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aliceramblez · 1 year ago

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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

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dizzybizz · 1 year ago

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hai here is a sketch dump with too many fandoms :) sorry about the ungodly amount of men here i have been going through it and by it i mean gay

ok wait i ran out of tags??? it wont let me tag them all😭😭😭 im gonna have to be sparing with them uhh i guess i will have to ramble under the cut then cus i like rambling in my tags but i cant with this one 😭

(ok im back from the ramble: it is way too long.... proceed forward if you want to see some guy just absolutely talk nonsense for entirely too long)

no cus i swear i have tried tagging more stuff than this before and never hit the limit but whatever

hello i really use this like a fkn blog huh

i just wanted to provide some thoughts on the harper and rosé one first bc its important to me 😌 cus i was thinking abt harper and how in my head and heart of hearts she would be the kid who thought you get pregnant from kissing and i dont think she ever really grew out of that belief. <- this ended up spawning the idea of harper being a sex-repulsed ace and i will die on this hill actually. fight me or die, you die either way actually nvm

this is just a buncha blorbos i dont know what to tell you really. sketch pages like these always end up so weird for me bc for some reason my brain always wants the characters in them to interact in some way. whether that be talking or just reacting to what the other is doing... its something i cant stop with, its so stupid and silly and i hate it and i love it. where else would i see kabru slowly losing his mind with how loud phoenix wright is in court????

I THOUGHT I HAD GOTTEN OFF THE RAILS WITH THAT BUT THEN THE NEXT PAGE HAPPENED. and all i could do was laugh and ask "what the fuck am i drawing??? HOW DID WE GET HERE? WHY IS THISTLE HERE WITH LEOPIKA HELP" LIKE that page started with the big leopika and then i was like "man i miss thistle lemme draw him real quick" but the curse struck and now hes being homophobic so </3

i rlly like how the nic(k) page turned out ... i just have a lot of nicks i like drawing idk.. the lil guy is an oc,,, one day his ref sheet will be finished and itll be awesome but not for now, sorry baby, no can do. im weirdly happy with how the hands turned out for all of them tho?? so thats a W

yotasuke, murai, nick (youll never know which one im referring to. .. jkjk its hoult i love the pose there ehehhe), nic and the entire last page r my favs. i like em all but those rlly get me yknow- the olly too ofc but ive already posted him, dont mind him being here, hes part of the set. AND OVER ALL IVE BEEN HAVING SO FUN WITH SHADING BLACK AND JUST LEAVING SPOTS BLANK ITS SO ?`????

WHY IS THIS SO LONG PLS DONT READ ALL THIS THIS IS STRAIGHT UP EMBARRASSING AGHSDFGSDHJSGD im all like "yeah i dont like talking about myself or whatever" but as soon as i get to my process or blorbos or smth the floodgates fucking break open, not even burst man.

also dont mind how i havent even acknowledged pingas twink pokemon counterpart. hes just here for shits and giggles i dont know the guy like at all, i watched a handful of eps of horizons and that was it RIP

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seradyn · 4 months ago

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Yours To Bare, Mine to Cherish

Dragon!Sylus tries to push you away when old wounds flare up, causing him too much pain to trust you. You refuse to let him, and instead teach him how to ask for help, how to be vulnerable and not fear the lashes that follow. Basically: how to train your dragon to let you comfort him and give good massages.

As a chronic pain haver, I am forced to give all my blorbos chronic pain :) I’ve been working on this for SO LONG 😭 Still not over his myth so please enjoy us pampering our dragon 💕

Word count: 11,021. AO3 Link cause it's long

Important tags: gender neutral reader, no y/n, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, chronic pain!Sylus, cuddling and snuggling, massages, Dragon!Sylus, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, present!Sylus (you’ll see), arguing, Sylus x reader, Sylus x MC, canon compliant, canon-typical violence

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Your dragon was in a foul mood.

It’d started when you decided you’d like to restore some of the old weapons Sylus had discarded haphazardly around his home. Swords, axes, spears and daggers laid in broken heaps throughout the cavern, each one a trophy plucked from his would-be assassins turned prey, he’d boasted. Impressive as they may have once been, though, they were now but piles of chipped rubbish, pushed up against the walls and out of the walkways, hardly spared more than a glance. A dragon has no use for such weaponry; their claws are daggers, their teeth swords, so the battlements remained as haughty decorations, a warning to all those who dared enter his domain, lest they meet the same fate.

One particular sword had caught your eye. Dragon’s Scourge, Sylus said the warrior had called it, sniffing derisively at the pretentiousness of such a name and the underwhelming performance of said blade. It had pierced neither scale nor flesh before the sorry sod had been strung up in the stalactites of the cave and left to rot, much like his weapon. Sylus claimed it wasn’t even worthy of straightening his bangs, dismissing the old thing, as he had with the daggers you once turned against him.

Upon further inspection, though, after returning from another successful raid, and bored beyond belief, you found the steel to be of decent quality. Being raised under the army’s instruction taught you how to recognize the mark of a good smith. Taught you to know the quality of the metalwork on your blades, how the weight felt as you gripped it, the feeling of it sliding through the air before hitting its mark. They taught you many things, as they groomed you to be their killing machine, while the lordlings sat getting drunk on their own false grandeur.

You hoped with all the blood you planned to spill with it, its steel would take up a new name, carved from crimson rivulets of the faithful. You were thinking something along the lines of Justitia’s Scourge, or maybe even Human’s Scourge, just to rub salty irony into their wounds. But that would have to wait, you thought as you scrutinized it, until it wasn’t caked in rust from centuries of disuse, and a proper whetstone had been taken to its dull edges.

It took a full day and night of work to restore it, though you now reaped the fruits of your labor, watching with a satisfied smile as you turned the blade to catch stray beams of moonlight through the porous cave ceiling. A vinegar bath overnight had peeled off the old rust, and with the tools Sylus had snagged for you from the armories you’d torched, you were able to scour and polish the sword the following day. By nightfall, the edges were properly sharp again, a few experimental swings showed it was ready for battle once more. A bolt of excitement ricocheted down your spine, tingling to your fingertips as you thought of showing the rebirthed blade to Sylus, of cleaving pious flesh from bone to earn it its new name.

It had been at least three days since you had seen your dragon, however. He left you to your devices when you began work on your little pet project, when you’d shooed him out of your chambers to prepare a ‘surprise’. He seemed less than thrilled with the idea, if the downward curl of his lips was any tell, but he’d nevertheless entertained your whims and left you be. You were grateful to have his eyes off you for a day or two, but now that you’d finished, his absence reverberated through the yawning emptiness in your chest, where his claws had carved a dragon shaped hole. Normally, he often lingered nearby, watching curiously as you tried to climb out of his cave, or polished his coins out of sheer boredom, or even while you ate your meals, made of sparse rations stolen from soldier barracks. You hated it, at first, until you realized he didn’t do so out of malice. He was but a shepherd, watching with intrigue as his sheep tried to jump the fence of its enclosure, wondering if it would ever have the strength to clear it, or if it was doomed to an early trip to the slaughterhouse, ushered there on broken legs.

But now you’d seen neither sight nor heard sound of him, and you couldn’t help but miss him. If he wasn’t nearby, you could usually still hear him deeper in the cave, the clinking of coins as he moved about, or the faint rustling of his scales gliding across stone. The gust of wind from a flap of his impressive wings as he took off. The sword was complete the previous evening, and yet the cavern remained noticeably silent. As if the mountain held its breath, anxiously waiting for his return. The mark he left on your neck throbbed, pulsed, beckoning you to him as the fisherman’s lure calls the guppies from the safety of the school.

This wasn’t like him.

Leaving the blade in your chambers; it wouldn’t do to approach an agitated dragon with such a thing; you began to make your way through the winding tunnels, deeper into the darkness. His own quarters, the ones you’d once slunk into with thoughts of dragon eyes and dripping red, were in the heart of the mountain, where the sun didn’t dare reach, and veins of buried magma spread like spiderwebs underfoot, keeping it pleasantly warm. Sylus made it clear his distaste for sunlight, and dragons ran naturally hot; all you need do was follow as the darkness stretched deeper into the earth, down the spiral staircase in the heart of his nest, as the air grew warm and charged.

You descended the last crude steps, carved by his own claws, landing with a thud in his chamber. His overflowing coffers, now teeming with the prizes from your exploits, glittered in the dull orange glow of the candles, a kaleidoscope of technicolor treasures. You felt a wave of satisfaction as you gazed upon your additions to his hoard, proof of your enacted vengeance in every pillaged gem. But less so the jewels, you were pleased with the tapestries, the blankets and pillows now strewn about his cave, after you’d bemoaned the harshness of the stone against your skin. You had no scales to protect you, after all. Sylus thought you odd for requesting things so mundane, but he acquiesced, if only to sate your growing desires.

And there you found him, sat amongst a pile of pillows on his ‘perch’, as you’d lovingly called it, a dark shape against the speckled constellations of his gold. The raised stone dais, where he often lazed about when not with you, had not escaped your demands to make his home more accommodating for a human. A puffy white blanket now laid over the old rock, stolen straight from an Oracle’s bedchamber. You’d tucked ivory pillows with gold tinsel into the corners, to rest his head or back against, you’d reasoned, but Sylus only scoffed. He made no move to stop you though, and you weren’t blind to how he snuggled into the cushions when he thought you weren’t looking, his tail flicking and eyes closed like a contented, oversized cat.

You came up short, however, when you fully took in the state of your dragon. Sitting up, his back turned to you, he was curled in on himself, a taloned hand gripping his tensed shoulders, his tail draped over the edge, twitching restlessly. He hung his head, hiding his face from view, his body heaving with faint pants that echoed in the tight space. Next to him, the once pristine and well kept bedding had been shredded, huge gashes running across the delicate fabric, a plume of feathery down decorating his bed and the cave floors where the stuffing had been ripped out.

The mark on your neck flared to life at seeing him, and you instinctively clasped a hand over it. You could feel the outline of his bite under your fingers, his reminder of your deal, a stamp and signature on your contract. You let out a stuttered breath as the ache spread underneath your skin, consuming, tearing, flaying your flesh open with phantom fire. It burned.

You’d never seen Sylus like this before, never felt the mark throb quite as sharply. It tended to hurt, when his draconic instincts expressed themselves, when you felt him crave mortal souls, but that was a feeling you’d grown familiar with. You knew it, felt it, and discarded it, the mark and his desire tampered down as quickly as it had roared to life. You’d grown accustomed to the feeling, the ache deep in your chest that cried devour, devour, consume, it’s yours, even as it filled you with a sense of wrongness. Sylus never acknowledged it, never hinted that his desire grew in twine with yours, even as you felt the reflection of it in yourself. He swallowed it down, and with it, the mark would go dormant again, like nothing had happened, his stoic expression no less tamed than before.

The pain it radiated now was so different. You felt it travel along the highways of your nerves, burning and burning and burning its way down your spine, through your limbs, all the way to your toes, where it felt like your meat was being pulled from your bones, ripped and sliced and stabbed. You shuddered, a harsh exhale pushed from your lungs as you suppressed the urge to scream, to rip into your own flesh to find the source of your pain, and carve it out. You’d felt a distant ache from the mark as you traveled deeper into the mountain, but standing in front of Sylus, it was nearly unbearable.

Was Sylus…Could he feel it too?

Carefully, on gentle padded steps, you approached him. You made no attempt to hide the sound of your footfalls, you were sure he already knew you were there, if your previous meetings were any indication. However, he was surely irritated, the jerky movements of his tail confirmed as much, and you had no desire to exacerbate it by startling him. You’d been on the receiving end of it before, when you teased him too much too often, or when you demanded he bring you something particularly ridiculous, like the fuzzy mountain cat that now roamed his domain with you. You’d not seen it in a while either though, it could likely sense the ire of its master, and decided it was better to simply stay out of sight, lest it become collateral.

“Sylus?” you broached softly, as you neared his place on the dais. Even the quiet whisper of his name felt too loud in that space, where the tension grew thick, made the air scrape across your suddenly dry throat.

His reply was a deep, rumbling growl, coursing its way out of the depths of his chest and echoing on the cave walls. You stopped in your tracks, eyes going wide as the sound made the fine hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Leave me be,” he spoke, and it sounded nothing like the smooth velvet of his voice, tinged with tender fondness and amusement that you’d grown to adore over the long months. No, this was the voice of a dragon - one filled with seething flames to scorch the earth, make his bed of ash and rubble. A fury so potent, the heavens trembled in its presence.

This wasn’t like him at all.

“Sylus, what is wrong?” You asked, your worry spreading like mold throughout your body, choking you, covering up the pain from his mark, even as it swelled, surged, pushed into your fingertips.

“I am in no mood for your games. Leave.” He hissed. Actually hissed. His tail lashed, gouging out shallow grooves in the rock below his perch, the pointed barb extending and retracting. Poised and ready, like a scorpion’s, right before the kill.

In all the time you’d known him, all the months of shared hardships, he had never spoken to you like that.

Not even when you both dreamed of tearing the other apart.

“What is going on with you?” You breathed, not bothering to hide the worry in your voice, your heart.

“It is no concern of yours,” he threw over his shoulder, and it struck like a sword in your chest.

How could he say that, after spending months with you, helping you, fighting alongside you against a world that abhorred you and him?

How could he say that, as the only person who stood by you now? And you, the only one left who stood by him?

“Of course it’s my concern,” you said, and you wondered if he could hear the hurt in your voice. “Sylus, what is-”

“Have you lost your hearing?” He snarled, cutting you off as his voice grew louder. “I thought I made myself clear. Leave. Now.”

You stared at him, stunned, as Sylus seethed vitriol at the tender place inside you, where you’d planted the seeds of affection, adoration, where they timidly poked their tender leaves out. As you felt them wither, their crumbling stalks easily pulled out, shredded in apathetic claws.

Had you made him angry, somehow? Crossed a line he forgot to draw in the sand, and now he wanted nothing to do with you? Your heart kicked, lurching at the thought. Had your dragon finally grown tired of you?

But, as you looked at him, tensed up and refusing to look at you, your intuition cracked like a whip, and you realized what he was actually doing. Your skin rippled, and you felt a steady stream of anger pump into your veins, to match his own, where once was only worry. You’d worked so hard, tending that garden, to grow something other than bloodlust and hatred inside of you. But now they came back, like weeds you could never fully eradicate, twisting around your fragile heart.

Did Sylus truly think he could scare you away so easily? Intimidate you into abandoning him, so effortlessly? Did he forget that you were not the same helpless little thing he rescued from the Abyss? He said it himself; you’d grown your own horns, when you vowed vengeance on those who damned you, and vowed your soul to him in tandem. You weren’t just going to let him destroy whatever it was you two had built together. You hated the thought so much, it filled your mouth with the acrid taste of bile.

“Sylus, I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly, planting your feet. If he wanted you to leave, he’d have to throw you out. The gnawing worry and anger, coupled with the pain still writhing under your skin, made the thought so unpalatable you wanted to peel yourself open, let him consume your soul if only to let him feel the tender emotions that enveloped you whenever you thought of him, when you looked at him.

“Then you are a fool,” he sneered, and you felt your hopes being snuffed out. “Begone.”

“Sylus, let me help-”

“I need no help.” He spat, the final word tasting foul on his tongue. His tail flexed, muscles rippling as he drove it into the ground, a clean puncture straight through the stone, pebbles scattering across the floor.

You breathed through your nose, trying very hard to stop yourself from saying ‘yes, you do’, bluntly to his face, or it may anger him more than your continued presence already was. You knew when to hold your tongue, despite what he may think.

“Please, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” You begged, hating how desperate you sounded. It reminded you too much of when you first met, when he held your life so easily in his hands. But, strangely, you found you hated his current state even more, could stomach begging like a peasant if it meant you could get through to him.

“Do you truly wish to test my benevolence again, sorceress?” He ignored your question, saying the nickname he normally spoke with such fond amusement, filled with contempt and repulsion. Spoke it the way the Judicators did, as they condemned you, sentenced you to die. As they took you away from everything you knew and loved, and made you watch as they reduced your world to rubble, made you watch as the only people you ever knew chanted for your execution, rejoiced at your damnation.

The extent of this transgression, this intentional cruelty made your skin grow hot, your brows drawing down as nothing but rage bubbled up and shot out of your heart like lava, a volcano erupting and eating away at the worry there. How dare he? How dare he speak to you like that, after all you had been through together? After you blocked blows, fought off the wrath of the holy army that aimed for his vulnerable flank while you raided their temples, their armories, their barracks. You’d taken hits for him, gladly, if it meant sparing him pain, even if it meant feeling the wounds twice; once for when your blood spilled, and again when Sylus admonished you for being reckless, for worrying about him, even if he inevitably patched you up, told you to be more careful in that quiet way he did. After you learned to enjoy what slivers of peace you could find together, how he took you to the night markets, bought you anything your hands touched, and tried to fight the smile that curled his lips as you covered him in cheap, counterfeit jewelry, in leather pouches that he would never use, but you liked the designs of, or that set of old red keys that’d been turned into an ornament, simply because it matched his eyes.

Did all of that mean nothing to him, for him to treat you this way? Treat you worse than he did when you were nothing more than a meal to him?

Part of you was so angry and hurt, you wanted to just do as he said. Leave him to his devices, and let him suffer in solitude. Tell him to never ask for your help again, since he clearly didn’t need it.

You turned, took a step away from him, fighting back the stinging in your eyes. You stopped, your breath catching, as your heart stuttered, like your chest was caving in around it, crushing it. Your vision swam, and you clamped your eyes shut, as you tried to hold onto your anger at him for speaking so cruelly to you. At hurting you in a way you hadn’t been sure you were still capable of hurting. But all you could see were those moments when he showed you the kind of creature he really was. Those moments like when you sang to him on the cliff, and he looked at you with affectionate awe, promised to buy you an organ so you could play it properly for him. The gentle lull of his voice as he carried you away from the tavern in Tarus City, retelling the play to you when you complained you’d have nightmares if he didn’t. How he snuggled with you at night when you had them anyway, because the thought of him mutilating himself was so much worse than whatever you could’ve imagined was the reason for the end to that awful, awful play. How you two poured over maps and star charts, planning your next assault while joking and teasing each other. Smiling, laughing.

Your heart screamed, as the dragon shaped hole he’d carved hemorrhaged, filled your chest with so much blood, you felt like choking.

As much as you wanted to be enraged at him, force him to suffer for hurting you so thoroughly…you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t bear to walk away, even if it meant your own destruction. The prospect hurt so much more than the words he used like daggers.

You straightened, hardening your resolve, tucking your anger away for later. You turned back, marched over to the dais. If Sylus refused to see reason, then you would make him understand his own foolishness.

“This has nothing to do with your benevolence, or lack thereof,” you snapped, proud of yourself when your voice came out even, unaffected by the anger and revitalized concern that now mixed into a potent concoction inside you. “It has everything to do with you being too afraid to admit you need help!”

What you thought before was a snarl was nothing compared to the throaty, guttural angry and inhuman sound that burst from his throat at that, echoing around the both of you like the detonating of a bomb. He twisted violently, pinning you with his eyes, the ill omen of those ominous pools of ruby rose. They crackled like a storm, his nose crinkled and lip curled in utter contempt at your accusation. His next words came out as a barely contained roar.

“I am a dragon-”

“Indeed,” you cut him off, raising your voice to match him, unflinching in the face of his utter childishness. “In which case you can surely stomach telling me why you’re so upset.”

He paused, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly, before he quickly wiped the expression off with a scowl, turning away from you as his tail continued to flick. You stared at the back of his head, crossing your arms, daring him to try to deny it again. You always did like a challenge, he knew this about you. You weren’t going to leave, if for no other reason than the fact that only he could soothe the burning of the mark, douse the fire that tore through you, even as you stood there meeting his anger head on. The truth was, though, that you still cared about him. You weren’t sure if that would ever change, now. Even when he was being insufferable.

Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…Everything hurts,” he whispered through gritted teeth, curling in on himself further.

Your heart dropped at that, the confirmation that the fire in your muscles was also in his, the untouchability of him in your mind shattering.

Sylus always seemed so invincible; he shrugged off the blows from the army as if they were nothing, he stopped arrows with a flick of his wrist, rended battalions with a swipe of his tail. A grimace and a stare, his right eye roaring to life sending whole squadrons into madness, howling as they tore each other apart. You’d yet to see anything perforate his impenetrable scales, save for the greatsword nestled somewhere deep in your chest. Even then, when you first found him in the depths of the abyss, looking up at the sheer size of his true form, all rippling scales, muscle, and teeth, he had seemed more annoyed than anguished, while he sat ran through with the sword, with his massive scarlet wings cocooned in chains. He watched you as the lion does the mouse, waiting for the inevitable, for you to wrap your hands around the hilt, for the blade to slide smoothly out from where it was implanted in his chest, to set him free from the prison of your ancestor’s making.

He seemed so…almost boyish now, in the near fetal position, tail flicking, flicking. And what a strange sight it was. Something filled you at it, boiling and prickly thorned, wrapping around your heart and squeezing, pulsing along with the mark on your neck. It took a moment to recognize it as offense. Offense at seeing your untouchable, mighty dragon, who scoffed at attempts for his slaughter, who laughed as you tried to procure his eye, now besought by something intangible, something which you could not name, that you could not know. Something that your daggers, your swords, all the weapons in the caves could not split away from, could not heal the jagged edges that cut him, and thus cut you.

Through the fire seeping into your veins, though, the only train of thought that remained on course, reverberating through your head was why, why, why is your dragon in pain?

What could be causing your dragon such agony?

You wracked your brain, trying to think if you had missed something, if he had hidden any injuries from your last raid. But the Justitiaurs fell as easily as they always had; tearing each other apart with one look from his glowing red eye. You two were together when you stormed the resident Oracle's chamber, cut his throat with your daggers, and watched his blood paint the ivory tiles a color that matched the gem in Sylus’s chest. Non had presented more than an inconvenience to you both, more like fleas squashed between your fingers. He’d claimed his invulnerability, and proven it just as easily; what could have possibly inflicted such debilitating pain upon him?

Though, you quickly realized it didn’t matter so much the why or how of what Sylus was feeling. What mattered was that he felt it, and you didn’t want him to be feeling it, regardless of the fact his pain was reflected into you.

You gently padded to the dais, watching his twitching tail as you sat on the edge of the coarse stone, brushing aside loose feathers. Here, you caught a glimpse of his face; his nose scrunched, lip slightly curled to reveal pointed fangs, and eyes clamped shut by furrowed brows. Your heart plummeted like a stone thrown in a mirrored lake, lost in darkness’ depths, seeing the pain etched so clearly onto his marble face, disrupting the collected, bored expression he always wore.

“Where does it hurt?” Your voice came out soft, soothing. Gracing the air as a brush of fingers on his skin, a kiss of petals.

“Everywhere,” he huffed, exasperated. He shook his head violently, his claws bearing down on his delicate skin, just shy of breaking the surface and drawing blood. Your fingers flexed, wanting to pull the deadly talons away from his shoulder, away from himself, but you refrained. Patience was key, with a predator so close to snapping.

“Where does it hurt most?”

A growl reverberated out of his throat, a discontented purr. He peaked open his eyes, though he did not look at you, his gaze remained fixed on the shredded blankets, the frayed threads loosened by his rough scales and talons. You simply waited, for the waves of pain to abate, for him to find his voice again. He let out a heavy exhale, closing his eyes.

“…My tail, my shoulders, and my back.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, gaze flitting to each area as he listed them off. Outwardly, you could see no damage to them, the scales glistened a burned amber shade from the sconces scattered about, his mortal flesh was smooth and unblemished, save for the marks his claws had already begun to leave from gripping his shoulder so tightly. Your curiosity burned with the desire to ask questions - had he been poisoned, perhaps? Was he sick? But again, you reminded yourself that questions could come later. Healing must come first.

“Give me your tail.” You outstretched your hand to him, palm up expectantly.

His eyes opened again, darted to you, the deep, preternatural growl rumbling in his throat. You held his stare, unwavering in his clear attempts to dissuade you.

“This is none of your concern.” He looked away, shaking his head again to try to rid himself of the nagging sensations plaguing him.

You frowned. “I know,” you said, making grabby motions with your hand. “Now stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

His growl transformed back into a hiss as he shot you a glare. When you, again, didn’t back down from his challenge, he let out a disgruntled snort. Spitefully, like a child angry about being caught stealing his mother’s pastries, he turned his back to you, letting his long, lithe tail plop gracelessly onto your lap. You let out a light ‘oof’ as the weight settled across your thighs, effectively pinning you down. It reminded you of when he effortlessly threw the dagger out of your hand and pulled you to him with the lean appendage, like you were weightless, like it required barely a thought. You couldn’t say you were surprised, as you admired it, your hands tentatively brushing along the top and sides, feeling, searching as you thought about how to help him deal with the pain.

You weren’t sure if what you had in mind would work, but you were willing to try, if it meant he had a chance at relief. You were taught some basic medicine in the Sanctuary; as was mandated by the army. Basic first aid, how to treat a wound, what was reasonable to handle on the field and what required a doctor. Nothing too sophisticated.

But most importantly; how to handle basic muscle aches and soreness.

You decided to start at the tip of his tail, the impressive spike and retracting barbs you had enviously stared at more than once. You gently took it in your hands, holding it steady as it attempted to twitch out of your grasp. Sylus let out another angry snort, but held still when you refused to let go. Observing the lithe appendage, you realized the end was forged of bone, and beyond your help, but on the underside, the scales slowly faded into a soft, leathery underbelly. You felt along it, slowly moving up, using your fingers and the heel of your palm to gently push on it until finally, you felt it; a knot of twisted flesh just below the surface.

Being as tender as possible, you held his tail firmly as you began to grind your palm into the center of the knot in tight circles, to loosen and soothe the ache there. It was definitely painful; Sylus growled, his tail jerking to wrest it from your grasp, but you simply tightened your grip, not letting him get away. He slowly relaxed, as you felt his flesh detangle, pushing bigger circles into his scales until it lost its shape, molding into the rest of his powerful, healthy muscles. Sylus let out something like hum, clearly pleased, his body starting to relax under your fingers.

When you were satisfied the knot had been thoroughly worked out, you moved on to the next section of his tail, where the pointed barbs faded into smooth ringlets of scales, rippling from half formed, stubbed spikes. You carefully coiled the finished section around you, not wanting to pull his tail by letting it dangle off the dais, and began running your fingers around the base of his spines. The ones closer to the base of his tail were thinner, sharper, little knives diving out of his scales. In contrast, these ones were wide, dull, and short, as if they hadn’t fully formed yet. You wondered if Sylus was even younger than you first thought, feeling the ache of a body that wasn’t done metamorphosing, hadn’t finished growing all the scales and spikes dragons were known for. You wondered if that was why he ached, why his muscles had tensed into knots.

You gently pushed your fingers into his scales, into the mountains and valleys of the contours of what made his draconic skin. You felt how they dipped, like city streets that snaked through clusters of buildings, made a network of highways where you could see the sky, feel the wind on your face. You felt how they rose again, like shockwaves pulsing away from the origin of an explosion, as you pressed your palm into another knot. Sylus grunted, his tail curling of its own volition, as you soothed his muscles. It was different, from the human skin you’d practiced on, but so similar, too. His scales were warm and rough to the touch, but underneath, his muscles steadily smoothed out, like you’d been taught these massages would do.

When you were done there, you had to scoot closer to him, to massage the last part of his tail. The finished parts curled around you, inviting you closer, keeping you in place. You worked around the magnificent spines that curved toward his back, the deadly weapons smooth to the touch, but unmistakably sharp, as you brushed your hand around them. The scales here were bumpy, like permanent gooseflesh pebbled his scales, though the heat radiating off him proved otherwise. You ran your hands up and down, spreading your fingers, rubbing circles and indistinguishable shapes into the peaks and valleys, the bumps and ridges that made the topography of his reptilian skin. You wrapped one arm under him, cradling him gently, so gently, as you massaged the place under the fin-like protrusions that jutted out from the sides of his tail. A deep rumble broke the stillness, and you smiled, when you realized Sylus was doing the dragon equivalent of a purr. His head lowered, relaxing, as you rubbed the leathery membrane of the frills between your fingers, smoothed over the spiked ridges where it turned back into polished scales.

You leaned back, relishing in satisfaction as his tail curled further around you, without pain, without a grunt or grimace. It quickly faded though, as you looked at him, tilting your head appraisingly. Tracing your eyes over his bejeweled back, how the red streaks flowed from it, slithered around his body and rejoined at the gem in his chest. He said his back and shoulders hurt too, didn’t he?

You weren’t quite done, then.

You angled yourself towards him, his tail still in your lap, holding you in place. You laid your hands on his back, the lower part of his shoulder blades, spreading your fingers across the smooth planes of mortal flesh. They tensed at your touch on instinct, drawing his shoulders together, before they relaxed, surrendered to you, trusted you. His tail flicked once, intrigued, before you started slowly rolling your hands, from his shoulders to his lower back, up and down, like using a rolling pin, kneading out dough with your hands. The rumbling purr grew louder, echoed through the cave, his back beginning to arch slightly to give you better access, his head tilting in bliss. You didn’t bother hiding the smirk that spread across your face. Instead, you had to suppress a shiver as you marveled at the feeling of his skin beneath your hands, so delicate and fragile and beautiful, like what you thought holding a newborn babe would feel like. You moved your hands in, towards the cord of scales that traveled down his spine, untangling the knots you found there too. You rolled your shoulders, the pain that burned and ripped through you settling, easing as you soothed Sylus’s ache.

Once his back was done, you leaned forward, chest nearly flush with it, intent on giving his shoulders proper care next, when you yelped as Sylus fell back into you in a heap, his tail sliding out beneath him. You stared at him in disbelief as he settled in your lap, purring, ever purring, his face completely relaxed as he nuzzled it into your chest. His eyes were closed, and he let out a long, tired sigh, as he made himself comfortable, reclining into you like a chair.

“More,” he mumbled, when your hands didn’t return to him, didn’t continue his massage. Against your will, a bark of laughter erupted from your chest, watching the big, scary dragon melting on top of you. His warmth soaked into you, your skin a greedy sponge, and you let yourself just relish in it, for a moment. The outer caves, where your chambers were, got so cold at night, where the lifeblood of the mountain didn’t flow. He brought you blankets, wrapped you in silk, velvet, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as the heat that surrounded him, an aura of warmth that kept the fire in his heart, his belly burning. You held him in a tighter embrace, as you were reminded of how much you missed him, how you shivered in the plush nest of bedding you made, how unbearably cold it was, absent of his warmth for the past few days.

Sylus wriggled, grunting unhappily when you didn’t immediately comply. You snapped out of your stupor, chuckling, impatient dragon, before putting your hands on his wide, muscular shoulders, beginning to slowly roll them in your palms. His left one was much harder to work on, the scales rising up like jagged peaks, the pointed ends barely kept from your tender flesh. You did your best to work around them, pressing your fingers into the canyons where the scales parted, rolling the heel of your palm where they met his neck. He huffed, rolling his shoulders as the knots came loose, as the soreness he felt dissolved like warm fog, the reflection of it in your own shoulders draining.

When the taut string that held his shoulder blades together finally went lax, your hands traveled downward, beginning to delicately caress his arms, over the backs of his hands, before ascending again. An achingly tender touch that your caregivers at the Sanctuary used to sooth you with when you were a child, the faintest ghosting of fingers across skin, a touch so sickeningly sweet it made you want to weep. Sylus’s breath hitched, as you shared this delicate caress with him. He let out a shuddered sigh, turning his hands and opening them, so you could slide your fingers all the way over his wrists, down to his palms, and travel back again.

You both let the moment stretch, let the silence bloom between you, save for the occasional purr or sigh. You watched him, as you tended to his pain, how his back pushed against you with every breath, how his eyes were closed in sheer euphoria as he rested his cheek on your chest. You stared at him as you felt emotions build in your chest, push on your tender ribs, your heart clenching. Happiness that he was no longer in pain, anguish that he felt it at all. Joy that you were able to comfort him when he needed it most, despair that you both let him suffer for so long, by not seeking the other out.

I will always come to your aid.

You vowed it, to yourself, in the deepest recess of your soul. You promised it, to him, in the darkest echelons of your heart. And as much as you would’ve liked to let the silence last, let this feeling of your heart leaping as a blissful doe across a grassy, sun dappled knoll, with your beloved dragon in your lap, there was only one way to ensure such a promise remained intact.

You kissed his hair to smooth him, the delicate silver strands tickling your lips. “Sylus?”

“Hmm?” His eyes remained closed.

“What caused you such pain?”

His contented half smile vanished, brows furrowing. He opened his beautiful eyes, averted his gaze from you, tail swaying in renewed agitation. You worried for a moment that he may not answer you, or worse, try to part from you again.

“Before I was imprisoned in the Abyss, many sought me out. To claim glory in my slaughter, to be the one who finally killed the fiend. I was accosted by armies, whole battalions.” He paused, weighing his words carefully. “They were…harder to repel, when I was younger.”

You closed your eyes. You closed your eyes, against the sinking feeling in your chest, against the despair that crested, flooded you. You could see it. The mark pulsed, and you stared out of eyes that were not your own. You heard a dragon's roar, a familiar sound, as you watched a writhing, living ocean of gleaming steel bound down the hilltops towards you. Massive, scaled hands stretched away from you, swatting at the bright shapes as they threatened you with their polished swords, their axes, their spears. You screamed, as they dug into your arms, your flank, arrows embedded into your wings, your neck. A flash of red streaked across your vision, a sword made of blood descending on you, aimed at your heart.

You shook your head, the images swirling together in blotches of color, condensing, precipitating back into a picture of a dark, black cave. You felt steel along your limbs, pinching, pulling and locking you in place. You thrashed, snarling and snapping your jaws at the chains as your muscles ignited with pain from the wounds that never got proper care. But the chains did not yield against the thrashing of your head, the beating of your wings, your lashing tail. A sword made of blood, holding you in place.

You opened your eyes. You opened your eyes, and looked down at the tormented creature in your lap, who trusted you enough to show you his soft underbelly (even if it required some coaxing), the tender parts that took the blade so easily. And what a monumental feat that was, for a dragon, you realized. For a being whose very existence depended on being the strongest, on having the will to fight against a world that longed for his head from the first moment he opened his eyes. Vulnerability was weakness, and weakness was death. Cruelty was a shield against the swords, bows, axes of cruelty that were wielded against him first. He’d snapped at you, before, as a wolf does when caught in a snare, baring fangs and snarling even as the kind hunter tries to free him. Tries to restore his freedom, before he could finish gnawing his leg off, because what is a leg compared to the boundless sky, a forest that stretches and stretches into a pinprick of darkness, or an ocean that reaches so far, it touches the horizon with blue gold fingers?

You rested your chin atop his head, his horns framing your face. Your hands kept moving, spreading your fingers, closing them, down the ridged scales on his arms, back again over soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, because it was the only thing that felt right to say.

Sylus huffed, brushing off the heaviness that cloaked you at his admission. “You’ve no reason to be sorry.”

You squeezed him. “And yet I am, for what my kin did to you.”

He hummed, clearly still in disagreement, but letting the matter drop. He adjusted his position, getting more comfortable in your lap, snuggling against you. You watched him fondly while you bore the full brunt of his weight without protest, shielded him from the pain as best you knew.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go down to the market and get you some lotion for the soreness.” You suggested, not stopping your hands from moving across his skin.

He hummed again, thinking on it. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Why?” You tilted your head at him.

Sylus took a deep breath. “…This is enough.” He said, his voice heavy with emotions he was too prideful to share.

“…Okay,” you said, because you trusted him, now, to be honest with you about this. Trusted him not to push you away when pain made him feel weak, made him want to hide in the shadows.

Even with this newfound trust, though, you gently cupped his chin in your hand, turning his face so he’s forced to look at you. So he could not claim ignorance as his blood-red eyes took in the conviction on your face, in your words, spoken with genuine, honest devotion.

“Come to me next time you’re feeling like this.”

He stared at you. You held his gaze, holding him softly, but firmly, not letting him pull away from the words you needed him to hear from you, and what you needed to hear from him. Would grow sick with worry, if you didn’t.

He looked away, staring up at your lovely neck, his teeth marks in your skin. He nodded, once, before meeting your eyes again.

“Very well.”

You let out a tense breath, your shoulder blades easing. You let go of his face, but he was quick to grab your hand. He held it up, turned his face into your wrist, nuzzling it, his lips softer than the purest, freshest wool as they pressed into your skin.

“Only if you promise to hold me, as you have today, when I do.” He pushed your palm into his cheek, his hot breath fanning down your arm as he sighed, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

Your heart swelled, felt like it might burst from affection, an adoration that it felt too small to contain. You swallowed around the lump in your throat those thick emotions formed, as he asked you to be his safety, his comfort.

“Always, my dragon.”

Sylus smiled, buried his face in your palm. He placed another gentle kiss on the outside of your wrist, before returning your hand to his cheek.

“How did you know to come to me?” He asked softly.

You paused, tapped his cheek to make sure he was looking at you. Your hand moved, his gaze following it, as you brought it up to press against the imprint of his teeth marks in your neck.

“Because…I felt it, too.”

He stared at you, with those perfect rubies, traveling across your face. His eyes flicked between the mark and your face, before his nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned away from you again.

“That wasn’t my intention, when I gave it to you,” he said, some of his irritation creeping back at his displeasure.

You let out a heavy breath. You suspected as much, weren’t sure he even knew you caught traces of his own desires through it. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No.” His tail swayed unhappily. “You should be angry with me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were angry at him, still. Just not for that. “I can handle the pain,” you said, instead of admitting your hidden feelings.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” He looked up at you, his rose colored eyes filled with…remorse?

“I am willing to, if it’s for you.” You leaned forward, brushing your lips over his temple to reassure him.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disdain. “Humans are foolish,” he hissed, though there was no heat in his words.

You grinned down at him. “One of our many charms.”

He snorted, and you felt how his lips quirked up in a smile. He relaxed again, closing his eyes, your reassurances a powerful balm for his soul. His tail stopped swaying, curled around your ankle instead to hold you closer.

“I am still mad at you, though.”

He stilled, his expression falling. He opened his eyes again, caught your gaze, puzzled.

“I care about you. A lot,” you said, hardening your expression, so he knew you were serious. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you speak to me like you just did without any consequences.”

Understanding colored his features. He had the decency to look slightly sheepish, hanging his head.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” he admitted quietly. He slowly lowered your hand from his face, guiding it to his chest, to the gem embedded over his rapidly beating heart. You brushed your fingers across the smooth surface, traced the edges of each uneven, polished side. He engulfed your hand with his massive claw, closed both of them over his heart. “I will make it up to you. Anything you desire, it’s yours.”

You hummed, considering his offer, letting him open your hand again, lean down to run his nose across your palm. Watched him, as his forked tongue parted his lips, licked a soft stripe across your skin so sweetly, you may have wondered if you imagined it, were your eyes not locked on him. Not an apology, but perhaps the closest a dragon could come to the concept.

You smiled.

“You’re going to have to be an obedient little dragon for a long time to make up for it.”

Sylus stilled, his talons tightening around your open palm. Then he shifted, met your eyes with his, a toothy grin meeting your own.

“I am at your mercy, O great sorceress.”

🐉 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 🐉

Sylus is in a foul mood.

A deal had gone belly up, that he’d been working on for weeks. Weeks of dealing with the sniveling underlings of a business partner he coveted, whom nearly pissed themselves whenever he spoke, of long, boring negotiations that got dragged on for hours beyond what was necessary, of finally drafting and signing a contract for the protocores he needed, only to have a rival business, some small faction he couldn’t even bother to know the name of, made of traitors and vultures alike, had outbid him with an offer too tantalus; the promise of Onychinus on a platter, them as the new reigning monarchs of the N109 Zone.

Their hubris was their own undoing. They hadn’t tried to disguise the bombs they put in his shipment very well, assuming with the contract in place, Sylus was keen to be lax. What they didn’t know is that Sylus is nothing if not thorough, consistent with his business. Every shipment bound for his warehouses is checked, checked, and checked again, to ensure he gets exactly what he is promised, and to ensure situations - precisely like these - are foiled before even having a chance at fruition. The protocore shaped explosives had been caught on the first scans, and Sylus is offended, not at the attempt on his life, but the sloppy execution of the whole ordeal, especially from his own ex-employees.

He’d repaid the offensive slight tenfold. It was customary, after all. Crushed the insurrectionists who coveted the seat of the N109 Zone, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. They’d made their bed, and Sylus is more than happy to help them lay in it, under six feet of dirt. And his new supplier, who was so for such a short amount of time, got the same treatment for consorting against him in his own territory. He stormed the building they used as a den in a hail of bullets and red-black evol, looking forward to the mushroom cloud that would erupt in a ball of fire when he blew the place off the map. He’d smirked, thumbing the detonator in his pocket, as his men scoured the building for anything valuable or useful, while his supplier hung suspended in the air by his evol.

It was when his men reported back what they’d found in the building’s basement that he took a special pleasure in the vengeance he planned to enact. The dozens of women, in cages, they’d found, emaciated and barely alive. Whom he’d had to relocate anonymously to a shelter within Linkon, because he refused to leave them buried among the rubble. He remembers the way his face twisted in outrage when his men first delivered the news of what was going on in that wretched place.

This was one business Sylus refused to dip his fingers into. That level of depravity was lower than a swine’s belly, and he refused to stoop so low as to wallow in the mud with people more monstrous than he could ever hope to be. Had he known about his new supplier’s involvement in such things, he never would’ve pursued them in the first place. But he was a weapons dealer, first and foremost, and his particular brand required top quality protocores to meet his, and his buyers, standards. And, supposedly, his newest catch sold some of the best on the market after his last, and longest lasting one, had been caught in a turf war near the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and was erased from existence completely.

Sylus prefers to keep his emotions out of business; it simply made things easier, less messy. But perhaps he was more biased than he let on, because he let that old, familiar bloodlust make his bones feel restless, let the burning fire of rage seep into his veins like molasses as he discovered the kind of pigs that tried to lay with him. As they tarnished his reputation, by even associating with them.

It was no matter, though. That contract was now neatly shredded in his bin, all copies of it eradicated, and that portly man who ran that business, well, he’d made for a fine night’s entertainment. Sylus feels a deep sense of satisfaction at having acted as his comeuppance, tearing down his fragile kingdom brick by brick, ensuring nothing but a crater would be left of it. His lips quirk up in a smile, as he remembers how the man had squealed - as all hogs do - when he peeled his skin off, slowly, and fed it to the wanderers that lurk in the nearby no-hunt zones.

But, as much fun as he’d had smearing another pest in his territory into the dirt, he is now facing the consequences of his actions, dealing with the fallout of indulging in his murderous whims. Without a proper supplier, he is pressed to find another way to fulfill the orders that had piled up over the last couple of weeks. Onychinus always fulfills its orders, Sylus prides his business on that, but now he is scrambling, trying to find a new supplier who won’t sell him fakes within the next 48 hours.

Sylus sighs, staring down at the papers on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Swirls the glass of wine that’s gone warm in his hand. His head is beginning to throb.

A light rapping at the door has Sylus lifting his head. His first impulse is to be irritated, as he suspects it’s the twins, and with the drumming behind his temples, he has half a mind to tell them to leave him be. But, perhaps their reconnaissance to find a new source for the protocores he needed was fruitful. He could handle them for the few minutes it would take to be debriefed on the results, he decides.

“Enter,” the smooth baritone of his voice broke the stillness of his office. Sylus leans back, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he waits for them to comply.

The door handle turns, and Sylus sits up, when he sees not the twins, but your beautiful, perfect self, wearing one of the outfits he bought you, dart through his door, quickly closing it behind you.

“Sweetie,” he greets, perking up as you turn, flashing him a sweet, gentle smile as you make your way over to him. Though only an expert could see how the slight widening of his eyes, the faint relaxing of his shoulders belied his adoration for you. You, who made every deal worth slogging through, made every contract a stitch in the fabric of the tapestry of all he would do for you, offer you. You, his most precious treasure, who smiled so sweetly as you approached him, are the only one who can tell his face lit up the moment he saw you.

Your brows furrow slightly as you round his desk. “Everything okay? You look exhausted.” You ask softly. Your voice, a caress of feathers against his rough exterior, made him want to shed the armor that protects the soft, squishy parts of himself. He discards the wine on his desk, opens his arms for you, and you obediently plant yourself shamelessly in his lap, straddling him to bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him as tightly as he holds you.

He let out another sigh, the stress he feels seeping out of him as he absorbs your warmth, his shoulders slumping. “Unpleasant business,” he answers, kissing the crown of your head, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along your lower back. He feels his heart swell, strain against the warmth that fills it, as you hum in acknowledgement, nestling deeper into him, rubbing your hands up and down his recently tense shoulders. He wonders how you are able to do it, how you are able to tamper the lingering bloodlust towards the sycophants who thought they would consort against him, by simply being there, holding him, existing.

“Do you want a massage?”

Sylus opens his eyes, tightening his grip as he tries to suppress the way his heart leaps at the offer. You do this for him so often, yet his heart is just as excited every time. He thought he would get used to it, that the greedy, yawning maw inside him that wants to swallow you whole would be soothed by your presence. But with every indulgence, every time you run your hands along his skin, he only feels his greed growing bigger and bigger, his desire for you like a cancer that grows and grows without ending.

“I might become a spoiled brat, if you keep offering so often,” he teases, calm, collected. Hiding the way he wants to say yes, please yes into your ear, beg for his desires that squirm and wiggle in the deepest parts of his heart. He would, for you. He’d bend the knee with a smile on his face, if it meant he’d get to feel more of your angelic touch.

You lean back and he lets you, despite his urge to keep you crushed against him. You smile, and he can see that mischievous twinkle in your pretty eyes.

“Who says I don’t want to spoil you?”

Sylus can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. You may make a monster of him yet, with such promises. “I could certainly get used to it.”

You nod happily. “Good,” you say, leaning in to trace your nose up his neck, pepper the underside of his jaw with kisses. He groans, tries to keep himself from devouring you, like he so desires to do. “Come on then,” you speak into his skin. “Let’s go.”

He chuckles, but dutifully stands, lifting you as he does, your legs naturally coiling around his waist. The papers, his problems from the last few days, slide off his shoulders like rain on hydrophobic feathers as he carries you out of his office, down the hall to his bedroom. The door opens, shuts behind him with a soft click and the brush of his evol, the lock sliding into place to ensure you’re not interrupted.

Sylus sits down on the edge of the bed, holding you in his lap as you begin to unbutton his dress shirt. He buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, smelling you, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your plushness. You kiss the place just above his ear, finishing the last of the buttons and pulling the shirt off him. He takes it, throws it somewhere inconsequential, then shifts you off his lap, looking at you expectantly. You waste no time getting to work, and as soon as you prop up a suitable amount of pillows against the headboard, settle yourself to lean comfortably on them, he crawls after you, letting himself fall on top of you like a giant weighted blanket, wrapping his arms underneath you. You laugh breathlessly, squirming while you complain that you can’t get to the skin oil with him on top of you. Without opening his eyes, his fingers twitch, the sound of a drawer being opened reaching his ears, the small container of oil put in your hands by inky red tendrils.

You scoff playfully at him, before popping the cap and lathering the oil into your hands. Sylus’s nostrils flare, trying to catch as much of the scent as he can. Datura flowers, a splash of vanilla, a hint of lavender. The same scent in the lotion you got for him in Tarus City, when you finally convinced him it would help the muscle soreness, despite his protests. You’d been right, of course. You usually are, Sylus had learned. Though, he is sure you don’t remember the scent, wouldn’t have reacted so lukewarm towards it if you did. Another attempt at making you remember bound for the bin.

He gives up on dwelling on it though, because he has to swallow a moan as your hands, which are so, so unbelievably soft, start to knead his supple flesh, pushing and pulling on his skin expertly. You trace every inch along the planes of his back, the contours of every muscle, down his spine, the place just below his neck. He can feel as his stress is worked out of every inch of him, your hands leaving no place ignored, forgotten. He shivers, his skin tingling with delight as he holds you closer, tries to absorb the feeling into his bones so he can never be without it. He could live here, he thinks. Would be content if this moment stretched into infinity, and he never had to leave your embrace.

He isn’t sure how long he lets you dote on him. All he knows is that sleep has begun to call for him, he feels so relaxed, so full, completed. That the oil, whose touch was cold at first, is now warmed by his body and your hands, is disappearing into his skin as you and it cradle him. He wants to accept the invitation to unconsciousness, let the world fade into nothing around him, but he knows stress has dug its greedy claws into you, as well. You tried to hide it from him, said you didn’t want to bother him; he already had so much on his plate. When would you learn you are never a bother to him? When would you learn that he would strip Onychinus down to a cadaver, if it meant you are always happy, always pleased, always at his side?

So instead of allowing himself to fall asleep, despite how tempting, he holds you more firmly, before he abruptly rolls, planting you snugly on his chest.

“Sylus!” You protest, and he can’t help but smirk; you’re so cute when you’re annoyed with him. “You could give me a little warning, at least.”

“I could,” he agrees, pinching the fabric of your clothes between his fingers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You huff, peel yourself off him to scrutinize his form. “You want a chest rub too?” You ask, hands instinctively moving to start anew.

Sylus quickly grabs your hands, gives them a gentle squeeze. “You already pampered me. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t,” he concurs again, running his hands up and down your arms. “But I want to. I know you’ve been stressed lately, too.”

Your lips part slightly, eyes going wide. You always thought you hid it so well. “I’m okay, really-”

“Don’t lie to me.” He gives you a pointed look, cupping your face in one big hand, running his thumb below your eye. “I can see the bags under your eyes.”

You stiffen, avert your gaze. Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulls you further into him, so you can bury your face into his neck. He runs the tip of his nose along your own neck, kisses the place his teeth once punctured.

“Let me take care of you.”

You don’t respond, for a long moment, and Sylus worries you may try to deny your fatigue further. But then, you give the smallest nod, and he is relieved.

He doesn’t hesitate; starts working your clothes off as soon as he has your permission. His fingers run across your skin, pulling the fabric up, giving you a chaste kiss when you obediently lift your arms so he can finish removing it. You shiver as the cold air graces your form, and Sylus pulls you more tightly into him, letting you soak up as much of his warmth as you can. His evol stirs when you settle, placing the bottle of oil in his hands. He pours a generous amount onto them, the hands made for you, to love you, made for your pleasure, lathers it into them. He puts them on your shoulder blades, spreading his fingers in an attempt to be as gentle as you, before he begins to slowly roll your doughy flesh. You let out a whimper, then a happy sigh as you melt into him, get lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He allows himself to start humming the tune you taught him, the one he knows you do remember, somewhere deep in your subconscious. Your hands grip his shoulders, clutching him as he watches the oil slide across your body, sooth the deep aches where his hands can’t reach.

It doesn’t take long for your breaths to grow long and even, your body sinking further into him as drowsiness overtakes you. Sylus feels a profound sense of satisfaction that he is able to comfort you so thoroughly as to lull you to sleep, as you just had for him. That you trust him enough to let down all your defenses. He remembers, not so long ago, when you hated him, accused him of being a monster, a title more literal than you remembered. When you thought he was responsible for ripping everything you loved from your desperate fingers.

You’ve both come so far since then.

He lets his lips roam across your scalp, nibbles on the shell of your ear. You stir, shifting to secure yourself more firmly in his lap.

“I love you.” Your voice is gruff with sleep, though the words come out no less assured.

Sylus hums. “I love you,” he echos, nuzzling his face into your soft, downy hair. He presses his lips into your temple one more time before closing his own eyes, settling into the cushions. “Get some rest, my beloved.”

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

I had so much fun with this, even though it took around 2 months and like, 20 drafts 😂😭 But I really wanted to show the progression between the past lives both Sylus and us/MC have had and how they are now, while exploring the scars Sylus definitely has from being hunted in his youth. I wanted to show this mirroring effect with past/present and how they’re the same people, but they’ve also changed over time. It was also an excuse to write more nonsexual intimacy, which I couldn’t say no to :)

Btw I hope Sylus wasn’t too mean in this. I HC that he can revert back to such a state when his instincts kick in, because of his cruel lines right before MC stabs him the second time (right before they share souls). It’s like how animals become more aggressive/hide away when they’re sick because they know they’re more valuable during that time. But I hope it wasn’t too much 🙏

I also definitely didn’t cry while rewatching his myth to get names/details right, because the song that plays when he dies plays intermittently throughout the entire myth. You do not perceive me

Disclaimer: I do not consent to my work being translated, published, used without my knowledge, reposted, or used in AI training.

#sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #lnds #my writing #my fanfic #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lnds x you #lnds x mc

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marisatomay · 2 years ago

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interview with the vampire (1994) is so funny because brad pitt was like i fucking hate it here i hate this character i will not read those dumb books i hate this shoot it’s all at night i’m so miserable i want to buy my way out of my contract but it’s a few million more than i can spare and david geffen won’t negotiate a lower price so i need everyone around me to be miserable too so i won’t shower in protest and tom cruise was like i’m having a *blast* i was such a fan of the vampire chronicles so i’ve been rereading the books and wow lestat has so much going on internally he’s my best friend my blorbo from work my wife and i moved to paris for a few months to get a feel for his era and culture and we love new orleans and i studied videos of large cats stalking their prey and i’ve been reading a lot of classical literature to really nail his vocabulary and vocal cadence and i lost 20lbs to really get that gaunt look and wow isn’t kirsten dunst so talented she should be claudia i’m going to make sure she gets the role i’m having so much fun i love it here and guess which one anne rice waged a very public war against until the studio had to step in because she was getting too nasty only for her to do an about face when the movie came out and proclaim that his performance would be remembered with olivier’s hamlet

#okay i shouldn’t be sharing this but a buddy of mine has a journalistic in for the mission impossible new york premiere #and they’ve added a two part question to the ones for tom cruise at my request #has he seen the new iwtv series and did he like it #stay tuned

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skyrim-forever · 1 month ago

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This is gonna be a very personal post but given the situation I wanted to say something here but

My 6.5 year relationship has ended, I have nothing but love for my ex but it was clear that we need different things in life. We met at 20 and went through 3 years long distance together spread across the country. We had hopes to be together forever and he is the only person I've pictured spending my life with. Despite our differences, we had some great times together.

I particularly wanted to say something here because he was the person who got me into Skyrim. My relationship before him (my only other relationship), my ex got me to play through the tutorial and I said "it was alright but I don't think it's for me" *bombastic sideeye*

After I had moved in back in 2019, he had a spare pc and suggested I try Skyrim because it was one of his favs. I had some time over winter break from uni and got instantly obsessed. I played the game a whole bunch but never dipped any further than what the general Skyrim audience knows. It wasn't until 2022 while I was bored during the summer in grad school that I started playing again, watched all the lore videos I could find and eventually on July 4th 2022 I made this blog because none of my friends where into Skyrim and I needed an outlet for it. Then of course I discovered people made ocs for their Dragonborn's and the imperial named Theodora started to develop in my head. Initially, she hated the Thalmor but as you all know that didn't last long :P

Then I started interacting with some of the cool people here and seeing them write fanfic made me think I could too and even put it out on ao3. And then I made more friends, and I took up beading and I combined it with tes. And then meet more people, wonderful people I now chat with in discord servers and in the dms where we are *very normal* about elves :P I've even had a few voice calls with some and I hope to have many more in the future <3

So all this to say that although my life is in upheaval, my anxiety in particular is really rough now, that relationship did much good for me and one of those things was helping me find this community. Tumblr really has been my refuge throughout the difficult time I had in grad school and the loneliness I've experienced moving away from my irl friends. Thank you all for being funny, kind, creative, very normal :P I'm blessed to have not only a good community around me but a good online community. I hope to have blorbo thoughts again soon <3

#eve rambles #serious post #tesblr #the internet is by no means perfect #but this little corner has some stellar people <3

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fanaticsnail · 11 months ago

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The Kissing Booth is CLOSED

There are a few kisses to come!

Masterlist Here

Idle chatter and shrill cries of glee were flung into the air without inhibitions. The wafting scents of sweet candy floss, buttered corn puffs, and roasting smoked meats surrounded your senses. The lingering taste of your last mint-flavored freshening tablet briefly numbed your tongue, before dissipating down your throat behind your freshly cleansed teeth.

Clicking your tongue, you regained feeling behind your teeth and enjoyed the cooling after-effect rolling over your palate. Patting your thighs as you sat atop the wooden stool, you lulled your head to the side and smiled at the live music serenading you, painting the atmosphere with lively vibrancy.

You did not know what truly possessed you to volunteer for this project. Whether it was the insistence from your closest friend that it’d be good for you, your boss informing you that this would greatly benefit the cause, or simply the fact that you had a few free days to spare and you were bored. It truly did not matter.

What matters was this: you were here now, eyes shrouded behind a dark blindfold, and sat awaiting the first person to sit across from you.

Your job for the evening: offer your lips in a sweet kiss to those slipping a few leaves of Berry into the jar in front of you.

Now all you have to do is wait…

Rules and Links Below

How to play?

Select a character from One Piece and submit "(Character) for Kissing Booth please" in my ask box. I will answer with the kiss and link it below once it’s done.

Once a character is kissed, they're kissed! I will try not to do double ups because all characters deserve kisses. If your favorite is taken, please enjoy what I've produced for them!

One kiss per account. Please keep it fair, I want everyone to have a chance to kiss their blorbos.

They are only drabbles: no full fics, just a little kiss while blindfolded with your favorites.

No character is off limits, aside from minors. Everyone gets a kiss: humans, fishmen, giant folk, minkfolk alike.

I am completing these between writing my usual fics and drabbles. I wanted to give you something in return for reading my fics, as my little gift to you. Thank you for being here!

Notes I am doing this because I’ve reached a follower milestone and I am so, so happy to have you all here. This community has been beautiful, and I have been made to feel so welcome. The last time I hit a milestone, I wrote some cheek kisses (Part 1 / Part 2). Now come get kissed on the lips while blindfolded, you beautiful people.

Characters

I am going through the list from first in and completing them as they come. Love you, and enjoy your kisses 🐌🖤. Coming soon on the menu.

Paulie for Jintaka-Hane

Luffy for Remisloves

Hongo for Akagami no Laney

Smoker for Sunflowersatori

Aokiji Kuzan for Skullfacedlady

Heat for Nocturnalrorobin

Sir Crocodile for Cartoonykat

Sanji for Vespidphoenix

Shachi for Daydreamer-in-training

Law for Bby-Deerling

Zoro for Indydonuts

Buggy for Rorywritesjunk

#one piece #x reader #kisses #one piece x reader #one piece x you #kissing booth

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arecaceae175 · 9 months ago

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So I see a common head canon to explain why Sky can sleep in everyone's bed is that after his parents died the village as a whole raised him (I love this headcanon so much)

But that got me thinking. Would young Sky's toys be spread across every house? Would he have to go on a mini hunt across the whole village to try finding which house he left his favorite blanket? Who's cooking does he prefer? How much did people miss him spending the night when he joined the academy?

I just. I had feels with these thoughts, and wanted to share them with you because I know he's you most blorbo shaped boy

HELLO I LOVE THIS!!! That’s adorable actually. I love this so much.

In my head, the islands in the sky are a lot more populated and numerous than shown in the game because of game limitations. It’s a fully functioning society, and Skyloft is the biggest island and the main city, but there are a lot more. Still, I don’t imagine there’s a lot of surplus in supplies and resources. Everyone has to be careful and only use what they have to so that everyone will have enough.

If resources are delegated by household, it would make sense that Sky has to be passed around. No one family would be able to spare the extra food or clothes or toys to take care of him full time. Oh and once little Sky is old enough to really grasp the concept of scarcity, he might feel some guilt at using other families resources. As soon as any of them realize he’s feeling that though they would quickly put an end to it. Everyone there loves him like family.

Skyloft would probably have to have some sort of system for taking care of orphans and like getting a different amount of resources per household but I don’t feel like thinking about that system rn so the headcanon remains 😂

I see a lot of fics with Pipit as Links big brother figure, and I love that headcanon. I imagine he spent a lot of time there. And I think he would’ve spent a lot of time at Zelda’s house too.

Oooohhhhhhhh AH I can see a scene in my head right now. Sky’s at Pipit’s house and Mallara is getting the boys ready for bed but then Sky realizes he doesn’t have his favorite Stuffy, and he CANNOT sleep without it (it’s a Loftwing plush named Brenda because I’m in charge hehehehehe). Sky is distraught and so Pipit comforts him while Mallara goes from door to door trying to find Sky’s Brenda.

He’s so cutie patootie and I love him

#thank you so much for sharing this thought #he is in fact the VERY MOST blorbo shaped #I love you skyyyyyyy #linked universe #lu sky #ace’s asks #I had a bad dream last night so waking up to this ask was the perfect way to get my mind off it 🫶

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theyearningghoul · 20 days ago

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OTP Vibes Game

I was tagged by the lovely @redheadsramblings a few days ago, am only getting around to it now 😅💕 ily friend thank u 🫶🫶

Rules: Post some pictures of your OTP and their vibes, some info, and a song that fits their vibe. That's it. Edit as you please.

Magdalena and Emmrich 🖤

THIS WAS SO FUN I had a grand old time making those memes lmaoo love these idiots from Immortally Yours

Tagging a few beautiful friends, idk if y'all have already done this or not, if so it's just a ping to say hi and that I think you're cool 👋💕

@velvet-apricots @caughtnyact @guacamolleee @silshinobii @hedwigoprah @thepalehorsevictoria @spare-coffin @paramortality @farore05 @thequeenofthewinter @holdingontojupiter @sofiemystique @bionicgrapejuice @starfleetteddybear And anyone who fancies a go at this! Always fun to make stuff about the blorbos <3

Also another extra meme I wanted to include that captures their vibe LOL

#immortally yours #emmrich volkarin #magdalena mercar #emmrook #emmrich x rook #tag game

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shield-and-saber · 2 months ago

Note

So feel free to ignore this but I am literally so intrigued by your HCs about Sol's childhood?? Spare a crumpet pls???

P.s. thank you for filling my dash with Baze and Chirrut (and Sol) <33

so a lot of my headcanons come from a combination of trying to add context to what little we know about him in canon + my own self-projections lol. buckle up, we're going for a ride (my ideas span from his pre-jedi childhood on his homeworld probably up to his teenage years as a padawan!!)

(banner is an edit made by the blorbo from my blogs @/armoralor)

so first off, jj actually spoke very briefly about sol's childhood in an interview from july 4 where he mentions that sol was very lonely and kind of struggled with his training when he was growing up. plus we have that line from vernestra in ep 1 about how sol was shy when he was a youngling

funnily enough, i hadn't seen that interview when it first came out but i was thinking a lot about sol's childhood around that time, so i'd made like a whole post about it literally a week after, which i'll add my favorite parts here:

i keep thinking about what would make a man so dedicated to being a jedi so reckless and selfish when it comes to wanting a padawan, and all i can think about is him growing up lonely he's so shy that he's unable to connect with his peers and thus feels closest to his mentors and the adults in his life, but nothing feels satisfying to him the way he wants it to. he doesn't feel like anyone truly knows him bc his peers see him as odd and the adults see him as a child, and he feels somewhere in between

^ especially in regards to the 2nd part, i kind of headcanon sol as being neurodivergent or on the autism spectrum. now this is much more of a me-specific headcanon bc i'm also on the spectrum and i grew up feeling much the same way, so i ended up projecting onto him a lil bit. but i digress.

me personally, i was a very lonely child bc i loved books and learning more than being with my peers (and i couldn't socialize to save my life). i got along better with the teachers & other adults in my life than kids my own age. similarly, bc of sol's deep friendship and connection with vernestra, i like to think of her being a mentor to him when he was a youngling, that she was the jedi master he always turned to instead of any of his peers bc she made him feel safe and heard (maybe she was the one who found him???). plus she had her own "gifted child who advanced too fast too early" complex, so i think she would've understood sol and tried to support him (i also like the idea of her being sol's master & i know that's not canon/wouldn't work bc of qimir, but i still like to headcanon it anyways lol)

as for his family life before the jedi, i get p much all of my thoughts on that from ep 3 & 7. he tells osha that he was taken from his family at the age of 4 & that not only was he different from the rest of his family, but he discovered that with the jedi there were other children like him. so again, on his homeworld he was probably very lonely and separated from his peers bc he (and everyone else) knew he was somehow different (which would again relate to him being on the spectrum. when ur growing up and ur not neurotypical, you kinda just know that you don't fit in with everyone else but you don't understand why)

where my other thoughts on his childhood come is also ep 3 & 7 related. like i mentioned in the tags of this post, you can see how sol is reacting to his observations of the baby twins in the forest. my biggest takeaway from this scene is when koril shows up and says "there will be consequences for breaking the rules"

^ tell me that's not the face of a traumatized man. my very first thought when i realized this was, oh god he was abused. maybe that's dramatic of me, but i think that either emotionally or physically, baby sol was mistreated by his family (if he's this terrified of "consequences", did he get hit as a kid for disobeying/breaking rules/not doing the right thing?). he literally has that ptsd deer in headlights stare, he's visibly shaking, and for the rest of his time on brendok, sol is acting under the impression that the twins (but mostly osha) are in danger. he's projecting his own trauma and fears onto osha bc her predicament reminds him of his own

other less angsty headcanons i have of his childhood/homeworld have just gradually developed from wanting to see him happy, things i've seen explored in fics, etc etc. but i like to think that sol grew up in a little farming community, like a foresty rural korean village, and i think he had a mom, dad, and some siblings, altho i definitely think he was the youngest. (this also leads into my thoughts that, if sol had never become a jedi or he'd left the order, he would have been really happy becoming a farmer on his homeworld and getting married, starting a family of his own. or maybe he would've been a teacher to the local children. either way tho, i think a quiet and peaceful life with a family of his own that he absolutely treasures would've been so wonderful)

i also think maybe he was also very fond of nature. he probably enjoyed the river, exploring the woods, feeling the force energy that emanates from every living thing. so ofc when he gets taken to coruscant, that's an incredibly jarring experience for him bc everything is cold, hard metal or stone. even as beautiful as the jedi temple is, it's all stone. there's no grass or flowers or gardens or animals except for like, the one singular tree in some meditation garden i think?? and the last surviving piece of the planet is the highest mountain that you can only see the very top of. so i think maybe that contributed to sol feeling alone as a young padawan bc he was disconnected from nature and it left him feeling really unmoored for a long time

so like, all of that combined with sol's inherent fondness for children really screams to me about a boy who grew up feeling very alone, probably didn't have a lot of friends, and had a very emotionally painful life, and then he saw all these little younglings who want to become jedi and he thinks to himself "i could show them that they don't have to be afraid, that there are no wrong answers when it comes to the force, i won't let any of these children feel the way that i did". which is, i think, why he connected so much to osha ("you're going to be okay, osha. you will never feel like this again."). he saw that she didn't want to be on brendok, she felt like an outcast among her family, and he really connected with that 💔

#master sol #sol the acolyte #sol the jedi #the acolyte #my posts #anyways thank u for coming to my ted talk #ALSO i have thoughts on a sol au where he's a fellow guardian with baze and chirrut. might i interest u in this concept?

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plethora-of-imagines · 6 months ago

Text

Cardinal Copia's Costume Curator

AN: This is in tribute to the wonderful beloved @how-masterful for her birthday! (Who introduced me to the band's lore which made me finally listen to the songs, and well..... I'm now very obsessed)

It's the first thing I have written an a long while... oops! But I got into a very competitive health program so I am very busy actively fighting the gods to survive being back in school.

Which means this is only loosely edited, and probably very out of character but I had fun writing it! (In the dreams of my head where I actually do have time this would have been a slow burn multi chapter, but I've never managed to do one of those soooo oneshot it is)

I hope you had the best of days beloved and enjoy your (our) blorbo story

Word Count: 4402

Ao3 Link: Here

Warning: smut/lemon, nudity, blowjob, semi public sexual contact

Description: A collection of moments between the new costumer for the tour and her Cardinal.

Knocking on the door of the dressing room she spared a quick glance back at the ghoulette who had helped guide her. A cute little thumbs up and a smile of an alarming amount of teeth greeted her. She tried to push past her general anxiousness to recognize it for the reassurance it was.

“Ah, hi, hello,” the uncertain greeting from the Cardinal as he opened the door made her turn back to face him so fast she feared she gave herself whiplash.

“Hello Cardinal,” she began in a hurry, sheepishly introducing herself. “I’m umm- your new costume curator?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” he gestured for her to enter the room. Charmingly grabbing her hand to kiss before awkwardly trying to rub off the black stain his Cardinal paints left on her bare skin. Smudging it just enough to make the single lip stain scarcely recognizable. “Sister told me you were joining our little touring family. But uh she did not say why. So good to know that you will be helping with costumes in some way then.”

“She figured you needed me after the video about the belt got back to her.”

He seemed to deflate into the uncomfortable leather chair that came with this touring spot’s dressing room.

“That uh got back to her and all the siblings then, si?”

“Yes Cardinal.”

“Good, great.”

It certainly did not sound like he found it good at all. The silence made her nervous so she rushed to fill it with an explanation that it seemed Sister Imperator had failed to give him.

“She actually seemed to think you handled Sister Maria’s mistake well? Or at least she was more upset with learning from the Siblings here that Sister Maria was more focused on indulging in sin instead of her job?”

“Sister who?”

“Sister Maria?” Did she remember her predecessor’s name incorrectly? “The previous sibling in charge of your and the ghouls’ costumes?”

Rubbing the back of his head, making a mess of his already ruffled hair he admitted something that would have had Sister Imperator flaying your predecessor alive.

“I ,uh, did not know we had someone in charge of costumes. Me and my ghoulies have been taking care of them ourselves.”

“Yourselves,” she screeched. Rushing to explain herself, “not that they seem to be in poor condition, they looked decently taken care of if not a little disorganized. But uh none of you were taught how to take care of these beyond the basics! Who has been checking for any issues with seams? Or keeping track of the spare costume pieces?”

“Eh heh,” gently scratching at his face as he spoke up. “I did use a bit of the Google when the tour started to figure out how to spot clean them after a little incident with the ghouls.”

It was endearing how proud he was of himself, even she couldn’t bring herself to be upset about the possible damage to the garments. She had already looked them over and on the surface they were fine enough. There was even more work to be done than she feared with her initial evaluation of them.

“But it will be a welcome change to have you taking good care of our uniforms, Sister.” He sheepishly looked into her eyes. “Would it also be possible to have you assist backstage with my quick changes. I’ve always made it but it has been cut rather close before...”

“I almost don’t feel bad for Sister Maria when Sister Imperator gets her hands on her. Almost,” she joked before working to reassure him that she would be dutiful in her job. It was an honor to be allowed to join the tour when not a long term or high level Sibling. She was eager to prove her worth. “Cardinal, you should have had someone assisting you this whole time, it's part of the job! I know we encourage sin but I think Sister Maria was too indulgent with practicing sloth when it came to her job.”

“Si, if I had known who she was and that she was supposed to be doing all these things I would have had a conversation with her before something made its way back to Sister.”

Clapping, he stood up, lending her a hand to guide her up from her seat.

“Now let me introduce you to the rest of my ghouls. Sister said that you are to join us on our bus so that you can work if needed while we travel, which now I know means if we have any costume malfunctions that need your guiding hands.”

***

Nervously she straightened the hanging costumes again for the millionth time. It was almost time for the first costume change with everything that need to be done to get things in order they hadn’t had a chance to practice how she would help. Changing the Cardinal from his cassock into one of the skin tight suits that he admitted were tricky for him to get on alone with how much they clung to his skin. Eager to be helpful, fearful that she would in truth be a hindrance to him.

“You look as if you have seen a ghost, Sister. And not one of the ones on stage,” the Cardinal teased as he stepped into the makeshift changing room that she had set up with spare curtains.

Lightening her mood by gently plopping his biretta onto her head.

“This is already much better than when I was doing this alone-”

“Because you can use me as a glorified hat stand,” she teased.

“Ah, I was going to say because I have some privacy and am not just rushing off to a dark corner to undress, but yes that too.”

Growing more comfortable, her hands worked to help free him from his clothes efficiently, undoing the buttons down to his navel so that he would be able to simply step out of the garment. Catching a glance of his bare chest while turning to properly hang up the belt he had handed off to her.

“At least they didn’t decide to mirror the whole thirty three buttons for Jesus’s life thing when they copied the idea. Can you imagine if they had decided to make that thing have six hundred and sixty six buttons? We would never get you out of it!”

“Si, and what a hindrance to the sin of lust that would be. A frustrating new form of chastity belt for the clergy.”

Mentally planning the best way to help, she grabbed the skin tight pants. If they took him the longest to get on, then that is where she should start. He could put on the shirt while she started to pull on the pants. Quickly gathering the length of each pant leg and condensing it so that he could slide into them. Moving to kneel on the floor before him. Looking up to tell him to step into them.

Instead of her eyes meeting his, they met his cock. His completely uncovered cock.

Freezing, eyes locked on the monstrosity of a cock that hung before her. The hair neatly trimmed, balls symmetrical, and cock tip a pretty shade of pink. Oh Satan. She couldn’t help but continue to stare without a thought in her head beyond, “pretty”. It was the most beautiful cock she had seen outside of porn- not that she was terribly well versed, but she had seen a fairshare in her time in the church.

Her burning face felt like it was glowing as she turned back into reality. He had been speaking to her.

“Huh?”

“I’m so sorry Sister. I should have warned you that I cannot wear anything underneath, since the lines show with those pants. You didn’t consent to this.”

Struggling to find the words as her lips stumbled around them, “it’s fine. I don’t mind, just a little surprised. Not that there is anything little about that surprise.”

Could someone come drag her into hell early? Why did her brain decide the proper response in that situation was to actually say that!

“Please step into these pants before I further embarrass myself,” begging as she refused to look at his eyes or his cock anymore.

The two of them worked together to force him into those pants. Even with her distraction at his firm thighs and well defined bulge that she did not need to use imagination to remember what was underneath, they finished well before his que.

“Thank you Sister,” he blew a kiss her way as he pushed past the curtains again.

Still braindead from lust she waved goodbye to him like a fool. Slamming her head against the wall the moment he was out of sight.

Oh Satan, they had to do that several more times. And the worst part is she wouldn’t get any privacy on the bus later to do anything to mimic what she wanted that cock to do to her.

***

“Mountain! Where are your shoes?”

She timidly approached the tall ghoul. Their height differences further accentuated by her eyes being glued to his sock covered feet. Feet lacking the shoes that should be on them.

“If there is something wrong with them I could try to fix them?”

Glancing up into the blank mask. Nervously shifting while waiting for some sort of response.

“They’re fine,” he answered in a deep rumble of a voice, so quiet it almost couldn't be heard. At her wide eyed questioning look he elaborated, “interfere with feeling the beat.”

Oh, so that’s why he didn’t wear them. She nodded, subconsciously fiddling with her grucifix in an anxious habit she was unaware of but that the ghouls had all picked up on.

“You do wear them outside though... right?” Her panic grew with Mountain’s continued silence. “Mountain, there is broken glass everywhere outside the venues!”

The stoick ghoul tilted his head to the side like a curious cat, tail flicking in interest at her words.

“You could get hurt!”

“Cute,” his words were followed by two light pats to the tip of her head. “Don’t need to worry about me.”

Turning to wander off again while she squeaked out his name in shock.

***

“Sister, a word- privately,” the Cardinal softened his words the moment her eyes met his. Striking white eye filled with silent care. “If that’s all okie dokie with you.”

“Of course, Cardinal.”

Gentle hands corralled her from her seat at the built in dinner booth where she had been losing steadily at cards against the ghouls. Door softly clicking shut behind them, enclosing them in the small private room at the back of the bus that was seldom used.

“What can I do for you Cardinal?”

“It’s more what I can do for you, Sister.”

Her confused, “huh” had barely left her lips before he continued on. Rushing as if the words would get caught if he did not push them out all in one breath.

“You have been traveling with us for a while, si?” He left no room for a response. “But um not once have you confessed your sins?”

Remaining silent she avoided his glance. Not wanting to admit that the reason she had failed to confess were her sinful thoughts of the man she needed to confess to.

“I just wanted to know if I had done something wrong? To make you, not want to confess, to me?”

Rubbing his fingers together, looking so concerned for her, so downtrodden.

“No,” she rushed to reassure him. “You’ve done so much to make sure I am comfortable here Cardinal! I just- don't have a lot to confess to...”

“Ah, good- that I have not made you uncomfortable! Not that you have felt unable to freely sin in honor of our Lord Lucifer!”

Taking a seat on the couch shoved into the corner of the room. The Cardinal patting the cushion next to him in invitation. Carefully making her way over to his side, trying not to trip over the corner of the bed also squished into the small space. Gingerly sitting down with as much grace as she could manage in the tight space.

“Eek,” she squealed when firm hands pulled her upper body against his, arm pinning her in place. Taking the only option available to her, hiding her face against his shoulder. Soft red velour tickling her face.

“Now that you have at least an illusion of privacy. Pretend you are back in the comfort of confessional back in the abby, piccola.”

Her mind went blank of any sins she could confess to beyond her obsession while in the limited privacy of the tour bus with thinking of the Cardinal’s perfect cock and how it would feel in her aching, empty pussy. Of grinding her throbbing clit against his firm, supple thighs. Hng.

“Oh, ummm vindicate my envy of...”

Small circular motions were rubbed against her back.

“No sin is too small, too indulgent, or embarrassing to confess. Let it out, Sister.”

“My envy of the little plushies that the ghouls are getting from fans, my pride of how my work is ensuring you all look hella good on stage, and hmm... My greedy hoarding of the extra blankets that Dewdrop kicked off his bunk.”

“Ah I will keep that last one very much a secret from our dear Dewdrop, otherwise you will find him sneaking into your bunk in revenge,” he teased. “Your sins are vindicated, and may your envy be rewarded at our next stop.”

Pulling away from him as she thanked him, pushing down the urge to confess to her attraction to him, “Thank you, Cardinal. I actually do feel better having had my sins vindicated.”

“I will give you any soft plushies I am thrown, Sister. Had I known you were wanting for one I would not have given them away at the end of the show.”

Giggling at his words as a beautiful thought entered her mind of what type of plushie she could be receiving.

“I offer to give you what you yearn for and I am laughed at, so cruel to me Sister.”

Melodramatically clutching his chest in anguish, the sweet little drama queen he pretended to be.

“I can’t wait to own my own little Plushia, Cardinal.”

“Nevermind, I would not dare give you such a cursed object, Sister!”

“They’re not cursed, they’re cute!” She insisted.

“Maybe to someone blind,” he protested with a smile as her laughter grew infectious.

***

Rushing onto the tour bus in a small panic, she looked for the Cardinal. Everything had been taken care of and put back into its proper place except for the pair of black pants that went with one of his infamous tailcoat suits. She had checked all the dressing rooms, backstage, and the racks of costumes- twice. It had been misplaced- she refused to say lost until there was no hope of finding it.

“Cardinal! I need you-”

The ghouls and Cardinal turned to look at her dramatic entrance. Freezing for a moment in intimidation from the brightly demonic eyes of all those already settled on the bus. In mere moments the Cardinal seemed to recognize her distress. Embarrassed at her surely sorry state she tried to settle her wild hair as he stood and rushed to her.

“Sister, are you okie dokie?”

His concern was sweet, but unfortunately made her spiral again.

“I can’t find it!” Not thinking in her panic to explain what she was even looking for, only able to press on with her worry. “I looked everywhere I could think of, even under the fucking couch in the dressing room which I am certain now is covered in bodily fluids that I don’t want to even think about.”

“Sister, you need to relax! Tell your Cardinal what you are looking for.”

“Your tight black pants are missing! Sister is going to kill me, summon me back from hell and then kill me again!” She cried out in anguish.

Losing this job would hurt, she loved it. The fun and excitement of touring. Getting to know her Cardinal and spending more time with him than would have been possible at the ministry.

“Oh Sister, I am so sorry. Satan and more importantly you forgive me!”

Heart dropping to the floor. They were ruined, or somehow they spontaneously combusted. Whatever he was going to tell her happened to them would ruin her life, certainly.

“I have them here,” he gestured to the built in diner style booth the rest of the band was sitting at.

“What?” Clearing her throat after the painfully croaked up whisper she let out.

“I may have um, popped a seam on them,” the Cardinal shyly admitted.

“That’s not the only thing that popped off due to those pants tonight,” someone teased.

“Oh, oh thank Satan I can fix that!”

“I am sorry I did not think to tell you I was taking them back to the bus, Sister.”

Hand pressed against her racing heart as it slowed down to a normal speed, coming down from the stratosphere.

“That’s okay Cardinal, only a minor heart attack was had,” she reassured the poor guilt stricken man. “We can go back into the other room for some privacy when you change back into it for me to fix it.”

“Ah, could it not be fixed while I am not wearing it Sister?”

“It could, but without knowing how much tension the seam should have based on where it broke it’s likely to have issues again. Best to let me see and do an invisible stitch on it.”

“Get it Cardinal,” one of the ghouls whooped.

“Now, Dewdrop no need to be crude. The nice Sister does not need harassment from you over doing her job,” wagging his finger to playfully scold the ghoul.

She really needed to learn how to tell them apart without their instruments when they were all still masked.

“So, I will um see you back there.”

Escaping from the situation by rushing back into the private area at the back of the tour bus, she busied herself with preparing supplies to fix the ripped seam. Distantly hearing something about a booty call followed by laughter from all the ghouls and even the ghoulettes who normally didn’t laugh at more vulgar teasing. It didn’t take long for the Cardinal to join you with a small fond sigh.

“I think they will be making fun of me for a while with this Sister.”

“What did you do, or rather where is this seam Cardinal?”

WIth how the ghouls were carrying on it was likely a crotch seam, but if that had been the case she was sure she would have seen videos by now of the wardrobe malfunction. Along with a dreaded voicemail from Sister Imperator.

With a flourish to try and hide his flustered cheeks he revealed the pants from how he had folded them. Squinting at them she struggled at first to see the issue, until she finally found it. A small opening of just about two inches. Right in the center of where his ass was.

“Small mercies that the tails cover that up, si Sister?” He laughed at himself. “Too much cake Dewdrop and Swiss teased, even though they know I have not had any cake since the party at the start of the tour.”

Smiling at him as he took initiative to get himself dressed for her to get to work. Doing her best to ignore his nudity and not sneak a glance. Something she failed at many times during those quick changes.

“It’s slang, Cardinal. They were saying you have a nice round ass,” pushing herself to voice the thought and live up to her name as a Sister of Sin.

Something that she would seldom do in front of anyone due to how flustered saying such things made her.

He squeaked at her explanation, playfully giving her a scandalized look.

“Sister you can’t say such things before you will be feeling up my ass or we will have a very different seam to start worrying about!”

The two of them broke into giggles together.

“Now turn around and let me see what you managed to do to those sinfully frustrating pants.”

***

The Cardinal wasn’t in the little corner of backstage that had been fashioned into a small dressing room of sorts. Frowning, she strained to listen for anything unusual happening on stage, peaking out of the privacy curtain again for the sixth time. Finally catching sight of a flash of pure white slowly moving towards her. Playfully pulling the curtain back and gesturing him in with a flourish that normally would make him laugh.

He didn’t give even a small giggle. Shoulders slumped as he refused to look at her. What had happened on stage?

“Cardinal?” She slowly asked for an explanation.

“I um, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment Sister... alone.”

Hands drifting up to start to gesture with his words before his face flushed a bright red, rapidly shoving them back down to cover his crotch. His, very well endowed and very clearly excited crotch.

“Oh!”

Now her face matched his in being as hot as hell surely was.

“Just got a bit too into it with the thrusting, you know how it is,” he tried to deflect. “Or well you probably don’t, you uh don’t really have the anatomy that would make this an issue. Oh Satan, I need to stop talking now. Um, shutting my mouth now.”

During his rambling she realized the issue with letting him “take care” of his not so little issue on his own.

“Cardinal, you can’t jerk yourself off.”

Sending you a look of disbelief, “Sister, I have enough time before I’m needed back on stage and no one comes over here other than us, si?”

“You’ll get the costumes messy with your seamen and it will dry before I can clean it. It would never come out of the fabric,” she began to explain. “Even if you did manage to not get the costumes dirty your hands would be a mess and the sound crew would kill you for getting come on the microphone.”

“Shit,” his head was thrown back as he accepted the unfortunate truth you were giving him. “I don’t know how we will get me into that next suit, Sister. It’s just as tight as this one, though at least it will give me some more modesty. I swear this white one is made to be see-through on purpose!”

Begrudgingly he moved his hands away to start removing his top, while she got up close and personal with the source of both of their frustrations. The Cardinal wasn’t wrong. She could see more than just the outline of his thick, heavy cock pressing into the well tailored pants. The light blush pink of his cock tip was just visible to her when only a few inches away from it.

Hands stumbling at first- like the first time she had to help him undress, knowing now that he wore nothing underneath. The moment she yanked his pants down enough his cock sprung from its confinement. Hitting against his stomach. Swallowing the saliva pooling at the sight of such a pretty cock. Butterflies of the best kind taking up residency in her stomach at this soft moan he was muffling with his leather gloves shoved against his mouth. The sensation of the fabric moving across his cock stimulating him further.

“I think you’re right that you will not be fitting that back into pants without some help, Cardinal... I could help,” she tentatively offered.

“Please Sister, do not torture me like this. I cannot take it.”

“I don’t plan to tease, Cardinal. Not enough time for that tonight.”

Trailing a finger tip softly down the length, watching his thighs twitch while he squeaked.

“I sound like one of my rats squeaking for attention,” he whined.

Giving a playful lick to the tip while fishing for an answer, “I need consent from those pretty painted lips before mine get to work.”

She had never been so bold. Yet the pull of lust built up over the weeks made it easy to fall into this confidant role she was playing.

“Please,” he was more breathless than he ever was at the end of the show.

Capturing his cock with her lips, sliding down until she could take no more into her mouth. Sucking in more of him with each moan and whine he ruined his voice with. Hands resting against her hair, so considerate of her comfort that he took no control of her. Choosing instead to help keep her hair from getting in her eyes, letting her work his cock at her own pace.

The sound of the ghoul’s musical dueling creating the perfect rhythm to follow. Humming along lowly to parts to make her Cardinal let out the prettiest of sounds. Making sure to repeat the movements that got her the best reactions. They didn’t have much time. His foot moving to press the tips of his shoes against her clit, just resting with a light pressure that felt so good.

Moving her hands to take advantage of the situation to feel up his ass. So soft, just a perfect ass that she envied. She wanted to use it as a stress ball, indulging in some light squeezes as she forced his cock to tickle her throat. Swallowing down her saliva with his cock. She couldn’t afford to get saliva on the pants pooled around his ankles.

It didn’t take long to solve his “problematic” erection. A few bobs to tickle her throat while looking up at him with watery, pleading eyes made him come undone. Both whining as she attempted to swallow the burst of come flooding her mouth.

Lightly thrusting against his shoes with a small cry of need.

“Shit, so good Sister. Fuck! I need to get back onstage.”

Trying to control her pout was hard as they both rushed to finish dressing him in his next suit. Her consolation prize was him guiding her to lower her head for a soft kiss to the top of her skull.

“Later Sister I promise to live between your glorious thighs all night long like the ghouls have been teasing me for daydreaming about. Give you a little somethin’ something, yeah?”

#cardinal copia x reader #the band ghost

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

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Funky Muguruma Kensei AEIWAM headcanons? Spare serotonins with the blorbos? /j Also what's AEIWAM Mashiro like? She's one of the only characters I genuinely get annoyed by in the canon oof

So the friendship between Kaname and Mashiro is one of my favorite things in the fic so far. Have a spoilerific Scene (Part 1 of ?)

Crickets and Grasshoppers

Scene One of ??? Approximately 7K words Fluff that goes South and won't get (sort of ) better until part 2, warnings for body horror, referenced torture and Emotionally Devastating Betrayal

It was Tuesday November 5th, 1901, Scheduling Day in the Ninth Division and Mashiro was standing in front of the vending machine just down the street from the Ninth, choosing her armaments for the coming battle.

In other divisions, the actual drawing up of rosters was the job of lower-seated officers and the specific parts of the Division they were responsible for. Tousen’s friend Komamura has told her once that the 7th Division’s schedule was so predictable, they only looked at the roster once a year when people retired or were hired. A fascinating concept to Mashiro, who listened to Komamura’s tales of the 7th with the rapt fascination of an anthropologist privileged to hear the folklore of distant and largely unknown people.

The Ninth was… complicated for the sake of simplicity. Information did not move the same way people did, and while the seventh could pass an inbound soul from the Intake Team to Queue Management to the Registry Office, passing an information project from one subdivision to another was a great way to lose said project. So instead of projects moving from subdivision to subdivision as they reached different stages, subdivisions went from stage to stage, following projects.

This meant scheduling had to be done every month, but it beat the hell out of a major archive loss or communications failure.

And it meant that Snackage was in order.

Mashiro surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder to make sure Captain Muguruma was still overseeing drills in the courtyard, then selected 37 cookies, chips, snack cakes, bottles of pop and juice and other goodies from the machine and paid out of the Division Purse.

Kensei, bless him, was a deeply honorable man who was so reliable you could set a watch by him and would probably cross actual Hell to help a friend, but he did not understand scheduling, much less the kind of caloric requirements it held.

-- “You’re just sitting there! What do you need all that for?” He’d asked her once.

“The brain’s the most expensive organ to run in terms of calories.” She’d explained, rolling her eyes and opening a bag of Barbecue-flavored corn chips. “-I know your brain is a plodding cart horse, but you can’t do scheduling. You need my thoroughbred racehorse brain, and it needs snacks!”

He’d given up with a disgusted groan of defeat, which was good, because the other reason she needed the snacks would have actually made him snap. -- Mashiro shoved the snacks into her backpack, checked that Kensei was still distracted by drills, darted back across the street where he might spot her, ran around the back of the division, and jumped up to the third-floor window that had been left open for her.

“The level of subterfuge this perfectly normal administrative process requires…” Fifth-seat Kaname Tousen groaned from where he was lying on the floor, partially under his traditional low desk.

“-Is half the fun, you dork!” Mashiro giggled, closing the window after her as she climbed in. “All the autumn stuff is in the shops and vending machines now, and I made sure to get every persimmon-flavored thing they had just for you!” She grinned down at her chosen assistant for scheduling.

The other purpose for the snacks was Bribery.

Kaname Tousen was, by Mashiro’s estimation, definitely the smartest person in the Ninth Division, and possibly in the entire Soul Society. If the world was a fair place, he’d be lieutenant and she’d be fifth seat, but the world wasn’t a fair place and in the week between Graduation with every honor Shin’o academy had and starting as the 9th Division’s 20th seat, Kaname had been struck down with some sort of horrible spinal infection that damn near killed him, made him miss his entire first month and a half of work, and left him with occasional bouts of crippling pain, like today, when he’d decided to risk worsening Kensei’s already low opinion of him by doing his work lying flat on his back on a hot pad.

Kaname’s services as a Brainiac were much in demand and his availability highly limited, so Mashiro guaranteed her place on his schedule with confection-based compensation.

“I mean, Kensei’s a mean old sack and that’s not great for the division too, but the spy shenanigans and scheduling snacktime really is like, The Highlight Of The Month sometimes.” Mashiro shrugged, flopping down on the floor beside him and dumping the snacks out between them.

“Captain Muguruma’s sense of discipline is intense but very necess- ow. Yeah, that’s not happening.” Kaname sighed, laying back down from trying to sit up. “-He’s a good man. Difficult, sometimes, but a good man.”

“You’re way too nice for your own good. Here’s the Persimmon castella cakes.” Mashiro grunted, handing Kaname the small package and the payroll notes to read.

Kaname groped across his desk for a clipboard, attached the payroll notes to it, propped them up on his stomach so they were balanced on the edge of his desk, and laid all the way back down, face pointed at the ceiling rather than the notes. Mashiro opened up a packet of Amakara rice crackers, watching him with interest as Kaname took off his goggles.

The goggles were what convinced Mashiro he was the smartest man in the Soul Society. Kaname had been born totally blind, but he had figured out how to mount a pair of tiny cameras in the frame of a pair of safety goggles, which were connected to… he’d explained that the little bricks behind the opaque white lenses of his goggles contained something like an obscenely long and complicated Kido spell that spotted readable characters, ‘read’ them, and turned the resulting text into words that played out of the tiny “Microphonogram Speech Players or ‘speakers’ “ hidden in the legs of the goggles. So he could read pretty much anything printed with enough contrast (and decent enough handwriting, Captain Urahara) because his goggles would read it aloud for him. They were much slower than most people read, and sometimes he had to stop work to “charge” the spell that made them work, but they worked a damn treat, and had the added advantage that Kaname himself did not need to be looking at the thing he was trying to read, only the goggles.

So now he unwound the coil of wire that connected the Kido brick to the microphonogram, placed the ‘speaker’ back in his ear, and set the glasses on his chest so he could read the notes while keeping his back and neck pressed to the hotpad.

True Genius, that.

“I love how the cameras wiggle.” Mashiro grinned, watching the two lenses shift and dilate as they focused on the notes. “They move the same way cicadas and grasshoppers shift their eyes independently to focus. It’s so clever to have them operate like that.”

“Hm. That was Kakiyo’s design, not mine.” Kaname smiled. Kakiyo was his adopted and now-deceased sister. “She was always more of an entomologist than me.”

“Weird that you ended up with Suzumushi the cricket for a Zanpaktou then.” Mashiro pondered. She liked Suzumushi- that sword, and her own Musabori Kuu Batta (Devouring Locust) were two of less than One Hundred insect-type Zanpaktou in the court guard, and fewer still that weren’t butterflies. She couldn’t really see Suzumushi- no shinigami could perceive another’s Zanpaktou Spirit- but she could hear Batta’s half of the conversation the two would chirp to each other sometimes.

Kaname paused from opening the persimmon cake packaging with his teeth. “...Yes. Bizarre.” he said, with a rueful finality that Mashiro took as her cue to change the subject.

“Right. Where are we on the Agricultural Practices census?” She sighed, pulling the active projects list and next month’s calendar out in front of her.

“Maegawa-san has requested travel permissions to-” Kaname replied, flipping through the pages, the goggles faintly reading off names as he tracked them with his fingertip. “Ah, ‘pull the damn report out through the East 36th Daimyo’s nose if I have to’, which I think we can call a requisitions expense rather than reconnaissance. Unless you think Lieutenant Fon would enjoy the catharsis as well.”

“She WOULD, actually, that girl is wound tighter than my grandpa’s pocketwatch.” Mashiro nodded, placing the card for “3rd Seat Maegawa” in the “Out Of Office” Pile.

And so it went for a pleasant hour, eating snacks and solving the five-dimensional time, space and payroll puzzle of scheduling, with Kaname helping her keep track of the process and who was not supposed to be doing overtime or couldn’t be trusted to work with someone else or on maternity leave or whatever.

“Alright, I think that’s nearly everyone sorted…” Mashiro muttered, going down the list of all 200 division members to make sure they’d made it onto the roster. “Oh wait, we didn’t put you down!” She giggled.

“I believe my schedule should be identical to last months while we are still doing data entry into the archives, but I do have a request- May I have this coming Friday off?” he asked. “I have an engagement.”

“Who’s getting engaged?” Mashiro teased, erasing him from the roster that day.

Kaname tilted his head a bit, pointing his ear at her with a conspiratorial smirk. “...Can you keep a secret?”

Mashiro blinked at him in surprise, then gasped with delight and leaned in “Cross my heart and hope to die!” She whispered back, giggling.

Kaname regarded her for a moment, teasing. “Love- Captain Aikawa has finally worked up the nerve to propose to Lieutenant Yadomaru.”

Mashiro made a noise like an asthmatic teakettle as she tried to not shriek with delight and deafen Kaname as well, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs in the air with excitement.

“-He wants it to be a surprise though, and Lisa is always going through his bag for his water bottle or whatever at kendo practice and she will notice if his schedule changes, so I need to duck out during lunch today and pick up the ring for him to propose with on Friday.” Kaname elaborated.

“A conspiracy!” Mashiro balled her fists with excitement. “When? Where? Can I come?”

“You got an invitation to Captain Kyoraku’s next moon-viewing party, right?” Kaname asked and she nodded. “It’s then.”

“EEEK!” Mashiro giggled with delight.

“What’re you two giggling about?” Kensei grunted from the doorway, still sweaty from training.

“It’s a SECRET!” Mashiro glared imperiously, sweeping the snack wrappers out of sight off the desk as Kaname sat up with a small grunt of pain and bowed his head in salute.

“Whatever.” Kensei rolled his eyes. “Tousen. Read your report on the dodgy census statistics and possible disappearances in West 66 and I think you’re right. Something stinks on ice out there.”

Kaname gasped sharply with relief and bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I gotta attend a captain’s meeting this afternoon because Urahara has some harebrained new project to show and tell-” Kensei continued, glaring at his battered fingertips where he’d caught a bokto the wrong way during training. “-Saw that Maegawa is gonna be in East 36 and Fukuda’s on maternity leave, so I’m sending every seated officer from you to 15th seat Shizawa out there to investigate and deal with it. You all need to be at the Kido Corps for teleportation at three. Mashiro, don’t burn the place down.”

“OH COME ON!” Mashiro shouted with disappointment.

“HEY! No backtalk! I know you wanna go but someone’s gotta hold the fort-” Kensei glared down at her.

“It’s not me! Kaname has to- I mean-” She sputtered, abruptly remembering his request for secrecy.

“It’s alright!” Kaname tried to smile but ended up grimacing at her as he got up. “I’ll just go get it now and it’ll be in my pocket when I get back!”

Mashiro glared at him for a moment, but sat back down. “Okay. I guess.” She pouted.

“Get what?” Asked Kensei.

“A surprise for Captain Kyoraku’s moon-veiwing party!” Kaname grinned at him as he collected his belongings into his satchel by touch.

Kensei pondered that for a long moment, glaring at Kaname. “...How’d you score an invite?”

“Captain Aikawa invited me along.” Kaname explained over Mashiro’s offended scoff. “We were roommates when we were at the academy and he has very kindly kept inviting me along to things despite my not really being able to keep up with him anymore.”

Kensei regarded him a moment longer. “Huh.” he eventually decided. “Well, see you when you get back from the investigation.” He waved, dismissing Tousen.

“Thank you Sir. Lieutenant Kuna.” Kaname bowed before jogging off.

“See you later Kaname-kun!” Mashiro called after him.

“-Even if he won’t technically see yo- OW!” Kensei yelped as Mashiro clipped him sharply under the ear.

“Why are you so MEAN to him!?” Mashiro glared up at her captain as he rubbed his jaw.

“I’m not mean! I’m just- it’s just office banter!” Kensei growled back. “I can just not like a guy and still be colleagues with him, okay?”

“No, apparently you can’t!” Mashiro “You’ve been really hard on him and getting on his case and teasing him since day one!”

“-More like day thirty-two, he missed the first six weeks of his appointment.” Kensei grumbled.

“That was literally FIFTY years ago and he was in the HOSPITAL. BECAUSE HE NEARLY DIED!” She bellowed, probably loud enough for Kaname to hear in the street but it didn’t matter. “Yeah, it sucked, but it wasn’t his fault! I don’t get why you were mad at him back then, and I really don’t get why you’re still mad about it NOW!”

“I’M NOT MAD ABOUT THAT, I JUST-” Kensei bellowed back but then stopped, hand over his mouth. “...He keeps secrets.”

Mashiro stared at him blankly for a moment, face slowly collapsing from bewilderment into disgust. “OH. MY GOD. You’re the one always going on about operational security! He’s just careful- all the details are in his summarial reports, if you ever read them…”

“I do!” Kensei barked. “And they’re- I mean, All the information he’s required to fill out is there, and then some.” He sputtered, deflating.

Mashiro leaned in close, eyebrow cocked at him.

“...But I keep getting this feeling it’s not the whole picture.” Kensei muttered.

“Ugh!” Mashiro shouted, throwing her hands up and turning away. “So you don’t like him because you have bad reading comprehension?”

“Shut up! I don’t- there’s just something off about that guy! He’s always taking weird days off-” Kensei started, ticking off a list on his fingers.

“You mean the sick days from his spinal infection?” Mashiro glared, arms folded across her chest.

Kensei continued to count his grievances “-and taking secret calls in weird corners-!”

“You mean privately scheduling his medical treatment? For his spinal infection?” Mashiro continued to glare.

“-And getting him to go to the fifth or third division is like pulling teeth! What the hell is up with that?” Kensei demanded.

“You mean the divisions that have A) Lieutenant Iba, the woman who has a weird horoscope-based personal grudge against him-” Mashiro asked, mimicking Kensei’s earlier counting, “-and B) Lieutenant Aizen, who also keeps forgetting he has a spinal injury and slaps Kaname across the shoulders every time they meet? Yeah, I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid two of the most annoying people in the whole court guard!”

“Whatever.” Kensei waved her off. “I’m still right. There’s something off with him. Now get that roster updated and posted!”

“Yes, sir.” Mashiro groaned, rolling her eyes at him and stomping back to Kaname’s office for the Roster.

***

Kaname hadn’t felt this light in years.

Oh god.

Oh, GOD!

Please, please, please please let this be happening?

He sprinted down the road, back towards the apartment that he and Sajin shared, the small box with Love’s ring in his chest pocket. He allowed himself an ounce of elation- After all, I am just a young man who has picked up the engagement ring of one of his best friends! It is exactly what anyone would expect to see-

That was the tricky part of The Curse.

He couldn’t talk about it, like many curses, but it had the added complication that anyone who looked at him- or listened to him, or put their hands on him, or-

Well, they’d only find what they expected to find.

Certainly not a curse.

But curses cut both ways- The broader and less specific a command for someone bearing a curse was, the harder it was to enforce, and it was harder to come up with a command broader and more open to interpretation than “Help Me Kill God”. So as long as Kaname could argue to the curse that an action did “help” some aspect of Aizen’s plans, he could be inefficient, neglect to mention something important, do an assigned task sloppily, fail to cover his tracks and so on- Sometimes Other times, the curse would take effect and cripple him until he relented and obeyed Aizen’s command again. Or at least, managed to convince Aizen he was doing what Aizen wanted.

Aizen hadn’t quite realized it, but he was also subject to his own illusions, and there was a gap- a mirror image, if Kaname understood mirrors correctly- so long as he appeared as Aizen expected, Aizen wouldn’t notice him sabotaging Aizen’s machinations. So for the last three years, Kaname had done his best to appear tired and overworked and failing from exhaustion rather than malice, or like he was starting to agree with Aizen, which is exactly what the narcissist expected after fifty years of mental, physical and spiritual torture.

It was finally paying off.

He’d managed to make the kidnappings Aizen and Gin had been conducting on the villagers of West 56 appear by conducting a census that showed the discrepancy of expected versus actual population. -And made sure the increased hollow activity in the area from Aizen’s experiments showed up in the 10th Division’s monitoring statistics. - And the weird waves of reiatsu visible on the 12th’s monitoring equipment- not what people expected to see, but by keeping all the evidence noticed by unrelated parties, he kept it out of the scope of Aizen’s Illusions.

Kyoga Suigetsu took a lot of energy to operate, and Tousen was pretty sure Aizen could only passively fool about 150 at a time- he chose mostly his own division and people he saw daily, like his neighbors and cross-division colleagues, and could only actively alter the reality of maybe 20 people at once- the other captains and a few key would-be witnesses. So a rural census-taker, and two members at the bottom ranks of other divisions weren’t actively subject to the illusion.

He had to do it on faith, that someone would notice-

Kaname felt like he’d been holding his breath for weeks now, doing his best to tell Aizen and the constantly-itching nails in his spine that this was a Perfectly Normal Database Cross-referencing project- very boring, but it will be missed if it’s not done, Lord Aizen- and nothing to draw attention to the horrible Laboratory…

…By some miracle, Mugurama had read the report, understood and believed it- Kensei had a naturally suspicious mind, so Kaname made sure the report was full of “It's entirely possible this is all a weird coincidence!” to make him suspicious. The curse only showed people what they expected to see, and for once, Kensei’s natural pessimistic expectations allowed him to see the truth.

24 hours. That’s all I have left.

The only people in the Ninth Aizen had under his Active Influence were Kensei and Mashiro, so he wouldn’t be able to hide the nature of the laboratory from the investigation team without dropping the Active Illusion on someone else and risk discovery- and so long as Aizen didn’t find out about the expedition, he wouldn’t know to make that shift in time.

24 hours. I only need to keep Aizen distracted for 24 hours.

In Aizen’s personal quarters, The Distraction Apparatus waited.

Aizen was mistaken to force Kaname to do his lab work for him- Kaname understood it better than him now, and had pulled aside a little trick to confuse him. The Hogyoku bonded with its user, almost like a zanpaktou, and communicated with them- it purred when Aizen fed it, and whined when it was hungry. Aizen knew about Suzumushi’s Bankai- he’d insisted Kaname develop it under his supervision, so he would know of all Kaname’s abilities. But he only knew it from the inside, and hadn’t realized that not only was anyone inside blind, deaf and without any form of sensory input, neither could anyone on the outside sense anyone within. It was worth it to break Suzumushi like that. It was actually her idea, to break the guard of his Zanpaktou and separate the ring from it. That’s where the Bankai was stored, and with a hell of a lot of practice, he’d learned to cast it remotely.

It had been months before he had an opportunity- Kaname would never forgive what had been done to that poor angel, but during one of the The Sessions where Aizen was using the Hogyoku to change the angel, Kaname was able to get ahold of the little Illusion box Aizen kept the infernal device in, Secure Suzumushi’s ring to the floor, disguise the tampering with a false floor, and return the box to it’s place without Aizen’s notice. The Ring had been waiting there for months.

24 hours, and the secret will be out.

He’d memorized Aizen’s schedule- in 22 minutes Aizen would be entering the reiatsu-locked laboratory of the 12th with his own Captain Shinji for Kisuke’s Demonstration, and would not be able to feel Kaname activate his Bankai. When he came back out, it would seem like the Hogyoku had vanished. And for all Aizen would be able to tell, it had- he wouldn’t be able to perceive the Hogyoku or it’s illusion box until Kaname released his Bankai.

So for now, Kaname acted exactly like Aizen would expect him to act- a little tired, a lot in pain, but elated that two of his best friends were getting engaged, and that he’d be able to help. That was a natural source of excitement, and definitely not any kind of counter conspiracy-

Kaname jogged down the stairs to the apartment, ring box in his pocket, heart hammering, hands shaking a bit as he took out the keys to unlock his door, grabbed the knob that was not there and was suddenly off balance and falling- Into something soft and steady that carefully picked him up like a child’s doll and set him back on his feet, gently taking his hands.

“Are you alright?” Sajin asked, soft, deep voice tinged with concern. “My apologies, I was just trying to do some house cleaning while the weather is mild and had the door open for ventilation.”

“Y- yeah! I’m. I’m alright. Just- distracted. I’ve had some good news!” He grinned up at his friend.

“Oh?” Sajin asked, tugging lightly at Kaname’s fingertips to indicate he should step inside. “Mind your way, I have all the chairs out in the living room so I can sweep.”

They had been living in this garden-level apartment for the forty years since Sajin had followed Kaname into the court guard, and under the same roof at the Akaido City Library for many years before that, and their domestic arrangements settled into a comfortable and comforting routine- Kaname was incapable of seeing grime, so Sajin did the housekeeping, and Sajin would eat raw, expired meat if left unattended, so Kaname did the cooking and shopping.

Kaname followed his lead, hand reflexively on Sajin’s instinctively proffered arm to keep balance while he unbuckled and took off his boots- the gestures of proximal intimacy had calcified into a secret language between them.

“Thanks-” Kaname stood up and stepped in with a guiding hand on the wall. He could normally navigate the apartment by memory alone. “-I’m only here for a few minutes, I’ve also got a deployment I need to pack for.”

“Deployment?” Sajin asked, following after him, voice slightly muffled from the cloth mask he wore over his face- at least when the door was open. Being mostly underground had it’s advantages- Kaname didn’t need much light and Sajin possessed almost superhuman darkvision, and the small, high windows that were obscured by bushes gave them enough Privacy that Sajin could relax and keep his face bare at home.

24 hours.

Maybe. Maybe when it all came out, and the dust settled--Assuming they don’t hang me alongside Aizen, which was a big If--But once it was all said and done and I still draw breath- Maybe I will have the courage to ask Sajin what it is he feels he needs to hide.Surely, he is far too gentle to be half so monstrous as he claims.

“Kaname?” Sajin prompted, and Kaname realized he’d been silent for nearly a minute. “S-sorry. I just. Captain Muguruma finally read my report on West 66 and ordered and immediate investigation, so I have to be at the Kido corps by three-” “Kaname.” “Ah, No don’t worry, I’ll get dinner prepared so you only have to put it under the broiler, and There’s um-” “Kaname.”

“-I’ll be back by Friday for Love and Lisa’s- Right- Here, I need you to-” He sputtered, dozens of ideas baying for his attention at once, patting his chest for the ring box- “Kaname!” Sajin snapped, and his giant hands were on Kaname’s shoulders again, turning him around in place to face his friend, gloved hand suddenly under his chin, holding his face up for Sajin to glare at. “...When was the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine!” Kaname tried to jerk back, laughing defensively.

“You’ve gone to bed after me and gotten up before me, if you went to bed at all for at least a week, and I’m doing maximum overtime. You don't have bags so much as matched luggage under your eyes and can’t finish a sentence coherently. You’re not touching anything in the kitchen.” Sajin rattled off, giving Kaname’s chin a light shake. “...it’s not yet eleven, and the Kido Corps is less than ten minutes from here. I’ll see to your packing. Lie down. Please.”

Kaname sighed, shoulders slumping. “Sajin, I- I need to-”

“You need. To sleep.” Sajin rumbled, no room in his voice for argument.

Kaname panted for a moment, realizing that if Sajin wasn’t holding him in place he’d be swaying with exhaustion.

24 hours.

…I can spend one or two of them resting.

If I don’t manage to prove my innocence, I’ll want to have at least this to think about on the gallows.

“...Stay with me until I fall asleep?” Kaname asked, voice soft. “It’s just. It’s been a lot.” “Of course.” Sajin hummed, rubbing his cheek. “I also need to, ah- use facilities, first.” he grimaced, and Sajin let him go.

“I’m coming in after you if I think you’ve passed out on the floor.” Sajin threatened.

“That happened ONE TIME-!” Kaname protested, following the wall to the bathroom.

Once inside, he checked the time again.

If the meeting had stuck to schedule, they should be inside the 12th’s labs now.

Kaname sent Aizen a test message to his Soul Pager.

> Mandatory Status Report: Muguruma handed me a sudden assignment. Won’t be back until Friday.

If he was outside the Reiatsu-locked lab, that missive would have Aizen furiously calling him in under five minutes. He timed it, relieving himself and washing his hands as he waited-

Nothing.

“Here goes…” he muttered, hoping the sound of the bathroom fan and the running water would cover his voice. He focused, feeling the silver ring start to rotate in his mind, the way it multiplied and stretched, the rings dancing a circle on that which needed to be concealed-

“-Bankai.” He whispered, skin tingling-

-And suddenly he was keenly aware of the hogyoku and it’s illusion box, as though he were holding it, both wholly contained and hidden by his Bankai.

It is done The distraction is set. In a few hours, all will be revealed to the rest of the court guard. There. All I need to do now was follow the assignment like I was told and investigate the- the-

-He suddenly he felt the Bankai’s draw on his power and he collapsed over the sink, retching and knees shaking with how weak he felt. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and almost tasted like vinegar in the back of his mind, high-pitched ringing between his ears.

The nails sizzled ominously but there was no power behind it- It’s alright- I can- I can deal with this. Just breathe, come on dumbass, you just need to keep breathing for another 24 hours.

“Kaname? Sajin called.

“Nothing broke!” Kaname called back, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling back against the wall. He tested the Bankai again- It holds. Very convenient of you Suzumushi, that I only need to cast and feed it, rather than concentrate…

Suzumushi chriped distractedly, her focus on maintaining the Bankai. With her concentration, the illusion would hold even as he slept. Cold water on his face and neck, trying to make himself vaguely presentable and the room stop spinning as he stumbled out- oh, Sajin is right here, how thoughtful of him…

“It’s alright, just follow me…” Sajin soothed, guiding him along to the Thick Futon and large collection of pillows they used as a couch- nothing with legs would bear Sajin’s weight for long. He allowed Sajin to pull him down, settling beside Kaname until he was wedged between Sajin’s giant body and the collection of cushions, head on his friend’s chest, listening to his heartbeat- A little slower than mine, and steady- always so steady- so-

Kaname was asleep before he completed the thought.

---

Scene two: 23 hours later

“It’s just up this way Mister Shinigami!” The boy said, his hot little hand pulling Kaname along.

They’d gotten to West 66 and Kaname had realized he’d been wrong to worry about looking like he already knew the way to the Laboratory- Iruka Village had taken some fairly extreme defensive measures against the kidnappings since the last time he’d been forced out here- Barricades errected, bridges taken out, and even the road torn up and replanted to hide the route to the village. Kaname was entirely turned around before they even set foot in the Village and started asking the peasants if there was anything unusual nearby.

Fortunately for the expediency of the investigation, one Young Shuuhei Hisagi was extremely eager to help, giving them a detailed accounting of the strange activities at the old foundry, where someone had turned one of the kiln’s back on and there was “An ‘lectric” generator and it smelled a lot like someone was cooking rancid pork but he’d never seen anybody there, even when he went into the basement because he wasn’t ascared of it, weird that there’s a basement, nobody makes basements here as it’s a swamp-

Kaname felt his skin go cold when he realized the boy had somehow gotten inside and made notes and even poked some of the machinery, but given he hadn’t tried to actually chew Kaname’s arm off as he lead the Ninth Division Investigation team to the Lab, he was probably uncontaminated…

“There’s a hill an’ it’s on the other side- mind the branch.” Young Shuuhei was one of the great tragedies of the poor parts of the Rukongai- whip-smart and observant and thoughtful, but illiterate from the lack of teachers, and likely destined for an early grave if the statistical average lifespan out here held true. His Reiryoku shimmered at the edges- with a little training and a better diet he might even make for a good Shinigami.

Maybe if I live through this I can get him a scholarship. Kaname mused, trying to think about literally anything but the nauseating familiarity of the smell creeping over the hill.

“Mr. Hisagi?” he asked in the polite voice he’d cultivated as the Head Librarian to indicate to children he was taking them very seriously.

The Boy snapped to attention. “Sir?”

“Thank you for leading us here, but I absolutely cannot allow you any closer. It’s extremely dangerous here-” he started to explain.

“I been in before! An’ the door’s trickylike you gotta pull the handle up and in and rattle it to get in and then prop somethin’ in the gap or it locks back behind you-” Shuuhei explained, gesturing like Kaname could see him demonstrating.

“-And you were lucky to get out in one piece! I also need you to do a very important job.” Kaname sighed, familiar with this kind of kid- slightly too bright and kind-hearted for his own good, but reliable at a task- “-I can hear that some of your friends have followed us from the village. They’re about a quarter mile behind us-”

“Dangit Suichi-!” Shuuhei muttered under his breath. “-Yeah that’s probably my little brother and his friends. You want me to go chase him back home?”

“Precisely. Also, tell everyone to get indoors and stay put until they get an all-clear. Just in case something goes wrong, I need everyone to stay safe until re-enforcements arrive. So go get everyone back home and inside, alright?” “Yessir!” Shuuhei snapped a salute and Kaname heard some of the other Shinigami giggle behind him.

“I’m glad I can rely on you.” He nodded, and shooed Shuuhei down the road. The boy took off, hollering for his brother.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids.” Laughed Sixth Seat Todo Izaemon. “Cute little thing too-”

“Being in charge of the West 51 Children’s Intensive Literacy School teaches you how to get along with them.” He shrugged. “Alright, I can’t sense anything, but that doesn’t mean danger is not present. Even numbered seats- go west and approach from the north. Odd numbers, we go east and approach from the south.”

“Sir!” Izaemon nodded, the next ranked officer.

Kaname approached the building at a crouch, straining to hear- the brief nap Sajin had insisted on and six-pack of illicitly acquired 4th Division “Stamina Supplements” were doing what they could for him, but everything hurt and Suzumushi’s Bankai was even more draining than he’d anticipated and he could barely sense more than a few feet around him. But he found the door- Shuuhei was right, the Handle was starting to go out of alignment- Up and in, right? Yeah- and when nothing behind it exploded, he cautiously stepped in.

“Nobody ran out our side Sir!” Izaemon called and Kaname acknowledged him with a nod.

“What the hell IS this place?” Seventh-seat Akishita asked, looking around the room. This was the main floor of the laboratory, where the bulk of Aizen’s butchery was done- the whole place reeked of rotting flesh and sulfur- byproducts of the ‘Hollowfication Process’, and Kaname very nearly tripped on a groove gashed into the floor that hadn’t been there last time.

“That looks like an office or control room up there-” Kaname said, pointing to the partial second story that took up the west third of the building that he REALLY hoped was still there. “-Akishita, with me. Lets see if there’s a schematic or something.”

“Sir!” She agreed.

Oh good, it is still there. He thought, trying to not pant with pain- oh god, his eyes were burning and spine felt like it was actively dissolving he was so TIRED- He touched his watch, checking the time again.

24 minutes. Come on, just a little more-

He got to the door at the top of the stairs, Akishita behind him.

“Are you alright Sir?” She asked.

“What?” He jerked towards her.

“You seem… really off today.” She frowned. He could sense the shape of her this close, and the way her hand on the hilt of her Zanpaktou. Maybe just resting, maybe not.

“I- I haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares.” He gulped. That was actually entirely true. Still the nails sizzled louder and he winced. “-I -I might need to put in for sick leave when we get back.”

“You really should. You look awful.” She nodded, hand off the hilt.

Kaname nodded, and carefully opened the door into the control room. He felt Akishita turn, making sure nothing unexpected followed them as he stepped in- no traps, but a strange sort of coldness- not a draft, like a there was a block of ice in here-

The door slammed shut behind him.

“Heya Goggles!” a boy’s voice drawled behind him.

-Or a snake.

Kaname froze, skin going cold as Akishita called for him from the other side of the door.

“Gin?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“She’s right, you look like shit!” the boy laughed, activating a Kido seal that barricaded them in the room. “-Boss sent me to talk to you because the CRAZIEST thing happened at the Captain’s meeting this morning!”

“-Please tell me Urahara’s latest crime against nature maimed him? I could use some good news.” Kaname groaned, complaining like usual, like nothing was wrong. There was more shouting from the main floor. He braced himself, feet under his shoulders, feeling Gin’s aura twist as he decided on an angle to strike from.

“Oh nah, Aizen-sama is wrapping things up and planting evidence over at the 12th right now, that’s why I’m here!” Gin laughed. “No, Your Boss Muguruma stopped everyone before Urahara’s demonstration to tell everyone about this report you submitted sayin’ several hundred people had vanished in West 66! The other haoris were all horrified, I tell ya- Captain Hirako just about shit bricks! Hollerin’ Aizen-sama’s ear off about it the whole way back to the fifth!”

Kaname gripped Suzumushi’s hilt.

“Oh now don’t be unfriendly! I even got somethin’ for ya!” Gin laughed, and tossed something his way. Knowing better than to catch anything he threw, Kaname waited for it to hit the floor-

PING!

-Stomach turning over as he recognized the metallic chime of Suzumishi’s ring.

“Neat trick by the way- Aizen must have spent ten hours turning over the fifth looking for the Hogyoku!!” Gin laughed. “-He didn’t actually find it neither, if it’s any consolation. But he has me, and I got…Abilities.” The boy leered as Kaname Swiped the ring from the ground- Suzumushi had been strangely quiet, and only now did he realize that at some point the sensory illusion of his Bankai had been reversed. Louder yelling from the main floor and the sound of Akishita preparing a Hakudo Kido to blow the door in on the other side.

“-Shit.” Kaname growled, reconnecting the ring to the hilt, Suzumushi whimpering in pain.

“Madder than a mosquito in a mannequin factory he is!” Gin chuckled, then surged forward. Even on a good day, Gin was nearly impossible to block and tonight-

“-Sorry goggles, but I got orders. Rikujokoru!” he hissed fingertips on kaname's sternum, and Kanane was slammed to the ground, six beams of Kido energy hitting his middle, paralyzing him completely. “Aizen-sama says if you can get outta this and get home you can live, but if I’m honest, I don’t really like your odds-” Gin explained, walking over to the control panel and flicking it on, the machines whirring to life and something rumbling beneath them.

…Basement. Kaname realized. The boy said there was a basement- there wasn’t one last time?

There was a loud hissing as vents opened and gas streamed out of the floor into the main room, the sickening scent of rotting fruit comingled with melting plastic- The Hollowfication Compound? It’s a gas now!?

The shouting turned to screaming.

Oh God.

The screaming turned to roaring.

Oh god, no. Please-

“- 'Specially not now.” Gin leered, patting him on the shoulder as he turned to leave. “Bye-Bye! See you tomorrow-! …Maybe.”

Kaname could hear Gin leaving out the small fire window up at the roofline and he struggled, concentrating his reiatsu in his mouth to speak the counterspell- “-Horses of wind and gale, river of thread-

-Akishita screamed in the hall, and there was the terrible wet sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones-

“- By Shadow and storm, unbind me!” He hissed, and the spell dissipated with the loud sound of shattering glass. Kaname scrambled to his feet, standing up in time to feel the gaze of ten newly-turned hollows fall upon him. His watch pulsed against his wrist, the timer for 24 hours Going off.

“Well. I did say it would be over one way or another, didn’t I?” He grimaced, drawing Suzumushi as his former colleagues charged the plate glass that separated them.

---

Part two approximately whenever I finish it :)

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #kaname tosen #Kaname Tousen #mashiro kuna #kensei muguruma #Sosuke Aizen #gin ichimaru #Bleach #bleach fanfiction

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