#I don't dislike it enough to actively try to hide it

[tracing-rivers]

Ah, the nose, that always controversial piece of cartilage and skin that's generally located in the middle of a person's face.

If the shape of your nose has changed before (cosmetic surgery, medical surgery, broke it, burnt it, cat ate it), vote with its current appearance in mind and expend in the tags/replies if you feel like it

[theminecraftbee]

okay, okay, superhero au concept of the day: soup group identity shenanigans au. the soup group all rent a house together, they became friends... i don't know when, still figuring this out, but they're all buddies. however, they're all involved in the hero scene in their own way, and everyone's levels of knowing how involved in the hero scene they are is varied.

impulse is a relatively new hero (name pending), after an accident at his desk job somehow left him with electricity-based powers. he's kind of awkward and new at the whole gig, but he is determined to do his best! he is keeping his identity secret to keep what he thinks are his two civilian housemates safe, as well as to keep his other friends safe. he's a bit over his head but he mostly fights low-level villains at the moment anyway. he knows the least information of everybody but he's ALSO the most likely to have a crisis if he learns anything about his housemates.

pearl is a vigilante known as the cleaning lady. she's not so much an active combatant most of the time as someone who takes advantage of existing fights and crime scenes for her own ends, helping to make sure she puts down criminals and collects information from the aftermath. she'll help either side in order to meet her goal of cleaning up the city from the chaos it's currently in, and she dislikes most serious crime, she just... goes about it in a way most heroes do not agree with. she's figured out impulse's identity and avoids him in her night work because she's certain he'd clock her immediately. as for the red deer... she's worked with her once or twice and is kind of terrified, but doesn't know her identity at all.

gem is the soup group's mysteriously rich friend who is the one helping them rent the house together. really it would be suspicious she was renting with the kind of money her job makes and how much she can afford with what she supposedly actually makes if both pearl and impulse weren't so busy hiding their identities. and gem's glad! she's excited to have friends she can play civilian with--that doesn't normally last this long! because gem is the terrifying mercenary and hitman for hire, the red deer. compared to both impulse and pearl (who are normally considered small-time), gem is considered a "if you are not specifically pseudo-hawk, do not engage" level threat. she's particularly known for, if her job is to take down someone interesting, handing them a weapon and letting them have a "fair fight" back. only pseudo-hawk (real name false symmetry) has held her off before. the rest of her targets go home in body bags, and she gets her money. she rarely actually kills someone who ISN'T a target, but she still hurts them enough to keep them out of the way if they try to interfere.

and gem... gem knows EXACTLY who her housemates are. she's keeping an eye on the chatter about them, too. right now, no one who wants their head is offering the kind of money the red deer is worth, of course, so she doesn't have to worry. her status as one of the most dangerous villains in the city remains safe, and she can have her civilian friends, especially since she's pretty sure they don't know who she is! but if any of that falls apart. if they find her identity. if impulse manages to piss off an actually powerful villain, or pearl finally steps on the toes of a gang that can do something about her... well. well. gem... doesn't miss a target. and it would be fun! it would be... something, at least. she's starting to not be sure what she'd do, and that's... dangerous, in her line of work.

but the thing is, it's nice sharing a house, the three of them. surely, the weight of everyone's respective secrets and allegiances won't collapse around them!

...right?

[melancholyhigh]

sooo... i just read your "sunrise" fic and i'm obsessed. the plot was great and the way you narrated the feelings and the setting??? i'm in love. i live for your subby!leon. i don't know if you're taking requests right now but i would love to read more about him:)

MIDDAY.

ft. brother’s best friend!leon x afab!reader

synopsis. your mom thinks leon is a bad influence on your brother, but only if she knew how much of a good boy he is.

content. 0.6k words. smut. subby leon, handjob, begging, praise kink, thigh riding (?), edging, marking, sneaking around.

note. ty for the requests anon !! <33 it’s basically a 1.5 to sunrise. sorry for being so inactive :( tryna get through some requests <3 lmk if u guys would like a full sequel to sunrise tho!!

masterlist. reblogs & comments are appreciated :3

You couldn’t fathom how your mother could dislike Leon. He was one of your brother’s friends who didn’t actively try to be a nuisance to your neighbourhood, and it was shocking when they even became acquaintances – let alone best friends. 

She says he’s a bad influence on your brother, but he’s the kindest boy ever met. You must be biased because you think he’s a very good boy. He’s especially good when he’s beneath you, his blue eyes brimmed with tears, begging you to let him come, but, oh, doesn’t your perfect boy have such nice manners?

“Please, please, please, ‘m so close,” he’s sobbing as you continue to move your hand up and down his throbbing cock. Your digits are stained with tacky precum, thumbing the sensitive head. He was so gorgeous, rosy cheeks stained with tears, and his lips all swollen and slick with spit.

You told him a few minutes ago to quiet down �� you’ll get caught, but he continues to whine and plead. You're beginning to think he wants to be seen at your mercy, crying for you. His soft whimpers and quiet moans get you aroused, soaking through your shorts, and Leon can feel you on his thighs where you’ve made yourself comfortable. It drove him mad when you rut against him, trying to soothe the ache between your legs that he caused.

He wants nothing more than for you to strip down and sit on his face for him to lap at your cunt like a starved man. Instead, you are entranced with him, admiring the cute expressions he makes when you give his dick a firm squeeze. He’d say it’s humiliating if it didn’t feel so good to be under you, panting and sobbing.

Arching his back, Leon feels his impending orgasm creep up on him, only to dissipate rather than crash when you cease your movements on his erection entirely. Head digging further into your pillow, he whines loudly, only to be muffled by your lips moving against his. Despite the seemingly delicate way in which you touch his body, your lips are hungry against his, tasting him as you stifle his moans.

Your lips trail from his to the sensitive skin of his neck, sucking red marks that were too difficult to hide, but that was the point. Your brother had congratulated him for finally getting some when he saw the purplish bruises on his fair skin. He chuckled at the irony of him fucking his sibling, boyishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“P- please, fuck, angel. Can I come?” he pleads. Leaning back on his thighs, you let your nails scrape the flesh on his chest and stomach, allowing red scratches to rise in its paths. He feels you shift on his thighs, subtly grinding your needy cunt on him as he begs for your attention on his cock. 

You had been denying his release for too long now, but you finally had time with him for yourself, so you wanted to abuse it to the best of your ability. When he peers up at you, gripping your hips so eagerly as moans slip past his parted lips, you want to give him to the moon and more. 

“You’ve been so good f’me, Leon. So pretty ‘nd obedient. I think you deserved to come,” you whisper back to him, gripping his length once more and pumping him slowly. Your words are almost enough to make him come undone into an incoherent mess, and when you squeeze the tip of his cock, his soft tummy clenches as ropes of his thick cum spurt out his overtly sensitive dick onto his chest.

Peppering his face with kisses, you mumble soft praises as you take care of him.

“You’re such a good boy for me, baby. I love you s’much.”

[melodic-haze]

"Your eyes..."

"Mm? What about them?"

"They're really pretty."

You hear your partner laugh airily, her voice rich and seductively raspy and so very addictive. You see those beautiful eyes of hers crease from the reflection of the mirror as she puts her contact lenses on carefully. Once she was done with that, she turned around and made her way to the edge of the bed, where you laid under the sheets after your.. activities not so long ago.

"Why, thank you," she says. "They are rather lovely, aren't they?"

You nod because it's the truth, "Yeah. Though, you say that but you hide them before you head outside. Why?"

The Stellaron Hunter shrugs with that ever-so-serene smile on her face, "Can't a woman be mysterious, honey? Maybe my reasonings aren't as interesting as you--" her hand quickly moves to tap your nose before dropping to hold your hand, "--seem to think."

"Aren't they, though?" You raise an eyebrow in scepticism, "I'd like to think I know you well enough by now—you're not the type to do things 'by chance'."

Her expression gives nothing away, even as you continued to stare at her and scrutinised her to find even a sliver of a reaction. You loved your girlfriend, you really did, but she was so hard to read most of the time that you found it frustrating. And she knew about it too! Hell, she even said that she understood and she wasn't mad that you found that part of her frustrating, but still.

But then you see her smile widen a fraction, and you can't help but narrow your eyes.

"You're trying to gauge my reaction to your question, right?"

"And failing miserably, yeah."

"Then there's your answer."

..?

You sit up, eyebrows furrowed and your tone confused, "You're going to have to clarify for me, babe."

Her hand then comes up to your cheek, her palm unbelievably smooth, soft and lacking of any callouses thanks to the gloves she wears. Her thumb gently swiped under your eye as she spoke, "'Eyes are the windows to your soul'. Familiar with the turn of phrase?"

You nod, bringing her palm closer to your lips to kiss it before answering, "Me and everyone else in the universe, probably. Why?"

"I don't like it."

You blink at the admission—while she did have her opinions, and even acted on some of them if it didn't affect Elio's script, she was never someone that really verbalised her likes and dislikes beyond simple things such as her liking coats and playing the violin.

"You don't?"

"No."

"Why?"

She shrugs as she lets her hand drop down, "I suppose I would much rather not, ah.. let anyone see beyond that window of mine. Such a sensitive thing is my property, after all."

Then it's you, who reaches for her hand, "But I thought you prided yourself in letting Elio dictate your every move. That's like.. the equivalent of letting him taking hold on the property you say you're defending."

"Oh, but that is where you're wrong, darling."

"Really? Why?"

Her face gets closer to yours and she presses a brief peck on your cheek, and you can smell a mix of her perfume and your shampoo clinging onto her.

"I may walk the path that Destiny has laid out for me," she presses her forehead on yours, such an intimate gesture coming from a wanted criminal that you probably would have been surprised if it weren't for your intimate familiarity, "but it is you, who has control of my heart. Why do you think I take off my contact lenses in the comfort of your presence?"

...

You couldn't help the wide smile on your face as you lightly slapped her shoulder, though you didn't pull away, "You are SO cheesy when you want to be."

"I do try my best to make up for lost time. And speaking of..."

The both of you look at the time on your phone laying on the bedside table; it's almost five in the morning.

..You can't help that slight bitterness within you, "I just wish we didn't have to sneak around like this."

"In due time, we won't have to." You both lean in at the same time for a short while before pulling back, "No matter what the outcome may be, I swear to you that we will be together in the end."

"We better. Now go," you gently push her off you, "I need to look like I haven't been in a suspicious state of undress and you need to scram before the others detain you outside of your boss' plans."

She smiles again as she steps back and puts her gloves on, though this time it's a lot more genuine.

A lot more open. All for you and you only.

You turn around, away from her, to get out of your bed and over to the closet before--

"Y/N?"

You don't bother to look back, "Yes?"

"I love you."

Such a soft admission from someone so.. so seemingly emotionally unavailable beyond that glossy magenta veneer of smiles.

Despite all the sneaking around and the conflict, moments like these make you think it's all worth it in the end.

Click.

"..Kafka?"

You hear something whirr softly as she hums in question, "Hm?"

"I love you too."

The whirring fades, and you look back to where she was before.. to find nobody there. It was as if she was never here.. and as if she never heard your response.

...

But you're sure she knew.

You're sure she knew you loved her too.

(And if Silver Wolf's weirded-out messages of Kafka spacing out like she was in some kind of sickeningly sweet daydream indicated anything, it was that you were absolutely fucking right.)

[luimagines]

Out of all the links that don't really like humans, how would they react if they found out their soulmate was a human? Would any of them try to deny it, or would they try to learn to accept it and move past their dislike for humans for their soulmates sake? The idea of a hylian that hates humans, and a human that doesn't trust hylians very much because of their obvious dislike of humans, going through enemies to lovers is so interesting to me. And it has the potential for some hilarious moments I think 😆

You. You get the potential.

Warrior, Legend, Hyrule and Four are the ones that are the most "skeptical", to put it nicely. Time is a pure middle ground.

Time would likely need little convincing but he's incredibly apathetic, not wanting to get too close for personal reasons. I mean he's had to say goodbye to everyone who was ever important to him. It's not even about Reader being human. His issues are more about being soulmates tbh.

Four is the runner up. His soulmate would need to put in a little work (whether they know it or not), but it'll be fairly easy to get past his defenses afterward. Humans, with the superior weaponry and craftmanship, would be able to garner the respect and admiration of the blacksmith once they start talking shop. All Four needs is a little time to get used to the idea and eventually grow to not care about what they are and begin to care about who they are.

Legend is all snark and attitude and it'll take something literally hitting him in the head to get him to consider Reader as potential. It sound like I'm trying to be metaphorical. Nah. Legend is gonna have to be in a life or death situation where Reader save his hide before he's going to admit to anything, let alone start to open up to them.

Hyrule is worse believe it or not. He won't be snarky, but he'll avoid Reader like the plague purely on principle. It's not even actively being disrespectful, he's just got Reader on the peripheral if they ever decide to act up. He's got zero reason to trust them and doesn't want to give them any opportunity to prove him right. He'll be civil.... on good days. But good luck getting him to even look in Reader's direction. And add soulmates on top of that? Hyrule is gonna just ignore it all together. Because- no. It can't be. He refuses. And if he believes hard enough, maybe it'll manifest into reality.

Warrior takes the cakes. Good luck, Reader. You'll need all the help you can get. Fervently thinks of Reader as an enemy even if they have never met before that. In fact, being his soulmate makes him hate them more. Because of course they are his soulmate. Just his luck. Surrounded by traitors and sketchy people just like before. Now, we know he has no reason to think this way, but he's not afraid of voicing his "distaste", for the lack of better words. He's like Legend in which he's going to need a life or death situation for Reader to gain his respect. and he's like Hyrule in which he'll avoid Reader at all costs. But to be his soulmate? He's gonna need even more time than Four. He's got ideas and they run deep. You'll the patience and determination of Frisk from Undertale just to even remotely be considered on good terms with this guy. Of course, there's potential for him to come around- just like all the other boys. But he's quite literally worse case scenario.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hello, sorry to bother you but do you think you could do one of yn mikelson is a little girl who follows Hailey everywhere since she feels very comfortable with her and when Jackson tries to get close to yn she growls and then bites

Alone

Baby Mikaelson sister reader x Hayley Marshall and Jackson Kenner

Warnings: none that I can think of

A/n: I've made this into a happy ending, I hope you like it! +sorry for not posting as much in the past few weeks or month, I've been busy with work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You've clung to Hayley ever since you arrived in New Orleans with your big sister, Rebekah. You met her in the plantation house where she was in the sitting room, on one of the old but fancy armchairs.

Ever since, you've clung to her, feeling safe and calm around her. Don't get it wrong, you love your siblings, but a lot of the time they're either on 'vacations' (how your siblings explain whenever the daggers come into play), or they're so busy that they're barely around. But Hayley has been a constant, always in close proximity and loves to be around you. There are obviously times when she wasn't there, but you were alright because those times also meant that you were with one or more of your siblings. Usually Klaus or Elijah.

Though the werewolf, now turned hybrid, may loath the Mikaelsons most of the time, she hasn't ever thought of you in a negative way.

You're a thousand year plus year old original vampire in a four year old girl's body and mindset, just as you were when Esther turned you guys. It's been hard to get attached to things or people from moving around so much, running from your father and so. You haven't gotten any of the horrendous details of why about most things, but you've been content, knowing your siblings have always been there for you.

And now there's someone else, new, and she sweet, and caring. You got close to her fast. You were there with her throughout most of the day when your siblings weren't around. You found solace in being with her, whether that be cuddling and talking with her, or to the baby you soon learnt was in her tummy. Or playing games and walking outside in the garden.

And when the baby was born, Hope was now out of Hayley's tummy, as you put it to Klaus, which made him chuckle, it was even better. You now had someone to play with, well soon play with since she was still a small baby. But you could lay with her and read her stories from your fairytale books. And you could have warm cuddles with her and Hayley, that was your favorite nighttime activity. It was relaxing and kept any bad dreams away.

Everything was going smooth, for the most part, until he arrived in your guys' lives. Jackson Kenner. The alpha of the Crescent wolf pack from the bayou.

He just appeared one day, and you didn't take a liking to him. But it was fine, he wasn't around much, and you got to be with Hayley and Hope most of the time.

Until he started to appear more. And he would always only want to be with Hayley, Hope, and weirdly enough you, considering he obviously dislikes your siblings. Meaning he was trying to take Hayley away from you. And you didn't like that. But then what you hated even more was when he tried to ever get close to you. Though all your aggression towards him was brushed off by him and Hayley as you 'needing to warm up to him'.

At times like those, you chose to stick close with Hope. Which meant hiding away in the nursery, pulling up a chair, and climbing up on it to be able to see her. Sometimes you'd slowly and carefully climb into the crib, if you deemed it safe. Because you didn't want to end up hurting your new best friend.

But what's worse than him just being around Hayley is you've caught them kissing before. It was horrifying and gross and something you were furious about. So of course they didn't even know you were there in the first place and you didn't know what to do except for your veins and red ees to pop out. But you held yourself back. You didn't want to hurt Hayley, she's special and you love her.

It has been three weeks that you've seen the man here, and he's getting on your nerves. And for being such a small person, that frustration doesn't have a lot of space to go.

So, you've found yourself ranting to Hope, about your dislikes and hatred towards Jackson. Even though the baby has no idea what you were on about and can't talk herself, it makes you feel better.

But that's all crushed the second Hayley and Jackson walk into the nursery together. It's one of those days you decided to carefully climb into the crib and sit with Hope. With how the younger girl reacts, you know she likes it when you do as well.

You guys were having a good time, but now are interrupted. "Hey girls- how'd you get in there without help?" Hayley pauses, there;'s no one in the abattoir other than the four of you. Plus, the only times when you're in the crib with Hope, is when she lifts you up and down into it when you ask. But obviously she's been mistaken. Her eyes don't leave you two until she hears Jackson's voice.

Oh right, he's there too, you scoff, but it turns more into a little scuffle of a cough than anything. Damn your four year old self.

"I think she found a way herself" Jackson gestures his thumb over to the wooden chair you scooted over to the side of the crib. Hayley follows, and looks over to the set up, and sighs, a smile appearing on her face.

"You could've hurt yourself or Hope, Hun" She places her hands on the rails of the crib, leaning against it, and looks down at where you're holding a 16 month old Hope's hand. "No, I be safe. I make sure she not in the way before" You shake your head, explaining your thought process before you climb in.

"Okay, but promise me next time you get me, or Jackson, or another adult, to help you in. No more climbing. Okay?" She tells you. "Okay, I ask you or Lijah and Niky and Bex." You nod your head, not even mentioning Jackson.

Hayley sighs, shaking her head, a smile lighting up her face just a tad. "Yes, exactly" Hayley says, making Jackson smile as well.

"Okay Sweetie, it's time for Hope to take a nap. So why don't we get you out of that crib and we can have a bit of fun." Hayley leans against the railings of the crib, watching as Hope is already starting to doze off.

You nod your head in understanding and lean over to place a kiss on her head before raising your arms up to be picked up.

Jackson walks over and leans into the crib and picks you up from underneath your arms. And before he can place you on his hip, he almost drops you from the sharp pain emitting from his arm. He lets out a groan of pain, making Hayley immediately turn her attention to you guys.

She brings you into her arms once she sees the blood streaming down Jackson's arm. She lets out a gasp seeing the amount of blood staining his shirt and dribbles of his blood running down your chin.

She nods to her connecting room, and Jackson follows her and you snug in her arms into the bedroom.

"Are you okay?" Hayley asks him urgently after turning around from the door she closed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just stings a bit" Jackson hisses as he wraps his shirt he picked up from the dresser top around the bite marks.

"Okay, okay. Are you sure?" She asks worried. "Hayley, I promise you, I'm okay" Jackson smiles reassuringly.

"Alright," She nods, "Now on to other business, what were you thinking, missy?"

You glare up at her and then over to Jackson, your vampire face coming out, veins popping out underneath your red eyes. A growl makes it's way out of your throat.

"Hey, hey, no! Y/n, stop" Hayley looks back and forth from you to Jackson and then back to you again. "No!" you yell back at her. you then turn to face Jackson again, "Go 'way!" you yell at him. It's bad enough he's always here but if he tries to get close to you then make you good with him then he'll plan to leave and take Hayley and Hope with him. And they'll leave you behind. You don't want that, you don't want Hayley to leave and for Jackson to steal her from you.

Hayley and Jackson both paused, staring at you with their lips parted. It takes a long moment before Hayley finally snaps out of it. "Why would you say that, Sweetie? Jack is a part of this family now" Hayley says, rubbing her hand up and down your small arm.

You snapped your head up at her after what she just said. How could she?! He's not a part of this family, he's an intruder!

"NO!" You scream, tears forming in your eyes. There's so many emotions coursing through you that you don't know what to do with them all.

"No! No! No! No! No! No! No' family! No!" Big tears begin streaming down your cheeks, and past your jaw.

Hayley cupped the back of your head and pulled it against her chest then started rocking back and forth. "Hey, shhhh, it's okay, Sweetie, it's going to be okay. I've got you." Hayley speaks in a soothing voice over your sobs. She's over to Jackson with a helpless look on her face, not knowing where to go from here.

Jackson gives her a reassuring look and nod before making his way quietly over to the two of you.

You're still clung to Hayley, hands clutched to the collar of her soft shirt. You haven't noticed the man less than a foot away before his hand is on your back. The five away is his hands are significantly bigger than Hayley's, and you can feel Hayley's gentle and warm hands supporting the back of your head and your bottom to keep you up.

By now your sobs have died down from clinging against Hayley, but your breathing is beginning to become more erratic again. But before you could start to hyperventilate, Jackson starts to talk.

"Um, Y/n, I know you seem to not like me as much and I can understand why, I do. I'm a stranger who just came out of nowhere and began dating Hayley and get caught up with your family. But I was and am not a threat to you, I want you to know that you're just as safe with me as you are with Hayley. And despite that, I'll never come between you guys. I know you love her very much, Hun, and I know you probably feel threatened by me for taking her away, huh?" Jackson rubs his hand in circles as he calmly talks.

You pull away from Hayley and look up at the werewolf. Slowly, you begin to nod, agreeing. He's right, you do feel threatened that he'll take Hayley away from you.

"You take Hayley away. Leave me alone" your lip juts out and eyes dilate in sadness. Jackson sighs in sympathy, "I'd never take her away from you. I love her very much and think of you both as family."

Jackson lifts his hand up and softly ruffles your hair. "And Hope?" You ask. "Yes, and Hope" Jackson chuckles.

"Jack's right, Sweetie. You don't have to ever worry about us leaving you, alright" Hayley smiles to both you and him. "Okay," you smile. She places a kiss against the crown of your head.

Nothing could ruin this night.

[freyjas-musings]

You claim to be an Elucien but you have never posted art for them, why don't you just accept you hate Elain and that she is a threat to your delulu crackship. People like you are the worst and you pretend to be better than everyone , you are disgusting.

Hey ,

First and foremost when did I ever claim to be an Elucien ? If anything I have actively clarified I am not . Acknowledging that Elucien is end game is common sense and a fact based on Canon info.

I have enough real life things to hate I am not some loser who spends time hating fictional characters. Not all of us are pathetic like you lot , some of us have jobs , families , friends and hobbies basically a good life !!

As far as Elain is concerned I will wait for her book to decide how I feel about her ... I want to wait for how SJM writes her ... I dislike her stans that I can confirm.

Gwynriel is my Roman Empire and I love Nessian and Feysand. They will always be my favourites . This is like a known thing by now .

Also , with commissioning art .... who told you I haven't ever commissioned Elucien art ? I do commission Elucien art , I mainly do that for my friends 🧡. Fact check anonymous idiot this is just embarrassing for you . I infact have 2 commissions for this event.

I am the worst and I am disgusting? Thanks , atleast I am not a jobless asshole hiding and sending shit anons to people , truly no one can get worse than that.

When the hell did I say I am better than most ? You bore me Anon , try harder next time . In the mean time I shall go and enjoy the gywnriel content 😘

[13as07]

Shogi Partner Prequel

(Shikamaru Nara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Maddiepodless]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,790

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Name: Fawn, Sensei

Age Gap (Younger Woman/Older Man)

Smoking

Borderline Pedophilia

Power Imbalance (Teacher/Student)

Sexual Tension

———————————————————————

My sister is not an option. It's your move. Hurry up and make it or else I will be encouraging her to cut off your 'puppy love'.

My eyes scorch over the letter again, irritation and stress weighing on my shoulders the longer I stare at Kankuro's handwriting. I don't like being forced into a corner and that is exactly what he's doing. Trying to threaten a marriage proposal out of me. That's Temari's and my business, not his. Someone needs to teach him to pull his nose out of our business. I'll propose when I feel like it, and I don't. I don't feel like proposing yet...

"Sensei!" My student yells, making me snap my head up. My eyes change course, now scorching the thin tree line separating our campsite from the river. "Sensei!" She yells again, her voice louder this time.

I'm on my feet in a heartbeat, slowly heading toward the tree line. My senses are on high alert, searching for any possible threat. I settle in the shadows caused by one of the thick canopies both hiding us from the sun and enemies alike, giving myself more time to figure out the cause of her calls.

The girl is settled on the bank, her hair still wet from the bath she left to take. A t-shirt hangs off of her, the material easily two or three sizes too big. It hangs low, ending just before her knees. It's Raido's probably, just like the necklace she's been wearing for a straight week.

He retired on Friday, at least from the Hokage Protection branch of the anbus. Raido kept insisting that 'his heart can't take the anbus and his Baby Girl being active duty at the same time'. It's a bull-face lie; everyone knows it is, but watching his daughter break down last month wasn't enjoyable for me. I'm sure it hurt him even more.

So, in the aftermath of the most recent assassination attempt on Kakashi-Sensei's life, Raido stepped down to be a normal Shinobi. With that, his Anbu tags were honorably discharged as well and are currently resting around his daughter's neck, catching the sun's rays as she... I'm not too sure what she's doing.

"Sensei!"

"Stop yelling!" I bark back, reluctantly leaving the shade to head toward the girl, the dying sun shining straight into my eyes. The last year has been a constant reminder of my dislike of children. But, at least she's a good strategist. Having a decent shogi partner is worth the stress having a student brings... most of the time. I don't think this is going to be one of those times.

     "Sorry, Sensei," she mutters, eyes still locked on the water. Her hands are submerged in the river, moving around enough to make ripples in the calmness. At least they are until I'm standing next to her. "Look!" She cheers, standing up and freeing her hands of the stream.

     I slowly blink as I look between her and her hands. The unstable - or possibly straight insane - girl is holding two fish, one in each hand as the small beasts gasp. "How... how'd..." the question sticks in my throat, the confusion being unable to clear up in my mind.

     My student is a lot of things but she is most definitely not a water Shinobi. A swordsman like her father, yes. A skilled sealing shinobi like Iwashi, yes. An amazing marksman like Genma, yes. She needs practice but shows promise to be a Space-Time Shinobi too, yes. A water Shinobi, no.

     "Uncle Iwashi showed me how to use a form of teleportation jutsu to catch fish!" She explains, oozing joy as she shows off the fish she caught. Maybe her Space-Time jutsu isn't as rusty as I thought it was. I'm going to have to do some serious research on that when we get back to the village.

"That's..."

"Great, right?!" She asks, jerking her body back and forth in a little dance, fish in tow. "You tend to catch dinner for us on nights we're stuck in the forest late. Uncle Iwashi said this would work until I get better at using my bow. Then I can hunt game, just like you!"

"Your bow?"

My student looks up at me, her focus pulled away from the scaly animals in her grasp. Her eyes are big and round as she looks at me, the search for approval drowning her doe-like eyes. "Uncle Genma got me a bow for my birthday this year. He said it would help with my marking. I didn't want to tell you until I got better at using it."

The longer she stares at me, the faster my heart beats. A part of me wants to hide those doe eyes, another part of me wants to spend eternity with her looking up at me with this new little fawn expression of hers. The rational part of me wants to lecture her about keeping such information from me. How am I supposed to be a good Sensei if she's hiding the things she's learning? The things she wants to learn?

     "Are you mad?" My student whispers, her body slouching as her eyes widen even more. The wetness of them only adds to the adorable fawn face.

"I'm not mad," I rush out, lunging forward to cup her face. When my head catches up with my movements, I drop my hands, gripping her shoulders instead of her face. "I just... you need to tell me what other things you're learning so... so I can... help." My face hurts, like someone drenched it in oil and lit it on fire. Is this what Hidan felt when I burnt him alive? Doubtful. I hope it was a lot hotter than this.

     "Will do, Sensei!" She cheers, brushing me off before strolling back toward our campsite.

     I stay frozen in my spot for a moment, staring at the empty void my student left in front of me. Her bathing stuff and day clothes are still thrown across the bank of the river; a bad habit of hers. She reminds me so much of myself and yet so much of Naruto.

     A daydreamer just like me yet has the big goal of 'being as good of a kunoichi as Ino-Senpai' similar to Naruto's big goals. An absolute mess of a person just like Naruto, yet hyper-aware of everything all the time just like me. An overly lazy Shinobi who doesn't like doing much just like me, yet is always ready to defend the family she has just like Naruto.

I shake my head to clear the thought out. Partly to clear the image of her perfect fawn face and doe-eyes too. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Maybe because I've never snapped at her. I don't know. What I do know is I need to clean up her mess... and figure out how I'm going to cook the fish for us.

I also know my heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is. Maybe I managed to spook myself when she called for me. I'm sure that's what it is.

———————————

The fawn face did not go away. I repeat, did not go away. My student's expression looks even more gentle in the soft candlelight of our tent; her eyes are even glossier as she stares at the shogi board. I think it's the need for sleep. It's the first time she's accompanied me on an overnight mission, so I went in knowing things would be a bit different. Seeing her tired was going to be one of those things. That has to be what it is, exhaustion... or maybe comfort?

I hope it's comfort... maybe?

I don't know what I hope.

I hope that just this once I'm wrong. That my conclusion of what's going on is wrong. That my exhaustion has messed with my observation and theoretical skills. Because what I'm theoretically feeling is not theoretically improper. It's completely improper. Completely unethical. Completely repulsing. Completely perverted.

"Sensei?"

A long and low exhale is pushed out between my teeth at the sound of my student's soft voice. My eyes glare at the board even harder as I fight with myself not to look up at her. I'm tired. My mind and body are misreading the situation. I need to keep reminding myself of that.

"Sensei?" She calls again, this time pairing her voice with movement. The blanket on her lap ruffles as she leans forward, her slim fingers wrapping around my wrist to tug on it. I shake my head a bit, but my arm doesn't give out, keeping my face propped on my closed fist. "Are you paying attention?"

     My focus jerks away from the playing pieces, zoning in on her face. It's unnatural how gentle her expression looks. What a pretty little Fawn she is. Damp hair, rosy cheeks from our day in the sun, wide doe-eyes with blown-out pupils to make up for the darkness.

My fingers tingle, my chakra buzzing with the want to wrap her up. To make use of all the shadows in the small space. To snuff out the candle so it's just us and the darkness. To slide my carefully crafted jutsu across those soft cheeks of hers and just... Sit. Watch. Enjoy the gentleness of her eyes. No one looks at me like she does.

"Sensei?" She calls again, rougher this time as her fingertips stab into my cheek. Concern has welled in those beautiful eyes, shrinking them just a tad. They flicker back and forth over my face, zoning in and out like they tend to do when she's concentrating. "Are you okay? Your cheeks are all warm."

"It's just a sunburn," I mutter, letting my eyes flutter closed and my head leans into her touch. The pretty fawn smells like green apples and lilacs with just a hint of deer fur. What a lovely sign of my presence...

     "Go to bed!" I yelp, forcing my eyes open and snapping my head back.

     My student jerks away from me, confusion replacing the concern on her face. "I'm... I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"

The tone of her voice feels like an ice pick slamming into my heart. The sudden wetness in those breathtaking eyes doesn't help the ache. "No," I whisper, carefully grabbing her wrist still hovering in the air from cupping my face. My movements are slow and uncertain as I pull her hand closer to me, sliding my fingers up to rest against her palm, my thumb brushing against her knuckles. "Nothing I do is ever your fault. It's important that you know that. Tell me you know that, Namiashi-Chan."

"You're scaring me, Sensei."

My eyes squeeze closed as I yank her hand upward, pressing it against my forehead. I'm just tired and misreading the situation. Tired and misreading. Misreading and tired. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired... but I need you to know nothing I do is your fault. I need you to say it."

"Sensei - "

"Say it!" I yell, tipping my head up to look at her. Regret instantly washes through me, another ice pick poking at my heart. She looks so scared, utterly terrified of me right now. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. You didn't do anything wrong. Sensei is just..." Confused? Disgusted with himself? An adult getting heart flutters over his teenage student? "Tired. Please go to bed, Namiashi."

"Okay," she murmurs, slowly pulling her hand out of my grasp. My chest ices over with the lack of her touch, leaving me with the damn fish flopping in my stomach. Before my student is even on her feet, I'm up and out of the tent, leaving her alone in the shelter.

I need a smoke... and my dad, but only one of those things is possible.

     What the hell do I do in this situation, Dad?

     If you were here you'd force me to be your shogi partner for the night and discuss the situation with me, help me figure out how to handle it all. Maybe I'm just grieving. I'm putting off my proposal and using my student as a distraction because I miss you... maybe. I don't know, Dad. What do I do?

———————————

Half my pack, enough rain that I can't see the end of my nose, and a quarter of my lung coughed out later, I'm sliding back into the tent, praying to whatever God I can find in my time left that Namiashi is asleep. Relief and disappointment mix in my chest when my eyes fall on her sleeping form.

     The little Fawn is curled up in a ball, settled in the center of the cot taking up half the space in the tent. Shinobi tents are light, but not exactly roomie. I shouldn't sleep on the cot. I should sleep on the floor or outside the tent; even better... but it's raining with a chilled breeze brought along with it. I can't sleep outside and I don't have the heart to unroll a blanket from around her.

     I could just not sleep... but that would be even worse. We have a full day of travel tomorrow if I plan to stay on schedule and get back to the village before nightfall. Though... one more night won't hurt...

     One more night would hurt a lot, actually.

Slowly, I let my eyes roll back over the little Fawn. She looks so small like this. Balled up in a mess of blankets, curled into herself, swimming in her father's t-shirt. She's just a baby, barely a year on the job. A quarter younger than me but a good chunk less experienced.

It sickens me, to think about how innocent she is. Thinking about how bad I want to be there for everything. For every mission. For every drop of reality that settles in her being. For every first experience. For every last experience.

     My jaw rotates as I try to shake the thought away. Tired. Misreading. Grieving. That's all it is. Misplaced emotions on a child that looks up to and depends on me. I'm a good man. A good man would stop dwelling on this miscommunication between his heart and his head. I'm a good man.

     ... but not tonight. Just tonight.

     I move slowly around the tent, stripping out of my soaked clothes before changing into a dry pair of pajama shorts. The last thing I need is the little Fawn catching a cold because I came to bed in wet clothes.

Somehow, I move even slower as I crawl into the cot behind her. The little Fawn stirs with the dip of the bed, curling herself tighter as she softly mumbles. Whatever she tries to say doesn't come out solid, only sounding like a string of letters not capable of connecting properly.

     I let myself sink into the bedding, my hands curiously but carefully digging through the blankets the Fawn has wrapped herself in. Shivers race through her body when I find what I'm looking for; her waist. My arms snake themselves around her, securing their spot before tugging my student closer to me.

She fits so perfectly against me, nuzzled up against my torso, a ball of loose hair, blankets, and warm skin. I can't help but squirm closer to her, digging myself further under the blanket fort and pulling her against me until the t-shirt drowning her is the only thing separating my bare chest from her back.

My nose finds a temporary home against her neck, forcing its way through the wild child hair sleep has given my little Fawn. I take slow and deep inhales of her scent, letting the fruity smell drown my senses. The more I drown, the more my hands itch to feel her skin.

It's just for the night. Just tonight. Tomorrow I'll have my head on straight and I'll keep it that way, but not tonight.

A drop of disgust mixes with my bliss as my fingers cling to my student's shirt, inching it upward until her stomach is left bare and I can feel the skin of her back pressed into my chest. The skin of my fingertips buzz as they slide across her, soaking in how warm and smooth she feels against my touch. "My pretty little Fawn," I whisper into her neck, brushing my lips across the delicate skin. "I'm going to propose to Temari next time I see her. That'll keep you safe."

Our tent falls quiet, the only sound coming from our soft breathing and the gentle flick of the candles still lit. Unlike the sounds of the makeshift room, my kisses don't stay gentle. It doesn't take long until I give into another sick want, sucking in a chunk of my little Fawn's neck. My taste buds explode with the taste of her skin, happily lapping it up as I suck more of my presence into her being.

Tomorrow I'll go back to being her Sensei, her shogi partner, a chief of the village she full-heartedly respects. Tonight though, she's nothing more than my Little Fawn and I'm nothing more than a sick man whose heart can't help but ache with my want for her.

———————————

My body feels heavier than usual as sleep slowly escapes my grasp, sliding away from me and being replaced by the sun leaking into my space. Slowly my eyes blink open, the process slowed by nature's natural light.

The more I wake up, the more things my senses become aware of. The sizzling sensation on the side of my neck. The feeling of a hand wrapped around my throat, clinging to it like the person gripping me is terrified I'll vanish if they let go. Warmth wrapped around me; warmth not caused by the blankets I'm under but by the body heat of another person. An arm snug around me, resting across a strip of my bare skin just below my chest. Someone's soft breath tickles my ear as their nose finds comfort buried in my hair.

Fear and confusion lace my veins; feelings I'm trying to wave off to keep my head clear and my thoughts straight. I know it's not Dad, first and foremost because I know he'd never hold me like this, even though we do still co-sleep. He says it's a habit we need to kick now that I'm getting older. Secondly, I'm a good day's worth away from the village.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to keep my senses despite the million scenarios running through my head. If it's not Dad holding me, who is?

From what I can see, everything is exactly how it was last night. The shogi board is still set, waiting for Sensei's next move. The candles are lower from burning all night but still dancing with active flames. None of the tent material seems to be disturbed, at least what of it I can feel.

After another extended trail of relaxing breaths, I decide to face the situation. After all, I can only get so far looking at the same section of the tent over and over again.

I take one more deep breath before willing myself to shift in the person's arms, positioning myself so my back is pressed into the cot instead of my side. The person grumbles, their nose sliding through my hair before it gets loose from my locks. Still, their nose keeps moving, dancing across the small section of my throat not buried under their fingers.

"Hush," they murmur, their lips brushing against my skin, effectively replacing their nose for a beat. The lazy kiss continues, repeatedly painted against the same spot on my neck as their fingers tighten their grip. The harder their touch gets, the less gentle their kisses become until it's not a kiss at all.

My throat is sucked on, a mix of their wet and warm tongue sliding against my skin and a tenser feeling of the sizzling I felt when I first woke up dance over my senses. The feeling seems to drip down my neck, settling between my legs in a weird tingling pressure.

My eyes slowly blink, like it'll help me process the situation. Deep raven hair. Silver stud earrings. Flawlessly pale skin stretched across a soft but bored expression. Half-lidded eyes that are slit with the beauty of a feline. Heat bubbles across my skin as my lungs start to struggle with the knowledge of how to breathe. It's not an intruder or enemy wrapped around me, it's my Sensei.

It's my Sensei clinging to my neck like a lifeline. My Sensei's arm toying with the melt of my chest to my belly. My Sensei kissing up my throat. My Sensei breathing heavier the longer he sucks on my skin.

"Sensei?" I whisper, squirming in his hold with the hopes of loosening the unfamiliar feeling between my knees.

His hand slides down my belly, slow, steady, and only adding to the new sensation. "Shut up, Namiashi. Go back to sleep." Sensei's voice is deep and jagged, still drenched in sleep. At this rate, it seems that anything he does is going to act like gasoline to the flames of my issue.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I... feel off."

Sensei slowly picks his head up, his eyes dripping across my body as he looks down at me. Every inch his attention covers feels like another stream of electricity buzzing across my senses. "You're just horny, Namiashi-Chan. The feeling will go away," he tells me, his hand sliding lower to cup the underside of my knee.

He moves his position, settling himself between my legs, my knee hooked over his shoulder as his body weight presses into me. "I'm sorry." The apology is winded, Sensei's movements stroking the sensa - my horniness.

"Don't apologize. I already told you nothing I do is your fault."

The feeling of his lips teasing the edge of my shorts makes my spine carve, even more fuel to the electricity sizzling in my stomach. "Sensei - "

"Namiashi," he cuts me off, his eyes slit more than usual because of the expression on his face. I can't quite put my finger on the emotion he's feeling at the moment. Fear? Sadness? Disgust? Maybe all three, I don't know. I'm too confused to figure it out. "You're being a drag of a student. A good student listens to their Sensei. You're not listening."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he whispers with his focus back to dotting the hem of my shorts with soft kisses. "Just go back to sleep for Sensei, okay? I'm just going to kiss up on you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[ladydeath-vanserra]

Rural Communities, Illyria, Yt Liberalism/Leftism + Classism

I'm having a hard time putting into words how I feel performative activism and political pandering plays into the way the IC works with Illyria

like

ok so I'm from rural Iowa. I am from a community of people who are prideful and hate handouts. we'd rather break our backs working ourselves into the ground instead of asking for help

now, I am looking at these Illyrians. these close-knit peoples who are prideful and work themselves ragged. As someone from a poor family, in a poor, prideful, relatively 'conservative' area, I can see a lot of similarities between Ilyria and my home. Not so much the rampant wing clipping and violent misogyny, but the pride and stubbornness that gets in our own way (note: misogyny, racism, ableism, etc etc etc are often the results of settler colonialism + yt supremacy. they just don't come out of NOwhere and were/are used as a tool to keep yt rich folks in places of power by causing class divide)

enter Cassian and the IC, people who greatly dislike the Illyrians, who routinely look down on them and call them backwards, uneducated, etc (note: this stereotypical language is due to racist undertones, canonically. This is just from my own perspective as someone from a low class rural area)

Cassian, who somehow has a victim complex due to the systemic problems of Illyria, but also does not actively push for Real Systemic Change outside of making the women Also be warriors, comes into the camps, he brings blankets, small tokens to help aid them and personally, if I saw someone from my home town who had made it very clear of how he actually feels about us try to give us blankets? I would not take a damn thing from him bec which is it? are we just the absolute Worst People Ever or do you feel *sorry* for us. And even if that is not his intention, which I don't think it is at all, he has proven time and again he's "better" than them

Cassian more-or-less scorned the Illyrians, as did Rhys and Azriel, and the more Cassian keeps aligning with Rhys compared to finding solidarity and alliances and progressivism with the Illyrians, the more alienated and isolated he's going to make himself from them

Cassian aligning himself with Rhys and the IC and Velaris and the High Lord's family removed him from the class and community solidarity if his own community. He profits off of the systemic problems that are in place despite having been a victim of the same problems

a lot of the ICs performative actions and pandering towards the Illyrians, just enough to get what they want out of them (bodies for a war), and their inability to push for actual, progressive and real change quite honestly reminds me a lot of the yt liberal and democratic politicians who look down on rural folks and have called us backwards and uneducated and hicks.

The IC hide their own prejudices and bigotry behind a shield of contempt and the systemic problems of the Illyrians, the same way I see from a lot of leftist + yt liberals here in the cities

The Illyrians have very real problematic systemic issues that need addressed and actively changed. And it's very interesting, for me, that the wing clipping and violence towards Illyrian women are so highlighted when violent misogyny seems to be fairly normal/common among the fae, in general, according to SJM, anyways

The way you combat systemic issues is through education, social programs and funding, policy changing, etc

what, exactly, is the IC doing for the people of Illyria outside of small performative gestures and "change takes time"

I see the same social problems of "change takes time" with democratic policies and I look at rural areas, and the Illyrians, who need help NOW. they're people getting routinely abandoned or forgotten unless we're needed for something bec they're "backwards" and "uneducated" and "hicks"

I'm not sure if I'm wording this well, tbh, but it feels very... familiar to what I have experienced living in rural Iowa for most of my life compared with the last few years here in the city

tagging: @bookishfeylin @kateprincessofbluewhales @acotardeservesbetter @ae-neon @andramoreaux

[misc-obeyme]

Bittersweet

I had to write a story about Barbatos in Nightbringer. I love him so much I couldn't possibly stop myself. This is written from MC’s perspective so we still don’t know how much Barb does or does not know about MC’s time travel situation.

MC had an established relationship with Barbatos in the present day, so when they travel back in time and he doesn't know them, they have a hard time with it. Obviously I'm very interested in this particular aspect of Nightbringer. There shouldn't be any spoilers, though.

GN!MC x Barbatos

Warnings: just some angst as described above

The first time you saw Barbatos after arriving in the past, your chest constricted. It was painful to know that you were only a stranger to him now. It occurred to you that he knew more than he let on, but you weren't about to ask him and risk causing a time paradox. So you had to continue acting as though you didn't know him, that you didn't already love him, that you hadn't already spent the best moments of your life in his arms.

You did your best. Most of the time, you were busy keeping track of the brothers and working as their attendant. Your thoughts were mostly occupied by the need to reforge your pacts so that you could return to your own time. So that you could return to the time when he did know you.

You couldn't help yourself, though. You had this need to be near him. So you found yourself sneaking around the Demon Lord's Castle whenever you had a spare moment. You usually only caught a glimpse of him from a distance. It was never enough, but it helped if only a little.

You had been curious about what Barbatos was like here in the past, but so far he seemed almost exactly the same - reserved and completely loyal to Lord Diavolo. Aside from not knowing you, the only other difference was the problem he seemed to have with Solomon.

You had no idea how he felt about you now and most likely you would never know. It wasn't like you could just go ask him. He might not have any opinion at all and maybe he actively disliked you considering you were Solomon's apprentice.

None of this mattered. You just wanted to see him. To be in his proximity. Even if you knew that skulking around the castle made you seem extremely creepy.

You just didn't have a real reason to be at the castle and you didn't feel like you could just drop in to say hi. It wasn't like that anymore… or it wasn't like that yet? You shoved those thoughts aside. Thinking about time travel too much gave you a headache.

So there you were one evening on the castle grounds, trying to hide behind some rose bushes, when you heard a devastating screech right at your feet.

You jumped, nearly falling over.

Little D No 2 was wriggling on the ground. "Ooooww! You stepped on me!"

You reached toward him. "Oh I'm sorry, little guy, I didn't know you were there! Are you okay?"

Little D No 2 managed to straighten himself out. "Maybe watch where you're stepping next time, huh? What are you doing out here in the bushes, anyway? You're acting real suspicious!"

You grimaced. "I know. I'm sorry. I'll leave."

You turned to go, but Little D No 2 tugged on your ankle. "Hey, it's okay! Don't look so sad. Maybe I can help? Are you in trouble or something? Are you hiding?"

"N-no," you said. "I'm not in trouble. Don't worry about it, I'll just leave."

"Now I'm even more suspicious," Little D No 2 said. "I better go get Mr. Barbatos!"

"NO!" you cried out, grabbing him. "No, don't do that, please!"

Little D No 2 kicked his legs in irritation as you were holding him a little bit above the ground now. "Hey! Put me down! You just keep acting weirder and weirder!"

"Listen, I was just passing through, okay?" you said. "I'll just go on home now, so you don't need to go get anyone. I promise I'm not doing anything bad!"

"If that's true, why not just tell me what you're doing then?" Little D No 2 said. "Nobody crouches in bushes if they're just passing through!"

You had to admit that he had a point. You sighed. "I just… wanted to see Barbatos, that's all." You felt the heat rushing into your cheeks.

Little D No 2 stopped kicking his feet. "Huh? But you just said you didn't want me to get Mr. Barbatos. And if you wanted to see him, why didn't you just come in and ask for him? Why creep around the garden?"

"It's complicated," you said.

Little D No 2 opened his mouth, about to say something, but then he looked over your shoulder and started squirming again. "Mr. Barbatos! Help!"

You straightened up and spun around to see Barbatos standing nonchalantly behind you. You dropped Little D No 2 in your surprise.

He yelled, "Oof!" as he hit the ground, then scampered over to hide behind Barbatos.

"Oh um, sorry, I was just leaving," you said quickly, looking around for the best escape route.

Barbatos smiled, but it was not at all reassuring. "Good evening, MC. May I inquire into why you are manhandling Little D No 2 out here in the bushes?"

Oh boy. You might not have been in trouble before, but you certainly were now. You clasped your hands together. "Um… well, it's just…"

"They wanted to see you, Mr. Barbatos!" Little D No 2 piped up helpfully. "But they were being really weird about it!"

Barbatos looked surprised. "Oya. If you wanted to see me, why not come inside the castle?"

"That's what I said!" Little D No said.

"Um," you said, not willing to explain further.

"What is it you need of me?" Barbatos asked.

You couldn't look at him. "That's just it. I don't actually need anything."

There was a long silence. You could feel Barbatos observing you, thoughtful.

Little D No 2 jumped up and down a little. "What! Just when I thought you couldn't get weirder!"

"Little D No 2, please go back inside the castle," Barbatos said.

Little D No 2 saluted as best he could with his little arms. "Yes, sir!"

As he scuttled away, Barbatos continued to look at you with a piercing gaze. "I would like you to explain yourself, please."

What could you say? You couldn't tell him the truth. And this was Barbatos. He would likely be able to tell if you lied to him. Certainly that's already what he was expecting of you. Barbatos was a master at not revealing his thoughts, but you were sure he found you especially suspicious right now.

You frowned, eyes still on the ground, and settled for telling as much of the truth as you could. Even if it made you sound crazy. "I'm sorry," you began. "I wanted to see you because I just… wanted to see you. And I thought it would be a really strange thing for me to show up here saying I just wanted to be with you. I mean, we're basically strangers. But there's just something about you… I…"

You trailed off, unable to say anything more as you felt yourself creeping too close to the truth. You could also feel the burn of your cheeks. You looked up and you knew Barbatos could see your blush even though it was dark out.

Barbatos regarded you quietly for a few agonizing minutes. Then he smiled again. And this time, you felt your heart flutter as you recognized his genuine smile. It was the one you had seen so many times before - equal parts fondness and indulgence.

Having seemingly decided that your garden activities were mostly harmless, Barbatos extended a gloved hand to you. "I see," he said. "In that case, why not join me for a cup of tea?"

Your eyes widened. "Really? You don't mind?"

Barbatos chuckled. "I would not have offered if I did."

You tried not to let the happiness brimming inside you show on your face. You schooled your expression as best you could and took his hand. "I would love to have tea with you."

Barbatos led you into the castle and to a small table set up beside a window overlooking the garden. He let go of your hand and pulled out a chair for you.

The tea was already made. In fact, it looked as though Barbatos had been sitting here drinking it when he noticed you and Little D No 2 out in the bushes. If you had been undisturbed, you probably would have seen him through the window, which was really all you had hoped for. Now you were inside with him and you silently thanked Little D No 2 for getting stepped on.

Barbatos left you for a moment and then returned with a second tea cup. He poured some for you and handed it over.

"You were having tea by yourself?" you asked, taking a sip.

"The Young Master is working, as he should be," Barbatos said. "And I had a moment to take a short break."

"You always seem to be busy," you said. "You don't take breaks like this very often, do you?"

You already knew the answer to this, but you had to make it sound like you didn't know Barbatos as well as you did. You wondered again if Barbatos was actually fully aware that you were from the future. If anyone in the past did, it would be him. Still it wasn't as though you could ask him. It was just too risky. So you did your best to make it sound like you really had just met him recently.

"There is always more to be done and I would rather be productive than idle," Barbatos said.

Well, there was no doubt that Barbatos was the same in the past as he was in the future. Other than his inexplicable hatred for Solomon, he was the same demon you knew and loved. This made it both easier and harder to be around him.

"You're really okay with me being here?" you asked. "You know, since I'm Solomon's apprentice and all… I know you aren't particularly fond of him."

Barbatos laughed softly. "I don't hold it against you," he said. "You are not responsible for your teacher's actions."

You smiled in relief. Then you started asking him questions about tea and the Devildom just so you could listen to the steady cadence of his voice. You felt yourself lulled into a sense of ease, the same feeling of contentment that caused you to fall in love with him in the first place.

It had already been evening when you were discovered in the bushes and soon it was even later. Barbatos looked at you pointedly. "It's rather late, MC. Certainly you should return to Cocytus Hall before your teacher comes looking for you."

"Oh," you said, looking at the time. "It's later than I thought. Yeah, I guess I should go."

You stood up from the table, which Barbatos had already cleared of the tea things, and made your way back toward the castle entrance.

You paused at the door and Barbatos stood beside you, watching you.

You looked at him, wanting to say so many things, but holding it all inside. Trying to keep those words in your heart made your chest squeeze with pain. If you weren't careful, you would give yourself away. You looked back at the door.

"Thank you, Barbatos," you said, eyes on the ground. "This was really nice and I appreciate you inviting me in after I was being so weird earlier."

Barbatos reached out, put his fingertips beneath your chin, and turned your face so you were looking at him. "You said before that there is something about me, but there is something about you, too. I will be honest, MC. I am interested in learning more about you, even if you are apprenticed to that disgrace of a sorcerer."

You were too overwhelmed by Barbatos's close proximity to laugh at the way he casually insulted Solomon. "Oh, then maybe we can have tea together again?" you suggested.

Barbatos smiled, letting his hand fall away from your face. "I would enjoy that immensely." He opened the door for you.

You stepped outside then looked back at him. He was still smiling, that genuine smile that gave you butterflies. "Good night, MC," he said.

"Good night, Barbatos," you said. You turned away as the door closed, walking fast through the Devildom night toward Cocytus Hall. Your heart was racing. It didn't matter when you encountered him, you knew Barbatos would always have this effect on you. Even if he didn't know you. Even if you had to keep secrets from him. Even if now this feeling was bittersweet.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hey bestie! Oh my god I saw you’re taking requests for Wednesday, sooo I was wondering if you could write a Wednesday x reader where r is enid’s sibling, maybe they keep ‘bothering’ wednesday with smalltalk, chatting, etc (basically, they’re down bad but even they don’t know it) until enid basically tells them they need to ask her out or she’ll tell Wednesday for them. Thank you so so much, sorry if this sounds insane it’s literally 1 am and I need sleep. Anyway, have a fabulous day!

The way I literally ran to my drafts so I could get started working on this asap- you always have such good ideas, thank you for sending this in ily ❣❣

The Other Sinclair (Wednesday Addams x reader)

Warnings: reader is a huge simp, Enid is the perfect wingman (wingwolf? Is that even a thing?), Wednesday is oddly sentimental, basically you're all just huge dorks

As soon as Wednesday found out Enid had a sibling she knew there was no way she'd ever get peace again.

To say you were bothersome was an understatement. Often times Wednesday wished you and your sister weren't so close, because maybe then you wouldn't constantly be hanging around when it was least welcomed (which, Wednesday being Wednesday, was pretty much all the time).

You would visit her every single day, bringing your constant cheerfulness with you as though it was the only thing keeping you alive. Wednesday saw it to be quite the opposite; the mere thought of you and your never fading smile was enough to make her hair stand on end while she broke out in a cold sweat, and not in a good way.

The only times she got any peace was when Enid decided to leave and visit you in your room instead. In fact, it was during one of those very visits that she spoke to you about something you'd been cleverly hiding for quite some time: the crush you had on Wednesday. Although if we're being completely honest here, you clearly didn't hide it as well as you thought if Enid knew about it.

"Come on, you have to tell her!" Enid insisted, trying her best to convince you.

"There's no way that's ever going to happen," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wednesday actively dislikes everyone, and I'm no different from the rest of them."

"I simply refuse to believe that's true. I mean, come on, the way she looks at you-"

"-is with the same glare that she gives everyone else. Face it, Enid, Wednesday wants nothing to do with me."

"If she wanted nothing to do with you, then she would have verbally eviscerated you a long time ago. I know that's what she did to me," Enid mumbled under her breath. "You'll never know until you ask. Plus, if you don't fess up and admit your feelings, I'm just gonna go ahead and tell her myself, so..."

"Wha-? Enid, you can't do that!" You all but screech, grabbing ahold of her shoulders in an effort to both convince her otherwise and ground yourself.

"Look, I don't want it to have to come to that, but I will if I have to. Now, promise me you'll talk to Wednesday as soon as we get back." Enid raised her eyebrows at you, almost in a threatening manner.

"Okay, fine," you conceded, letting go of her. "I'll give it a shot."

"Wonderful!" Your sister joyfully cried out, clapping her hands together swiftly while jumping up and down. "Now, let's work on what you're going to say."

Meanwhile, back in Ophelia Hall, Wednesday was experiencing an intense session of writer's block. As much as she wanted to be writing, she couldn't help but wonder what you were doing instead.

She didn't understand it; the hold you had on her was unnatural, but not necessarily uninviting. She often found herself thinking about the way you laughed whenever Enid told one of her horrible jokes, and how you always greeted Thing whenever you arrived.

Not to mention you always asked how her day was, even if you knew the answer was going to be something along the lines of 'pure torture'. In fact, any time you bumped into her on Nevermore's campus you actually looked happy to see her, and were never polite simply for the sake of it.

Wednesday was beginning to feel things she'd never felt before, and it made her quite unsure of herself. And if there was one thing Wednesday hated, it was being unsure of herself.

Could it be... was this love?

She'd heard other people talk about it- how their hands would get abnormally sweaty and they'd begin to suffer from heart palpitations- but she'd never felt it first hand, and it was a rather strange feeling that was quite difficult for her to place as she had never experienced it before.

Even after having it described to her by her parents about how they fell in love at a young age multiple times, she still had no idea just how it happened and what it felt like. In fact, if anything, having heard of Morticia and Gomez's own romantic romps from their youth did nothing but further confirm what Wednesday was quite certain of: falling in love was nothing but a gigantic waste of time.

And yet, there she was; she could practically feel her pulse quicken by the second at the mere thought of you.

Just then, the door opened, and in skipped Enid, with you in tow. You weren't feeling like your usual cheery self at that moment, and you were certain you couldn't be looking like it either.

"Heya, Wednesday!" Enid delightfully greeted the blank faced girl, who's attention was focused solely on you instead. "My dear sibling here has something they'd like to say to you."

She nudged you with her elbow and gestured towards Wednesday. "Well, go on," she whispered.

The braided brunette raised her eyebrow at your sudden shyness. It usually took her ages to get you to shut up, so this complete 180 in attitude was a shock.

"Um..." you started rather awkwardly. "Well, you see, I- I've liked you for quite some time now, and was just wondering if... if maybe you'd like to accompany me to The Weathervane? This weekend, perhaps?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "I- I completely understand if it's a no, I mean, it is on such short notice-"

"Yes," Wednesday stated as soon as she noticed the hesitation begin to creep through your voice. "I'd like that."

"I- really?" You couldn't hide your excitement at her response, not that you wanted to.

"Of course. If I didn't, I would have said so," she replied curtly. "I expect you to pick me up at 3 pm sharp, and don't be late."

"I- okay," you immediately agreed, a little stunned by her answer. "I'll see you then."

She nodded swiftly before turning her attention back to her typewriter. You turned around to see Enid standing there with the biggest grin you'd ever seen on her, her arms opened wide.

You let her pull you in for a tight hug, embracing her happily. "I can't believe that worked! I mean, she said yes! She actually said yes! We're finally going out, and it's gonna happen this Saturday!"

"I know! I'm so happy for you!" Enid squealed, wrapping her arms around you even tighter. Because you were so preoccupied with your own excitement, you both failed to notice the faintest smirk that had crept its way onto Wednesday's face.

Main masterlist | Wednesday masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry

[sagesilentfire]

Autistic Toffee, thoughts?

I mean I did make this image:

But yeah, he's super fucking autistic. Like me. Canonically: (warning: references to self-harm and also oversharing my weird experiences as a chronic autism-haver)

Gets social skills enough to be manipulative about it and understand what people will do, does not get them enough to not creep out people who already are looking for an excuse to dislike him.

Like every behavior the creators gave him to make him creepy and evil just read as autistic person trying to mask to me.

Cold and emotionless? Bro has a flat affect and it just clashes with the overemotional rest of the show.

Low empathy? Autistic, and he does have his own kind of empathy, he just, like a lot of autistic people, expresses it weirdly. And seriously, the idea that a) Normative, neurotypical empathy is the only sign of good moral character and b) that Toffee lacks any version of empathy in general because he doesn't seem to care when unjust rulers or bootlicking toadies get their due, is really ableist and can go die now.

Monotone voice? Flat affect, and probably over-correcting on controlling his tone of voice too. Remember he's in Socialization Mode every time we see him, or Dealing With Mewmans Mode, which is even more tense. I bet he can and will emote via voice when alone or with people he trusts. Heck, he does it in Meteora's Lesson, when he's with the other septarians.

Ulterior motives? When you're autistic, you know that everyone has ulterior motives you can't hope to understand, including other autistic people. It's fine.

I actually headcanon he's repressed a lot of his sensory issues. I have a few that are really annoying, but I don't have another option if I want to appear in polite society and have to force myself to live with them even though they make me want to vomit, so I can see him actively choosing to repress emotional reactions to things. 

He gets overwhelmed more often than you'd expect. People just don't notice, because his reaction is always to freeze up and go silent – a shutdown, the "flight and/or freeze" part of the autistic experience. This is from my own personal experience: when overwhelmed I'm either yelling and angry (around people I know and trust enough to get mad at without them hurting me) or hiding and silently self-harming (around people I don't know or trust). (When I get overwhelmed in a place I feel comfortable but don't know anyone there, I tend to get weird in public looking for someone to feel less bad with. We don't talk about those times.)

I think he was close to a shutdown during Mewnipendence Day when he saw that stupid play Star put on.

Definitely doing a shutdown after he couldn't rescue Star. Probably exiting the scene as fast as possible to go pull out some scales (fun, risk-free self-harm! warning: only septarians can do this. you will bleed if you don't have a healing factor. be safe and maybe don't self--harm it's bad for you), grit his teeth, and go find a way to rescue Star. And also send an army to take over Butterfly Castle while the wand was out. Star would be alive to learn to live with not being a princess. 

Doesn't *always* know what to say. Can convince people to do things easily, but has no idea how to help other people with their emotions. His autistic ass could never be a therapist.

And then there's SAMATFOE Toffee, who has some extra Problems:

Sílthéy and Toffee work together to ensure that Toffee is as immune as possible to emotional leverage. Do anything to them, especially when they're in Business Mode, and Toffee will just sigh, shake their head, and refuse to take the bait. They may have PTSD and Autism, but have you considered: they also have severe emotional repression!

However, when they do crack, it's really bad, and potentially really dangerous. They still freeze and flee, but due to... circumstances, they could be as much of a magical superweapon as the wand, but in a completely uncontrollable way. Unlike the Butterflys, they do not make a habit of flirting with destroying the world, so instead they shove down their feelings and get their ass to therapy. 

And then when their therapist advocates for expressing their emotions healthily, they go get a new therapist, probably a cognitive behavioral therapist or something (I'm JOKING, CBT works for people who are not me! It's a perfectly fine method of brain-helping, it's just my default punching bag. I'm more of an Internal Family Systems guy myself). 

Rasticore is a big help. He helps them express medium amounts of emotion healthily and without having a complete (magi-nuclear) meltdown. They help him with his own meltdowns, because everyone is autistic in my world except for Mina. Rasticore finds their calm grounding. 

[daemon-in-my-head]

Sorry, one maybe final datv post cuz I can't get it out of my head, spoilers for Emmrich and lore regarding Nevarra, Mortalitasi and the Mourn Watchers but uh I have a shit ton of questions actually BioWare. What the fuck is going on with the Mourn Watch?

Is the Mourn Watch secretly ruling fucking Nevarra?

Emmrich, baby, sweety, honey, darling, did you just outright admit that King Markus isn't simply old and accompanied by disliked Mortalitasi advisors but that he's actually undead and actively being puppeteered by the mage order you're also part of?

And did you also just ask Lucanis to stop accepting contracts for King Markus cuz 27 or so are enough and you're actively running out of excuses as for why he's still alive and the crows continue to fail? Did you really just ask Lucanis as a friend, coworker and Spites kindergarten teacher to please stop endangering the Watchers coup d'etat?

Is Neverra okay? You guys know your Mortalitasi have noble blood ties, right? Are the fucking Watchers trying to take over the government entirely by utilising their own and some unaffiliated Mortalitasi? What exactly was Johanna attempting to do cuz as a Mortalitasi and Watcher herself she should fucking know what's going on with Nevarras King and Government, or the lack thereof? You pretty much already reigned over Nevarra, why go out of your way to craft the XXL undead? Some political divide within the ranks of the Mortalitasis and Watchers? Did Johanna want for them to stop the shadow shit and just come out nd declare herself or her groups the new ruling body?

What the fucks going on here? I mean great for them I guess, they're still better than let's say Venatori and the Magisters from all we know but uh, babes yk you're not as clean as yall claim, right? Right?

Also why the fuck is Rook so excited about learning that their order essentially controls the highest instance of government in their homeland? How much was Rook actually involved in that and what the fuck was the infamous uprising rly about cuz a Baron instigating an undead uprising alongside a puppeteered undead King?

What the fuck is actually happening in Nevarra, the Necropolis and what was the correspondence he was trying to write really about?

I mean it's great we established that all death mages are part of the Mortalitasi but not all Mortalitasi also belong to the Mourn Watch. But what the fuck is the Watch actually doing and how politically involved are they really because it sure as fuck sounds like they secretly rule Nevarra and also while we're at it, why do Reapers sound exactly like Reavers, yk, the warrior specialisation that can actually tap into blood magic to some degree and why do a lot of famous Mortalitasi and Watchers know and perform blood magic rituals?

Or in other words; why does the Mourn Watch sound like a group of exceptionally skilled individuals who also all happen to perform blood magic and very intricate rites which also just so happens to have the absolute authority on all matters corpses and all funerary rights alongside an endless supply of said corpses while also ruling an entire country by means of a puppet monarch as they hide within an impenetrable fortress guarded by not only constantly shifting rooms but also an army of undead that they acknowledge are used for defence?

And why isn't the Mourn Watch an antagonistic force cuz they sure as hell don't seem that nice upon closer inspection and they would actually serve as a pretty incredible threat? Like thinking about it they're what the Venatori or Evanuris want to be when they grow up?

Also the Lich Lord Counsil? The entire Mourn Watch being ruled by incredibly strong, immortal mages?

I need answers.

Also I will sure as fuck be using this to expand my canon defying bg3 bullshit further. The Bhaalists already sounded pretty damn close to what the Mourn Watch is doing but uh, don't mind if I do.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi, I hope you are safe and sound

I've been meaning to ask you a question about asexuality but was afraid it would be too personal. Your recent post is about, so I guess it's ok to ask, but if not, feel free to skip

I'm still young enough, going through my university years, but I've never felt attraction towards anyone. Even as a teenager at school. (Now, I'm not even sure if I can love anyone as a partner) Though I like reading romantic stories and do understand when a person is 'attractive' or not. So, the question is how/when did you understand that you are asexual and do you have any tips perhaps? It's just so upsetting for me to feel pressure from not only society but also my parents who expect me to find a lover and have a family

Hello! Oh, please don't worry, I don't mind any kind of personal questions as long as they are not deliberately offensive!

Asexuality means a lack of sexual attraction to anyone, but there is such thing as aesthetic attraction, meaning that you find some people aesthetically pleasing, very beautiful, etc. From what you said, you might be referring to it. Asexuals are perfectly capable of evaluating the general attractiveness of a person and they might even have their preferred ideal of beauty.

In my case: for a long time, I was confused because I felt aesthetic attraction., and like, I adored reading and writing and watching romance stories. It's my favorite genre. All of this made me think that I’m bisexual, and I identified as such. But even when I admired a person’s beauty, it was more like admiring a painting. I felt no desire to do anything sexual with them (or anything romantic). When I saw a great character, I wanted to ship them with someone instead of seeing myself with them.

When I read about asexuality, something finally clicked, and I was thrilled with understanding who I am. I never doubted it since I found my label around 23, and I knew at that point that I’m just not attracted to people, neither romantically nor sexually. If you live that long and you never experience what other people do, to me, it's a clear indication that you're different in some way. I was excited to find the source of this difference.

The most important thing is what and how you feel. You can find a definition that describes you best and makes you feel comfortable; you can change your mind later. Many people dislike labels in general; I felt pleased when I found one, but we all have different experiences. Just try not to push yourself into something you don’t want or don’t like. Even if others don’t respect your sexuality/preferences, respect them yourself and I think (and hope) that you’ll be happy.  

I understand about feeling pressure, and I'm sorry. I wish I knew what to say here. My immediate family is very supportive, but everyone else is often annoying. I’ve never dated anyone, I never felt romantic or sexual interest to anyone; I had my first kiss + sex out of curiosity when I was 22, and it didn’t change anything in me - it was just a weird, very mechanical activity. But my friends and most of my relatives still say stuff like, “Oh, honey, you just haven’t met the right person yet! Have you tried therapy? I hope this year, you’ll find the love of your life! Would you like me to set you up with my friend?” My Mom tried to explain to her co-workers why I don’t plan on getting married, and they all refuse to accept that asexuality exists. They think I must be hiding some trauma. This is extremely offensive and infuriating. 

Sexuality is a part of who you are. I try to make people around me understand it, but they just blink at me in confusion. I ask heterosexual folks, “Why are you so sure you are straight? Maybe you just haven’t find the right man/woman.” When my aunt wished me to find a partner for the 100th time, I waited for her birthday and wished her to become a surgeon (she never had any relation or interest in medicine). She seemed to understand something, but a few months later, we were back to where we started. Still, maybe something like this could help you?

I'm comfortable and happy with myself, so while other people are a source of occasional frustration, their opinions don't really affect me.

I don't know how aggravating your situation is or might get, so the only thing I can say is that I hope you remember that your happiness with yourself matters most. You might figure out what label fits you best, you might start/keep changing them - as long as you’re comfortable with who you are, it’s all fine!

[boyfhee]

· BELLADONNA · lee heeseung

SYNOPSIS · sometimes, love is not about the sacrifices you make, but about the selfishness you hide.

GENRE · thriller, historical

WORD COUNT · 5k

WARNINGS · slight mentions of drugs and alcohol, slight implications of sexual activity ( not between the main characters ) graphic descriptions of injuries and associated weapons, blood, descriptions of graphic acts of violence, descriptions of a person in a very bad state. over all, this could be disturbing to some extent so please watch out before reading.

NOTE · thought i was slaying with this but i got sleepy and idk what happened in the middle, you're on your own. for @koishua's there were two collab i am literally so embarrassed fr bff idk what's ab to come, the style part of my writing yeeted itself somewhere in between i have no recollection of what happens in the middle . vie i apologise in advance. OK A FEW THINGS BYR :

don't trust me on the history here. i don't know when atropa belladonna was introduced in korea, google doesn't help. just know, it isn't native to east asia

the clans mentioned here are real though none of them reigned in the timeline this fic is set in ( since monarchy ended in korea after the end of Japanese occupation, please correct me if i'm wrong ) so, every character here is rather a descendant than a ruling figure. moreover, i don't know if lee heeseung is from jeonju lee clan or not so please do not rely on my information

atropa belladonna is toxic and contains neurotoxic alkaloids. no it was never given to pregnant women ( it's dangerous ) the severeness of this drug is heavily ignored and watered down in this fic. do no associate with the plant / drug irl

the wedding 'dress' here refers to a hanbok

THIS IS FICTION ! DONT RELY ON THE INFO HERE im saying half of it is wrong

“The best thing about being identical twins,”— Ah-young hands over her school bag to you, carefully stepping across the short trail of bush that ran along the length of the roads inside the public tutoring house— “we can switch places and no one would ever know.” 

PRESENT DAY, 1951

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t Ah-young be the one trying this?” 

“She’s trying on another dress,” Your caretaker hissed. “It’ll suit her if it suits you. You both look the same, anyway,” The first time you met her was when you and your sister were five, in the yard, picking tangerines for your mother— Madame Bella, as people called her.  

Belladonna, ‘beautiful woman’ in Italian, refers to a common cosmetic practice during the Renaissance, in which women used the plant to dilate their pupils, making their eyes look bigger. However, the name popularised in Myeongryebang in the late eighteenth century, originally assigned to women with bewitching beauty, who were known to be blessed by the Gods on the day of their birth. Atropa Belladonna, a plant introduced in Korea in the early sixteenth century, deemed illegal and marketed at a high price for those who desired it’s captivating effect, was taken and prepared into a syrup to be given in drops to women with milk in the first three months of her pregnancy, in hopes that she would give birth to beautiful children, and the bloodline will be graced by beauty for generations to come. 

Its plant was grown by the previous Lady of your house— the Belladonna Residency— who was known for her blinding attractiveness. As time passed, legend dissolved along with other historical practices, leaving behind a few of those who continued to believe, your great grandmother being one of them. And on a full moon night, with nightshade in its full bloom, your mother was born. 

“Oh, Miss Ko, I’ll take these two,” Ah-young stepped outside from her room, handing the dresses to your caretaker.“I can’t believe I’m getting married already,”

“Right, it feels like just yesterday you asked me to attend History lessons in your place because you disliked the teacher,” She sits next to you on your bed in her chemise, not caring enough to put on a shawl even during the peak of winters. 

One of the earliest memories you have with your twin sister is about the two of you attending lessons in place of each other. Ah-young filled in for your piano lessons while you did the same for History. A sense of pride followed the two of you around every time you successfully fooled your tutors under your father’s nose. Perhaps, it’s the gift of being identical— to be present and yet, be completely invisible. To win games and lodge fear in your younger cousins was the best use you both make of your striking familiarities. Amusement drizzled through your eyes every time you and Ah-young came up with another childish trick, although it didn’t last longer than when you both turned ten and met Heeseung. 

She takes your hand. “I wanted you to get married first, Yn,” 

Ah-young, meaning, grace and kindness. 

“Why?” 

“It’s scary. I’ve seen how it was for mother. So, I wanted to get married after you, for you have always been the braver one,” Your mother’s name was Sang-hee, who was married to the one of the most influential jewel merchants— your father. Sang-hee, benevolence and pleasure, that’s what her name means. They say, the meaning that a person’s name holds reflects upon their life. Names are not just words to distinguish an individual from the other, but rather, they define the person for who they are, and what they will become in life. From your maternal grandmother, Min Hei-ran from the Yoheung Min Clan, to your father, Kim Yong-san, who is a descendant of Gwangsan Kim Clan, everyone has a few things common in them— versatility, grace, wealth, desire. 

Names are for people just the way colours are for paintings. 

“But now, I have Heeseung,” The frown of her face morphs into a gleeful smile. “I’m not scared anymore,” The earliest memory you have of envy and regrets was when you were ten, and when Ah-young brought Heeseung home to introduce him to you and consequently, the whole family. 

Coming from Jeonju Lee Clan, or more appropriately, one of the descendants of the same, you knew Heeseung would hold an important place in your household. Your father focuses on establishing secure connections with prominent families while your mother, well, Miss Ko— who your father married when you and Ah-young were eight, after your birth mother hung herself from the cherry tree that faced your shared bedroom with your sister— pursued an unwavering goal of acquiring wealth and exploiting luxuries after becoming the Lady of the Belladonna Residence. Heeseung, though for you, was a ray of hope. 

Not a day was spent without you intoxicating your blood with regrets of skipping piano lessons and making Ah-young take those for you. The reason could be anywhere between not wanting to trim your perfectly manicured nails, and the fear of facing failure after knowing that your hands were nowhere as swift as hers when they danced on the keys, to the very melodies they produced. In a letter shared with your grandmother after your mother’s death, she quoted, ‘A noble blood shall bleed like one,’ Eight year old you didn’t understand the weight of those words, but thirteen year old did then you saw Miss Ko, the woman who had claimed to love your father dearly, bring drunken men into her bedroom on nights your father didn’t come home for the sake of business. The fruits of Belladonna are poisonous, presumably deadly. The tree withstands the changing of seasons, from harsh monsoon winds to calloused winter streams laced with snow. Every leaf plucked and every scar that wounds the trunk, a heart so determined to protect what belongs to it, a poison that takes life from the ones who dare ingest it raw. 

The tree is old but it never weakened. Your mother died wearing the royal hanbok that was passed down through generations by newlywed women, hiding the scars on her skin that tell tales of every moment that she spend being mistreated by your father, for a noble blood shall bleed like one, your mother never hung her head low even after a war she lost. 

“Why do you love Ah-young?” It’s a question that ought to be asked long ago, when you had first heard about their relationship. Heeseung has been the man of every woman’s dream, the ideal son-in-law for every mother with a daughter. Yet, fate guided him towards the Belladonna tree in your backyard in the middle of the night, and you knew he’s the one you’d need. Despite meeting Ah-young first, you and him were closer than any other companions you have had. He would walk you around his estate, tell you about the distant seas you’ve only heard of in stories, of the girls that chimed around him and how it makes your skin itch with disgust, because no one deserved him more than you. If so, then why her. 

“She’s beautiful,” He responded almost immediately. 

“Does that mean you love me too?” And words fell off your mouth involuntarily. Maybe because you’ve been keeping them in for so long, this was bound to happen someday. “We look the same,” 

A pause. He took a sharp breath in, averting his eyes away from you. It felt like ignorance at first, as if he’s avoiding your words, suppressing an urge to tell you how gauche they sound. The unsophisticated behaviour didn’t suit you, but every memory you share with him resurfaces every time the picture of him and Ah-young at the temple crosses your mind. Envying your sister is new, for you have always received the same things— clothes, toys, jewelries, footwears, anything materialistically possible. Neither of you have lived a life much different from each other. Seeing Ah-young has always been like seeing yourself, living with yourself, watching yourself do things in a different fashion. It has been as if you’ve been living your life with two different perspectives, but watching her with Heeseung felt foreign, like some parasite has taken your place and is living as if it belongs to her. But you can’t show it, so you continued with a chuckle, “I’m kidding,” 

“I think it’s the colours,” You realised later that what you’ve been thinking of as sheer ignorance was actually hesitation. “Red suits her more,” He added, fingers fiddling over his engagement ring. “as for you, white has always been your colour,” 

You’ve been thinking about white and red since that day. 

Day and night, awake and while sleeping, eating, bathing; his words have been plaguing your mind ever since you had that conversation with him. ‘Red suits her more,’ it rings in your ear like the sinister cawing of a crow. ‘White has always been your colour,’ it comes off as the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. You remember him ordering cherry topped desserts every time you both ate out, the reason being, cherries are his favourite fruit and red happens to be his favourite colour. Heeseung tells you about his preferences and you hear his talk as if they’re your own, and with every ounce of information that you learn about him, a new you is born. You never liked red but started wearing it more around him, red lipstick for the evening you were supposed to tell him your feelings before he sent a messenger notifying you that he wouldn’t be able to come. You wouldn’t have minded being disrespected if he hadn’t gone to the academy to visit your sister and congratulate her with red roses for winning the debate.   

You rush to her room and shut the door the moment she steps out to finalise a few things regarding the wedding. You take her wedding dress out from the cupboard, there’s jealousy oozing through the cracks on your skin, fingertips leaving prints of greed all over the silk fabric as you stand in front of the mirror, one hand holding it in front of you while the other brushes over it’s soft creases, admiring it’s heavenly look. You’re picturing yourself in the attire, next to your Heeseung, celebrating your day, just like it was supposed to be from the beginning. Sisters for life, what everyone taught you both as children. ‘Because your sister is your biggest fear and your greatest weapon, treat her with tenderness,’ quoted your grandmother. But you’ve attended all the history lessons for her; and the lesson of History is that no one ever learns. 

Your eyes traverse between the dress and the image of you in the mirror, heart sighing with admiration that screamed of wanting more. A smile makes it way up your lips, fingers wrapping tighter around the hem of your dress— a promise you make with the silk, to never let go. You twirl around, the image of you in that dress next to Heeseung getting clearer and clearer in your mind. You’ve spent your childhood playing into each other’s roles. You know it in your blood, the foot she steps forward first while walking, the turn she sleeps, the style she dances, the pattern she breathes. Your eyes land upon a photo frame of her and Heeseung from the day of their engagement. A sharp breath in, you straighten your back, mimicking her pose from the picture, a soft sigh out; sometimes, you think you are more like Ah-young than she, herself, could ever be. 

“What are you doing?” The door flies open, your blood runs cold. The sight of your sister has never been so frightening. 

Ah-young has been all about sharing, from elite delicacies to credits for things you didn’t even help her enough with, to reach the finished product. To think, she gets more of her traits from your aunt. You don’t remember your mother being much of a saint, except when it came to her daughters. You remember her cradling you in her lap on nights neither of you could sleep. While most of the mothers would recite tales of fairies and land of sweets, your mother told you about the horrendous acts of people, the traps set by family members, about how trust is nothing but giving someone the power over yourself. She’d warn you about the horrors of the nights, the limits that men would cross to strip a woman off her dignity, the acts your best companion would exhibit behind your back to step over you. She would teach you of ways you could secure your position in the hierarchy— 

“Oh, well, I was seeing how I’d look in a wedding dress,” —and of ways you could acquire what if yours, and if, for some reason, you’re unable to find one, she’d teach you to make one. 

“You would not look much different from me,” She mumbles up close, standing right behind you and holding you steady by your shoulder with one hand while the other lifts up your chin to face the mirror. “Just as pretty,” 

“I love how dreamy it looks,” She takes the dress from your hand, putting it around herself and twirls like a toddler. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, eyes glistening with all the happiness the world could offer to the mortals. Her words talk about her content with the dress and how perfect it looks, while your mind paints a picture of Ah-young standing next to Heeseung on your wedding day, and you know she’s trying to steal him from you just as she has always done. “The design, patterns, and such fine work of embroidery. Don’t you think so?” 

You walk to the drawer behind her. “Yes, it’s spellbindingly beautiful,” 

“I’ve always thought white of as an empty colour, it doesn’t quite fit me. But wearing this, I look pretty,” Every passing second erodes the patience you’ve been keeping in for years. Her voice stings in your ears, making you feel like they’d bleed out of pain. She looks at herself in the mirror, the smile never leaving her face, saccharine words of love leaving her mouth relentlessly; you want to shut her up. A knife from the kitchen would do the work, you can slice off her tongue, or take the embroidery box from her bedside table and sew the mouth with nylon. Your breath gets faster, shallower than it was, ears begging you to stop her from talking further, but she doesn’t shut up. You pick up the flower vase. “White must really suit me!” 

And the next second, she’s on the floor, succumbing to unconsciousness while looking at you with eyes that call for help, despite knowing what you did. Her eyes shut close, silence takes over the room, you stand still with the flower vase in your hand. A part of you feels content, she’s gone, while the other fears the reality of being caught. You consider running away, but her words ring inside your head like a tinnitus, making it unable for you to think straight. And so, you drag her unconscious body under your bed, wiping the droplets of blood from the wooden floor with acetone, hoping it would go away. But the voices compel you to go further. 

You snatch the dress out of her grip before kicking her under the bed. “White has always been my colour.” 

A part of you hopes she never wakes up, for this is your chance. Another part of you wants her to be alright, because you wouldn’t be able to answer if someone asked for the two of you together. Though, the voice tells you to keep going— kill her, throw her, burn her, all sorts of things that have never crossed your mind in any situation. You could go, grab water and help her wake up, but the picture of you and Heeseng appears before your eyes, and suddenly you want her gone. 

“Your sister is not coming down for dinner?” Miss Ko asks when only you show up for dinner instead of the two of you. She has been working for the Residence for years but still hasn't learnt how to distinguish between the two of you. She has been looking after the two of you ever since you both were four but, there hasn’t been one day where she actually cared about you and your sister. Ko’s goal was to earn as much as she could, to live a lavish life, and she would go beyond extents if it means she could get what she dreams for. Maybe, it’s another reason why you’ve always found her similar to yourself. 

“She’s not hungry as of now,” You reply with a smile, a smile that otherwise dances on Ah-young’s face. “I’ll take her food upstairs,” A part of you wants to poison her dinner, easiest of all methods. Or maybe, you should melt her face with concentrated acids to create disfigurements and throw her by the city outskirts so that no one suspects who she actually is. You can stab her and hire guards who would feed her to hungry wolves and vultures. There are a number of other ways, burying her in your backyard and making it seem like she ran away— you ran away, because from today onwards, you were going to live as her, for her identity is all you need to make Heeseung yours.                                              

“Ah-young, I have brought you dinner!” Your voice sounds cynically sweet, words laced with deadly adoration, hoping to see your sister, but the place where you left her remains empty. You pause, fingers gripping the diner plate firmly. “My lovely sister, you never learn, do yo—” And a strike from behind you sends you to the floor, pain radiating from the site of injury to your entire head. You turn your head around, your sister stands with her jewellery box in her hands, shaking with fear. Your hands are covered with the dinner you brought her, and now you wish they were coloured in her blood. 

“Yn,” She crouches in front of you, putting the jewellery box aside, taking your face in her hands. “This is not you,” And listening to her talk like she actually knew you made your blood boil, so you grab her neck, holding her down to the floor, watching her tap your hands to let go while struggling to breathe, with a smile on your face. Her face turns pale, eyes shutting close before you let go, loosening the grip around her throat. 

“No, this is you,” You brush strands of hairs off her face, hovering over the frightened figure that struggled and coughed to breath. “I am you, Ah-young, the one who’s getting married tomorrow,” A sinister touch graces your words, a smile that keeps growing wider with every sob that chokes out of her mouth. There’s an odd sense of satisfaction in the way she begs for her life, as if the Heavens are making her pay for stealing what belonged to someone else, and you wish you could relive this moment for as long as you wanted. 

Her hand reaches out for yours. “Why are you doing this?” She cries out. 

“Right, why do I have to do this?” And you sit back, pretending to think of reasons to justify your actions, although there is only one explanation: Heeseung, and you continue, “I am pretty. I have no reason to be jealous of you,” 

“We’re literally the same,” Somehow, she manages to draw a chuckle out of her, attempting to pull herself up and sit straight. You’ve come to despise those words, ‘twins,’ ; ‘same,’ they make you feel suffocated. Ah-young always had the habit of using those against you, and every time those words rolled off her tongue, it felt like you'd ripped off your identity, not that you had one that belonged solely to you in the first place. You try to imagine Heeseung’s reaction in this situation, would he take your side or hers, or if he would even care who survives because you both look the same, it barely makes any difference. 

But, somewhere inside, you know he would choose her over you.  “That’s right,” There’s firmness in your voice, a sense of hatred, as your hand ghosts up her cheeks and grabs onto her hair. “Then why do you get to have all the good things?” 

Perhaps, it’s the fragrance of the nightshade flowers that fill your room and intoxicate your senses, but the blood on your palms feels like jewels of a newlywed, and her pleas to be spared— music to your ears. You always had it in you, the will to fight back, the numbness to fear, the sparks of insanity that blew up and suddenly, your heart is in flames. Normality has always been a paved road, comfortable to walk but no flowers could grow. You were the flower that yearned to bloom, your sister was the tree taking up your sunlight. When a flower doesn’t grow, one shall change the environment it has been planted in, and not the flower itself. The soil must be tilled, weeds should be removed, pests are to be killed, anything unnecessary shall be discarded. You could care less about her silent wails trying to reach across the piece of cloth in her mouth as you dragged her to the basement from under the staircase. Her cries got louder with every step that her head hit down the stairs, across the cold concrete stinging her satiny skin, albeit not enough to cross the walls and reach for help, every second filled you with content; a step closer to the love of your life. 

“Heeseung would never love you,” And silence. The words leave her mouth as soon as you remove the handkerchief. You wanted to hear her beg for her life, to plead forgiveness, to quietly hand over what you wanted if she feared death, but her words come off as a curse, as if she’s trying to anathematise your to-be married life with him, to take away the happiness you’ve been devoid of for years. You could fear her words and the wrath of Gods that may follow along as a consequence of your actions, but you have the desire, and nothing to lose. 

For you have always been a child of war, and Ah-young is simply born with tragedy in her blood. 

The basement served as a cell for solitary confinement for the previous family who lived in the house, for children who displayed unacceptable behaviour and disobeyed their parents, for servants who said more than what was needed, for wives who dared standing on the same level as their husbands. The walls of the house have been renovated over the years, decorated with exquisite wallpapers everytime they have been changed. People fawn upon its beauty, unaware of the secrets it hides deep down below. The walls of the basement have seen a lot over the decades, centuries, even, and the decoloured blood stains on the floor and corners describe each of those stories. One would quiver under the worn out ceiling that feels that it holds eyes and spirits of the dead beyond its arches. Though, Ah-young stares at you with resentment in her stare, one that was filled with hope up until a few minutes ago. 

You could gauge her eyes out, the ones that she’s so proud of, the ones that hold all the memories of Heeseung that should’ve been yours. Or, you could carve her plum skin with incisions and lacerations, painful enough that her soul withers inside, deep enough to leave scars that would make it difficult for anyone to believe she's the daughter of the most beautiful woman in the state. You could do things no one would do to their siblings— the ten year old didn’t know a day like this would come— but some things are inevitable. The scissors are in your hand, she is in front of you, slouched down, hands tied behind her back with wrists that have been bruised by the rope, oh so poor eyes gleaming with pain and hatred wishing they could do something. The scissors are in your hand, and your hand is on her cheek, the cold metal sending shivers down her spine as you run it down her face— the game was yours to play.  

“Hell, you look so much like me, I can’t even kill you,” You whisper close. The scissor is on her neck, it’s as if you could fear her blood rushing through the arteries, right under the skin. You slide it across her throat, pressing it on her collarbones— Ah-young draws in a quick breath— you pierce through her skin, a minute cut, single tear rolling down her cheek that lands on the back of your hand; it feels like you’re killing yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll get to see each other around, yes?” 

You discard the scissor somewhere behind you, taking a few steps back, watching her fall down to the floor, eyes squeezed shut in excruciating pain. It’s nowhere near what you’ve experienced all these years, alone and in regrets, guilt and depreciation, watching the person you love fall in love with someone else. But, love doesn’t ask for sacrifices, for kindness. Love isn’t about letting go, but instead, it’s about holding onto, love is about crossing the limits to prove that you’re deserving of it; because love has always been about the selfishness your heart conceals. You pick up the handkerchief, your sister chanting trails of nos while shaking her head, throwing her leg around frantically to keep you away, but your hand grabs her face, nails digging mercilessly into her skin, enough to draw blood. A moment of silence, ‘stop’ she begs you with her eyes, ‘die’ you tell her with yours, and put the cloth around her mouth, tying it behind her head. 

Tears fall further. Your lips curl up. 

“He’s right, red suits you the best,” You wipe your thumb on her temple, over the loose clot that had formed on her wound. Your smile grows wider, you pluck out the mass of dead cells, letting the pus and blood ooze out as her muffled wails fill the room. Your hands cup her cheeks, a touch of pity, and you lean in towards her forehead, a kiss of death. “Goodnight, dear sister,” 

Perhaps, it’s the game of fates, how destiny plays into the hands of those who continue to fight without fearing the aftermath. The irony of happiness and despair— they go hand in hand. Sunlight graces upon the lands and your handmaidens are ready with everything they need for the bride, not you— Ah-young; unaware of the truth that lies beneath the grounds they walk onto, the truth under the enchanting smile that makes everyone believe in the tricks you’ve played. 

The eyes leave you unattended for minutes and you're on your way to the basement. The air inside smells of urine; your nose scrunches in disgust. A lot could happen in one night, you expected to greet her corpse by dawn, for she has always been as fragile as a dandelion, but you’re met with her exhausted body that dragged itself to the cover, above the dusty rags to save itself from the deadly cold of winter nights. 

“Look at you,” You say it in a way she would’ve said it if she could. It wasn’t intentional, you’ve just always been more like her sister, more than anyone ever knew. A chuckle rolls off your tongue as you walk to her, pulling her rolled up chemise down her thighs, admiring the scratches on her legs that she had gotten while dragging herself over the concrete and the numerous little red spots left by the mosquitos on her arms and feet. Even with chapped lips that beg for water and hands that are tied to even wipe off the nasal discharge off her face, her eyes spell of indignation at the sight of you, brimming with fear and yet so full of anger and detest. The blood had dried off her face, the wound inflicted on her collarbone inflamed to stages it could possibly be home to infections her soul would have never heard of. You could barely say she was your sister, that she was even a part of you, let alone being the splitting image, because you were standing in your best dress while she was lying in the dust that had soaked the blood off the injury on the back of her head. She looks defeated, head hung low, like a pest that had been hunted by the predator and is now ready to be eaten. Her eyes ask a question— why, and nothing more. Perhaps, an answer would help her survive without food and water longer than her body could sustain itself. You take a step towards her, accidently hitting your elbow against the corner of a rusted iron cupboard and wincing in the process. She laughs through the cloth, you restrain yourself from coercing into picking up the scissors thrown around and slitting her face from one end to the other, making sure she smiled forever. 

You grit your teeth, fist closed tight, eyes glaring into her putrid sight. Her condition makes you feel good about yourself, that you don’t need to feel threatened by such lowly lives, until your eyes land onto something shiny on her fingers, and it belongs to you. She needed an answer why, you have nothing to say for she’s smart, except what she used to tell you all the time: 

“The best thing about being identical twins,”— You take her hand, slipping out the engagement ring from her finger before sliding it on your own— “we can switch places and no one would ever know.” 

note : if u made it this far ,, thank u i luv u pls lmk what u think im itching to know 😔

[obsessedwithceleste]

Hi, I hope you're doing well. I recently found your page and absolutely LOVEEE everything about it. I'd like to kindly ask for a slytherin boy's pairing 🙈

ME:

I'd describe myself as an extrovert but it also depends on social situations but I find it quite easy to comversate with just anyone. I LOVE watching films and shows as it's a way to see people's creativity. I'm an April Taurus (had to be specific). I enjoy exercise and constantly being active because it relaxes me. I play sports on a regular basis and try to fuel my body the best I can in order to feel my best. I enjoy watching animated shows like Rick and Morty, South Park, ect. I love engaging in self-care like switching candles on and have good jazz or R&B music in the background. I love spending time with friendsand causally go out. I don't party much because I prefer calmer scenery like hidden gems in my city. I'm goal-oriented and ambitious about certain things I want to achieve whether it's career wise or in my day to day life. In summary I love to constantly work to improve myself and be the best I can be. I'm sensitive, caring, loyal and trustworthy. I'm smart, creative and artistic. I'm quite good at drawing and I'm independent but not afraid to ask for help when I need it. I'm able to make people laugh easily and come up with jokes quickly (humble way of saying I'm funny 😹)

Extras:

My favorite season is Summer/Autumn

I love dining out

I dislike watermelon but love watermelon flavored things

I used to be super into astrology (SUPEEERR)

Physical appearance:

I'd like to believe I'm average height 😭 (I'm 5'4). I have a toned athletic body. Strong legs and a phatt @ss 😝 (had to add that 😔). I have black long 4C hair and a proportional upper to lower body ratio. I lean to the smaller side in terms of bust. I have a button nose (so I'm told), brown eyes and a warm undertone. I have a prominent beauty spot above my lip close to my cupids bow and almond shaped eyes. I have medium to full lips and and oval face.

That's about it... I'll most likely remember more things about myself after I send this 😂😂 but anyways take care and thank you so much! ❤️ God Bless 🙏

We love a confident queen with a phat @ss🫡

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo is firey, impulsive, and intense. He doesn’t do things halfway and fully pours himself into everything he does.

He’s always thought of himself as being emotionally detached. Affection is just a form of weakness after all (or at least that’s what his father says).

The first time the two of you go head to head is on the quidditch pitch. Mattheo takes the game quite seriously, so to see someone equally as passionate on the pitch that can give him a run for his money definitely intrigues him.

He notices you more after that. Chatting in the back of the classroom with anyone who will listen, bantering in the Great Hall with your teammates.

You seem fun and easygoing and confident. Mattheo can admire that.

Every time he sees you sauntering off of the pitch before his own practice starts, he has to force himself not to stare (discretion who?). He's not good at hiding it at all though, and Theo has a field day making fun of him for it.

After weeks of this, Mattheo happens to find himself out on the field at just the right time as you'd decided to get some extra practice in over the weekend.

Before he has the chance to over think it, Mattheo joins you in the air, quickly falling in line beside you. You're surprised at first. You'd seen him around of course, but he'd always kept to his own little group of friends.

You weren't going to complain either way though and soon enough, the two of you were bickering as if you'd known each other your whole lives.

After that, Mattheo seems like he just can't get enough of you, wanting to spend every waking moment of his day with you. He doesn't get close to many, so when he does find someone, he tends to latch on.

The first time Mattheo truly lets himself believe that he might be falling for you (he had been for awhile now) is when he finds himself sat in your dorm room, soft candlelight glowing across the room as music plays somewhere in the background.

You'd somehow convinced the boy to let you put a facemask (whatever that was) on him. He didn't think he liked it much. It was cold, and wet, and slimy. But he liked you, so he allowed it.

It's not until a few nights later though, while you're both lounging about by the fireplace that he asks the question. It comes out of nowhere. You had been discussing which professional quidditch team would win the world cup when he suddenly sat straight up and asked to be your boyfriend.

It takes you a moment to respond, you're so caught off guard, but the "yes" hadn't even fully left your lips before his mouth is on yours.

Once it's official, Mattheo is stuck to your side (even more than he had been). Theo gets a kick out of teasing him, reminding him of how he'd stared at you like a lovesick fool for weeks (a total coincidence of course, that one of his eyebrows was singed off that very week).

Anyway, Mattheo loves having his hands on you at all times, wrapping you in a tight hug, having his arm slung over your shoulder, hand possessively on your thigh.

The boy is completely and utterly obsessed with you. Hard to believe that he was once stoic and unfeeling when he's now tripping over himself to bend to your every whim.