#Icarus come home :(

[totallynotanthelion]

WHERE DID HE GO

FUCK I ACTUALLY KINDA LIKED HIM

DAD'S GONNA BEAT MY ASS

IF SOMEONE SEES A WILD ICARUS RUNNING AROUND OR PASSED OUT SOMEWHERE, PLEASE SEND HIM BACK

[apollos-boyfriend]

okay emu i think both you and i can agree that this is just getting Fucking Ridiculous

[pitty-aegis-parlor]

We're back!!!!

‘Sup. What’re you gonna order?

Good very late evening to all of you!

[come-home-official]

Come Home

Come Home is a story by Emmitt L.T. Thatcher! They have worked on this for a year or so, and was inspired by works like:

Project Ember by 2am Animations (Capcut and YouTube)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians(and all subsequent books/series) by Rick Riordan (Books)

Greek Mythology

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (books)

Emmitt made sure to incorporate a lot of diversity into their story, such as;

People of color

LGBTQIA+ characters

Characters with trauma/PTSD

Different body types

*Emmitt does not have PTSD and they are not a POC, nor do they claim to be either. If you have tips on how to write characters who are these things, please tell them.

Come Home is a fantasy novel with side romance and a lot of work and time put into the story making.

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

Let's meet the characters! Feel free to ask Emmitt about any of them, they will happily answer your questions.

Icarus "Russ" FLARE, 20 years old (He/him)

Russ is the main character of Come Home. He's a transgender pansexual male who has trauma from being in a war as a child. He is Clanae, a species special to Come Home, which are sort of like elves from pop culture. He is the main translator for the cast, as he knows how to read and speak both Clanae and Celvin.

Jason "Jace" Notch, 23 years old (He/him)

He is one of the main characters and is Icarus' love interest for most of the book. Across the book, we will find out that Jace might not be the loving, compassionate, and kind man we know him to be. He is a gay man and he has minor PSTD from his abusive childhood. He is a Celvin, which is the name for humans in Come Home.

Sera(Seh-rah) Pérez, 25 years old (She/her)

She is one of the main characters and is a sister figure to Icarus. She is a transgender lesbian female and she gets jealous easily. She was the person who took Icarus in when he had nobody. She is a Celvin.

Kyre(Kai-uhr) Snowe, 26 years old (They/them)

They are one of the main characters and is Sera's love interest for most of the story. They are a nonbinary bisexual. They are a Celvin, but they are learning how to read Clanae. They are one of the least developed in the story, but Emmitt is working on writing more of them.

Lacy Dexter, 32 years old (She/They)

Lacy is a side-main character and she is the commander of the Clanae army. She is a demiromantic and demisexual woman. She is Clanae and she is the oldest of the entire cast. She has mastered Clanae magic, but prefers her bow and sword.

Asher Dexter, 32 years old (He/they)

Asher, like his sister Lacy, is a side-main character. He's an asexual omniromantic man. They are the second oldest and is Lacy's twin, being just a few minutes younger than her. He is a Clanae and is learning Celvin. He has mastered Clanae magic, but is the least recognized as strong. He is Kyre's best friend and Mateo's ex-partner.

Mateo Raine, 30 years old (He/him)

Mateo is one of the antagonists and is Celvin, however, he understands Clanae and can read it. He has mastered Victorian Fire, the Celvin's magic, and he is an omnisexual man. Emmitt has two ways his story could go; either the main cast defeat him in some way, or he gets redeemed somehow.

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

Emmitt is also planning on an event where you can ask the Come Home characters about themselves and how they act, etc. Again, feel free to ask about CH or it's characters if you feel so inclined!

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

Links to CH things on Emmitt's main blog:

Questions they answered

Song

Royal AU

A scene they're writing

Their sister's oc

Lore sneak-peak

Draft

Brief rundown of series

More questions

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

CH Tags:

come home by emmitt

clanae and celvin

icarus flare ch

jason notch ch

sera pérez ch

kyre snowe ch

lacy dexter ch

asher dexter ch

mateo raine ch

dexter twins ch

sword and sparrow ch

candle and flame ch

strawberry lemonade ch

[stevethehairington]

im gonna be real — this author did Not get tommy h right. not at all. she made him out to be like the ring leader, the Big Bad Bully that starts shit AND finishes it, but like. that's not?? who he is??? he's a follower, not a leader. he followed steve, trailed after him like a lost puppy, and when steve decided being king wasn't his thing, tommy didn't step up to fill in his shoes — he moved on to billy. he became billy's shadow and did what billy said. also, as far as i remember (and i could be wrong, its been a hot sec since ive rewatched), tommy never got physical with anyone like that; he never threw a punch. so the way this writer is characterizing him, as this bloodthirsty, violently angry guy who beats up on freshmen and keeps beating up on them long after they've been seriously injured,,,, thats,,,, not it. that's not tommy.

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

I finally started reading Flight of Icarus and I’m so confused because it’s implying Wayne and Eddie don’t live together…even though Eddie literally flat out says he lives with Wayne in the first episode of the season?

[orcelito]

I think the worst of the danger mania is over :p

I've made some rice for leftover curry. Gonna eat after I shower.

[tsukimirecs]

toji fushiguro // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

they were just friends. (they were not just friends.)

abalone on the shore

icarus' irony

a much needed reminder

sad, beautiful, tragic

pink in the night

baby i could come by (help forget it all)

when i come home (and you are there)

wicked games

let the light in

play along

she's like a rainbow (she comes in colours everywhere)

windy summer

coming home

never as bad as they seem

be my daddy

in the shadows of love

lady y/n and the broke man

private party

i know what love is

beauty of the dawn

touched for the very first time

play house

how we break

debt

sugar addict

stay soft. get eaten

nurse toji

daisy

dance with me

epilogue: & forevermore

what if toji survived his fight with gojo and landed on your doorstep?

photograph

reminders

within his reach

[hillrun]

i took the image of a burning image into my heart. / aesthetic .

cassandra climbs the palace steps unprompted. / character study .

guilt is a woman & she's walking on her knees. / musings.

gods of slaughter‚ i've always been your favorite daughter. / fc.

i'll make a fist. i'll make it count. / arc iii fc .

everywhere she ran‚ she found she was already there. / ic .

in her eyes‚ home has always been burning. / hc .

bad daughter‚ freedom fighter. / arc undetermined .

i still dream about my childhood room. / arc i .

i'm afraid that i'm sisyphus and i will never rest. / arc ii .

i buried a hatchet‚ it's coming up lavender. / arc iii .

it's a cruel summer. / fear street verse .

rip icarus‚ u would have loved redbull / shitposting .

[totallynotanthelion]

Sorry if it's storming for you I miss my stepdad :(

anyway Dave took this photo while I WASN'T FUCKING LOOKING Never letting him play Angry Birds on it again >:(

[stressfulsloth]

Ough I was having the most low-pain day I've had in a while and I think I pushed too hard and now I am on fire in hell :))

[marvellous1917]

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

[come-home-official]

boop Icarus?

[vagabond-umlaut]

tryst, too tempest

Icarus fell for loving the Sun.

You will, for loving your lover.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 1.1k wc; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone' & 'fall of icarus'; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of violence, murder, cannibalism]; warning 2.0: the reader is not very keen to leave or not love her husband; uraume is the BEST WINGPERSON none of you two ever deserved but still got; FLUFF & ANGST & A MADLY DEVOTED LOVE YOU AND SUKUNA FEEL FOR EACH OTHER

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' – same universe as the work 'six seeds, like rubies...' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Foul winds howl through the land, the first year of your life as one Ryomen Sukuna's wife.

Servants cower before you the moment your shadow falls within their field of vision, yet their gaze stays steeped in pity and envy the entire time it remains trained on your feet. Grocers mumble to one another, eyes looking away when you move to look at the things in their shops. Even the very flora and fauna, you loved so much growing up, writing poems on them from the day you knew how to pen a poem– even the same flora and fauna feels so foreign to you—

"You do realize your importance to Master, don't you?"

Uraume's quiet question floats in through your thoughts, much akin a gentle breeze creating small ripples over the water surface. You smile. "Given how I haven't been eaten by him or sent to be murdered by his subordinate curses, I think I do."

Emotion, too similar to humor, flits across the mien of your husband's loyal follower — you decide not to think much of it. Too many days of having only them as someone to speak to, outside of requesting for a second serving of the soup or asking for the cost of yukata, has led to you imagining a smile on a person who is famous for their poker face. Shaking your head, you return to your poems, the quill fluttering over the roll of parchment you found lying at the breakfast today morning, and let out a content sigh — only for your peace of mind to be broken by the bursting of a guard into the garden, appearing too terrorstruck to utter a single coherent word.

It takes you nothing save one glance, moving from him to Uraume to your ink-stained fingers, before you find yourself keeping the papers on the ground beside and rising, feet breaking into a hasty giddy run down the corridors of the palace to the throne room where, certainly enough–

"I was under the impression you've run away in the extra while I spent sleeping, wife."

The world around you comes to a dead stop as the visage of Sukuna comes into your line of sight; you feel your heart skip two beats then begin a thundering rhythm against your ribcage.

Four years ago, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have given them a second of your time before walking away with a polite excuse.

One year before, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have huffed a quiet laugh. The first two have already come to pass (with too many lives lost and too many lives threatened) — yet the very last prediction? You would have considered it to be highly improbable, if not outright impossible.

Yet, now, if someone were to tell you the same three things, you think you wouldn't have shown much of a reaction. You would have simply turned to that 'someone' mentioned in the prediction, and gazed and gazed and gazed–

"I left the roll of parchment you bought for Mistress at the breakfast table, just as you asked, Master," Uraume's voice cuts your thoughts into half and you twist to catch them offer you both a very deep bow before hurrying out, to the left towards the kitchen, four baskets full of radishes in their arms.

You look back at your husband, only to find him seated stiffly on his throne, eyes landing anywhere but you. Stifling a giggle, you tilt your head to the side.

"Why do you act so embarrassed, my king?" you ask, stepping a timid step towards him, then another. Gleaming ruby eyes dart to your face then to your approaching feet. Something tingles through your veins. Climbing the stairs leading to him, you hum, smiling, "I don't think it's embarrassing – quite the opposite, in fact. To me, giving one's wife a thoughtful gift as that... it seems quite adorable to me."

"Be careful of your words, woman," the King of Curses growls, rising and taking a large menacing step in your direction; your smile grows intentionally too innocent, which does apparently nothing to quell his increasing fury: the precise outcome you've been wishing so fervently for.

He pulls you by the waist, flush to himself and lowers his lips close to yours, tantalizingly so. He smells very strongly of those bath salts you bought from a travelling merchant three moons back; faintly of blood and death, of the priest he diced last night after dinner — you wonder if you're worthy to be called a human, after finding the curse you have sworn yourself to forever, so terribly dear despite these.

Certainly not — but you reckon you're too far gone to care anyways, so you stop wondering such things – and lift yourself on your tiptoes to brush your lips with your husband's, then pull away a touch, words leaving your lips in a breathy whisper.

"What if I'm not careful with my words? What will you do then, hm? Will you devour me like the monster everyone says you are? Or, will you throw me away like everyone warns me you will one day– when you find someone prettier, smarter, better than me, huh?"

Two moments pass in pin-drop silence between the two of you.

Barking a noisy guffaw, Sukuna weaves his fingers through your hair, still damp from the bath you took a short time ago, and plants a deep kiss to your lips. Then parts his lips from yours, although a mere hair's breadth away, and grins, features teeming with that exotic species of malevolence you never saw yourself regarding to be charming.

Until your gaze met with his, one fated evening, that is.

Your nails dig crescents into the broad muscles of his shoulders.

Your lover's grin sharpens. "Let time tell the tale— yes, my queen?"

The next morning, you find a dozen or so heads waiting for you at the breakfast table, severed by a neat slice at the root of their neck– eyes and mouths which once looked down on your wedding with the King, frozen forever now in a scream of terror.

Forsaking the wonted theme of nature, you decide to pen a poem on scathing, soothing love, instead.

or... everyone: your husband is a despicable monster!!! you: uh-huh everyone: he might leave you for someone better!!! you: uh-huh everyone: you better not stay in this union anymore. you: nuh-nuh. i'm so gonna stay and love and fuck my hubby <3

▸ masterlist

[palespawn]

“  what? ” there's a strange look in his eyes, as if he had let slip something he shouldn't have. was he getting too comfortable? he ponders the thought, all the while mourning the loss of warmth from his lap; a moment of perplexity that is sooner vanquished with a single question. hours? maybe he was. getting too comfortable. this wasn't known territory. it often had him figuratively floundering out in the open, not knowing what to do next, say next. what was revealing too much, what wasn't enough? astarion's burgeoning frown is smoothed away with a single compliment and a lingering touch; a scorching trail that runs along his cheekbone, has him leaning into the gesture and chasing the foreign gentility of it. he can feel the ghost of his fingers against his cheek even after they depart and he doesn't know how to ask for it again. and again, and again.

he feels caught between two desires, and a million and one questions he couldn't possibly squeeze into what remained of their evening. the vampire, amidst his inner turmoiling, lolls his head to the side and falls back into easy, old habits. “  i'm so glad you agree. you're the first to say that, you know, ” he sighs, feigning bothered by the lack of incoming compliments. honestly, how was an elf to survive in such treacherous conditions? “  i'll hold you to that, my dear. pillowing is awfully hard on the thighs, ” he leans back on the balls of his palms, lips slowly drawing into a sly smile. and yet, he can't help himself. while the promise of a massage was eagerly anticipated, he had to know. what, or who, had reduced vhaal'krin to such a state? his concerns are masked with an inquisitive pinch of his brow, arched in expectation.

“  but, all is forgiven. you were in quite the state, after all ... and, i don't suppose you're going to appease my curiosity, hm? i'd hate to waste the night laying awake wondering, when we could be enjoying one anothers' company instead. ”

❝ i'm sorry ... ❞ the low vibrations of the sentiment thrum against him again ; astarion doesn't smell like any other elf he'd been with , he smells so uniquely ... like himself . even when he's covered in blood and grime after a battle , he likes his scent . it evokes the softness of a domesticated animal within him , the kind that wants to purr and curl up in your lap in front of a fireplace . it smells like coming home and nuzzling into your comfort blanket , nostalgic and familiar ... and he couldn't shake that strange feeling he'd inhaled this scent before . must be his addled mind , playing tricks on him . hopefully he didn't have a concussion . no - no , he couldn't ... he remembers astarion cushioning the fall , now .

❝ you ... ❞ it trails off , whatever playful remark he was gonna say suddenly losing its significance - soft lashes flutter upwards , he withdraws from hiding in the comfort of his lap , allowing for a sliver of light to kiss the delicate outline of his face as he looks up at the elf , curious . ❝ ... hours ? ❞ he sounds genuinely surprised , almost innocent in the way he asks . he'd really stood there with him for hours ? ... why ? the question nips at his brain , but he can't bring himself to ask . those sharp talons reach for his face instead , contemplative , in the way he unhurriedly traces the cutting edge of his cheekbone . ❝ you're a very beautiful pillow . ❞ he allows himself to linger there , just for a second - for a moment of pure self-indulgence before he forces himself off his thighs with a grunt of discomfort . ❝ i ... owe your legs a very long massage ... ❞ he tells him , a somewhat coy look about him . ❝ thank you ... for taking such good care of me . ❞

[writingfromasgard]

[Masterlist]

Simon might have a German Shepard as his work dog but in his private life he's got the scrungiest dog in the world. It's got 1 tooth, missing a weirdly square piece of its ear, and the vet isn't sure how old it is. It had mange so bad that its permanently missing fur and feels like petting asphalt.

Simon names it Icarus. Doesn't matter if it's male or female. He also cooks all of its food, boards it when he'saway, and decides to take up knitting so he can knit Icarus "fur".

Where did he find it? Garbage? Petrol station? Woods? No, this dumbass saw an alert Icarus was going to be euthanized because it'd been in a shelter for 2 years and was like its hideous and now mine.

Every time Simon comes home, Icarus hobbles over to him, eyes blinking asynchronously, tail wagging so hard its backend is moving side to side. Simon picks it up, giving a single pat on its head and spends the rest of the day watching Icarus' favorite movie: All cats go to heaven.