#Original Writing

[eorzean-capitalist]

oh look.

It's Amelia.

Miss "I don't care what gender you're dating, but no son of mine is going to date or marry a Watcher!"

I find it funny when queer fantasy stories are written in a setting where homophobia doesn't exist, but there's a ~forbidden romance~ element coming from some completely different, fantastical prejudice. Like

"Son, I don't care if you suck dick, but no child of mine will be sharing a bed with a goddamn necromancer!"

[akindplace]

disabled people deserve more than being shamed for having symptoms while in public. no one owes anyone to be pretty when they are sick, and if some symptoms are “disgusting”, “ugly” or even just annoying to you, then look away. mind your own business. no one owes you attractiveness, no one should be appealing to you all the time, people have a right to exist in public even when they are different, even when they are sick.

[satosuguwifee]

Double Trouble, Double Love — Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

wc: 843

contents: canon AU, fluff, familly

It was an idea inspired by a fanart here on tumblr! Here's the post!

It was another beautiful morning in Tokyo, the sun rising behind the city's tall buildings that seemed to almost touch the newly lit sky. A cool but cozy breeze brushed across his body as he walked in quick steps, messing up his slightly spiky hair while holding a shopping bag with his free hand.

Toji sighs lightly, observing the streets of the neighborhood with his sharp green eyes because, although he and Y/n had managed to get enough money to rent an apartment sufficient for their small family, the neighborhood wasn't exactly known for being one of the safest there, but it was kind of quiet during the day.

He then took his hand out of his hair and used it to get the keys from his coat pocket and open the door to the apartment, finding the familiar warmth of the room.

After leaving the bag containing diapers, a jar of his wife's favorite ice cream, baby milk and a bar of chocolate, he promptly went to their bedroom and came across the scene of Y/n fast asleep and, lying on her chest, were the twins Megumi and Milly, who were looking at their mother with doe eyes with an energy that neither of their parents had now.

“Are you two brats awake yet?” he then sighs tiredly, but a small smile forms on the corner of his lip as he approaches the little ones and sits down on the edge of the bed. ”Lucky you both are cute, you little pests.”

He says affectionately, even though he knows that Y/n doesn't like it when he refers to their children like that. Soon little Milly raised her eyes to him, the eyes that had even inherited their color from her mother, babbling something in baby language and stretching out a small hand towards him, making Toji's heart warm and take the baby in his arms.

“What is it, hm?” he asks, smiling when she just stares at him curiously. “You have your mother's look…” Toji quickly looked over at Megumi, who had his hand on Y/n's cheek and, since he was born, had a slightly more sullen and neutral look like his father. “And you, little man, you're pulling for Daddy here.”

Toji chuckled to himself, the scar on the right corner of his mouth stretching slightly with the movement, and soon he went around the bed to lie down on the empty side, leaving little Milly lying on his chest. He couldn't believe the turn his life had taken: since childhood he had always been despised and ignored by his own Zenin clan relatives because of his “defect” of not having cursed energy, and for many years he had been mistreated and abused by them until the day came when he fled that toxic environment, with no direction in life.

In order to survive, he began to take on underground jobs until he became a hitman and at the end of the day spent all his money on bets that he never won. Yeah, he was totally lost, until…

As he made his way back to the crumbling place he called home, he stopped at a coffee shop to order a simple coffee before his gaze turned to a slender, angelic figure behind the counter: Y/n, it said on the little badge pinned to her uniform.

And heavens, she had been kind to him like no one had ever been before, even frowning at him because of his slightly dirty and wrinkled clothes… She was like an angel and, without realizing it, that little creature had shot an arrow right through his heart, capturing him without giving him a chance to escape.

And, after five years together, they had formed their little family with Milly and Megumi who, while he rambled through his memories, had fallen asleep. The little girl slept against his chest, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his blouse while Megumi slept on Y/n's chest, who was awake, staring at him with tiredness but indescribable love.

“Hello doll, did you sleep well?” he asked softly, closing his eyes as he felt her fingers gently run through his hair and heard her giggle.

“I did, but it's so early and it's so warm in here… I don't want to get up.” she says, moving closer to him on the bed and sighing. “Can we go back to sleep?”

Toji just nods, circling her waist with his free arm and kissing her temple before thanking whoever is up there for bumping into this wonderful woman, who looks after him and his children with such dedication that he feels more complete than ever. And then, surrounded by his wife and babies, Toji quickly falls asleep after nuzzling his nose against his wife's hair, smiling in a genuine and affectionate way that no one would have thought possible.

[ohandsowedrown]

I will not be small. I will not be quiet. I will not make myself easy to swallow. If you must consume me, then choke.

[silencedminstrel2]

PREPARED

Now that half a decade is at my front lawn, waiting for me to welcome it would things

Still be the same? Would I still able to see the world like before or would I have to adjust to

Unexpected changes? Would I still be walking the same old path, those feelings

Never changing? I was never really prepared for it, never asked for it but still it came...

[gothamite-rambler]

Stephanie: Bruce, you look like Michael Keaton.

Bruce: Oh, thank you.

Stephanie (dryly with a smirk): When he was in Beetlejuice.

Bruce: WHY DO YOU ALL KEEP SAYING THAT?!

Dick: I always thought he looked more like Val Kilmer in his prime. And Barbara reminds me of the lead actress from Clueless.

Barbara: What the hell! I do not look like Cher, Joseph Gordon-Levitt!

Dick: I'm not going to snap because I know it's not true, Cher.

Barbara smacked Dick on the back of the head insulted.

Damian: There’s this actor that reminds me of Father… George Clooney.

Bruce: See? He gets me.

Stephanie: He's lying to you. Damian, you are such a kiss-up.

Duke: Am I the only one who thinks Jason sounds like Jensen Ackles… but kind of acts like Dean from Supernatural?

Jason: YES!

Bruce: That's fair, but I don’t look like Beetlejuice!

Alfred (pretending to dust): Yes, you do.

Bruce: ALFRED!

[shehungers]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

your granduncle claims that the noises coming from the basement were rats trying to escape drowning in the ocean outside the lighthouse and scavenging for food. more than being surprised by his audacity, you're astonished he hasn't noticed all the missing raw meat, yet...

story warnings; dark content, the creature is imprisoned, explicit sexual details, double penetration, ig the creature is experiencing some sort of rutting season?, some graphic + grotesque details, heavy prose + details, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

this is an old concept piece for a larger story.

if you enjoyed, please support my work by leaving feedback and reblogging!! 💖

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much at the bottom: a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by gooseflesh as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n; not even gonna lie, when I did a brief reread of this to apply warnings at the top, I burst out laughing at some parts. oh, past me, what were you thinking?

if y'all wanna see this rewritten and updated to better fit my current style, please let me know!

[saturnville]

drenched in you | kelvin harrison jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc summary: two lovers drenched in the love of one another warnings: 18+ steam. suggestive content. wc: 418 an: loving these blurbs, ngl. hope you enjoy! remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku

“Just a bit longer. Please, baby…” 

Kelvin was a strong man, so he often told himself in the mirror as he prepared to take on what each day had in store. Physically, mentally, and emotionally fit from years of combat and training. Yet, when her voice, soft like rose petals and gentle like a mother’s touch, lured him back beneath wildly tossed sheets. The steady patter of rain against the window deepened the stillness between them. 

Her fingers slid along his back in languid strokes, slow and deliberate. With every pass over her fingertips along the ridges of his back, she heard his soft hums and sighs of contentment. Her legs fell open just a bit wider, making room for his body to lay comfortably against hers. The warmth of her body against his brought him back to center. There was no rush, no need to return to the world and subject himself to the stress and chaos the world often presented on a platter. Just the two of them, nestled in each other's arms, the world outside softening with the rain's rhythm. 

His lips trailed down her jaw, brushing against her skin like a whispered secret. He inhaled her soft expressions, which carried the scent of freshly gathered daises blooming during the new season. She shivered beneath him, not from the cold but from anticipation, as he took his time caressing her face with his lips.’

He kissed her neck, tasted the salt on her skin, then found her mouth. The kiss was slow and deliberate, full of unspoken words and gentle sentiments he'd be sure to vocalize soon. With each pass of his tongue against hers, he could feel the tremor in her breath and her nails pressing crescent moons into his skin, pulling him closer. She arched her body into his, her breasts brushing against his chest, and he let the motion guide him, his hands gently caressing, exploring the familiar curves of her body. 

Kelvin sank into her, and the breath she didn’t know she was holding spilled from her lips in a trembling sigh. The rain thrummed harder against the window, but all she could hear was the whispered curse he exhaled against her skin.

The raindrops on the window turned into a soothing lullaby. Everything around them slowed to a standstill. Nothing mattered except the fire that blazed within them, the quiet moments of their kisses, and the slow buildup of desire woven into the soft fabric of a beautifully lazy morning. 

[silencedminstrel2]

RIGHT

Short of shored up feelings turned, try me for the sordid slights!

Whilst the pent up lonesome broods, seeded bound for darkened skies!

As is sure of hope denied, where would all that lied to cries? Weeping

Frowned past sanguine souls, when would justice make things right?

[evenlis]

If you remember me, someday in the future, I want to know, am I still 17 in your mind? Or have I changed? Have you?

- Evenlis

[akindplace]

you don’t need to keep perfecting something before you put it out into the world. it’s already good enough. if you keep perfecting it, you will never truly be done with it and satisfied with the results, and the anxiety over it will only get bigger. don’t let perfectionism paralyze you. you’re trying, and you’re learning from your mistakes, and the things you do are already good enough because you’re putting so much effort to it already, so they don’t need to be perfect. you don’t need to be perfect. and you don’t need to do things perfectly to make up for the fact that you are imperfect, to justify your existence, to feel you are good enough, to earn being seen as a valuable person. you are already enough, and you deserve kindness and compassion, specially from yourself.

[maleoventlover]

♱A Token of Blood and Gold♱ Pt.2

✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠✠

English Professor!Vampire x Human fem!reader

Your knees began buckle underneath as the blood flows freely from the fresh wound into your shoulder. Pain slowly became something else, something new. Oh this feeling. It was unlike anything you had ever felt. You could feel it burning in your veins. Lust, agony, desire, anger, emotions raged through you as Professor Farsi sinks his teeth deeper and deeper.

Your body begins to convulse as these emotions flow through you, your soul, your essence. It was the most pleasurable pain you hard every experienced. Oh you didn't want him to stop, never.

Your scream fades into a light whimper, grabbing onto Professor Farsi’s arm like its the only thing tethering you to this world.

“Sholeh ebdi man breath.”

He mutters against your skin, his tone gruff and hushed as he slowlly pulls his fangs from your shoulder.

Dragging his tongue against the bite wound cleaning off any blood, then pressing a soft kiss against your tender flesh.

You begin to come back to your senses and shove him away. Your hand clasps over your shoulder, confusion fogging your brain as you try to comprehend what had happened. You're breathing heavy, trying to catch your breath and calm your nerves from that…unique experience.

“You're a vampire.”

You mutter in a breathy whisper. Chest rising and falling rapidly. Your voice is mostly drowned out by the heavy rain, yet he nods as if hearing every word. As you look upon him you begin to notice subtle changes. You hadn't noticed this before but there seems to be a light in his eyes now, his face more flushed and less sunken. Overall he looked awake, alive, almost as if he had gotten a full night of rest.

“I must apologize Y/N. I do not normally loose control like this. But you just smelled…your blood smelled so sweet.”

He began to step closer to you once more causing you to back away frantically. You didn't trust him. How could you trust him? He kidnapped you, drugged you, and then bit you. Every single nerve in your body was on edge at his very presence. Slowly he lowered himself down to one knee, a hand extended.

“Oh Sholeh ebdi man, do not look at me like that. It breaks my heart.”

He was quick. Too quick for your eyes as he caresses your jaw with his cold finger. His eyes alone tell you everything you need to know. He wasn't going to let you go anytime soon.

“Professor Farsi please. I just want to go home.”

His brows furrow as you speak to him. The idea of you leaving him doesnt seem to agree with whatever he had in mind for you. But instead of addressing your ever so obvious kidnapping he flashes you a charming grin. Once you foundvyhis gesture comforting, only now to find secrets and whispers.

“My my Y/N, youre so formal. Please just call me Cyrus. It is the current name I go by.”

His hand slowly removed itself from your face. You key out a breath you didn't know you were holding. A sense of relief washing over you.

Cyrus sits down In a near by chair, he let out a longing sigh. Despite having you, his eternal flame, something seemed to be a burden. At the snap of his finger a crackle, similar to the fire sounds out, red sparks flashing from his fingers as another drink appears in his palm. Steadily fenesing its way into his finger tips. He brings the cup to his mouth and takes a large gulp.

“I can understand your hesitation when it comes to me. I should have asked for your concern instead of forcing my fangs upon you, it was uncuthe. Whether you choose to believe me or not, I am truly sorry for scaring you.”

While you are still on guard about being Locked in a room with Cyrus, you could sense some genuine sincerity. While he may mean what he says, you do not accept his apology. Not for what you've experienced.

“I cannot fathom the terror you're experiencing. I'll admit this was a impromptu desperate attempt to quench my thirst for blood and companionship.”

He grunts at his self reflection. A seemingly all time low for him. Like before, you blink and he's now at the window watching the storm rage outside. Despite his blood soaked chin and stained dress shirt, he looked stoic and ever so enchanting within the dim light of the fireplace.

“My dear Y/N. After this storm, I shall return you to you home if you wish.”

He shifts his weight and turns in your direction.

“But if you will allow me; I could show you things your silly lectures could never. I can teach you to hear the whispers of nature, read the stars to understand long forgotten secretes of the universe, guide you into the occult. Oh my love I could give you the world, but only if you allow me.”

Something about his words triggered something inside you. You have tried to live through the stories you have consumed all your life. Historical events, sci-fi, fantasy—you wanted to feel like you were a part of something bigger.

Now here he stood before you, a man, no, a being who could be the key to it all. His existence itself was proof there was more than what laid beyond the veil of the unknown.

“Do you promise?”

Your words came out hushed and desperate. The only reason you were in the field of academica was to live vicariously through your works. You finally had a chance to explore beyond your means and the limitations of research.

“Oh Y/N I can promise this and so much more. All you need to do is say the word and my boundless knowledge will become yours.”

‘This is bad. He wants nothing but to harm you Y/N. Leave while its still an option.’

The voice of reason in your head shouted. All of the alarms blared in your body but your curiousity was a curse in itself.

Who were you to give up such immense power? Who was anyone really?

“Can I have time to think about it?”

You ask. Figiting with your nails as you look Cyrus in the eyes. Those kind, beautiful, brown eyes.

The tension in your body begins to melt away the more you watch him. He was doing something to you, you could just feel it.

“Of course my love, we have eternity.”

Something about his words reminded you of candy. At first it’s sweet, it’s everything you wanted in the moment. Then you begin to taste the artificial chemicals and dyes, once a sweet treat now making you sick with its toxic stickiness. “I’ll be waiting for your answer Y/N. We may have eternity but I am far from a patient man.”

His sickly sweet voice dropped to a tone of seriousness. Maybe, just maybe he could detect your hesitation. A part of you wanted to stay yes, but every cell in your body is telling you to run far far away. He was a dangerous man, if you could even call him that.

“I..understand.”

Oh the battle between the heart and the mind is vicious and long. Here stands the man you craved, pinning after for years. Now that the opportunity presents itself, you feel uneasy.

Why you? Why did the one person you thought would understand you turn out to be an immortal blood sucking creature of the undead? You imagined every scenario between Professor and student yet none concluded to a supernatural twist.

Your eyes meet once more. You can feel your skin crawl seeing him you stare at you like that. Like he can see deep inside of you and is anticipating your every move. There was a stillness about him that made you uncomfortable. Almost as if he didn’t breathe.

The only thing you could do was excuse yourself, making that long trek back to the room you awoke in. The rain pounding against the manor, windows flashing with each surge of lighting. Your night gown flowing with each step.

He was following you. At least watching you. You could feel it.

When you finally reach the door to your room you spin around expecting him to be right behind you, but you find only cold still air.

(A/N: Part 3 coming soon!)

(should I start a tag list?)

@neuroticnickzero

@sunndust

@chainsprophet

[silencedminstrel2]

HAPPINESS

For those in grief but never in brief, let die and sigh for old long since

For soon to boon on twilight catharsis, but wherefore are we but sitting still?

Alas still grey but we'd wend still our way, to life beyond as such we did faced

Till we never would know what hope it looks like, what happiness feels like...alas!

[thescribblednovel]

Random Dialogue Prompts!!!!

“Hey, let me take over for a while.”

“You! Go rest!”

“Hey, it’s all going to work out in the end.”

“We’ve got your back! Don’t we, boys?”

“You can get more. It's on me alright. Don't worry about the price.”

“You remembered?” “Well you talked about it so passionately so I figured we could try it.”

“I love this song!” “Really?” “yeah, why?” “I just didn't know you were into this type of music is all.”

“Why are you eating nachos for breakfast?” “Because I can!”

(sarcastically) “I just wish you were more comfortable with me.”

“Sooo whats the deal between you guys?”

[thatdisasterauthor]

What you get when you back the Kickstarter:

If you back the Kickstarter for my new book, you can get tons of awesome, Kickstarter exclusive goodies! The book box tier (pictured above) includes:

A special edition hardback copy of the book with foiling, a printed case, printed edges, and printed endpapers.

An ebook copy of the book.

A character postcard.

A tasseled bookmark.

A mini firetruck keychain with one of the main characters inside.

Three vinyl stickers of watercolors I did using charcoal from one of the fires that inspired the book!

A bonus goodie that will be announced soon. 🥰

And if that's not your jam (or a little too expensive right now during the Bad Times, you can also get an ebook copy for just $5.)

The campaign runs until March 1st! <-Check it out!

(Signal boosts appreciated. I am caught in federal hiring freeze hell. 🙃)