#and I appreciate the band’s heavy use of the soul patch

[are-we-really-doing-this]

What does daddy tagz think abt finger eleven?

Paralyzer is an absolute banger, classic, but that whole album is slept on, tbh. Mf can hit them notes like an angel, and I do enjoyed some of their acoustic tracks. Shocker, I know. But Daddy Tagz likes his slow jams on occasion. Them vs. You vs. Me has a very nostalgic sound for me, you see. Even though I may not have heard this particular album when I was young, the songs remind me of like every soundtrack from the slow parts of the action movies or the club scenes from the suspense dramas that my dad would watch all the time when I was a kid. Even the seemingly random music video clips that would play on Hollywood news programs that my brain picked up from the tube tvs in the waiting areas I sat in while my mom was getting her hair cut or nails done seem to be in there somewhere. It evokes a certain je ne sais quoi that’s special to me.

Thank you anon, I didn’t know I needed that.

[pocketseizure]

The Flower Thief

A young boy comes to Hyrule and meets a princess with a terrible destiny.

Or, Ganondorf visits Hyrule for the first time as a child and falls in love with the green and beautiful land, even as he is warned away by the woman who will become Zelda’s mother. 

This story was written for Ties of Time, an Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask fanzine, which you can find on Twitter (here). The story is also (on AO3).

. . . . . . . . . .

Ganondorf had never been beyond the mountains separating the desert from the plains. The road from the fortress to the waystation was, if not well-traveled, safe enough for a child in the company of an escort. He’d crossed the bridge leading to the canyon pass a few times, always pausing to peer down through the railings at the great river rushing along the gully below, but this was the first time he was allowed to accompany a caravan through the Gerudo Valley pass and into Hyrule.

He thought he knew what to expect from Hyrule. He’d heard all manner of stories from travelers, and he was given Hylian books to study as he learned the language. Yet as the red earth and dry gravel gave way to healthy swards of grass, he could not open his eyes wide enough to take it all in. There was so much green, so much luxury. 

The climate changed as the caravan traveled east. The mornings were cool but not cold, and the days were warm but not hot. The sun was veiled by clouds that drifted like floating islands across the blue sea of the sky, dappling the light into gentle shadows.

Ganondorf was not prepared for the rain. Everyone took notice when the afternoon became dark and the air grew heavy, but no one seemed concerned. He was familiar with the storms that pummeled the open desert, fierce and veined with jagged lightning, and he was afraid of what the blanket of clouds might portend. He was even more afraid of the disdain of the adults, however, so he held his tongue. If he cried when the first drops fell on his skin, each tiny splash as soft as the finest silk, his tears went unremarked.

Vast fields spread before him as they rode east. Brightly colored wildflowers pushed their way through the tall grass on leafy stems, and the wind was fragrant with the sweet smell of growing things. The caravan turned north at the first ranch they encountered, skirting along the low fence marking its perimeter. Ganondorf was amazed to find that the crooked and neglected fenceposts were made of wood. He realized that, to the local farmers, timber must be far more common than stone. As their party joined the main road, the trees grew larger and the flowers became even more colorful. The early summer greenery seemed almost blasphemous in its profusion. Stalks of young wheat swayed in the breeze, and cows dotted the rolling plains.

At last, upon ascending the crest of a low hill, Ganondorf saw Hyrule Castle, its spires stretching bravely into the sky. This architectural feat would have been impossible in the desert, where the gale winds would quickly strip the tiles from the towers if lightning didn’t strike them first. The town spilling down from the castle walls was just as bold. Roads and houses spread along the wide valley of a river with no regard for how disaster might strike and send the water roiling from its banks at any given change of the weather. Hyrule was, he thought, a miracle.

Once the road approaching the castle town began to grow crowded, one of Ganondorf’s aunts pulled him aside as they watered their horses. “You must dress as we do,” she said. “The people of this kingdom are guided by superstition, and they will not look kindly on someone that they cannot fit into the stories they tell themselves. You will be in danger if anyone learns that you are different from us, and we may not always be able to protect you,” she warned him as she twisted his hair into a high ponytail and secured it with a jeweled band.

Taking care not to be noticed, Ganondorf exchanged his robes for loose pants and a sleeveless tunic. He had learned to appreciate being seen as special, but there had always been a part of him that wanted to dress like the girls his age. The thought occurred to him that perhaps it was only in Hyrule that he could be normal. Ganondorf resolved to use this situation to his advantage. He would break off from the group as soon as it was expedient to do so.

The women shed their travel cloaks in Castle Town as they merged into the throng of people converging in the central market plaza. Zora and Gorons jostled for place among the Hylians in front of the stalls, and Ganondorf spotted the leafy foliage of a few Deku Scrubs and even the broad shoulders of a Moblin. Almost no one paid any mind to the group of Gerudo that gradually split apart as they went their separate ways. A few people paused to cast glances in their direction, especially men, and Ganondorf’s companions seemed to enjoy the attention.

Ganondorf kept his own cloak drawn around his narrow shoulders. The bearded faces of Hylian men were strange to his eyes. He was disturbed by their large and clumsy hands, whose thick fingers sprouted coarse hair. Ganondorf didn’t want to attract their notice, and he was much more interested in seeing than being seen. He watched a team of laborers eating at the base of a tree emerging from the paving stones of the plaza, throwing their breadcrusts into a bed of flowers overgrown with weeds. In an alley leading away from the market, a woman emerged from her townhouse to throw water onto the cobblestones before whisking the puddle into a drain with a broom. And then, wonder of wonders, a fountain burbled its lazy jet of water toward the sky with no other purpose than to provide a pleasant breeze for the cat napping on its stone rim.

All of this was fascinating, yet Ganondorf was not satisfied. He wanted to see something even more rare and beautiful. If the town below the castle was filled with marvels, he could scarcely imagine what treasures might be contained within the castle itself.

It was not difficult to sneak past the guards posted along the outer wall. They were slow and he was small. Just to be safe, Ganondorf used his modest measure of magic to quiet his footsteps while shifting the color of his cloak to reflect his surroundings. He had a fair amount of practice evading the watchful eyes of his mothers and aunts, and he liked to think he was skilled at avoiding detection. Or perhaps it was simply the case that the soldiers standing at the castle gates did not expect anyone to enter. Perhaps they assumed that no one would dare.

The courtyard on the other side of the outer wall was surprisingly pedestrian. Wooden crates were piled near the servant entrances, and a small moat ran between uneven patches of grass that had been trampled by men and horses alike. Ganondorf challenged himself to make his way beyond the castle’s inner wall, which was somewhat trickier but not beyond his abilities. There wasn’t much to be seen here either, nothing more than a few narrow walkways lined with mossy stones sunken into the spongy earth between overgrown shrubs.

Ganondorf was disappointed. The curving rows of proud cypress trees surrounding the Gerudo fortress and the tiled mosaics glittering under its shaded awnings were much more impressive. Ganondorf paused at a muddy puddle lingering in the shadow of the castle’s mold-spotted wall. He debated whether to continue on or turn back, wondering if perhaps Hyrule’s beauty lay more in its wilderness than its towns. He decided that he had seen what he’d come to see. There was no need to remain here.

As he turned, Ganondorf caught a breeze that carried a sweet fragrance unlike anything he’d ever encountered. Intrigued, he followed the scent along the inner wall of the castle until he found himself at the gate of a secluded courtyard garden. 

Tall bushes with glossy leaves separated the garden from the bare stone of the castle walls. Each of the bushes bore a profusion of white flowers as large as his palm. The scent was stronger here – richer than jasmine and as fresh as the sky after the rain.

Before he was aware of what he intended to do, Ganondorf found himself slipping his knife from the sheath at his belt to cut the thick woody stem of one of the flowers, whose petals spread elegantly from the golden shimmer of the nectar at its center. He had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he wanted to hold it. He sliced through its stem and watched as tiny beads of sap welled from the incision. As he withdrew his hand, clutching the flower alongside his knife, Ganondorf heard the soft murmur of a woman’s voice, quiet but resonant.

“He’s a good man, I think,” the voice said as it grew louder. “My honored mother wouldn’t have chosen him if he weren’t, Hylia rest her soul. He’s kind, and he has a strong will. And that’s the problem; that’s precisely the problem. He will make a good king. But then what need will there be for a queen?”

Ganondorf watched as a young woman stepped into the garden. The deep chestnut of her hair was accented by her dress, which was dyed with an indigo as deep as the sky at twilight. A white-haired woman of the same age trailed along behind her, as silent as a shadow. 

“Tensions are mounting at our borders,” the woman continued, “and Hyrule does not need a king. Hyrule needs peace. I will do what I can, yet I worry about the signs in the stars…”

Ganondorf knew he should flee, but the princess was so beautiful in her garden that he couldn’t help but stare. It was like a scene from a fairy tale. He was transfixed.

A moment later the spell was broken, but it was a moment too long. Ganondorf pulled his foot back to retreat, but the princess’s Sheikah attendant was on him like a cat at the slightest hint of movement.

“What have we here?” she murmured, her voice as soft as velvet. “Such a pretty girl, with such a sharp blade.” The Sheikah bent his hand so that the bones of his fingers twisted. Ganondorf dropped his knife but managed to hold on to the flower.

“A girl after my own heart,” the princess remarked with laughter in her voice. “Bring her closer, Impa, if you will.”

The Sheikah released Ganondorf, but not before giving his hand another painful squeeze. The warning in her touch was clear. Ganondorf understood that he was trapped, utterly and completely. He waited for panic to rise in his throat, but it never materialized. He realized that he might be forced to remain here, with soft grass under his feet and the delicate scent of white flowers lingering in the air. Perhaps such a fate would not be so terrible.

“On a tour of the castle, were you?” the princess prompted.

“Who sent you?” the Sheikah hissed with narrowed eyes. “Tell us and you might survive.”

The princess raised her hand, and the Sheikah fell back.

“How do you find my castle?” the princess asked as she gestured to the flower in Ganondorf’s hand. “Do the gardenias please you?”

Ganondorf knew that neither force nor speed could extricate him from this situation. Words were the only thing that had any chance of saving him, but his tongue was like lead in his mouth. He could only gaze at the princess, who seemed to glow in the pale sunlight. His fingers tightened on the flower.

The princess saw this and smiled. “It seems a shame for us to keep all of these gardenias to ourselves,” she remarked, switching to fluent Gerudo. “We can stand to part with one. I hope you will consider it a gift, but take care not to touch it. Its petals will blacken at the slightest contact with your skin. The flowers cannot survive after they’re removed from the plant.”

She began to reach out, perhaps intending to draw Ganondorf’s hood away from his face, but she allowed her hand to drop to her side. “We will release you,” she told him, “but you must not be caught on your way outside the castle. Nothing will protect you should one of the soldiers find you within these walls.”

The princess smiled again, but her eyes were like ice. “There is nothing here to be stolen that cannot be freely given,” she said, “but remember always, child – Hyrule does not take kindly to thieves.”

Ganondorf did not need to be told twice. He turned and ran, bending to snatch his fallen knife from the grass as he fled from the princess and her garden.

He was careful not to touch the gardenia as he made his scurrying and surreptitious way back outside the castle, but the flower’s petals were already tinged an unhealthy shade of gray by the time he was able to stop to catch his breath. They had begun to curl at the edges, and their sweet smell had grown sour.

Now there was no reason not to touch the flower. Ganondorf stroked its smooth white petals and touched his nose to the golden center of its blossom as he crouched against a dirty wall in a back alley of the market. Even as its petals spoiled before his eyes, the gardenia was divine in its beauty.

Ganondorf used his knife to cut away the rest of the wooden stem and tucked the flower into an inner pocket of his tunic. He wanted the fading flower and the memory of the castle garden to be close to his skin. The furious beating of this heart had slowed now that the danger of being caught had passed, but Ganondorf was still haunted by the cold eyes of the princess.

He would have to be more careful next time.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni 

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention 

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

 An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!” 

 Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer. 

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust. 

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned. 

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

 He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him? 

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.” 

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil. 

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.” 

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.” 

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?” 

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe. 

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

 He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot. 

“Not a chance, now go!” 

Cold. 

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant. 

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation. 

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?” 

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.” 

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

 She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?” 

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That’s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.” 

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?” 

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.” 

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile. 

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.   

 Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.  

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat. 

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would. 

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?” 

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.” 

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit. 

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.  

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart. 

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion. 

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.” 

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess. 

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him. 

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest. 

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”  

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once. 

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

[tuffduff]

I’m Gonna Marry You (Duff McKagan x Reader)

Pairing: fluffy Duff x Reader

Words: 1175

Request: @hir-cines​ “Ok bby here’s a request: really fluffy Duff imagine were he’s come home after a bad day at the studio and just needs some TLC from the reader. I’m talking compliments, forehead kisses, back rubs and some good ol’ fluffy convos while wrapped in a mound of blankets. Hope that’s good and thank you 😊”

A/N: this is short and sweet, ugh I love cuddly domesticated vulnerable Duff! 🥺 I hope y’all like it, thanks for requesting angel 💕

Just a few more steps. Just a few more step. That’s what Duff kept telling himself as he struggled the last little bit towards the shared apartment he had with you. It was the thought of you and you alone that made him practically run home after a long day of nothing but conflict in the studio. He and his band got along great, but everyone had their off days. Lately, those days were springing up more often; they were all stressed. The pressure to deliver was intense, the fear of failure was almost paralyzing—but it didn’t matter. Not right now.

You were waiting on him.

Keys, keys, fuck, where had he put his keys?

Not even possessing an ounce of patience to search for them, he took the steps that led to your apartment two at a time and merely knocked on the door, waiting to be let in, waiting to be reunited.

When you opened the door, bewildered, he only had a second to take you in, but it was enough; he’d rather feel you in his arms. Goddammit though if you didn’t look fucking adorable in his shirts.

“What happened to your key—oh!” You squeaked a little from the tightness of his embrace. He wasn’t fully aware of just how much stress he was under until he was in your presence again, the one person he knew he could count on to take care of his soul. “Hi, babe. I missed your face.” Your soothing voice made him smile for the first time in hours.

“I had a bad night.” He murmured immediately. The two of you never held anything in—rarely ever would either of you have to ask the phrase “what’s wrong?”

But if open communication was your relationship’s best trait, unconditional love was the second. Or maybe that was just your gift. Duff had never felt so genuinely appreciated in his entire life just for existing until he met you. He still remembered the first night he slept over and awoke the next morning with you being the first thing that welcomed him back to the waking world.

“I’m so glad you’re alive at the same time as me,” you had told him. And he remembered how taken aback he had felt in the moment and found himself wondering to this day how you made something so heavy sound so casual and true. He also remembered thinking to himself, I could get used to this.

The moment he admitted his downtrodden spirit, he felt the roles reverse. Your arms were suddenly wrapped around his frame, your eyebrows pulled together in concern. Lacing your hand through his, you pulled him through the threshold of your apartment completely.

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you just want to forget it?” Duff thought about it for a second, admiring absently how you always knew how to approach any emotional situation.

“We’re just not gelling in the studio lately—I mean if we really want to release a double album, that’s a lot of songs that need to be recorded. I don’t know if it’ll even be done by the time we’re supposed to tour.” As he rambled, you had guided him to the couch and pulled him down beside you. He could never understand just how on earth your hands were always so soft as you began to massage his hands in yours. You were always telling him to take better care of his hands since he so often neglected them from his tedious bass playing. “And Steven is just getting worse every day...I don’t know what we’re going to do about him anymore.” You nodded along silently, never interrupting. “The only thing that got me through it all was knowing I got to come home to you.” You just smiled. It was nights like this when he was reminded how lucky he really was; you had a smile that could start wars between men, the kind of eyes that made knees weak. He felt his heart grow full when you leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to his forehead, a piece of his soul being patched up again, and his patience returning to him.

Suddenly, your grip on his hands tightened and you inhaled excitedly.

“I know exactly what we should do!” The glint in your eyes was already making him smile. He watched as you sprang up and disappeared, only to return with enough blankets that only your face was visible. “Honestly, if you had taken any longer at the studio, I would have already done this by myself. I’ve been thinking about it all night.” You explained, beckoning him to the floor of your living area and draping the large blanket over his shoulders. “Now, why don’t we watch some dumb horror movie.”

“You didn’t think it was so dumb when you couldn’t sleep for two nights.” He teased you, pulling you into the space between his legs and flush against his chest so he could wrap his arms around you properly.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got you to protect me, don’t I?”

The movie didn’t really matter so much after-all, it was practically abandoned the moment the two of you decided popcorn was more of a priority. Now, you were a mess of limbs splayed and connected together under mounds of blankets, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn by your heads and faint screams from the movie being ignored as the two of you faced each other on the ground.

“Sometimes it just feels like I can’t keep up,” he admitted softly. “Everything’s always going so fast. I didn’t even play bass very well when I first got into Guns, and now...” he couldn’t even wrap his head around the now, everything was always viciously demanding of his time.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, grounding him again. “And now you guys are one of the biggest bands in the world, not only because of how talented you all are, but how hard you guys work. Especially you, babe.” He hesitated, shrugging off your words. “No, bullshit, Duff. I can see how much you put into this. I’ve seen how much you sacrifice for this, for the music, for the band, for your fans, for me—you do so much because you wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s just you. And that’s why I love you.”

If he weren’t so set on the tradition and sacredness and the fact that his mom would be disappointed, he would have surely asked you to marry him right there, in that instant.

“Well...” he began, searching for the right words to properly express himself. “I’m gonna marry you someday.” He blurted out, making you laugh. “No, I mean it. I fucking love you, Y/N. I wouldn’t be becoming the man I am without you here.”

“I’m gonna hold you to those words.” You joked, leaning forward to kiss him. The movie was definitely forgotten now, and his bad day seemed like a very distant memory.

[grannygerd]

I’m Lynn from PVRIS! AMA

I’m Lynn from PVRIS. We just put out our new album Use Me which you can listen to HERE. This Saturday, we’re going to be playing our first album White Noise front to back in its entirety for the first time ever. You can get tickets for the live stream HERE.

Proof: https://imgur.com/9K4IgJf

DieDunkleFritte: Hey Lynn, would you rather have really small hands or really small feet? Best regards from germany :D pvrisofficial: Feet!!! Need normal sized hands to play instruments! haha

Nikkiestables: Lynn!!! I was in the US for my exchange and was going to FINALLY see you in person but I couldn’t:( do you think in the future you would tour Asia? Which parts would you like to explore? (Please say Hong Kong) pvrisofficial: We'd love to tour Asia more! We've loved the places we've been in Japan, Singapore, & South Korea so far! Would love to add Hong Kong!

ShadeOfNothing: Hey Lynn! I’ve been a PVRIS fan Since White Noise and I’ve loved seeing the band’s sound evolve through the years. I know you’re a huge believer in astrology, past lives, and the paranormal, so I was wondering if there were any crazy experiences you had witnessed or drew inspiration from while writing/producing Use Me. Thanks so much! pvrisofficial: yessssssss I am a nut. I didnt make Use Me in a haunted church this time but i DO think I stayed at a haunted airbnb. Food kept disappearing and then one night a giant ghostly handprint was left on my guitar case and my hand was way too small to have created it.

hinterscape: Hi Lynn! I've been following you guys since ~2014, you're awesome and I look up to you. Do you see yourself making music forever or how long do you see it if not? pvrisofficial: FOR-E-VER! It might take different forms and go through different stages but i think i will always be creating music!

imaliveunfortunately: Hi Lynn! First of all I love you and the style of music you've put out recently. I saw you at Reading last year, and in Manchester in 2017 so I'm really happy to seeing PVRIS get the exposure it deserves :) So it's gotta be asked, I understand there's issues with the label, but what are the chances of Mvdonna and Blood On My Hands being released? Whether it be as singles, on a new EP, the next album, etc? They're just damn good tracks pvrisofficial: I want them to come out SO BAD too haha. I want to make sure the production is perfect so its now a matter of finding the right collaborator for them.

CookThePasta: Do you believe in life after love? pvrisofficial: yes

OldManMalekith: Hi Lynn! How did working with JT on Use Me differ from your previous experiences with producers? Everyone that I've seen or heard work with him puts it as a really positive experience, and he helps make great stuff! pvrisofficial: He is the BEST. He was very similar to Blake in the sense that he was incredibly nurturing and encouraging, dedicated to making sure it was 100% everything I wanted and always stood up for me if the label ever tried to change it. His production style is definitely different but its extremely diverse. It's a lot punchier and crisper and a bit more minimal than in the past but i think it almost makes things more impactful that way!

villanelleinsuits: Hi Lynn! You’re a creative genius, thanks for existing. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?? pvrisofficial: I would love to live in the UK countryside!!! Maybe Bath or something.

Queenio01: How are you feeling today? pvrisofficial: Sleepy but EXCITED to rehearse!

dancorcoran: How often do you get recognised by fans in day to day life? pvrisofficial: Not too often! I usually get recognized at coffee shops and starbucks though? and Lush hahaha

jessica_pasta: Hi Lynn!!! Was wondering how do you make your synth patches? What synth sounds are your favorites? Thanks so much! Love PVRIS and all that you do ❤️❤️❤️❤️ pvrisofficial: I use Zebra a lot and also use a Prophet Rev2. One of my favorite things is to throw synths through different effects to get an entirely new sound!

ImadaPC: Hi Lynn, I got a question. What inspires you to make music and why? pvrisofficial: What inspires me is wanting to hear something I havent heard! I want to hear all my favorite artists and influences into one thing so that's usually how PVRIS stuff is inspired haha.

staceelogreen: What are your stand out albums of this year!:) pvrisofficial: Great Q! 070 Shake - Modus Vivendi Tinashe - Songs For You (technically 2019 but I've been jamming it all year) They. - The Amanda Tape KAYTRANADA - Bubba (2019 but it came out late 2019 so it counts as 2020 for me!) Howling - Colure

DH00338: What are you most excited about in terms of this new era of PVRIS? pvrisofficial: More writing!! and more collaborations!

creewitch: Hiya Lynn! I hope your morning is going well. When have you felt the proudest of yourself and why? ☺️ pvrisofficial: Oooo good Q! I always think there's room for improvement so it's hard to feel pride, but I am definitely grateful for my resilience through the crazy shit haha.

liky_gecko: Because you’re from the Boston area, what are your favorite spots to eat/hang out there? I may be going to school there pvrisofficial: Do itttt! My fav spots are a little outside of the city.... the Crane Estate, Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Maudslay State Park in Newburyport, Portsmouth NH, Shedd Park Cemetery in Lowell.

goszkv: Hi Lynn! Was wondering if you'll ever consider coming to Poland :( ofc post corona pvrisofficial: yes!

cecy_db_11: Hi Lynn! Can't wait to see you guys this Saturday. How do you feel once the songs you write (your personal feelings and thoughts) are available for the world to listen? Do you get used to that over time? pvrisofficial: Still getting used to that to be honest. Once songs are out, I weirdly stop listening to them. Prior to that I listen in the car a lot and drive around testing songs out haha.

musicfan1976: Do you think the spring 2020 shows will still happen or be rescheduled again due to Covid? Stay healthy and take care. pvrisofficial: I truly have no idea.... :( you take care too! <3

yikesmiles: Hey Lynn! I hope you’re well! I’ve always been curious, what was it that inspired you to make music? pvrisofficial: Good Q! WHen I write, I try to write music that I want to hear that hasn't crossed my path yet.

LeahLNurse: Is there any unreleased songs you wish made it onto White Noise? pvrisofficial: Nope!

JRuiz1775: Hey Lynn! I remember the first time I saw and heard you guys was when you opened for Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens. I was hooked and have tried to see you guys anytime you are in my area. My question for you is what is your favourite tour experience? What is your dream tour to be on? pvrisofficial: There's SO many favorite tour experiences. I love touring the UK and Europe a lot, exploring before shows is my favorite thing and has some of my favorite memories. Our UK/EU tour with BMTH was one of my favorites.

ac-36: hi lynn! i love your music so much, it means a lot to me. if you were to remake your past music now, how do you think it would be different, and what do you think the future direction of the band will be? pvrisofficial: I would definitely approach the drum production a bit different but keep it pretty similar with the other textures/instruments! Future direction can go anywhere! Definitely want to keep taking risks and trying new things, but still keeping it dark!

staceelogreen: If you could go back in time to give yourself advice, what would you say to your past self? pvrisofficial: Take it easy on yourself.

NouveauJacques: Hi Lynn, huge fan and I love the power behind your music. Do you ever write songs that are too emotional and feel conflicted about putting into an album? pvrisofficial: usually if they feel too emotional or heavy, I know they need to be released haha

Defiant-Strawberry37: Hi Lynn, hope everything's okay with you and the band. I'd like to ask you what PVRIS' era you think is the best and why? Hope I can see you guys someday soon acting in Portugal. Love you all! PS: why so Lynnda? *portuguese pun intended, beautiful = linda in portuguese* ly! pvrisofficial: Thanks! I love every era tbh but I'm definitely always the most excited on the present moment!

pvrisbae: youre the cutest little soul ily. whats ur fav song at the moment? pvrisofficial: Brian showed it to me! It's "Too Late" by Washed Out.

agnespvris: Hi Lynn!! Have you had any good laughter when you've been looking through the #pvrismemes ?? pvrisofficial: oh you betcha.

whothefuckisrvmi: ok so im not understanding shit about this app but im here for you pvrisofficial: thank u

vioIentbounce: hi lynn! what do you think will be your favorite song from use me to play live? pvrisofficial: I think.... Good To Be Alive or Gimme A Min

jaydenc30: hi lynn I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and everything you do! I hope you are doing well, what was the first song you wrote for use me? What’s does PVRIS’s future look like to you? pvrisofficial: First song for Use Me was Old Wounds! I wrote it before the second album even came out haha

IrlandaBDelao: Hi lynn, would you be down to open commisions for tattoos? If so, how much would you charge for a drawing? pvrisofficial: I wish! I do not have time to at the moment :( but if I have time in the future, you will be first to know so you can get first dibs!

CookThePasta: are you really looking at all of our memes?? pvrisofficial: trying OUR BEST!!

nonoplznowhy: why did your parents name you Lynn? pvrisofficial: Lyndsey* but they always call me Lynn or Lynds. I was named after my mom's childhood bestfriend named Lynn, she passed away when my mom was pretty young :(

golrip: What is your favourite song on awknohawnoh and why? That album literally changed my life and shaped me into the person I am today so I would really love knowing your opinion. also: what's your favourite the weeknd song/album? pvrisofficial: NOLA 1! It was my favorite to write and the memory around that time is magical. We wrote it in New Orleans and it's my favorite city.

bnizz95: Hey Lynn!! I saw you guys perform for the first time live in Cambridge last September and im so excited about the stream. I was wondering what your favorite song/songs off this album are? Also, do you still steal rosemary from your neighbors? Hahaha pvrisofficial: hahaha I have a little rosemary plant that I use now :)

vioIentbounce: are you still making collages? if not, have you taken up any new artistic hobbies lately?❤️ pvrisofficial: Little collaging here and there :) I've been researching a lot of interior design and fashion design lately!

fee-lixdawkins: Hey Lynn! Excited for the livestream! I know you’re an AFI fan. What is your favorite album and song(s) by them? Would you ever want to tour with them? I’d kill to see that happen! Take care! pvrisofficial: Brian is the bigger AFI fan! I cant pick a fave Im scared

ivykrvft: How does it feel to (kinda) be performing again as an entire band after all these months? pvrisofficial: Really good!! Definitely going to be weird without you guys in front of us!!

Ariana_0918: hi lynn <3 i wanted to know when you saw florence in concert what was your favorite song she performed live? pvrisofficial: Cosmic Love. She played it first and it was acoustic, I instantly cried hahahaha

TheSinger_Z: Hey Lynn! How old were you when you first started writing songs? What is the most memorable prank/joke that you have pulled or has been pulled on you while on tour? How many instruments do you play and what’s your favourite? I just want to say thank you, you’re my biggest inspiration when it comes to music (I sing and I’m learning to play guitar and hope to do it professionally when I’m older as I’m only 14 😬), and I’m really thankful for you guys. I got meet and greet tickets for November 30th for the White Noise stream, so see you then! pvrisofficial: i was in the 3rd grade. the songs were horrible. Its not really a prank but we love having our in ear monitor tech do the worm on stage sometimes. Extra points when he does it in costume. I can play 7 instruments! Looking to add more to the arsenal over time. I love piano a lot and drums. Keep it up, can't wait to see you be a star!!! ALso the livestream is the 21st! DOnt want you to miss it :)

CheezeGrenade: I missed out on a lot of concerts growing up and I couldn't make it to a concert out of state that I bought tickets to about a year ago. Will you guys play through Awkohawnoh again in anyway? Such as Half/Winter/No Mercy/Walk Alone. Litterally that album and the one before got me through alot of depressive phases in my life and Awk has really inspired alot of my writing for a series I want to create someday. pvrisofficial: I cant wait for you to start writing it! You got this! We will be playing through AWKOHAWNOH but the date is not announced yet :)

srankie: Are y'all Pats fans? Red Sox? Bruins? Cause if not the Eagles family will accept you with open arms pvrisofficial: NEW ENGLAND/BOSTON ALL DAY BABY!

macauley7: Could u please ask harry styles if u could tour with him? I need a pvris x harry watermelon sugar vibes thanks pvrisofficial: I'll call him right now.

brisbubbles: Hey, Lynn! Can’t wait for Saturday! I was wondering, how do you feel about singing old tracks from WN since you relearned how to sing? What has that experience been like? Wishing you and Brian the best! xzlinx: I am wondering about this as well. Maybe I am just nosey but I wonder about the process of retraining your voice and what exactlt happened. It must have been insanely difficult on her mental health but goddamn what a trooper bc Use Me is unbelievable! pvrisofficial: Great questions!!! Singing WN is definitely a little challenging to begin with because I'm older and my tone isn't the tone of 19 year old me anymore haha. A big thing was anxiety which caused me to choke up a lot and tense my chords. Then when i was being coached, out of fear of damaging something we had to rebuild and start small and light which we think caused the chords/muscles to atrophy, which set it back further haha. I eventually went to another coach who then was able to take my "retrained" voice and then strengthen it up and rebuild it back to where it was before!

ImOnlyHalfAlive: Hey Lynn! First, I can't express just how much PVRIS has meant to me over the last couple of years. Your music has helped me through so much, and I will forever be grateful. My question is: What's a life mantra you've always lived by? pvrisofficial: Life mantra (theres a lot but this one I always connect to when it comes to career): Patience and persistence is key.

Okosano: Hi Lynn and greeting from Germany! The one and only important question here : Whats your favorite comfort food? pvrisofficial: Favorite comfort food...... Indian food! My absolute favorite.

Ok-Personality1480: What’s your favorite tea pls 🤠 pvrisofficial: Throat coat for singing, housemade chai for joy.

CookThePasta: Do you know the muffin man? pvrisofficial: yes

LynnGvnnFvn: What were the creative differences between writing an album like White Noise or AWKOHAWNOH and Use Me? pvrisofficial: Age, time, locations, different producers and collaborators!

unit525: How are the submissions for the meme competition looking? Any front runners emerging? pvrisofficial: It's a CLOSE call for a lot of them...

LynXiger: Which song from your discography is your least favourite and why? pvrisofficial: I wont say incase it is anyone's favorite!! hahaha

lgbtiffany: do you have a tendency to incorporate spirituality into your creative processes? love the album and can’t wait for the stream ✨❤️ pvrisofficial: I think creating is spiritual in itself! You're channeling sound and melody and MAGICCC! So yes!

vessed1: hiii. I’d love to know who found the White Noise mirror ☺️ pvrisofficial: Me too

LynXiger: What is your favourite genre to listen to? And how has this changed over time? pvrisofficial: I'm a big sucker for hip hop and pop... really anything that's catchy and hits hard and has cool production!

nicthehic: Hey Lynn! Been a huge fan for a long long time and took up doing music professionally because I was inspired by you and the rest of Pvris’ rise and work ethic. I was wondering if there was anything you would do differently while recording your first album and any advice to new ish band working on their first professional project (in the midst of covid no less) and any tips to make our first album just as great and timeless as white noise Thank you! pvrisofficial: Awww this is awesome! I'm sure you're gonna crush it! I definitely would have wanted to make the production a little different but keep a lot of the same fundamental aspects/textures. Do what YOU feel you want to create and dont feel any outside pressures. Crush it! Cant wait for you to record!

minidudette106: Hey Lynn, Do you ever think its crazy that people get tattoos of your lyrics & ones inspired by your music? also wondering what your thoughts are on pineapple on pizza? lol pvrisofficial: I used to get freaked out bc I didnt think my lyrics were great but now I think its so cool! haha.

Hot-Lime3627: Hi Lynn, how is Opal and the other cat whom you took care of during quarantaine doing ? pvrisofficial: They are back with their owner! I truly miss them every single day... they were my little fluffy pals.

kelcea244: How do you keep your creative muscle flexed so you’re ready to create? And do you create every day? EDIT: Also really sad you guys weren’t able to make it over to the UK this month! We’ll be so psyched for you when you do come! pvrisofficial: We are sad too!!! We can't wait to get back whenever it is safe to play shows there. I miss it every day! I try to create every day even if it's just 5-10 minutes, always good to keep those muscles flexed!

socksgrowonbushes: first of all i just want to say how much i admire you, you’re amazing :) my question is what is your favourite song you have ever written? is it one that’s on an album? one that hasn’t even been released? i’m curious pvrisofficial: Use Me!

LadyEpicenter25: What the significance of playing in Arizona?! pvrisofficial: Resources to make the stream happen and rehearsals happen :)

bitchesonthephone: I have one question and one question only: When will we get Let’s Go Vertigo? pvrisofficial: NEVERRRRRR

Antique_Performer_45: Hi Lynn! I’ve been a big fan of PVRIS for a few years now. Which song from Use Me was your favorite to write? I love you guys! pvrisofficial: Use Me! or Good To Be Alive!

JadeAdelaideee: Hello!!! You’ve been a huge help with me realising I was gay, is there anyone who you would look up to when you were younger who sort of helped ease that journey? 💕✨ pvrisofficial: tbh i didnt have many. It was the scattered bits of magical gay representation on teen tv shows like Degrassi/Skins etc. haha

brandonjback: what song are you most proud of from AWKOHAWNOH? pvrisofficial: Anyone Else and NOLA 1!

DixieF: A question I've been waiting ages to ask. Why are you guys so awesome? pvrisofficial: We got awesome parents!!!

Emmahumphrees: Out of all yours songs what is your favourite lyric?? pvrisofficial: "On the porch the ceiling's painted baby blue dressed to the nines just like the sky in early afternoon 'cause it's midnight and the ghosts might be coming soon" Its a reference to a New Orleans superstition that the baby blue porch ceiling would ward off spirits in the night to trick them that it was the daytime sky.

lgbtiffany: what was the most difficult part of trying to regain your voice when you were having troubles with it? pvrisofficial: Definitely just getting on stage every night knowing it wasn't working and having to pretend it was... haha. Super embarrassing.

cnnrtower: Hi Lynn! MA fan here who first saw PVRIS open for A Skylit Drive at the Palladium in 2013. Super incredible to watch the journey for the band / yourself as an artist! What was the first gig/experience that made you stop and realize that PVRIS was going places? pvrisofficial: one of our first headline shows in CT back in 2015. Show was crazy!!

KimLC24: I was just wondering how you get your inspiration to do your art and music? because it can sometimes be hard to even get motivated let alone create pvrisofficial: Totally relate and understand! I won’t lie, the older I get, the more I need to hype myself up and set a tone to create, especially when there’s so much music swirling around us at all times (the internet/streaming/etc). I almost always have a moody or dreamy movie/show playing on my ipad next to me while I work so that way there’s an inspiring visual going.

deadweighttttt: Hi Lynn!!! What’s your all time favourite lyric from the album?! pvrisofficial: HII!! "Do you even notice how easy you've got this? Taking wings off a goddess if I'm being honest"

Pvffreis: Hi Lynn, I have no idea how to use this/reddit but great to see you here! Hope you're doing good? <3 Update: I figured out how to edit comments ayyy I just signed up to ask you this very important question: Red or green apples? pvrisofficial: Idk how either but I think I got it!! Red apples! W PB

dancingonslowsand: Hi Lynn!! Been following PVRIS for a while and I’ve loved seeing how your sound has evolved over the years. Do you have any idea of what direction you want the band to go in the future? Or are you just riding the wave and seeing what happens? Also what’s your fav bird pvrisofficial: Thanks so much! I definitely plan to just keep riding the wave… I feel like every album leaves some room for the direction to go anywhere so the next chapter never feels too restricted. I have been feeling pretty hyped and high energy lately so I feel like it may reflect that a bit! Fav bird is… PENGUINS (even though people debate that they are mammals.)

pvrisofficial: Okay my friends, I gotta head out and get to rehearsals! This was so much fun, sorry I couldn't get to every Q. Love yall! See you guys so soon! <3

November 18th, 2020

[dovechim]

sugar, spice, and everything nice (m)

➾ 13k, weak sperm jimin x witch! reader, a crack smut essentially

➾ summary: you and jimin have been trying for a baby for the past six months, to no avail, but then you realise one crucial mistake: you’ve been neglecting your witchy heritage. what ensues is a month of trial and tribulation... for jimin at least. 

➾ warnings: mentions of difficulty conceiving, oral sex (m/f), snowballing, cock ring (kind of??), sex toys, ball play, impregnation, cum inflation, degradation, power play, clit and titty spanking, name calling, jimin is a cum machine, jimin gets cockblocked by a cat

➾ a/n: i died while writing this, but happy birthday to my sunshine boy, my angel, the love of my life, mr park jimin. your beauty and the kindness of your soul never ceases to amaze me. 

➾ a huge. huge. huge. thank you to @94hixtape because she supported me like a victoria’s secret bombshell bra throughout this entire process. right from the start when i decided to speed write this at the last minute, to when i was yelling at her about how i can’t do this anymore :”) i am eternally in your debt, lu. i hope you enjoy Mr Muffin <3

“No, Jimin. For the last time, you can’t ‘squeeze in a quickie’ before we leave. It’s not the right time,” you push your husband away with impatient hands as you try to get your winged liner just right. “The Ascendant is in Gemini, not Libra, and Cancer isn’t in the 10th house. Do you even have any idea what this means?”

Jimin stares at you with a blank expression on his face. “Um, no?”

You sigh in exasperation, channelling a little of your inner focus to get the flick on your left eye. Jimin watches you in the mirror with a little pout on his plush lips, leaning over to bury them in your neck as he scatters kisses all over your warm skin. “All I know is that I’m horny, and I want to make a baby. Right now. Little Jimothy is telling me that right now is the right time.”

Putting him on hold as you layer on some black liquid lipstick, you raise an eyebrow at him in the mirror before you turn to look pointedly at his crotch. As per doctor’s orders, Jimin is wearing loose boxer shorts with no underwear in an effort to promote testicular health and raise his sperm count. You’ve been trying for a baby with him for the past 6 months, and while you’re not entirely desperate to have one, Jimin gets hard at the thought of you being round and heavy with his child. You never knew he had such a preference for pregnant women, till he told you that he also very much enjoys the baby-making process.

A little too much, if you do say so yourself, since there has been little success so far.

Sometimes you think Jimin is doing this on purpose because he likes to see you all plugged up with his semen, only to pull out and watch the thick mixture leak from you. But you’ve been doing it in every position possible, timing it with your ovulation and aiming for multiple loads a day with your hips raised in the air after each one, and still… nothing. Although, the look on your husband’s face every time he slides his cock into your already filled, sloppy seconds pussy is second to none, so you indulge him (and maybe yourself too).

After several doctor’s visits and checkups, you realized that you’ve been neglecting one very important part of your heritage. You do come from a line of witches, after all, and perhaps the solution to your woes lies in the supernatural. So tonight, at the witch’s coven meeting, you’re going to find some answers.

���Come on, we’re late, get changed.” You purse your lips at yourself in the mirror once before rising and turning to get your bag. “And don’t wear those tight jeans, baby. Wear the ones I got you instead.”

You catch Jimin right in the act as he’s about to shove his other leg through his favourite pair of light wash jeans, the ones that cup his ass so perfectly, but cradle his balls a little too closely. Caught red-handed, Jimin slowly eases his remaining leg out of the jeans before dropping them to the ground, slightly upset as he turns to open the cupboard. You recognize all the signs of him throwing a mini tantrum- his cheeks are puffy, lips more pouty than usual and he is fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, unable to maintain eye contact.

“What’s wrong?” You crowd in behind him, lifting your arms to encircle his waist as you press wet kisses to his chubby little cheeks. Jimin always claims to hate it when you do anything involving his cheeks, but you know he secretly loves the attention. He also loves it when you baby talk him, although he’d rather eat bat spleen than admit it. “Is my little baby daddy upset? Tell me so I can make it better.”

He turns away from you in an attempt to play hard to get, but you are nothing if not persistent, and you know your husband’s moods all too well. “Is this because the doctor won’t let you wear tight jeans anymore?”

“…No.”

“Oh come on, you know you can’t lie to me.” You turn him to face you, hands sliding down his back to cup his supple ass with both palms. “I know how much you love your ass, and trust me baby, I do too. But this is for the good of… Jimothy. Alright?”

You do your best to keep from grimacing as you use his favourite word for his… thing. But Jimin still seems unconvinced as he glances down at his thighs.

“Here. I’ll cast this new spell that I learnt the other day. It’ll make your pants look tighter on the outside, so that everyone will still know that you have thighs and an ass to die for. Okay?” You smooth your thumb over his cheek, satisfied when he finally grins like a rosy cheeked cherub.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you give him a quick kiss to his lower belly before focusing on the loose material of his jeans. Closing your eyes and channelling your inner energies, you whisper a few words and feel the burst of magic surge through your fingertips. When you open your eyes again, you are immediately assaulted with the sight of his gorgeous thick thighs that you know and love, bands of corded muscle that have brought you to the height of ecstasy.

“There. Better?” You glance up at him, studying his reaction.

Jimin considers his new appearance, even turning to appreciate his own ass in the mirror before he finally deems it satisfactory. But as he turns to you once more, you notice something else. The front of his loose jeans are currently tented, and Jimin fidgets on the balls of his feet when he realises.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ve just been so on edge, baby,” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I haven’t jerked off in the last month like you told me to. My balls are so full right now, I think I could fill up an entire cauldron. It’s just… your position down there…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you run a hand up his thighs to soothe him, but it only works him up further as a wet patch begins to form. “Let me help you feel better. Just sit on the bed and relax, baby.”

You push him backwards so that he sinks onto your shared bed with his thighs spread wide. Positioning yourself between his legs, your mouth begins to water as you anticipate the feeling of him in your mouth once more. You haven’t sucked him off since you began trying for a baby, reason being that not even one drop of cum should go to waste. Everything should end up in your pussy where it belongs. But given that the moon and the sun are not aligned tonight, you can afford to waste one tiny little load of his. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to test his sperm count with that spell you’ve been meaning to try.

Jimin’s hips are already canting upwards in anticipation as you fiddle with the button on his jeans, flicking it open and taking him out. He is already swollen and dripping with precum in your hand, and you take the opportunity to tease him with kitten licks to his head, cleaning up every drop. He is salty and sweet on your tongue, and as you take him in deeper, his girth forces your mouth open wider.

“All the way, please, deeper,” Jimin is whining as lifts the hem of his shirt to run his fingers over his tensed abdomen, all the way to his peaked nipples. A glance down at you almost makes him lose his load on the spot- your black lips are devouring his cock, leaving a ring of black stain around his base. As if you are a Dementor sucking his soul straight out from his dick, but Jimin can’t think of any better way to go.

Loosening your throat, you push your nose into the patch of hair at his base, swallowing hard around his length so that he can feel the way your throat tightens around him. This elicits a very audible groan from him as he bucks his hips into you, expletives pouring from those dirty lips of his.

“I’m-m gonna cum, fuck, can’t last much longer,” there is a tinge of embarrassment in his voice, but to encourage him to cum down your throat, you massage his inner thigh soothingly, swallowing around him a few more times. His cock jerks and pulses upon your tongue, and salty warm liquid engulfs your tastebuds.

You milk him dry with your lips tightening around him, sucking him for all he’s worth, but not swallowing just yet. The jets of cum seem never ending, but each pulse gets weaker and weaker till Jimin squirms in your grip with a soft moan, cock softening as it slips out entirely.

Judging by the taste alone, his sperm count seems to have improved slightly, and the viscosity of his cum seems to be in tip top condition as you swallow the entire mixture down, and it slides down your throat with some difficulty. It’s still bitter though, and before you can think to salvage some of it for your spell, Jimin sits up and brings his mouth to yours. You push what’s left of his cum in your mouth into his with your tongue, and he moans in response, lapping it up eagerly. The resulting kiss is sloppy and messy, a mixture of his cum and your saliva dripping down both your chins.

You draw away to catch your breath, glancing in the mirror to check your black lip, only to see that it hasn’t budged at all.

Impressive.

You turn back to help Jimin with his pants- sans underwear of course, doctors orders- and with a snap of your fingers, the wet patch on the front of his jeans is gone. Jimin chuckles as he brings you in close for a kiss.

“That’s my beautiful, witchy wife.”

*

People are staring openly on the subway as you navigate through the many stairs to locate the right exit. To be fair, you do look quite the spectacle- bat wing sleeved, ankle length dress billowing behind you as you stride purposefully, with a full matte black lip and contrasting shades of autumn themed eyeshadow on your lids. Jimin is evidently a fan of the thigh high slit going up the side- you’ve had to bat his hands away a number of times already.

“Do people just… hold coven meetings in like, function rooms or something?” Jimin is glancing at the passing street signs with wonder. “Or is it a home affair? Could these any of these houses be home to a coven of witches? Will our home be a coven?”

“Ok firstly, a coven means a group of witches,” you stroke your thumb over his knuckles gently to take the sting out of your words. “But yes. Modern day witches do exist, and they are scattered far and wide. And no. We won’t be hosting any meetings, not if you don’t want me to, baby.”

You stop abruptly when you realise that you’ve almost walked past Number 31 on Ursula Street. Ascending the steps, you rap smartly on the door exactly 7 times.

“You’ll be, uh… throwing off our numbers a little,” you whisper to Jimin. “Usually we don’t allow observers into closed rituals. Runs the risk of disrupting things, we’re usually very secretive about the happenings of our meetings. Just some witchy logic. But I told them about us, and they said it’s okay.”

Before Jimin can respond, the door flings open, and Jisoo launches herself into your arms, squealing your name in excitement.

You are equally enthralled to be in the embrace of your best friend once more. Ever since you married Jimin, you’d skipped out on weekly coven meetings and rituals for fear of making Jimin feel left out, or subjecting him to their scrutiny. It’s uncommon for a witch to marry a Non Mag, practically unheard of in your wizarding community. But going totally MIA on your coven has since taken its toll on you, making it harder to conjure your magic and focus your energies.

Upon stepping into Jisoo’s house, you can immediately feel the effects of being near your coven rejuvenate your weary body- sparks of electricity running up and down your arms, your blood bubbling with a renewed sense of vitality, and-

Jimin is looking at you with a look of amazement and incredulity on his face.

“Shit, you look-“ he stutters on his words, unable to articulate just how alive you seem, eyes glowing and cheeks rosy, and entirely in your element here. “If I thought you were beautiful before, you are positively incandescent now.”

“Wait, really?” You touch your cheeks self consciously. “Oh- well, it’s because-“

“Come in, come in! We don’t have all night, our first ritual is about to start soon!” Rose bustles into the hallway, bundling you up in her arms and personally escorting you to the living room. When you make a sound of protest, glancing over your shoulder at Jimin, she pauses. “Oh, is this the husband you’ve been hiding away from us all this time?”

“Yeah, um…”

“Hi, I’m Jimin,” Jimin says hesitantly, but Rose, blasé as she always is, merely spares him a nod as she continues to usher everyone to the living room.

“Ritual first. Introductions can wait.”

The living room is darkened, with silver candles positioned around the room at strategic spots to lend the entire setting an eerie glow when you set them alight simultaneously with a wave of your arm. You can feel Jimin’s amazed eyes on you, for you typically don’t do such grand gestures of magic around him. But here, surrounded by your coven- your closest sisters- you are home.

“Show off,” Joy mutters playfully under her breath. “You’ve always been so good with that.”

“Well. Fire is my element,” you shrug as you take your place in the chalk drawn circle. “I do it more for the dramatic flair. Though I do quite like to be the queen of darkness.”

There are primroses and daisies scattered all across the floor within the circle, and a basket of strawberries sits waiting by the side as offerings. Joy picks up the basket, distributing them around the circle before she settles back in her spot. Rose has lit up some incense sticks and is passing them around, purifying the space with a sweet and flowery scent before the circle is cast.

Jisoo takes your hand, and you link hands with Joy on your other side. Together, the five of you are equally spread around the circle, and when you are all connected, you feel a familiar rush of exhilaration buzz in your veins. You close your eyes to concentrate as your leader, Jisoo, begins the chant to invoke your coven’s deity- the Norse goddess Freya, also known as Queen of the Valkyries, the goddess of love, beauty, sex, and quite fittingly, you note to yourself, fertility.

Jisoo begins the chant with a low hum in her voice. “I call upon the powers of the East, powers of air to help me clear my mind.”

To her left, you continue. “I call upon the powers of the South, powers of fire reminding me of my inner strength.”

Joy’s turn. “I call upon the powers of the West, powers of water which connects me to the Mother’s blood.”

And lastly, Rose’s voice comes out loud and clear. “I call upon the powers of the North, powers of the Earth to keep my body strong, and my mind centred.”

And then all four voices are lifted in harmony with one another, four bodies merged as one, centered in sisterhood and anchored in blood.

Freya, Goddess of Magick Mother of the Earth, keeper of the runes I invite you to join us. Freya, Goddess of the many names, Goddess of nature and fertility Mother of the silver moon hear us. Freya, Goddess of Love Join us. Freya, your guidance and wisdom I seek. Come to us now.

And then silence, as the candlelight dances over your face, casting a shadowy cloak over your features, and Jimin hears the wind howling outside. From his vantage point in the hallway, even he can taste the electrified atmosphere on his tongue, feel the hairs on his arm stand on edge as the elements are summoned, feel the heat of your fire burning away in the depths of his chest.

There is a moment when it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and then the four of you rise to your feet at the same time, dropping your interlinked hands as the circle is broken.

With a wave of your hand, the candles are extinguished, and the lights come back on. You turn to Jimin still in the hallway with a grin on your face, sliding into his embrace with your cheek on his chest. “How was that?”

“You were magnificent.”

*

Jimin needs to come to these coven meetings more often.

He is currently in Jisoo’s kitchen, stuffing his face with the main course of roast turkey, sweet potato fries, French onion soup with pumpkin pie for dessert. It’s practically a Thanksgiving dinner right in the middle of August! He kicks himself for not asking about these meetings sooner. If he knew he would get to feast like a king like this, he would have been clocking in regular attendance months ago.

Jimin snags a spare plate, loading a heaping scoop of roast turkey for you. Having relocated to the kitchen when you said you needed some private time with your coven, Jimin realises that he hasn’t seen you ever since, and while the other girls have darted in and out to grab bites of food, he’s positive you haven’t had a bite to eat tonight.

And he can’t have that.

Venturing into the now normally lit living room, he finds you curled up on the couch with Joy, and the both of you are clasping each other’s hands and looking as if you are discussing something intense.

“Um, sorry to interrupt, but…”

“Jimin! Oh no, of course not, sorry for stealing your wife away,” Joy giggles, making a move to push herself up from the couch. “I need to get some things from the other room. You can have her back. We’re pretty much done now.”

“Oh,” Jimin says as he takes her place beside you, pushing the plate of food into your hands. “Don’t let me get in the way, though. I just wanted to make sure my wife had something to eat. I’ll just watch her finish this and you can continue after that.”

Sighs of envy follow, and Jisoo props her chin on her knees as she stares at you wistfully. “You got a good one there, _____. Don’t let him go.”

“Thank you, baby,” you lean over to kiss Jimin’s cheek, grinning when there is cooing and giggling from the other girls. “Everything okay so far?”

“Everything’s great!” Jimin is grinning enthusiastically. “The food especially. I could stay here all night!”

“No need for that,” you chuckle, starting to dig in on the mouthwatering slabs of luscious, fatty meat that Jimin had picked out for you. “We’re almost done. In fact, I was just about to tell you that we can go. I just need the stuff from Joy.”

The gravy is deliciously salty and savoury, and once again you have to compliment Jisoo’s culinary expertise. You finish the entire plate in the blink of an eye, with Jimin’s watchful gaze making sure that you get the nutrition you need. He jumps up and offers to get you a second plate when you’re done, but then Joy reappears with a hefty looking leather bag in one hand, and a bag full of Tupperware in the other.

“Got your stuff here,” she hands you the carrier with a wink, “and packed some food for you to take home here. C’mon, just take it already. You know we can’t finish these all on our own. And it looks like Jimin-“ she cuts herself off with a host of giggles. “Jimin’s going to need his strength in the coming weeks.”

“Wait, what-“ Jimin’s confused glance at you goes unanswered as you roll your eyes at her, but accept her offering.

Glancing into the leather bag furtively, you sling it over your shoulder, as you get up from the couch. Jimin takes the bag of food from Joy as he follows you out to the hallway. “Baby, need help with that other bag? It looks heavy, let me carry it.”

You seem a little distracted as you meet his gaze. “Oh, what? No it’s okay. Let’s get home. I already called our Uber.”

“Good luck Jimin!!!” The three other girls shout from the living room as you usher Jimin out the door hastily, shushing him when he tries to ask any questions.

Little does Park Jimin know what he’s in for in the coming weeks.

*

A soft meow stirs him from his sleep, and Jimin opens his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them as he glances around in confusion. A cat? You and him don’t own one, so why-

“Say hi to Mr Egg McMuffin!” You are currently holding a cat with fur as dark as midnight, cradling him like a baby to your chest as he explores your chin with his paws. “Mr Muffin, do you wanna say hi to Jimin here?”

And then you practically thrust the cat at him, and in his haste to catch Mr Muffin, Jimin’s thumb nearly ends up in his butthole as he struggles to hold the silky black cat in his arms. Mr Muffin’s eyes are a luminous orange- strange eye colour, Jimin’s never seen an orange eyed cat before- as he glances up at Jimin and proceeds to lick his paw.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

“U-um, yeah, sure babe, but wh-where did you get this? Surely not-“ Jimin breaks off to stare at the leather bag Joy had given you the other night.

“Oh no, don’t be silly,” you reach over to scoop Mr Muffin out of his arms. “He’s my familiar. Most witches have pets that they call familiars, and this is mine. I’ve been keeping him at Jisoo’s all this while because… well I didn’t know how you’d react to him. But after last night, I thought it might be finally time to bring him home.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at the black cat in your arms suspiciously. Alright, but that still doesn’t answer his question of precisely where you got that damned cat from. “Yeah, but where-“

Mr Muffin cuts him off by meowing loudly, his tail lashing back and forth.

“Oh look! Mr Muffin wants to be fed,” you coo at the cat, nuzzling your nose into his soft fur as you start to walk out of the room. Jimin’s eyes are immediately drawn to your bare legs, and he can feel the blood start to rush south as he greedily eats up the expanse of skin revealed to him.

“Baby…” Jimin whines, pushing aside the covers to reveal his cock, already starting to leak precum.

You glance backwards to take in this sight, and then return to nuzzling the cat’s soft belly. “Give me a minute baby-“

Jimin settles back into his pillow with his arms behind his head, a hand sneaking downwards to tug at his length before he realises-

“-you’ll get your food soon.”

That you were talking to the fucking cat and not him.

Once you’re out of the room, you allow Mr Muffin to leap out of your arms. As you scoop some food out for him into a bowl, you turn to him in a serious manner.

“Mr Muffin, I need your help.” At your imploring tone, he turns to you with a wise look in his eyes. “You already know what I’m asking for right? Jimin and I are trying to have a baby. But the problem is, he’s so fucking horny all the time, he can’t stop jerking off. The doctor says that it’s making his sperm all watery and weak, and it’s affecting our chances of conceiving.”

He sympathises with a meow and a headbutt against your knee.

“I know, thanks for the concern, Mr Muffin.” You sigh. “So I need you to help me stop him from masturbating. When I’m not home, you need to interrupt him and, I don’t know- shove your butt in his face like you used to do to me all the time back in high school.”

A few lashes of his tail as Mr Muffin considers your preposition.

“Please, Mr Muffin?” You scratch him just between the ears, just how he likes it, and he purrs in enjoyment. “You’re Jimin’s last hope. He can’t keep his hands off his dick. He’s probably in there jerking off as we speak. I can handle this one by myself, but in the future, it’s gonna be all you, buddy.”

Mr Muffin yawns, then approaches his food bowl. You take this to be a sign of agreement.

“Great! I’ll get you those tuna bites you like next time.” You need to sweeten him up somehow.

But that’s one thing done and checked off your list for now.

*

“I need to- what?” Jimin is currently half naked as you accost him after his shower. Well, he’s fully naked now, since you just ripped the towel off his lower half.

“Wear this. It’s a fetility sachet I made.” You dangle a pink silk cloth bag from your finger, roughly the size of a soup dumpling.

You’d spent all afternoon putting this together with the recipe from Joy. Since Joy’s element is Earth, you figured she was more in touch with Mother Earth than you are, and hence would be the perfect person to go to for advice. This particular recipe called for three mistletoe berries, one drop of Patchouli oil, one pinch of oak leaves, one hawthorne flower and a pinch of powdered mandrake. It wasn’t easy getting mistletoe berries when Christmas is this far away, but thankfully you managed to secure a good supply.

“Uh, okay,” Jimin holds out his hand. “Just put it around my wrist or something.”

“No, it has to be worn as close to the testicles as possible,” you tell him, taking a hold of his soft dick and pushing it against his damp abdomen. “Or else it loses its effectiveness. Just let me… loop this around back here… and cross that over here… there!”

You complete the knot around the base of his dick, being careful so as not to cut off his blood circulation as you position the bag just under his balls and lower his dick back into place. “Does it feel okay? Too tight? Too loose?”

“Wait, just a second,” Jimin reaches down to fidget with the string tied around his dick, already feeling uncomfortable with having something swinging around and hitting his balls. “H-how long do I have to wear this for?”

“All day. At night, you can put it under your pillow, and if we’re having sex, under the mattress.”

Jimin’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Are you- fucking with me? I have to wear this… thing near my balls all fucking day?”

“Baby, don’t be like this,” you reach for his hand to placate him, but when he moves it away from you in irritation, you reach for the back of his neck instead, massaging it soothingly and focusing your calming energies into your fingertips. “It’s for… Jimothy’s own good. You want Jimothy to be as strong and as healthy as possible right? It’ll help with your sperm count and the thickness of your semen. The thicker the semen the better, since it’ll have all the nutrients your sperms need to swim as fast as possible to my egg.”

Jimin can feel the constriction around his dick getting tighter and tighter as you go on and on with your scientific facts about conception. When he glances down, his cock is slowly hardening- all this talk about cum is making him hard, but the stupid fucking charm on his cock won’t let him get to full erection without taking it off.

“God, alright,” he says in annoyance, closing his eyes as he flexes a thigh muscle hard, in order to try and redirect some of that blood flow from his burgeoning erection. “S-speaking of your egg, when are you ovulating this month?”

“Your dick looks so cute like that!” You coo as your fingers stroke over his soft, limp cock.

“It’s Jimothy,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Thank you baby,” you kiss him on the cheek sweetly, and he can smell the whiff of your cherry and tangerine scented perfume- which almost sends him right back to square one. “It should be the end of this week. So we have to get your sperm all healthy and ready to go.”

Thank fuck, Jimin thinks to himself, exhaling a breath to calm down. Not long more till his doctor imposed abstinence is lifted from him. Having to restrict himself to cumming only during a certain week a month is taking a toll on him, the blue balls are excruciatingly painful to suffer through especially when you like to push your ass back into his crotch when he is spooning you in bed every night. 

Suddenly, Jimin longs for the days of high school and college where he would masturbate till his cock was raw and his balls were empty. Now, he spends most of his time with his dick untouched and balls brimmingly full. He didn’t think baby making sex would be this torturous. His 19 year old self had always imagined fucking till his dick threatened to drop off, having sex non-stop at all hours of the day, constantly spilling his load and watching it leak out like it was the nectar of the gods. And because it was in so much abundance, he even fantasised about cleaning it all up with his tongue once or twice.

“I’m off to work now, have a good day!” You give him a quick kiss on his lips on tiptoe. “Wait I forgot! I need to say a brief enchantment to your balls- er I mean Jimothy over here.”

So you get down to your knees, cheeks against his balls, nuzzling them ever so slightly. Jimin feels the surge of blood rush downwards again, and he grunts in pain as the baby pink ribbon tightens around his slowly hardening dick.

“Oh goddess Freya, please join us as we bid for your blessings. Please allow our efforts to come to fruition, pour your anointing oil upon our ever yearning bodies as we strive to become one with Mother Nature.”

And then you are on your feet, kissing him on the cheek once more before heading out the door.

Jimin collapses on the bed in a heady rush, his erection fighting valiantly against the silk string tied around his base. He listens carefully for the sounds of the main door, then the gate unlocking and closing, then waits a few heartbeats more just to be sure.

Then, his hand sneaks down his toned chest, over his ripped abdomen, gripping his base tightly as he lets out a groan of relief. Impatiently, he tugs at one of the strings to loosen it, seeking to remove the offending object entirely so that he can stroke one out to his heart’s desire. The thought of painting his abs with his own cum has him beyond aroused, and his heart is racing, pounding in his chest as he swallows hard, spreading his thighs.

“MEOW!!!”

A mass of black fur pounces on him, and he yells out in surprise.

He drops his dick to attend to the hellcat currently taking up residence on his face, writhing and meowing and yelling so loudly that his head begins to spin. There is fur in his mouth, and he sputters to try and clear his throat.

“God-pppthhht fucking damn it Mr-ppthh Mr Egg- MR MUFFIN!!!”

For the love of all things that are holy, Mr Muffin has decided to stick his butt in Jimin’s face. He is now granted with a front row seat to a very intimate part of Mr Muffin he would much rather not be acquainted with, and his erection dies down very quickly.

He finally manages to grasp the cat by its mid-section, placing it on the floor and shooing it away with a general kick in its direction. It comes nowhere near hitting him, but it does the trick. Mr Muffin skedaddles, hissing all the way, but the damage has been done, and Jimin’s raging boner is no longer so.

*

You can feel the telltale signs of your ovulation period drawing near.

Tender twinges on one side of your belly, and your discharge is running clearer than normal. According to the ovulation test you took at work just now, the results came out negative, but you usually take more than one test anyway. It should begin anytime soon now, but you’ll take the next test at least 10 hours from now in order to make sure.

When you get home, Mr Muffin greets you loudly at the door. You reach down to give him pets and scratches, and he weaves in and out of your stride as you head to the kitchen to fix something to eat.

“Mr Muffin, were you good today baby?” You say loudly, glancing in the direction of Jimin’s study to make sure he doesn’t suddenly appear, before crouching down to tickle Mr Muffin’s chin. His entire ebony body vibrates in a purr, and you whisper to him furtively. “Did anything happen while I was gone?”

Mr Muffin blinks at you slowly, once, twice, three times.

“He did?!” You say with a gasp. “I knew it. I knew it. That horny bastard can’t keep his hands off his dick for longer than a second. When? The moment I stepped out of the house? Oh god.”

The study door opens, and you straighten up with a smile on your face. Jimin comes padding out in his white tee and loose grey sweatpants, his classic attire on his days off. He seems to be waddling a little, walking awkwardly, but you surmise that it’s probably due to the little charm hanging near his balls.

“Hi baby, did you have a good day? Are you hungry? I was going to start dinner,” you smile as you turn to the fridge to start getting out the salad ingredients.

Jimin does a double take to make sure that you are, indeed, talking to him and not that blasted Mr Muffins this time. He sends a narrow eyed glare in Mr Muffin’s general direction- he should really talk to you about the terms of endearment the two of you use in your relationship- but the cat only yawns, exposing his razor sharp canines.

“It was alright, how was yours?” He shuffles in next to you to start boiling water for the pasta.

“Hmm, the usual, that stupid brat Jeongguk came in drunk again today. I don’t even know why we need an intern, but he’s quite possibly the brattiest intern we’ve had.” You chop up several tomatoes and apples before tossing them into the bowl with the lettuce. “Was it too uncomfortable?”

“What?” Jimin turns to you in the midst of measuring out the noodles. “Wh-oh! You mean the charm? It was alright.”

His grudging tone elicits him a kiss on his cheek as you cuddle into his chest to placate him. Jimin steals a kiss from your lips, savouring your lips on his own as his hands wander down to grab a handful of your ass, pulling you into his grasp. “I missed you while you were gone today.”

“I know, I missed you too,” you pull away and cup his cheeks in both hands. “You’re so good to me you know? Thank you for being so tolerant of all this. I know it’s been hard, but I’m sure it will pay off.” You kiss him on his nose before brushing his hair off his forehead and giving him another smooch there. “I got you something that I think you’ll really like.”

Jimin perks up immediately. “A surprise?”

“Come here baby, leave dinner for a sec,” you take his hand and lead him to the living room.

On your way back from work, you’d stopped by a shop that Joy recommended to you. Pulling the velvet bag out of its plastic carrier, you loosen the drawstring and pull out-

Jimin’s heart skips a beat as he watches you pull out a flesh coloured dildo the size of his forearm. He dry swallows a few times, feeling his dick stir in his sweats. “I-is that-“

“Yes, it is,” you grin at him.

God. That thing is massive. Jimin can feel himself getting excited just by thinking of getting to use it on you. It may not be the same as getting to fuck you himself, but just the thought of watching you take another dick that isn’t his own- and one of this size too- is more than enough to tide him over for now. 
He pulls you into his arms.

“I think dinner can wait, babe.” Jimin is suddenly hungry for something else.

You giggle against his chest.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom,” Jimin whispers huskily into your ear, sweeping you into his arms, onto his shoulder and spanking your ass cheek hard.

He plops you onto the bed, and your thighs part involuntarily. Jimin settles himself in between and kisses your lower belly as his hands skim up the insides of your thigh.

“I’ve been wet all day,” you admit to him as he pushes your skirt up. “In fact, I think I soaked through my panties. They’re ruined.”

“Oh really?” Jimin kisses a wet trail up your inner thigh. “I think… I’ll have to check for myself.”

Lifting your ass briefly so that he can get your skirt over your hips, Jimin scoops both arms under your legs. His breaths are now directly against your core.

“Look what we have here,” he explores the wet patch on your underwear with the tip of his tongue, making it even wetter. Then, he licks the entire area with his tongue, saturating the white cotton entirely. “So fucking sweet. A-are you ovulating already? Your pussy only tastes like this when you’re ripe for me.”

You squirm in his grasp as he pushes the crotch aside to press his nose into you intimately. “M-maybe, the te-test I took earlier-“

Jimin doesn’t wait to hear the results of the test as he tears your underwear off with a ravenous growl, dipping his tongue into your slit as he laps up every drop of your arousal. Every lick assaults your already engorged clit, brushing against it roughly as Park Jimin spreads your thighs wide. You are incredibly exposed to him as he devours your pussy like a man starved, and you can see the way his hips are gyrating against the mattress as if he is a dog in heat.

“So- fucking- sweet, can’t wait to fuck you full of my babies,” Jimin pants into your inner thigh, taking a moment to tease you with two fingers. He slides them into your entrance just barely, stretching you out and then withdrawing them. Sticky, clear strings of your arousal connect his fingers to your pussy, and he plays with them for a moment, pulling his fingers away to see how far they’ll stretch. Jimin takes pleasure in breaking them as his plush lips wrap around his digits. “Look how sticky and wet your pussy is baby. All ready for me to give you a baby. I don’t need some stupid test to tell me that there’s a ripe little egg waiting.”

“Jimin, please,” you thread your fingers into his hair, pulling him in closer. You can feel yourself just on the edge of orgasm, just a few more flicks to your sensitive clit and-

Your breath is ripped from your lungs as Jimin attaches his plump lips to your clit and just sucks, and you wail his name so loud that your throat goes raw. You can feel yourself leaking copious amounts of your arousal as you spasm around nothing, but Jimin licks every drop of it as if it was his last meal.

Then, he reaches for the huge pale dildo lying forgotten by your side, and you feel the head of it bump against your lips gently.

“Fuck, you’re so small,” Jimin exclaims, stroking your pussy lips reverently as you lay there boneless, legs spread wide. “Think you can take all of this?”

Wait, what?

You push yourself up onto your elbows as you frown at him, glancing down to see Jimin holding the item you’d bought against your lower lips, even slicking the head up with your wetness.

“Jimin, no-“ you reach down to grab it from him. “This isn’t a fucking dildo, for the love of Freya, Goddess Almighty! It’s a fucking fertility candle! We need to burn it while we have sex. And say an incantation to it before and after. You need to cum inside me as many times as you can before the candle runs out. That’s why I got such a long one, I figured Jimothy doesn’t work well under pressure.”

Jimin is speechless for a moment as he watches you push your skirt down and place the dild- dick shaped candle with veins running up the length of it- on the altar that you had set up in your bedroom.

“Wh-wait, when did that get there?” Jimin points an accusing finger at the pink and silver dressed altar, with the picture of the Norse goddess Freya at its very center. “It wasn’t there this morning-“

“What else do you think? I put it there just now,” you say as you set the candle in front of her picture.

Jimin forces himself to stop ogling at how bizarre this entire set up is- a regal looking altar with a ginormous dildo in front of a goddess.

Satisfied with the placing of the candle, you turn to him with a sweet smile. “Thank you for eating me out so well, baby. Are you trying something new? I’ve never seen you so… on edge before. But it’s hot.”

On edge? That’s because he abso-fucking-lutely is, Jimin clenches his fist in an attempt to calm himself down. He hasn’t had a moment to himself in ages because of that darned cat. Even when he locks himself in the study and browses through his favourite porn sites to take a little bit of the pressure off his blue balls, Mr Muffins knows. That eerie, stupid fucking cat just somehow knows. And then the cat will be pawing at his door, scratching the mahogany wood to ribbons, and somehow letting himself in even though Jimin swears he locked the door.

Jimin feels like his house is haunted.

*

Jimin has the perfect plan.

Turns out, your ovulation window doesn’t open today, but tomorrow night instead. Just the thought of having to wait sets his teeth on edge. Not to mention, every time the charm brushes against his inner thighs or his balls, Jimin doubles over in over-stimulation, his dick aching and desperate for some attention.

He’s resorted to taking the rest of the week off work now. There’s no possible way he can walk into the office with a charm around his balls like this.

Spending days alone with Mr Muffin has not softened him up to the intuitive animal. Jimin glares at it with eyes narrowed in derision every time it prowls around the entire apartment, avoiding any interaction with it as far as possible. But then, he thinks of the perfect solution to his problem. All it takes is a trip to the vet.

“Please, Dr Kim, please, my cat is very sick,” he puts on his best imitation of a pet owner worried sick. “Poor little Mr Egg McMuffin hasn’t been able to sleep in the past few weeks. I’ve tried everything, from lavender spray to warm milk, but nothing. You are Mr Muffin’s last hope.”

Dr Kim Taehyung sighs through his nose. It’s been a long day for him.

“Mr Park, I cannot simply just… take the cat away for observation. The vet kennels are full.”

Jimin slumps in his seat.

“However-“

Jimin perks up.

“I can prescribe some sleeping pills for you.” Dr Kim scribbles out an illegible note and hands it to Jimin. “Dissolve this in some warm milk and give it to him. Make sure to follow the recommended ratio, or else your cat will end up knocked out for the rest of the week instead of just one night.”

Jimin clasps the note to his chest, the burnished bright eyes of a desperate man as he thanks the vet enthusiastically.

With the medicine in hand, Jimin laughs all the way home.

“Here Mr Muffin, here kitty kitty,” Jimin calls, a saucer of the finest cream all ready and waiting.

But nothing. The darned hellcat is nowhere to be seen. Jimin calls and calls, but the devil is currently tucked away in his lair somewhere.

Jimin tries desperately to tame the rising frustration in his chest as he sets the saucer down gingerly. God. He never thought he’d resort to this.

He grasps himself firmly through his sweatpants, and groans aloud in relief. This is the first stimulation he’s had in weeks, and it sends blood rushing to warm his cock immediately. The string around the base of his cock tightens, but Jimin is well used to it now, even comes to like it as it restricts his soft, limp cock.

Hmm. Maybe he should be looking into some cock rings the next time he goes on Amazon.

Just as the thought passes, he hears an Earth shatteringly loud wailing meow, and then the devil himself is curling around his ankles. Mr Muffin stands on his hindlegs, sharp claws digging into Jimin’s sweatpants in an effort to get his hands off his dick.

“Mr Muffin, look what I got for you today,” Jimin releases his dick, and it seems to appease Mr Muffin’s enraged meows. He coos in a sickeningly sweet voice, the way he’s seen you do it, as he pushes the saucer of cream toward the cat. “That’s right, it’s a yummy treat for you.”

Mr Muffin approaches the saucer warily, eyes darting between the brimming surface and Jimin’s crouched figure suspiciously. His whiskers twitch as he sniffs the bowl once, then his tongue darts out carefully to taste it. With a lash of his tail against Jimin’s shins- Jimin only just barely holds in a muttered swear word- Mr Muffin crouches by the bowl as he laps up the cream noisily.

Jimin sinks back onto his ass with a quiet sigh of victory. Not long now.

Within moments, Mr Muffin is asleep on the floor, tongue lolling out as he dozes.

Jimin pumps a fist in the air as he shoves himself to his feet, hightailing it to his study and locking the door, double and triple checking it. He pulls up the porn he’s been saving since the dawn of eternity, scrolls through a few of them just to get himself warmed up as his dick hardens in response.

He’s been trying really hard for the past six months not to jerk off. He really has. He’s also been nourishing his body with all the right foods to ensure that his sperm is the strongest it can be, from oily fish like salmon and tuna to leafy green vegetables and citrus fruits. Alcohol and caffeine intake are also minimized, a feat given how much Jimin loves his beer and vodkas, but all for the sake of the baby. Along with increased exercise, he’s never felt better. At the last visit, doctor says his sperm health has improved tremendously, from motility, volume and count.

So just this once can’t hurt right?

He spreads his thighs, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Jimothy’s going to be in a good rough tough of war today.

His cock is twitching against his abdomen, even redder than usual due to the constriction at his base. As Jimin spreads his precum down his length, he groans loudly with the first stroke, thumb brushing against his weeping head.

With his other hand, he clicks play on the video currently loaded and it’s one of his personal favourites. A dark haired woman with the hugest tits he’s ever seen is kneeling, mouth open wide and tongue out for the cock that protrudes out the bottom of the screen. The camera cuts off just at the base of the dick in the video, so if Jimin just puts a little of his imagination into it, it looks like the woman onscreen is sucking his dick.

“Fuck,” he groans as sounds of spit and slick accompany the onscreen couple as the male porn star begins to fuck her face. To simulate this, Jimin speeds up his pace, trying his best not to dislodge the charm too much. He wants to cum, alright, but he also doesn’t want to waste your efforts when you so clearly believe that this will help the quality of his sperm.

The man is starting to thrust into her face now, making her breasts bounce lewdly, and the telltale tingles are starting in his balls and at the base of his spine, sweat gathering on the lines of his flexed abdomen as he pants in desperation.

“Unnhh, shit, I’m so fucking close, w-wanna blow my load so deep,” Jimin is in the throes of delirium, imagining the babymaking sex that’s soon to come, his cock throbbing in his grip as he calls to mind the sweet taste of your pussy.

He’s so close, he can almost taste his orgasm, his fist tightens around himself as he fucks up into the tight suction of it. His release is so deliciously close, he can feel his balls churning as he gets ready to unload all over his abs and chest, and then-

There is a knock on the door, and your voice calls out.

“Jimin baby, are you in there?”

Fuck. When did you get home? Jimin is this close to blowing his load.

He struggles to get his voice under control as he answers back. “Yeah, you’re home early?”

“What are you doing in there?”

“I’m working baby, on a Skype call with Namjoon. He’s on mute now but we’re going over some important stuff.” Jimin glances at the busty blonde in another video currently half naked on his screen, getting her brains fucked out with two cocks inside her. “Also, he’s half naked on screen, so I doubt you want to come in.”

“Are you wearing your FitBit?”

The seemingly random question catches Jimin off guard as he glances down at his wrist. “Yeah, why?”

“Because your step count just surged from 2000 to over 8500. I set up notifications on my phone. Now open the damn door unless you want me to put little Jimothy in a chastity cage.”

Jimin sighs as he drops his dick.

*

You’re still mad at him over Mr Muffin.

The cat has been sleeping for over a day now. And while Jimin was just a little heavy handed with the medicine, he honestly didn’t mean to hurt him. Just put him out of commission for a bit.

After fussing over Mr Muffin for a few hours, you force yourself to calm down and understand Jimin’s point of view. Your poor husband must be so on edge, having to store his sperm for a month and only being allowed to ejaculate when you’re ovulating. It’s no wonder that the blue balls are making him more short tempered than usual. Your sweet natured husband has been putting up with all of your spells and charms and weird hijinks all this while, and you’re surprised that he managed to hold out this long.

You know that tonight is the night that he’s been waiting for. Jimin’s gaze has been positively ravenous the past few days, you can feel the weight of his gaze following you around the apartment, and he refrains from touching you at all. The other night, he insisted on sleeping with a pillow fort in between the both of you, mumbling something about not being able to control Jimothy if you stick your ass in his crotch just one more time.

When you get home from work, you immediately take a test just to confirm and be absolutely sure. The positive result sends your heart into your throat as you clutch the stick in your fist, making your way out of the bathroom and calling Jimin’s name.

The man in question comes out of his study, where he’s been isolating himself for the past day or so, and he meets your gaze with hopeful eyes. Suddenly feeling on edge from the way he tracks your every movement like a predator, you weakly hold up the stick, and no other words are needed.

The Jimin that you see now is not your lovable husband who pours ketchup all over his fries like a barbarian and laughs so hard that he gives himself stomach cramps and needs to be held like a baby in order to calm down. No, the Jimin that you see in front of you is a changed man. His fists are clenched, jaw set firmly so that you can see the way his cheek muscle tenses as his eyes dart in the direction of the bedroom.

This is a Jimin that you’ve never known before.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Swallowing hard, you turn around to obey him, making sure to keep Mr Muffin safely locked up in his cage before proceeding with shaky legs and a palpitating heart. You spare a glance toward the altar in your bedroom, shooting up a quick prayer to Freya to help you survive this even as you light the dick shaped candle with a twitch of your fingers.

“Clothes off. Arms above your head. On your back, legs spread.”

His voice sounds from behind you, and not daring to look back, you push your sweats down past your hips, your underwear along with it as it hits the floor. You can feel his hard gaze eating up every single inch of exposed flesh even as you bring your shirt over your head and toss it aside. Finally turning to face him, you seat yourself on the bed, feeling incredibly exposed as your eyes cast over his clothed figure.

Jimin’s eyes are devoid of his usual warmth that you know and love. Instead, they are roaming over your skin in a brief manner that hardly betrays any emotion at all, as if he’s entirely unimpressed. “Don’t make me wait longer than I already have.”

A thrill sings through your veins as you move backwards, head on your pillow as you spread your legs slowly, a heat upon your cheeks as you can already feel how wet your inner thighs are. Jimin’s eyes linger on the hidden treasure between your thighs for just a tad longer, making you fidget as you wait for his next instructions.

Jimin rummages in his closet for a moment and comes away with a few of his silk ties, and your heart skips a beat, even as you don’t dare move a single muscle. He comes back to the bed and binds both of your hands together tightly, securing the ties around your wrist before he moves down to your spread ankles.

“This’ll help you keep your slutty legs spread, hmmm?” Jimin casts a glance up at you as he binds your ankles to each corner of the bedposts, fingers working swiftly as if he’s done this a million times before. While his face remains entirely expressionless, he sends you quick glances every now and then to check in with you, careful touches around your restraints making sure that they aren’t too tight.

While you and Jimin have experimented with power play once or twice, you’ve never done it to this extent, and Jimin has certainly never tied you up like this. You are completely helpless, vulnerable to his every whim and fancy, and all too ready to be devoured by his lustful little smirk as Jimin caresses the inside of your thighs with teasing dances of his fingers.

“You put me through so much shit in the past month, baby. Did you know that?” Jimin continues to let his fingers trace absent minded patterns on your skin, working his way up to the apex of your thighs. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”

A mix of adrenaline and fear courses through your veins as he hums low in his throat, thumbs spreading your lower lips as he inspects your sex thoroughly. You are enraptured by this new side of him, his eyes are cold as he glances back up at you to check for your reaction, spanking your clit harshly when you remain silent. “Answer me when I ask you a question, slut.”

You moan and jerk in response, fidgeting in your restraints. “N-no, I was just- I didn’t-“

“Save it. I don’t want to hear your pathetic whimpering anymore.” Jimin swipes a finger on your inner thigh to gather your transparent arousal, bringing it to his lips for a brief taste. “Looks like someone’s a desperate little cockslut. So wet for me already, and I haven’t even done a thing.”

Jimin traces his hands up your hips, skimming over your belly to cup your breasts, flicking a nipple idly, expression almost bored as he watches it pebble under his touch. “Look at these. All mine. After tonight, I’ll be watching these tits swell and fill up with milk for the baby I’ll be fucking into you. You’d like that wouldn’t you? I’m going to make your tits dribble with sweet milk for our baby, and I’m going to make you beg for me to suckle every drop.”

A satisfied smile paints upon his lips as he considers the visual, and then he skims a hand down to stroke the small swell of your lower belly. “You’re going to be so round and swollen with my baby, princess. Do you want that?”

You are positively leaking all over the sheets now, feeling a sticky puddle right under your ass as you pant harshly under his touch, sweat beading on your forehead as you arch your hips. “Y-yes, fuck, ple-ase, I want your baby so bad Jimin.”

A satisfied nod as he rewards you with a caress to your cheek. “Listen closely. I won’t be spoiling you with foreplay since you’ve been nothing but a selfish little bitch for the past month. Tonight, orgasms are only for good little girls who can keep my cum inside them without wasting a drop. Lucky for you, you’ll be getting more than one load inside you tonight. What’s your safeword?”

At his prompting, you recall the discussion you last had with him when you began dating. “Mango.”

Jimin pushes himself away from your body only to reach past the waistband of his shorts, untying the small charm that you made him wear under his balls for the past month. With his shorts still on, he moves to the side of the bed to tuck it underneath the mattress like you instructed him to all those weeks ago before returning to his position between your thighs.

Once more, Jimin starts to lower the waistband of his shorts. You involuntarily make a noise in the back of your throat when you realise that he intends to fuck you like this, fully clothed and hiding his beautiful body from your gaze, and Jimin’s eyes harden in a silent reprimand, hands gripping your inner thighs hard enough to bruise.

“What was that, slut?”

You shake your head in response, eyes wide as he teases you by lifting the hem of his shirt and exposing just a hint of his carved hipbones and a glimpse of his rock hard abs.

“I thought so. Don’t make me blindfold you.” Jimin palms himself while directing his gaze straight at your pussy, finally opting to rid himself of his shorts and stroke his cock with a barely restrained groan. “I should fuck that pretty face of yours till you choke, make you cry like the little bitch you are. Make you swallow so much cum that you can’t taste anything else for a week. You think you call the shots in this house? Think again, princess.”

But thankfully Jimin knows the end goal of tonight, and he nudges his head against your lips briefly. You clench involuntarily at the contact, feeling his blunt cock start to press past your entrance with that delicious friction of the first thrust as he starts to breach your walls. With a fluid thrust of his hips, Jimin sinks into your cunt balls deep, his cock gliding past your saturated walls that grip him tight.

A moan escapes your throat as he settles with his hips flush against yours, but Jimin is too preoccupied with the feeling of you around his cock to punish you for it. The aching burn of his girth leaves you giddy and breathless, and normally Jimin would pause to let you adjust to his size, but not today. He positions himself on his knees, spread apart for better leverage, and his hands are gripping your hips with a deathly hold as Jimin begins to fuck your cunt with measured strokes. Every thrust goes as deep as possible, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he plunders your depths with a ferocity never before seen. His jaw is clenched as he focuses on fucking you so good and so hard, cock spreading you apart and making your pussy froth with cream around his base.

You are gasping and moaning under him, but it seems to only spur him on as he shoves forward with his hips, embedding his cock in your pussy till you can feel him right against your cervix.

“Such a pretty cunt, look how creamy you are. So hungry for cock. So desperate to get knocked up with my baby.” Jimin withdraws again, resting the tip of his cock against your lips as he gathers some of the froth at his base and brings it to your lips. “Lick it up, slut.”

Your tongue willingly cleans his fingers of your own arousal, suckling on them as he resumes his fucking, cock pistoning in and out of your drenched pussy. Jimin slides his thumb over your clit in circles, causing you to jerk under him with a whine and a sob, walls clenching down on his cock.

“That’s it, milk me with your pussy, work that cunt for my load. You’re such a fucking cockslut, look at you. Whining and moaning on my cock,” Jimin grunts hard as he grabs you by the hair close to your scalp, tugging harshly. “God, fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so deep and so good. Feel me here?”

Jimin releases his grip on your hair and presses a hand to your lower tummy, places pressure on it hard. “That’s your fertile womb. I’m going to flood it with so much cum you’ll be dripping for days. You’re not leaving this bed till you’re pregnant with my baby.”

Your walls are fluttering around him, and you can feel the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching as Jimin’s hips smash into yours repeatedly, the wet, filthy sounds of your cunt being battered by his cock are all that you hear. But just as you almost reach the precipice, Jimin pulls his thumb away from your clit to grip your hips tight and drive his cock into you with three harsh thrusts before he lets out an earth shattering groan, releasing within your depths.

You can feel every thick spurt of cum as his cockhead kisses your cervix, flooding you with warmth as you lie there at his mercy. His thick cock is throbbing and pulsing, and you can feel him so intimately that it makes you quiver with need to receive everything he has to give you. Jimin’s hips are moving sloppily as jets and jets of cum coat your walls, some of it already leaking out down your ass as he grunts, trying to get everything as deep as possible. By instinct, you start to raise your legs to keep his cum inside, but your restraints prevent you from doing so. Jimin lets out a pleased chuckle at your desperation, soothing you with a kiss to your forehead as he pumps lazily in and out of you, letting the last few spurts leave his cock.

Slowly, Jimin makes sure to keep his cock inside you as he supports himself on his elbows, giving himself time to regain his breath and his sanity as he pants above you. You are still incredibly aroused beneath him, feeling him start to drip in between your thighs even though he hasn’t pulled out yet. It feels as if the weeks of abstinence has paid off with how much he just came inside of you, and even though you haven’t had an orgasm yet, you are warm and full with contentment, happy to feel his cum leak from your pussy as you imagine his sperm racing to your egg.

But Jimin won’t let you get away with things this easily.

“We’re not done yet, just because your pussy is filled doesn’t mean I’m done with you,” Jimin taps your cheek to get your attention. “Keep your hips raised. I don’t want to see you waste any more of my cum. Filthy cum sluts like you should know how to keep a load in your pussy hmm? Or are you purposely letting it leak out because you want me to fill you up again?”

Jimin carefully pulls out of you, his cock soft now as he reaches for a pillow to slide under your hips. With a disappointed tsk of his tongue, he pries apart your labia to look at how your cunt still gapes, wide and open from his brutal fucking, such that he can see all the way into your cum stained walls. With leisurely fingers he scoops up the globs of cum that have made its way onto your inner thighs, pushing it back into your pussy with tender fingertips. Every little drop counts, and Jimin doesn’t want to waste any.

The room already reeks of sweat, sex, and semen, but you know that Jimin is far from done. The doctor had recommended for the two of you to have sex as often as possible within your fertile window, as many as Jimin can manage. Each time keeping your hips raised and preferably inducing an orgasm after to help his sperm travel just the little bit farther.

You whine low in your throat to remind him of this, and Jimin smacks your inner thigh to reprimand you, but soothes it with a kiss against your cum drenched lower lips.

“You’re such a little brat aren’t you?” He spreads your lips with both hands to expose your engorged clit. “But you’re being so good for me. Keeping my cum inside like a good little girl. And good little girls get to cum.”

Then he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks, causing your back to arch off the bed with a sob, legs thrashing in your restraints as the white hot tension in your lower belly roars to life once more, threatening to engulf you. Jimin attacks you with relentless sucks, switching to laving your slit with flat licks as he drives to toward the edge, coaxing you toward your orgasm with his tongue. All the built up pressure in your core culminates into a blinding euphoria that sends you over the edge as you feel the white hot pin pricks of pleasure assault every single nerve.

*

You must have passed out, because the next time you come to, Jimin is undoing your ankle restraints, kissing the inside of each ankle he does so. He massages it gently for a few moments before he sits back in between your thighs, smiling as you blink at him a few times.

“Welcome back, baby, ready for your next load?”

Your eyes flicker to the candle on the altar. It’s halfway burned through.

This time, he is shirtless, allowing you to appraise every inch of his sculpted body as he strokes his cock leisurely, already hard and dripping with precum for you. With your legs free now, Jimin takes each of them in his grasp behind the knee, pressing them into your chest and folding you in half.

Your mind is foggy, you have no idea how much time has passed since the last time he was inside you. But before you can linger any more on such useless thoughts, Jimin’s cock is pressing inside you once more, pushing past your puffy lips and bottoming out at your cervix again. At this angle, he can go much deeper inside you, his cock already pressing at your womb as he folds you in half, his added weight on the back of your thighs driving his cock into your pussy with every thrust.

You can already feel how sore your muscles are going to be, but Jimin gives you no time to think about this as he fucks into you with the sheer power of his thighs, driving his cock into you repeatedly with the single intention of filling your pussy again.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” Jimin demands, punctuating his question with a harsh thrust.

“F-fuck, so guh-good, you’re so good,” you respond immediately, desperate to please him.

Every drag of his cock against your walls feels like ultimate bliss. Jimin pounds his cock into you, and the squelch of your drenched pussy is even more pronounced now than it was before. Every slap of his balls against you is only magnified by how wet you are. An unholy mixture of his cum and yours has soaked the bedspread under you once more. Jimin’s tireless thrusting has you whining and moaning under him, begging for him to fill you up till you’re overflowing.

“What do you want? Let me hear you beg,” Jimin’s hands brush against the base of your throat.

“W-want your baby,” you gasp, feeling his cock twitch. “Please, pl-ee-ase, want you to fill me up with your cum again.”

“What are you?” Jimin thrusts hard to watch your breasts bounce in perfect little circles, slapping the soft flesh hard and watching it turn red. When you take a beat too long to respond, he slaps your tits again. “Say it!”

“A cumslut! I’m a cu-um slut, alw-waays hungry for cock.”

Satisfied, Jimin pumps his hips into you, feeling the way your pussy swallows him with every thrust. “That’s right. You’re so cum hungry that you need more than just one load inside this pussy. You’re such a desperate little cumslut. Desperate to carry my baby.”

Pressing your knees against your chest, Jimin devotes the rest of his energy into driving his cock into your pussy, feeling his balls throb as he lets loose blasts of cum inside you. His second load proves to be as full as the first, his unadulterated groans of ecstasy escaping from his pillowy lips as he moans against your neck, hips thrusting erratically as he rides out his orgasm for the second time that night. Your pussy is quivering around his steely length pistoning in and out of you, every thrust designed to propel his potent sperm along your walls and deeper inside you.

“Take it all,” Jimin demands as he continues to fuck his cum into your pussy. “Don’t waste a drop.”

Your lower abdomen feels tight. Jimin’s cock remains rock hard inside you, plugging your cunt up so well that not a single drop escapes. Unlike last time where he began to soften almost immediately after his orgasm, Jimin shows no signs of losing his erection. The pressure in your lower abdomen is building up, and there’s so much cum inside you that you can feel it swirling around in your pussy, forming a little bulge on your belly as Jimin helps you straighten your legs, looking a little surprised that he’s still hard.

“J-Jimin, why-“

“Don’t ask me, I have no fucking idea,” he glances down at his length, covered with his own cum as he pulls out a little. “It must be that stupid charm you made me wear.”

For a moment, a glimpse of the Jimin you’re familiar with shines through, and you grin in spite of yourself. “See, it worked, didn’t it? You came so fucking much, look at this! If I’m not pregnant after this, Mr Muffin’s going into the cauldron.”

Jimin can’t help but chuckle in response, breaking out of character as he does so. But not a moment later, he snaps back into his role, expression darkening as he thrusts his hips once to remind you who’s really in charge.

“Looks like you got what you wanted hmm? Can you go another round?” Jimin raises your legs and places your feet against his chest. “Too bad, no one asked you. Just lie there and take it.”

The one eighty-degree change in his demeanour almost gives you whiplash. Your legs are sore, hips aching and muscles screaming for relief as his hips crash into yours again. Your pussy tightens around him in response, and you ache to have your hands all over him, cradle him close to you as he fucks you into oblivion. But you’ll have to do with this for now. You can feel the knot in your belly tightening again, so close to your orgasm as you pant and moan, writhing under him from sheer oversensitivity.

“P-please, I can’t, no more.”

“Just one more time, baby, one more,” Jimin coaxes you with his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles to push you toward the edge even as he feels his balls churn again. He reaches up to undo the tie that is restraining your hands with simple motion, and you bring your arms around him immediately, clutching on to him for dear life as he jackhammers his cock into your pussy. “Cup my balls, princess. Feel how much cum I have for you. Feel me fuck a baby into you.”

Amidst your sobs, you manage to do as he says, hands slipping in between your sweaty bodies to cradle his balls in your palm, rolling them in your touch as Jimin groans.

“Fuck, yes, I’m coming, just like that,” Jimin grunts against your skin as he gives the final few thrusts. “Come with me baby. You can do it, come for me, that’s it.”

His fingers are drawing figure eights on your clit, and that’s all it takes for you to clench hard around him, thighs trembling as you sob his name. Jimin gives you his final load with a hard thrust and remains there, feeling as your womb soaks up the contents of his balls for the third time that night. Amidst the waves of ecstasy and the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, you are so overwhelmed with hypersensitivity that you nearly black out again, and it takes Jimin’s soft murmurs of your name to bring you back.

He lets you rest for a while to regain your senses as he pushes himself off the bed. All traces of his dominant persona are gone now as he brushes your matted hair back from your forehead, kissing your cheek reverently as he slips his arms beneath you to move you to a dry spot on the mattress. Even though he must be tired as well, he doesn’t rest till you’re comfortably nestled with your head against a pillow and your hips propped up with two more pillows underneath your butt to give his sperm the best chance of making it. Jimin can’t resist as he paws at your thigh to glimpse at the thick white cum just peeking out from between your pussy lips.

“Come here,” you stretch out your arms and demand for him to come and cuddle. “Jimin, I’m fine, stop fussing. Want you.”

He relents with a soft smile. “God, I sure hope that worked.”

“I think I might die if it didn’t,” you mumble against his chest. “Imagine having to go through that again next month. I think I’ll just settle with raising Mr Muffin.”

“You’re not the one who has to wear a fucking charm around their balls,” Jimin mutters in spite, but you shut him up with a brush of your teeth against his nipple. “Jimothy suffered so much.”

“Not as much as I’ll make him suffer in the next nine months,” you mumble sleepily. “I hope he’s up to dealing with pregnancy hormones.”

Jimin only grins in anticipation. “Oh, he’s up, alright. I’ll make sure he rises to the occasion.”

You’re content to drift slowly into sleep with Jimin’s arms around you, but then there is a scratching noise at the door, and Jimin stirs, craning his neck.

“What’s that sound?”

“Hmm?” You follow his gaze with half lidded eyes. “It’s probably Mr Muffin. He wants his breakfast, can you go feed him for me? I need to elevate my legs for another 15 minutes at least.”

Jimin only sighs in exasperation. “God fucking damn it, Mr Muffin.”

Freya’s invocation and ritual taken from here

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

can you write some Almalexia and Nerevar being pals?

Almalexia was expertly concealed in a bush of Golden Kanet when she happened to, intriguingly, see her husband wander by. What was intriguing about it wasn’t that he wandered by– though Nerevar didn’t have much of an interest in the Mournhold gardens, he was sometimes inclined to stroll through them. No, what was intriguing about this was that he was looking about himself anxiously, as if waiting for someone else to appear, someone he wasn’t meant to be seeing. So surreptitious about this mysterious rendezvous did he seem that Almalexia, merciful as always, refrained from making herself known to him, and simply focused on her task of weeding her garden.

‘Mercifully’. Truth is, she was more than curious to see who it was her husband was meeting in such nervous secrecy, and she had never been above some old-fashioned spying.  

But the turns of fate were cruel that day, and as the minutes rolled past, nobody appeared to set Nerevar’s apparent fears at ease. Almalexia glanced up from her gardening now and then to see him still pacing beneath a Dorlom-tree in the shade of the towering palace walls, his hands buried in the cloak he’d wrapped around himself, his head swivelling this way and that. Time went on and whoever he had planned to meet evidently failed to appear. Their marriage had trapped them in a woeful intimacy, and so Almalexia knew him well enough to read the emotion in his posture even from a distance: anxiousness soon turned to irritation, his pacing footfalls growing heavy and the flowers near his feet falling to his wrath. But then, when his fury failed to conjure his would-be suitor, his posture turned to slouching despondency. Almalexia, halfway through wrenching a handful of Nirthfly stalks out of her Timsa-Come-By beds, looked up briefly from her work just in time to watch him fall dramatically against the side of the tree. She could just imagine the melodramatic sigh that accompanied that gesture.

It was too much for her sympathetic heart to bear. Dropping her trowel in the dirt, she stood, raised an arm into the air, and shouted: “Husband!”

Nerevar truly must not have seen her, for at the call he actually jumped into the air in alarm. “Almalexia?” he shouted back at her. “Were you spying on me?”

He was already walking over to her, crossing the broad grassy flat that separated the palace from the wide bands of flowers and trees that lined the outer wall. He said something else, or his mouth was moving as such, but the words were plucked away by the same crisp spring breeze that currently threatened to topple the bone-white mohawk standing tall on his head. Almalexia placed both hands on her hips, saying nothing, until he had come up to her and stood on the other side of the Kanet bush that had concealed her just before.

“What were you doing?” Almalexia asked.

“Nothing,” replied Nerevar. “Nothing at all. Were you here this whole time? Wait, were you hiding in the bushes?”

“I was weeding, not hiding.”

“But you were crouching– just down there? Really, Almalexia? That’s so childish.”

“Where, husband, do you think weeds grow from? The sky? Of course I was on the ground! My actions were innocent and explainable,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “Unlike some individuals who have been prowling my gardens of late.”

“So you were spying!”

“What were you doing, Nerevar?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Really.”

“Really! I was enjoying the spring breeze and new sunlight, that’s all.” But he wouldn’t look her in the face as he said this, and she caught his eyes once again scan the approach.

Almalexia frowned. “Were you waiting for someone?”

“No!” Nerevar answered too quickly. “No, of course I wasn’t.” To her surprise, then, his voice took on a hint of bitterness. “And even if I was waiting for someone, what would it matter? It would be half an hour since our agreed meeting-time, by now, so clearly they don’t want anything to do with me. There can be nothing duplicitous going on here, because my co-conspirator obviously does not care about me one whit, and has seen it fit to reject me, without even the bravery to say it to my face! So don’t fetching worry about any plots, Almalexia, because clearly it is impossible that anyone could ever desire to be– plot– with me, and I’m a fool for thinking otherwise!”

He had been waiting for a lover, Almalexia realised. And not only had he been waiting for a lover, but he’d been stood up.

Frustrated, Nerevar tugged at a dislodged lock of his own hair. “Forget it,” he grunted, “Vivec is right, I’m a high-minded idiot. Forget it. I–”

“Nerevar,” Almalexia interrupted him, speaking gently. “This is all hypothetical, yes?”

He glanced at her. “Yes, of course.”

“And you were truly doing nothing out here? Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all, and nothing planned.”

“Wonderful!” She knelt, collected the trowel from beside her feet, and then offered it out to him. “Help me in my garden.”

He stared at the trowel, incredulously.

“I mean,” Almalexia said after a moment, “I would appreciate the help, Nerevar, if you have the time to spare.”

“I’m not much of a gardener, I’ll probably kill everything.”

“No you wont. It’s easy.” She shook the trowel at him. “Please?”

With a heavy sigh, Nerevar accepted the trowel. and stepped… through the Kanet bush. So he hadn’t been lying about his propensity for plant murder. “You are my Queen, and your bidding is my act.”

Biting back a cutting remark about the trampled bush– Nerevar was a very large man, and the Kanet didn’t stand a chance– Almalexia sunk to her knees by the patch of Timsa-Come-By she’d been weeding. It was a cool day, the dark soil spongy and damp beneath her knees, and though it was nearing noon everything remained jewelled with little drops of moisture that made the flowers glisten and the Nirthfly stalks hang their heavy heads. Soon Nerevar stooped down to the ground next to her, his cloak having been cast to the side, revealing some very nice attire beneath. Attire he seemed to have no issue getting dirt on, now that whoever they were meant to impress had scorned him.

“These are Nirthfly stalks,” Almalexia explained, pointing to the spindly yellow plants that shot up between the Timsa-Come-By. “Grab them by the base and pull. Some of them have deep roots, so use the trowel to dig them out if they stick.”

Nerevar obeyed her without question– a delightful rarity for the stubborn man– and started plucking out the weeds as instructed. He was actually quite deft, Almalexia noticed, and after observing the first few to make sure he didn’t mishandle her flowers she felt that she could return to her own work in relative safety. Beside weeding the Timsa-Come-By beds, the Kanet needed to be trimmed back so that those beds would actually be visible (although Nerevar’s 'shortcut’ had certainly knocked it down a peg). Leaving her husband to tackle the Nirthfly, Almalexia set herself to the task of snipping errant Kanet twigs with a pair of shears.

“So,” Nerevar said after a while, “Where did a Queen learn to garden?”

“Ald Sotha, in fact.” With a soft snip of shears a bunch of golden flowers fell to the ground. “Sotha Sil’s mother taught me.”

“As… part of your lessons? You studied magic there, didn’t you?”

“I did study magic there, but gardening wasn’t among my lessons. She…” Almalexia paused, leaning forwards into the bush to try and find the base of a branch, “… She claimed it was calming, that it would help soothe me. I was prone to fits of soul-sickness even as a child. She found me miserable over something silly and–”

There was a sharp rip of roots violently leaving soil, and a soft hiss, “Ah, crap.” Almalexia jerked out of the bush and saw Nerevar holding a whole Timsa-Come-By plant in the air.

“Forgive me,” Nerevar said, “There was a Nirthfly stalk in it, but their roots must have–”

“It’s fine,” Almalexia interrupted him quickly, moving to his side. “It’s okay, Nerevar, don’t worry.”

“I killed it! How is that okay?”

“It’s not dead, look, the roots are intact.” She wrapped an arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder, and with her other hand gently eased the dislodged plant from his. “We’ll just put it back in the ground.”

“I told you I’d kill it,” Nerevar murmured, sullen.

“Hush. It’s one plant, Nerevar, and it’s not dead.”

“I should have foreseen this. I destroy everything that’s good!”

“It’s not destroyed, and you’re acting like a child! Be calm.”

Nerevar didn’t reply to that, but nor did he push her away, so Almalexia pressed close to him and rested the Timsa-Come-By on her lap. There was, indeed, a Nirthfly stalk tangled into its root-mass; she pinched off the stem and tossed it aside.

“At least I killed the ones I was meant to,” Nerevar said after a moment, trying to sound light-hearted.

“Yes, you’ve done well! Will you dig a hole for this one?”

Almalexia could practically feel his doubt, but nonetheless he leaned forwards and scooped out a hole in the ruined patch of dirt where the Timsa plant had been. Once he did Almalexia leaned in and returned it to the earth, carefully packing in soil around it so that it would stand.

“There,” said Almalexia, “All better.”

“It’s still going to die,” Nerevar said skeptically.

“No, it won’t. It will live, because all plants want to live.”

Almalexia sat back, then, and gestured at the garden around them. “Why do you think we have to weed gardens, husband? Why don’t the weeds know better than to grow amongst flowers?”

Nerevar stared at her. “Because they have no brains, I suppose.”

“That’s– well, no, they don’t, no.” She laughed. “That’s not my point, however. The weeds are like all plants. They want to live, they desire growth, and no matter where they land they will strive towards the light. A weed can’t simply choose not to grow. Even the most broken and torn plant will still struggle to live on.”

Nerevar was still staring at her; suddenly she felt embarrassed. “At least,” she continued, returning quickly to her pruning. “That’s what Alma Sotha told me. It’s just what I think about when gardening. Even the most broken plant in the darkest place will reach for the light. It’s… comforting, I suppose, to think about that.”

A long period of silence, and then she heard Nerevar laughing.

Her face flushed red. “What, husband! Don’t laugh at me, I’m being sincere.”

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s just–” Nerevar’s voice was clear and rich with amusement, “Sotha Sil said you try to give a moral lesson to every story you tell. And you’re giving a moral lesson to gardening. You’re a creature of habit, Almalexia!”

“He said that?”

“He also said you hate to be laughed at.”

“Well, he’s right! I have shears, husband. I will use them.”

“I don’t doubt that,” She heard a soft rip as Nerevar returned to his weeding. “Alma Sotha must have been very wise.”

“Yes, and kind. I said I was upset about something silly when she taught me to garden? Someone I loved was spending time with someone else, that’s what I was upset about. I was miserable because I felt rejected.” She paused. “Nerevar, I’m sorry that your friend didn’t come to meet you.”

“I told you I wasn’t–” he sighed. “… It’s fine. I wasn’t that interested in him regardless. The only injury here is to my pride.”

“So you were going to have an affair!”

“What? No! I mean– damn it, I thought we were having a moment here!”

This made Almalexia laugh again. “I’m kidding. I don’t care, Nerevar, you can have your affairs.”

“Well, it’s not exactly comfortable for me, that you know. You love morals in your stories, and what is the moral to the story of your husband taking lovers behind your back?”

A little snip of shears, and one of the trampled Kanet branches tumbled to the ground. “I don’t know,” Almalexia confessed. “Maybe there’s no moral to that story. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a story at all, and it’s best left unspoken.”

“Then let’s not speak of it.”

So they continued their gardening, enjoying the spring day, and didn’t mention the topic again.

[universal-shenanigans]

Possible Problems

     The show was coming to a close, but Alexa and the band were on break before the finale. Don V slipped backstage and walked up to Alex and Andrew. “Hey you two. Look, I know you despise me, and you have every right to, but I need you to hear me out for second.” They looked at each other, then back to V. They didn’t speak, but they did raise a brow at him. It was strange, but he took that as a way of them letting him know they were listening. 

     “Alright. Don’t get mad, because you really can’t, but I did a background check on all of you. Mainly you two, Alexa, and Robin.”

     Alex almost lunged at him, but he quickly moved to the side before she did anything. “I’m sorry, but it’s part of my job! I did this before hiring you. Did you think I was just going to hire you without knowing a little information? Especially since two of you are the daughters of mob bosses?” She was genuinely going to try and argue with him, but she knew she couldn’t. Everything he did was in valid reason. Hell Robin did the same thing, and any other employer would do the same just in case anyone committed a crime or something. She huffed and motioned him to go on.

     “Now, I didn’t tell you that I had refused to talk about either of your past dealing with your families, and that’s because I thought it was better to just not speak of it. But, it seems that there might be problem.” He motioned them to follow. They slipped onto the main floor from the side of the stage. V had made sure that they were in a large crowd of people, and that the suspicious man was in their line of sight. His voice was low, “Him. Right over there.”

     They looked over. Alex could feel her heart drop at the sight of him. His slicked back hair, the devilish soul patch, and the dead look in his eyes. Alex quickly grabbed their arms and pulled them back to the stage. She made sure they were hidden behind the curtain before sitting on one of the instrument cases and running her fingers through her hair. “God damn it...of all the people to be here, it had to be fucking him...”

     Andrew was thoroughly confused by their distress over this one man. “Who is he? I mean, I know he’s a mob boss, but what does he have to do with you and Alexa?”

     She sighed, “Arthur. Him and his family don’t really have any beef with me, but since Alexa told us about him, and confided in my family about him, he’s on our radar. Just in case he tries anything since we know Alexa and her family.”

     Andrew turned to Don V, “Alright, so he’s obviously bad news. I only know so much about him because Alexa only wanted to tell me so much. What do you want us to do?”

     “Hell I know I don’t like ya boss, but I will gladly have him removed for ya.” Alex chuckled. V shook his head, “I appreciate that, but he hasn’t actively tried anything, so for right now all we can do is keep an eye on him at all times. I looked into him and his family, and truthfully, if I was dead, he would be known as the worst boss there is.” 

     “Well that’s one thing we can agree on. He’s getting pretty damn close to being as bad as you as it is.” She took a quick glance at her watch and let out a heavy sigh. “We’re about to go on for the last song. What about Alexa? Does she know about this?”

     “No. I’m going to tell her right after the song. Since you two will be here a little bit after she leaves, I will have some people escort her home. Just in case.” She nodded, and V left them to get ready. As he walked to the bar, he kept a close eye on Arthur. He still wasn’t showing any signs that he was going to hurt anyone, but one could never be too sure.

     The lights began to dim, and the audience grew quiet once they heard the music start. Don V brought his attention to the stage as well, but still watched Arthur occasionally. He noticed that his expression changed when the music started, and was staring daggers at Andrew and Alex. That alone was concerning.

     Alexa had stepped onto the stage and began singing. The usual hooting and hollering erupted at the sight of her outfit. It resembled a peacock, only without the magnificent tail. As her arms rose and fell with such grace, attached to her gloves and dress were peacock feathers. They glistened in the light, along with the rest of the dress, and showed off the many sparkles that laid upon the dress. As spectacular and...distracting Alexa was, V still kept his attention on her alluring tones, and Arthur’s constant devilish stare. The performance was being well received, and it was getting better by the minute. Alex and Andrew were enjoying the performance, but they couldn’t help but have the occasional stare down with Arthur since he started it first.

     They were nearing the end of the song, so it was time to go out with a bang. Alexa grabbed the bottom of her dress, and ripped it away to reveal a shorter dress, and the missing tail had made its appearance. The audience’s applause and shouting grew dramatically. She swayed with the beat of the music, which had most of the men under a trance. Even Arthur caught himself staring with extreme interest, and almost lustful eyes. Don V had also caught himself, but kept his focus on Arthur.

     The song had ended and the band had dispersed to clear out their setup. V was instantly on the move to find Alexa. He checked her dressing room, but she wasn’t there. How the hell does someone get changed that fast? He looked around and found Robin. He quickly walked up to him, “Robin, have you seen Alexa? I need to speak with her.”

     “I think she just left not even two minutes ago. Why?”

     Shit. He didn’t respond, and peeked out from behind the curtains. Arthur was gone. Quickly after he noticed his absence, he could hear gunshots and screaming from outside of the backstage door. Robin had heard it too. They looked over and saw Alex and Andrew running towards the door. They quickly followed behind them, V loading his own gun just in case anything else were to happen.

[aion-rsa]

Stewart Copeland on How The Police Found Synchronicity Under the Volcano

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Gracie Otto’s documentary Under the Volcano tells the story of a rock star paradise which became a modern Atlantis. Air Studios Montserrat, the recording studio built by The Beatles’ producer George Martin in 1979, captured the truest sounds of the biggest musical acts of the 1980s before it succumbed to the island’s natural disasters. Custom-built in the shadow of the active Soufrière Hills volcano, AIR generated its own heat. Songs recorded at the studio burned up the charts, and reinvigorated burnt out artists.

Paul McCartney retreated to the remote musical getaway shortly after receiving the devastating news about the murder of John Lennon. Paul recorded Tug of War, one of his best post-Beatle works there, as well as Pipes of Peace. He flew in Stevie Wonder, who jammed at a local club until the early hours, for harmonic collaboration. The Rolling Stones reunited to record Steel Wheels, bringing Keith Richards together with Mick Jagger for the first time since their respective solo recordings. The Police took a different direction.

Formed in London in 1977, The Police rode the punk wave to international fame and the pressures of delivering on their musical promise. With Sting on lead vocals and bass guitar, Andy Summers on guitar, and Stewart Copeland on drums, this was not a three-chord, minimalist-mode trio. Merging rock changes, reggae-downbeats, and jazz-chord augmentations, they needed space to expand their reach.

To record Ghost in the Machine, they also wanted to be out of reach of record company suits. They went to Montserrat for the isolation, not only from the pop world, but for each individual track recorded. The studio afforded amazing separation. The band didn’t even have to be in the same room while recording at the same time. Stewart wound up playing drums in a dining room.

The Police was Copeland’s band, Sting was just in it. Much like the era’s tabloids would’ve had us believe it was Sting’s world and we just lived here. Stewart founded the band, wrote its manifesto, and is still deranging its sonic possibilities. He spoke with Den of Geek about the documentary Under the Volcano, and how The Police lost and found Synchronicity at George Martin’s AIR Studios Montserrat,

Den of Geek: I was just talking to a drummer friend who left a band we were in to play in a Police cover band. He wanted me to ask about how you approach the drums.

Stewart Copeland: Usually from behind, which sounds really weird, actually. Let me rephrase that.

Did George Martin ever actually say anything about Andy dancing on the soundboard?

Not that I ever heard. In fact, I did a concert with him many years later and it didn’t come up. In fact, I did a television interview with him, a documentary about music that he was making and it didn’t come up. By the way, no damage was done. Those things are built to withstand heavy metal bands. And Andy’s only little. He had very sure footing. Didn’t break anything. And by the way, I’ve seen that console, that exact same console. I’ve seen it at the A&M #1 studio in Los Angeles. I’ve seen it in several other studios that claim that “that is the Neve [Electronics, which made the mixing console] upon which Andy danced.”

I also watched Jools Holland’s short film on the Police at Montserrat film from ’81. I wanted to know about “underwater golfing” and all the other non-musical pastimes that were available.

Sting and Andy probably went underwater golfing a lot, but they never invited me, damn it.

Was Montserrat really the ultimate in rockstar privilege?

Yes, you could say that. Absolutely. There were a lot of rock and roll diversions that are available in Cleveland that are not available on the island. But as far as the paradisiacal environment, absolutely; and being waited on hand and foot. Great food, great situation. I think in the documentary, they mentioned how some bands kind of just hit the swimming pool deck chairs and never woke up and were half asleep. We weren’t because we tormented each other so fiercely that we were fully awake.

I know that you sent Andy Summers to ask George Martin about producing, but did he ever pop in while you were in the studio?

No. He popped over once or twice for dinner, studiously avoiding any moments that we might be working so that he wouldn’t be roped in.

I guess maybe he learned a thing or two in producing all the music that he produced. And one of the things he learned is to not get between rabid dogs who are trying to tear each other’s throats out.

Would Synchronicity have sounded any different if you weren’t at odds with each other at the time?

It’s hard to say. If we had arrived at our decision points or the forks in the road, should we do this or should we do that? You know, saxophone solo or guitar solo? Punk version or reggae version? Other stuff, you know. If we had approached these debates more congenially, would we have arrived at a different result? Probably not. And I guess we’re all happy at the end of the day. The experience of making those records was very rigorous, but at the end of the day, we all appreciate the result.

You worked with George Martin on the ’99 Hollywood Bowl Orchestra Beatles show. What was he like to work with?

Excellent. It mainly was working with his son [Giles Martin], his consiglieri, who’s also interviewed in the documentary. But working with him, he’s just a profoundly musical man. Music is what he knows, does, and he makes it very clear what’s needed, what everybody should do.

It was a strange thing. He rehearsed for three days for that show and the first day the word went out and I was the only person who showed up, me and my bass player buddy, Armand [Sabal-Lecco]. So, we learned the material. By the third day, everybody had showed up. Every guitarist in town, everybody, but I was already planted on the drums so everyone else can piss off.

But on guitar, all these session guys had every- who doesn’t know exactly the patch and the fingering of every single Beatles lick? And it was kind of interesting to hear everybody completely nail it in their different kinds of ways. And also on the drums, I was never that big a Beatles fan, but when I sort of made my own tape of the proposed songs. He sent a set list and I started playing [Sings opening of “I Want To Hold Your Hand”].

I mean, I knew it. My hands knew it. My body knew the song without my brain ever thinking about how the song goes. You just know when the chorus is coming. Yep, this is the chorus. [Sings]. But you know, it’s musical muscle memory, and don’t even get me started on the connection between memory and music.

I recently did a piece on the Concert for Bangladesh and I watched Ringo and Jim Keltner double up and play in unison. I watched the video of you and Ginger Baker playing off each other. Have you ever played in unison with another drummer and who would you like to do that with?

It’s a very strange exercise. Non-drummers seem to think it’s a good idea, and I won’t mention any names, I don’t get it. Guitarists hate to have another guitarist plugged in, God damn it, you know.

Drummers love other percussion. Bongos, shakers, tambourines, you name it, bring it on. Let’s have everybody smacking something. But two drum sets? That don’t make it sound fatter. They don’t really complement each other. My preference would be a drummer, but not in a drum set, doing something else. Like the contrast that fulfills a different function. I don’t really get the two-drummer thing.

Do you still consciously count when you’re drumming?

Yes. When learning something, I count it out, figure out what it is, but then once I’ve learned it, I don’t count it anymore. I just know it. But yes, sometimes when things are tricky and you actually need to hit a certain hit because that’s what everything else is doing. Yes. It helps to count it out. “Ah, that’s where it is. It’s the end of three,” you know? And then once you’ve got that, you don’t need to refer to the numbers anymore. That’s just to find it.

I subscribe to you on YouTube, and just this morning got an email blast about Police Deranged for Orchestra.

That is going to be a blast. That is going to be the most fun show ever. I’ve got Armand Sabal-Lecco on bass, Rusty Anderson on guitar. His day job is playing with Paul McCartney as it happens. He’s been doing that for 20 years or so. Armand from Cameroon, the Prince of Cameroon is a monster.

Moving up the hierarchy, the three singers, they’ve got three soul sisters on the mic singing the songs, but behind us is the mighty San Diego Symphony in San Diego. And when we get to Cleveland, it’s a mighty Cleveland Orchestra.

And then we’re playing in Atlanta, Buffalo, Nashville, L.A., and it’s really, it’s pretty exciting. I spent a lot of time creating the orchestral arrangements or derangements and some of the songs are quite faithful with the form, but others, I deranged.

There are two things. Why orchestra? I’m the drummer in a rock band? What am I doing in the orchestra? That’s a long story. With 20 years as the film composer, I had a forced education in orchestration. But why deranged is because back in the day I had a Super 8 camera, a film camera, and I shot all the stuff, the whole rise, and then put it in shoe boxes and forgot about it until they invented computers and hard drives and Final Cut Pro.

And I had a moment, I was busy making little movies of my children and I thought, “Wait a minute. I’ve got boxes and boxes of really cool stuff of the rollercoaster ride, the rocket ship of The Police.”

So, I dug it all out, 52 hours, and made a movie. And it was kind of the home movie from hell. But somebody persuaded me to send it to the Sundance and the Sundance was, “Whoa, bring it on over.” And they invited me to participate in the festival. Oh, darn. I had to finish it and make it.

It ends up I sold it to Showtime and it became a feature film for which I needed music, preferably Police music. However, what I learned in film in my 20 years before the masters, the hired gun, is that music must serve the picture. And if the picture takes a left, so must the music.

However, those original Police recordings didn’t take a left. They carried right on because they had some other agenda, mainly being a song. So, I had to cut the stuff up and I had to go back into the masters. But once the scalpel was out, this is fun. I got all the masters of those recordings, as well as live recordings. I found long lost guitar solos, other lyrics.

And I found that Sting’s songwriting was quite modular, so I could take the lyrics of this song, put them on the riff of that song. And I went a little batshit crazy on the whole enterprise and kind of overdid it. And when my colleagues heard, “What is Stewart doing? He’s over there taking our master tapes and cutting entirely new music?”

“Calm down guys. It’s just for the movie.” And so, they calmed down and I think they actually kind of appreciated the result at the end of the day, as long as I’m not trying to make a record and rewrite Police history. But now I am rewriting Police history. By taking those derangements, those weird arrangements where I found all these different melodies and guitar lines and put them in the orchestra, that’s what we’re doing.

About half the material is the original song, and I did make the orchestra do very cool stuff with it. But the other half are these different versions of songs, different melodies and so on. With the three women singing, I get to get all of the Sting harmonies that he did in the studio, as well as the improvisations he did on stage, and the same with Andy.

This exercise has really reminded me, in fact, even more than reminded me: it’s really woken me up to the genius of both of those two guys, the stuff they came up with. I was busy banging shit. I hardly even noticed what Andy was doing, but now I’m deep into what Andy was doing with a much higher degree of appreciation.

As you’re developing all of this for orchestration and ripping it apart, and also with the benefit of knowing how each of you developed post-Police, where do you think the band might’ve gone musically as a continuing unit?

Just the other day, pursuant to flogging the Police Deranged orchestra shows, and I’m sort of looking for images to use for posters, I came across the orchestral performance that I did in Germany, where I’m actually on the podium conducting. We did do “The Equalizer” theme and I’m conducting with a drumstick. The orchestra are all totally, you can see in the picture, they’re all leaning forward. They’re really into it, it’s a really intense thing. And I’m up there waving my stick and it’s this big ass orchestra.

I sent it to Sting a couple of days ago. And I said, “This is how we should have run The Police.” And he wrote back and he said, “So I’m second fiddle?” To which I responded, “Stingo, you will always be first fiddle.”

Also, knowing all this stuff from the inside out with the notation and all that, how do you think The Police would go forward now as a creative unit moving into new territory?

Not so much because we know what we’re doing. And my humble estimation is we got two more albums out of Sting than we deserved. So, he actually was the reason I was overcome by homicidal rage and I felt the urgent necessity of throttling him was because he would come over and say, “Hey, do this or that with the drums.” “Fuck off.” You know?

What made it so urgent was that he wasn’t wrong. He sort of does actually know how to arrange a song and arrange the band and his ideas are pretty good. That doesn’t mean I listened because I was a young prick myself and I had my own ideas, which would prevail. But he’s really good at that stuff.

We, today, if we tried to recreate that, are too independently minded and we have continued to grow in the 30 years since our last collaboration and in a different direction. And at this point in our lives, music has a different function for us. For me, it’s this. The reason I make music is for these reasons, and this is what I like to achieve with music. And for others, they have a completely different agenda of what music is for and what it’s supposed to do and how it’s supposed to be made.

It requires more patience. I’m actually more patient. I would say that for me, there is not one musical truth, because I got beat up. For 20 years, I was told exactly what emotion is required. And I had to learn to create exactly that for my boss, the director who is actually the artist. I’m just a craftsman.

So, I learned to be very malleable but also didn’t really understand how to work different emotions very specifically. Other members of the band who have never suffered under the lash of cruel employment are unrestrained, and have a strange idea that there is only one musical truth and no experience in life has ever shaken that core belief. Which means that when I’ve got to deal with that mindset, it’s unrewarding.

And by the way, I say this with love and admiration in my heart, this is not a gripe, believe me. I’m just explaining why we enjoy each other’s company over dinner and really have a deep abiding admiration and love. But just we get into the studio together and we’re not copacetic.

Going on stage, by the way, playing those songs. That’s a different thing. That’s really exciting because of the emotional charge that it has on an 80,000 people stadium, well, that’s exciting. For the audience, that’s exciting. Never mind my ideas about what music is for. Who cares? Look at that audience going like that. That’s why I’m here on the planet.

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Under The Volcano is available On Demand and Digital now.

The post Stewart Copeland on How The Police Found Synchronicity Under the Volcano appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[the-last-magpie]

“Lincopia, you’ve got mail” A Ghost Fanfiction

So: this is a very light kind of fanfiction. It is based on the daily life of the members of the church (ghouls, sisters, brothers, papas, clergy), and it is set at the beginning of era III (yeah I know, sounds nostalgic but I had a lot of this stuff on my mind for months). This is meant to be humorous (with some romance in the future).

Why “You’ve got mail”? 

Because this is a fic about the members of the church talking to each other about their sheningans and daily life through messages, WhatsApp or something. There are also some pieces of actual writing here and there, but I have to add, English is not my mothertongue, so I apologize for any mistake, of any kind. I hope to entertain you.

First Chapter.

Enjoy!

-          11.02 am

It wasn't his fault, and that was a concept well punctuated by the calmness of his stride, even if a little stompier than the usual, because, well, being in his actual position made him nervous after all. He already knew it: there was no one left in the chapel. He was late for sure, and the ceremony had gone without him, he, practically an ambassador for their image, and the new pope was around, and Sister Imperator too, probably left scolding at the air since, again, he had not been there.

Special sighed. There he was, hand on the big handle, heavy door ajar.

Just silence and emptiness.

"Uhh... This sucks".

  -          1.17 pm

Message from Mist:

Special. Ceremony was great. You'd have loved that. The guy talks more than you do. You'll get along well. He won't skin you alive, don't worry. Probably just make you feel like he could though.

Message from Cat boy:

Very funny. I wasn't fooling around, I had stuff to do, a flight to take. The new Papa was informed. I'll go knock on his door later. But anyways, what did you mean by that? The skinned alive bit?

Message from Mist:

It's okay. He is ok. Well, I mean. He's not his brother.

Message from Cat boy:

Enlightening. Look, can we talk on WhatsApp? Who uses messages nowadays? Just install it. It's useful.

Message from Mist:

We have very different jobs kitty. I don't need WhatsApp. Also weren't you going to knock on a door? What, you need a push?

Message from Cat boy

Thank you very much Mist. On my way.

PS: DO NOT CALL ME THAT.

Message from Mist:

Love you. ♥

PS: bring the lube.

Message from Cat boy:

...what?

  -          5.38 pm

When Special walked out the office, he stood still two steps away from the closed door, very quiet, very collected. Looking into space. He looked down at his hands, now full. There were his new robes. Very much practical indeed, and he had already seen them some weeks ago when he himself helped the sewing department, launching some ideas. The mask, that was Omega’s idea.

He looked away, sensing the calmness of the twilight, when people retired from the greenhouses and the fields, the various offices, the library, and showering or maybe simply taking a rest before dinner. He listened to that, the silence, recalling the previous minutes. The man was… he had no idea. Mist had been right. He was not his brother. He seemed cheerful, not so talkative as stated, very stern sometimes, but always with a light, imperceptible smirk at the corner of his lips. He had tried to make him uncomfortable, Special was sure of that. Didn’t even mentioned the fact that he had missed the ceremony for his election. The pope had stared at him, looking him in the eye, with that mix of unknown intentions behind his mismatched ones, and then went straight to business.

So he sighed. Alpha would keep doing interviews, of course. Maybe one, or two every century, by the sound of it. Omega was in charge of a lot of things, and always moving around departments because he was that charismatic. So sure, he would help Special.

But Special was now officially in charge of everything connected to the public. He would be the first in line at concerts, at promotional events, radio interviews, normal interviews, every interview. He would talk to companies, bands touring with them, some lesser members of the clergy (because the big pieces were for Papa, of course) and simply do everything that connected with the core of their engine. He started counting the number of plane he’d have to meet closely from that moment on.

He started walking towards the dormitory, very determined to just fall face deep in the mattress and woke up the next century.

  -          7.22 pm

WhatsApp Chat Group: Feel Ya Sista

Lumia: Guuuuurls

Maery: what?

Lumia: Are you done with the dinner? WE HUNGRY HERE, you know.

Ambrosia: oi, let us work. you’re not the only ones that do things in here, YOU KNOW.

Lumia: I plow the soil from which your damn food comes from. Chop chop.

Mitra: SHUT UP LUIAMN

Lumia: ??

Ambrosia: do you grow cheese from that soil? ham? entire cows? last time I checked, those grew from the truck of the dairy we actually buy from.

Valeriana: Also, let us work. Cirice told us Papa himself is going to dine with us in the hall tonight. We are pretty under the gun rn.

Lumia: NO WAY.

Maery: eh

Lumia: Wtf is the world going to end, this is a first

Era: my life is going to end.

Lumia: You alright?

Era: No. This morning I noticed a mistake I made on Papa’s alb. Every time he flapped that sleeve a year of life left me. The moment he’s gonna notice he gonna suck my very soul out of me.

Mitra: overreacting

Lumia: What mistake? I saw none

Era: I sewed too tight in a place.

Maery: c’mon

Era: AND THE MITRE TOO. The patch is too much on the right. HE GONNA KILL ME.

Mitra: OVERREACTING

Ambrosia: he’s nice, stop worrying

Era: HE HAS THE SAME BLOOD OF THAT MUSSOLINI IN HIM. HE’S A TICKING BOMB, I TELL YOU.

Valeriana: Girl, you talked to him for 30 seconds.

Era: Is there some wine left yes? Because I need it.

Maery: yeah

Ambrosia: i’m turning off my phone. work. see you all at 8.

Era: Don’t leave me…

Lumia: I’m still here

Lumia: Nope, nevermind, I actually have to go to the toilette

Era: Can’t you bring your phone in there?

Lumia: I use it for music

Maery: era stop, or i’ll send scary omega to your chamber

Era: …that isn’t exactly a threat. I fyou know what I mean…

Valeriana: Lmao.

Rita: uuhhhmmm

Rita: girls

Maery: yeah?

Rita: talking about subtext…

Maery: yeah?

Rita: …is it okay if I say I wanna bang him?

Valeriana: Bang WHO.

Lumia: Omega?

Rita: nope

Ambrosia: RITA NO

Lumia: Werent’ you turning off your phone?

Ambrosia: RITA NO

Ambrosia: NO

Ambrosia: wait AT LEAST a week. Ffs.

Maery: also ew

Rita: ok.

Maery: imam send you scary imperator to your chamber

Era: THAT INDEED IS A THREAT.

Ambrosia: ENDING ALL TRANSMISSIONS, NOW. SEE YOU AT 8. BEHAVE, OK? Y’ALL HEATHENS.

Maery: yes ma’am

Lumia: Toilette

Era: dying

Rita: ok.

Rita: …

Rita: …a week is a lot

Ambrosia: RITA NO

   -          8.29 pm

Alpha: Dude, where are you?

-          8.37 pm

Alpha: Seriously.

-          8.43 pm

Alpha: OMEGA the new Papa is here with us. Where the fuck are you?

   -          0.31 am

Omega: Bro, I was busy. I am always busy. What’s the matter. Special missed his ceremony, I missed dinner, so the real loss here is that I’m hungry as fuck.

Alpha: What was so important?

Omega: Fucking haunted trees? You know, those who started slapping people with their branches last week? One of them lifted a root and was trying to actually take a step.

Alpha: Are you high?

Omega: I wish I was.

Alpha: SERIOUSLY.

Omega: Look, this place is a mess. We are not just some campy satanists, we attract some attentions.

Alpha: So what, local flora is pissed off because we worship the big bad guy?

Omega: Most likely someone enchanted things. But it’s okay now. I had to work with that nerd of Brother Euthanasia, just because Imperator couldn’t make a bad impression on our CEO.

Alpha: That would explain why she was so edgy all dinner.

Omega: And when exactly she is not.

Alpha: Whatever.

Omega: Besides, was he pissed?

Alpha: He didn’t even notice.

Omega: So what.

Alpha: MAYBE he just looked not pissed.

Omega: Tomorrow I’m gonna buy him flowers and take a knee okay? Or maybe next time I’ll invite fucking trees at our table so we can go all Isengard with that.

Alpha: Dude, chill. Or eat. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry.

Omega: FUNNY.

Alpha: Yeah. Take a rest, you big idiot. Tomorrow we have to do things.

Omega: And don’t I know that.

Alpha: Take a rest. Love you.

Omega: …gay.

Omega: …Love you too.

(All original characters belong to the band Ghost.

OCs are mine.

Feedback and critics [corrections too if needed] are always appreciated!)

[fortheloveofeos]

Tattoos - Nyx Ulric

Had some fun with Nyx’s tattoos and character design here. The large cat I mention here was part of his actual character design, which I mention here, and is a really beautiful piece of concept art that was never actually used in the game/movie. I added a few tats for…research purposes. Hope you like it.

Tagging Nyx friends: @chocobopuffs @daemonchocobo  - and @opalandowl for the inspiration

xxx

Sitting back against the cracked leather booth of the worn out bar, Nyx sipped is warming beer. His head rested against the once white wall, which was now more of a dirty grey, and one arm was slung over the back of the booth. Crowe was seated beside him with enough room between them for Nyx’s knee to rest in the booth as well. Libertus was already maintaining a pretty good buzz and was rattling on about the love of his life he had apparently seen on his way out of the Citadel after his shift that day. Pelna was pretending to listen, but it was clear he was more focused on his phone than anything else.

“Are you just going to stare all night, or are you actually going to say something to her?” Crowe jabbed an elbow into his stomach playfully and jerked her head towards the bar. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, Hero.” She raised an eyebrow and laughed around her own beer as a few strands of her coffee-colored hair fell into her hazel eyes.

Pelna perked up, his dark eyes looking you over as you served up a round of shots to a loud group of probably college students. “Might have some competition,” he tilted his beer towards the bar just in time for one of the young men to make a rude gesture in your direction once you had turned your back.

Sighing, Nyx finished his drink before slamming the empty bottle down onto the chipped wooden table with considerable force. He managed to climb over Crowe without asking her to get up and landed gracefully in his heavy boots. “Is anyone listening?” Libertus whined before Nyx left his friends and made for the bar.

Your high-waisted, dark wash jeans might as well have been painted on and gave a perfect picture of your ass as you stretched onto your toes to fetch a bottle from the top shelf. Your long hair was swept up into bandana and your crop top allowed for a glimpse of the smooth skin just above the waistband of your jeans as you raised your arms. Nyx thought he caught a glimpse of a spiraling tattoo but you moved before he could focus on it. You had just brought the bottle down from the shelf when the young man that had made the rude gesture made a move to smack your ass over the bar.

Using his reflexes to his advantage, Nyx caught the would be offender’s arm and held it tightly enough to leave marks. “That’s not how you should treat a lady,” he spoke lowly and his blue eyes turned to icy steel as he clenched his jaw. The threat was clear in every part of his body as he glanced over at the rest of the group the kid had come into the bar with, almost begging one of them to make a move.

“Think you’d like to try that with me?” Crowe smirked and crossed her arms over her chest as she took up a position flanking Nyx. For her slender build, there wasn’t a Glaive alive that would willingly tango with the young woman once she had made up her mind.

Shuffling was heard before Pelna managed to get Libertus situated with his crutch against the bar. Although he was drunk, he was still a man of considerable size and the stone mask he slid into place over his flushed features was intimidating enough on its own. Pelna clapped Nyx on the shoulder, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can’t let you have all the fun now,” he turned to the young man still held in the Glaive’s grasp. “Do you need as escort out of the bar?”

Nyx loosened his grip enough to allow him to pull his arm free before he stumbled back a step. For all their show, the group of students dashed out of the bar pretty quickly before everyone turned their attention back to their drinks and their company.

“Could’ve handled myself,” you smiled as a you placed another round onto the counter in front of the four Glaives, “but I appreciate the help. This round’s on me.” You cracked the tops off each of the bottles before handing them out.

The others dispersed back to their claimed booth leaving Nyx in a barstool in front of you. You eyed him carefully, impressed by his rugged good looks and how well he could pull off the black leather pants and matching cotton shirt. Of course, you knew all about the Hero and the Glaives that frequented your little bar. However, you’d never spoken directly to Nyx Ulric, nor had you had the opportunity to observe him. The sides of his head had been recently shaved but his stubble made it clear he hadn’t bothered with his face. His eyes were crystal clear and glinted with something you thought might have been a mix of desire and mischief. What caught your eye the most, however, were the subtle tattoos that were placed on his skin to resemble birthmarks. Without thought, you looked at him and offered your name along with your outstretched hand.

“Nyx Ulric,” he smiled and he shocked you when he grasped your hand in his only to turn it over so that he could kiss your knuckles instead. “Nice to meet you.”

Laughing, you withdrew your hand and went back to tending the bar. Nyx, however, wouldn’t let that deter him and you found his smooth voice traveling down the bar to where you were. “Did I see a tattoo on your hip?” He questioned after several minutes of banter.

Rolling your eyes you motioned towards his cheek. “Looks like you’ve got your own,” you pointed out as you washed a glass.

Shooting you a wink as he tipped back his beer, he smirked. “More where that came from.”

You had taken that as an invitation in its own right. Your fingers tangled into the hemline of his shirt as Nyx kissed you roughly on his couch. The little teasing game the two of you had started had gone on for weeks. You knew he was hiding ink under his clothes and somehow finding them only made you more breathless as you ripped the shirt over his head. Your fingers immediately danced over the outline of Galahad that was placed just over his heart, loving that he shivered beneath your delicate touch. A tribal pattern traced over his collarbone and around his shoulder before ending just above his bicep. You ran your tongue over one of the twisting bands and he grunted before pushing you back.

“You’re turn,” he growled as he ripped your own shirt over your head. The skirt you’d picked out just to rile him up hung lowly on your hips and gave a much clearer view of your own marking. You let him trace a calloused finger over the vines and petals before standing up and shimmying the skirt down your legs. Standing in your underwear in front of him, he could see your own collection and made an appreciative grunt at the sight.

Nyx leaned forward, making a grab for you, but you danced just out of his reach with a giggle as you retreated towards his bedroom. Laughing, he followed close behind and once he turned to shut the door to his room, you caught the beautiful tattoo on the back of his shoulder. “Nyx,” you breathed in awe as you walked closer to study the work of art.

Easily the most beautiful piece you had ever seen, the tattoo took up his shoulder and part of his upper back. The image seemed to shimmer slightly with the white ink mixed amongst his tanned skin. Black and grey worked together to form the large coeurl-like feline that stared straight ahead. Something akin to horns seemed to grow from its cheeks and its blue eyes were strong and fierce. Before you could stop yourself, you traced a finger along the outline of its face.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed with a smile.

Spinning around, Nyx caught your wrist, placing a kiss against your palm. “Thank you. It’s…very special to me.”

“What is it?”

Chuckling, Nyx led you over to the bed and pulled you down beside him. “It’s a feline species only seen on Galahad. They’re fierce creatures - incredible hunters, very loyal to those that earn their trust, and quite deadly if you cross their path.”

As you traced a finger absentmindedly over the ink, you sucked in a quick breath as realization dawned on you. “Your uniform. It’s based on this?” You had seen the patch of fur on the sleeve of Nyx’s uniform and you knew it wasn’t part of the standard issue appearance. He also wore the horned hood and you thought the intricate metalwork may have been meant to resemble the face of the cat.

“It is,” he confessed with a grin.

Somehow, it suited him. The wildness and strength of this obviously large predator seemed to resonate with the soul of the intoxicating man half-naked beneath your fingers. As he looked up at you where you sat beside him, you couldn’t help comparing his strong, bright blue eyes with those tattooed on his shoulder.

Still lost in your thoughts, you were shocked when Nyx pounced on you, pinning you playfully to the bed with a lighthearted chuckle. “Weren’t we in the middle of something?” He laughed before stealing a quick kiss, his fingers going back to tracing the ink over your hip.

“I guess I’m your prey?” You couldn’t help giggling as he rubbed his stubble against your face similar to how a cat might nuzzle its head to show affection. He was clearly having fun with your comparison.

Laughing at the gasp he earned after nipping at your neck, Nyx sat back with you still pinned beneath him. “I’ve had you in my sights for a while.” His mouth descended upon yours in a searing kiss that had you all but surrendering in his arms.

[zarinthelwrites]

Blooming from the Mud Pt. 4 (DGM/Bleach)

“Unsheathe, Mugen,” Kanda growls, and the words aren’t right but they're close enough. His sword ignites with blue flame and he slashes again at the shinigami, sending a wave of indigo to burn the same spot where he had gutted him.

The Shinigami gives a short scream in surprise and pain, and then licks his lips, grinning.

“Do you know what an even more beautiful number than 51 is?” He asks.

Kanda thrusts forward with his sheathe, now also enveloped in flames.

“Second Illusion,” he states, this time feeling the right amount of give as he manages to pierce a lung.

“It’s three,” says the Shinigami smugly, ignoring the blood pouring from his mouth.

“Quit playing around, Yumichika,” A voice growls from behind him. “We weren’t meant to come this far in.”

“Ikkaku!” Yumichika stares directly down into Kanda’s eyes.

Kanda scowls at him. He’s going to cut this guy’s knees off. He ignores the fact that this would likely still leave Yumichika taller than he is.

“Look what I found!” He points his finger at Kanda close enough that Kanda wants to  bite it.

“A child, Yumichika?” Ikkaku has a bald head and red marks around his eyes. He looks irritating.

“No, you ungraceful clod. Our new fourth!” Yumichika sounds way too gleeful for someone with only one working lung.

“I’m going to kill you,” says Kanda.

“That’s perfect, just say that to anyone that asks you any questions.” Yumichika says, carefully checking over his orange scarf thing for blood stains.

“He’s good enough?” Ikkaku asks. His head is so bald and shiny that Kanda suspects wax.

“He’s even got a fake shikai,” says Yumichika.

Kanda bristles, offended.

“What the fuck is a shikai?”

“It’s the manifestation of your soul through your fighting spirit,” answers Ikkaku, fingers lingering around his own blade. “Yachiru’s been looking for a new playmate,” he adds, and now his grin is all at Kanda’s expense.

Kanda can’t take them both on in his current state and they seem to be recruiting him into the Seiteirei, so he only has one main issue with their recruitment strategy.

“The dogs are coming with me,” he says.

Ikkaku looks at them.

“Cute,” he says. It’s so flat that it sounds like an insult. “What’re their names?”

“That’s Lizard,” says Kanda, pointing at the dog with a giant white patch on his face. “The other one’s Fishbone.”

Fishbone picks that moment to yawn, showing of his gross, stained teeth.

“They’ll fit right in,” says Ikkaku. Kanda still can’t tell if he’s joking.

His stomach picks that moment to growl.

“You gonna drop dead if we don’t feed ya?” Ikkaku asks, tucking his hands behind his head.

Kanda considers. He’s still bleeding from long rakes down his back and his arm, along with a deep claw mark over his chest that’s not really visible because it's covered with a sticky white burning acid. He last stopped in town three days ago. He looks down and watches the lotus flowers bloom from the drops of his blood cooling on the ground.

“The dogs haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he says.

“I’ved never shunpoed while holding two giant ass butt ugly dogs before,” says Ikkaku, cheerfully. “Sounds like a challenge!”

Yumichika picks up Kanda with one hand by the back of his collar, holding him so that none of the dirt or blood on him can come into contact with his uniform.

“Blood is only beautiful when you decorate yourself with your enemies blood upon the field of battle, or when you suffer for the sake of art!” Yumichika informs him. “But the number four is truly the most ugly number there is, so I will sacrifice the pure white of my hands for this.”

“Put me down,” snarls Kanda.

“To be held in my grasp is truly an envious position,” Yumichika continues as the scenery starts to blur around him. “An offer so stunning in its magnanimity that none who I ever previously gave this honor to managed to survive the rapture they felt.”

“I hope you get a bald spot on the top of your head,” says Kanda. “And everyone will mistake you for an uglier Ikkaku.”

“I will gut you and use your entrails as a necklace,” says Yumichika. He smiles sweetly. “Then I’ll carve your finger bones into beads and wear them in my hair.”

“You’d choke on them,” says Kanda.

“You’d be amazed what I can swallow, kid,” says Yumichika.

“My name is Kanda.”

“Picked that out yourself, did you?” Yumichika snorts. “You miss rice that badly?”

“I didn’t pick it,” says Kanda, sourly. “But it’s mine now.”

“That’s how it goes,” says Yumichika, eyes losing focus for a second. “Okay, Kanda. You want to be a Shinigami, right?”

Kanda does his best to shrug at while being dragged along at the speed of sound.

“Whatever. So, typically, to become a Shinigami, you have to take this stupid... aptitude test, or whatnot and then kill time at Shin-o Academy until you either receive an invite from one of the Divisions or are able to fulfill whatever requirements the Divisions have. Basically, it's to teach losers from the first twenty districts how to fight and to let captains scout out the good people for their division. With you, we’re just going to skip that step entirely and make you fight everyone in the entire 11th Division, and you’re good enough to beat everyone but me, Ikkaku, or our glorious captain and lieutenant.”

“I’m good enough to beat you,” says Kanda.

“I’ll make lipstick out of your heart’s blood, kid.” Yumichika grins, baring his shiny teeth. “Maybe if you could do more that use that fake shikai of yours, you might stand a chance.”

“It’s not fake,” Kanda says, mutinously. He still doesn’t really know what a shikai is.

“But it’s not real either,” says Yumichika. “Your zanpakuto appears to like you enough that it’s willing to work even without you using it’s proper name, but it can never display its true power that way. When was the last time you slept? If your zanpakuto is this active, it should be at least whispering in your dreams.”

Kanda stares at him in disbelief. Lots of things fucking whisper in his dreams. Most of them are a hell of a lot louder than whispers.

“Maybe if it shouts I’ll hear it,” he says, dubiously.

“I’m going to drop you now, kid,” Yumichika says suddenly. Then he lets go.

They aren’t that far up, really. That fast step-skip that Yumichika was using just let him speed up, not actually fly. He’s fallen from worse. Lenalee has drop kicked him from worse.

Kanda hits the ground hard, and feels one of the bones in his ankle snap. Weird. Walking on that until it heals is going to hurt.

He looks up, then has to crane his neck in order to look up even further. They’ve stopped in front of a curved white wall with its endless stone seamlessly forged together to present a barrier against the outside world. Or a demarcation between the worthy and unworthy, the clean and unclean, the lucky and the cursed. Directly in front of them is a gate, marked with red to show its separate existence.

“It looks ugly,” says Kanda.

“Yes, I’ve always thought so,” says Yumichika. He kicks at the gate, causing a loud bang.

“Higonyuudo!” He screams. “Let me in!”

“I just lifted the gate for the honored 3rd Seat and his dogs tried to eat my blessed hat!” Comes the second scream from above. A heavy weight man with strong eyebrows and a fat chin leaps down from the top of the wall, his white banded cloth hat supporting a distinctive bite mark and a bit of drool. His feet make a crater in the ground when he lands.

“A newcomer, honored 5th Seat?,” Higonyuudo asks. “As the Gatekeeper of the South and Guardian of the Red Hollow Gate, I’m not allowed to let anyone not a noble or shinigami in, you know that.”

“This is our 4th Seat,” says Yumichika. He picks Kanda up by the back of his shirt again and waves him back and forth. “See? Only Shinigami can own zanpakuto.” He sets Kanda back down.

Higonyuudo stares at Yumichika.

“I’ve always wanted to fight a gate guard,” says Yumichika. “Did you know, Ikkaku called dibs on the Gatekeeper before Danzomaru of the North. I never got my chance to... share my appreciation for--” He flicked his hair. “The man’s compliments.”

Higonyuudo blanches paler than the wall. He hurries over to the bottom of the gate, hat flapping as he goes. He digs his fingers into the soil underneath the gates then heaves, lifting the stone up inch by inch until he is standing with the gate resting on his shoulders. “Welcome back to the Seireitei,” he says, breathing at a slow, controlled pace.

So this is like the Order’s former entrance. Impressively hard to enter, but the people in charge have likely already made an easy access back door for themselves.

Kanda steps through the gate and immediately has to pause, as images overlay themselves over what actually exists in front of him. His only memories of Japan are fighting Akuma through blood soaked streets and old, decrepit homes. It jars him, seeing a place so clean.

“To nice for someone from the 51st Rukongai?” Yumichika asks. “Don’t worry, Kanda. You’ll get used to it.”

“78th Rukongai,” says Kanda. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Yumichika this. “I was already heading north.”

Yumichika looks at him, and for a second his eyes change from bloodthirsty brightness to something vague and cold.

“The food’s all rotten, that far out,” he says. “All the farms are in the first 20 Districts.”

“I know,” says Kanda. He tilts his head. “Does the food still taste like dust, here?”

“No,” says Yumichika. His lips crook up. “Even the worst academy student eats rice freshly picked from the fields.”

Kanda nods. Of course.

“So, where is the 11th Division?” He asks. He’s still hungry, has been for every single week that blurred together as he paced through those forests.

“We’re right next to the 8th Division,” says Yumichika, which does the double duty of not answering his question and not making any sense.

“What,” says Kanda.

Yumichika shrugged. “Eight’s an okay number,” he says.

Whatever.

“Let’s just go,” says Kanda impatiently.

There are swarms of shinigami in the streets that they pass through, but most don’t even glance at Kanda, with the few that do so then taking one look at Yumichika and actually crossing the street to get away from him.

“Most of the other divisions consist of cowards and weaklings,” says Yumichika. He snorts in disdain. “Many of them are so weak that they considered our former 4th seat of being lieutenant class when he could barely even hear his shikai. Though from his transfer, it seems he could see his unsuitability for the 11th as clearly as I could.”

“He wanted to be promoted?”

“There is no higher honor than to serve and fight under Captain Kenpachi Zaraki!” Yumichika’s voice switches to how Komui sounds when he proclaims his love for his sister.

Kanda doesn’t want to touch this topic with a thirty foot pole.

Also, his decision to accept being promoted to general was possibly the worst decision he ever made in his shittily prolonged life.

“I’ll burn any promotion offers,” he swears.

“Yachiru is going to love you,” says Yumichika.

Kanda looks at him. That is....definitely a threat.

“Here we are!” Says Yumichika, cheerfully moving on to point at a writhing mass of people in black shinigami uniforms and red and blue uniforms waiting outside of a wooden gate. “Our monthly ranking competition is open for anyone in the Seireitei to join in, with the winner getting the privilege of fighting with our captain and lieutenant!”

Kanda blinks.

“It’s also our only form of recruitment and dismissal,” Yumichika adds. “If you don’t make the cut, we boot you.”

Kanda nods.

“So I just need to fight them all?”

“Sure, why not,” says Yumichika. “We’ve been collecting too much dead weight in the division recently. Anyone that gives up when they’re taken down by a Rukongai brat doesn’t deserve to fight alongside me.” He bares his teeth in a snarl.