#adaptations are on thin ice

[norcani]

i think its because i mostly watch booktube and most of those people are aspirational "lifestyle vloggers".

youtubers vastly overestimate how much i gaf about their private life

[katabay]

revisiting/redrawing of this comic!

now that I'm halfway through blocking out the individual chapters of bad governance, there are: character arcs! themes! conversation that fit in the greater context of a story instead of a handful of loose ideas that rattle around in my head!

the original conversation got chopped up and split across several different scenes (sulla felix is the one who calls pompeyo a wild dog that dreams of being a king now!), so now I'm playing around with this specific one: the start of cassio's politician arc

I'm also kicking around the idea of renaming brutus to liberato. we'll see if it sticks!

I've also been fucking around with photo/collage type backgrounds on my other blog (I like the aesthetic, but I probably won't do it as much for the actual comic itself), the difference is for bad governance, I can just use my own lmao

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[rubybaely]

rewatched the darkest minds movie and rereading the book and i think that

a) movie still sucks but

b) i don't think they ever could have made a faithful and interesting movie bc so much of what makes the book and ruby compelling is her internal dialogue and her mental development and it's just so hard to translate to the screen in any way

(though the movie didn't seem to care abt giving ruby any development at all, even if they had tried it wouldn't have hit as hard as the book imo)

[lassieposting]

Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.

Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.

Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.

Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.

For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.

And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the

✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨

Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.

Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.

Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.

Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.

Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.

Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.

Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.

Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."

Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.

Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.

Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.

[horizontwinflames]

Horizon AU: Twin Flames - Isaac's final armor and weapons variations (Zero Dawn Act). Text transcription under the cut after the images!

REPOST, EDIT/USE OR FEED MY ART TO AI ISN'T ALLOWED

Edit: Updated some text on the Oseram and Banuk arts.

You can read Isaac's lore here: [LINK]

Will he use those variations in the story? Yes! :D hehe. Also, in this AU only Aloy wears Oseran armor while only Beta wears Carja armor, because Oseran's armor is too heavy and noisy for Beta's stealth strategies, while Carja's armor is too weak for Aloy's melee fighting style.

This AU has an ongoing fanfic! You can read on Ao3: [LINK]

Text transcription:

Ravager's cannon: It gives Isaac the ability to fire rapidly like a Ravager can, but with much more precision. It can also do charged-up shots for more heavy damage. This is the most noiseless ranged weapon from Isaac, allowing the charged shot to be used for sniping. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Stalker Blade Tail: The swiftest and lightest melee weapon from Isaac's arsenal. It's the best pick to fight against lightweight machines and stealth attacks. Its thin shape and ability to spin and move up and down (at an angle of about 120 degrees) can also be used for precision attacks (e.g., to take off machine components or stealth-stabbing humans).

Nora's stealth armor: The natural materials of this armor allow Isaac to camouflage better within the natural landscape. The lack of metal pieces also helps reduce noise while moving. This armor is resistant to shock and ice damage but weak against fire and corrosion damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Thunderjaw’s Disk Launcher: Isaac can use the disks like a Thunderjaw can or launch them at a high speed. It’s not an easy weapon to use, as its recoil can destabilize Isaac if he’s in movement, and it has a very slow recharge, but it’s the heaviest damage dealer from the arsenal. Its firepower can make big explosions and great area damage. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Thunderjaw’s Tail: It is the second heaviest and slowest melee weapon Isaac has, but when used correctly, it can cause great damage to his targets, destroy some types of human constructions, stun machines, and even kill humans on the spot. Its shovel-like shape also allows Isaac to throw objects away (with very poor precision) or even yeet Aloy and Beta to help them reach places or to aid in some fight strategy.

Oseram's tank armor: Made of the best Oseram hard leather and steel, this armor greatly protects Isaac, making him much more resistant to various damage kinds. However, the materials weigh him and consequently slow him down, thus making him sink underwater, and he needs to use more energy for his leaps and high jumps. This armor is highly resistant to corrosion and fire damage but has some weak spots for ice and shock damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Bellowback’ Snout: This weapon is an adapted version of the Bellowback’s ranged elemental weapon for Isaac. It gives him the ability to shoot fire or acid projectiles. It can also be used as a close-range defense weapon; hence, it can be used as a flamethrower or acid jet-like gun as well. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Stormbird’s Tail: Isaac can use this weapon like a Stormbird: an electric whip-like melee weapon, still keeping the shocking damage but in a much smaller range and potency. However, if not used cautiously, the whip can get stuck in places or be grabbed by bigger machines. This tail is also useful for Isaac to balance himself while climbing or walking in places such as metal columns in ruins. Isaac must have this tail equipped to be able to swim underwater correctly.

Carja’s speed armor: The sisters arranged the traditional Carja clothing adornments in a way that makes Isaac more aerodynamic, and the lightness of the materials also helps Isaac run faster, leap further, and jump higher than he normally could. Although pretty, the materials of this armor aren’t made for battle, leaving Isaac vulnerable to all kinds of damage - especially physical damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Scorcher’s Mine Launcher: Aside from the normal mines a scorcher can use, this version of its weapon also has the option to use stick mines. Either version of ammos can be used on battle strategies of timed controlled explosions, as the mines won’t explode until they get hit. These mines have two versions: fire and electric explosions. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Frostclaw’s Front Paw: The closest Isaac will get to “grabby hands” so far. It’s the biggest physical damage dealer but the slowest melee weapon due to its heavy weight. Isaac can not just inflict heavy damage but also use the big hand to grab huge objects and machines way bigger than him. This weapon is so heavy that it may destabilize him during curves at high speed, compromise his balance while climbing, and increase the needed energy to sprint, jump, and leap.

Banuk Power Armor: The Sobecks learned with the Banuk crafting how to improve the energy flow and distribution on a machine. This armor increases Isaac's total stamina energy and reduces the needed charge to sprint, jump, or leap. The improved energy flow also helps increase the damage from Isaac’s melee and ranged weapons. However, the increase in the energy flow makes Isaac heat up way faster if not used correctly. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

[strawberrynull]

──⯎ ˙⛸ ̟ on thin ice

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Park Sunghoon

──Pairing: skater!sunghoon x afab skater!reader

──Genre: angst, fluff, smut

──Synopsis: You've been paired with a new skating partner right before competition. The two of you work well on the ice but off ice, all you do is argue. One day, an argument leads to a heartfelt confession... and more...

──Warnings: cursing, fighting, unprotected sex, size kink, soft dom!hoon,

──A/N: erm... so this is my first time writing something spicy so I'm kinda nervous. I hope its not too bad lol. Please lmk if I could improve this kind of writing in any way. My messages are always open

masterlist

You would have never imagined that skating with the infamous Park Sunghoon would have lead you here- waking up in someone else’s apartment, wearing clothes that weren’t yours.

The past month had been busy with skating practice. Your coach stuck you with a new skating partner, making you have to adapt to his unique skating style only a few weeks before competition. 

Your coach had forced the two of you to hang out off ice often to bond since pair skating needed a real connection between partners. Trust. This was the most important value your coach was working on with you two. You needed to be able to trust that he would never hurt you purposefully. That was kind of a difficult thing to entrust on the Park Sunghoon. He was a short tempered person- he was known for losing his cool with his other skating partners. Hence why you were sceptical about skating with him but your coach insisted. She said that you two were a perfect match.

She may have been right though, There was something about the way you and Sunghoon just seemed to click on the ice. Off ice was a different story.You tried your best to get along with him but he was snarky and rude. Now you understood why he didn't get along with past partners.

“You guys get along so well.” Your coach claimed, one day, cupping her face in awe. You turned to her with a look of genuine shock and confusion. She let out a fake sob, wiping away an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud.” She turned toward you, her eyes pure, assuring you that she wasn’t lying. “What’s with the look dear?”

“Ah, I’m just confused. What do you mean? We get along horribly!” You flung your hands up dramatically. Your coach just laughed.

“Oh dear y/n, you may not see it but I do. I’ve been coaching this prick since the beginning.” 

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.” You said causing your coach to let out a reminiscent sigh.

“You see, y/n,” she motioned for you to come closer, cupping a hand to her mouth. “Sunghoon has never been able to successfully skate with any of his past partners. It frustrated him and he would lash out- calling out every mistake his partner would make and arguing even more off the ice.” You pressed your lips into a small o before your face returned to a confused expression again.

“But…” You started, biting softly at your bottom lip. “We argue a lot off ice too. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“Not at all. You two don’t argue nearly as much as the last girl. And he’s so gentle when he does correct you.” As she rambled, you saw Sunghoon approaching from behind her. You tried your best to shoosh her by putting a finger to your lips. “And the way Sunghoon looks at you…” She said longingly, rocking on her heels. You dropped your head in defeat when Sunghoon snapped his neck toward you and your coach. When you looked back up, he was there towering over you with a disappointed look.

“You called?” He asked sarcastically, glaring down at you through his dark bangs.

“We were talking about our partnership.” You deadpanned, crossing your arms. A look of shock washed over Sunghoons face before returning to his usual cold glare. Your coach slinked away, not wanting to be in between yet another fight.

“A-are we ending the partnership?” Sunghoon stuttered, trying to hold back a worried tone.

“I dunno… it’s not completely off the table yet so…” You trailed off, causing Sunghoon to bite his lower lip. 

“So then you’re considering it?” He asked anxiously. He never acted this way normally. It was almost as if he didn’t want you to leave. “But we’ve been doing so well recently!”

“Sunghoon, nothing is set in stone right now-”

“You’ve never had a partner like me though. Coach told me that you, too, have never been able to connect with any of your partners.” This set something off in your brain. Like stepping on a twig, you snapped.

“Why do you always make things about you? Seriously, not everything is about you, Park Sunghoon! Grow the fuck up!” Sunghoon flinched at your sudden yelling. He stared at you in shock. When he didn’t respond, you mumbled, “Maybe breaking off this partnership would be a good idea.” You turned of your heels to leave.

“Wait, no!: He yelled desperately, reaching his hand out but ultimately pulling it back before you could see.

“What do you mean, ‘no’” You hissed, exaggerating every word. Sunghoon tried to speak but his words were caught in his throat. In his desperation he had trapped himself in a corner. “Hurry up and spit it out. Remember, our partnership is on the line and my patience is running out.”

“Fuck, fine. I don’t want to end our partnership.” He admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat. Your face softened as you realized that maybe, just maybe, he actually cared. “We’ve been doing so well on the ice. We can’t give up right before competition.” Your expression quickly hardened again.

“You only care about this stupid competition! You don’t care about me at all!” You shouted, pointing at him.

“No, y/n, listen.” He said sternly. His eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t listen and continued to yell.

“You’re using me so you can make it to the top!” You poked his chest repeatedly as you spat hollow accusations. Sunghoon clenched his fists, trying not to get angered by your meaningless words. “You never gave a shit!”

“That’s not-”

“That’s not what, Sunghoon? Tell me why i shouldn’t end this partnership right now.” You demanded making him gulp. 

“Please, y/n, you’ve been the first partner I’ve ever trusted this much-” He said, becoming vulnerable before being interrupted by you again.

“Trust!? You wanna talk about fucking trust right now!?” You laughed in disbelief. “I can’t even try to trust you when all you do is argue with me!”

“Then let me help you trust me.” Sunghoon proposed seriously. There was no deceit in his tone.

“W-what?” You stuttered with wide eyes.

“Let me prove to you that you can trust me- that I would never do anything to hurt you.” He said with sincerity laced in his words. He stepped forward, taking your hand in his. “I swear I care about you and not just competition so please give me this chance to make everything up to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that? That’s a big promise, Hoon.” You poke your tongue into the side of your cheek trying to  keep your stern expression. The way he held your hand, though- you couldn’t help but give into his now warm gaze.

His heart melted at the nickname you gave him. He stepped closer and tucked a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Take off your skates and meet me in my car in 5. Then you’ll find out.” He gave a caring smile before leaving the building. 

You didn’t hesitate to rip off your skates like they were filled with bugs. You tossed your stuff into your bag before leaving the building too. You stepped outside and looked around for Sunghoons car. Thankfully it was very hard to spot since his was the only car aside from your own.

When you got to his car and hopped into the passenger seat, he turned to smirk at you with his chin resting in his palm. Your breath hitches as he leans closer to you.

"I knew I wouldn't have to wait long." He says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Can I just kiss you already?" You nod furiously making him chuckle before lightly placing his lips over yours. Sunghoons lips were soft and gentle- the complete opposite of what you expected.

He took his sweet time exploring your mouth as if it would be his last time. His hand found it's way to your chin, tilting it up to gain better access to you. Sunghoon hungrily nips at your lips, wanting more. You grab onto his shirt, whining into the kiss. He squeezes your waist and slightly groans at the feeling of vibration on his lips.

Not too long after, you were on your way to his apartment. You were still in the passenger seat of Sunghoons car with his hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles on your soft skin. The moment felt surreal. You had never seen this side of Park Sunghoon. It was like he was a whole different person but honestly, you were liking the change of events.

As soon as you arrived at his apartment, Sunghoons lustful lips met yours again. You were pushed against the wall, one of Sunghoons hands on your waist and the other lost in your silky hair.

You pull away momentarily causing him to lean towards you, attempting to chase your lips. You put a hand on his chin to lightly push him away, giggling at his actions. "Was this really your master plan for trying to get me to believe you?" You chuckle as he sulks, trying to take your hand off his chin.

"It's working thought, is it not?" He smirks, sliding his hand from your waist into your pants and down to your already soaked panties. Your ears redden as you turn your head, avoiding his gaze. "Is that a yes?" He repeats, pressing his index finger against your clothed pussy.

"Fuck- then you better convince me real good." You demand through clenched teeth, snaking both your arms around his neck and pulling his face back down to your own. He hungrily kisses you, leading you blindly to his room where he pushes you to sit on the bed.

You run your hands up and down his torso as he leaves marks all over your neck. He takes off his shirt and begins tugging at the zipper of your tight skating jacket, urging you to do the same. Sunghoon stares down at you with his hands on your waist. You can see the prominent bulge in his pants grow. He can't take his eyes off you.

"You're so beautiful, fuck, princess." He hisses, palming himself through his pants. You reach down, removing his hand and replacing it with your own. A groan escapes his lips. "Your hand feels so much better than mine." He sighs, letting his head drop onto your shoulder. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin.

He mumbles something onto your skin, making you unable to hear him. You take your hand off his pants and push his forehead forcing him to look at you. He groans at the loss of physical touch. Sunghoon doesn't look into your eyes, instead he can only stare at your lips- your faces only centimeters apart.

"What'd you say?" You whisper against his lips.

"I said, I've been waiting for this moment for so long." He smiles softly before landing his lips on yours while his hand finds its way to the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your thighs. You do the same, helping him remove his pants. The pace of his passionate kisses slow down as he feels every inch of your body. His plump lips move in such a way that no longer feels like lust but rather that he's drunk in love.

His breath gets caught in his throat when he feels you tug down his boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock. It's big and has a nice girth to it. The tip is red and swollen, already leaking pre cum. You wrap your slim fingers around him, moving your hand up and down his shaft. He quickly remembers you calling him selfish earlier and grabs your wrist, removing your hand from him. The sudden desire to please you washes over ever part of him. Your panties are pushed to the side as Sunghoons fingers gently caress your folds, collecting your arousal. You hiss at the sudden contact. He then brings his hand to his length, stroking and rubbing your juices onto his cock. This elicits a groan from Hoon- his dick now aching to have more of you.

"Are you- um.. are you ready, princess?" You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your small figure. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he pushed his tip against your entrance. A whine escaped your lips. You close your eyes, anticipating the feeling of being stuffed with his cock.

And that's just what he did. He slowly pushed more into you, asking every few seconds if you were doing okay. Giggles filled the room when Sunghoon asked for the nth time.

"Why are you so nervous all of a sudden, Hoonie?" You asked stifling laughs.

"You're just so perfect- I don't want to mess this up." He explained in a low voice, covering his face with one of his shaky hands.

"Look at me," you demand, propping yourself up on your elbows and bringing your lips close to his ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard I won't be able to skate tomorrow." You whisper in a low hushed voice.

Sunghoon groans before pushing the rest of his length into you, almost bottoming out completely- he couldn't help himself. A muffled moan slipped past your slightly parted lips.

"Shit you feel... mmh... s-so good." He says through clenched teeth. "Tell me what you need from me. I want you to trust me, princess." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your neck. Your heart warms hearing his selfless desires; putting your feelings before his own.

"Hoon, please move." You whine grasping at his soft hair and moving your head to the side, giving him full access of your exposed neck.

He groans at the nickname you gave him. He begins pushing in and out of you with slow, sensual trusts. He sighs in satisfaction, dropping his head on your shoulder.

A deep moan erupts from your throat. Your face contorts from the pain and pleasure of being filled with Sunghoons cock. Though, he still handles you delicately, which is too slow and soft for your liking.

You bring your hand to cup his flushed cheek. "I told you to fuck me until I can't walk, not fuck me like I'm made of glass." Your thumb rubs circles on the soft skin of his cheek.

"Are you sure you can handle that?" He asks, not meaning to sound intimidating, though it comes off that way.

You snake your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and pull his face close to yours. "Don't underestimate me."

Sunghoons eyes widen at your response. Like a switch has been flipped, his hips start moving on their own. One of his large hands grip your waist as his pace quickens. He grunts, clamping his eyes shut. You gasp in surprise by his sudden actions and by instinct you grip his shoulders harshly, digging your nails into his skin. He hisses before crashing his lips onto yours, presumably to muffle his own moans.

You bring one of your hands up to weave your fingers through the boys dark locks. The sounds of muffled moans and skin slapping fill the room making both you and Sunghoon dizzy.

He pulls away as he runs out of breath, gasping for air. His gasps mixed with desperate moans fill your ears. Your cheeks flush at the thought that he was in so much bliss that he was nearly whining from your touch. His brows were scrunched together as his mouth hung slightly open. You never would have expected that a guy as cold as Sunghoon would be this needy in bed.

You groaned out his name as he pressed his hips forward, burying himself deeper inside your cunt, his larger body towering over you.

"Shit- was that good? Did that feel good?" He asked, trying with all his power to keep his head up to look at your beautiful face. You knew he was trying to sound sexy but he sounded more genuinely concerned than anything. It was endearing that he cared so much about how he was making you feel. Looking back, he had always been this way. Always reassuring you when you did difficult stunts on the ice; he would always make sure you were ready before attempting anything too difficult. He was definitely the type of guy you could fall in love with.

"Hoon, feels s'good..." You groan, tugging lightly at his scalp. He gasps at the pain your fingers cause as he's forced to look down at your smaller figure. Though he urges you to continue pulling at his hair, and you do just that, earning more whines from him.

Sunghoon drops his head onto your shoulder, unable to hold it up any longer. His body drapes over your own so your chests are touching. You could feel him shaking above you like his arms were about to give out at any second. You could tell he was getting closer as his moans became higher in pitch with every thrust of his hips.

"Yn-" he calls your name through a choked gasp.

"Yes, Hoonie?" You answer, lifing his chin so he can look you in the eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip. His damp hair was stuck to his forehead, half pushed to the side in a weak attempt to keep it out of his face. His dark eyebrows furrowed together from the pleasurable bliss you made him feel. He looked like he was in heaven.

"I- ah!" He chokes back moans, trying to form a full sentence but clearly failing to do so. You know what he was trying to say though. You could already tell he was close and so were you. "I'm... cumming..." Oh shit. He was closer than you thought. "Oh fuck... oh- fuck!"

Before you could think, he was already spurting ropes of thick cum, painting your insides white. Sunghoon was whining uncontrollably, burying his face in the crook of your neck. In a quick attempt to silence his noises, he decides to bite down on the soft skin of your neck. A loud moan slips past your lips as you feel your own high rip through you. You claw at his back, leaving many scratch marks that you profusely apologized about later.

Sunghoon continued to piston in and out of your warm pussy sloppily until the very end of your climax. Then he collapses next to you, huffing and panting like he had run a marathon. His arms snake around you to hug your small body from the side. He dips his head down to the crook of your neck, panting soft kisses.

"Shit, Hoon," You jolt upright. "I gotta get home and I don't have my car-"

"Just stay the night then." He replies nonchalantly.

"What?"

"Stay." He groans, pulling you back down to lay next to him. After giving it some thought, you nod hesitantly. You lay back down, scooting back into his embrace. "I really do love you, y'know." Hoon's smooth voice rings through your ears.

"Me too." You say without bothering to look at him.

"Are you being serious?" He asks genuinely, sitting up quickly. His eyes were wide with what was perhaps a relieved expression.

You turn around to look him in the eyes, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek before reassuring him. "Yes, Hoon. I love you." You chuckle as he lays back down next to you, leaving many happy kisses all over your pretty face.

In the morning, you woke up in an almost unfamiliar room. Though, it wasn't really unfamiliar after you remembered what had happened the night prior. Now you remembered where you were. That's how you ended up in Park Sunghoons bed.

© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You

[shotmrmiller]

Not a dog, but a rat pt.II

2,3k nsfw mdni

This is home now.

The stale odor of sweat that once assaulted your senses is now familiar. The biting tang of iron no longer constricts your throat with its pungency. The dim lights that flicker overhead, bathing both spectators and fighters in a sickly glow doesn't leave you lightheaded anymore.

It's a constant. Adaptation is the first word that comes to mind— a process that's helped you survive in this new environment— but then Simon turns his attention to you from across the room.

He sits on a bench, a solitary figure amidst the chaos of this rowdy place. His knuckles are wrapped in tape and has got white buds in his ears— the way he channels his focus, a barrier between him and everything else. His stare is heavy, thick with an emotion you can't, or won't, name. But you can feel it. It pricks at your nerve endings, like tiny claws. It stirs within your chest, sending your heart aflutter with anticipation, tinged with a hint of fear. A wave of heat washes over you, blooming in your cheeks and warming your stomach; an admission.

Acceptance.

You break away from his intense gaze with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

This is your reality.

The fighters, the brawls, the dirty money, the blood— it's no longer just Simon's world. It's yours too. It's crusted beneath your fingernails and stuffed inside the pull-out couch you sleep on.

(Day number: ??? of begging Simon to buy you a proper mattress since he won't get a flat of his own)

It's waking every morning to soothe battered skin, fix broken noses, and ice black eyes.

Home— something brushes the tip of your ear, getting your attention— sweet...

home.

"What's a kleine maus like you doing in a gritty place like this?" His voice cuts through the cacophony of sounds that resound in the pit. A giant among men. Pallid skin, sinewy muscle taut over bone. A network of blue rivers runs through his arm, visible under the light as he reaches out to coil a lock of your hair around his long finger that resembles bare branches in winter.

"Katze got your tongue?" His grin sends a shiver up your spine. It lacks the warmth of life as if someone carved it out of frost-bitten marble. Fissure-like scars stretch across his face, bisecting a thick brow. Jagged lines of silver on his gaunt cheeks, the corner of his mouth and chin.

And one scar runs from the base of his aquiline nose— a thin, rosy mark, strangely delicate looking— down to his thin upper lip. The result of a congenital defect. Human. Unlike his eyes: a cold, stark blue devoid of light.

Your instincts scream, to run, to flee but deep-seated fear has you paralyzed, like gnarled roots snaking around your ankles, gripping tight, holding you captive. An even smaller part of your mind tells you that it'd be futile. There's no escaping this predator.

His eyes narrow a whit, the corners of his inhumane smile dropping. Anxiety has your thoughts in a Gordian knot— unease twisting and looping in the pit of your belly. You can feel the beginning pricks of pain on your scalp, the strands of hair he's got a hold of being pulled taut, stretched like a bridge.

Tears well up in your eyes unbidden.

"If you won't talk, then you'll sing." A threat. You're a marionette in his hands, and he's about to jerk the strings.

A gloved hand shoots out like a coiled snake, encircling his wrist, the leather groaning under the strain of his iron grip. "I'd let go o' her if I were you."

The grip on your hair slackens, relief flowing through you, thick and palpable. John stands in front of you with squared, broad shoulders and a set jaw— a shield between the stranger and you. It doesn't matter, however, because the stranger's towering stature is surreal, dwarfing even John's considerable height.

"König. Where is your handler? Wretched mongrels like you ought to remain leashed." John spits out, his facial hair contorting as he sneers. Your hand tentatively seeks his and you draw a shuddering breath when the comforting warmth of his presence seeps through the fabric of his gloves and melts into your clammy skin.

"Horangi?" He cocks his head, sunken eyes flashing to yours. A faint whimper escapes your tightly sealed lips and an amused look dances across his features. "Around looking for you, I imagine. I am not my inhaber's keeper." The mocking lilt in his gravelly tone doesn't go unnoticed. John's hand tightens around yours. "Besides. I was merely," he pauses, licking the front of his crooked teeth, "meeting her acquaintance. Ja, Fräulein?"

Your heart races, pounding against your ribcage as he addresses you, but John remains the immovable object. "Don't." His voice is a barely contained growl. "I won't be tellin' you again."

The authority in John's words is unignorable. It wipes the remnants of König's mirth off his face. There's a shift in the air then, electricity prickling at your nerves, raising the hair on the back of your neck. A storm is brewing. Your shoulders tighten, as does your hand, awaiting the impending crack of thunder.

"Boss." Just like that, the singular word cuts through the thickened atmosphere, lightening the oppressive tension between them two. "Problem?"

Simon comes to stand next to John, shoulder to shoulder. Reinforcing the wall you're hidden behind.

John sucks his teeth. "I don't think so. König?" It's not a question.

"Nein. No problem." Your eyes are lowered to the mud-slick floor as he leaves. You counted 14 littered betting slips.

John's grip loosens around your hand, leaning in to murmur something into Simon's ear before turning to you. "Gotta be careful 'round these types. Best stick with one of us, eh?" Another not a question.

It doesn't take much to guess what exactly he told him, not with that wild glint in his eye that he's currently looking at you with. It burns with ferocity, untamed and fervent. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and swiftly lifts you over his shoulder and carves a path through the drunken onlookers, ignoring the stares and taunting cat whistles as he heads towards the locker room.

The door slams against the wall as he kicks it open, the sound reverberating through the room. placing you down on one of the benches roughly, making you grimace at the jolt of brief pain that shoots up your back on impact.

"Simon!" His long strides already have him rounding the corner towards the showers, out of sight. "Arsehole. Tossing me around like some—" you startle when he suddenly reappears, the rest of the sentence sinking into your stomach, his face twisted with rage.

"Where'd he touch you?" He demands, casting a dark shadow over you as he looms.

His arrogant tone snaps the wisp-thin thread of patience you dangled from. "Listen, Ghost, I—" Your words are cut short as his large hand wraps around the underside of your jaw, fingers dimpling your cheeks with an unforgiving grip.

"No lip from you. Not right now." His command is final. Powerless in his hold, you can only gaze up at him with eyes wide with incredulity and a slightly puckered mouth.

"'M no' askin' again. Did he touch you here?" His other hand grazes the side of your head, featherlight, by your ear.

A nod.

"Wha' about 'ere?" Fingertips trail lines of intimacy from your cheek straight down to the column of your neck, lingering by your fluttering pulse.

A shake.

"'S good. I'd be obligated to erase 'is touch with my own. Isn't tha' right, pet? Only I get to touch you. Eh?" He rumbles, his words laced with a proprietary edge that tangle around your spine.

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw. The implication is clear. It's a claim, a brand on your flesh, a line drawn in the sand no one will ever dare cross.

Exclusive.

You made your choice long ago; it only took you this long to come to terms with it. It's bittersweet as it goes down your throat.

A slow nod.

"Good girl." His hand falls away from your face as he leans in. "Now remind me. Where else he touch ya?" Possessive. Intense. All-consuming.

Your eyes flick to the door with no lock and he gets your wordless message. "Kyle's on standby. No one's allowed t'see you like this but me."

The bench creaks under the shift of weight as he sits on it. His hands, firm and assertive, pull you across the wooden surface with ease, draping your legs over his own.

"Talk to me or I leave you here," his gaze drags down from the smooth skin of your neck down the swell of your chest, to your clothed sex. It's like an oil spill, spreading unchecked, leaving behind a slick residue of heat. "Wantin'. I can smell it fr'm 'ere."

Ironic how he barely says a word any other time, but apparently will chat up a storm during this poor excuse of foreplay.

"He—," you choke out, "he didn't touch me anywhere else."

Simon looks at you through half-lidded eyes as his steady hand disappears beneath the fabric of your shirt. "Didn't touch ya here?" His fingers teasingly follow the curve of your bare breast. You shake your head mutedly.

"No? How about 'ere?" The pad of his thumb brushes against your stiffened peak, swirling it once, twice. You clench your jaw to keep from making a sound. Another shake.

He pinches it lightly before rolling it between his thumb and index. "'S good." He moves down to just below your navel, the whisper of contact trailing fire on your tender flesh. "I know he didn't touch 'ere."

No, he didn't. Neither has Simon, until now.

"Nor here." He unbuttons the front of your jeans and grabs the pull of your zipper, the clicking of the metal teeth like the ticking of a clock, counting down to what's about to happen. The damp air in the showers is thick with anticipation. His eyes never leave yours, pinning you in place like a butterfly on display, as he curls his fingers around the waistband of both your jeans and knickers.

You only get a moment's pause, to stop this train in its tracks but it's fleeting, like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.

He pulls down, taking everything off of one leg completely and letting it bunch up around the other, pooling at your ankle. He exhales a sharp, ragged breath.

"I'd fuck you, but this isn't the place f'r it." Simon spits on his fingers and lightly drags them along your folds, lathering your cunt with his makeshift lube.

You gasp sharply when he catches your pearl, flicking it gently with a tip of his finger. Your back arches at the startling sensation. "Should've let me see this pretty pussy months ago, pet. Would've made your life and mine a hell of a lot easier."

He continues moving his hand along your wet heat, a torturously slow drag that kindles the fire in your belly, the occasional swirl of your pearl stoking it expertly.

"Barely doin' a thing 'nd you're already drippin' onto the bench." You don't look between your legs, refuse to actually, because you know that there's a puddle of arousal pooling beneath you. You can feel it; slick. slippery. warm.

Simon sinks a finger into you, down to the knuckle and oh, that pinprick of pain that sinks its sharp teeth around the pleasure he's built up is exquisite.

"Fuck," he groans, reflexively bucking his hips up into nothing. "Little prick ex of yours also had a tiny cock. Bloody tight." His impossibly long finger brushes over the rough patch of skin, somewhere you can never reach on your own, stealing the breath from your lungs. "I'll 'ave to stretch ya open," he adds a second finger, this time the burn flares. It doesn't stop until it's all the way in, where the ache finally fades, only leaving behind a residual warmth that throbs gently in the aftermath. "I'll make my cock fit." The usual deep timbre of his voice sounds rougher, huskier. Heady arousal barely restrained.

Another graze over your sweet spot, and this time, a high-pitched mewl spills from your lips. "Tha' it?" He hits it with pinpoint accuracy, over and over again, until your cunt begins to squelch lewdly; an obscene, sticky sound that somehow bounces off the grimy tile walls.

"Gonna cum f'me?" Your core constricts, vise-like around him, muscles tensing tight. Teasing, taunting, against the push and pull of his thick fingers, caught between surrender and defiance. But his rhythm insists and persists.

You bob your head stupidly, a jerky up and down. The room around you is spinning, arousal the wine that trickles through your system, usual sharpened edges blurring.

You're lost, but sure.

"Let me have it, then." Your thighs quiver atop his, trying to squeeze together, to keep him right there, right there, there—

All you ever have to do is ask him, pet.

There's a snap, a feeling of something giving way, and your mind floods white.

All you've ever got to do is ask.

It takes you a bit to come back to earth from the dizzying heights you were launched to. The buzzing in your mind, your ears, beneath your skin, begins to quiet. Vivid turns muted, colors and sounds dull.

Simon quickly lowers his joggers, just enough to take himself out and tugs his painfully hardened cock a couple of times, an unsteady twist of his wrist and he lets out a groan behind grit teeth as he comes. Warmth coats your puffy cunt, dribbling down your thighs and onto the bench.

When Simon leads you out of the locker room, Kyle looks at the both of you with a solemn expression on his face. His stance is rigid, the lines of his body drawn taut. It sets you on edge.

"Ghost," he nods. "Johnny's fightin' the big freak that had his paws all over your girl. Tried to talkin' him out o' it, but you know better than anyone how he is."

You know Johnny can handle his own. Always has. But this time, it feels different. Inevitable. Why?

[recycledmoviecostumes]

The blend of romance and horror in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies set the stage for a unique twist on classic literature, proving that even elegant ball gowns can become a fierce weapon against the undead in this groundbreaking parody-horror genre.

The 2016 film adaptation of Seth Grahame-Smith's parody of Jane Austen's original novel saw Lena Headley as Lady Catherine de Bourgh, wearing this magnificent purple velvet redignote.

The very next year, the costume was spotted again on an extra episode of Doctor Who entitled Thin Ice.

Are you curious to know more? bit.ly/RegRom142

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

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(For ambiance~)

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Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

[wiz-writes]

In Out of the Yinshan, you play as a spy sent to infiltrate a well-known Manor in order to recover a legendary sword.

Yet the mission turns out to be more than you bargained for as you find yourself walking on thin ice and questioning your loyalties, all the while an invisible hand keeps pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

Genre: wuxia, romance, mystery

Rating: 15 for some dark themes

Last update: 9 May 2024

Play as a man or woman.

Customise your appearance and shape your new persona.

Train and improve your skills to reach new heights of power.

Build friendships or start a romance with one of four characters.

Navigate your new life as a guard of a noble, explore the Manor and uncover its secrets.

Be mindful of both your words and actions to avoid suspicion and keep your head a little longer.

Let yourself be swayed by a desire for freedom; or remain steadfast and loyal to those who made you.

You are one of the Yinshan Society - a tool sharpened to perfection to be then used by your Elders as they see fit.

Your life is not your own, that much you know. However, that changes nothing about where your loyalties lie. For you, Yinshan has always been a light in the darkness.

So when your new mission brings you to the famous Hua Manor in search of a legendary sword, you take on the challenge of becoming someone else - someone you never had the chance to be.

You quickly adapt to the Manor's ways, training and fulfilling your duties while keeping a low profile as you begin your investigation. But the mysterious incidents that follow your arrival have everyone, including you, on edge.

Your past has taught you not to trust anyone, yet the more time you spend in the Manor and get to know its residents, the more your conviction starts to waver.

Is Yinshan truly all that your life amounts to?

DEMO

COG Forum || KO-FI

THE PRODIGY

Su Feixia (F)

The only child of the Su family, Su Feixia is considered to be both smart and beautiful. She excels in literature and music, and she has more than proven to be capable of taking over her parents' business. Yet despite her privileged upbringing, she continues to be humble and kind.

You are her guard, accompanying the young lady to the Hua Manor.

THE GUARDIAN

Wei Qing (M)

One of the residents of the Manor, Wei Qing is a high-ranking guard that has lived there for a few years, steadily climbing the ranks through training and hard work. He puts his duty above all else, which has earned him respect, as well as a rather fearsome reputation.

He is your superior in the Manor, overseeing your training.

THE HEIRESS

Hua Lingyun (F)

The oldest of three children of the Hua family and their only daughter, Hua Lingyun spends most of her days training with weaponry and running from her responsibilities. She is to become the head of the family, which is something she's having trouble coming to terms with as she enjoys having her freedom.

She takes care of the Manor guests this year, in place of her sick father.

THE TEACHER

Xu Yuan (M)

A bit of an enigma for most of the people living in the Manor, Xu Yuan is a master swordsman of few words. Nobody seems to know much about him, except that he's been staying in the Manor for a while and that he appears to be a good friend of Master Hua. However, his cold and distant personality manages to keep his many admirers at arm's length.

He is in charge of your weapon training.

[lee-laurent]

Beaten and Bruised - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke and Sylvie struggle to find their soulmates

content: soulmate au! injuries, bruises, blood, fainting, a bit of angst, fluff!

wc: 5.6k

notes: enjoy guys!! trying to get back in the groove of writing :) not proofread

Sylvie Williams had always wondered what kind of person her soulmate might be. The thought of having someone out there--a complete stranger with a connection so deep they could feel each other's pain--was thrilling yet terrifying. She had gotten used to the faint bruises, and occasional sharp stabs that would catch her by surprise--reminding her of their existence.

She could still remember when she first learned of the bond. She was a little girl, waking up with a nasty gash on her cheek, blood on her pillow. She'd stared at herself in the mirror before bursting into tears. How could that have happened in her sleep? She had sprinted down to her parents room, barely able to contain herself between sobs. Her parents knew exactly what it meant, though. They'd sat her down and explained what was happening to her in the way only parents could.

"Somewhere out there," her mother said softly, "you have someone who will be with you for life, someone who will be there through everything. Thick and thin. You're meant to be together."

At first, it sounded magical--a storybook kind of connection, where she and this mysterious other person were linked to live happily ever after. But over the years, as the scrapes and bruises began to add up, Sylvie learned that fate wasn't always gentle. Her soulmate was clearly living life in the fast lane, and they seemed to collect injuries like they were Pokemon. Sometimes it was as simple as a dull ache in her side that lasted a few hours. Other times, she'd wake up with sore ribs or throbbing knuckles, feeling as if she'd just lost a fight. And one time, she woke up with a broken ankle... that one was fun.

She used to try and imagine what he was doing. Had they been in a car accident? A bad fall? She'd picture them as an adventurer or someone with a dangerous job. But was time went on, she learned not to dwell on it. She couldn't stop them from getting hurt, and the constant worrying became exhausting. Instead, she liked to think that each bruise was a sign that they were out there living their best life.

The constant random injuries had become so much a part of her that her friends had adapted to joking about it, especially her roommate Mia.

"Another bruise?" Mia asked, spotting a fresh mark on Sylvie's shin as she emerged from the bathroom. Sylvie looked down, barely surprised.

"Oh, yeah. Probably nothing," she replied with a grin, rolling her eyes as she rubbed at it. "They must be busy this week. Either that or they've taken up skateboarding."

"Or cliff diving," Mia smirked. "Maybe they're a stunt double."

Sylvie laughed, though it did seem her soulmate had a limitless capacity for injuries. It didn't bother her most days, it made them feel real. She felt them in the faintest aches and though it did hurt, the mystery was comforting. They were out there somewhere, even if they felt worlds away.

For Luke Hughes, pain was something he'd come to tolerate pretty well. As a hockey player, a professional one at that, taking hits and bouncing back was part of the game, an occupational hazard he gladly accepted. But for all the pain he endured on the ice, there were always the other bruises--the ones that weren't his.

It wasn't something he talked about much, even to his brothers, who had all grown up experiencing the same thing. They would occasionally joke about it, but Luke rarely mentioned it. He tried not to think about his soulmate too often, chalking it up as one of those things that just came with being human. But when he was alone, on late nights or long flights after away games, he couldn't help but imagine what they'd be like.

He figured they had to be as accident-prone as he was--maybe more. He remembered his first high school game, how he'd come home sore, only to feel a strange, unearned ache in his ribs a few days later. It seemed like they'd traded injuries without even knowing it.

"You got a twin out there taking hits for you, Rusty?" Nico teased as Luke winced, a dull pain radiating up his side like he'd just bumped into the corner of a counter.

"Must be my soulmate, I guess," Luke shrugged. "Either that or I've got a ghost that keeps beating me up."

"Poor girl," Nico snorted. "I'd hate to be the one taking all your hits."

"I'll try not to break anything this season," he muttered as he tied up his skates. He really wished he could apologize for the pain he'd caused her, but then again... she was serving it right back at him.

~~

Sylvie wasn't the biggest sports fan ever. She'd gone to occasional football game in high school, but hockey was foreign to her, something she associated with people fighting just because they felt like it. It had never occurred to her to watch a professional game, but this was about to be about "new experiences"--Mia's words, not hers.

"C'mon, Sylvie!" Mia pleaded, pulling her along outside Prudential Center as they joined the sea of red-and-black jerseys streaming into the arena. "You never do stuff like this! It'll be fun."

Sylvie laughed, letting herself get caught up in Mia's excitement. "All right, fine. But if I get hit with a puck, I'm holding you responsible."

"Oh, relax. We're nowhere near the ice," Mia dismissed her. "Besides, the only thing you'll get hit by is a serious case of hockey heart eyes. I mean, have you seen these guys? Just wait 'til you see Luke Hughes. You won't regret it."

"I think you underestimate my resilience to heart eyes," Sylvie joked, pulling her jacket a little closer to her body. The arena was packed and she couldn't help but make a face as she was jostled trying to walk through the doors.

They made their way to their seats, a decent section with a clear view of the rink, but not close enough she'd get hit. Sylvie had never experienced the atmosphere of waving foam fingers and signs with players' names on them, and she began to think she might actually enjoy herself.

"Look, there he is!" Mia said, nudging her roommate and pointing toward the players on the ice.

Sylvie squinted, watching the players skate in circles. They were like video game characters, moving so fast she could barely keep track of who was who. But then she noticed him--Number 43, Luke Hughes, the tall denfenceman with light brown hair curling under his helmet. He stood out, as if he demanded her attention without even trying.

Mia leaned over, whispering excitedly. "Total dreamboat, right? Wouldn't you be lucky if he was your soulmate!! I mean, yours is always getting hurt, right?"

"Please. What are the chances he's a pro athlete? Knowing my luck, he's probably a rock climber or something."

But Mia's words did plant a tiny seed of curiousity in her mind. Hockey was an incredibly physical sport, filled with endless risks and injuries. Her soulmate always seemed like he led an active life. She shook her head, laughing it off. It was ridiculous to even consider.

The lights dimmed, and the music kicked up, rattling the arena. The fans roared as the game officially began and Sylvie felt the excitement ripple through her. The players skates carving up the ice with sharp precision. She tried to keep track of who had the puck and where it was going, but her eyes kept drifting to Luke. He moved awfully gracefully for such a rough game, his every move controlled.

Then, it happened.

Sylvie didn't even see the first hit coming. She was finally watching the puck when Luke collided with another player, slamming hard into the boards. A loud thud that made her wince--and then, a sharp sting in her shoulder, a burst of pain that caught her off guard. She gasped, reaching up to rub the sore spot.

What was that?

She tried to ignore it, shaking her head. Probably just a coincidence. Maybe she'd slept funny. But a few minutes later, Luke took another hit, this time falling to the ice as he scrambled for control of the puck. And again, Sylvie felt an ache in her side, like she'd fallen over.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers absently brushing the spot that throbbed with pain. No way, she thought, her heartrate picking up. She tried to dismiss it, but the connection was too uncanny, too perfectly timed. She looked at Mia, who was busy cheering.

"Mia," she whispered, trying to sound casual. "Do you... do you ever feel pain when someone else gets hurt? Like, weird, out-of-nowhere pain?"

"Uh, only when my soulmate is being clumsy. But he's usually fine," she paused, noticing Sylvie's uneasy expression. "Why? You feeling something?"

She nodded slowly, not wanting to seem insane. "It's just... Every time that guy--Luke Hughes--takes a hit, I feel it too. Like... really feel it."

"Oh my god. You think he's your soulmate?"

"No! No, it's probably just a coincidence. It has to be."

But it became impossible to ignore. Every hit that Luke took, every time he went down or got tangled with another player, Sylvie felt a corresponding jolt of pain. By the second period, she was clutching her seat, trying to process it.

"This can't be real," she mumbled, though the evidence was impossible to deny.

"You okay?" Mia asked, watching her with growing concern.

"I... I don't know." She looked back at Luke, watching him as he skated down the rink. Part of her was exhilerated, the idea of her soulmate being someone so cool, so driven. But another part of her was scared. If it was real, he had no idea how much he was putting her through.

And then, as if on cue, everything fell apart.

In the third period, Luke took an extra hard hit. Sylvie saw it coming--she saw the player rushing at him, the brutal speed of the collision as Luke went down. The crowd gasped as Luke lay on the ice a moment, collecting himself.

But Sylvie didn't see what happened next. The instant he hit the ice, a searing, white-hot pain flared in hre chest, unlike anything she'd ever felt. The shock of it ripped through her, consuming every thought, every sense, until all she could feel was pain.

She barely heard Mia's shout of concern as her vision blurred, the edges of her world fading into darkness. The last thing she remembered was the sting of the hit, and then everything went black.

~~

The next time Sylvie opened her eyes, she was lying under bright, sterile lights, quiet beeping filling the room. She blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. Her body felt heavy, her chest aching as though she'd been run over.

"Oh, thank god. You scared the life out of me."

"What... happened?" her voice was hoarse.

"You fainted. At the game, after Hughes took that hit," Mia explained. "Sylvie, I think he's really your soulmate. The timing, the pain--it all lines up."

Sylvie's cheeks flushed, and she tried to laugh it off despite her shaky voice. "You think Luke Hughes is my soulmate?"

"Just saying that it makes total sense! I mean, think about it. The hits, the pain, the last one that made you fucking faint, Sylv!"

Sylvie laid back, trying to take it all in. Deep down, she knew Mia was right but she didn't want to believe it. His life was a worlds away from hers. And the thought filled her with exictement and dread. Lots and lots of dread.

~~

After Sylvie was discharged, she and her friends gathered at her apartment, eager to plan their next move. Mia, Jenna, and Casey were practically bouncing in their seats as they went over ideas, each one wilder than the last.

"So, first thing's first," Mia began, "we need to get you close to him. Figure out if your bruises match."

"Yeah, but how?" Casey chimed in. "Not like we can just show up at the rink and expect him to be all, 'Oh hey, you must be my soulmate!'"

"What about a fan event?" Jenna scrolled through her phone. "The Devils do meet-and-greets, right? I bet we could get tickets to one of those."

Sylvie's eyes widened. "Are you serious? You guys actually want to try and... meet him?"

"Why not? Mia grinned. "It's perfect. If he's really your soulmate, we can test it out in person. See if he reacts the same when you're face-to-face."

Sylvie laughed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I don't know. I mean... it sounds a little... stalkerish? Like, we don't know if he'd be open to this at all. He has no idea who I am."

"Come on, Sylvie! This isn't some stranger," Jenna argued. "This is literally your soulmate. Fate, destiny, all that shit. You can't just sit here and wait for him to stumble across you, can you?"

Part of Sylvie wanted to dive in, to test the bond, to finally meet the person she'd been connected to for so long. But she also felt grossly unprepared, like stepping into his world would be an invasion.

"I just... I don't want to freak him out. If he's really my soulmate, I want to meet him naturally, not... not like some crazy fan ambushing him."

"We get it, Sylv. But there's got to be some way to find out for sure."

After a moment of silence, Casey perked up, snapping her fingers. "What if we watch another game? You know, see if you feel anything. That way, we're not being weird or invasive... just testing the theory. You can watch from a safe distance, and if it happens again, we'll be sure."

Sylvie's eyes brightened as she listened to her friend. "That actually sounds... reasonable."

"There we go! Next game's on Saturday. We'll grab snacks, make a night of it. And if you start flinching or passing out again, then we'll have our answer."

~~

That Saturday night, the girls settled into the couch, snacks and drinks ready, the Devils game queued up on the TV. Sylvie tried to relax, though her nerves were super on edge. She wasn't sure what outcome she was hoping for. Maybe neither. Maybe she'd just got to bed and pretend none of it ever happened.

The game began and the camera panned to the players, the crowd roaring, and Sylvie felt her heart skip when she saw Luke, tall and confident.

"Look at him," Jenna said with a wink. "You got lucky in the soulmate department."

"Shut up," Sylvie blushed.

As the game progressed, Luke took a few minor bumps, the usual hockey stuff. But each time, Sylvie felt it.

Mia's eyes widened when Sylvie winced, giving her arm an excited squeeze. "It's him. It's really him, isn't it?"

Then, toward the end of the second period, Luke took a fall, tripping over nothing in particular. Sylvie gritted her teeth as pain shot through her ribs. She doubled over, clutching her side, her breathing shallow until the ache subsided. Her friends hovered around her, their concern mixed with awe.

"You okay?" Jenna gently rubbed her back.

"Yeah... just hurts like a bitch."

Mia leaned back, her expression triumphment. "Well, I'd say we got our answer. Luke Hughes is most definitely your soulmate."

It was real. He was real. The constant reminder of someone else's presence had a face, a name, and a story. And now, all she had to do was find a way to tell him.

~~

Luke's ribs were still sore from his stupid fall as he leaned against his stall, unlacing his skates with careful, slow movements. The hit he'd taken the other night was beyond brutal, even for him. He'd gone down hard, and though he'd been able to shake it off, falling again just made it worse.

The locker room buzzed with their usual post-practice chatter, but today there was a new current of gossip, something that Luke couldn't ignore.

"Did you guys hear about the girl that fainted the other night?" Jack said, dropping onto the bench next to him.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "What girl?"

Jack leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. "So get this--apparently some girl in the stands fainted right when you took that hit. Like, right in the middle of the third period. Security had to carry her out. Everyone thinks it was from you getting rocked."

The rest of the team chuckled, but Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Maybe she just had a thing for seeing people get hurt. Or blood."

"I'm serious," his brother insisted. "I'm telling you, man, she saw you hit the boards and dropped like a rock."

Luke tried to laugh it off, but it made his pulse quicken. He was used to having fans--hockey was a thrilling sport and people loved watching it. But the timing was... strange. He'd taken loads of hits before but he never imagined anyone fainting at the sight of it, not unless there was more to it.

"Come on, guys, lay off 'im," Nico clapped him on the back with a wink. "She was probably just some hopeless romantic. 'Oh, my hero, Luke Hughes, so tragically thrown into the boards!'" He put a hand on his forehead dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny," Luke muttered, half-listening as his teammates continued to crack jokes. Fainting at the exact time he hit the boards? The coincidence as uncanny. It was probably nothing, but... what if?

Could she be...? No. The odds were so small, and it was crazy to even consider it a possibility. Jack was just pulling his leg. It was all just some stupid joke at his expense. There was no way... unless...

~~

Luke couldn't shake the idea for the next few days. He thought about it during practice, while watching film, even on the drives home. His usual routine felt off, as if something was missing, and he found himself looking out into the stands during games, scanning the sea of faces for one he wouldn't even recognize.

It was strange, looking for a person he knew so intimately without having met. The idea of meeting her, of actually seeing her face and finding out who she was, was... terrifying.

In the days that followed, he took any excuse to be where fans would be, hoping he might spot her. He'd sign autographs after practice, spend longer at fan events, stand near the entrance after games. Each time, he'd hope for a sign, an instinct that would pull him to her. Tell him, there she is. That's her. But the crowds just blended together, each face unrecognizable and not comforting in the slightest.

His teammates started to notice. Jack in particular seemed to find it hilarious, trailing after Luke wherever he lingered, making sly comments.

"Looking for someone, Rusty?" Jack asked with a knowing grin as Luke craned his neck to look at the fans leaving the stadium. "Maybe that girl from the game?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing." Luke felt the frustration gnawing away at him. The whole thing felt ridiculous. He didn't even know if the story was true, if the girl was really out there, but he couldn't let it go. No matter how hard he tried, he felt a pull as if she were waiting for him to find her.

Jack laughed, clapping him on the back. "Dude, I get it. You think she's your soulmate, don't ya?"

Luke looked away, trying to play it cool. "I don't know, maybe. I just... I just want to know who she is."

Jack gave him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, don't worry. If she's out there, I'm sure you'll find her. And if not, we'll get a whole fan campaign going-- hashtag find Luke's soulmate or something. The media would love it."

"Please no campaigns. The last thing I need is to look like some desperate romantic."

"Who's desperate?" Nico chimed in. "Looks to me like you're finally taking an interest in finding your soulmate."

"Alright, alright," Luke shook them off. He wanted to believe his teammates were right, that somehow, fate would make this happen without him forcing it. But each day that passed without a glimpse of her only made him more determined.

~~

Weeks went by, and his hope began to wear thin. He tried to push it to the back of his mind, focusing on hockey, his training, his routines. But every so often, he'd find himself searching the stands during warmups. The spark of excitement he'd felt at first had faded, leaving a persistent ache that had nothing to do with injuries.

"Maybe she's playing hard to get," Jack mused one afternoon. "You could always start hanging out at local cafés. Who knows? Maybe she's right under your nose."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'll just put an ad in the paper: 'If you fainted during that one game, meet me in section 103.'"

"That could work. You'd have half the girls in Jersey showing up though."

"Not really what I'm going for, but thanks."

By the end of the month, Luke had begun to accept that if might be a long time before he found her, if he ever did. Some people never met their soulmates, spending their lives with only the reminders of someone else's existance. In fact, Luke knew people that got married even though they weren't soulmates because they'd given up. He didn't want to worry about that, but since the fainting incident, it was hard to ignore.

~~

Sylvie hadn't expected much from a girls' night out, but that was part of the appeal. After the last few weeks of "Operation Find Luke" (or "Operation Don't Stalk Luke" as she called it), she was ready to leave the soulmate drama at home for the night. The recent bruises had done nothing to calm her nerves, and she was desperate for a break. Tonight, it would just be her friends, drinks, and lots of laughter.

The chose a cozy bar, crowded but not packed. Sylvie ordered a cocktail, letting herself sink into the moment, a little thrill building at the idea of forgetting everything for a night.

Mia nudged her as the drinks arrived. "Here's to no more swooning over mysterious hockey players," she teased, raising her glass.

Sylvie laughed, clinking her glass with Mia's. "To a drama-free night."

The girls settled into a fun night, oblivious to anything outside their circle. But, as fate would have it, that peace didn't last long. Not ten minutes into their second round of drinks, Jenna's eyes went wide.

"Oh my god," Jenna whispered, elbowing her friends. "Isn't that... Nico Hischier?"

Nico Hischier, captain of the Devils, was leaning against the bar with a group of friends. Seeing him there made everything feel real for Sylvie again, like the whirlwind of the last few weeks had come rushing back at once.

"Oh god," she muttered, quickly looking away. "Act normal. If we ignore him, maybe he won't notice us."

"Fat chance of that," Mia teased. "D'you know what the chances are? This is fate!"

Before Sylvie could stop her, Mia slid out of her seat and strolled over to the bar, striking up conversation with Nico like they were old friends. Sylvie watched in horror as Mia introduced herself, gesturning back to their table with a smile. Nice glanced their way, nodding politely.

"Mia's actually talking to him," Sylvie whispered half to herself. "We're fucking doomed."

Jenna giggled. "Relax. What's the worst that could happen?"

A few minutes later Mia returned with a triumphant smile. "Okay, ladies, don't freak out, but I invited Nico and his friends to join us."

"You did what?"

Mia shrugged casually. "What? He was nice! And it's not everyday you get to hang out with the captain of an NHL team. Besides, I may have mentioned that we've been trying to get in touch with a certain Luke Hughes..."

Sylvie's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, Mia. No."

"Hey, thanks for letting us crash girls' night," Nico smiled. "Mia tells me you're a fan of the team?"

"More or less," Jenna said with a grin, shooting Sylvie a look. "Sylvie might be a little more invested than the rest of us."

"Oh, you know... casual fan." She shot a look at Mia, who merely smirked in response.

Nico chuckled, catching on with a knowing smile. "You know, Mia mentioned you've been looking for Luke. Something about... maybe being his soulmate?"

"Oh, I... I mean..." She fumbled for words, feeling horribly exposed. She hadn't planned on spilling her entire, complicated soulmate saga to Nico Hischier in a bar.

Nico's expression softened. "Look, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but... if this is legit, I think Luke would want to know. He's been looking for someone, too."

"He... has?"

"He doesn't say much, but he's been acting... different. Like he's got something on his mind. We all just thought he'd met someone who might be his soulmate."

Before she could process any of his words, a new voice joined the conversation. "Hey, Neeks, you're hogging all the fun over here."

She turned and froze. Standing next to Nico was Luke himeslf, towering and unmistakably familiar even in regular clothes. He wore a small, curious smile.

And then their eyes met.

It was like the rest of the world faded away, the chatter and music melting away. There was something pulling them to each other. It felt like meeting someone she'd known her whole life, someone who lived happily in the quietest corners of her mind. A look of recognition crossed Luke's face.

Neither of them moved, too caught up in the intensity of the connection. Then, almost as if compelled, he took a step forward, reaching his hand out.

"Hi... I'm Luke."

"Sylvie," she managed, her hand slipping into his.

A current ran between them, a strange, electric feeling filled the space between them.

"Wow," he murmured. "This... this is real, isn't it?"

She nodded, too overwhelmed to say much, a giddy smile breaking across her face. "Yeah... I think so."

"We'll leave you guys to it," Jenna smirked.

"Wanna head somewhere quieter?" Luke offered, earning a nod in return.

Luke held Sylvie's hand, leading her through the crowd and out onto the quiet sidewalk. The air was cool, refreshing compared to to the warmth inside. Outside, things felt a little more real.

This was Luke--her soulmate, her literal other half--and he was standing there, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

"So," Luke began, "I guess we should start by saying... it's nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, mystery man. I can't believe this is happening."

"Me neither. I was wondered who you were. I mean, I grew up with all these bruises and aches. Half the time, I thought I was making it up." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But it was you. It was really you."

"Same here. I tried to imagine you, what your life was like, where the bruises and cuts came from. And then, when I started to piece it together, I kept thinking I'd never actually meet you. But apparently, fate had other ideas."

"Guess we didn't have a choice, huh?" Luke teased, grinning down at her. "You've had your fair share of bruises, too, you know. It was like trying to keep up with my own clumsy twin."

"Hey! I'm not clumsy... usually. But you--my god. You have no idea how many times I've had to explain away your injuries to my friends. They practically staged an intervention."

Luke laughed and the sound made her heart skip a beat. "You can blame the Devils for most of the recent ones. If you've seen me on the ice... Sorry I haven't made this easy for you."

"I survived. So did you. I guess that means we're both pretty tough... what did you think I'd be like?"

"Honestly? I thought you'd be... well, I guess I thought you'd be someone strong. But I didn't think... I didn't think I'd feel this connection, this fast. It's like I've known you forever"

"I know exactly what you mean," she whispered. "It's like... everything just makes sense now."

Sylvie felt an undeniable pull toward him, something so deep it was impossible to resist. She knew, without a doubt, that this was where she was meant to be. As if reading her mind, Luke stepped closer, his hand reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. She shivered as his fingers lingered against her cheek.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered.

She nodded, her breath catching. "Anything."

"Do you feel it too? Like everything's perfect?"

"Yeah. I do. I've never felt this way before. I didn't think I ever would."

Luke's gaze flickered down to her lips. "I... I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you."

The moment their lips met, it was fireworks, filling her with a sense of belonging she'd never known before. It was soft at first, a delicate brush of their lips that quickly deepened as he pulled her close, cradling her cheek. Each moment was a silent promise, a confirmation of everything they couldn't put into words.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and smiling, she looked up at him. She felt weightless.

"Wow," she mumbled. "That was..."

"Amazing?" he finished for her.

"Yeah. Amazing."

"I can't believe you're real."

"But I'm here. And I'm not going anyway," she reassured."

"So," he smiled playfully, "what's next? Do we just... walk off into the sunset now?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know. But I'm not ready to say goodnight yet."

"Good. Because I want to know everything about you, Sylvie. All the stories, all the moments... everything."

~~

The city had grown even more quiet as Sylvie and Luke walked side by side, their hands intertwined. Luke's mind was racing, still reeling from the evening's events. Finding Sylvie, feeling the spark, sharing their first kiss--it felt like a dream he was afraid to wake up from.

"Wanna come back to my place?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, only if you want to. I just... I feel like we could talk for hours."

"I'd love that."

They continued toward Luke's apartment, each step filled with quiet excitement, and just as they reached the building's entrance, Luke spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall: Jack. Jack's head perked up when he noticed them, his eyes flicking between the two of them, taking in their clasped hands with a look of surprise.

"Whoa, hey, Lukey! Didn't know you were bringing home... company." Jack's tone was teasing, but his eyes were curious as he looked at Sylvie. "I don't think we've met?"

"Hey, Jack," Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "This is, uh, Sylvie. She's..."

Sylvie chuckled, "Hi, Jack."

"Well, hi, Sylvie. Nice to meet you, I guess?" He turned to his brother, a sly smile on his face. "So, are you going to fill me in, or is this a mystery?"

"It's... kind of a long story." He glanced at Sylvie, who nodded encouragingly.

Jack crossed his arms, examining them. But just as Luke was about to open his mouth and explain, Jack's gaze dropped to Sylvie's arm, where a faint yellow-ish bruise matched one on Luke's forearm--a mirror image, perfectly aligned. Jack's eyes widened, glancing back and forth between their arms, piecing it together. His mouth fell open, a look of astonishment spreading across his face.

"No way. No fucking way!" He practically shouted, pointing an accusatory finger. "Don't tell me... she's the one? Your soulmate?!"

Luke's cheeks flushed but he smiled. "Yeah, Jack. This is her."

Jack whooped, throwing his arms around Luke in a brotherly bear hug. "This is insane! Dude, this is... you found her! Your actual soulmate!" He turned to Sylvie, eyes still wide. "You're real!"

"Last time I checked, yeah," she giggled.

"Oh my god, Quinn's gonna lose his mind!" Jack practically vibrated with excitement, pulling his phone from his pocket and frantically dialing Quinn. Luke barely had time to react before he heard his oldest brother on the other end.

"Jack? It's like past midnight there. Why are you calling me?"

"Quinn!" Jack yelled, making Luke wince. "Guess who found his soulmate?!"

There was a beat of silence, and then Quinn's voice came through, more alert than before. "Wait... you're serious? Luke found her?!"

"Dead serious. She's right here. Her name's Sylvie. And she's awesome."

Quinn laughed. "No way. Luke, man, that's... that's incredible."

Luke could hear the genuine happiness in Quinn's voice and his own excitement bubbled over. "Thanks, Q. And yeah... she's real. She's... she's here."

"Can't wait to meet her. Take care of her, okay?"

"I will," Luke promised.

Jack finally hung up, eyes still wide as saucers. "Okay, I just need to say it--you seem like the coolest! I mean, it's so weird to meet you. You guys were like... made for each other."

She chuckled nervously. "Thanks, Jack. You're... not exactly what I expected."

"Glad I can surprise you," Jack replied, throwing an arm over both of them as they headed for the elevator. "But seriously, I'm so pumped for you guys. You're about to be the most iconic couple in hockey history. Imagine the headlines!"

Luke rolled his eyes, shrugging Jack off. "Alright, alright, Jack, that's enough. This isn't gonna be a media circus."

"Oh come on," he was unfazed. "This is huge! People love a good soulmate story!"

Luke grabbed Sylvie's hand, leading her down to his bedroom, where they settled side by side on the bed. They talked well into the night, sharing stories, dreams, and quiet laughter, each word solidifying their futures together. And as the city lights flickered outside, they held each other close, knowing that all the bruises, all the years, had led them here, to where they were meant to be. Together.

[nightlyrequiem]

Love Bite

Perhaps in another life, one where she was still living, you two could've been something. If she had a heart that still beat maybe you wouldn't look at her like she was a monster. 

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I would let Valeria feed from me.

Tags/Warnings: Vampire Valeria, Power Imbalance, Blood, Blood Drinking, WLW, Unrequited Pining, Slightly Sexual Themes

Two, tiny goldfish mindlessly swim around in their tank. Their orange scaled bodies turned vermillion by the low red lights in Valeria's office. The tank isn't small, but it's not large either. You feel bad for the fish. It must be maddening to only be allowed to swim within such a limited perimeter for the rest of your short, short life. You shiver and pull your blanket tighter around your shoulders. Not that it does much good. This coldness is inside of you is like a disease. Thin sheets of ice covering your delicate, mortal organs. Your heart works overtime to try and supply you with the proper amount of blood but it just can't keep up the demand.

You needed money. The only jobs available to someone of your skillset didn't pay enough. Not even the cheapest apartment was cheap enough. There was one job that paid very well. Ever since Vampirism started making it's rounds within the human population, those infected were afflicted with heightened strength, stamina, and cravings. The newly infected quickly adapted to their new lives and decided they were superior to the uninfected. The Dark Days, is what they're called. Thirty years before you were even conceived Vampires had waged war on Humans. Trapping and slaughtering them left and right. The Rebellion were a large group of humans who didn't roll over and die. They bit back, and hard enough to earn the begrudging respect of the Vampires.

Negations were hashed out and governments were formed. Parliments and parties of Humans and Afflicted (the technical term both medically and politically.) to protect the rights of both groups. Although the Vampires remain at the head of the seat, metaphorically speaking. While it is illegal for Vampires to go out and hunt and kill free standing people, they still reap the most benefits of the new barbaric system. Criminals who receive the death sentence are given to vampiric guards to satiate their hunger. The afflicted can get by on animal blood, now stored beside the milk in most grocery stores but human blood is just better. Thus, the Feeder Program was born. Humans who need more money - or just find the idea of being indentured to a stronger, crueler being erotic - can sign up to be paired with a Vampire. A living, breathing blood bag, essentially.

Only the wealthy can afford a Feeder. You suspect the Vampiric government has increased the prices on everything from rent to food to force more people into the program. The allusion of choice. You used to judge the people who participated. Why would you willingly throw yourself at the mercy of an unmerciful creature? You told yourself you'd work hard so you'd never resort to that. Unfortunately, that's not how the real-world works. You were speeding down the highway to homelessness and without a home you're as good as dead here. The government spends all its energy and money on the afflicted that there aren't even any homeless shelters. Leaving the homeless to battle with both the elements and blood thirsty creatures of the night.

The door opens, startling you awake. You hadn't even realised you were drifting off. Valeria strides in. She joins you on the couch, her harsh expression softening as she meets your gaze. Her eyes are a normal shade of brown, her ears aren't pointy, the only giveaway to her different biology are her fangs. Which aren't visible unless she's smiling or laughing. Valeria pulls you into her lap and turns you around to straddle her. Having your back to the room makes your skin crawl. She nuzzles her face down your jaw, resting it in the crook of your neck. Valeria is one of the few vampires that will employ humans. Species based discrimination also isn't allowed but the Afflicted have found a way around that. Most of Valeria's grunts are human though. It should comfort you, but the disgusted looks they throw your way when they think you can't see just makes you feel like you're less than human.

Valeria breathes in your scent. You imagine she can hear the fragile beating of your heart. Smell the blood currently running through your veins. 

"I'm hungry." She murmurs. You hate being fed from. That should be obvious but there are people out there who get off on it. There is a certain point during the feeding that does feel pleasant, but it has never turned you on. 

"You fed yesterday." You reply quietly. She's been feeding from you more and more. From the recommended monthly to unhealthy weekly feedings.

"And I want to feed again." Valeria replies. Gently grabbing the side of your face to tilt your head, baring your throat to her predatory gaze. Valeria noses along your neck, searching for the best vein to pierce.

Your face scrunches with apprehension as you wait for that painful little pinch. Valeria sniffs along your cold skin before pausing. She takes another inhale before slowly sinking her teeth into you. You hiss at the pinch and wave of warmth that passes through you. You can feel the blood leaking from the puncture holes into her mouth and the sensation makes you feel ill. Or maybe it's losing so much blood that's making you feel ill. Valeria cradles you to her body while she feeds. Rubbing her hand across your back in an attempt to comfort you. You lean against her for support. Her hand wanders lower, fingers skimming over your clothed tailbone.

The red light is giving you a headache. You close your eyes, but the lack of visual stimuli just accentuates the pain. There's an uncomfortable heat inside of you. Pulsating in waves and slickening your skin in sweat. This doesn't seem to bother Valeria though, who greedily laps up your life force. The other side of your neck is littered in bruised bites. Overlapping and scarring after not being given any time to heal. The heat dies down and the blissful tingling feeling is beginning to take hold. Your body relaxes. Just as it starts to feel good Valeria unlatches from your neck, a bead of blood runs down your neck and chest.

Valeria smooths her long fingers over the stray hairs at the back of your neck in an affectionate gesture.

"Good girl." She murmurs. Not mockingly but as genuine praise. Valeria is aware of the stress put on your body from being fed on. Not that it stops her from doing it. The momentary high wears of and you're slammed by exhaustion. Every limb weighing twelve tons. You have no choice but to lay your head on her shoulder as your eyes droop. You don't see the smile gracing Valeria's usually stern features.

The feel of your body against hers is the highlight of her day. Your breasts pressed against hers, your soft breath in her hair while she feeds. You taste warm and tender and Valeria wonders if you're warm and tender anywhere else. She can feel you trembling slightly. Can picture that little furrow in your brow. The imagery will serve to fuel some late-night fantasies in the privacy of her bedroom. You're the star in every single one. Valeria can hazard a decent guess as to what you'd sound like moaning and breathless, but the lack of confirmation leaves her frustrated. The fact that you'd never give her a chance just leaves her sad.

She continues to stroke you gently like she would a pet. Her nails gently catching on your scalp.

"I wish you did this willingly." She says quietly. The words drag you from sleep.

"What?" You ask, voice slightly slurring.

"I wish you were here willingly, in my lap, in my life." Valeria clarifies. The light bleeds into her sclera, making her look every bit of the monster she is.

"...I am." You reply, confused. You made the conscious decision to sign up for the Feeders Program. You are a legal volunteer. Valeria silently considers your words.

"No, I mean without the money." She sighs. "I want you to want to be here."

Your eyes droop again. You're so tired and cold.

"I'm tired." You mutter. Ignoring her words. They make you a little angry. It feels entitled, to want you to be here, to want you to enjoy being fed off of.

"I know." Valeria says after a few seconds. Voice hardening slightly. She's feeling the rejection. She had attempted to be real with you. She let you catch a glimpse of her dead, shriveled heart and you stabbed a stake through it. Valeria carefully adjusts you so she can lay down with you. Despite your rejection she still seeks your companionship.

Perhaps in another life, one where she was still living, you two could've been something. If she had a heart that still beat maybe you wouldn't look at her like she was a monster. Valeria gets a little burst of satisfaction when you wriggle up against her. she can tell by your breathing and the slowing of your heart that you're asleep. Valeria never realised how fragile the human body was until she turned. You're like a little bird. Hollow bones and delicate limbs. If she's not careful she'd shatter your ribs, snap your neck. She wants to clip your wings to make you stay.

She buries her face into your hair. Inhaling lungfuls of you. For a fleeting second, she thinks she'd sacrifice immortality for you. Briefly considering offering you enough money to never need to come back again - to open your cage door - but she fears if she did, you'd never return to her. Valeria is a monster. Even before she turned, she was a monster. She will never do what's best for you. Feeding from you has weakened you and made you sick, but it has brought Valeria closer to you. She knows she should, but Valeria is selfish. If she has to slowly kill you to keep you then so be it. She presses a loving kiss to your cool temple and closes her eyes. Finding tranquility in the slow beating of your heart.

[robin-evry]

Maybe some demigod yuu who is child of Poseidon as well?

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐃 ( 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐍 ) 🐚🌊

A demigod is a part-human and part-divine offspring of a deity and a human, or a human or non-human creature that is accorded divine status after death, or someone who has attained the "divine spark".

Demi god Yuu exudes an aura of serenity, much like the ocean on a calm day. However, there's an undeniable sense of authority about them, and when they speak, people instinctively listen. They rarely raise their voice but don’t need to; their calm composure commands attention.

They are calm and observant as well laid back and possess a strong ideal of Justice. They are described to be elegant but yet can be intimidating when faced with their wrath. Known for their adaptability, during tough situations they will always find a way out or a way to solve it.

They possessed a connection towards the ocean, they often spend their free time near water. Whether it's a lake, river, or even a fountain on the school grounds, water seems to calm them. They sometimes unconsciously manipulate water around them, causing ripples or small waves.

In their free time, you can find them fascinated by aquatic creatures, before going to NRC, they originally planned on being a marine biologist. You can find them in the library reading an encyclopedia about aquatic creatures.

Has the ability to command and control every sea creature, as well as hearing and understanding them. During their first meeting with azul and the twins, they immediately know they are fish men. Many fish men students feel having some connection towards demigod-yuu, every time demigod!yuu ask them to do something, they immediately do it as it was a command or part of their instinct

Inside the mostro lounge, every time they visit the cafe, the fish inside the cafe seems to follow them every foot step, and you can find Demi-God!yuu seem to be talking to them as well every time they release a bubble of air like having a full blown conversation.

Demi-God Yuu has an inherent need for freedom, just like the sea. They despise feeling confined or restricted, both physically and emotionally. Rules and boundaries frustrate them, and they prefer to live life at their own pace. This can sometimes put them at odds with more rigid personalities, like Riddle’s or Vil’s, but they’re skilled at finding ways to bend rules without outright breaking them.

Demi-God Yuu has a quiet rivalry with Riddle due to their vastly different temperaments and leadership styles. Riddle’s strict adherence to rules contrasts with demigod-yuu belief in flowing with the current and adapting to situations. While they respect each other’s power, Riddle finds them calm, almost detached demeanor infuriating at times. In turn, they believe Riddle could benefit from relaxing and letting go of control more often.

Demi-God Yuu shares a close bond with Grim, often encouraging him to embrace his magical potential. They create small water games or challenges for Grim, helping him learn how to control his abilities while having fun together as well if he ever there to catch something on fire they will be there to extinguish it.

Being the child of Poseidon, they have limitless potential to manipulate water or liquefied substances ( this includes ice, gas or any substance that involves water )

They can summon water from thin air, even in environments where no natural water sources are present. The summoned water is often drawn from moisture in the atmosphere or created from their divine energy. They use this ability for offensive and defensive purposes, creating water whips, barriers, or projectiles as well to manipulate with precision that they can shape it into any forms, such as weapons (tridents, swords, spears), shields, or even delicate artistic designs. They use this ability to create functional tools during battle, like water-based chains to bind opponents, a temporary water shield to block attacks or create an army of water knights to fight off. As well to breathe in water having the ability to stay on water for long periods of time.

With the power of Poseidon flowing through them, Yuu can summon aquatic creatures—both mythical and real—from the ocean to assist them. This includes sea serpents, krakens, and large schools of fish or dolphins.

Due to their deep connection towards water, their emotions are tied to the weather, whenever they feel displeased or any negative emotion scaling on which one, rain will appear the stronger the negative emotions are the stronger the rain.

They can change their form using water, by using large bodies of water they can be the same size of a titan or as well use this ability to dodge attacks by making their body water making it impossible to damage.

Demi-God Yuu also has a natural ability to heal or enhance others using water. Whether it’s minor cuts or something fatal, they can use water to heal people spiritually as well physically.

They wear a trident-shaped accessory, symbolizing their connection to their godly parent in their uniform, that can be turned into a Trident in any dire situation where they need a weapon.

Demi-God Yuu has a small, magically summoned sea turtle named “Aqua,” who follows them around in the dorm. Aqua often rests on Yuu’s shoulder and is known for its playful personality. The turtle can also transform into a larger size when Yuu needs help in the water or to work as a form of transportation.

Demi-God Yuu has a unique fashion sense inspired by ocean themes as well sea creatures. They often wear flowing fabrics that mimic waves or colors resembling the ocean at different times of the day—deep blues, shimmering silvers, and vibrant corals. They sometimes incorporate shells, pearls, or other oceanic accessories into their outfits.

They will always be seen visiting Octavinelle dorm to visit mostro lounge to talk with the animals, sitting at a booth near the aquarium with their drink order is always to find a way to comfort them, they are also considered to be a regular at the cafe.

They collects unique seashells from different locations and has a special shelf in their dorm dedicated to displaying them. Each shell has a story or memory associated with it using magic each seashell will be entrapped with a special memory of them like a video on recording, this is also a way demigod!yuu give gifts. Giving them a special sea shell with a preserve memory they have with the person they're giving it.

Talented at singing, their singing is similar to a siren, alluring as well as relaxing this talent Can be used to hypnotize as well to let their enemies guard down.

Demi-God Yuu has transformed Ramshackle into a mini-ocean oasis, featuring decorations like seashells, coral, and water-themed artwork. They hang shimmering blue curtains that mimic ocean waves and use soft, flowing fabrics to give the room a beachy vibe.

They also have built a pool behind the dorm, where they will host pool parties during weekends as a way for their friends to relax after a long week of school. Originally the first years were the only ones that would attend but soon everyone started to attend to relax.

Absolutely hates scarabia dorms for being in the desert, no offense to kalim and Jamil it's just that the dessert is one place they rather avoid due to the lack of water inside the environment.

Inside their room holds a music box singing the songs of every fish or aquatic creature in the ocean that was given to them by their father whenever they miss being in the ocean, during times when life become too hard for them to deal with, they will play the music box to remind them of their father.

Part of the equestrian club if you think of it, aquatic creatures aren't the only thing they are connected to surprisingly, horses. They have a deep connection to their horse name kelpie. One of the best of them all.

Octavinelle trio originally is planning on trapping them but they are ALWAYS two steps ahead knowing their plan before hand, due to them being a fisherman, demigod!yuu understand everything they said and thought.

As well a master at the arts, Demi-God Yuu is an incredible artist as well a talent to sculpting, able to build large palace sandcastles in a few minutes. If anyone ever asks how they do it, they will get a simple answer no.

One of their favorite hobbies is to collect corals and seashells, their room is decorated with sea shells around the wall as well as a jelly fish lamp around the dorm.

[princess-nobody]

Avatar Rant: Snowy Region Na'vi

Am I the only one who doesn't like the fanon snow navi designs? Specifically this (I used shitty AI images I found off of pinterest to illustrate the point and to avoid using actual artwork from people 🩷):

(Before I continue my God these are creepy 😭 AI genuinely cannot create Na'vi without them looking uncanny, disturbing and far too human)

I can understand why people choose the more predictable design philosophy – blonde hair, blue eyes, pale/white skin, pretty two pieces – because that's relatively how this sort of lifestyle has been portrayed to us in the media. Every movie or show set in a snowy region always features mostly eastern European characters, so naturally people decide that their snow na'vi must resemble eastern European people to a degree, and this bothers me.

Not because they look like white people (though that is like 25% why ngl) but because it just isn't realistic? Na'vi may be inspired by humans but they are still a different species living on a harsh and deadly planet that humans can't survive in, na'vi winter and snow would be excruciatingly difficult for them, and they would need to adapt to it.

I just don't see how they would be so thin and petite and pale, people say to blend in, but why? Only a handful of animals in arctic regions are actually white to blend in (polar bears, arctic foxes etc.) so wouldn't it make more sense to base them off of arctic animals from the ice age? Back then, animals were bigger, bulkier, with thicker skin and hair all over to protect themselves from the crippling cold – with that in mind, wouldn't snow na'vi be bigger than average na'vi, and bulkier too? Unlike regular na'vi, it would make sense that the snow ones actually have body hair all over, maybe even fur if you want to take it that far.

And if you're basing them off of INDIGENOUS people, then appearance, features and fashion wise, wouldn't it make more sense to base them off of the actual Inuit people of the arctic instead of Elsa from frozen 😭

Because realistically why would they wear flowey dresses and two pieces in weather that is probably 80% worse than any winter humanity has ever faced... especially since na'vi are all inspired by different non-white/european indigenous communities, and yes... non-white/European indigenous people do in fact live in cold, snowy, arctic regions...

To add a little bit of pseudo-psychology to it, it may be done in an attempt from white avatar fans for the most part to feel closer to the na'vi by adding a white adjacent sub-species, as the closer to europeans the na'vi look, the more they see themselves within the na'vi. However, that is purely speculation lol.

Also, I do NOT think you are racist or anti-indigenous or anything of the sort if your headcanon for snow na'vi looks anything like the examples! You're allowed to draw and design what you want, and just because tumblr user princess-nobody doesn't like it, doesn't mean it's bad.

TLDR: Fanon snow na'vi don't make sense and confuse me lol. Imo snow na'vi would be big and bulky behemoths that are covered in thick body hair and wear large, figure covering warm clothing, not skinny little russian girls in ballet outfits LMAOOOO.

[sopiao]

could i request a human heat pack reader with our favorite 141 boys?

i’m very unusually warm. like every time i travel to russia to see family my mom and brother always use me as human heat pack.

have a great day!!

i just had this idea >:0

(great minds think alike >:)).

it would be so cute, they’d be so unconsciously touchy just to try to warm their hands during a mission in a cold area. where? Siberia. i don’t know that was just at the top of my head.

(Callsign: ‘Shark’ :3)

When they first land their all already swaddled like babies in layers of clothes. A long sleeve, whatever t-shirt, thin jacket with a thicker one over it, extra layers of socks. Whatever could spare them of the harsh winter of the country.

Their all huddled in a position to try and conserve warmth. Except for Price who insist that “It’s not that cold” and to “Get over it already”. But they can all see his subtle shake in his crossed arms pose.

“You got a heat pack or something?” Gaz asked, cupping his hands over his mouth, hoping to get some warmth from his breath. Seeing Shark’s still and relaxed figure like this weather was nothing. Gaz was hoping that they’d had an extra one and could toss one to him.

“No?” They shook their head and began to look around. Kicking snow to kill time when they hear their captain speak to a local about directions.

“Jesus, fuck. How are you not freezing you’re arse off?” Soap asks, pulling the collar of his jacket higher to cover more of his neck. Shark just shrugs. They really don’t know how. It just didn’t bother them as much. It was sorta cool since it fit their name, sharks can change their body temp to a certain range to adapt to their surroundings.

Gaz wasn’t even thinking, just desperate for warmth. Taking his chances for even a bit of comfort, he stood closer to your side, leaning on you with his cheek to your temple. Once he felt the small relief from the sudden cold, he leaned in more, covering more body surface. Relaxing, the more he did the more toasty he started to feel.

“Ahh-” Gaz sighed silently, Shark patted his back to further comfort him. Soap and Ghost looked at the two, who looked like a couple trying to keep themselves warm as an excuse to cuddle in public, then back at each other, silently questioning what to do or say, or if they should.

Soap shrugged and did the same to your other side, sighing in relief when the harsh and tight coldness of the snow felt like ice cream melting in the sun when he felt Shark’s body heat. Shark didn’t move but just shifted their eyes to see him. Couldn’t do anything but accept their fate.

Ghost is naturally a cranky and grumpy guy already and chilly, an understatement, atmosphere didn’t simmer him down a bit. He didn’t even try to fight it or reason with his thoughts and subsided. Wrapping his arms around their middle and resting his chin on the top of their head. Sighing when he felt his comrade’s warm back defrost him (hehe). Sighing for them was like the unconscious ‘ding’ to the microwave when your food finishes heating up.

Shark can’t really move even if they wanted to. Plus who wouldn’t wanna be sandwiched between three beefy guys?

“A’ight team. It shouldn’t be too far from here—” Price cut himself off, seeing his soldiers surround one like an overstuffed burrito. He crossed his arms, not registering that they were using Shark for warmth and just randomly decided to simultaneously bear hug them at the same time. Even Simon was joining in.

“Wha— Why?— What’s happening?” Price chuckled slightly, more out of confusion than amusement, crossing his arms once again with the subtle shake from the natural instinct of his body to find energy for heat.

“Warm” Only thing that Soap says, short but filling explanation. Causing Price to chuckle even more. Shark brings their hands forward, offering a fraction of their warmth to their captain, since it’s really the only thing that’s not occupied. Price holds their hands, at first to humor them, once he felt how unusually warm their hands are at this weather. He unconsciously lifted their hands up to his face, toasty palms pressed up against his cheeks.

—

“Fuckin’ hell” Price whispered under his breath before thanking the citizen for her time and cooperation, grumbling about the lead being a dead end. Price calls out for his teammates, signaling to continue on.

“Back to bloody square one” Soap grumbled, cranky from all the running around they had to do to catch one guy.

Both Price and Gaz immediately reached for your hand. At this point they didn’t even care, or notice what they were doing. It was just a natural instinct to swarm towards anything slightly warmer. Shark didn’t mind though, swinging their hands as they walked.

Two girls walking past them. Having to do a double take when they see the three. Before looking at each other wordless message of ‘How lucky!’.

—

During the cramped car ride, both Soap and Ghost had their heads resting on Shark. Soap resting his head on their shoulder, having to slump down slightly, while Ghost rested his temple on the top of their head. Both soldiers clinging onto and hugging on their arm for more cozy protection.

—

As Shark, Gaz, and Price watched and waited Soap and Ghost from across the building. They finally got a lead on the perp but if they all went in at once it would seem suspicious. They all watched intently, Gaz starting to get more bored.

Price unconsciously wrapping his arm around Shark, pressing them close to keep himself warm, resting his head on theirs as he got bored too. Shark figured out a while ago not to be too bothered with how clingy their being, figuring out that their just a human heater for them.

[eskymoos]

Keegan P Russ As a Romantic Partner

Headcannons by Eskimos

I.  A Methodical Maestro with a Playful Twist

It's been confirmed that his personality type is ISTP, which means that his brain is his strongest weapon. He is methodical and very tactful with his language and would always offer a hand to you. Feeling lost? He's always there with a good solution. Feeling sad? He's the guy to ask for advice.

Even if he lacks experience in some fields he's very quick to learn and perfect them so I suppose he'd also be a bit competitive. Keegan doesn't miss an opportunity to beat you to everything you like. All while playing dumb in order to cherish the amazement on your end.

***

''How'd you do that?! Wow!''

''Just luck, I guess,'' he'd say with an indifferent shrug while a childish grin creeps onto his face.

***

II. The Jester of your Heart

Keegan is very reserved but he's a skilled people reader. He would quickly get used to your moods and soon you wouldn't even have to tell him when you're feeling sad. He just steals a glimpse and he already knows what to do.

However, sometimes the cocky side of him comes out in the most inconvenient time and things tend to get more spicy. Whenever you give him the silent treatment for no reason, he begins threading on thin ice with you.

***

''Whatcha want for dinner, sweet pea?''

*Silence.*

''What's wrong, my beautiful?'' He asks, coming closer to you. When you turn the other way to further provoke him, he guides his hands to your hips and presses the weight of his chest to your back.

''Funny little thing. Have you given a vow of silence? I like when we play this game, y'know.''

His hands drop lower and lower and his mouth comes to caress the back of your neck. His hot breath makes your hairs stand.

''Your heart's beating fast.''

III. Under the Hard Scales of His Heart

Independence is Keegan's last name. He never learned how to embrace the art of teamwork, though his job required it. At times he was too disconnected to properly do the job.

In a relatioship he might have some trouble turning to you for assistance. Whenever something is on his mind, he blocks out the world and faces it on his own. He's likely to turn down tips from other people.

Not from you though.

The first time you lent your hand for help, he was quite surprised and even a bit suspicious. It unlocked a part of him he never knew he had. He felt cared for and seen.

In time Keegan learned to trust your word and be less stubborn when you tried to aid him.

IV. Tsunami of Love

That's what he is. A natural disaster. A tornado of energy and a tsunami. Behind closed doors he is much less calm. His love language is mostly acts of service and physical touch but sometimes the two mix together into something even more grand.

If you happen to be struggling under a pile of undone work, he would find the perfect moment to distract you. Before you can even get a word out, he has already picked you up from the chair and carrying you to your room bridal style.

***

''What are you doing, Keegan?!''

He continues to march through the house and whistle proudly. Keegan tosses you onto the bed like you don't weight anything at all.

''Stay here.'' He commands, exiting and closing the door behind him.

In a few minutes time he comes back with your favorite chocolates and a beer for himself.

''I will be your only occupation today.''

***

V. The Kids' Favorite

The way I see it, Keegan would have very specific sense of humor. His jokes can be very sharp and borderline offensive but the moment a kid comes in sight he turns into a soft cinnamon roll.

He has this energy that kids absolutely adore because he's a great listener and adapts to the circumstances easily. There's something about the purity of the young generation that makes him feel protective.

***

One time you saw him play with a small group of children after a difficult operation. He was kneeling down in front of a little girl and his eyes glimmered as she tried to pronounce his name. The child obviously had rhotacism (cannot pronounce the letter r) and he found it quite adorable.

''Keegan Russ. Russ. Can you say it?'' Keegan bit his lip, holding back a chuckle.

''Keegan Hhhus.'' The girl tried to repeat it but failed terribly. Keegan burst out laughing.

''Rrrrrrrr,'' he growled playfully and she giggled at it.

''Grhhhrr!''

''Oh, you're growling at me now? Come here you.'' Keegan extended his arms to trap her in a harmless embrace.

There was something about his love for children that won your heart every time.

***