#Powdered Wisp Remains

[fogaminghub]

🚀 Ready to level up your collection in 2025? Join the adventure to collect the Stonewisp of Truth and Law, the new morphing collectible dedicated to Julianos! Embrace the wisdom and logic of the Divine while gathering fragments throughout the year. 

✨ Read our detailed guide on how to complete this collectible and join the fun! 

[opulace]

── HOMECOMING 糸師 冴 itoshi sae

contains: fem!reader, angst, aged up characters, breakup (reasons unspecified), implied childhood friendship and sibling-like relationship with rin

word count: 0.8k

the past comes running back and you can't hide from it, no matter how hard you try. a part of you never wanted to anyway.

grief manifests in shades of pink.

it's in strands of a darker, brownish tint. locks that loved being tangled between your fingers, stroked and combed through with soft touches and bathed in sunlight as they splay over plush white pillows and tousle from being buried in the comfort of your chest. you still find them strewn around the house, loose strings trapped in the shower, a wisp on the living room floor, mixed in with the sheets. no matter how much you clean, traces of them remain like the permanent draw of lint to nylon.

you see it in the shade of pink painting your lips, one that's left countless stains across the cheeks, forehead, lips, nose, anywhere within reach, of the one you loved, still love. the exact hue in the tube burning into the back of your eyelids along with every curve, angle and sculpt of his face.

it's immortalised in pictures, the dust of colour finely powdered across his cheeks when you say something and catch him off guard, once round with baby fat and slowly loosing its fullness as the years rolled by. now you can only hope to trace across them with the pad of your thumb, all that's left is the feeling of glossy paper on your skin.

it's strange isn't it, how the world seems to continue in its orbit, yet your whole universe seems to have simply stopped, frozen in a time where the other side of your bed was still warm and there were two toothbrushes in the mug by the sink.

your days have felt hollow since itoshi sae left, nothing but passing dates checked off the calendar.

everything reminded you of him. that used to be a happy thought, akin to a sweet nothing. you spent a good portion of your life with him after all, once neighbours to the itoshi's, now just a receipient of apologetic smiles. you're still close to his mother, you drop by with flowers every month and she insists on cooking you a meal, just like old times.

she'd sit you down and talk about you, what you've been up to and how's the family, but never about him. yet just being in that home, felt like holding a piece of him in the palm of your hand that you should no longer have access to. it felt wrong, and you felt guilty, though she never has and never will hold it against you.

you see rin there on a rare occasion and you catch up over tea like grown adults, even if it means still being sat cross legged on the floor of his childhood bedroom like when you were kids and having convenience store popsicles after.

there's no more toys scattered over the ground, no more bunk bed, just a twin sized bed one on each extreme end of the room. it's mostly untouched, only rin occupies it when he returns home on breaks to visit family. the less than perfect plushie you gave sae at age five still sits against the headboard. you can't bear to look at it for too long.

"i win. what about you?"

you shake my head, showing him the stick. you used to, not anymore.

"i spoke to niichan the other day." that's new, you didn't know they were on speaking terms.

"he asked about you." oh.

you look up at him then, expression unreadable for the most part but there's a slight hint of pain no matter how much you try to bury it. the words leave you before you can stop them, barely above a whisper, "what did he say?"

"asked me to check up on you."

"what, does he think i can't take care of myself?" you scoff, but there's no bite, there never is when it comes to him. "is that why you're here?"

he doesn't deny the latter.

"you know he doesn't think that." rin mentions offhandedly, but really, he's eyeing you as if he's trying to gauge your reaction. "season's wrapping up, he's coming home."

he's coming home.

you can't help the tinge of bitterness seeping through your words, and as you picked at your nails, a part of you knew that deep down, you never moved on, and if rin's words imply what you think they do, maybe he hasn't either, but you need to hear it straight.

no roundabouts, no beating around the bush.

"and what has that got to do with me?"

he sighs, letting his head loll and his fridge mask his eyes for just a second, like he knew this would happen, "do you really need me to spell it out for you neesan?"

"he wants to see you."

notes. should i do a pt2 of the meeting or let them grovel

masterlist

taglist: open (link to form) @mikiruie @saucejar @stellar-headquarters

© opulace. please do not repost, plagiarise, translate, or feed my work to ai.

[purplekonn]

OC KISS WEEK '25 (Belated)

I haven't written anything in literal years, and I've never posted any of it. So I've decided to dip my toe back in. Here's Neve/Kaspian Mercar(not Rook)/Beata de Riva (Rook) for my first and last OC Kiss week submission lol

Bea belongs to @hightowerqueen!

Rating: Mature, mild suggestive themes.

It had been an exceedingly rough year for the inhabitants of the lighthouse. The world had been saved, the day won, and the costs - oh, the costs - neatly packed away in tame little memorials. There had been the honoring ceremonies, a tour of nations awarding whatever prestigious title or honor was appropriate to each of the remaining members of the Veilguard. Then the remembrance, an awkwardly cheerful service dedicated to “those that had fallen.” Put on by the remnants of a Trevisan government, the words were shallow, and undeserving of the grand decorations and banquet set out. 

And then it had quieted. 

The tours stopped, the lights dimmed, the chorus was silent. What remained were the exhausted, poorly placated, and underfunded Veilguard. Though even they were incomplete. Oh, the costs. 

~~~~~

“Did you hear that?” Neve, clad in what Kaspian had come to call her “couldn’t care less” clothes, still dazzled the eye with a teal camisole and slightly oversized grey sweatpants that seemed to swallow her feet. 

“The screaming? I thought it was a little hard to miss.” Kaspian, shirtless as ever and sporting sweats that match the color of Neve’s cami, raised an eyebrow at his partner and tilted his head as if to listen harder. “Sounded like Bea.” He slid off the queen size mattress they had managed to squeeze into the detective's office and padded over barefoot to the door that would lead him out to the lighthouse courtyard. “From the kitchen.” Neve added with a small frown. 

“Lets go.” A simple nod followed her words, to which Kaspian responded with a mock salute and began searching for something a bit more appropriate to wear. 

The two exited Neves office moments later, Kaspian in a quarter zip sweater he liked to wear under his armor, and neve with her sceptre - just in case. Hurried steps took them the length of the courtyard and through the heavy wooden door to the dining room and kitchens. Upon first glance nothing seemed immediately out of the ordinary, a dimming fire crackled in the fireplace, the lights in the dining room, magically one would assume, matching the soft glow. Seconds after entry, though, the pair could make out a soft and muffled sobbing echoing from the cracked door to the storage room. The warm light that spilled into the dining room through the crack let the two know where Beata would be. 

The two exchanged concerned glances, the same thought seemingly working its way through each of their minds, and Neve let out a low sigh as she leaned her sceptre by the door and made her way towards the storage room. Kaspian followed behind after closing the door to the courtyard and asking a wisp to keep people away from the building until they leave. 

Neve nudges the door open with her foot, the light spilling over the couples form as they both shuffled into the room. 

There at the far end of the long rectangular room was Beata “Rook” De Riva, crumpled in a pile of Hazelnuts and a bag each of sugar and baking powder. “Bea? Beata, darling, did you slip? What happened its hours from sun up.” Neve knelt next to her. Their history was deep and the bond they shared was unique - more similar to Kaspians bond with her than Bellara’s. Bea was the leader of the Veilguard, but beyond that she was one of Neve’s closest friends, and her former flame. ‘A decision needed to be made, I appreciate that. I just wish it had been a different one.’ Neve hadn’t been able to get over it as quickly as she thought, and decided she needed time before she could even consider what they could be. 

That hadn’t stopped Neve from loving Bea fiercely. When she met Kaspian, when Bea fell for Lucanis, they had shared nothing but love. When Bea had lost Lucanis, the months spent searching and waiting for Kaspian after he sacrificed himself to the fade prison in Bea’s stead, they had leaned on each other in ways they couldn’t do with any of the others. 

“It’s my fault.” Bea mumbled, tear streaks marking her flushed cheeks as slowly they ceased. She was covered in powder, hazelnuts adorned her hair. “Hey, everyone slips sometimes.” Kaspian told her gently. Bea glanced at Kaspian, his words and expression of genuine confusion and kindness seeming to fip some switch in her. Her once dull and tired eyes filled with the smallest amount of humor, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards despite themselves. “No, the torte.” Bea spoke with a subtle giggle, almost imperceptible, as she began wiping her eyes and drying her face. “He never got to make the Hazelnut Torte.” she finished as she brought her hands back to her lap. The light dimmed again, as she remembered why she had been crying to begin with. 

Neve threw a playful scowl at Kaspian who, to his credit, had the sense to look embarrassed. “Thats why youre in here covered in baking powder and hazelnuts.” Neve placed a hand atop Beas head and smoothed her hair down, knocking shells off of her as she did. Bea sniffed, “I was going to make it for him.” Her gorgeous brown eyes filled with tears again, threatening to spill over as she made eye contact with Neve. 

Crack.

The two look over to where the sound of an eggshell breaking came from. In the doorway Kaspian stood, shirtless, with a mixing bowl in one hand, and a split eggshell in the other. “Let’s get cooking, then.” His smile, warm and affectionate, dried the encroaching tears and set Bea to almost giggling again. “You just had to take your shirt off.” Neve drawled, hiding a laugh as she aided Bea to her feet. 

“How else will people know I’m ripped?” Kaspian called from the kitchen where he had already made his way back and had begun whisking the eggs. 

Bea and Neve glanced at each other and shared an eye roll and a heartfelt hand squeeze before linking arms and joining Kaspian. 

~~~~~

Hours later, after a moderately burned hazelnut torte had been shared with crew, after moderately too many glasses had been poured, the three sat, puddled on the long couch in the central room of the lighthouse. Long since left by their colleagues and companions, they teased, and laughed, and in general made merry. As the night wound down, and the yawning began, they began their goodbyes. 

“Thank you.” Bea said softly. She was unused to the kindness, even after so long. She didn't quite have the words to express what it had meant when the two of them had found her. Spiraling is easy. Imagining the what ifs, the why nots, the why hims. Far too easy. The pulling yourself out? The mending and the healing? She found it almost impossible. Gravity only works one way. 

“You are welcome, sweetness.” Neve and Kaspian stood, Kaspian stretching and yawning loudly before leaning down and placing a light kiss on Bea’s forehead. “Anytime, Trouble.” He slurred, still coherent, but certainly inebriated. Neve did much the same, though with less drama, and leaned in to brush her lips over Bea’s cheek. She held the other side of her face in her hand as she said, “If you ever find yourself looking for a different kind of pick me up, Kaspian is very eager to please, and you know I would take care of you.” 

Neve’s nose crinkled in that funny way of hers, a smirk plastered to her face as she pulled away from a blushing and flustered Bea. Bea watched the two circle their arms around each others waists, Kaspian throwing a wink over his shoulder, and begin the walk back to Neve’s office.

As the massive double doors swung shut and Bea was left to her thoughts, the heat in her cheeks only increased. She covered her mouth with her hand, looked all around her to ensure there were no late night wandering witnesses, and dashed off of the couch to follow the two. 

[heartfullofleeches]

I see alien and conspiracy theorist reader who is also hilariously oblivious/ refuses to believe the fact Alien is an alien. Like they're too OBVIOUS about it and it doesn't line up with their theories about what the ACTUAL aliens walking among us are like. Like, it can't be Alien, they don't have crab claws or a lizard tongue or anything. They don't even have a tail rendered invisible by hologram, but Alien doesn't mind when reader grabs their ass to check.

This is exactly where I was going with that-

Alien wouldn't even be in reader's radar for potential suspects. Their frequent insistence they're just a regular human guy is a little suspicious, but no real alien would walk around wearing a mask like his because it'd just draw unwanted attention to them. Writes off their glowy bones as paint. The fact they're more flexible than rubber is just a genetics thing.

Alien thinks it's nice to have some recognize them as human at first - but eventually they start to think how hot cool it would be to be the extraterrestrial reader scraps to a table in their study and grills for hours about their anatomy and the place they originate from.

-

"Did you bring the stuff?"

"Yea, gimme a sec."

Fiddling with the gate to the laboratory, your assistant turns their back to you as they retrieve a small vial from their pocket. Alien pushes the gum they'd been chewing against the wall of their mouth, gathering the saliva collected from their glands on their tongue and filling the bottle with the blackish substance. They grab a bag of white powder from another pocket and dumps it into the small opening. The concoction bubbles, fumes crawling along the cylinders walls as they face you once more. They push you behind them - sealing your body with theirs as they raise their fist.

Hurling the vial, its glass shatters on impact in an explosion of black sludge and white smoke. The slime eats away at padlock holding the gate closed and enough of the wall for you to poke your head through before Alien finally kicks what remains open. They stand off to the side, bowing as they extend their arm forward.

"After you."

Your eyes linger on the smoke wisping into the air. "What... was that?"

"My spit. Mix it with baking soda it becomes corrosive..... or was it acidic?"

"...Right. Well, let's get this over with before anyone arrives. We're lucky this was all this place really has in terms of security." You ease past Alien who skips behind you as you march towards laboratory's doors. Not wasting what little time you have, you pull off your backpack as you walk - removing the test tube brought with you from its protective sleeve. Alien eyes the teal tinted fluid sloshing around in the container curiously - a strange sense of unease hitting their stomach like a brick.

"So.... if I'm allow to ask questions - what uh... what are we doing here again?"

You hold the vial up for then to see - contents fluorescent in the moon light. "I found this strange substance on a tee shirt I left in my bathroom. It's oddly sweet, but left my mouth with a tingle sensation after I tasted it."

Beads of sweat roll from their neck down their shirt. "You... tasted it?"

Alien thinks for a while. They had broken into your house while you were away. They found your shirt in your bathroom. It smelled just like you. Kinda tasted like you too. They thought they cleaned up everything after they were done. They did not.

"Well I had to make sure it wasn't something I ate. This is clearly a sign. Once I get my hands on the microscopes in this lab I'll finally have concrete proof of aliens!"

Alien snatches the vial from you and throws it into the tree-lining. "On second thought let's just go hunting for aliens like normal people."

"What the hell-"

Alien tightly grips your shoulders. "You can have another taste once we're official, but you are not putting my fluids under any lenses until we are engaged!"

[yohohonabottle]

| The "Damoiseau" - Project "Harbringer" I

Sorry for 2nd P.O.V. It's through the eyes of an employee that worked on this experiment with the other Quicksand Claw and Adamant Syndicates. ..Or could be a different person, stumbling onto the aftermath..

Soren's voice is...somehow mellowed out, still a countertenor or mild baritone but it sounds.... calm. Maybe even jovial, if you focus reaaally close on his tone, which is gentle and soft, mesmerizingly so. But so.... just something's off. Not right. ..Maybe the pitch? Or timbre? Cadence? A tiny flickering touch of.. feminine? No, that's not it either. It's a little hard to pinpoint what is it exactly. But this is just too calm, even for him, for his 'silent fury' as his title speaks.

The song is, hypnotizing, ever so very subtly beginning to almost..loose this unnerving calm. It draws, beckons ever closer, promises no more pain. Rest. A lullaby...

And then you get closer, drawn in by the song.. To see Soren,

sat on a rock or piece of camp debris with a very soft, gentle smile of sere tranquility and subtle playfulness like his song, his tone. Maybe even leaning, hunched over as if protecting something.

With a head cleanly cut off of a goon-- Could be a Quicksand claw, a syndicate, a researcher of the low-hanging small fry or the instigators that were in charge of the operation to begin with...held, cradled in his hands, eyes closed. Not the rage, fire, aggression you'd expect to see from him, knowing the bear and his fighting styles. How loud and brash, and short-fused he is, how....nimble, restless he is, always moving--Like how the young Mauler did moments prior to the ritual, pacing in his cage and kicking at the bars. Trying to break the door down, yelling and rattling, looking for a way out.

And he doesn't seem bothered by your presence. No. It's like he knew you'd come, stumble upon him and the signs of destruction.

Desolation, decimation he has brought to this camp all on his own. There's simply no other explanation for all of this, this... Silence. Stillness, not a soul in sight and the camp in shreds, smithereens yet somehow paradoxically untouched with nothing a miss, smashed and broken, ripped or out of place. .....It's like a plague has swept through, over the whole campsite like a powder cloud, avalanche. What happened to those caught up in it is, unknown. As though those people simply disappeared, no sign of them or struggle and combat, no traces. Where are they?

The teenager only keeps singing that lullaby.... Peaceful. Completely peaceful.

....Wait a second, is that.. a spine? A.. thorn? Multiple thorns? Or spears?? Amber...? Or is it fire-like ice? Crystallized, frozen blood? And in them.. silhouettes? Bodies? People trapped inside, frozen? -Or is it just imagination? Fatigue? Are those, small swords around behind his back, a ring...of spines? Their tips point outward- Will- o- the wisps? And did they just glitch?? Turn to ones of blood just now with this 'shutter'??? What are these ever so thin, near invisible threads??! ...Like the threads and sewing needle..

They're gone.

Were they even there at all to begin with.....?

And if he's asleep.. then why does it feel like a thousand glaring eyes gaze at you without blinking, from all sides? The sides, the top, below.... What's with that smile? Why's the Mauler smiling like this-?

Is that white...streaks in his hair, his fur? Did he just flicker--Distort--Glitch??!

The lullaby remains sweetly soothing, not the smallest waver.

But the scrutiny, the judgement doesn't go away. Nor do the chills seeping deep beneath skin and sinew, and bones.

Soren remains as he is, where he is....... The cold is so deep, it burns, beyond teeth-chattering.

Deciding, evaluating... Something.

"You won't live."

What...? It's not even a threat or warning. It's acknowledgement, unfretted.

A simple statement, in that same voice.

The glares, the eyes don't go away, they press down from all around like a cage, and something's taking hold of your limbs, slinking up like a vine-- Fast. He's gone- He's gone- Where did he go-Where's he- A flash, a blink-

-two russet-brown eyes with slitted pupils alight in red glow bore into yours, the smile in them clearer than day, curious shamelessly so as if child-like yet obviously know what he's doing. Flecks of black, light auburn, molten silver in them that shouldn't be, a glitch, nor should they be full red..so dark, that it's like staring into pools of spilt blood. So dark, that they're near black as night, pupils impossible to distinguish, but you know stare at you.

The same serene tone, same calm smile. Not a waver. The words of comfort, consolation a knell.

The song echoes still, but Soren's no longer humming nor singing it aloud...

..It's like someone else hums, sings in his stead, yet the voice and tone is all the same..

"You won't suffer, anymore."

Don't be afraid, It's okay.

It won't hurt.

It's been so long..hasn't it...? The last time you've felt truly at ease, at peace, safe, alive-- free. No burdens, no pains, no fears nor worries, no expectations and pressures...

You've earned it,

Rest.

The project 'Damoiseau', is a success, the two woven together into one. The soul-extraction and binding, infusion complete. Where Soren ends, and where that spirit begins---merged into one mind, one heart, one body, one consciousness....

And, with time, the stitched -sown together conjoined 'twins', will finish melting and molding into one singular.

Total

whole.

The camp slumbers in silence, not a soul in sight.

The price has been paid in full. The transgression accounted for. All parties involved have attained what they've sought.

[razzamachazz]

( * ) owed inbox / starter :  based off this prompt list / Striker had known, at some point or another, he’d get fed up. and this was that moment. nothing is stopping him from literally breaking the fucker’s jaw, claws itching to do so, actually. he doesn’t even remember necessarily what Chaz had said to set him off this much — they were literally in the middle of running away from enemies because of Chaz’s numerous fuck ups. and what did he do to take accountability? what does the idiot do to, at the very least, fix his own shit? the motherfucker makes a joke and laughs while running. 

that was it; that was the moment Striker lost his shit, and thoughts began racing into his mind. with newfound vigor, after rounding the corner, he drags Chaz by the cuff of his wrist ( after much consideration and ultimately not tripping him so that he was immediately killed by the others ) and, almost like one would with a child, essentially haul him over, making sure to slam the shark’s body with intent against the brick wall. the increasing laughter, as if they’re good friends out on a fun adventure. he’d had it with this moron! “are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses out, almost all intention to remain discreet lost. his forearm is slammed against Chaz’s throat with intention to abruptly cut off his breath and, for once, get him to shut up. to get him to understand the gravity of the situation, of who he’s been trying to fuck around with. “The fuck was that shit back there? Ya nearly had us killed, and think it’s funny?! i shoulda left you to get dismembered by those fucks - i can’t keep cleaning up your mess. frankly, i think i oughta kill you right now!” in a flawless movement with his free hand, he grabs his trusted dagger, digging it just ever so on Chaz’s cheek. any small movement would have the steel cut right through the skin. Crimson be damned, he couldn’t take this piece of shit. he leans it just a bit closer, wanting to see the last few moments of his victim’s eyes before they go lifeless ( that’s his favorite part ) and wanting to make sure Chaz knows he means business, “I’m going to give you five seconds,” which was already longer than he’d given most, “to say what you have to say before i cut your throat open.” just to make things fun, knowing the instructions he just provided, he digs his forearm even deeper into Chaz’s throat, making sure he wouldn’t talk without wheezing.

They were tracking down targets, as per usual, but Striker never shared with him the full extent of the plan—if there ever was one. The hitman had a nasty habit of treating Chaz like he was an inept twit unable to tie his own shoes. The shark learned to ignore it. Just like he ignored Striker’s piss-poor reading comprehension so not to damage his companion’s ego, even though he never returned the favor over Chaz’s shortcomings.

He set out on their mission with powder around his nostrils, pregamed for focus and creative stimulation. It also put him in a good fucking mood. Might be that it made him err on the side of clumsiness too because his literal slip-up and stumble gave away their position. Striker seemed unappreciative of the jokes cracked in attempt to ease the tension during their retreat. By the time they rounded the corner, Chaz was brimming with nervous laughter and giddy excitement. He found the chase invigorating and good for the circulation. 

The world spun when Striker grabbed him, and then all the air dispersed out from his lungs as his back collided against a sturdy brick wall. It made him a little lightheaded but the joviality was still there. Striker’s physical aggression and assertive handling wasn't a surprise. It hardly bothered Chaz anymore. But his broad grin faded to a wisp as he was forced into labored breathing. His arms remained down by his sides, allowing Striker to blow off steam by abusing his windpipe. 

“It was kinda funny,” he rasped out a small strangled laugh. Brows furrowed when he caught sight of glinting metal. With the dagger on him, his humor ceased. His expression turned somber, filled with concern and worry, though Striker might mistake it as another form of fear. Only now did he realized just how far he pushed the cowboy on this one. Striker was always angry—always venting out threats that weren't acted on so Chaz developed a blind trust in his buddy. He wouldn't go overboard in his rage. So when Chaz felt the need to apologize, it wasn't to save his own hide. He felt he needed to apologize because he didn't want to lose those ever-so-rare scraps of comradery the two shared. He wanted Striker to like him. 

Chaz was getting ready to speak but the hybrid cut him off by making him choke. Hands raised out of reflex but stopped short of prying Striker’s arm away. They were held up, palms pointed forward, as a sign of surrender. The shark had him beat in size and strength. He could shove him off if he wanted to.. but he didn't.. because he trusted. “Knock it off already,” he wheezed, “We’re friends, aren't we?”

That made Striker pause. Perplexed him enough to lower the dagger... He snapped out of the trance seconds later and returned to full fury. Steel sank through the shark’s torso, right down to the hilt. There was no anguished scream as Striker may have expected. Only a strained grunt and a wet sound of splitting flesh. The noise echoed louder as the blade was slowly drawn out, spilling blood onto the dirt. Chaz’s fingers were drawn to the wound, soaking them in the liquid—as though further confirmation was needed for him to grasp the reality of the situation.

He stared down at his blood-slicked hand with eyes wide, filled with disbelief and a tinge of sorrow. “Why..?” His gaze redirected towards Striker, who also aired confusion. It wasn't a normal response to a stabbing and it left the hitman’s sadistic appetite dolefully unsatisfied. Chaz tried again to find his voice. “Why would you do that?” The words came out flat—death almost—as he was forced to come to terms with a harsh but undeniable truth. His hopes had been irrational. His starvation for friendship led to unreasonable expectations from a man forced to be his colleague. Outside of business, their partnership had always been empty. Meaningless.

Chaz let his lids fall shut while he took a deep breath, sobering himself up by disaffiliating from his thoughts. It wasn't like they were long-time lovers. He could amputate his sentimentality towards Striker like a gangrenous limb and shut himself off if need be. It would be for the best. What his companion would have wanted—to be left alone and unbothered. When Chaz opened his eyes again, his face was void of emotion. Fatigue was setting in, eating down to his bones. “I'll take it more seriously next time,” his tone sounded detached as he stared dead-eyed at the hybrid. A complete personality flip. "It won't happen again."

[abominationvault]

Session 37: Sat 1 Jun, 2024

Where were we? Ah yes, our tank and healer couldn’t be arsed so it’s the rest of us versus a will o wisp, and Skabb (full of leeches) has gone down. She hands control of Hartvig back to his usual pilot, explaining that he is ‘level 1 dusty’. He is annoyed to find all his spells left open. “I have to scroll so far now!”

The will o wisp is invisible. Jorg’ath roll initiative and joins in, rushing in to the outer room and standing briefly on Sprocket. He can get all the way in to the room and jam a potion into Skabb’s mouth - or does he have enough actions? He does! Minor Healing Potion, 1d8, 4hp back. She is now Wounded 1, and it’s her turn.

“Um…?” If it’s immune to most magic, will Detect Magic do much to find it? It will only ping if it’s nearby. She joins her friend the Scaredy Cat Luna behind her chair. (Luna apologises for not being heroic, it’s just she has no idea what’s going on.) Skabb uses her remaining actions to prepare her Magic Missile wand, if she can either see or otherwise sense where it is.

It’s Luna’s turn. She searches her pockets for talcum powder but comes up empty. Would Holy Water do anything? Yeah, nah. It’s an aberration, not undead. She gives Skabb a potion with her last action.

Nadia runs into the room and presses against a wall, ready for next round as there’s not much else she can do, there being nothing to attack.

Sprocket wants to know about the screaming dwarf. (The what? Oh yeah… There is a dwarf strapped to a table in this room, he appears to be being tortured somehow I think?) He tries to help him, but there is some kind of barrier preventing him from getting close. When he encounters this forcefield, he thinks it is linked to the will o wisp. Destroy the wisp, and remove the barrier.

Hartvig comes in to see what’s going on, and heals Skabb at second level with his one remaining action. 2d8 - 9. She’ll take that. “You’ve just doubled my hit points.” Hartvig coughs and some ash comes out; Skabb pockets it.

Jorg’ath is about to go, but there is a thing that happens first. The wisp appears and shoots lightning at Nadia but misses, because her AC is 23 now that she is pressed against the wall. Hah! Skabb’s Magic Missile wand goes off for 4 damage, yeah. Luna shoots her arrow as well, for 8 piercing damage. Nice!

It turns to Jorg’ath to shock him as well, the 27 hits but the 10 doesn’t. 19 damage, ouch. Jorg’ath does a little Rage and crits with his greatsword, then crits the damage as well! And it takes some acid damage, Jorg’ath gets the Howdy Doodis and a Hero Point! He was spinning around with his sword in his hands and cleft it in twain.

Sprocket sees a sickly light that comes through and hits the ceiling - it and the dwarf are both bubbling. Because of the way in which the dwarf is chained to the table, he deduces that the light is destroying and healing him at the same time, leaving him in a perfect balance of agony.

... Yikes.

Would Dispel Magic end his situation, at least for a time? Whatever the source of this magic, he thinks, it’s far more powerful than us. If we cut his binds, we can free him. Sprocket does that. Jorg’ath prepares to remove the dwarf’s head if necessary.

Lasda Venkervale thanks us for freeing him; we ask him how he got into that. About a year ago he was a bartender in Otari. He used to walk to the graveyard every day, but was kidnapped by a mass of writhing leeches…

He asks if we’ve found the torture chamber.

… Could he be more specific? Lasda says he was chosen to be an anchor of something…

Skabb has a question. Since she’s eaten most of the leeches, does this mean the dwarf belongs to her now? What is her intention with the dwarf, the DM wants to know. “Just to keep him.”

Sprocket asks the dwarf how long he’s been here; months, he is told. He has family in town. His mum runs the Rowdy Rockfish; there will be a reward if we get him back to town safely. Okay!

What was he an anchor for, Nadia asks him. The sickly light. It is linked the lighthouse. Does he have any idea what it does? Other than hurt like hell, no. He thinks it wanted his agony. He is not undead like Augie now, but still a living dwarf.

There is a torture chamber nearby, with something scary in it? I think? Wait that was Hartvig’s nearly-girlfriend, right?

(Jorg’ath asks the dwarf if he sings; the dwarf nods. Jorg’ath puts a finger to the dwarf’s lips and says, “Don’t.”)

The creature made of leeches and the fiend are what did this to him. Vaulgrist, that was her. We’ve seen the torture room, we tell him. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Hartvig puts in.

We take the dwarf back to town. As we leave, Sprocket starts singing Blame it on the Boogie.

Being as he is, un-fond of dwarves, Jorg’ath splits off from us and goes to the Crows Cask.

Skabb and Sprocket go to the temple, where Skabb is healed. “I’m all good, I just can’t seem to shake this cough,” Sprocket announces. Skabb gets that weird feeling in her tummy again.

We find the tavern’s owner, Brelda Venkervale, who has been running the place since the last owner, her son, disappeared over a year ago.

(Jorg’ath wants to buy some potions from his crow-wife-to-be.)

Brelda is stunned for a second when we arrive, then there is hugging and crying and all that good shit. After greeting us, and thanking us, she fetches the shield Lasda promised us:

This shield is hardier, and lasts longer, than a regular shield. We give it to Hartvig. (He is briefly overencumbered, but gives his other shield to Augustus.)

We buy potions while we’re in town, and Skabb scuttles off to see if Flashbang has any more tasks for her. We take a rest at Wrin’s while we’re here as well; Skabb crashes with Flashbang and Biscuits.

Jorg’ath wants to have a bar fight, specifically in the Rowdy Rockfish because they’ve never had one there. Nadia and Hartvig are well up for that. We can definitely do one but not this week, the DM tells us. It’ll keep.

Skabb plays a game with Belches; she casts Jump on herself to try and scratch Belches’ belly. She rolls a 27 to Belches’ crit fail 11! (Chariots of Fire, slow mo shot.) She can snatch her out of the sky and land with her in her little hands; she does, and scratches her tummy. “It’s so fluffy I could die,” she announces. This is her best day ever.

“Nasty grabby Skabbins!” Belches shrieks in Sylvan.

Flashbang doesn’t have anything for Skabb yet, she is told.

Nadia wants to start work on Skabb’s frog hat, before it gets any worse. 15 Crafting check, and she has preserved it from further damage and patched up some of the holes. (She hangs on to it, until she can find someone to make some glass eyes to replace the real ones.)

Hartvig sings a traditional Fetchling doom song. (It’s just My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend.)

How benevolent is he feeling today, the DM asks us? There was talk of cloacas earlier which hasn’t helped our case. In spite of this, he tells us that we don’t need to go back in the torture room if we don’t want to. As open-minded as Hartvig is about that sort of thing, he isn’t keen to go back. Last time a lot of his blood fell out.

We go back to where the werewolf sassed us, and sneak as we go. We defeated the barrow wights (Jorg’ath: “The Barry Whites?” DM: “You leave the Walrus of Love out of this.”) so we don’t need to worry about those. We all copy Luna’s homework and Follow the Leader as she sneaks.

Are we bringing long suffering, thrice-dead Grabbins? Yes, and Skabb wants her to sit on her shoulder. We move to the north toward the eerie blue lights. This is the one that flickers. We sneak closer, dodging in and out of the alcoves for cover.

The walls in the octagonal room are carved into a relief of a graveyard. A circular platform sits in the middle, with a large stone on it. The stone is uneven, as if gripped by a giant hand. There are severed hands on the altar as well.

Hartvig, thinking there are fell magicks afoot, does an Occultism check. Skabb sees the objects on the altar are severed hands. There are four of them. Hartvig isn’t sure who the altar is to. Nadia thinks the hands came from four different people, rather than two. They are real severed hands, not carved from stone. (Luna rolls a 6. DM: “Luna, not only do you not know, you couldn’t care less.”)

(Sprocket remembers the Goblin Pox, out of character. The diseased ones roll Con saves; Luna crits. She never even knew she had it. Sprocket rolls a 19, and the DM has to ask Skabb what her Spell Save DC is; she has to look it up. It’s a 20, so Sprocket is still sick but it remains at level 1.)

Nadia is asked to roll a Religion check; she gets a 10. Never mind! Grabby Cat crits her Religion check; she whispers in Skabb’s ear that she thinks it’s dedicated to Nimboloth, the god of Despair, Ghosts and Swamps. She also says those shrines are usually empty of furniture, to symbolise the emptiness of death. Sacrifices kneel at the altar as they are… sacrificed. Hartvig starts writing poetry.

Can we sneak closer? We do, and are told to stop where we are. Uh oh. Everyone but Nadia and Jorg’ath must make Will saves - Skabb and Luna are unaffected, but the others are Frightened 1 - Grabby is Frightened 2. Now that we’re closer, we can sense the entire shrine is infused with a sensation of despair and hopelessness. The four hands start to twitch. (Hartvig: “I think I’ve seen this film.”)

Some stuff appears on the map. The hands start scuttling around, and four creatures slither out from the indentations in the rock. Hartvig checks the ceiling to make sure Jessica Alba isn’t tied up there.

These are Flickerwisps and Elite Crawling Hands… We roll Initiative, but the monsters don’t get a surprise round because we were sneaking, yay!

Hartvig rolls to see if he knows if these things are undead. He’s pretty sure the hands are. They are Aberrations - they’re related to the will o wisp. He also knows they’re immune to the same magic as the will o wisp, but these have a flicker in addition to the shock attack. This flicker is capable of confusing a creature.

He does Needle Darts at the closest hand. He’d hoped to raise his shield but has run out of actions. “There will be no shield-raising for me.” A wisp wafts up to him; he screams. It flickers and forces a Will save. He fails, and it Consumes his Confusion:

Augustus is also Confused, and his Wisp Shocks him, just to add injury to insult. Sprocket: “Oh, wait! Electricity damage?” Augustus is somewhat resistant, but the attack was a crit. It does 29 total damage, which Augustus can ignore 2 of.

The next attacks Skabb, and she fails her save and is Confused, then gets shocked, accompanied by suitable sound effects from the DM. The attack misses!

Another comes for Luna, who also fails her save. It Shocks her and crits, but crit fails the damage. Her tail goes all puffy.

Skabb’s turn, but she is Confused and cannot choose what she does. If she wants to use her Grill of Aberration Bane, she might target Grabby Cat in her confusion. She rolls for it - and hits Grabby. “This has gone from the best day to the worst,” she laments. 4 damage to Grabby, in spite of Skabb saying she has special armour on. Her second attack, she manages to target the wisp but misses. Her third attack is against Grabby again, but misses. Skabb collapses to the floor in ‘some kind of existential crisis’.

Wait… Grabby is Frightened 2, so the attack does hit her. She takes 7 damage.

A hand wafts up to Hartvig and grabs him by the throat. He now struggles to speak, so any spells with a verbal component will take an extra action to cast.

Jorg’ath Does some Damage to a hand. Howdy Doodis! He stabs it and pins it to the ground. He flings a javelin - wait, no, he moved. He gets a Hero Point!

Luna stabs at the wisp in front of her with her rapier, but misses. 22 hits though!

Nadia fires a Tanglefoot bag at a wisp and hits, then retreats to one of the alcoves for cover.

Sprocket is next. He shoots a Phase Bolt at a hand. The DM is delighted to realise that they are both Tiny and Sprocket is, for the first time, fighting something his actual size.

Hartvig is confused but manages to hit the hand, and then the wisp, with his staff - the latter is a crit! 11 damage, nice.

His Wisp Shocks him and crits for 18 damage. “I’m not overburdened with hit points now.” It hits him again, and he’s down to his lucky one. It goes again - and misses. Phew.

The next one goes for Augustus but crit fails, but the next scrapes through.

Another hits Skabb and crits, and she goes down. “Er - bye bye!”

A wisp wafts over to shock Sprocket. 22 hits and he goes down. Another hits Luna, and she goes down as well. This is not looking good, you guys...

Skabb makes a death save - 19, nice. Grabby gets a go, and wants to pour a potion down Skabb’s neck. That’s technically 2 actions, but this has been a shitshow so far so the DM allows it.

He tells us there is something we can do to make this fight easier, and lets us stew on that for a week, and we leave it there. Usually we thank the DM for putting together another game for us for the week, but he tells us that since he’s killed half of us already, we don’t have to. Sprocket: “See you in hell, have a good week!”

[digitaltariq]

Japanese Cheesecake Recipe

TOTAL TIME 1 hour 45 minutes (plus cooling and chilling) There are three kinds of cheesecake generally present in Japan: a baked selection much like New York–fashion cheesecakes; an unbaked model set with gelatin; and soufflé-like Japanese cheesecakes corresponding to this one. The final, typically known as cotton cheesecake, is by far my favourite due to its fluffy texture and refined lemon taste that provides to its lighter-than-air character. I’ve been baking jiggly soufflé cheesecakes my complete life, however I’ve not too long ago revisited my recipe to good it. The important thing to nailing the dessert’s signature texture is within the meringue, which will get folded right into a evenly sweetened cream cheese combination. Whipping the egg whites in a calming bowl protects towards overbeating. Watch carefully while you begin to see mushy peaks kind: The meringue ought to droop ever so barely, like a hook, while you upend the whisk. If the meringue is simply too stiff, you threat deflating the batter by overmixing. (Undermixing is most well-liked—a couple of wisps of unincorporated meringue are completely high-quality.) Rubbing lemon zest into the sugar unlocks the fruit’s aromatic oils and perfumes the batter with vivid taste. And, whereas salt is just not typical of Japanese cheesecake recipes, a small addition right here brings out the citrus much more. You’ll bake the cheesecake in a bain-marie, or sizzling water tub, so as to add steam. This helps regulate the oven temperature, stopping overbaking and cracks. In the event you don’t have a roasting pan, any heavy-duty rectangular baking pan will work—simply be sure that your cake pan matches inside it earlier than you begin. All merchandise featured on Bon Appétit are independently chosen by our editors. Nonetheless, while you purchase one thing by means of the retail hyperlinks under, we earn an affiliate fee. Substances 12 servings ½ Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature Powdered sugar (for pan) 2 Tbsp. plus ⅓ cup (92 g) granulated sugar 1 tsp. finely grated lemon zest ⅓ cup plus 1 Tbsp. (50 g) all-purpose flour 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. cornstarch ½ tsp. Diamond Crystal or ¼ tsp. Morton kosher salt 4 giant eggs, separated 8 oz. cream cheese 1 cup complete milk 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. contemporary lemon juice SPECIAL EQUIPMENT A 9"-diameter springform pan

Preparation

Step 1 Place a rack in center of oven; preheat to 350°. Deliver 10 cups water to a boil in a kettle or medium saucepan and hold heat. Butter backside and sides of springform pan with about half of ½ Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature. Line backside of pan with a parchment paper spherical, then wrap a strip of parchment round sides; it ought to lengthen 1" above the perimeters (like a collar; use 2 sheets for the perimeters in case your parchment is just not lengthy sufficient.) Brush remaining butter on parchment alongside sides to coat (don’t coat the underside). Generously mud sides with a good layer of powdered sugar, tapping out any extra. (Some powdered sugar on the underside is okay.) Tightly cowl outdoors of pan in a number of layers of foil to stop water from seeping in. Step 2 Mix 2 Tbsp. (25 g) granulated sugar and 1 tsp. finely grated lemon zest in a small bowl. Utilizing your fingers, work zest into sugar till sugar begins to clump and combination could be very aromatic, about 1 minute. Set lemon sugar apart. Step 3 Sift ⅓ cup plus 1 Tbsp. (50 g) all-purpose flour and 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. cornstarch right into a medium bowl, then combine in ½ tsp. Diamond Crystal or ¼ tsp. Morton kosher salt. Set dry components apart. Step 4 Place 4 giant egg whites within the bowl of a stand mixer and chill, uncovered. Step 5 Mix 8 oz. cream cheese and 1 cup complete milk in a microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on excessive in 30-second bursts, stirring after every burst, till cream cheese is melted, about 2 minutes whole; whisk till clean. (Alternatively, warmth cream cheese and milk in a small saucepan over low, whisking sometimes, till clean, 5–7 minutes. Switch to a big bowl.) Step 6 Add 4 giant egg yolks and whisk till clean. Add 1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. contemporary lemon juice, reserved lemon sugar, and reserved dry components and whisk once more till clean. Set cream cheese combination apart. Step 7 Take away bowl with egg whites from the fridge and match onto a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment. Beat on medium pace till egg whites are foamy and opaque, about 1 minute. Add about one third (a scant 2 Tbsp.) of remaining ⅓ cup (67 g) granulated sugar and beat, scraping down sides of bowl as wanted, till sugar is dissolved and combination is frothy (like the highest of a latte), 1–2 minutes. Add half of remaining sugar (one other scant 2 Tbsp.) and proceed beating till sugar is dissolved and combination is fluffy, 1–2 minutes. Add remaining sugar and beat till sugar is dissolved and meringue is shiny and thick and holds medium peaks (it ought to look marshmallowy), about 2 minutes. Step 8 Add about one fourth of meringue to reserved cream cheese combination and blend with a rubber spatula till mixed. Add one third of remaining meringue and gently fold in, attempting your greatest to keep away from deflating meringue and overmixing. Add remaining meringue in two extra batches, gently folding till simply included after every addition. Scrape batter into ready pan. (If there are any giant air bubbles on the floor, pop with a toothpick.) Step 9 Place pan inside of a giant, deep roasting pan and switch to oven. Rigorously pour boiling water into roasting pan to return midway up sides of springform pan. Bake cheesecake till deep golden brown on high and a tester inserted into the center comes out clear, 60–70 minutes. Step 10 Flip off oven and crack door open. (In case your oven door gained’t keep ajar, use a picket spoon to prop it open.) Let cheesecake sit in oven (precisely) 10 minutes, then take away from water tub and switch to a wire rack. Take away foil and let cheesecake cool in springform pan, about 1 hour. Switch cheesecake to fridge and chill till chilly, about 2 hours. Step 11 When able to serve, take away sides from pan and peel parchment paper away from sides of cheesecake. Slice, peel parchment away from backside, and switch to plates.   Read the full article

[seriowan]

baby talks - dad!rex x mom!f!reader (victory au)

main masterlist

⭒ summary: in a perfect galaxy far, far away, you wake up one night to come across a precious moment between your husband and your tiny little baby girl. somehow, you find a way to fall in love all over again with just a smile and a little baby's giggle. ⭒ word count: 1.3k ⭒ pairing: dad!rex x f!reader ⭒ cw/tw: tooth-rotting fluff, brief mention of childbirth, parenting, motherhood, talk about having more children, republic victory au ⭒ a/n: i have baby fever. that's it. that's the explanation. this is also 100% self indulgent and rex probably wouldn't do half the shit i wrote in here but I. WILL. KEEP. DREAMING. OF. DAD REX. UNTIL. I. DIE.

-

The bed was empty when you woke. Warm yet vacant sheets greeted your hand when you threw it on the opposite side of the bed. Raising your head at the absence, you paused to listen, craning your ear towards the open door to the bedroom. 

  You were met with silence. Pushing aside the blankets, you kicked your legs over the edge and slipped your feet through your blue slippers, reaching for the navy robe draped over Rex’s reading chair.

Tightening it around your body, you carefully walked out of the room, gentle feet padding silently down the carpeted halls until you stopped outside of a familiar door scented of vanilla and baby powder. It was cracked open just enough for you to hear a familiar voice, deep and rich and spoken in a loving tone.

   “That’s it, cyar’ika. Shhhh. No more tears.” 

   You bit your lip, stifling a smile as you peeked through the doorway. 

   It took every ounce of will to refrain from melting on the spot. Rex, bare chested with plaid pajama pants, lay flat on the ground with your little swaddled baby against his chest. One hand softly rubbed her back while the other playfully pat her bottom to the rhythm of the tune that he was humming. Your daughter, barely a few months old, could barely raise her own head as she toothlessly nibbled on her clenched fist. Rex thumbed away the drool on her chin, gently pinching her rosy cheeks with a dimpled smile on his face.

   “Stop doing that,” he chastised softly, slipping his finger in between her tightly clenched fists. He hummed, pressing her knuckles against his lips as he mumbled,  “Mama’s got to cut your nails. You’re scratching yourself. Heh, means you’ve got a little fighter in you. Just like your uncles, huh?” 

   Your daughter made a whining noise, sputtering past drooled lips. Big golden eyes blinked at Rex before her lips twitched into a small smile, full of childlike bliss that softened your heart in an instant. The lump in your throat was hard to swallow but you remained silent, leaning against the doorway as you continued watching in secret. 

   Rex chuckled warmly when she placed her ear against his chest, giggling as he kissed her small fingertips and blew the soft raspberries into her palm. She let go of his thick finger, sleepily rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before glancing right towards you and smiling. 

   “You can come out now. Your cover’s blown.” 

   You laughed softly, slipping into the nursery just to lay down on the floor besides him. Adoration burned in his eyes as you nestled closely to his side, settling your temple against his shoulder while your finger curled the wisp of hair atop your daughter’s head. She turned to you and smiled as if happier by your presence. 

   “She’s just like you,” you murmured, kissing Rex’s shoulder. “Intuitive. Perceptive.” 

   “Stubborn,” he added with a frown, unfurling the baby’s clenched fists yet again. “And why is she so smiley? She didn’t get that from me or you.” 

   You arched a brow, tipping your chin to give him a pointed look. “No, that’s definitely you. Fives is your brother, not mine.” 

   “Technically-” He grasped your hand and raised it, flashing the silver wedding band on your ring finger. “He is your brother through marriage. But you have a point. She certainly has his humor.” 

   “Speaking of, is he coming by?” You traced circles on the baby’s back, earning a hiccup that made Rex beam as if she had won an award. “He promised to babysit while we go on our date.” 

   Rex cleared his throat with uncertainty, caressing a large palm over your daughter’s small head. He paused before turning to you with an apologetic expression. “I was thinking we go out to dinner tomorrow. I just… I-I don’t want to leave her with Fives - you know how short his attention span is. Besides, Baby’s just a newborn and I… I can’t just leave her.” 

   You arched a brow, lips curling into a sly smirk. “You’re obsessed, aren’t you.” 

   Though he rolled his eyes, Rex didn’t deny the claim as he looked back at your daughter and smiled fondly. 

   “Yeah,” he admitted proudly, poking the nose that mirrored his own. She blinked, drooled, and made a few whines before setting her head on his chest and heartily beating it with a teeny tiny fist. Rex looked ready to burst with love - cheeks flushed red, eyes wide and sparkling like he just discovered something so utterly magnificent. He curtly sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know how we’re supposed to watch her grow. I just… She’s so… small… And then she’ll be big.. I didn’t think…I never thought…” 

   “Rex,” you said firmly, causing his lips to shut and his eyes to dart to yours. You saw the worry and frowned, cupping the side of his face, thumb running over the scar on his cheekbone. “It’s okay. We’re here now. You don’t have to think about the things that you didn’t think you’d have because now, you actually have them. Freedom, a family, a baby. The war’s over and we don’t have to worry about dying in battles or spending months apart. We have all the time in the galaxy to watch her grow and thrive with the love of her uncles and family. Let’s just take this one day at a time, ok? Don’t worry about the future now, or you’ll miss her best years.” 

   You touched your baby’s ear, tracing the outline that felt so, so small against your fingertip. Rex shrugged down the carpet and shifted, rolling onto his side to place his tiny twin between your chests. You both propped yourselves up on your arms, temples to your palms as you watched her kick her feet and tiny hands, making small squeaks and grunts. 

   You both shared a laugh. She truly was a fighter just like her father. 

   Attentive on your little baby, you didn’t notice Rex looking at you until you caught a flash of gold in the corner of your eyes. You raised your head, face softening when you saw the same look of love on his face that he wore when he proposed; when you walked down the aisle; when you took his hand after childbirth and told him you loved him through tears of relief. 

   And every single time he gave you this look, you fell in love all over again. 

   …Until you noticed the slight touch of mischief that twitched the corner of his lip. 

   Your face suddenly fell, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare ask what I think you’re going to ask.” 

   He sheepishly looked down at the little baby with her blonde tuft of hair and curled a thread of hair upwards. The single strand made you laugh but you were still waiting for Rex to say with flushed cheeks and puppy-dog eyes…   “Another one can’t hurt…” 

   You waited a moment before rolling your eyes and glancing at your grinning little girl. 

   “Hear that, baby? Daddy wants to replace you already-” 

   Rex scoffed and playfully nudged you away with a large hand to your face. You laughed against his palm, biting the skin before he could pull his hand back and faux glare. He turned his head to the little angel that peered up between you two with big eyes and pointed an accusing finger at her, deadpanning with a straight face, “Don’t you dare be like your mother. I’ll send you to bootcamp.” 

   You gasped, gently picking her up to place her tummy on your chest. Her small head wobbled as she shakily moved her head, but she held your gaze with a smile on her lips as you said, “He just wants someone to talk to about serious stuff and serious things. Mommy’s the fun one, isn’t she, precious?” 

   Rex’s grin became wolfish, eyes flashing with a brilliant playfulness. 

   “I can be fun,” he growled before leaning his head in the crook of your neck, blowing the largest raspberry that sent tingles down your spine. You howled out with laughter, causing your baby to mimic it from pure delight, eyes flickering back and forth between her parents. You caught the strange look of understanding in the small baby’s face and looked at Rex, arching your brow. 

   “Maybe another one wouldn’t hurt.” 

-

tagging moots who might like this <3

@rexxdjarin @eloquentmoon @a-c-lee @frietiemeloen @misogirl828 @leotatombs @corona-one @pinkiemme

[selvie-blue]

David's New Friends

David Bishop is a husky, bearish guy. He has a slightly shaggy head of hair. It is very short, but the front of it wisps up in tuffs and the rest of it covers his entire head in a thick layer of dark brown. His eye brows are somewhat bushy, but finely shaped at the same time and perfectly balance out his eyes that are slightly sunken in and have this brute kind of appearance and pupils surrounded by a copper tone that shine, the same kind of shine you'd see from pennies shimmering at the bottom of a wishing well. He has a nice, thick, beard that is cropped just right and covers the entire bottom of his face and is perfectly lined past his jaw-line. His physique is far from muscular. Definitely more of the teddy-bear variety. At least everyone that's dated him has said that.

Today, David has on a knitted vest that has thick, vertical lines of brown and white over top a bright yellow, long-sleeved buttoned-down shirt with the collar folded over the top of that. And he is wearing his faded blue jeans that kind of hugs his bottom figure. Not too much, just enough to showcase his husky physique and one could plainly see that, for a guy with bulk, he has a nicely shaped ass. And he has on his black-and-white sneakers.

He is walking out in the city. He usually walks with his headphones on and sometimes, does it just to walk. Right now, though, he has a mission. He must go to the grocery store and pick up some cake for his friend’s birthday party. Another friend of his made him swear that it looks like a cake she made. But that was Steph.

As he's making his way forward, he sees a group of young guys that look like they're in their mid-to-late 20s. They look familiar. In a way that gives him a little chill. He thinks they're that gang that's been making trouble around the area. Well, “gang” isn't really the right word. They haven't killed anyone, just made things a little more difficult for some people. You don't really get gangs out here.

He's just gonna keep looking down. They're getting closer. Maybe he'll smile and nod.

They're all dressed up in leather jackets and jeans and have this kind of immature appearance. Like they just wanna make trouble. But David shouldn't judge.

He then nods and smirks at one of them. A guy with jet-black hair that's kind of swoopy and powder blue eyes and a chiseled face. Not a bad lookin' dude. In fact, they're all rather attractive gents. The main guy, at least that's what he looks like to David, the one with blue eyes, is wearing a wearing a black top. Much like the one you'd see in a certain late-seventies musical. The guy nods back and then lifts up his hand and points at his headphones while saying something, making a genuine look of interest.

He really shouldn't, but against his better judgment, he takes out one of his headphones and says “Huh?” in a kind of playful, innocent way to make him look more approachable.

“Whatcha listenin' to?”

“Um, I think it's one of the latest top 40s. It's just one of those poppy kind of days, ya know?” David says, laughing a bit, but there is a slight nervousness hiding underneath his voice.

The guy isn't shy about showing a devilish grin. He wants something, David knows it.

And the rest of his little gang look on at him.

“Nice phone,” one of 'em says.

“Thanks,” he says.

“So, uh, where you headed?”

“I'm going to get a cake. But it has to be soon.”

“Man's in a rush,” one of 'em says.

“Yeah,” another chimes in.

The main guy looks at him and says, “I get it, you gotta get goin', right?” He asks it more like a genuine question.

The other guys start walking around him, forming a circle. This . . . isn't good. And shit, not a lot of people are out today. It's mid-Sunday and some cars and people go by, but they all seem to be just out of reach of David.

He walks forward, expecting them to let him pass,

“Hey,” another guy says, this one wearing a leather cap. It's like these guys stepped out of the Fifties. He almost wants to ask how'd they feel about being the remaining extras from “Happy Days,” but decides against it. “I know you gotta split, but, we wanna talk.”

“I'm sorry?” David said as his heart starts beating quickly.

“We saw you from round the corner and we thought, hey.”

“Now there's a guy that seems like he could be fun. You got this real cool vibe about you, bro,” one of the other guys say.

“Look, guys, I gotta go...”

He tries to walk forward again and then the main guy yells, “Hey! Don't you know it's kind of rude to walk away. Now, I feel hurt,” he says, smugly, as he puts out both his hands, kind of like he's saying, 'c'mon, man.

“I'm, ugh, I'm sorry.”

“Well, now, we can't let you leave . . . yet.”

“Oh, c'mon guys, I gotta go,” David says, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“You don't really wanna leave this circle, guy.”

As one of the guys says this, he takes a good look around. He is definitely outnumbered. He could call the police, but one of 'em could simply knock the phone out of his hand.

He's getting antsy and nervous. “Okay, um, look, I'm sorry, okay?”

“Yeah, we know,” the main guy says. “I'm sorry, brother, what's your name?” he asks quickly, as if he's expecting an answer just as quick.

“David.”

“Well . . . David, you gotta pay a price, not just apologize. We gotta know you really mean it. Don't worry, you can keep your phone, but can you put it down please?”

“I can just put it in my pocket.”

“Just put it down on the ground, man,” one of the other guys say behind him.

He bends down and puts his phone on the ground and gets back up. Meanwhile, he's getting more and more afraid.

“Now, about this price,” the main guy says. “One of my boys over there has a real sad story.”

“It's sad, man,” one of 'em says behind him, almost tauntingly.

“His friend lost his favorite pair of shoes. They really mean a lot to him.”

“Yeah, like, a lot,” one of 'em to the left of David says.

“Okay, what do you want from me?”

There's silence as he looks at David, almost like he's feeling that David should know what he's about to ask. Then says, “Can we have yours?”

“I'm sorry?”

“You don't want to disappoint us, now. Do ya . . . David?” one of the other guys say as he looks at him while tilting his head and giving him this playfully evil look of curiosity.

Not enough people. Where the hell is everyone?

David sighs. “O-okay.”

He bends down and starts untying one.

“Take your time, David,” the main guy says. “We got all day.”

“But he doesn't, man,” one of the other guys say.

“Yeah, dude, don't you listen?” They all then laugh like they're sharing an inside joke.

He takes one shoe off and then unlaces the other one, quickly. He wants to get out of here. He takes the other one off and hands it to the main guy.

“Thank you, David, that was kind of you.”

“You're welcome.”

The main guy has this expression of feigned concern as he looks past David.

David looks at what the main guy is looking at. And it's the dude whose friend needed David's shoes. He has his hand over his mouth and is looking down at the ground while shaking his head.

“What's the matter, man?”

“I mean,” the guy says, “The shoes are great and everything, but he's gonna need socks to go with 'em.”

“But your friend has socks, man,” one of the others say.

“Yeah, I know, but these were very special shoes, man. My friend needs them to go in a pair.”

The main guy looks at David and tilts his head at him.

“I'm sorry to be such a bother, but,” he glimpses down at his feet, “do you mind?”

David hesitantly bends down again and takes off both his socks and then gives them to the main guy.

“Okay, guys, I, ugh, I gotta go, now.”

“Yeah, we know, man, you keep saying that,” one of the other guys say.

There's a slight chuckle among the group.

“Well, we certainly don't wanna stop you,” one of the guys say.

“Yeah, really,” one of the others say.

“Hey,” one of 'em chimes in. This guy, David hasn't heard from, yet. “That's a real nice vest, man.”

“Ugh-h-h-h, thanks,” David says, looking down at it then back up at him.

“Where'd you get it?”

“You can find this online. There's a shop around the corner.”

This guy puts his fingers to his chin and then goes, “Huh,” while eyeing the vest. “Huh, huh, huh”

David doesn't like where this is going.

“Well, that one specifically, looks great, and it's just my size, too.”

“Yeah, man,” another says. “It'd look nice on you.”

“And, hey, I can buy it, but we're buds, right, David? Pals,” the guy asking about the vest says. “I mean, I feel we've become close to you,” he says as he clasps his heart with both hands and nods his head, really playing it up.

“So-o-o-o?”

“Oh, I feel like such a heel asking, but,” he stops for a second, forming this questioning, cautious face. “Can I have yours, bro?”

He looks around again. Again, not enough people. And all these guys look like they could pounce on poor David any second.

He then leans his hands towards his vest and takes them away, not sure if he should. He holds onto the bottom of the vest, still deciding. Then, pulls it up over his head and hands it to the guy.

They all start clapping, while saying things like, “Good sport, David,” “Way to go,” “We knew we'd like you.”

The guy takes it from him and looks at it while giving it this approving look. “Good man, David.”

“Okay, ugh, I . . . gotta go, um, guys. Anything else?”

Why did he just ask that?

“Cool belt buckle,” another guy says. “Is it attached to the belt?”

“Um, no, they're, uh, separate,” David answers.

“Nice, really nice. But, I'm sure they go best together, right?” the guy asks.

David looks over to the guy and says, “Well, um, you don't really need 'em together.”

“I know that, David. But, you seem to have a really good sense of style. You just got it together, man.”

“Yeah,” another says. “We could learn a thing or two from our friend David, here.”

“I mean, you just got the right color,” the guy asking about the belt says, “ya know.” He adds those last two words in a tone that seems suggestive as he gives David this imposing look.

“Um, yeah.”

“So?” the guy says, lifting up his hand waiting for David to finish his sentence.

“So-o-o-o-o-o,” David says, his heart beating faster, now.

The guy looks down at the belt and the buckle and then back at him.

“You-u-u-u-u-u want 'em?” David asks.

“Wow!” the guy says, “you are very perceptive.”

David takes off the buckle and then unfastens his belt while the guy says, “Really, David, thank you. This means a lot, man. Won't forget it, seriously.”

David slowly pulls out the belt from the loops of his pants and then walks over and gives it to him. This is his chance. He could make a run for it. But the other guys look at him like they know what he's thinking.

“You naughty boy, David,” one of the guys looking at him says. “You were thinking of leaving us, huh?”

“Ugh, no. Not at all.”

The guy frowns by pushing out his lower lip.

“And leave your phone behind? Not smart, man.”

David nods and backs up. But the guy that was frowning at him puts his hand up and says, “Wait. Wa-a-a-a-ait, wait, wait, wait.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I thought of a way you could make it up to me.”

“Um, okay, how?”

The guy is looking up and down at David's yellow shirt. David looks down at the shirt and then back up at him. They won't possibly ask for that, David thinks. What do these guys wanna do?

The guy eyeing David's shirt taps his finger to his lips and goes, “hm-m-m-m-m-m-m. You just got a really good sense of style, David. I mean, really. And that is an awesome shirt, man.”

“It is, though,” one of the other guys say.

“I mean, how do you throw this stuff together?”

“Um, I don't know. I just get dressed like all of you.”

They all laugh.

“Yeah, we all get dressed.”

“Just like we all undress,” one of the other guys say.

He doesn't like that that other comment was added. God, why did they say that? What's they're end goal, here? That, David shudders to think.

“I'm sorry, dude, I know we're askin' a lot of you, but, ugh, can I have your shirt, man?”

“What?” David says, laughing nervously.

“Your shirt. You really don't wanna make me ask again, do you, David?”

David looks at the guy and at the ground a few times as he slowly brings up his hands and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Atta boy, David,” one of the other guys say.

He reveals the under shirt. A white tank-top with his thick chest hair above it. He pulls his shirt up out of his pants and unbuttons the cuffs before removing it, completely, and giving it to him. Now, more of David's body is seen. His nipples are easily outlined and his pecs hang through the shirt like nice, thick chucks of meat. And anyone can plainly see, now, David is quite a hairy guy.

“Wow, dude, thank you.”

“I don't know, man,” one of the other guys say.

“What?” the guy that took David's shirt says.

“I mean, like you said, David has a nice sense of style. And only he would know you gotta wear that white undershirt underneath that yellow shirt.”

“Yeah, man,” another guy says. “It really pulls the whole outfit together.”

“Okay, guys, really.”

“What, David?” the guy that took his shirt says with fake concern. “I mean, you know they're right, right?”

David looks around and reluctantly nods.

“So, I think you know what I'm gonna ask, David,” he says.

David nervously looks down at his tank top and then around the street.

“What, David? It's not a bad thing to help your friends,” the guy holding the shirt says. “And anyone that walks past can see that.”

Nervously, David curves his fingers at the bottom of the undershirt and pulls up. Unveiling a stomach and chest that are completely covered in hair. There's even this thicker line of hair that traces underneath his meaty pecs and then meets at a happy trail that's going all the way down his stomach and into his jeans.

David gives the guy his undershirt.

“Great.”

“Well, gents,” the main guy said. “I think we should get going, yeah?”

Internally, David has a big sigh of relief. He'll look funny without a shirt and shoes, but at least he won't have less than that.

“Yeah,” another guys says. “David's gotta get goin', right?”

David nods his head as this big smile that practically swallows his face.

David is about to reach for his phone.

“Oh, wait, man,” one of the other guys says.

David stops. His heart literally jumps.

“What?” the main guy says.

“We got that party tonight, man.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Um, what did you say, bro? You, um, you wearin' those jeans, right?”

David still is bent down reaching for his phone. Not sure if he should or not.

The guy clicks his tongue and says, “I don't know, man. I mean, these jeans haven't been washed in a few days.”

“Well, you got other pairs, right, bro?” another of 'em asks.

“You know what, you're right,” the guy responds.

David continues to lean for his phone.

“Wait, bro,” another guy says, “Didn't you say that your girlfriend is borrowing your pair of jeans?”

“Oh, that's ri-i-i-i-i-ight. She is.”

“Well, did you have another pair?”

“I don't know, man.”

David's heart starts pounding again. This red begins to flush out his cheeks.

“I mean, I got my other pairs, but none of 'em really have that look, ya know? I mean, like, our friend, David, here, right? I mean, man, just look at those jeans.”

“Yeah, man,” another dude says. “You gotta admit, David really knows how to pick 'em.”

“Hey, where'd you get those jeans, David?”

He quickly turns around and looks up at the guy. “Um, online,” he says, almost breathlessly. “I mean, really, you can find 'em anywhere. Really, you can.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. You're smart, David.”

“Great.”

David's about to turn around when he notices the guy is putting fingers to his chin. “Bu-u-u-u-u-u-ut, I mean, I don't think they're gonna have your touch, David.”

“Yeah, dude. Only you can rock a pair a jeans like that, bro”

“For sure.”

“I mean,” David says, “you, you don't want mine.”

The guy asking about his jeans gives him this look like a light bulb went off above his head. “Actually, now that you mention it, David.”

“Oh, c'mon, man, you don't want my pants.”

“You're right, you're right.”

“When he's right, he's right,” another guy says.

“But, dude, this is David we're talking about here,” the main guy says. “I mean, look at what all he's given us. He's a really selfless guy.”

The guy asking about the pants squints his eyes and shakes his finger at the main guy. “You do have a point, man.”

“Oh, c'mon guys, seriously?” David asks, almost exclaiming it.

“David, calm down, man,” he says. “We're not gonna have you do anything that is gonna make you feel uncomfortable,” he adds.

“Yeah,” another guy says.

“Although, sometimes, we just gotta be pushed.”

“He's right,” the guy says, eyeing his pants. “Be a pal, David. Can I have your jeans?”

David twiddles his fingers and bobs back and forth. He nervously smiles and reaches for the button of his pants and slowly begins to slide it out of place. This is followed by him pulling his zipper down. The very sound of it is making David shudder. He then pulls his jeans down, exposing his white underwear, and thick legs. He pulls his feet out of them, one at a time, and then hands them to the guy.

David walks backward while covering his crotch.

“David, you seem like a proud guy,” another guy says.

“I g-guess.”

“Then why you standing like that, bro? Pull your back up.”

David stands up.

“There ya go. And put your hands to your sides. That's how real confident men stand.”

“Yeah, dude, I read that in an article.”

David looks down and up a few times and then cautiously puts his hands to his sides, pushing his very hairy chest and belly forward. He is now in his underwear in the middle of the street.

“Oh, you're wallet, dude,” the guy says.

“Yeah, we're not thieves, David.”

The guy pulls David's wallet out and then brings it over.

As David takes his wallet from the guy, he tilts his head and goes, “Huh.”

David doesn't like this. What the guy is looking at is David's underwear.

“Man, that's a nice pattern on your underwear, dude.”

“Um, thanks,” David says, quickly, taking the wallet.

“I mean, they're just white underwear, but I think we've learned by now, no one does it like David,” the main guy says.

“Hey, dude, what's your underwear drawer look like?” the main guy asks one of the other guys.

The other guy seethes in air through his teeth and says, “It's lookin' pretty slim, man. I mean, I got a lot of colors, but not your typical tighty whities like David here,” the guy says pointing at David's last remaining piece of clothing.

David starts breathing hard.

“David, you okay, bro?” the guy pointing at his underwear said.

“Um, yeah.”

“Hey, ya know,” another guy says. “I heard somewhere that there's a kind of meditation.”

“What kind of meditation?” another guy asks in that feigned curiosity.

“Well, you see, you're calm, you're collected, and it works.”

“Really?” one the guys say.

“Yeah,” the guy that brought up the meditation says. “Exce-e-e-e-ept, you gotta be wearing a bit less than David over here.”

David looks at him, quickly.

“It's, it's okay, man.”

“David, you're our friend man,” another guy says.

“And friends know when friends are in trouble.”

“Yeah, we care, David. Really, we do, and you need to de-stress.”

“It's um, it's okay, really. I'm, I'm calm,” David says.

“Man, you are just screaming for help and you don't even know it,” one of 'em says.

“Okay, look,” the main guy says. “You should really try it. I mean, you don't wanna disappoint, us, do you?”

“Yeah, dude. You won't like how that ends,” one of 'em says as they close in on him.

David's breathing becomes a bit heavier as he notices the guys are walking closer towards him, tightening up the circle, almost breathing on him.

“Really, David, we're doing this because we care,” one of 'em says, all looking at David with a bit more menace hidden underneath their sarcastic expressions.

David has his hands at his crotch again.

“David, I thought we talked about this,” the main guy says, eyeing David's hands.

David removes his hands from his crotch and stands at attention.

“Great, now, I don't wanna see that back slump and I don't wanna see those hands anywhere else but at your sides,” the main guy says. “Okay, David? Or we're gonna have to,” he squints his eyes cautiously. “Or we're gonna have to get violent.”

David nods.

“Okay, now,” the main guy says, putting his hands on his shoulders, “Just calm down. Keep calm, okay, David?”

David nods his head again.

“Now, close your eyes.”

David doesn't like this.

“Close . . . your . . . eyes, David” the main guy says more threateningly.

David closes his eyes.

“Now just think of the ocean. Are you thinking of it, David?” the main guy asks as David still feels his hands on his arms.

David nods.

“Good. Keep thinking of that, okay? Just keep thinking of the waves going ba-a-a-a-ack and fo-o-o-o-orth.”

As the main guy is talking, he feels another pair of hands on his underwear. And feels them pry into his waist band.

Then feels the main guy take his right hand of his arm and put it over his heart. It's beating very fast.

“Just think of sound of the wa-a-a-aves,” the main guy almost whispers.

The prying fingers are now pulling at his underwear.

“Just think of the clouds and the bi-i-i-i-irds. Are you picturing it, David?”

David nods quickly, as he feels the very thing he doesn't want to feel. His underwear is beginning to be pulled down.

Instinctively, David reaches for his dick.

“David, keep your hands at your God-damn sides, all right?” the main guy says as he feels all the other guys breathing on him.

David nods his head, keeping his eyes closed.

The air is starting to kiss his butt, now, while he can feel his pubic hairs unfurling from the stress of the waist band being pulled away from them.

“I'm sorry I had to get a little mean,” the main guy says.

His shaft is now trembling a little bit from the waistband of his underwear rubbing his dick as it's slowly being exposed.

“Now,” the main guy says, keeping his hand on his heart. “Just keep picturing the beach.”

His prick now flops up, slightly, as it now has completely escaped his underwear. His whole ass is now shown. They're like 2 soft boulders. Smooth and rounded just like the moon. With a little bit of hair over them.

“Listen to those wa-a-a-aves, David.”

His underwear is now being pulled all the way down his legs and he can feel the pair of hands pressing against his feet. Reluctantly, David lifts them one at a time. And now, his last shred of clothing has been taken away. His cock hangs like a meaty twig from the thick curls of pubic hair and his balls are perfectly rounded into a pair shape behind his dick. He's completely naked in the middle of the street.

David still has his eyes closed, and he can feel the main guy's hand pull away from his heart and then feels his fingers trace the hairs all the way down his stomach.

“Keep thinking of those waives, David.,” the main guy whispers. He can still feel the body heat of the other guys tightly closed around him.

The main guy plays with David's pubic hair, and then his hand caresses his dick.

“Woooooshhhhh,” the main guy says.

David can feel the skin of his dick being pulled forward and pushed back. Slow at first, then faster. The hand now squeezing his prick a little bit tighter. David feels another hand start to softly caress his nuts. And then two other pairs of fingers delicately trace the hair around his nipples.

David's breathing is getting faster as he starts to feel lips over top one of his ears. Kissing it gently. The nerves on David's ear lobe are tingling underneath the weight of very gentle breath and lips.

David's nipples are beginning to grow sensitive and becoming erect, just like his dick in the main guy's hand.

“Just think of the ocean,” the main guy says as his breath is nearing David's mouth and he feels the main guy's lips over his. David intertwines his lips with the other guy's. Their tongues sliding over each other.

He feels other pairs of hands lift his arms up a bit and fingers start delicately tickling the hairs under his armpits, causing the skin around them to shiver.

David's dick is growing quick now as the shaft is gasping over the head, making the slit start to get wet with pre-cum. Hands and lips all over his body. And he finds himself moaning. His stomach beginning to shudder as his penis is starting to throb in through his veins, now, underneath the grip of the main guy's hand.

“C'mon, David,” the main guy says as he's still kissing David. “C'mon, baby.” As the small little hairs on his ear lobe are standing on end, reaching up into warm breath and a gentle pair of lips. As his arm pits are shuddering as fingers continue to ever-so-gently tickle them. His entire body is being made to quiver. His legs begin to tremble as semen swells up in his balls still being caressed and screaming out through the shaft. The main guy's hand continues to go back and forth. Going faster, now. Until his dick can't take it. Like a squirt gun, it shoots strands of cum into the main guy's hand. David moans and shudders as his dick continues to jump up in the main guy's hand.

David leans his head on the main guy's shoulder as his body shakes. The last strands of semen ooze out of David's still twitching cock.

“That's right,” the main guy whispers. “That's right.”

The slowly pull away from David as the main guy says, “Keep your eyes closed, David.”

David shudders through the last bit of spasms in his dick.

“I'm putting your phone and your wallet in a bag,” the main guy says as he feels several pairs of hands firmly hold his arms and then force them behind his back. He feels what must be hand cuffs go around his wrists.

“Wait, wait, don't do this,” David says.

“Sh-h-h-h-h, keep those eyes closed, David.”

He hears the cuffs lock around his wrists and then what feels like a string is placed around one of his fingers, must be the bag.

“Guys, wait!” David says.

“Keep those eyes closed for a good minute, David,” he hears the main guy say. He also hears him and his boys walk away.

“Wait! Guys, wait, please!” David says, keeping his eyes closed

He then opens his eyes and looks behind him to see the whole gang run away with every stitch of clothing he had on. And now his meaty, hairy body and dick still dripping semen and firm, full butt bouncing a little from side to side as he quickly paces his legs back and forth is all on full display. And he has no way to cover himself. He has no choice but to walk home with every part of his body fully exposed.

[swordluck]

Fire had always been foreign to her.  A furtive thing, coaxed to life in the cathedral’s grates – something to be fed, prodded, sustained.  It had been an instrument of illumination, of destruction, of wonder.

As Laurentius conjured that delicate bead of flame, she found herself transfixed.  It danced over his fingers like a living thing, weightless and bright, a wisp of molten gold against the ashen air.  It was almost unbearably beautiful.

And then he spoke, likening his craft to a conversation, to understanding, to her – and she felt it, warmth unfurling in her chest.  She had not known she could be seen in such a way.  That all her shattered pieces, gathered and reassembled, could be regarded not as broken, but as something worthy of celebration, of love.

Lips brushed hers, woodsmoke-soft, fleeting as the touch of a drifting spark, and when Laurentius pulled back, it was to rest his forehead against hers.  Anri’s eyes fluttered shut as the flame dissipated, vanishing into the void – but its pebbled warmth remained, curling into the hollow spaces where doubt and fear had nested like dark-winged birds.

Anri exhaled slowly, as though releasing something long held in the cage of her ribs.  Then, with every shred of the gentleness she possessed, she reached for his hand.  Her fingers curled around his, calloused against calloused, a knight’s grip, tender in its insistence.  She did not pull, only guided.  An invitation, not a demand.

Together, they sank to the pallid and wind-scored ground, where the sand was greyed with the ghosts of a thousand cinders, the remnants of old pyres.  It crumbled beneath them, fine as powdered bone, clinging to the folds of armour and cloth alike, settling into the lines of their palms like relic dust.

A cradle of life and death.  She let herself sit with it.  With him.

“You have the heart of a poet,” she murmured, her voice shaped by the touched smile that dressed her lips.

Laurentius had spoken of pyromancy as a conversation – an understanding between the caster and the world.  A give and take, as simple and immutable as the lake tide meeting the shore.  Was that not what he had done with her, too?  He had found what remained in her, had held it in his hand, had breathed upon it, a most gentle resuscitation.

His warmth bled into her skin, into her bones, into her marrow.

“You coax warmth from the cold, light from the dark,” Anri whispered fondly.  “You take something as wild and consuming as flame, and you cradle it, shape it, teach it to dance.  You burn.  That is a kind of love, I deem.”

For so long, she had looked backward, tracing the ruins of what she could not save, what she had left behind.  But now, huddled in the hush of ash, she allowed herself to sit beside Laurentius and imagine something different.  A glimpse of a future, one that was tender despite the world’s teeth, despite prejudice, despite old wounds.  They could make something from nothing.

“It is you who has kept me warm in this cold, who has carried me when I was sure I would fall.  It is your light I look to, again and again.”

A breathless pause, then –

“Laurentius, you are the only thing I wish to hold and never relinquish.”

And then she kissed him, fierce as fire, slow as the gathering of kindling before the blaze.  It was not chaste, nor fleeting.  It was gratitude and devotion and unfettered adoration, the wordless vow that if he was to be her steady hand, then she would be the warmth he returned to.  That she would burn for him too.

Laurentius listens as she speaks. He can hear the hurt: the cracks in her voice, spidering through the sound gleaming veins in giving glass. He marvels at it, because even as every bit of her shattered on its own, she held together. She cohered herself again and again, every morning, from so many scattered pieces. She brought herself up and she marched forward and now - now, she saved people. She made it here. She made it to him. She saved him, too - first there from the depths, and now here in the shrine. Her heart? She might as well have handed him the First Flame, burn-bright, for as much as it has done to change him, to make him anew in these last few days.

"It isn't often I hear pyromancy described as honest," he says, after she concludes, that echo of a smile catching on her face the way light catches in a crystal facet. "Certainly, there's not much in the way of guile to it - you...you sort of have a conversation with the world, and if you're any good at it, the world listens, and together you create something. A flame."

He conjures a little orb above his right hand. It hovers and sways - perfect control. Of course, it would be; the sphere is tiny, tightly bound, a bead of ochre glow swirling gently in the air before her.

"It's a little like talking to a knight, maybe," he says, letting the orb drop to catch it just above his fingers - an inch of space or so between the ball and his manchette, where he begins to rotate his hand and wrist, letting the little flame roll and dance between his outstretched fingers like one of those juggling balls a street performer might use. "Like finding out she's a capable, brave, noble woman with a heart like a hearth, and one night she kisses you, and she tells you all about herself, and you find yourself falling even more in love with her, over and over again."

He flicks his little finger, arcs the flame up and over the back of his hand, turns the hand up again and catches it neatly on his palm.

"She sort of has a conversation with you, and if you're any good at all, you listen, and together you create something," he says. "It might be a flame. It might be a kiss. It might be that you just create a smile on her lips that's worth more than every ounce of gold you've ever held in your life. But you create something."

He leans in, and kisses her gently - a little peck on her lips, then rests his forehead against hers as he lets the orb dissipate.

"That's pretty honest, I'd say," he chuckles.

[rin-eko]

Chapter Nine - Blushing Prince 

masterpost

There was a scar on your chin. You touched it carefully as you examined it in the mirror. It was a small one, and would likely disappear within a few weeks, but it still reminded you of the larger, uglier one on your hand that would never go away. You wondered if you would continue collecting these marks for as long as you remained married to the prince.

You hadn’t been sleeping well and it was starting to show. Your shoulders were slumped with exhaustion from sleepless nights, your eyes lined with dark circles Kia tapped extra powder into in the mornings. A constant throbbing headache sat at the back of your head, forcing you into bed early and rise late in the day.

The headache only worsened when you spotted Rindou outside the Great Room, forcing you to slow down to a stop just in front of him, hesitant to go any closer.

You hadn’t seen either him or your husband in three weeks. Not since Rindou had kissed you and you had told Haruchiyo you wanted him out of the room. You felt guilty to admit you were grateful for both their absences.

You didn’t want to be near Rindou after he had kissed you. You had considered him a friend, but he clearly didn’t hold you in the same regard if he was willing to risk punishment for the both of you.

“Master Rindou,” you bowed respectfully before attempting to move past him.

He quickly grabbed your wrist, sighing when you snatched it back.

“Princess,” he started.

“Kia,” you quickly addressed the girl. “Please go ensure the lily tearoom is ready for the empress and I.”

You didn’t want anyone to hear this conversation.

“Yes, my lady.”

You watched her walk away, turning back to Rindou with blank eyes.

“Did you need something from me?”

He hesitated a moment, caught off guard by your expressionless tone and emotionless gaze.

“I wanted to apologise for my actions a few weeks ago,” he bowed his head. “I had noticed Haruchiyo inside and was trying to make him jealous. It was wrong of me to disregard your feelings for my own amusement. Rest assured it won’t happen again, princess.”

Your lips parted in surprise, brows rising.

“Jealous?” you inquired softly.

Rindou’s head raised, frowning. “Yes, I thought it was obvious. Don’t worry, I don’t actually want to run away with you.”

You shook your head, causing Rindou to sigh. He took a step closer to your wary figure.

“Relax, I won’t kiss you again. Not unless you want me to,” he winked. You shook your head quickly. He laughed.

“I’ll try not to be offended.”

“Why was the prince jealous?” you questioned.

Rindou’s laughing ceased to stare you down intensely. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“No, I’m not sure what you speak of.”

“Well, it’s not something I can tell you. Sorry. The prince himself probably doesn’t even know, so he needs to sort out his own feelings first.”

“Feelings?”

He nodded. “Yes. But…” he reached out and you stilled, eyes wide as he gently touched the scar on your chin. “…if he keeps hurting you like this there won’t be much of you left.”

The words were quiet and thoughtful, more for his ears than yours, but you couldn’t help but internally agree. On some nights you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a floating feeling wisping through you, almost as if you could feel yourself slowly wasting away.

Tears touched the corners of your eyes. You quickly looked away, wiping at them, hand trailing down to touch your necklace.

“Excuse me, Master Rindou, I do have duties to attend to.”

“Yes, of course. Excuse me, princess, and I do hope you’ll accept my apology.”

You nodded, only half listening as you walked away, feeling a dark cloud hovering above you.

You had promised the empress you would have tea with her, but all you really wanted to do was drag yourself to bed and curl in the warm covers, disappearing from the world if only for a few hours. You visited the orphanage when you could, and it brought great amounts of joy to your heart, as did thoughts of Saeya. Most days those were the only things that kept you going.

But they did not quell the inescapable exhaustion.

You clearly weren’t hiding it well enough, because the next time your husband saw you, he frowned and immediately asked if you were feeling sick.

You were on one of the long balconies overlooking the city, just one level down from where he had assaulted Rindou. Your husband had requested you meet him. It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly setting, casting an orange glow onto the palace’s outer-walls and warming your face.

“No,” you responded softly, though your head had been feeling a bit light throughout the day.

“Are you sure?” he dragged you to him with a hand on the small of your back and another at the back of your neck. A hand lifted to touch your forehead and feel for a fever. “You look pale. Have you been sleeping?”

His chest looked inviting and comfortable, but it still startled you when your head naturally rested there without any prompt.

It wasn’t because he brought you any comfort, but because you would have taken anyone. Absolutely anyone. To rest your head on. To lean against. Trying to hold your head high just made you realise how heavy it really was.

A deep sigh escaped you as you fell into him, inhaling his strangely soothing scent.

His whole body stiffened, but soon a warm hand was slowly brought down to the back of your head and he was stroking soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured quietly. “Yuma told me you haven’t been eating well.”

“I just haven’t been hungry. Nothing is wrong, I’m sorry for touching you without permission, my prince.” But you didn’t move, and he continued to stroke down your hair.

“I have a surprise for you,” he murmured long minutes later when you were almost convinced you were going to fall asleep standing up.

You pulled away, stifling a moan of anguish. “A surprise?”

His blue eyes glittered. “Mhm. Do you want to guess what it is?”

You shook your head. “I really have no idea what it could be.”

He pulled you back to him, as if disturbed without you in his arms. A hand continued stroking your hair while his head turned to look out at the view of Senin.

“We’re travelling to Manji in one week’s time.”

You gasped, pushing against his chest to see his face, gauge the sincerity in his eyes. “Really?” excitement filled your chest. “I will be going as well?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I have business with Prince Manjiro and Senju wishes to meet you.”

Your hands clapped together, eyes closing from how brightly you were smiling. “I can’t wait! Thank you for allowing me to go!”

You had never been to Manji. Exploring a beautiful new place would bring you world of good. A welcome reprieve from the palace.  

You blinked at him when your words were met with silence. Titling your head, “Prince Haruchiyo?”

You couldn’t place the expression on his face. His eyes were wide, his pink lips parted in surprise as he stared at you in what you could only describe as astonishment.

Before you could blink he was pushing you to press your back to a pillar, crowding you in and towering over you.

You gasped as his head ducked down to kiss you, completely caught off guard when his tongue stroked your lips and dipped into your mouth. He pulled away slightly, but only to lick your lips and place little kisses all over them. Cup your jaw and nuzzle you close.

You were breathless when he finally pulled away, unused to your mouth being ravaged so suddenly and thoroughly.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that. I want to take you to bed. Let me?” he breathed into your neck.

Your eyes widened. He licked your skin. “Let’s go to our marriage room.”

…

You didn’t say no. Even if you were allowed to, you wondered if you would.

It felt amazing again. He didn’t lick you- much to your quiet disappointment- but he did play with your wetness with his fingers, thrusting two inside you while his thumb circled that wonderful small bundle of nerves. He seemed a bit rushed- eager to be inside you.

He took you with your knees pressed to your chest again, the sharp angle of his jaw and smooth lines of his neck visible above you as he thrust his cock into your warmth. You were too sensitive from your release all over his fingers, so he was the only one who came as his cock thrust deep enough to kiss your cervix.

You marvelled at the sight of pleasure on his face. His pretty moans. His arms shuddering as he balanced on them. He seemed to lose himself.

He lay in bed with you after, quiet with the sheets at his waist and your curled on your side facing away from him. You always felt a little more sensitive after he took your body. A little more vulnerable, and felt you had to distance yourself to hold onto an ounce of composure.

You froze when his voice penetrated the post-sex haze, washing any lingering pleasure away.

“Why did you let Rindou kiss you?”

You faced him immediately, sitting back on your heels and pulling the blankets around your shoulders to cover your breasts. He stared at you silently, waiting for an answer.

“I-”

“If you tell me you like him I might just lose my mind, so choose your words wisely,” he warned, eyes glinting dangerously.

You stared down. “I think… he’s my friend. He has been kind to me, aside from the kiss.”

Haruchiyo suddenly gripped your jaw, hard. He forced you to look up at him. “Has he kissed you before? Did you enjoy his lips on yours?”

You spluttered. “No! Of course not.”

“No? To which question?”

“Both!” you cried out. Looked down again. “I have only kissed you. I did not know Master Rindou would kiss me.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that you cannot be alone with another man.”

“I… I’m sorry,” your head bowed. “I am willing to take whichever punishment you wish.” Even if it hadn’t been your fault.

You head remained lowered, so you couldn’t see the expression that accompanied his silence. But it was unnerving. The tense quiet prickled your skin. Your hands balled into fists in anticipation.

“I’m going to sleep,” he said eventually. Your head shot up to see him settling on the side of the bed, facing away from you. You blinked at the sight of his pale black, a few light pink scratches from your nails adorning the smooth skin.

“Here?” your head tilted.

He looked over his shoulder, a cautioning glint in his eyes once more. “This is my palace and you are my wife, do you take issue with me laying here?”

“Of course not, my prince. I shall find somewhere else to rest tonight.”

He sighed as if you were the most bothersome thing in the world. Sitting up once more, he gripped your shoulders and forced you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. You gasped at the feel of something hard rubbing the skin of your thighs. He was still aroused- enough so to go again, by the feel of it- despite having released not long ago.

He pressed your shoulders into the bed more firmly, as if willing you to stay there.

“Go to sleep,” he ground, then rolled back to the other side of the bed and didn’t look at you again.

You stared at the ceiling and blinked at the strange development. You had never spent a night alone with your husband. You had never slept in the same bed as him. You didn’t know where he spent his nights, but it was never with you. Since it was his palace he had his pick of any of the rooms.

You slowly crept off the bed to the draws your light nightgowns were kept in, quietly unfolding one and slipping it over your head.  

You hadn’t even had a chance to bathe. Lucky you had had a quiet day and weren’t sweating too much, because if you tried to fill the bath the prince would certainly wake. But the sound of footsteps behind you suggested that Haruchiyo was never sleeping to begin with.

You turned quickly, startled when his figure was right in front of you, looming over you.

He glared down at you. “What are you doing?”

“Changing for bed, my prince.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, starting to pull the nightgown back up your thighs and waist. You immediately shielded your sex with your hands, blushing profusely.

“Prince Haruchiyo?”

“You don’t need this,” he bat your hands away, forced them up to drag the material back over your head.

“What if I want to take your body during the night? This would only get in the way. Honestly,” he muttered. You yelped when he suddenly picked up your bare body, slinging it over his shoulder and carrying you back to bed. “I guess I didn’t fuck you well enough if you’re still so energetic.”

He dumped you on the bed, and instead of facing away this time, he slid under the covers and pulled your body to his, locking your legs in his and wrapping his arms around you so you couldn’t move an inch.

You watched his eyes close for sleep, tense in the embrace of his long arms and warm chest.

Feeling your gaze, one blue eye peeked open. He groaned and slapped his palm over your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

It was barely eight o’clock. You weren’t sleepy at all. “I…I’m not tired, though.”

He sighed, flopping onto his back with his arms spread wide. A cheeky grin spread over his face suddenly. He looked at you.

“Wanna fuck again?”

“If… if you want to,” you couldn’t meet his eyes and you certainly couldn’t say that yes, you did want to fuck again.

“Hmm, how about this? If you’re honest I’ll give you what you want,” he sat up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. His cheek rested to his hand, observing you with a soft, amused smile.

“Honest?”

“Mhm, tell me my beautiful bride…” he touched your cheek with one finger. “Do you want me to fuck you again?”

Red splotches flooded over your skin. “If you want to, my prince.”

He clicked his tongue, disappointed. “No, remember we’re being honest,” he reminded. “None of that annoying, obedience that was drilled into you. I promise you’ll get what you want if you just tell me.” A soft kiss was pressed to your cheek, then your jaw, and the side of your neck.

Your lips trembled, pressing into thin line as you clutched the blankets closer to your chest. “I… can’t say it.” Was he really expecting such crude words to come out of your mouth? Your job was to please the prince, not request anything from him. Your mother would have slapped you for cursing and now your husband was asking you to.

“I’ll help you,” he slid behind you, one hand cupping your jaw and the other going to your stomach to press you back into his chest. He leaned back against the wooden headboard, stroking your tense back. You were bright red, feeling his cock press into your back, his legs on the outside of yours.

He stroked down your back and leant forward to press little kisses to the nape of your neck and shoulders, wrapping both arms tightly around you until you were forced to relax into his space.

“There we go,” he cooed. “Good girl.”

Shivers went down your spine.

“Oh? Do you like it when I praise you?” he chuckled. “I don’t blame you. The notion of wanting to please me has been forced into you, hasn’t it?”

He continued touching you with featherlight fingers for long, torturous minutes, ignoring the ache between your legs and focusing on teasing little strokes over your back and shoulders.

It was only when you shifted in your spot, uncomfortable at the wetness between your legs, that his hands dipped lower. First to stroke over your breasts, pinching your nipples quickly before massaging the soft flesh.

“I love these,” he rested his chin on your shoulder, staring down at the picture of his big hands kneading your breasts.

“But,” he added, one hand skimming lower to shock you as fingers touched your clit and even lower to your hole. “I love this even more.”

The fingers eased inside you, making you moan and spread your legs further apart. You completely relaxed into his torso, slumping at the feel of that one finger lightly thrusting in and out of you.

“So small,” he murmured absently. “I can feel you sucking me in.”

“Please…” you rasped.

He grinned and gave you a quick kiss. “Please what?”

“Please f-” you couldn’t say it. There was no way. “Please, Haruchiyo!”

He tsked. “I don’t know what you want.” He did, but the look of lost pleasure on your face was too delicious to not savour, and he wanted to hear those crude words escape your lips anyway. He wanted to hear you say that filthy line while you were blushing and had that scandalised look on your face.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as you struggled to speak.

“Or perhaps you don’t want me to touch you at all?” His hand moved away and you almost cried from the loss, you sex clenching desperately.

“No,” you quickly gripped his wrist. “I… I like it! Is that okay? I like it when you touch me!”

You felt his body tense behind- become utterly rigid- before a deep exhale escaped him and he groaned, almost as if in pain. His hands dropped from your body, all movements ceasing as his forehead rested at the nape of your neck.  

In your breathless state, you craned your neck back to look at him, eyes widening on the sight of his pinkening cheekbones and nose.

Was he… blushing? You could hardly believe your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” he turned his head to the side away from your shocked eyes, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. His other hand covered your eyes quickly. You pulled two of his fingers apart to peek between them, blinking at his flushed state.  

“Are you okay, my prince?”

“I’m fine.” He composed himself after a few moments, side-eyeing you and letting out a defeated sigh. A hand reached out to touch your lips. “Fine, I won’t make you beg me to fuck you today. I don’t think even I’m ready to hear those words from your lips. So for now, just be quiet and I’ll give us what we both want.”

With that he pushed you back into the fluffy pillows, cloaking you in his warmth as his hands and lips met yours once more.

…

“Princess Haruchiyo, son of heaven has requested your presence in his study.”

You blinked, finding your husband’s behaviour as of late very odd. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Since he announced your trip to Manji, not a day went by that you didn’t see your husband. You weren’t sure if it was just coincidence or if the universe was playing tricks on you, but wherever you went, he seemed to end up there, too.

When you visited the orphanage, he popped in two minutes later saying something about discussing funds with Mei. When you were enjoying the quiet of the gardens, there he was walking towards you. You saw him before he saw you, observing the way his gaze flitted around.

Was he looking for something?

He coughed into his fist when he caught sight of you, stopping to stand in front of you. “I didn’t even know you were here. I was just going for a walk.”

You smiled. “That’s a good idea, my prince. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait,” he grabbed your hand when you stepped around him. “We may as well walk together. I’m also going that way.”

You frowned in confusion. “But you just came from that direction?”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning me?” he snapped.

Your eye twitched in annoyance. “Er, no. Of course not, my prince. Please walk with me.”

And the next day, when you had been in the kitchen with the cooks, drooling over the smell of duck dumplings and scallion pancakes.

Both you and the cooks startled when the prince strode in, scanning around until his gaze settled on you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Just watching the food cook. Doesn’t it smell delicious?”

He grumbled. “Yes, I suppose.”

“What are you doing here, my prince?”

He snapped to attention at the question, defensive. “I was just coming to supervise the cooking. It is not that strange for me to do this. It is my palace after all, so I can go wherever I want.”

You wondered if your smile looked as forced as it felt. He had been acting so strange lately. This was only confirmed when Kia was brushing your hair that evening.

“Did crown prince find you today?” she asked.

“Find me? What are you talking about?”

“He came to ask where you were, so I told him you were in the kitchen. You didn’t see him?”

You stared at her for a moment. “He was looking for me?”

“Yes, but he didn’t say why.”

Had he needed something from you but then forgot? He hadn’t told you anything of importance or given you a task to do. Even though it seemed he didn’t have anything to do in the kitchen, he had stayed until you excused yourself. Then, he was jumping from his seat and saying he, too, had something to do in the same direction you were going. He walked with you in silence as you tried to think of something proper to say to break the awkwardness.

The two sliding doors to his study were wide open by the time you arrived, revealing him kneeling behind his desk as he wrote something on parchment with ink.

You bowed. “My Prince.”

He looked up from his work in surprise. “You’re here? That was quick.”

Of course it was. You dropped what you were doing to serve him.

“Servant Nobu said you requested my presence.”

He blinked. “Er, yes. Right. I need you to find me the Dei scrolls.” He pointed behind him at the vast bookshelf that lined the back wall.

“Yes, my prince.”

You wondered why he couldn’t have someone else do the task as you scanned through the books and writings. He had never requested your service while he worked before, so you assumed the concubines and servants always helped. Why did he suddenly need you?

You could have sworn you felt his gaze on you once or twice as you searched for the item he requested, but when you turned to look, his back was always facing you as he read something on the desk.

“Here you are.” You gently placed the three scrolls on his desk, stepping back to await further instruction.

“Pour my tea, too.” He held his half-empty cup up without a glance in your direction. You took it from him and went to a side table where a teapot was kept hot, pouring the green liquid and taking it back to him.

“Was there anything else you need, my prince?”

“Yes. The tea is too hot for me to drink. Blow on it for me.”

You child!

“Yes, my prince,” you smiled, doing as he said.

You knelt to the side of his table, watching him work for a long while. He kept finding miniscule tasks for you to do even though you had a hundred more important things to do with your time.

Nobu entered the room again, this time with a letter that had the prince’s frown deepening with each word he read. His jaw tightened as he scanned over the sentences, frustrated.

“Why are so many getting sick. It seems to be a certain demographic, too, but most known diseases have been eradicated…” he mumbled.

You couldn’t help but peek over his shoulder as he had you dusting the bookshelves, seeing the letter signed with Rindou’s name at the bottom.

“My Lord,” you leaned over his shoulder. He had an open Dei scroll on his desk, revealing a map of Senin Capital. “You are correct about sickness increasing in a certain demographic. That is, low-income families.” You pointed to a spot on the map, circling around the city. “There is poverty on the outskirts of the capital, especially here and here. I have seen this during my trips into the city. There is a shortage of clean water for these people as they cannot afford to collect from Lake Basai. Because of this, they have no choice but to drink and bathe in the polluted canals surrounding the city. This results in sickness and disease. When these people die in their homes, they are often not found for days and rats will begin to eat their corpses, then carrying on the disease. It doesn’t matter if you think the disease has been eradicated- it can easily fester under these horrible conditions.”

You hadn’t noticed his gaze watching your face closely as you spoke, only realising when you stopped and faced him, bringing your faces closer together. Both your eyes widened, and you stumbled back, hardly believing you had the gall to say so much. He had never asked for your opinion. You had just noticed Rindou’s observations matched what you had seen when you took the children for walks to explore the city.

“Um, sorry for speaking out of turn,” you mumbled, kneeling to his right with your hands tightly fisting the material over your lap, your head bowed.

“Ah, you’re forgiven.” Perplexed by his slightly strangled tone, you looked up only to find his head tilted to the other side as the back of his hand covered his nose, cheeks and mouth.

“My Lord, are you feeling alright? Your cheeks are flushed. Do you have a temperature?” you knelt up to feel his forehead as he watched you with a curious gaze. It was the second time you had seen him blushed.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just hot in here. Fan me.”

You nodded, getting up to retrieve a fan to slowly wave near him for a few minutes.

He coughed into his fist. “There is something else. When we return from Manji, we’ll share our marriage quarters.”

You stopped fanning abruptly. “Share? You mean-”

“I’ll be sleeping there.” He suddenly sniffed and turned his nose up like he was displeased with his own idea. “Don’t get the wrong impression. It has nothing to do with you. The empress dowager will get angry if she finds we haven’t been sleeping together, that’s all. My grandmother is a pain when she doesn’t approve of something.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, resuming waving the fan slowly.

“What?” he snapped, slamming his ink brush down to focus glaring baby blues on you. Black splotches of ink sprung from the brush, dots of dark liquid sinking into his documents. He paid them no mind. Instead questioning angrily, “You don’t want to share a room with me?”

“No, it’s not that. I will do whatever pleases my prince.”

“So why don’t you sound happy to spend nights with me?”

Ugh, what a tiring man.

You smiled. “I am happy. Thank you for granting me this.”

Tagging: @soushswag @crown5 @angelmitsuri @c4tboyxiao @azusachna @luka-ali

[nanamimizz-archived]

Hello! For your 1k event, I would like to request special grade with Gojo Satoru <3 The inspo is Estelle & AJ Michalka's Here Comes A Thought song: Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust. My preferred pronouns are she/her and I'd like to be referred as lynn/sweetie. Please and thank you in advance Lamb ^w^~

NOT A GOD IN NEED OF YOUR LOVE

Despite all that would say Satoru Gojo is not a god. He is not the divine, he is not an idol to be worshiped - merely a man born to replace Atlas the titan in his burden of holding the sky of expectations on his back as his legs give and shake from the cuts tragedy leaves him with. Everyone sees Satoru as what he lets them see - he’s arrogant, frivolous, and annoying but undoubtedly the strongest. No one sees what Satoru shows you; that is by design, he can’t bear himself to others, and the cruelty and irony of the world won’t let him.

But then, there’s you.

You are his constant, the only person who has stood by his side when fate has taken everything from him and left him a script of who he must be and not who he wants to be. You’re his betrothed, he’s known you for all his life so maybe that’s what he can attribute his love to. He always knew you were there, through the absence of his parents, the betrayal of his true friend - there you remained, unmarred by the cruel rake of time.

Satoru comes to you, the day before Christmas, his head down and you know why. You two are arranged - the marriage date looming over you two in the spring but you know that’s not it. He has to walk through the street to get here, where the betrayal of his life happened. Though the years have passed, the wounds on his guarded heart still ache. The night that he left, dark hair disappearing into the night, and Satoru came to you eyes red from despair you promised you’d bring your fiance his head, ridding the one single thorn that haunts the life of the man you loved.

You let him in, and watch as he phases into your apartment like a ghost - it suits his pale hair and skin. He shuffles to your room and you here the padded flop of his body meeting your bed and you go to the kitchen, knowing what it his he needs. Coco powder, the kind with added vanilla and is so powdery taking a breath near it makes you hack as you taste it in the back of your throat. Shuffling from your room makes you sigh fondly, you can see him now - Satoru who look likes a little boy again, lanky form curling up like a cat around your pillows and covers his face with your pillows.

The milk is warm, and you pour the powder into the warm cup - if Satoru had ears and a tail, you wonder if they would perk and wang at the tinkling of the spoon against the mug. You place the spoon in the side of the sink for dirty dishes, and make your way to the bedroom. Your sock clad feet make soft sounds against the wooden flooring of your apartment and you huff at the blob you see in your sheets.

You also notice how the small bear you’ve had since childhood is peaking next to wisps of white hair. Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you hold out the mug - an open invitation for Satoru. He’s always loved having a choice, you always seek to give him one. You smile softly at how first his hand peeks under the covers, then his head emerges and you see him take the mug. He brings it close, as if the warmth from the ceramic would soothe the ache from the part of his heart you know you can’t fill. His palm, larger than yours, opens itself up to you and you rest your own hand there, bringing his hand to you and you kiss it.

“Did something happen?” you ask, voice soft. He shakes his head, and he drinks from the mug. You watch him from your eyelashes as he enjoys the overly sweet drink. You find him adorable unfortunately, you like how he puts the mug to his wind bitten cheek and he looks at you from under the length of his hair.

“I thought I saw him. It was just someone else but - you live close by and he knows about you, so I thought…” There’s a crack in his voice and his lips twist into a pained pout, like just saying what he assumed had happened was too horrible to say. You bump into his shoulder, squeezing his hand once then twice and letting go.

“It’s okay Satoru.” He leans in and puts his head on your shoulder, letting his forehead rest against the bone of your body and tries to dispel the fears that raced through his mind. Your hand comes up and caresses his locks.

“He won’t be able to find me, it’s okay.” you soothe him, voice like a wind chime in june and he nods, your apartment is sealed and armed to the teeth. Nothing and no one you don’t want to get in can get in, the conditions of your technique you added to your home and he’s relieved that you can protect yourself to this extent.

“Thank you.” he says quietly and you know what the soft candace of his voice means, you encourage him to finish the mug and you keep your gaze on him - long white eyelashes, high cheekbones and soft lips and you sigh. You let go of his hand in favor of rubbing his cheek with your knuckles and he leans into the softness of your skin.

“You worry me sometimes.” You mutter.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He says. Nothing else can be said.

“Stay here tonight. It’ll do you some good.” You say as you reach over for the empty mug. He nodes and pull it out of reach with a small but playful smile. You huff at his antics but let him have his way, it’s been a rough night for him.

“I’ll wash it, let’s go to bed.” You nod and climb over him, settling down in your sheets, watching as he gets up to turn the lights off. You like how he has to bend down a little when he walks through the doorways of your place, it’s cute. He comes back and slides into your bed, you had to buy a bigger one for him back in the day.

Blue eyes meet yours and they blink 3 times.

‘Goodnight.’

A smaller hand fits into his and squeezes it 3 times.

‘Goodnight.’

[cyn--ical]

Alone Together -Chapter Three

authors note: shamelessly inspired by that scene with Rue and Elliot, I apologize for the shitty writing in advance, personally this is a difficult subject matter to write about + I struggleddd with how to end this chapter. d/c I love Topper I'm sorry for how he was treated here lol, Would love to hear what you guys think of the series so far

TW: drug abuse

Chapter 3: ExBrother, ExFriend, ExBoyfriend

Rafe Cameron was 6 feet 2 inches of pure unprocessed anxiety.

He’d first noticed this omnipresent shadow looming behind him, around him, whilst at the foot of their twisting staircase. Holding a crying Sarah’s chubby little hand in his; Ward screaming at the front door that left behind the wisps of his Mother’s perfume.

He’d wanted to stop her, he’d wanted to cry out, to grab onto her, beg her to stay, tell her he was sorry, tell her he could believe her, tell her he would change.

But his feet stayed glued to the wooden floor and his lips stayed glued to each other, like they’d done so many years before; and he’d watched the last of her curls slip behind the doorframe of his bedroom door and he did nothing.

Rafe Cameron was dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes.

He was shaky fingers laced with the grit of sand and white powder, reaching up to push it out of his face.

He was falling to his knees one hand now holding his chest trying to push down the last of the oxygen before it escaped through his strangled gasps.

"Wheezie" he breathed out, his vision clouded with a flurry of entoptics.

"Wheezie" he called out again louder, knowing that his little sister would have only been standing around the corner at the first sounds of his argument with Y/N.

"Seriously get in here" he said, with the last of the words he could muster before returning to his struggle of drawing in breaths far enough to reach his lungs.

Wheezie tiptoed in, her brother sounded desperate but the uncertainty of whether or not she was walking into an elaborate ruse only to be busted for eavesdropping was reflected in her slow hesitating steps.

"You don’t look so good" she said, there was a pitch in her voice that held the nuance of panic.

"No shit Watson, glad to see those glasses are working"

Wheezie knelt in front of Rafe, she’d never understand him or Sarah or how they could keep messing up their lives like this. She couldn’t make sense of why they kept facing these simple problems with complicated solutions. She hoped that when she finally delved into the dark underbelly of puberty, she’d be able to keep her common sense intact long enough to match its claws and teeth; and avoid the inevitable chewed up and spit out fate that had befallen her siblings.

"I need you to check my pulse" he laboured on.

"What? Rafe, what do you mean, what are you talking about, I don’t know how to do that" whatever panic had been simmering below her words had suddenly, instantly bubbled over.

She was watching her brother slowly lose consciousness.

"I’m getting dad" she leapt to her feet, only to be harshly pulled back, her knees bruising against the hard wood.

"No"

Rafe Cameron was tripping his way towards deaths door and he still couldn’t think of anything worse than asking Ward for help.

He opened up his sisters palm and folded in all but her index and middle finger, he pressed the remaining two fingers against his neck just under his jawbone.

"Get your phone out"

"Rafe I can’t, please I can’t do this" Wheezie said, her words squeaking between her quickly forming tears, she pulled her fingers back away from his skin.

He sighed, he couldn’t remember how many lines he’d done, was it 5, it could have been 6, could have been oxy, could have been k, could have been xans, he couldn’t remember.

Rafe Cameron had fucked up, he was fucked up and he guessed he was about 3 minutes away from passing out or worse and that would really fuck Wheezie up too. He sighed again.

He placed a hand on his sisters shoulder, “Please, I need you to get yourself together for me, because I can’t, please Wheezie just get your phone out”

His grip was firm, grounding and Wheezie couldn’t decide if it was more for her or for him. She reached into her pocket and got her phone out.

"Good" he said placing her fingers back on his neck, “Now get the stopwatch up, I need you to count how many times my heart beats for a minute, okay?”

"Hey, hey look at me, can you do this for me?"

Wheezie nodded, bitting her lip, bitting back the tears that fogged up her glasses.

"Yes"

The room was dead silent, she focused on her brothers heart beat till all she could hear was its drumming echoing inside her ears, 1...2...3...4.....5

"48"

"Fuck"

He was on the outside looking in now, everything moved in stop motion -ridged and slow, his thoughts blurred just out of focus.

"Is that bad? RAFE, is that bad?!" the alarm in her voice rang in between his ears.

Wheezie was drowning here, she didn’t know it at the time but would later realize that she’d swam way out her depth the minute she’d entered his room.

"I need you to go into my closet and get the adderall, its in the second drawer down on the left" he said.

Rafe’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it thundered in Wheezie’s ears and all she heard was more drugs.

"N- no I’m getting dad, I’m- raf- your crazy I’m not getting you more drugs, you’r- al- already- you’re like dying" she half stuttered half screamed, chocking on her tears.

"Listen to me, there isn’t time, just get me the pills...just get me the pills Wheez"

Rafe Cameron’s breathing was shallow and heavy, it hurt to speak, it hurt to move, his bones ground together like rocks and his brain sizzled, He felt his face begin to melt through his eyes, forcing them to close.

He strained to hear the muffled sounds of Wheezie rummaging through the drawers and prayed she’d find them.

"Here" she pushed the small packet of faded peach coloured pills into his chest.

"Crush one of them"

Wordlessly Wheezie placed the small pill on the floor, she could barely see from behind her fogged up glasses. She pushed the back of her phone down onto it till she heard the crunch as the pill split into tiny pieces; her tears fell soundlessly onto her screen.

He’d been bent over, leaning so far forwards, his forehead was inches away from the ground. Rafe slumped down pressing his nose into the powder and snorting it as quickly as his body allowed. He tilted his head back, the bitterness racing down the back of his throat, he breathed.

The high pitched ringing had stopped, his head emerged from underwater, he could hear; he could see; he could feel, he could feel his heart.

"There you are" he chuckled sheepishly.

Wheezie looked at him with disbelief -with disgust.

As if the last 5 minutes had been nothing but a fever dream; Rafe had gotten back up, dusted off his jeans and raked his fingers through his hair styling it back into place. He’d grinned at her and she’d wanted to punch it right off his face.

"What was that, why did you make me do that" She knew that the worst part was over and he couldn’t make her feel bad for being angry now.

"Come on Wheez don’t be like that, I just needed a little help thats all, it wasn’t serious" Rafe shrugged.

It was like whiplash -the nonchalance in his voice and it snapped something inside her.

Wheezie sobbed, her whole body shaking, she felt it in her gut. It confused him, but Rafe hated seeing his sister cry, he pulled Wheezie into his chest wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"I promise it wasn’t serious" he whispered into her hair.

"How can you say that" she trembled against him.

"I wouldn’t put you in that position Wheez"

She pushed against him, trying to free herself “but you just did” she said, her voice breaking.

Rafe Cameron was no stranger to this look, he’d been raised his whole life on this look, but not once had he’d seen it worn by his youngest sister, until now. That look, a mean mixture of disappointment, pity and resentment. Saying he’d grown accustomed to it was an understatement, but on Wheezie it hit him different. He wasn’t sure about anyone, but they’d had a bond, She loved him and he knew it and now he’d fucked that up too.

"What do you want from me kid, an apology?" he’d burn the bridge before she could light the match.

"I just want my brother to stop being such an asshole to everyone...to me"

“I don’t want you to die Rafe”

He moved towards her and pulled her into his side, “I wont, I’m sorry and I don’t mean to be an asshole you know?”

He gave her a quick kiss on her temple and pushed her towards the door.

"I know" she said, hesitating in the doorway, before stepping out of his room with even more uncertainty than she’d entered.

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

2 hours later, he was slumped over Topper’s kitchen counter doing a line of coke.

The little “study session” that Topper had organized sounded distant, warped behind the double glazed french doors.

The music blared in, bass reverberating beneath his sneakers before being muted by the slam of the door.

"Yo Dude, Rafe slow down" Kelce said shooting Topper a look, as they made their way over to him.

They’d heard from Sarah, who’d heard from John B who’d heard from Y/N what had happened that afternoon.

"I’m good" Rafe said, waving them off.

"Seriously, Rafe, Y/N’s a great girl but-"

"-Shut up Topper" he said annunciating every word, “I don’t need you telling me how great my girlfriend is, I know she’s great, she’s so fucking great” he snapped.

"Look man, all we’re saying is it sucks what happened but we’re here for you...just go easy on the candy or my brothers gonna kill me" Kelce said, dropping an arm around Rafe’s shoulder and patting a hand on his chest.

"Yeah, like I was saying Y/N’s a great girl, you made a mistake but she’s gonna understand, everything’s gonna be fine and besides, whatever happens we got you dude" Topper stated, tipping his cup towards Rafe.

Rafe shook Kelce’s arm off him and leaned in for another line. They meant well, they always did, but right now he hated them, he hated their stiff collars and perfectly pressed polos, he hated the watches they wore so proudly -Daddies gifts passed down over generations of old money, the same “gift” he’d gotten, stolen from a locked drawer, he hated how genuine they were being, their stupid smiles and brotherly reassurance, he hated the control they had, how they could get fucked up without getting fucked up. But most of all he hated himself for hating them.

"You know what boys you’re right, everything’s gonna be fine" he said, flashing them a fake smile.

"Here" he said, grabbing the nearest bottle of tequila and pouring out three shots. “Lets drink to it”

"Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about” Kelce said slapping a hand on Rafe’s back, “Cameron on top!"

"Dude" Topper laughed

"What I didn't mean it like that- I just meant like- you know nothing can keep him down-"

"Aright, alright, alright, so are we drinking or what" Rafe said, waving them off

"Top?"

Rafe held out the shot of brown liquid, his eyebrows raised. Topper knew it was more of a challenge than a question. He took the small glass from him and downed it, his eyes never leaving Rafe’s. He held the older boy’s gaze for a second longer before the coughs spluttered out.

Rafe scoffed before pouring out another one and sliding it over towards Topper. He walked over to the doors and swung them open, promptly cutting off the music and the swarm of protests that followed, as he climbed up onto the patio table.

“Listen up, everyone say thank you Topper for this generous opportunity for us to come together and catch up on our summer reading”

A ripple of laughs, whistles and thank you Topper’s fanned out through the soon to be upperclassmen of Kildare Academy High.

"Dude what are you doing?" Topper whispered, tugging on Rafe’s shirt as he swayed too close to the edge of the table.

Rafe leaned over and stared down at his friend, pushing his hand off him. Topper could see the blacks of his friend’s pupils spilling out into the blues, shimmering so deceitfully deadly like a growing oil spill. Rafe was too high and too drunk to be doing this.

“Get down”

“Who’s gonna make me Thornton, you?” Rafe said in the same tone he’d had earlier when he’d offered Topper the drink.

Topper held his hands up and backed away, there was no arguing with Rafe Cameron, especially intoxicated Rafe Cameron.

Rafe steadied himself back up and plastered that fake smile across his face. “Now I’d personally like to thank my best friend Topper for not only being there for me but for constantly cucking himself out to my sister, Sarah Cameron” He smirked as he pointed towards the pool where Sarah was sitting on John B’s lap “There she is, resident Kook princess, its funny cause Sarah here has always wanted a puppy, guess she didn’t realize we already had a family pet, so here’s a toast to our little bitch boy Topper Thornton”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the crowd as they watched Rafe down the shot. The awkward shuffles and whispers disappearing as quickly as they’d come as someone accidentally on purpose tripped over something or someone and turned on the music again, drowning out the scuffle of Kelce and Topper pulling Rafe off the table.

"What the actual fuck was that" Kelce demanded, pushing Rafe back into the house, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Rafe stared blankly at Kelce as he turned back to the kitchen counter, grabbing the nearest bottle and pouring out another drink.

"Look man I know you’re going through some shit right now, so I’m just gonna do you a favour and forget everything you just said" Topper stated.

"Do me a favour? do yourself a favour Thornton and stop getting so fetal over everything" Rafe chuckled humourlessly, he was over this conversation, over them.

"Jesus dude enough" Kelce remarked

Rafe’s response died mid sentence as they were greeted by the encore of rap lyrics muted once again by the slam of the glass doors.

"Don’t you dare ever drag me into one of your drug fuelled hate speeches again" Sarah shouted at him from across the room, John B at her heels like her personal guard dog. He really had to hand it to his sister, the way she had all her boys turning everything but tricks for her. When else would John B, be caught dead at an all Kook party let alone at the Thornton's.

Great

Rafe leaned against the kitchen counter his head in his hands, his eyes rolling behind his palms, he should have known better but tequila made him stupid. It was one thing to listen to Topper and Kelce, but he’d sooner dig his own grave than stay and listen to anything his sister had to say.

He did his best to drown out the whine of her voice, but the coke was wearing off rapidly and he needed another fix.

"Dude you’re a mess" John B’s words cut through the barrage of Sarah’s

Rafe had missed the nervous looks shared between them, he’d missed how Sarah had stopped talking and how she was now holding onto John B’s hand so tightly it had turned white, Topper and Kelce were talking to him but he couldn’t hear them. All he could feel was the clamminess of his hands, his legs shaking and giving out. The feeling of not being able to breath rapidly flooding his lungs again.

"Rafe!”

He was surrounded by voices that he could barely place, falling in and out of consciousness till he heard that one...

"Y/N?"

taglist: @bjrmaybank @kaelibaby @lilicr @tishanas-darlings @americaarse @delicaties

[heartofspells]

🌹🌹🌹 something from wasteland pleaseeeee

a;kdsjf;lskj

OF COURSE!

Er...cw for imagery?

--

"You left," it says faintly, those two syllables more crushing than anything else could ever hope to be. "You left me to rot. You left me to die."

"No," whispers Sirius, shaking his head, the motion jerky, haptic. "No, I tried – "

"You left me to rot!" screeches the voice, a dark head turning, hair made of flowing shadows swinging wildly, tendrils sprawling out, eating away the fog, devouring the light.

Sirius wants to run, spin around, not look, but he can't, frozen in place, those wisps of darkness wrapping around his ankles and wrists, holding him, swallowing him. The head keeps turning and Sirius' breath is sucked away before he sees, before the truth of it smacks into him, those empty sockets where eyes should exist falling over him like the reckoning of end days, the reaping of a tarnished soul, pure white, powder spilling down cheeks, the only light that remains as the blackness consumes all else.

--

Send me a rose and I'll give you something from a current WIP.

[steelcarbuncle]

Fire in the Skies

(Saving this post from a few months back) (TW: Blood and violence)

(Mood music)

The sky above the sea and the Zephyr's Luck is alight with fire.

Just like the dream.

The screaming started above deck. Sasani tears her eyes from the portcullis and flipped dexterously from the crew bunk she had been in. She only grabbed her hammer and the breastplate from the floor before heading above deck and past other frightened and bewildered crew members. The monsters had returned and they had need of her, she was so certain.

Blood. The deck was washed in blood of the crew and tattered remains peppered the scene between horrifying monsters.

So quickly.

The Lalafellin warrior spun her hammer and readied her stance, setting her sights on a tentacled beast closing in on a crew member.

"No… no please!" The Hyurian woman cried desperately as she backed from the creature, "We… we've just started our family… please!" She pulled helplessly at the fallen man at her feet, bloodied and unresponsive to her terror. The blackness enveloped her form while she gave an anguished cry and before Sani's eyes the woman's form grew into a large, monstrous form with terrifying mouths.

"No!" Sani screams and charges the first beast, her hammer alighting with flames as she brings it down. "We can fight back these beasts!"

But can we?

There was a sickening crunch of the hammer hitting flesh as it collapsed the beasts shoulder and the sizzle of flames burning flesh. The beast roared and lashed the small warrior with a tentacle arm, knocking her off balance towards the new jibbering monstrosity. It lifts a massive fist to try and bring it down on Sani only to have her roll away at the last moment, catching and tearing a bit of the loose night shirt under her breastplate. She charged her aether down the hammer as she rose in a spin, pulling the giant's knee out from under it. Frightened yelling was coming from below deck now.

What is this?

A black powder shot brought down the injured beast before it could strike again. A battered Roegadyn woman wielding a musket gave Sani a nod before the creature behind her, more mouths than beast, bit down on her, renting the brave soul in twain and staining the deck an even further crimson. Enraged, Sani beat the fallen giant until it started to fizzle, dissipating into the black smoke. A sharp yelp and the yelling below deck quelled. Growling of a four legged prowler draws her from staring at the carnage before and she turned to face her new opponent.

Is anyone left? Am I alone with these beasts?

She screamed at the beast as she charged towards it, the fire of her wrath wrapping her hammer was brilliant even under the burning sky.

I left to find myself, but what have I found?

Wisps of black shadowed her fire as her final swing sent the four legged monster over the side of the ship. She had to hope it wouldn't be able to drag itself back on board. The warrior trembled for the first time in a long time, staring down the elongated, mouth covered creature perched over the captain's quarters. The murmurs of beasts could be heard below deck, but there was no more yelling, no pleading.

No one is left. No one is here by my side. I chose to leave.

"If I am to die this day, you're comin' with me." She levels the flaming hammer towards the beast, standing unflinching as it emitted an ear piercing howl and crawled forth with surprising speed. Her stance readied, she caught the inside of the monster's mouth before it could bite down on her and caused the attack to glance away.

I'm alone. She's not here.

"Come at me!" She screams so loud it makes her hoarse. Spinning round and bringing the hammer cross the beast's legs as it was turning to make another pass at her. Several of the legs crumpled under the heat and force of the battle hammer held by the small warrior. The screeching was terrifying as the abomination thrashed, its erratic movements caught Sani and threw her against the side of the boat.

She's not here and it's my fault.

She had to use her hammer to stand, the night shirt she wore was soaked with crimson but she had no idea if it were her own or the crew's. The sea glittered with flames that sizzled when falling from the sky and the air echoed with the unsated abominations still taking to flight. The misting darkness was now thick enough to cloud her vision and she had thought to touch the link pearl she had been wearing.

"Sari… I'm… sorry."

I'm not coming home.

(Mood music change!)

Across the sea, in their home on Vylbrand, the mammet pearl crackles to life, a different sound coming across than the charting and mechanic mammet chatter.

"Sari… I'm… sorry." Sani's voice sounded so weak, defeated.

There was stillness in the hanger for a moment, the only sound was the clattering of tools as Sari dropped them.

"Sani?" Sari voice quavered, sounding so fragile across the shell and in the hanger as she asked. "Sani answer!"

Each call raises in volume and desperation. The Lalafell's wails could be heard from the hallway through out the night. She stayed calling until well past daybreak until her voice had nothing left.