya's name.

And it was yesterday, when you stared at him in horror, fearing for your life, that he understood that he could not keep the eye-contact with you. He could not keep up with you, he could not see you staring at him as if he was a monster, like you had said that night. Therefore, he had blindfolded you.

If only you knew how deeply he cared about you. He cursed the fate day and night for having made him fall for you, his enemy's daughter. He was going mad. You were a black diamond, enticing him with your attitude and beauty.

You, how dare you to make him fall for you with every minute you spent together?

Muzan scowled, his plum red eyes darting on the display of his phone on his desk. You had apparently texted him a few minutes ago, but he was too busy reminiscing about the past to hear the sound of the nitification.

"Leave" he flatly said, grabbing his phone and turning his back at the knelt man in front of him to make him plainly clear that his presence was no longer required.

Enmu flinched at the sound of his voice and hastily stood up, bolting for the door with his heart thrumming into his chest. A coward, that was how Muzan saw him. A talented hypnotist, indeed, but a rabbit running into his burrow as soon as danger flinged around the room.

Once he was alone, Muzan sat on his armchair and unlocked his screen to read your message. He expected you to thank him for the bank transfer, or asking him more about the plans for the night. What he did not expect was a picture of Nakime, staring blankly at the camera, and your comments below.

YOU: Hi, Muzzie! Care to explain what the fuck she's doing here? :)

YOU: Also, thanks for the gifts and the money but, honestly, I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some privacy back. If I am not mistaken, the fourth clause of the contract specifically grants a car for me to use. Where is it?

Muzan smirked. You were really as smart as he thought you were. But he loved playing with you to test your nerves.

MUZAN: Earn it, love.

You did not take a long time to reply and he found himself smiling at the display once again, eager to read what you had to say.

YOU: How? Do I have to kill for you? Whose head do you crave to use as a footrest?

He would have never ever let you be a monster. You were an angel, a pure soul. He killed in your name, but he would have never ever asked of you to take someone's life for him. You were his pride and joy. Therefore, before going back to work on his pc, he typed a simple reply.

MUZAN: That's romantic, love. But I'm fine. Just get on all four tonight, it will suffice.

♚

Cheeks beet red, nails digging onto the palms of your hands, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was no way in the world you were going to wear that thing for him. You liked some good lingerie, but that was definitely too much. You felt naked, the silky black choker around your neck was making you feel like a courtesan. The suspenders, the lace thong and the bra were doing numbers on you.

What did he have in store for you? After all, he had promised you that you would have talked about his bodyguards, about him and about The Slayers.

If he thought you were just going to moan his name all night long, he was wrong. Grabbing your phone, you called him. You were not going to wear these slutty undergarments to pamper his ego. Reaching one hand behind your back to unclasp the bra, you kept your phone pressed to yout ear with the other and patiently waited for Muzan to pick up the phone.

"I guess you've found my gift, haven't you?" his hoarse voice finally pierced your ears after the third ring, earning a sight from you.

"Yes, I have, and I'm not going to wear this shit. I don't care if it's a 'Victoria's secret' limited collection. I still have my dignity" you complied, struggling to get the with the item off of you. As long as you hated it, you perfectly knew that it was expensive and you did not want to ruin it out of irritation.

You heard Muzan humming "It's not something supposed to stay on for a long time, love. – he reasoned, as you finally discarded the bra back onto the box huffing and puffing – What are you doing, anyway?" he curiously asked, making you roll your eyes at his comment.

"Nothing inappropriate, don't worry. I'm just going to take a shower" you replied, settling the phone on the bed and selecting the loudspeaker as you proceeded in slipping your fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear to drag them down your thighs.

However, the call ended with a click but Muzan's voice sounded too close to you "I'm just in time, then" he cooed from the threshold, making an high-pitched scream leave your lips, arms reaching up to cover your exposed chest from his vicious eyes immediately. Zero privacy, as per usual.

You blushed and took a few steps back, your eyes daggers on the man stripping off of his jacket "Hands down, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen before" he promptly remarked, turning towards the door and locking it.

"You're a pervert" you spat, averting your eyes from him.

Muzan quirked his eyebrow up, loosening the knot of his tie and throwing it on the floor carelessly, his fingers then working on the buttons of his shirt "I haven't showed you all my kinks yet, love. Don't be so rude. I'm much worse than that" he jested, irking you.

You exhaled through your nostrils and stormed to the bathroom, in hope to lock the door and leave him behind, but Muzan had understood your poor strategy and, before you could reach your destination, he had his hands around your waist. You yelped, your naked back pressed against his firm abs sent shivers down your spine, but the way the way his hands cupped your breasts, replacing your shaking ones, was something else.

"Can we try to get along? – he whispered in your ear, planting a kiss below your jaw – I don't like it, when you're mad at me" he hotly said, resting his chin on the top of your shoulder.

"If you stopped being a jerk, I would stop being a brat" you retorted, trying to resist his charm.

"What do I have to do to make you like me?" Muzan asked, a smug smirk gracing his lips as he rested his hands down your hips and spun you around to face him. Now, staring deep into his eyes, it was hard saying no. It was hard denying him what he was asking of you.

You batted your eyes close for a second, your fingertips grazing the outline of his abs "Show me that you like me too" you said breathless, almost regretting it. Why did you ask him such a thing? He oughted you no devotion, or romantic commitment after all.

You did not expect him to take you seriously. You did not expect him to grasp your chin and capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss again. Yet, when his tongue slipped into your mouth and he softly helped you to lay down on the bed behind you, there was something that made you feel like he was truly trying to convince you of something, of proving his intentions and feelings.

When his lips parted from yours, his hand slipping down underneath your panties, he locked his eyes with yours "Has anyone ever gone down on you?" he asked in a whisper, making your breath hitch in your throat.

No. The answer was no, naturally. You had gone down on someone a few times, but no one had ever done it for you. Not even your ex, Sanemi.

"N-No" you murmured, turning your face to the side in embarrassment.

Muzan cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking the area above your cheekbone lovingly "May I have the honor to be your first once again?" he asked you, watching the way your eyes widened slightly and how you nodded your head at him. He had asked for your consent. Not that you never had given him it, but it was hot, it was intimate.

"You don't have to, you know?" you told him, watching how he worked on the suspenders and dragged every last piece of item you were wearing down your legs.

Muzan's hands ran up and down your thighs, parting them gently, as he laid his body flatly on the mattress. His hot breath fanned your heat and you bit your lower lip in anticipation, as he placed a soft kiss on your clitoris.

"I want to" he simply said, before he ran his tongue down your slit.

You jolted, sparks of electricity pervading your body as he started lapping up at your arousal with swirls of his expert tongue. How many times had he done it? Probably, too many to count. Yet, you were aloof from knowing that you were the only woman he was enjoying going down to, the only one he had offered his skills to without feeling any kind of pressure.

Why? Because it was you and you were different for him.

His pace was torturously slow, his mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it, flicking his tongue around it, made whimpers and soft moans fall from your lips as your hands gripped the bedsheets at your sides tightly.

Arching your back, you glanced down at him. Muzan met your gaze, his red eyes pinning you on the spot as he gave you a look of your juices running down his chin, glistening under the artificial light of the chandelier. You blushed and he grinned, grasping your legs and settling them over his shoulders.

"You taste heavenly" he purred against your pussy, before sticking his tongue deep into your clenching hole.

You squirmed, hands flying up to your face to shield yourself from his attentive eyes. You felt ashamed for fhe lewd faces you were making. Did you really miss that much? Or was it just Mr. Kibutsuji talent?

"Muzan—" you whined, tears peeking at the angle of your eyes as your partner's grip on your hips intensified. You felt the a familiar pressure coiling into your lower abdomen and the idea of releasing on Muzan's tongue made you both thrilled and bashful. What if he did not like it? What if he did not want you to cum?

But, actually, the way he stimulated every right spot of your clitoris, the way he held your body close to his face, was a clear sign that he aspired to. He groaned against your entrance, your legs squeezing his head as you ended up climaxing on his sinful tongue.

He lapped away your essence and you trembled under the overstimulation, your chest raising and falling erratically as you stared at the ceiling in haze. What had just happened? Why did he let you enjoy yourself that much? Why did he satisfy your fantasies, if you should have been the one doing it?

You lifted yourself up on your elbows, glancing up at the dark-haired man unbuckling his belt at the end of the bed. The prominent tent in his pants looked uncomfortable and you blushed, crawling towards him with the most grateful and kind expression on your face that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. You could not look that cute and beautiful at the same time.

"T-Thank you... – you whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear – Can I help you take care of..." you trailed off, darting your eyes away from the bulge in his boxers, threatening to nudge at your nose. You had not realised how close to it you were, until you had flicked your gaze up to meet his intense gaze.

Muzan chuckled, his calloused hand ruffling your hair jokingly "You don't have to thank me. – he said, his eyes darkening all of a sudden – But you can follow me into the shower. I feel like if I fucked you right now the way I had planned, you would seriously need me to carry you around for a week" he hoarsely commented, making your heart drop into your stomach.

What was wrong with him?

♚

In the meanwhile, maroon eyes studied your empty house. It seemed like you had not been home for a few days. Everything was perfectly tidy, but the majority of your clothes were gone from the drawers, from your wardrobe. Your books were no where to be seen and the fridge was empty.

The tall man sighed, entering your bedroom in search for any clue of where you had gone. Little did he know where you were, but when Kagaya had called him last night to ask for his help again, he had refused to believe it.

You, the sweet and innocent girl he had rescued that night, were now siding with a monster? How did he convince you to follow him? How could you possibly love him?

Yet, when he spotted a white shirt with a reddish stain on its sleeve, he grasped it. Inhaling the dull track of scent still impregnating the fabric, he cussed. Reality finally dawned to him at the smell of the wine ruining the snow-white shirt. It was a Chianti. He knew exactly who loved sipping glasses of Chianti.

Muzan Kibutsuji had taken you away and Yoriichi Tsugikuni was going to bring you back home.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! I am honored to finally introduce the knight in the shiny armor: Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Now, Muzan and oral sex are something else for me. Y/N is a lucky pal, although her past is … ehm, a little crazy, you know? And there’s so much more to know about it muhahah. I love angsty shit, don’t I?

Anyway, let me know what you think about the chapter and thank you so much for reading this fan fiction 😭❤️

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhasslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013

[whorety-k]

Hi everybody!! I'm not dead, I'm just super busy with college! Don't do 8 units of summer courses if you value your social life <3

Please enjoy this random fic drop that I have no explanation for other than I like the pain.

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman (40k) and gn perpetual!Reader

Song Inspiration: Never Know (Unplugged) - Bad Omens [YouTube] [Spotify] “When I go out into the world / I just don’t like what I see / You could call this paradise / but it looks just like hell to me / Lying in between the memories choking me / and I don’t know which way to go / But I’m okay to never know.”

Warnings: Angst, mentions of loss, this piece is bitter and angry and emotionally charged because Raven Lady was in their feels, you + Guilliman have a not-so-secret secret relationship but you’re officially known as Advisor to the Lord Regent, oh and you died at Calth once! yippee!

Word Count: 1.4k

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

The Fortress of Hera was always cold at night, and the chill bit into your skin. It did the advisor of the Lord Regent no favors to be wearing such light robes during Macragge’s coldest season, but the sting of the cold was the least of your concerns. Quiet footsteps carry you down the darkened halls to the only place you seemed to find any solace within the temple anymore. 

Perhaps solace was too strong a term. It was more the only place to freely vent your frustrations without a prying eye to judge you for it. Ten thousand years had seen little change to the great structure the Primarch of the Ultramarines had created during the Great Crusade, but the finely-crafted halls that you had once called home no longer held any familiarity.

The visage of the Emperor of Mankind carved into fine white marble stares down at you in the dark like a deific sentinel. How grand his chiseled image is: a mountain of a man sat upon an ornate throne of gilded gold, one hand holding a flaming sword, posed like salvation itself. The thought makes you scoff, shaking your aching head at the ridiculous notion. Such blatant disrespect would have you branded a heretic outside of the fortress, but within these silver-steel walls, you had no qualms making your opinions known. 

“Your last hope. Your last tool. Is that all we will ever be to you?” you sullenly ask the god before you. No, not a god–, you remind yourself, a fool. A damned fool of a deadbeat father who reaped what he had sewn, at the cost of an entire civilization. A man so obsessed with his secrets and the greater plan that he turned his own sons away from him. Was he even a man anymore? What humanity could possibly be left in something so callous?

Your eyebrow twitches as you fight the way your throat constricts, eyes brimming with bitter tears. The Heresy had been over ten millennia ago according to Imperial records, but the emotions surrounding it were still raw within your chest. For you, it had been one hundred years since your body had been torn apart by bombardment cannons at Calth. It had been one hundred years since you lost contact with those that you had called family. It had been one hundred years since the love of your life had his legion nearly decimated and been forced to rebuild the entirety of the Imperium of Man from scratch. 

It had been one hundred years since everything they had ever known was flipped upside down.

“What a grand civilization we’ve become,” you continue tacitly, scornful, “And with no one that fought for it left to see it. How merciful.” Your gaze wanders out towards the open balcony, fixating on the dull sky. The stars of Macragge looked the same as they did all of those years ago, and for a fleeting moment, you could almost convince yourself that nothing had changed. Nausea blooms in your gut. “They would be disgusted with the rotting corpse of an empire we call the Imperium.”

The marble god regards you with steadfast vigil. Its proud expression persists unchanged, silence uninterrupted. It frustrates you to no end.

Your face screws into a disgusted grimace, lip drawn back in an ugly snarl. “I do not miss you. I do not long for you,” you hiss, “Oh, great Emperor, I have to help your son pick up the pieces so gracelessly left behind.” Venomous words settle like lead in the air of the dim sanctuary. You clench your fists. “Why should I mourn you?”

The face of polished white remains stoic. Your eyes bore into the ancient stone, inspecting it for any reaction. It does not give.

You scoff once more, offended by its wordlessness. The gritting of your teeth exacerbates the headache thrumming in your skull. Ridiculous, you chide. So worked up in the presence of an unyielding god, heartbeat deafening in your ears as your blood pressure rises, and it gives you nothing. You sulk in the quietude under the carving’s watchful gaze.

“...I miss the Sigilite,” your pathetic voice eventually concedes in the silence, “Malcador had his issues, and we did not always get along, but at least he made attempts to guide the children you so thoughtlessly abandoned.” The welling tears begin to fall. Your frustrations paint your cheeks, glittery trails turning frigid in the chill of the fortress. “If someone had told me a century ago that I would be in his place, I would have called them a loon.” Grim laughter racks your body, and you turn your head back up to look at the stone likeness of the Emperor, “Advisor to the Lord Regent of the Imperium? Foolish. Preposterous, even.” The linen of your robes bunches as your arms encircle your midsection. It brings shallow comfort. 

“Tell me, my lord, who it is that is supposed to advise the advisor?” you inquire of the so-called deity, “Who supports me when I must make decisions?” The Emperor responds with perpetuated silence. Your head falls, voice weak, “...you have taken them all from me.” 

The connections you had made in other legions had all been lost to you early in the Heresy. Even if you could have attempted to reach out to them, having been put in stasis after being torn asunder at Calth and being completely separated from anything with the potential of tainted by chaos by Guilliman slaughtered any chances at reconnection. Memories of those you had loved still haunted your dreams, gifting you many sleepless nights. 

It had been ten millennia.

Now you stand alone in the dark, before a magnificent depiction of the root cause of all of your problems, howling your frustrations at him as if somehow, some way, he could hear you. It made you no better than Curze, and that thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You unwrap an arm from your middle to wipe away the freezing tears. “Perhaps I am the fool, thrust into a realm so far beyond me. Floundering like a fish out of water.” Soft footfalls echo through the chamber as you approach the statue and sit at its feet, leaning your miniscule body against the opulent statue. The cool marble bites at your cheek. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, and a false serenity befalls the chamber.

“I am all Roboute has left of the old Imperium. That’s a dreadful pressure to place on human shoulders, you know.” You speak as if scolding a child, a playful cadence in your voice. Your hand taps against the stony sabaton you rest upon, “But I suppose I am grateful he doesn’t have to do it alone, even if it means that I have to.” You shift to rest your back against the idol, placing your chin on bent knees that have long since gone numb from the cold. Against the visage of someone so beloved and beloathed, you feel the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks begin to melt away. You don’t catch the way your eyes begin to grow heavy, nor do you find yourself able to resist the siren call of sleep when it eventually comes.

Guilliman can no longer bring himself to be surprised when two of his sons report his advisor missing from their quarters the following morning. He dismisses the frantic marines idly and steps away from his holotable, closing the current simulation with a flash of green light. As expected, your unconscious form lies curled up at the foot of his father’s statue in one of the former worship halls of the evicted Ecclesiarchy. The primarch gives a weary sigh and kneels down, scooping your exhausted form off of the floor and carefully cradling you in the crux of his ceramite-covered arm. 

Upon standing, Roboute’s eyes meet his fathers, and he regards the marble silhouette with conflicted emotions. It troubled him greatly to find you here as often as he did, but Guilliman can seldom think on it when a line of vox chatter drags him out of his trance. Instead, he shakes his head and swiftly starts towards the command hall to return to his post.

He’ll question your odd behavior when there are less pressing matters to attend to.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite24 Entry #21: Shade

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #21: Shade

Darkness. Darkness and hunger.

It was all she had known for so long that she had lost track of how long she had been trapped within the Void. Time had no meaning and no measure. Devour or be devoured was the only immutable law of the Thirteenth. Death was a fate she could accept–embrace, even–but to live on as a fragment trapped in another’s body as a conglomeration of forgotten souls was not. So the succubus disposed of the few Voidsent foolish enough to challenge her without prejudice, devouring their lives and growing more powerful with each one. So what if she lost a bit more of herself each time? What did it matter? Was that really such a bad thing? What use was sanity here? What good in being herself? At least it was a brief, hollow relief from the hunger. But the darkness, there was no relief from that. Not until, without warning, that fateful day came. Light, blinding and brilliant, burning and insufferable after so long in the pitch, a portal tearing itself through the blackness. Something unignorable called to her from beyond, beckoned and invited her to come through, tugged at her body and soul. Or maybe it was just the ravenous hunger within her, drawn to that world shining with aether on the other side, so instinctual it moved her body without her own volition. She couldn’t be certain. There was very little she could be certain of anymore. The only thing she did know–had decided–was that the portal was for her. Other creatures were drawn to the light like moths to a flame, starving and desperate, clambering for escape from their eternal Hell. But she fought them tooth and nail, and as always in the Void, the superior demon triumphed. She clawed her way out over their bodies, through the rift and into a dizzying, overstimulating world of light and life and sustenance. Where or when she was didn’t matter. No such thoughts occurred to her now. She only had one drive, one urge: Feed. Whoever had been foolish enough to open the Voidgate stood before her, brimming with aether like a beacon in the night. She pounced on him without hesitation and she was intent on making sure there would be no fighting back, her vicious claws swiping toward his face, rending flesh and leaving his visage a bloodied mess. The mage crumpled to the floor with her atop him, straddling him and siphoning the very lifeforce from his body to sate herself. So lost was she in the hedonistic decadence of a proper meal of aether at last, she was not prepared for what came next. But the mage, he had been prepared for her. He had managed to recover from his mauling just in time to spring his trap before his fate was sealed. She was so focused in her single-minded, feral pursuit of her prey that she had failed to notice the arcane circle and sigils carved into the floor beneath her. He triggered his spell, incorporeal bonds of aether winding around her limbs and ripping her off him, holding her in place. She struggled, thrashing and baring her sharp teeth like a wild animal, but she could not break free, and he wasn’t going to wait long enough to afford her the chance. He pushed himself to his feet, the lifeblood seeping from his face dripping to the floor and pooling into the ritual circle etched there, triggering the spell. The runes glowed to life with aether, and she instantly knew what was happening, but it was too late. The Voidsent was bound to her new master, their aether and destinies irrevocably interwoven. “You…” he began, voice dark and deep, one hand pressing to his wounds and covering half his face. “What is your name?” he commanded, and she was powerless to disobey.

@shadiyah-ffxiv @of-darkness-and-dreams

[heyyallitsbeth]

Ghost of You

The sun beamed down on the two lovers resting on a giant mushroom top in Alfheim Online. They had been working on clearing a bunch of side quests with their party that day. But to one of the two, it felt off. His movements were sluggish, his body disconnected from the avatar it resided in. To most, it would seem normal, his movements still had the disciplined form of someone who had spent his life training in combat, despite him giving up the sword in the real world long ago. But to his partner, both in combat and in soul, she could tell he was struggling. 

“Kirito, are you feeling alright?” The autumn-haired girl stoked the dark hair of the noir boy who laid his head on her stomach.

“Hmm? Yeah everything’s fine Asu, why?” While his demeanor was calm, she could tell there was something eating him up inside.

“Honey, I’m your wife, and your partner too. If there’s anything troubling you, I’ll be right by your side to fight it with you.” The raven haired spriggan closed his eyes and weakly smiled. He knew that Asuna was his true other half, a partner in life and in love, but he was worried about something that might tear them apart.

“Asuna… I need to convert my account over again. I might be gone for a bit, so if you could… While I’m gone, please give Yui and Strea twice the amount of love as normal.” He thought of his daughters, and hated the thought of needing to leave them behind for any time, but he knew there was something he had to face alone.

“Of course honey, but call them every night at least okay?”

“Heh, been doing that since we escaped SAO. I can promise that won’t change one bit.” But some other things might.” He left the thought to himself, he wasn’t ready to commit to any real change, but he needed to see the truth for himself.

“Do you need me to look after Excalibur for you? You lost most of your items the last time you converted over…”

“Haha, nah that’s not an issue. Sinon's already got that covered, after all, it’s her sword, she just knighted me with it.” He laughed seeing the flustered face of his wife, even though their situation was more open and fluid than most, she still got a little jealous of the girl’s hanging off of him, especially the teal sniper who taunted the two of them the most. “And if she converts, it should default to Yui now since she’s taken my inventory any other time I convert.”

“Alright, we should get back to the others to continue the quests now, good chance for you to say bye before you log off for a while anyway.”

“Of course. Dontcha go marryin someone else without my permission first~”

“H-hey!”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how Liz stares at ya Asu. I’m sure she’ll take great~ care of you while I’m gone~” He giggled, imagining the sight of his wife and Liz locked in an embrace together.

“Even if she does, you’ll still always be my beloved partner, promise~”

“Heh. Didn’t take much convincing- you’re so cute.”

The spriggan rested on the undine, never wanting to leave her. But today, he needed to face his fears. Alone. A mission for the solo player. 

…

A year prior, an event stuck itself to Kirito’s brain like a parasyte. He could never fully escape the thought of it. He had logged into Gun Gale Online in order to investigate the DeathGun case. Due to the gacha system that determined avatars in the game, Kirito had awoken to the sight of his hair in his face. Long streaks of grey locks adorned him, framing his soft face. Staring at his reflection in the windows of nearby shops in the dark brutalist environment, he noticed things in himself he was afraid of. His figure was soft and feminine, far from the typical soldier of this world. It was not too dissimilar to his real life appearance, but the pronounced hips and narrow shoulders made him shift in place uncomfortably. He stared at his visage, noting he looked as if he was Sugu’s big sister instead of her big brother. He slowly met his own gaze. His eyes had always been a dark grey, something his adoring sister always teased him for, calling him a zombie with the dead gaze that adorned him. But that day he saw something different in them, where a blank glaze once covered his view, there were now highlights visible for the first time, and a deep purple hue that left him breathless. He grasped at his chest over his heart and was hit with a deep pain, and an even deeper longing. But he had to move forward, he had a mission.

A week ago Kazuto had been out with his sister Suguha, though they were only related tangentially as cousins. That became something Kazuto had become fixated on, as throughout their day out, multiple people had stopped them, asking if they were twin sisters. Kazuto didn’t look his age due to his years in Sword Art Online, his body permanently stunted by his inability to move for so long. But he was really wondering if he truly looked that similar to Suguha because of it. He recalled that as he was young, they were confused for twin girls all the time, but they were younger then… It made sense right? Kazuto stole an old skirt from Suguha’s closet one day as she was out practicing kendo. She hadn’t worn it in years, he figured she wouldn’t notice if it were gone… He slipped it on and stared himself in the mirror that spanned the back of his bedroom door. Despite the clear difference in their “endowment” Kazuto had seen as bright as day the connection. Even if his chest wasn’t voluptuous, even if his hips weren’t as pronounced, he saw the obvious connections between him and his sister. His face was soft and round like hers. And in the center of it all, he saw it again, his dead eyes replaced with the loving purple gaze he’d seen back in Gun Gale. He threw off the skirt in a fit of anger at himself. He stashed it beneath his bed, he didn’t wanna look at it. But… his heart longed for something regardless.

Today, as Kirito logged out of Alfheim Online, he converted his account over to Gun Gale Online once more. He needed to spend more time there… She needed to see herself again. 

…

A dark raven was prone atop a clocktower, aiming down at the streets below. Through the scope of their Hecate sniper rifle, they could nearly see the stubble on the men in the party stories below them.

BANG!

A single clean shot had decimated two of the party members.

“I’ve gotten good with this thing… heh.” The shadowy figure smiled to themselves as they lined up another shot. “Maybe now I can give her that duel I promised…”

BANG!

A full party wiped in such a short amount of shots. Too easy. The slender gargoyle on the roof brushed their long locks behind them, the deep grey shimmered with silver highlights despite the soot and ash coating it. Suddenly, they heard someone ascending the wall in front of them. They prepped their shot, but they were caught off guard by a blur of seafoam green, before their eyes met a familiar smiling face in their scope.

“Hey Sinon, come here often?” A playful taunt escaped their lips.

“Yes actually, I do believe you’re in my spot after all Kirito.” She giggled, a sight Kirito had grown to love as Sinon had opened up more and more. “I’m surprised you’re using a real weapon instead of wildly flailing your photon sword about.”

“Oh you just miss seeing me with my sword in my hands dontcha?” Sinon blushed and angrily pouted, another adorable sight. “Well, my lovely partner here in GGO taught me so much, I figured I’d honor her by using the same weapon as I practiced. I need to give ya a good duel sometime after all.~”

As he grew closer to each of his friends, the one-sided teasing evolved into a playful banter between them, learning how to push each and every one of their buttons.

“So that’s why you left ALO huh? Trying to get a headstart on training for our next B.O.B. huh?”

“I think you’ve got years ahead of me Sinonon~ One week away won’t save me. But truthfully that’s not the full reason.” Their eyes shifted away from Sinon, and towards the floor before smirking and shaking the thought away.

“I’d hope so, it’d be such a shame if my Star-Crossed Soldier was training without me~” She playfully pouted at Kirito.

Ever since the last B.O.B. ended, article after article dubbed the two winners as the Star-Crossed Soldiers, after Kirito’s embrace with Sinon in the trials, their close encounters in the cave and Sinon’s literal fiery embrace at the end to claim their tied victory. Liz had given Kirito an earful before the articles came out with how close he’d been to Sinon, but after the nickname appeared online, Kirito became convinced Liz and Asuna would actually kill him. Up until Asuna proposed the poly arrangement at least.

“Jeez, don’t let Asu hear you callin’ me that, otherwise I won’t be the only one getting pierced by her rapier.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not lookin’ to get inbetween ya- in that way at least~” The look she gave Kirito with that comment seemed to literally take health off the poor player.

“Anyways, why’re you here if not to train to win over me?”

“...” Kirito shifted his look away from her, and with that motion he accidentally revealed the accessories adorning his hair. Sinon snickered.

“Ah, I see you’re just here to play dress up huh?” Her eyes wandered and looked over the rest of the boy. He still had his trademark carbon fiber cloak, but now his outfit beneath was…

“Kirito… is that my outfit in black and silver?”

The noirette blushed a vibrant crimson, and smiled.

“I think there’s someone you need to meet Shino.” The girl was surprised by Kirito’s use of her real name ingame. He typically tried to refer them as their avatar’s name. This was deeper, this was personal to her. 

Shino grabbed the hands of the shadow before her and looked into it’s eyes.

“I think I know who you mean.” She smiled with pride as they drew closer. “What’s your name? Who is my partner in this world?”

The eyes of purple and blue had met, a synthetic gaze between them escalated into a whirlwind. In a moment, they were back in that cave again, holding eachother close, the heat of their bodies pressed against eachother.

“In this world… And all others… My name is Kiriko.”

With those words, Sinon saw Kiriko revert back to how she saw her initially. Another girl, just like her.

They spent the next week training for the upcoming B.O.B. ingame, and shopping for Kiriko in the real world. The night of the battle, Kiriko had stayed at Shino’s apartment, so they could celebrate their victory.

…

A flurry of gunshots was silenced by the cruel end of a photon sword. Despite her training with a sniper, Kiriko decided to return to the classics for most of the match. Her and Sinon made for a perfect duo as front line and supporting fire. Her favorite moment had been when Sinon and her had been cornered, with Sinon facing her while she had her back to two enemies. Sinon fired at Kiriko, and she split the bullet just like in their trial duel, with the two pieces finding their home in the skulls of their attackers. It was a game now, just for fun, and they wanted to perform.

“I suppose that is the last of them huh?”

“Suppose so.”

The two stood against the other, scratched, bruised, covered in virtual blood of both their own, and of others. And now with all cameras on them. 

“You ready to give the girls at home a show Kiriko?”

They smiled devilishly at each other.

“Always.”

In a swift movement, Kiriko removed her heavy black cloak, revealing the matching outfit with Sinon’s own. It was practically bikini armor, except for soldiers instead of for knights, despite Sinon’s insistence it wasn’t. Sinon revealed a photon sword of her own, and as the cloak hit the dusty ground behind Kiriko, both lept towards eachother with fire in their eyes. The clash of purple and green blades sent small debris around them flying, each strike was more powerful than the last. But it was less of a duel, and more of a dance. Every movement, despite the power, was elegant, with perfect footwork and seamless motion. They circled eachother, blade against blade. With every strike forward, the other responded with a dodge and their own strike. Neither had grazed the other, only their sword’s connecting the two. The chorus of slashes against slashes sent both blade’s flying, as Kiriko caught Sinon’s and Sinon caught Kiriko’s, and they continued their masquerade. They drew closer and closer together, despite the blade’s repelling eachother, their bodies had called to eachother. In a flash both lights extinguished, and the two embraced. They smiled at eachother, aware of the camera right beside their faces. They closed their eyes and their lips clashed against eachother. Love blooming on the battlefield. Sinon pressed Kiriko’s blade against her back, and ignited it, impaling the two of them together, as they tied another B.O.B.

…

The pair awoke from their brawl back in the real world. Both had imprints on their faces from where their Amusphere’s had sat on them. They giggled to eachother as they traced the marks, holding eachother’s faces. 

“I’m glad you got Asu’s approval before all that, I know that Liz’ll still tear both of us apart though” Sinon snicked, imagining the pink leprechaun’s stunned face watching their dance.

“Hehe, yeahhhhh. Just because me and Asuna are poly doesn’t mean the jealousy’ll ever just up and leave. Liz is probably upset that I managed to steal both Asuna and you for myself.” 

“Oh I think she’ll be more jealous of me, after all, I was the first one with the new girl in the group.” She laughed at the thought, knowing all of the girls’ not-so-subtle-crushes. 

“Oh yeah, speaking of, I guess tonight they all get to meet Kiriko at the party in ALO huh?”

“As long as you’re not nervous, and I’ll be there supporting you always.”

“With you by my side, I’ll always be ready. Let’s hop over and meet them.”

An evil grin reached Shino’s lips.

“Welllllll you and I both need to transfer our accounts back over, so you should set that up real quick.”

“Right, right of course. Better not keep them waiting-”

Kiriko turned away from Shino to her laptop, starting the slow transfer of their accounts. With her attention away, Shino slipped out of her top and pajama bottoms, and waited for Kiriko’s full undivided attention.

“Alright we should be good in around twenty minu- HUH!”

Kiriko’s face was lit ablaze by the sight of the scantily clad girl infront of her.

“Hehehe, whatcha waitin for? I know we got the cash prize, but it’s time for our real~ reward now.”

She unbuckled the back of her bra and let the garment slip down, exposing her modest, but perky chest with a light bounce.

“We won’t keep them waiting long- but I already told Asuna- I get first dibs tonight- which means I get first ever dibs on Kiriko~”

She pounced on Kiriko, pinning her to the bed. 

They showed up in Alfheim, an hour later than everyone expected.

…

Sinon entered the main living space of the home their party had shared. Luckily everyone was enjoying themselves already, but she still stammered out an apology for being so late. 

“Jeez, is Kirito not coming?” Liz said in a huff. “I suppose he just doesn’t wanna show after that little stunt you two pulled.”

Sinon blushed heavily, knowing that stunt was far from the worst thing they’d done. Asuna crept behind Sinon and pulled her in, kissing her on the cheek.

“Mwah~ That’s for stealing away my poor innocent Kirito~” She playfully toyed with the cat, happy with the new arrangement they’d found. But the cat’s face lit up, imagining how there was no innocence left in either of their bodies laying beside eachother in the real world. She shook the thought away.

“Hehe, just borrowing her~ she’s yours again tonight”

The party went silent

“HER?!”

As if on queue, a new cait sith appeared from the door. She was adorned with a black cloak and risque armor set. Her signature long grey hair fell down her back, looking just like Kirito in GGO. And she could barely look up at the party as she announced “H-hey everyone. My name’s Kiriko…”

Before anyone had the chance to say anything, Asuna, Yui and Strea all embraced the girl.

“Yayyyyy I get two mommies now!” Yui cheered

“Ah well that explains the armor choices…” Leafa sputtered out.

“We leave Sinon alone with Kiriko for a week and she comes back a girl… Yeah that tracks actually.” Liz was practically beaming.

“I was wondering about Kiriko’s choice of attire in GGO… But now I can’t wait to see her choices in here~” Philia dreamed of all the different event cosmetics and rare treasures Kiriko could now be adorned in.

Silica and Argo were hovering around the new cait sith in their presence. 

“So was I the only one who suspected Kii-gal was a girl?”

“Maybe! But now I get an adoptive big sister!” 

“Hey! Kiriko’s my actual big sister!”

“We can share!”

The crowd started talking inbetween themselves, talking about all the fun things they can do now that Kiriko’s a girl, and Asuna took this as an opportunity to pull her to the side.

“So this was what you were worried about earlier huh?”

“I was worried that you’d leave when you found out what I’d been going through… I’m glad I can still be yours.”

“Oh honey… I love you, husband, wife, partner, I didn’t fall in love with a boy, I fell in love with you. The hero who saved us from Aincrad, and the caring parent to our kids. This is just a new side of you I get to love, and I’m going to love every second of learning about you Kiriko. Now ummm. After the party can I head over? It’s been a bit since we um.”

“Heh- about that… If you wanna head over, you’ll have to ask Shino if she’s okay with you staying…”

“Sh-Shino? Are you diving from her apartment?”

“Hahaha, well, she did call first dibs…”

Asuna laughed and pulled Kiriko into a kiss. She was glad that Kiriko was still hers, even if she was being shared between a few others. Since for the both of them, regardless of all the others they would come to love, they were still that happy couple from back in Aincrad, soulmates from then, to forever.

[the-broken-truth]

Shattered Fragments [3] - [Papa Crewel] [Big Brother Sam] [Enma Yuuken/Male Yuu]

Summary: It's Yuuken's First Day back to class after his accident, his friends are eager to see him but are they prepared to see him once again?

[History of Magic Class]

Mozus Trein spoke in his nonchalant voice as he wrote along the board with chalk as he taught his class; the sounds of pens against paper as the students took their notes for future assignments or upcoming tests. Lucius purred as his master held him close to his chest while watching the students with uninterested golden eyes; uninterested but focused eyes that scanned the classroom to make sure there wasn't anyone sleeping, he did oh so love swatting the heads of students who weren't paying attention or sleeping in class. When he didn't see any slackers, he lowered his eyes to take a small cap nap, that was when a certain rule-breaker of Heartslabyul exhaled and ran a hand through his ginger hair before looking at his blue-haired cohort.

"I never knew class would be this boring with Yuuken and Grim around." Ace groaned as he looked over to Deuce.

"Considering that Yuuken holds all the brain cells between the 4 of us, Grim included, it's kinda understandable why you want him around. I miss him too; class is not the same without him and Grim around." Deuce said as he looked over at the empty seat beside him that Yuuken normally occupied.

"He's supposed to come back today, isn't he? I overheard Professor Crewel telling Professor Trein that Yuuken was going to be attending class...but then he started talking about Trein's Grandson..." Ace said, causing Deuce to look at him with confusion dancing in his eyes.

"Professor Trein has a Grandson? I didn't know that." Deuce said

"Yeah, Professor Crewel was telling him to forgive his grandson for being late. I wonder what he was talking about." Ace said with a raised eyebrow while scratching the side of his head with the end of his Magic Pen. Deuce opened his mouth to speak when the door opened and a familiar voice rang out.

"Forgive me for being late! I got slightly lost in the halls after being discharged and dismissed."

Yuuken! He had returned!

Ace and Deuce turned their heads to see their friend's face for the first time in a week but their eyes widened upon falling upon Yuuken's Visage, something was very wrong; starting with his clothes.

Yuuken wasn't wearing the school uniform he arrived at Night Raven College with, nor was he even wearing a Night Raven Uniform. The Prefect of Ramshackle was dressed in a custom-made designer suit that mirrored that of Divus Crewel; from the black and white vest, the black dress shirt underneath, and the red tie around his neck and tucked away under his collar. He wore black dress pants with a black belt and black shoes; he was even wearing red gloves! All he was missing was the massive fur coat and pointer stick with a collar attached to the end.

Yuuken started walking down the stairs to reach Trein's Desk when Ace and Deuce made another shocking discovery: Yuuken's once coal hair was now tainted with white - The Traditional Crewel Family Trademark, the only difference to Divus' was that the color positions were reversed. Yuuken's top was black while his sides and back were dyed white. He looked like a spawn of Crewel!

"I hope you have a decent reason for being late to my class on your first day back since your accident, Yuuken." Professor Trein said in a stern voice while looking at Yuuken with a stoic face; however...why did he call Yuuken so casually? Yuuken looked like a scolded puppy before reaching to the satchel around his shoulder and pulling out a piece of paper, handing it to the professor.

"Please, forgive me, Grandfather; I didn't mean to be late but Father wanted to make sure I remembered critical things for the upcoming tests." Yuuken said, causing everyone's jaws to drop at what Yuuken just said. Trein looked at the paper before exhaling and handing it back to Yuuken before stroking Lucius' fur.

"I shall forgive you this time since you are recovering from serious injury and your Father asked me to be lenient with you upon returning, however, do not make a habit of this, Grandson. Am I clear?" Trein asked.

"Your words are clear s crystal, Grandfather. Once again, I am sorry." Yuuken said as he bowed his head in respect to Trein, causing the older man to exhale and pet the top of Yuuken's Head.

"You are forgiven, Grandson; now, take your seat and start taking notes. They are critical for the upcoming exams." Trein said. The Prefect of Ramshackle nodded before petting Lucius between his ears, causing the cat to purr before Yuuken withdrew his hand and walked up the stairs to his usual seat; he didn't even say hello to Ace and Deuce, just pulled out his notebook and started copying the notes on the board and new notes that Trein started writing again. The shock of the class slowly wore off and everyone started taking notes once again, except for Deuce and Ace, who just stared at the Prefect for the remainder of the class.

When the bell rang, Yuuken gathered his notebook and placed it in his satchel before walking away before being stopped by someone calling his name; he turned to see Ace and Deuce standing behind him.

"Yes? Is there something I can help you with?" Yuuken asked.

"Yuuken, what the heck is going on with you?!" Ace asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Yuuken asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What Ace means to say is that you are acting rather strange. You are dressed like Professor Crewel, you called Professor Trein Grandfather, and...where is Grim?" Deuce asked.

"Grim is currently with my father, he needed some help with getting things in order for Ramshackle to have repairs done to it and Grim wanted to go with him. I'm not used to not having him with me but I can understand he needs a break sometimes too." Yuuken smiled.

"Your Father? Who is your father?" Ace asked.

"What are you talking about, Ace? You know that my Father is Divus Crewel. You've been one of my closest friends along with Deuce since I arrived here and you don't even remember my father's name?" Yuuken said but just caused Ace and Deuce to shout in unison.

"WHAT?!"

"Please, do not yell. You will cause me to get a headache." Yuuken said.

[END]

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 4 - Mouthing Off

Part 3 | Part 5

Deva bars his teeth as the sunlight filters into the room, forcing him out of a restful slumber. It takes all of his effort to move, arms floundering across the surface to find some leverage to pull himself up. His lips form a small pout as his fingers come into contact with a firm yet fluffy plane and he works to force one eye open. Squinting against the bright light, he can make out the strong chest of a man, sprinkled with dark hairs and adorned by silver chokers. He immediately shuts his eye when the memories flood back into his brain.

Oh.

Deva takes a deep breath, not quite wanting to leave the cocoon of warmth that was extruding from Varadha’s body. A part of him wonders if he should pull away, leave before he wakes up and handle the business of preparing for the upcoming conflict. He can’t bring himself to care though, not when he wasn’t sure when he’d be invited back into the arms of his current company. So he chooses to huddle closer into Varadha’s body, fingers grazing across the planes of his chest and twirling the soft, dark hairs peppered across the warm skin.

“Awake already?” Varadha’s throaty hum breezes by his ears. Before Deva can react, Varadha’s arms wrap around him, pulling him in much closer than before. Deva’s face is drawn up against the hollow of Varadha’s neck, as his chin settles on top of Deva’s head. He catches a hint of the clean, smoky smell that radiates off of Varadha and relaxes against him, a calm settling through his mind as he lets the early morning ambiance envelop him once more.

“Meekenti babu, doralu. Yepudiki appudu podukuntaru, lestharu. Maa laanti mamulu manishulaki atlanti soukaryalu leve.” Deva huffs breezily, a smirk tugging at his lips. Varadha chuckles from above him, pulling back slightly, enough to catch his gaze. Deva finds his heart fluttering at the sight of Varadha in the morning with his hair ruffled beyond repair, tilakam having lost its shape, eyeliner smudged across dozy eyes, and septum piercing (dulled by the years) providing a stark contrast against the bright sparkle of his sleepy smile.

“Mouthing off so early in the morning? You’re lucky I’m as kind as I am. The other Doralu wouldn’t let you run your mouth so easily.” Varadha warns, trapping Deva’s chin between his fingers as he leans in closer.

“Oh? Then why should you let me off the hook?” Deva’s gaze flickers hungrily towards Varadha’s lips. “Don’t you think I deserve to be put in my place?”

Varadha stills for a moment, blinking in shock as the words register in his brain. Slowly, a predatory gleam forms in his eyes and his smile sharpens instantly. Not a moment later, Deva feels Varadha’s powerful thighs wrap around his waist before he flips them over in one fluid motion, hands wrapping around Deva’s wrist as he pulls them above his head. Deva’s body arches up toward Varadha, a curse slipping from between his teeth when he realizes just how close their lips are to brushing against each other in this position. Arousal stirs at his core, every part of him emboldened by the raw fervor evident in Varadha’s actions.

“You’re right. Running your mouth like that anywhere else can get you into a whole lot of trouble. It’s my job as your Dora to teach you how to behave.” Deva holds his breath in anticipation as Varadha grinds into him, deliberately, eyebrow cocking and chin tilting up in a show of power.

“If it’s my mouth that you want to control, there’s a faster way to go about doing so.” Deva bites his swollen lip, squirming under Varadha’s hold, and gazing up at him through hooded eyes. Varadha huffs in amusement at the comment, a flash of curiosity passing over his features before rearranging to the ravenous visage from earlier. He plunges down in a swift motion, drawing Deva into a deep kiss that steals the breath from his body.

And he doesn’t stop there, choosing to establish his dominance by taking what he wants from Deva, refusing to give him the chance to take back. Every time Deva tries to nip at his lips, he pulls away, moving down to explore the span of his body through taste alone. Every time Deva tries to lift his hips, looking for friction, he tightens his grip around his hips, halting any movement as he blows delicately across the sensitive surface of Deva’s skin. Soon Deva is groaning in frustration, begging for more and receiving none of the relief he craves.

“Please, please Varadha. I can’t do this, I’m sorry. Just please give me more.” Deva gasps into the crook of Varadha’s neck, voice hoarse from the onslaught of teasing. Varadha’s smile softens as he presses a gentle kiss onto the side of his temple.

“Anything for you, bangaram.” He kisses his way down Deva’s face. Lips brushing against his brows, eyelids, the highest points of his cheekbones, and finally settling on his swollen lips, softened from the relentless teasing. He releases Deva’s wrists from his grip, fingers making their way to thumb at the clean shaven beard, and settling himself so that their hips align. The unrestricted force of it is enough to draw a collective moan from their lips and they find themselves moving rapidly, working to undress each other as soon as possible, chasing the much needed release.

A sudden pounding at the door interrupts them and Varadha freezes immediately at the sound of his brother calling for him. Deva’s grip on him tightens instantly and he glowers in the direction of the door.

“What?” Varadha snaps, grimacing as he burrows his face into Deva’s chest, holding back an agitated sound that was looking to claw its way out of him.

“Anna, get ready and come down will you. Baba spent all of yesterday brainstorming a plan for our next steps, and he needs you down to okay it.”

“It’s nine in the morning Baachi, can’t this wait?” Varadha grits out.

“Nope. Not when the next steps consist of you meeting with military personnel so we can gather strength in numbers as soon as possible.” Then comes a thoughtful pause. “Though, with the way your Salaar has been fighting, we might not even need backup. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him all morning.”

Varadha tightens his grip around Deva, feeling a headache coming on. “Go Baachi. I’ll be down in ten minutes and I’ll bring Deva along too.” Finally, they hear footsteps retreat and Varadha separates himself reluctantly from Deva’s hold. “How about we get back to this later? Because I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Deva’s deep laugh fills every corner of the room, lightening the mood in seconds. He slips out of bed, pulling on his shirt as a flirtatious smile makes its way onto his face.

“Maybe not anytime soon. With the way I’m wound up, I think I could single handedly take on all the armies without breaking a sweat.”

“Pichoda. Padha Mundhu.” Varadha pushes him towards the door. “And maybe you’re capable of pulling those feats, but the most anyone is going to get out of me today is the attitude of a grumpy old man.”

~*~

“Your plan is to gather members from Khansar’s army?” Varadha can’t control his incredulous reaction as he stares at Baba in disbelief, wondering if his age was finally catching up to him.

“Yes.” Baba confirms, voice infuriatingly level at 9:30 in the morning.

“The army that is loyal to my father?” Varadha’s face falls into his hands and he rubs his temples when the headache worsens. There’s a clink of a glass of tea being placed in front of him and he is just able to catch a glimpse of Chintu’s form before he disappears around the corner.

“The army that fears your father. You know as well as I do that there’s a difference.” Baba nods toward the glass of tea and Varadha takes a sip. The pounding in his head begins to subside.

“If it makes a difference at all, he’s not pulling this idea out of his ass.” Bilal straightens in his chair. “Mahit suggested it to him a few days ago. Apparently he and his colleagues aren’t fans of how your father runs things. It was motive enough for them to seek you out to strike a deal. Well that and Devaratha since credit where credit’s due. It took Baba all of yesterday to organize the logistics though.”

“So what, Khansar’s army is willing to turn against their Karta over a small dispute?”

“Not the entire army. Just a small number of them.” Baba’s eyes slip meaningfully behind Varadha, settling on the hulking form of Deva. “With Devaratha on our side, it’ll be just enough to defend ourselves against any further attacks.”

“Baba, I don’t-”

“Betta,” Baba’s tone sours noticeably. “I understand that you’re hesitant, but with the resources we have available, this is the most we can do to ensure our protection. You don’t have as much money as the other leaders, nor do you have the network for us to even consider bringing in external troops. What you do have, is a loyal friend who is putting his faith in you and the vision that you have for this nation. A friend who is willing to risk his own position and safety to help you gain access to the throne when the odds are stacked against you.

“So, what you can do now is get ready and make your way over to his place to further discuss his proposal. If you end up disagreeing with my judgment, then we’ll figure out another solution. But for now, as someone who is like your father, I’m asking you to go talk to Mahit and hear him out.”

“Fine,” Varadha stands up, turning to leave the room.

“Oh, Bilal.” Baba utters as he settles back into his chair, picking up his newspaper and burying his nose in it. Bilal’s eyes flicker to him in confusion before realization strikes.

“Dora,” Bilal coughs, catching his attention.

“Hmm?”

“Make sure to cover your…” Bilal gestures vaguely to his neck area. “Might not be in your best interest to visit a potential partner covered in, well.”

Varadha stumbles, turning back to face the group, suddenly aware of just how close to Deva he was standing. His palm flashes up to touch his neck and he takes a step away, preparing to defend himself just as Baachi pushes past him.

“Don’t you think you’re overthinking Bilal,” Baachi smirks, tossing an orange in his hand as he swaggers into the room. “After all, the potential partner is my brother’s ex. I’m sure he’s seen him in more compromising positions than this.”

“Baachi!” Baba warns, not looking up from his paper. “Regardless Varadha, it’s important to maintain a sense of decorum in professional settings.”

“I wasn’t going to-“ Varadha flushes when the three pairs of eyes flash up to him. “Whatever. Come on Deva, we have a meeting to prepare for.”

~*~

Quick note! Not the way when I’m imaging all these scenes, they’re happening in Telugu and it’s so hard to take that playfulness and translate it into English because it just doesn’t work right. So that’s been a fun little experiment in this writing project.

Leaving the translation of that bigger Telugu phrase down here though for anyone who needs it! I promise it sounds more sarcastic in my head than the translation makes it out to be.

“Meekenti babu, doralu. Yepudiki appudu podukuntaru, lestharu. Maa laanti mamulu manishulaki atlanti soukaryalu leve.” [“What’s it to you, you’re a dora after all. You can sleep whenever you want, wake up whenever you want. Us normal people don’t have access to such luxury.” ]

[ohmenai]

Temple of Testicular Tenderness

In the abating heat of a Cambodian afternoon, my quest for human sculpture led me to Than, a muscular local with the insatiable orbs of desire. It was my last afternoon in this place forsaken by the gods, but Than turned into the deity of the moment, willing to swap a photo shoot for some dollars and the whisky in my backpack. His bold gaze and godly bod promised a story that my OhMenFlex was eager to spill.

He stood stark against the temple ruin, the midday sun glorifying the sheen on his Herculean frame. My camera was primed, not merely to capture him, but to devour every carnal detail.

His short, tousled hair was the only disarray allowed, reminiscent of the careless afterglow of spent passion. His beard, an imperfect frame with scarce whispers of a moustache, teased at the boyish yet rugged visage. Standing tall like a deity in relief against the forgotten stones, his skin shone-a temptation forged in sheen and heat, smirking sweetly with both the innocence of youth and the knowing smirk of a man well-versed in corporeal delights.

Than's balls hung heavy, a pair of shadows licked by the sun that slapped against his tribal muscles with every teasing move. They were like exotic fruits, glorious in their power to stir up the most primal lust, firm to the touch yet ready to drench with desire anyone brave enough to get close. They were glistened with sweat and promises, tempting me to imagine the thud of that sack against a ravenous ass.

Then his cock arrested the senses - a thick, languid beast, it seemed to claim the ground itself, with its ebony hue streaked with the angry veins of an elder tree's roots. The foreskin, was retracted in perfect absence, unveiling the monstrous head, splattered with a cosmic palette of white and black streaks, as if hell itself inked its signature on him, was a promise of sins yet to be indulged. His pubis, stretched taut by his humoungous thing, was a smooth landscape, leading the eyes on a lustful pilgrimage, creating a look so utterly slutty it was impossible to look away.

It wasn't just his torso glistening; his entire form radiated a carnal aura, the product of sweat and testosterone. I clicked away, each frame immortalizing the luscious contradiction on his young-adult face - he wasn't inked, but each pore, each droplet of perspiration felt like the calligraphy of desire, stories waiting to be read by fingertips and tongues. In this temple of wanton worship, Than was both deity and offering, and my OhMenFlex - a devoted disciple.

Available now at Patreon and Fanvue!

[ultimavela]

No peace for the heathen — Isla Grande and its locations

Your LAND crumbles under the weight of steel and blood SOIL becomes dry, a DARK SCAB. You kill your way on the wake of an end, and day by day you see one more thing that BREAKS As mythic-land become war-land and war-land become fallen-land. With every day that passes Conquistadors walk deeper into your land. How long will it take for them to take total control? The GM rolls a d20 every sunset. For every d20=1 Conquistadors get 1 HEX DEEPER: 1 HEX of Mythic-Lands becomes War-lands 1 HEX of War-Lands becomes Fallen-Lands.

Fallen lands

Region where inquisitors are kings and conquistadors are forced to live in peace.

Magic and the soul of the land has been erased by the unmeasurable gore shed on the soil. Here your people are slaves of the man-god-king and the brutality of colonists. The heart of this land is the city of Prime. On its norther tip, Port Salvation stands as the sea gate for the ravenous followers of the see-it-all man-god-king.

War lands

Lands under an eternal conflict. Fire, blood, and screams are a common visage on these wastelands. The flags of conquistadors adorn the cites where blood is eternally shed and gallows swing under the weight of your people. The cold mist of these wastes is tinged with blood. The sun that glows through it is a red orb of doom.

Skirmish and large-scale battles are another accident of this landscape. Commons as rivers, forests, and mountains, they sweep Isla Grande under the multiple colourful banners of the Conquistadors' armies.

On a pilgrimage of death, the faces of conquistadors and inquisitors are lost under the shadows of their flags. As one, their march is the crawling of a thick oily creature of metal teeth and shiny spines.

Here there are no dreams, only nightmares.

Only few of your peoples’ towns survive on these lands, hidden under the shadows of rocks and the charcoal of burnt black trees.

But there is one exception, one city of your people that rise pretentious on war-land, an offspring of the violence brought by conquistadors, a city of unknowing servants, San-cor.

Mythic lands

Afraid, powerless under brutality, to this region the land spirits and myths of Isla Grande have withdrawn. Here, your people still hold their grasp to the memory of a time of peace. But the smoke and sooth of battle is not far beyond the horizon, it is a looming menace, a wall that moon by moon makes the magic of the land crumble a little more.

In this region, Conquistadors fall to madness, as their hands become perpetually stained with blood. Close to their ears, the spirits of those they have killed speak of their crimes. On fear of loosing themselves, they become an extreme version of what they are, or they surrender to a stupor of primal instincts.

Inquisitors can smell the power of this region, it arouses them, it makes them envious and merciless.

CITIES

Prime — Fallen Lands

This is the maze city of Inquisitors at the north of your land. Under an eternal mist of soot. Here no king has power as the city belongs to the all-powerful man-king-god. In its street of hundred cathedrals, the chants of penitence are ever present, like the breath of a sleeping beast.

Steel, stone and gold.

Prime is the harbour where the wheeled holy towns are constructed and sent to spread the word of man-king-god.

Port salvation — Fallen Lands: Perpetually growing, Port Salvation expands beyond the norther shore line, as a new land, of wooden floors suspended over the sea. Entire neighbourhoods crumble by their own weight, to lose themselves on the deep salty sands. From these wreckages, new buildings sprout by the hand of newcomers, oblivious of the death below.

Port Salvation’s stench is of death dried meats and salt.

Houses on Port Salvation dress in the colours of all the kingdoms fighting for control of your land. Invaders of the north say to themselves that Port Salvation is a neutral ground, a place of peace for their light to shine upon your lands. In a mockery of peace, they lay on their tables the maps of your land, and they draw imaginary lines, as if their conquest was a game.

San cor — War Lands

Vast city of your people, that rise pretentious on war-land, above multiple naturally connected plateaus. It is said that a great ruler of Isla Grande once lived here and buried their heart on the tallest plateau at the core of the city.

San cor stands as a reflection of the jealousy and desire of those that have come to understand power and violence, those that call themselves children of the future.

San cor is considered a free, neutral city by conquistadors and inquisitors, but in reality is just an extension of their power on the island. It is a transit harbour for holy wheeled towns.

The people of San cor have been bath on sweet words of pride by the kings of the north. They feel with the right to govern over the rest of the island.

Attached to San cor a walled city of inquisitors, called Cavum Sanctum, is where the real rulers of San cor live and oversee everything that happens on San cor.

Waste slot — War Lands

As a wound on the earth, the Waste Slot opened with a large earthquake a few decades ago. It extends below San cor, and beyond into war land.

This deep earth wound has become a broken town of ledges, bridges, and hanging houses. This is the home of sell-swords and tomb robbers on the service of the highest bidder. Most of the people here are orphans of the War lands, that have been pushed out of San cor for being considered unfit for a life of “learning, diplomacy and peace”, as the words of those of San cor like to repeat, without knowing the kind of slaves they have become.

The people of the Waste Slot have come to learn from the people who say these words, that to survive in the world of conquistadors you have to become useful to them.

Canelo’s hill (Winter’s Bark hill) — Mythic Lands

City of all the spirits. Hidden by a wall of canelos, a few miles from the frontier between the Mythic lands and the War Lands, it has become a port of observation of the advance of the war on the island. Here once stood the tree of life, that connected the earth of mortals, the underworld through its roots, and the high heavens where the ancestors and primordial spirits lived.

It is said that the tree was moved from the heaves, grabbed by its branches, to be planted on the sea, and that with it four healers that had fallen asleep on the tree's branches were taken away with it. The tree is believed to now stand in Isla Chica, where the four healers now oversee the travel of the spirit of the living to the heavens. The hole left by the tree on the mountain is now the centre of Canelo’s hill. Many mud buildings have been built in it, following a spiral to its depths, all of them for common use.

TOWNS

Sledging villages — Mythic Lands

Towns of your people, that follow the weather cycles of the land. They stay for the most welcoming part of the cycle at the west of Isla Grande, at the coast of the outer sea.

When the weather starts to get unbearably stormy and cold, they move toward the interior of the land, or to places enclosed by walls of trees. Entire towns, carried by their dwellers, over wooden beams used as sleds, move through the land in this way.

Towns of your people — Mythic Lands

Not all your people live in sledging villages, some of them have settled in small towns. These are spread mostly through the Mythic Lands, and a few of them still survive on the War Lands. But none in the Fallen lands. They are as diverse as your people.

Wheeled holy towns — War Lands + Fallen Lands

Inspired by the local sledging villages, conquistadors have constructed wheeled holy towns. These holly towns move in an eternal pilgrimage, to spread the power and control of the all mighty man-king that is their god.

Each one is baptized with a different name, in the arcane language of Inquisitors, you have heard them referred to as “Psalms”.

As they move without following the weather cycles, many of these cities have been obliterated by extreme changes of the weather. These death-wheeled-holy-towns mark the landscape as corpses of steel, wood, and stubbornness. In them, the spirits of the colonists manifests their violence and penance, they become what they believe, they serve in death the dreams of their man-king-god.

Conquistador’s towns — War Lands + Fallen Lands

One cathedral at the core of it. A square ready to shame and kill their prisoners. Some houses, and a place where they exchange food, bodies, and weapons for treasure. The stench of rotten meat and the heavy smoke of bonfires is perceptible from afar. For every conquistador town is the same.

Conquistador’s garrison — War Lands + Fallen Lands

These are the strongholds of conquistadors. They are tall walls, chains, spikes, and gallows. They are the places where they hide their treasures. Each one of them works like a small city where conquistadors are royalty. Here their word and desire are above anyone else’s, even above other settlers, servants of the same king. Here, more than in any other place, their whims are law.

OTHER POINTS OF INTEREST

Underbelly — Spreading throughout Isla Grande

Vast underground network of caves. A place of dark omens, only inhabited by strange creatures and the members of La mayoría, an organization of witches worshippers of the spirit of flesh and blood.

The Underbelly is the void left by Trentren Vilu when she left her place of sleep.

The dark secrets that La mayoría hides in the Underbelly make the people of Isla Grande afraid of caves and dark ravines, for fear of them being entrances to this underground world.

Holy idols — War Lands + Fallen Lands

Monoliths and images carved in stone, or built on steel, depicting the all powerful see it all man-king-god. They are built on site by slaves, or carried by them through the war lands. When conquistadors have burnt to the ground anything else around a monolith, taking full control of the region, a cathedral will be erected around it, and then a town around the cathedral will be built. Conquistadors when close to these holy idols do violence with righteousness (+1).

Skull field — War Lands

Wasteland of dry soil and skulls. The skulls crawl slowly, pushed by and unknown force. This slow pilgrimage toward the east is said to be the movement of the damned souls of your people toward Isla Chica. For each invader that is killed, one of the skulls breaks to dust.

Green waters — Mythic Lands

Under a blessing or a curse, the stagnant water of Green Waters has become breathable. They are the lair of the outcast of your people, that for shame or guilt have secluded themselves to an eternal life underwater. No spirit can be prayed to in Green Waters, as this is the domain of the Giant Black Sea Urchin, eater of pain and memories, Lonco of the eternal oblivion.

Black rock — Mythic Lands

A large collection of pillars of black rocks at the coast. The pillars are carved as marine creatures. Old stairs and bridges from the same rock connect the pillars. At the furthest point from the coast, six of these rocks converge at their points, creating something like a ceiling. Under them, a floor of black stone gives space to an old place to pray to the spirits of the sea.

The great horn — Mythic Lands

A giant horn, from an unknown mythical creature. It looks to the east, and it is said that it was used to call the people from the far away mountains, beyond the inner sea. It is affixed to a stone tower, carved with the images of the great serpents, Trentren and Caicai Vilu. The tower goes deep into the ground and whoever dares to descend beyond the sun's reach, it is said to get lost forever.

Salted valley — Mythic Lands

Dry valley of salt that gets overflown by underground rivers once a year. Mosquito floating trees, move following the winds, with their roots as tentacles, caressing the land. They have learned to eat from animals, by draining with their roots their blood. Their sap is sweet and salty, and gives potency to one’s thoughts. Animals in the valley have evolved to protect themselves from these trees, and they have learned to dig and become beings of the underground. As their places of sleep are dangerously close to the underbelly, they have mutated with the magics from below.

Inner sea — East

Region of trade with the mainland, under the control of merchants of the kingdoms of conquistadors. Few pirates dare to sail on these waters, and those that do it, are mercenaries recruited by conquistadors or inquisitors.

Outer sea — West

Capricious sea that still maintains its freedom. Sea beast and pirates are kings of these waters. The northern vessels that sail these waters do so under the madness of hunting a legendary creature or finding a mythical treasure. They are here because they desire to dominate something unconquerable.

Cave of La Mayoría — unknown

The halls where the covenant of witches of Isla Grande meet. Only members of La mayoría know how to locate it.

Caleuche — unknown

Ghost ship that lures on the waters that embrace Isla Grande. Some say that it is a vessel of artists and poets that takes the lost souls of the sea to protect them under the bliss of an eternal celebration. Others, that the Caleuche is the vessel where the lost soul of the ivunches end their lives, and that anyone captured by the vessel is sold by these aberrations created by witches for an entrance to the tree of life.

Pirates hideouts — unknown

All over the coast there are hidden places where pirates have built safe-heaven to rest from their journeys. Most pirates are people of your land, or from the mainland, who have been stolen from their lives and homes by conquistadors.

[enigmaxcx]

Gothic Chronicles: Midnight's Veiled Secrets

This is a collection of poems that explore themes of loss, love, and the supernatural. Each piece offers a unique perspective on the complex emotions that accompany these experiences. As you read through this anthology, you may find yourself connecting with the universal truths that resonate within these lines.

1st poem: **Crimson Manuscripts**

In ancient halls where silence reigns,

Dust-laden tomes breathe secrets, unrestrained.

I walk the edge of lore, long since forgotten,

My heart inscribed with desires begotten.

With quill in hand, my constant guide,

Into the well of night, I confide.

A scribe of echoes from the void,

Crafting words, in melancholy alloyed.

"Unveil your stories, O manuscripts of red,

Your vellum skin to my soul is wed.

A nomad I, charting celestial designs,

In the margins of sonnets, my spirit aligns."

Shadows dance in the candle's fickle glow,

Over leather-bound legacies of long ago.

My pen bleeds ink, as if it were life,

Carving my essence amidst existential strife.

Epochs lost, their essence I distill,

In a whirlwind of memories that time can't kill.

An alchemist of words, in the arcane I delve,

Turning longing into verses, transiently shelved.

"Speak, O crimson tomes, your veins wide spread,

Upon your pages, my yearnings are said.

A wanderer am I, through constellations I roam,

In the forgotten verses, I find my home."

Gargoyles stand guard, stoic and grim,

At the gates of forever, their visages dim.

Their stone-cast gaze, the moon's sorrow reflects,

As I seek comfort in ancient dialects.

The piano's lament, the violin's cry,

And the cello's deep thrum under centuries lie.

On the brink of the void, I dance alone,

My steps resounding in a timeless tone.

"Reveal your depths, O manuscripts of hue,

My longing etched on your surface true.

A traveler of the stars, in your words I'm dressed,

In the forgotten poetry, my journey's expressed."

As the last note into silence wanes,

Within these lines, my spirit remains.

A ghostly minstrel serenading the night,

On eternity's parchment, my soul takes flight.

2nd poem: **Eternal Shadows**

In this manor, I wander, through silence and gloom,

Footsteps echo softly in each abandoned room.

Moonlight bathes me gently, as I softly tread,

Among the living's memories, I whisper with the dead.

In the moon's soft glow, my secrets unfold,

A phantom in the night, a story left untold.

Eternal shadows, where I roam free,

In this house of spirits, it's just the ghosts and me.

Through halls of mystery, where silent echoes play,

We're the souls of forever, in the night we stay.

Dust dances in the beam, time seems to freeze,

In this place of stillness, where moments cease.

Portraits watch silently, as I pass them by,

In the manor's heart, where old secrets lie.

Shadows cling to my steps, as I tiptoe through time,

In this spectral dance, where memories chime.

In this realm of silence, where I drift unseen,

Amongst the echoes, a solitary queen.

In the mansion of whispers, where secrets sway,

We're the timeless wanderers, in the shadows we play.

Feel the past's chill, as it draws near?

In the wind's whisper, it's our voices you hear.

Shadows stretch eternal, in this spectral ballet,

With the phantoms, my companions, in the night we sway.

Through corridors of enigma, where muted stories say,

We're the everlasting echoes, in the twilight's gray.

In the moon’s waning light, I catch a fleeting glimpse—a face unfamiliar, yet tethered to my soul.

The manor murmurs secrets, and I am but an echo, lost in its labyrinth of forgotten moments.

3rd poem: **The Raven's Whisper**

Beneath the silver veil of moonlight's kiss,

Where shadows merge and secrets intertwine,

I wander through the garden of forgotten dreams,

Seeking solace in the petals of night-blooming flowers.

The moon, a silent witness to my yearning,

Whispers ancient verses to the restless wind.

Its luminescent fingers trace delicate patterns,

Weaving tales of love and loss across the sky.

In this nocturnal sanctuary, memories bloom,

Each petal a fragment of a fractured heart.

I pluck them one by one, like fragile confessions,

And scatter them upon the dew-kissed grass.

The nightingale, perched upon a moonbeam,

Sings a requiem for love's ephemeral dance.

Its melody weaves through the jasmine vines,

Echoing the ache of longing in every note.

I trace the constellations with trembling fingers,

Mapping out our celestial rendezvous.

Did you once stand here, beneath this same moon,

Whispering promises that time has now erased?

The night wears on, and I become a ghost,

Drunk on moonlight and the fragrance of roses.

Perhaps, in this enchanted hour, you'll return,

And we'll dance once more in moonlit reverie.

4th poem: **Whispers from the Veil**

Beneath the moon's soft veil, we gather,

In the dim-lit chamber, secrets tethered.

A séance of souls, both lost and found,

Where spectral echoes dance, unbound.

The crystal ball, a portal spun,

Holds reflections of lives undone.

Its facets catch the flicker of stars,

As we seek communion beyond the bars.

The medium's breath, a whispered plea,

Invites the unseen to speak with glee.

Their voices rise from shadowed past,

A chorus of memories that forever last.

"Tell us," we implore, "of love's sweet pain,

Of promises broken, of longing's refrain."

And the room trembles with their reply,

A symphony of whispers, reaching sky-high.

The air thickens, charged with their essence,

As they recount tales of love's evanescence.

Their fingers brush ours, a spectral touch,

And we glimpse eternity in moments such.

The séance chamber hums with cosmic threads,

Binding us to realms where time unweds.

In this dance of spirits, we find solace anew,

As moonlight weaves stories, both old and true.

5th poem: **Portrait Of Despair**

Whispers haunt the hallowed space,

A gallery where time's embrace

Has left a mark on every face,

Each portrait tells of sorrow's trace.

A viscountess, her gaze so stern,

Her lover's touch she did spurn.

Now in her eyes, the cold fires burn,

For his return, she'll always yearn.

A captain, lost to ocean's wrath,

His ship did stray from charted path.

In stormy seas, he met his fate,

His portrait speaks of storms innate.

A child, with eyes so wide and clear,

His innocence was held so dear.

Yet fate was cruel, the night unkind,

His story leaves tears behind.

A maiden fair, with golden hair,

Once danced with grace, a pair so rare.

But love was lost, the dance did end,

Her silent song, it does transcend.

A poet's quill, now still and broke,

His verses lost, like vanished smoke.

The inkwell dry, the parchment torn,

For his muse, forever mourn.

A duelist with rapier drawn,

Stands proud and fierce, yet all forlorn.

His honor kept, his life forsworn,

In morning's light, he lies forlorn.

A widow's veil, her somber shroud,

Her whispered grief, it speaks aloud.

Her heart entombed, her love enshrined,

In painted form, her woes confined.

A jester's laugh, forever mute,

His mirthful mask, a grim dispute.

Behind the paint, the tears dilute,

His joy's facade, now destitute.

Each frame, a window to the past,

Holds echoes of a spell once cast.

The gallery, a somber host,

To each despairing, silent ghost.

So tread with care through memory's lane,

Where painted eyes live on in pain.

For every tale the portraits share,

Reflects a soul once trapped in despair.

The gallery grows, the walls extend,

New portraits join, old stories blend.

In this domain where spirits send

Their silent pleas, their hearts to mend.

Here, time stands still, the world outside

Fades to a whisper, hushed and wide.

Each canvas breathes, each shade confide,

The depths of pain they cannot hide.

So linger long, and gaze upon

The faces here, not truly gone.

Their silent mouths may yet respond,

In this gallery, they live beyond.

6th poem: **Cryptic Alchemy**

Shadowed chambers, whispers weave,

A blend of dark synth and mysterious chants,

Forbidden knowledge etched in cryptic runes,

Where secrets stir and ancient echoes dance.

No sun's embrace, no moon's soft kiss,

Only shadows' veiled embrace and moonless nights,

The alchemist, a weaver of enigma, chants,

Arcane melodies that pierce the void's veil.

Ebon potions simmer in onyx cauldrons,

Their essence distilled from forgotten realms,

Each drop a tincture of forgotten memories,

A concoction of lost dreams and starlight's breath.

The astral symphony crescendos, spiraling,

As darkness and light entwine, seeking balance,

The alchemist, eyes ablaze with ancient fire,

Unravels the cosmic threads, seeking truth.

Glyphs etched on obsidian tablets sing,

Their meaning veiled, yet yearning to be known,

For Cryptic Alchemy weaves the fabric of existence,

Where shadows birth illumination, and silence speaks.

So listen, mortal seeker, to the whispers of the void,

For within their echoes lie the keys, the ciphered codes,

Unlock the gates, step beyond the mundane,

And become the alchemist, weaver of mysteries.

7th poem: **Whispers from the Attic**

Creaking floorboards, distant voices,

A symphony of past choices,

Echoes of steps that once did pace,

Through corridors of time and space.

Above, where dust motes dance in light,

The attic holds its court at night,

A realm of silence, still and deep,

Where secrets their sacred vigil keep.

What tales are etched within these walls?

Of grandeur's rise and empire's falls,

The gentle touch of a lover's hand,

A sailor's journey to distant lands.

Here, the whispers are not of dread,

But of life's tapestry, finely thread,

A dressmaker's needle, a writer's pen,

Moments captured, again and again.

The attic, with its musty scent,

Is a treasure trove of times spent,

A chest of memories, locked away,

Awaiting the light of day.

Photographs in sepia tones,

Love letters in heartfelt overtones,

A child's toy, long forgotten,

In this space, nothing is rotten.

Each creak a word, each shadow a story,

A chronicle of both joy and worry,

The attic speaks to those who hear,

Its whispers clear, its message dear.

So venture forth, if you dare,

To uncover the mysteries waiting there,

For in the whispers from the attic's heart,

Lies a world set apart.

8th poem: **Gargoyle's Serenade**

I was supposed to be sent away,

To lands where stone figures don't sway,

But here I stand, a guardian grim,

Upon the cathedral's highest rim.

Carved from the earth's own rugged bone,

I watch the city, silent and alone,

A sentinel in the sky's expanse,

Overseeing the human dance.

My gaze is fixed, my purpose clear,

To ward off evil, to calm the fear,

With guitar in hand, I play my part,

A serenade from the stone heart.

The melody weaves through spire and stone,

A song of ages, through winds blown,

It tells of battles, of love, of strife,

Of the endless ebb and flow of life.

The chords resonate, deep and profound,

In every corner, the notes resound,

A testament to the watch I keep,

While the city below lies in sleep.

By day, I'm still, a figure austere,

By night, my music, the heavens hear,

A symphony for the stars above,

Played with a touch of eternal love.

The moon bathes me in silver light,

As I play on through the quiet night,

A gargoyle's serenade, pure and true,

For the cathedral and for you.

So let the guitar's voice rise and swell,

Let it break the night's silent spell,

For in this song, you'll find ensnared,

The spirit of the guardians paired.

And when the dawn paints the sky anew,

And the city stirs, life to pursue,

Remember the music that filled the air,

From the gargoyle's perch, high up there.

9th poem: ** Midnight Masquerade **

Under the moon's silver gaze, the night unfurls its cape,

A ballroom emerges in the forest's embrace.

"Midnight Masquerade," whispers the wind's soft escape,

Where shadows and starlight waltz in silent grace.

Masked figures glide, their steps a silent plea,

To the rhythm of hearts, to the pulse of the night.

Each turn, a story, a hidden fantasy,

Faces veiled in mystery, souls alight.

The moonlit sky, a witness to their dance,

Casts a glow on masks of velvet and lace.

In the masquerade's enchanting trance,

Time dissolves in the dancers' harmonious space.

A clock strikes twelve, the spell gently breaks,

But the dance lives on in dreams it awakes.

For in the night's tender, fleeting sweep,

The masquerade's magic is ours to keep.

10th poem: ** Fading Candlelight **

Quiet whispers linger in the room's embrace,

Where the last candle's flame begins its trace.

"Fading Candlelight," it hums with grace,

A tale of twilight, in the evening's chase.

Its flame dances with a tender, wistful air,

A ballet of shadows in the dimming lair.

Each flicker, a memory, each spark, a sigh,

A symphony of moments, as time ticks by.

The wax drips slowly, a river of tears,

For the passing days, the fleeting years.

The light wanes gently, a golden hue,

A silent sentinel in the dusk's purview.

Around the flame, the darkness creeps,

A cloak of obsidian, where daylight sleeps.

Yet in its warm embrace, the candle stands,

A beacon of hope in the night's vast lands.

The room breathes softly, a lullaby's tune,

As the candle's aura fills the cocoon.

Stories unfold in its radiant bloom,

A dance of life in the encroaching gloom.

The flame leans low, a lover's caress,

Against the night, a silent confess.

Its brilliance wavers, a faltering heart,

A sign that soon, it must depart.

But oh, the tales it could tell,

Of love and loss, of heaven and hell.

In its light, life found a stage,

A book of hours on an ephemeral page.

Now the candle's breath grows thin,

A final flicker from within.

The shadows lengthen, reaching out,

Embracing all in a silent shout.

And as the last ember takes its bow,

The room is shrouded in the now.

"Fading Candlelight," a whisper's trace,

Leaves behind a darkened space.

Yet in the black, a new day stirs,

For life persists, it still endures.

The candle's gone, but in its wake,

A new dawn blooms, for us to take.

So let the night claim its due,

For with the morn, we start anew.

In the heart of darkness, find the light,

And hold it close, through the longest night.

[heyyallitsbethfanfic]

The Ghost of You

The sun beamed down on the two lovers resting on a giant mushroom top in Alfheim Online. They had been working on clearing a bunch of side quests with their party that day. But to one of the two, it felt off. His movements were sluggish, his body disconnected from the avatar it resided in. To most, it would seem normal, his movements still had the disciplined form of someone who had spent his life training in combat, despite him giving up the sword in the real world long ago. But to his partner, both in combat and in soul, she could tell he was struggling. 

“Kirito, are you feeling alright?” The autumn-haired girl stoked the dark hair of the noir boy who laid his head on her stomach.

“Hmm? Yeah everything’s fine Asu, why?” While his demeanor was calm, she could tell there was something eating him up inside.

“Honey, I’m your wife, and your partner too. If there’s anything troubling you, I’ll be right by your side to fight it with you.” The raven haired spriggan closed his eyes and weakly smiled. He knew that Asuna was his true other half, a partner in life and in love, but he was worried about something that might tear them apart.

“Asuna… I need to convert my account over again. I might be gone for a bit, so if you could… While I’m gone, please give Yui and Strea twice the amount of love as normal.” He thought of his daughters, and hated the thought of needing to leave them behind for any time, but he knew there was something he had to face alone.

“Of course honey, but call them every night at least okay?”

“Heh, been doing that since we escaped SAO. I can promise that won’t change one bit.” But some other things might.” He left the thought to himself, he wasn’t ready to commit to any real change, but he needed to see the truth for himself.

“Do you need me to look after Excalibur for you? You lost most of your items the last time you converted over…”

“Haha, nah that’s not an issue. Sinons already got that covered, after all, it’s her sword, she just knighted me with it.” He laughed seeing the flustered face of his wife, even though their situation was more open than most, she still got a little jealous of the girl’s hanging off of him, especially the teal sniper who taunted the two of them the most. “And if she converts, it should default to Yui now since she’s taken my inventory any other time I convert.”

“Alright, we should get back to the others to continue the quests now, good chance for you to say bye before you log off for a while anyway.”

“Of course. Dontcha go marryin someone else without my permission first~”

“H-hey!”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how Liz stares at ya Asu. I’m sure she’ll take great~ care of you while I’m gone~” He giggled, imagining the sight of his wife and Liz locked in an embrace together.

“Even if she does, you’ll still always be my beloved partner, promise~”

“Heh. Didn’t take much convincing- you’re so cute.”

The spriggan rested on the undine, never wanting to leave her. But today, he needed to face his fears. Alone. A mission for the solo player. 

…

A year prior, an event stuck itself to Kirito’s brain like a parasyte. He could never fully escape the thought of it. He had logged into Gun Gale Online in order to investigate the DeathGun case. Due to the gacha system that determined avatars in the game, Kirito had awoken to the sight of his hair in his face. Long streaks of grey locks adorned him, framing his soft face. Staring at his reflection in the windows of nearby shops in the dark brutalist environment, he noticed things in himself he was afraid of. His figure was soft and feminine, far from the typical soldier of this world. It was not too dissimilar to his real life appearance, but the pronounced hips and narrow shoulders made him shift in place uncomfortably. He stared at his visage, noting he looked as if he was Sugu’s big sister instead of her big brother. He slowly met his own gaze. His eyes had always been a dark grey, something his adoring sister always teased him for, calling him a zombie with the dead gaze that adorned him. But that day he saw something different in them, where a blank glaze once covered his view, there were now highlights visible for the first time, and a deep purple hue that left him breathless. He grasped at his chest over his heart and was hit with a deep pain, and an even deeper longing. But he had to move forward, he had a mission.

A week ago Kazuto had been out with his sister Suguha though they were only related tangentially as cousins. That became something Kazuto had become fixated on as throughout their day out, multiple people had stopped them, asking if they were twin sisters. Kazuto didn’t look his age due to his years in Sword Art Online, his body permanently stunted by his inability to move for so long. But he was really wondering if he truly looked that similar to Suguha because of it. He recalled that as he was young, they were confused for twin girls all the time, but they were younger then… It made sense right? Kazuto stole an old skirt from Suguha’s closet one day as she was out practicing kendo. She hadn’t worn it in years, he figured she wouldn’t notice if it were gone… He slipped it on and stared himself in the mirror that spanned the back of his bedroom door. Despite the clear difference in their “endowment” Kazuto had seen as bright as day the connection. Even if his chest wasn’t voluptuous, even if his hips weren’t as pronounced, he saw the obvious connections between him and his sister. His face was soft and round like hers. And in the center of it all, he saw it again, his dead eyes replaced with the loving purple gaze he’d seen back in Gun Gale. He threw off the skirt in a fit of anger at himself. He stashed it beneath his bed, he didn’t wanna look at it. But… his heart longed for something regardless.

Today, as Kirito logged out of Alfheim Online, he converted his account over to Gun Gale Online once more. He needed to spend more time there… He needed to see himself again. 

…

A dark raven was prone atop a clocktower, aiming down at the streets below. Through the scope of their Hecate sniper rifle, they could nearly see the stubble on the men in the party stories below them.

BANG!

A single clean shot had decimated two of the party members.

“I’ve gotten good with this thing… heh.” The shadowy figure smiled to themselves as they lined up another shot. “Maybe now I can give her that duel I promised…”

BANG!

A full party wiped in such a short amount of shots. Too easy. The slender gargoyle on the roof brushed their long locks behind them, the deep grey shimmered with silver highlights despite the soot and ash coating it. Suddenly, they heard someone ascending the wall in front of them. They prepped their shot, but they were caught off guard by a blur of seafoam green, before their eyes met a familiar smiling face in their scope.

“Hey Sinon, come here often?” A playful taunt escaped their lips.

“Yes actually, I do believe you’re in my spot after all Kirito.” She giggled, a sight Kirito had grown to love as Sinon had opened up more and more. “I’m surprised you’re using a real weapon instead of wildly flailing your photon sword about.”

“Oh you just miss seeing me with a sword in my hands dontcha?” Sinon blushed and angrily pouted, another adorable sight. “Well, my lovely partner here in GGO taught me so much, I figured I’d honor her by using the same weapon as I practiced. I need to give ya a good duel sometime after all.~”

As he grew closer to each of his friends, the one-sided teasing evolved into a playful banter between them, learning how to push each and every one of their buttons.

“So that’s why you left ALO huh? Trying to get a headstart on training for our next B.O.B. huh?”

“I think you’ve got years ahead of me Sinonon~ One week away won’t save me. But truthfully that’s not the full reason.” Their eyes shifted away from Sinon, and towards the floor before smirking and shaking the thought away.

“I’d hope so, it’d be such a shame if my Star-Crossed Soldier was training without me~” She playfully pouted at Kirito.

Ever since the last B.O.B. ended, article after article dubbed the two winners as the Star-Crossed Soldiers, after Kirito’s embrace with Sinon in the trials, their close encounters in the cave and Sinon’s literal fiery embrace at the end to claim their tied victory. Liz had given Kirito an earful before the articles came out with how close he’d been to Sinon, but after the nickname appeared online, Kirito became convinced Liz and Asuna would actually kill him.

“Jeez, don’t let Asu hear you callin’ me that, otherwise I won’t be the only one getting pierced by her rapier.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not lookin’ to get inbetween ya- in that way at least~” The look she gave Kirito with that comment seemed to literally take health off the poor player.

“Anyways, why’re you here if not to train to win over me?”

“...” Kirito shifted his look away from her, and with that motion he accidentally revealed the accessories adorning his hair. Sinon snickered.

“Ah, I see you’re just here to play dress up huh?” Her eyes wandered and looked over the rest of the boy. He still had his trademark carbon fiber cloak, but now his outfit beneath was…

“Kirito… is that my outfit in black and silver?”

The noirette blushed a vibrant crimson, and smiled.

“I think there’s someone you need to meet Shino.” The girl was surprised by Kirito’s use of her real name ingame. He typically tried to refer them as their avatar’s name. This was deeper, this was personal to her. 

Shino grabbed the hands of the shadow before her and looked into it’s eyes.

“I think I know who you mean.” She smiled with pride as they drew closer. “What’s your name? Who is my partner in this world?”

The eyes of purple and blue had met, a synthetic gaze between them escalated into a whirlwind. In a moment, they were back in that cave again, holding eachother close, the heat of their bodies pressed against eachother.

“In this world… And all others… My name is Kiriko.”

With those words, Sinon saw Kiriko revert back to how she saw her initially. Another girl, just like her.

They spent the next week training for the upcoming B.O.B. ingame, and shopping for Kiriko in the real world. The night of the battle, Kiriko had stayed at Shino’s apartment, so they could celebrate their victory.

…

A flurry of gunshots was silenced by the cruel end of a photon sword. Despite her training with a sniper, Kiriko decided to return to the classics for most of the match. Her and Sinon made for a perfect duo as front line and supporting fire. Her favorite moment had been when Sinon and her had been cornered, with Sinon facing her while she had her back to two enemies. Sinon fired at Kiriko, and she split the bullet just like in their trial duel, with the two pieces finding their home in the skulls of their attackers. It was a game now, just for fun, and they wanted to perform.

“I suppose that is the last of them huh?”

“Suppose so.”

The two stood against the other, scratched, bruised, covered in virtual blood of both their own, and of others. And now with all cameras on them. 

“You ready to give the girls at home a show Kiriko?”

They smiled devilishly at each other.

“Always.”

In a swift movement, Kiriko removed her heavy black cloak, revealing the matching outfit with Sinon’s own. It was practically bikini armor, except for soldiers instead of for knights, despite Sinon’s insistence it wasn’t. Sinon revealed a photon sword of her own, and as the cloak hit the dusty ground behind Kiriko, both lept towards eachother with fire in their eyes. The clash of purple and green blades sent small debris around them flying, each strike was more powerful than the last. But it was less of a duel, and more of a dance. Every movement, despite the power, was elegant, with perfect footwork and seamless motion. They circled eachother, blade against blade. With every strike forward, the other responded with a dodge and their own strike. Neither had grazed the other, only their sword’s connecting the two. The chorus of slashes against slashes sent both blade’s flying, as Kiriko caught Sinon’s and Sinon caught Kiriko’s, and they continued their masquerade. They drew closer and closer together, despite the blade’s repelling eachother, their bodies had called to eachother. In a flash both lights extinguished, and the two embraced. They smiled at eachother, aware of the camera right beside their faces. They closed their eyes and their lips clashed against eachother. Love blooming on the battlefield. Sinon pressed Kiriko’s blade against her back, and ignited it, impaling the two of them together, as they tied another B.O.B.

…

The pair awoke from their brawl back in the real world. Both had imprints on their faces from where their Amusphere’s had sat on them. They giggled to eachother as they traced the marks, holding eachother’s faces. 

“I’m glad you got Asu’s approval before all that, I know that Liz’ll still tear both of us apart though” Sinon snicked, imagining the pink leprechaun’s stunned face watching their dance.

“Hehe, yeahhhhh. Just because me and Asuna are poly doesn’t mean the jealousy’ll ever just up and leave. Liz is probably upset that I managed to steal both Asuna and you for myself.” 

“Oh I think she’ll be more jealous of me, after all, I was the first one with the new girl in the group.” She laughed at the thought, knowing all of the girls’ not-so-subtle-crushes. 

“Oh yeah, speaking of, I guess tonight they all get to meet Kiriko at the party in ALO huh?”

“As long as you’re not nervous, and I’ll be there supporting you always.”

“With you by my side, I’ll always be ready. Let’s hop over and meet them.”

An evil grin reached Shino’s lips.

“Welllllll you and I both need to transfer our accounts back over, so you should set that up real quick.”

“Right, right of course. Better not keep them waiting-”

Kiriko turned away from Shino to her laptop, starting the slow transfer of their accounts. With her attention away, Shino slipped out of her top and pajama bottoms, and waited for Kiriko’s full undivided attention.

“Alright we should be good in around twenty minu- HUH!”

Kiriko’s face was lit ablaze by the sight of the scantily clad girl infront of her.

“Hehehe, whatcha waitin for? I know we got the cash prize, but it’s time for our real~ reward now.”

She unbuckled the back of her bra and let the garment slip down, exposing her modest, but perky chest with a light bounce.

“We won’t keep them waiting long- but I already told Asuna- I get first dibs tonight- which means I get first ever dibs on Kiriko~”

She pounced on Kiriko, pinning her to the bed. 

They showed up in Alfheim, an hour later than everyone expected.

…

Sinon entered the main living space of the home their party had shared. Luckily everyone was enjoying themselves already, but she still stammered out an apology for being so late. 

“Jeez, is Kirito not coming?” Liz said in a huff. “I suppose he just doesn’t wanna show after that little stunt you two pulled.”

Sinon blushed heavily, knowing that stunt was far from the worst thing they’d done. Asuna crept behind Sinon and pulled her in, kissing her on the cheek.

“Mwah~ That’s for stealing away my poor innocent Kirito~” She playfully toyed with the cat, happy with the new arrangement they’d found. But the cat’s face lit up, imagining how there was no innocence left in either of their bodies laying beside eachother in the real world. She shook the thought away.

“Hehe, just borrowing her~ she’s yours again tonight”

The party went silent

“HER?!”

As if on queue, a new cait sith appeared from the door. She was adorned with a black cloak and risque armor set. Her signature long grey hair fell down her back, looking just like Kirito in GGO. And she could barely look up at the party as she announced “H-hey everyone. My name’s Kiriko…”

Before anyone had the chance to say anything, Asuna, Yui and Strea all embraced the girl.

“Yayyyyy I get two mommies now!” Yui cheered

“Ah well that explains the armor choices…” Leafa sputtered out.

“We leave Sinon alone with Kiriko for a week and she comes back a girl… Yeah that tracks actually.” Liz was practically beaming.

“I was wondering about Kiriko’s choice of attire in GGO… But now I can’t wait to see her choices in here~” Philia dreamed of all the different event cosmetics and rare treasures Kiriko could now be adorned in.

Silica and Argo were hovering around the new cait sith in their presence. 

“So was I the only one who knew Kii-gal was a girl?”

“Maybe! But now I get an adoptive big sister!” 

“Hey! Kiriko’s my actual big sister!”

“We can share!”

The crowd started talking inbetween themselves, talking about all the fun things they can do now that Kiriko’s a girl, and Asuna took this as an opportunity to pull her to the side.

“So this was what you were worried about earlier huh?”

“I was worried that you’d leave when you found out what I’d been going through… I’m glad I can still be yours.”

“Oh honey… I love you, husband, wife, partner, I didn’t fall in love with a boy, I fell in love with you. The hero who saved us from Aincrad, and the caring parent to our kids. This is just a new side of you I get to love, and I’m going to love every second of learning about you Kiriko. Now ummm. After the party can I head over? It’s been a bit since we um.”

“Heh- about that… If you wanna head over, you’ll have to ask Shino if she’s okay with you staying…”

“Sh-Shino? Are you diving from her apartment?”

“Hahaha, well, she did call first dibs…”

Asuna laughed and pulled Kiriko into a kiss. She was glad that Kiriko was still hers, even if she was being shared between a few others. Since for the both of them, regardless of all the others they would come to love, they were still that happy couple from back in Aincrad, soulmates from then, to forever.

[fangirlshrewt97]

D20 - Dungeons and Drag Queens Ep 1 Notes

Hey @lurkerviolin,

My notes ran too long so I thought I’d post it as a text post 😅. I do realize some of these are incoherent, and lacking my usual amount of emojis but I typed it in my laptop instead of phone so...

Also I think i kept switching up all their pronouns cause I wasn’t sure which was the right one? 😅😅

Anyways here we go:

This theme song is already so chaotic lol

God still so strange to see Brennan all made up, but he looks great

It's so nice to see how the Queens are all so engaged. Brennan is radiating such incredible Storyteller energy right now, it's amazing.

Lololol oh no Monet! "We have someone who works in identity theft" lol

Jujubee is so entranced as Brennan is describing Everdeep. Mood.

Oh my gosh the Queens are so funny. The riffing about the gem's origins.

EQUAL OPPORTUNITY FOR WITCHES!

Hmm yeah she did talk to her own mother like that ...

The way it was written by Tuna Turner! I don't know how much the Dropout people asked the Queens to lean on puns but they are doing amazing. Bob especially is SO into it.

The growl from Alaska lol

Hmm, has Bob played before? They seem more accustomed to the game play.

Ok yeah I think Bob might be my favorite so far

Jujubee is a close second, they are so enthusiastic but so lost. It's endearing. "We went to Cher's last first concert to gether." lolol

Cause they're an inch from 5' feet lolololol oh my gooood.

These interjections are such a gift. They just make the story so much funnier

Lieutenant Alvin the chipmunk lol cute!!

Jujubee forcing Brennan to narrate as Alvin was such a Mood. Yes, make him work!

Zaria Hex: Beware her death drop *I snorted, oh my god, ingenious*

SHE ATE THE SEED LOLOLOLOL

"9.30" "Yeah, it's late for you Grandma" lol

Alaska's growling accent is an excellent character choice

Bob entering the bar and immediately describing what they are seeing, are we sure they are completely new to this?

Oh my god I love Kashra, look at that build!

Daggy is also really handsomely designed.

Makes sense for the two fighters to be able to down the drink no problem.

Aww two nat ones

"If your perception's a one, that means you are delusional" lol

Oh my god Jujubee is too cute, with how often they get confused.

A racotour is when you contour with a rat LOLOLOL

"Oh, he's a pimp"

This is a greatseason for newcomers to DnD. Brennan is such a good teacher

Bump is kinky! LOL

Gertrude is so clever. I love how quickly Bob and Monet understood the concept of the game.

A 24?! She is going to pulvarize him!

Lololol, just so you know when you turn 36 yourknees know when it's going to rain.

Idk who Michelle visage it, but I like how Jujubee says Brennan. Yeah he may be the DM guiding them in the adventure, but to them, he's also like a younger kid/brother-type.

I remember Raphaniel casting Detect thoughts in Ep 1 of the ravening war and just getting blasted with horny thoughts lol

"Twyla! Don't look around! Don't freak out!

Oooh Wallace... I like that idea, yeah his clasp is a different colour cause he's an undead pretending not to be. Solid guess.

Oh damn they went from initiative to beast assault. Zero to 60 indeed.

A Cat Tree??? So out of left field. God, you got to love first time players just doing the wildest moves.

Amazing Grapple. Like a To-Go container.

It's probbaly Swallace, drop the 'S', no one will know . LOLOL

This Mark Ronson gag is also so funny.

Cousin KK, incredible.

Ooh, Brennan is so good about tying far flung stories together.

Aww Jujubee really liking Brennan'sflowery descriptions! Cute.

I really like how Brenan incorporates all their random additions into his narrative. As a DM, really letting the players's additions become part of his world. It's very kind.

Lol, the caption for the guardian being "Stoned for days, Darling". All these taglines are so clever!

Oh my god, the camera jumping back and forth between Monet and Jujubee instead of Brennan as he is trying to do a play. Far more entertaining, good call Director/editor

Alaska's voice for Princess is so fitting and so funny.

"Just straight up the same one?" Judgey much, stone guy?

Brennan is so good with descriptions of what is happening.

OOOOH They look so into it in the next episode. This looks like a cool side quest, can't see what comes next.

[pupmusebox]

Little did Venus know was that his life would take a sharp turn and go into a weird territory as well when finding himself falling before crashing to a cold floor, rubbing his head with that slight hiss of pain when taking a bit to collect himself only to have that look of confusion of the room he was in. A dark like council room he guessed before finally getting up with that throbbing bump to his head from the fall and looking around when lost as to why he was brought here without warning or consent. "They still seem lost without me it looks like..." "Wait... why I am I thinking of that... who are they and why do I feel like I want to cry...??" Raising a hand to his face when tears were rolling down his cheeks while his throat felt like it closed shut and how the room was spinning from how it felt to him, "Where's... here...? Ahh..." the spike of stress would have it's toll on Venus before he passed out from the unknown rush of things that he was met with. "Welcome to Devildom my dear human reincarnated self... funny as that seems to be..."

Caught by someone before he cracked his head on the floor while raven locks be plastered on his forehead when overwhelmed with so much, although the soul Venus would bear would recognize such a place for it was their old life's former home andthe shock of it all was a tad much. Plus it be no surprise as to why he was in the shape he was right now while that brief ghostly image of Pride's visage would flicker over Venus as if further sealing the shocking fact they be the lost one of the Avatars of Sin but that be fate's cruel hand when they had been reincarnated as a human.