#and the lights and candles are just enough to make the floor warmer and the gold on the walls glow

[artemisbarnowl]

I'm not showing you but I think my yoga studio is one of the most beautiful places in the world

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, sex, p in v, swearing, virgin reader, first time, awkwardness, Lucifer being awkward, fluff, relationship are hard sometimes that’s why communication is key, romance isn’t dead, Lucifer and his oral fixation, wholesome smut, they are in love your honour.

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After his little chat with Asmodeus and his subsequent awaking to what had actually been going on over the past couple of months Lucifer had every intention of sitting you down so he could apologise for his poor behaviour and reassure you that he was very much interested in what you were offering. That had been the plan anyway but unfortunately things just hadn’t gone his way and Lucifer had been forced to spend the last three day refereeing the ongoing argument between Asmodeus and Mammon as they bickered over the little clown imp they both had their eye on. It had been a headache inducing mess, one that had ended with Lucifer snapping at the embodiment of greed, his horns and tale making an appearance when he had missed yet another call from you.

He was beyond glade it was over with, and Lucifer had barely even managed to say goodbye to Asmodeus before he was teleporting home, appearing in his lobby and just about ready to hide away in his work room until he could stomach being social again. Maybe with an exception or two. Lucifer would very much like to waist a couple of days curled up with you on the sofa as well as having the chance to catch up with Charlie. He could always invite Charlie over for afternoon tea and a chat, maybe even invite Vaggie along as well. Considering she was the love of Charlie’s life he really hadn’t spent enough time getting to know her. Plus, she was an angel, so they already had something in common. Though maybe not the best thing to bond over considering neither of them was likely to want to talk about that aspect of their lives. Maybe you could come along as well and after Charlie and Vaggie had gone the two of you could actually have that conversation about what you wanted from the other physically that you probably should of had a month or so ago.  With a plan in mind Lucifer had planned on going straight to bed when he got in but apparently, he wasn’t the only one with plans for his evening. 

He knew something was off the moment he appeared in the lobby, the small space feeling warmer than normal and smelling faintly like apple pie. When he opens his eyes it’s to find candles scattered across every surface, the yellow flames glowing warmly and casting long shadows up the walls. The floor is scattered with petals, the light of the candles making them shimmer like an oil spill. Confused Lucifer eyes the trail of petals and candles suspiciously calling out a tentative “hello?” in the hopes of getting an answer for the unusual décor. There comes no answer but the floorboards above creak, letting him know that he’s not alone in the house. 

With a frown and a huff Lucifer followed the trail of petals and candle light down the hall and up the stairs, going as slowly and lightly as he can as not to make a sound. Logically he knows that no one down here can hurt him, not unless they had some form of angelic weaponry but that was unlikely considering they were still a rare and expensive commodity despite the amount of angels that had met their end down here over the eons. That doesn’t stop him from being cautious though. Just because a knife to the chest won’t kill him doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt and despite his reputation amongst the living Lucifer isn’t really that into the whole pain and torture thing. It doesn’t really occur to him that it could be someone he knows who is responsible for the moody and romantic vibe. Even as he steps onto the landing and finds the trail leading to his bathroom door Lucifer doesn’t consider it, that is not till he’s stood in front of closed door and reading the note that had been stuck to the wood with a little duck shaped pin.

His hand trembled a little as he reaches up to take it down, tears clinging to his lashes as his heart swells with the love he had for you. He reads it twice, eyes dragging across the page slowly because he can’t quite believe what he’s reading. You wanted to take care of him, worried that he had been overdoing it the last couple of days and knowing full well he wouldn’t look after himself. You had given him strict instructions to relax, insisting that he spend at least an hour in the bath and that he not think about anything work related. That had him laughing, wiping away his tears as he imagined you stood there with your arms crossed over your chest and looking at him expectantly, your little lamb ears completely ruining the stern look you were going for. Adorably cute and just begging to kissed. 

He couldn’t believe you had done this for him. Yes, the candles and petals seemed a bit over the top, but Lucifer liked it all the same. It must have taken you a while to set it all up and his heart feels like it might burst when he realises what that means about how you must feel about him. Surely if you didn’t love him then you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths? And if you were doing romantic things like this then that meant he hadn’t messed up as badly as he had feared. 

Oh. 

You were wooing him! The realisation had Lucifer feeling giddy, practically bouncing in place he was so excited. He had never been wooed before. Yes, Lilith had loved him, had told him often and never denied him any physical displays of affection but she had never been one for grand displays or romantic gestures. That had been Lucifers thing, always the one showing up with gifts or ridiculously large bouquets of flowers. He was the one who made romantic dinners for the two of them, the one who would run her baths and brush her hair whilst telling her how beautiful she was, how he loved and adored her. He had done the wooing, not the other way round but now? Knowing that you were doing something special for him? Lucifer hadn’t felt this loved and cherished since, well, not for a very long time and he wasn’t really sure what to expect when he opened the door. 

He knew what he would do if it was him doing the romancing, had done it enough for Lilith before that it seemed like a logical conclusion that you would be waiting for him inside. Maybe he would catch you leant over the bath, fingers testing the water temperature and smiling ever so sweetly over your shoulder at him. Maybe you would be perched on the edge of the tub, waiting patiently for him to come to you and place a kiss upon your lips. Or maybe, just maybe you would already be in the bath, the bubbles keeping you hidden from him until he had stripped naked and sunk into the water with you. They’re all welcomed scenarios and Lucifer finds himself holding his breath as he slowly pushes the door open, leaning around it in an attempt to see what it was hiding from him.  

You are not in the bath, not in the room at all but what there are is more petals scattered across the tiled floor, candles placed on every available surface and giving the room a warm and inviting glow. The bath tub is full, steam curling up from the red bubbles and carrying with it the smell of cinnamon and clove. There’s a small table next to the bathtub, a small selection of candles sat on top of it along with a couple of bottles of toiletries. Bottles that hadn’t been in his house that morning when he left. The whole room looks like a scene from a romance novel, inviting Lucifer in and offering him something that he had never thought he would get to experience for himself. Yes, he is disappointed you aren’t there to share in it with him but after his behaviour these last few months he isn’t surprised that you are keeping your distance. Oh well, Lucifer will follow your orders, planning on luxuriating in the warm waters of his freshly drawn bath and then he would look for you, hopeful that you were still somewhere within his home and not having snuck back to the hotel whilst he was preoccupied. He had a lot to thank you for and didn’t feel like waiting till morning to do so. 

With a smile still firmly in place Lucifer followed the trail of petals over the vanity, already pulling off his jacket and eyeing his bath excitedly only to be brought to a sudden stop when his foot hits something soft and squishy. Frowning Lucifer looked down, stepping back slightly so he could get a better look at what he had trodden on. Two sets of black beady eyes stare lifeless back at him from within a round yellow face. Ducks. He’s looking down at ducks. Two large squishy duck plushies with holes in their backs. Are they slippers? Confused Lucifer went to bend down and pick one up, placing his hand in the counter for balance except his hand didn’t touch the cool marble it should have. Instead his fingers sank into something soft and fluffy, Lucifer turning his head to see what it was only to come face to face with even more ducks except these ones are printed onto a deep blue fabric, the space in between decorated with little white stars that seemed to sparkle in the candle light. 

Abandoning his original task Lucifer stood back up, frowning down at the neatly folded fabric and the small white card that sat on top, his name scrawled in your familiar font on the front. Turns out they were a gift for him, a set of matching flannel pyjamas and plushie slippers for him to change into after his bath. Lucifer had stood there for a long few minutes, card in hand and staring down at his rubber ducky slippers trying not to cry because of how happy he felt. 

It had been centuries since Lucifer had been gifted anything. Yes, he had received bribes and sacrificial offerings but that wasn’t the same. This was heartfelt, picked specifically because of who he was as a person and not because of his status. A part of him does question how you could afford the obvious expensive items because he knows that Charlie doesn’t pay you for the work you do at the hotel, but he squashes that down quickly deciding that it wasn’t important. He knew you, knew that however you had come to possess them it wouldn’t have been by nefarious means. Plus, he’s too happy to care. Not only had you arranged a candle lit bath for him, but you had also given him a gift. There was no doubt in his mind you were trying to woo him now, Lucifer feeling giddy and excited for what would come next. But first, he had a rather lovely bubble bath to sink into. 

He makes sure they are folded nicely, slippers tucked in against the vanity before he starts removing his clothes. He’s quick but methodical about it, removing one item after another and folding them neatly so he can stack them next to the pyjamas. His shoes get tucked under the unit next to his new slippers, his cane clipped onto the hook on the side and his hat placed gently atop the hat stand towards the back. Once naked Lucifer runs his hand over the soft fabric once more before turning and heading to the bath. 

The groan Lucifer makes as he sinks down into the warm spice scented water sounds practically sinful, but he doesn’t think he would have been able to contain it even if he had tried. It feels amazing, the water almost instantly soothing his aching muscles and helping him to relax. He doesn’t know what you had put in the water but whatever it was surely had to be made of magic of some kind because Lucifer doesn’t think he had ever felt this light and boneless before, just drifting peacefully as the warmth from the water seeped into his very core and left him feeling like he was floating on a cloud. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you that had done this for him that makes it feel a thousand times better than it ever had before. Magic or love? Maybe they were one and the same, intertwined so closely that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Lucifer couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he felt happy and loved and that was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

He sits there for what feels like hours, mind blessedly calm and the water never getting cold. It’s only then, as he truly relaxes, that Lucifer hears it. The soft sound of music comes from his adjoining bedroom, the gentle mix of piano and violin creeping through the gaps under the door, hauntingly beautiful and painfully familiar even though Lucifer can’t quite recall where he had heard it before. He doesn’t remember if it had been playing the whole time and his breath catches at the thought of you being in his bedroom. So close yet hidden from him. He wants to call out to you, see if you will answer but he also doesn’t want to break this strange spell he finds himself under. Nor does he want to ruin something you must of worked so hard on. So, Lucifer stays quite, eyes slipping closed as he sinks further into the hot water and lets everything that had been weighing him down go, giving in to the tranquil bliss you had gifted him. 

Lucifer doesn’t know how long he stays there for but when he stirs, he finds that most of the bubbles have gone, and the water is lukewarm at best. Deciding that it had probably been over an hour at this point Lucifer finished washing quickly, using the things you had left for him and delighting at the crisp apple scent mixed with cinnamon and ginger with a hint of nutmeg and cardamom that wafted up from the open bottles. He makes sure to wash every inch of himself, even conditioning his hair as well as shampooing, wanting to make sure he used everything you had left for him.

He feels fresh and relaxed when he steps out of the bath, wrapping himself in the ridiculously large and fluffy towel that had been left next to the tub for him. He dries himself quickly, eager to try his new pyjamas on and by the time he’s taken the few short steps across the room his body is mostly dry if not a little pink tinged from how vigorously he had been rubbing at it. The pyjama trousers are just as soft as they had looked, Lucifer letting them sit low on his hips as he shoved his feet into the slippers. He forgoes his shirt for now, a smaller towel draped over his shoulder and catching the water that dripped from his hair as he looked for his hairbrush. It’s not there though and without thinking he is already heading towards the adjoining door to his bedroom, tugging the towel up to rub vigorously at his still wet hair as he flings the door open. He’s already a couple of steps into the room when he suddenly stops, the small gasp catching him off guard. 

Lucifers head snapped up at the sound, his eyes going wide when he found you stood there. Oh, but what a sight you were, all wide eyed surprise and lips slightly parted as you took in his half-dressed state. But that wasn’t the best part. Oh no, the best part was that the two of you matched, all the way from the yellow duck slippers on your feet to your pyjamas. They were the exact same ones you had gifted him except where his were trousers yours were shorts, cutting off mid-thigh and leaving your legs blessedly bare. The two of you just stand there, Lucifer completely enraptured by how adorably beautiful you are whilst you stare at his bare chest like you had never seen a half-naked man before. 

You are the first to come to your senses, coughing nervously before purposely looking at a spot somewhere over his should as you asked if he had “enjoyed your bath? I know it was a little over the top, but I just wanted to surprise you and, well you seemed a little stressed when we spoke last night, and I thought this might help you relax a little.” Lucifer lets the towel fall forgotten to the floor, striding across the room so he is standing before you, taking your hands in his and waiting for you to look at him before thanking you. You look so relieved when he tells you how much he had loved it, giving him one of your sweet little smiles when he admits that “no one’s ever done something like that for me before and I…thank you, for taking care of me.” He means to say a lot more, but his voice gets caught in his throat and Lucifer can only hope that his choked up little thank you conveys everything he hadn’t been able to say. 

Despite his lack of words, you had seemed to understand, cupping his cheek and looking him in the eyes as you swore that you would “show you every single day from here until forever how much you mean to me Lucifer.” Smiling tearfully, he had placed his hand over yours on his cheek, turning his face slightly into your palm as he told you how perfect that sounded and promising to do the same. Lucifer would spend the rest of eternity showing you how much he loved you, would tell you at least twice a day and make sure that you never stopped smiling, always feeling happy and loved. You were too pure of a soul to be down here, and you were definitely too good for Lucifer, but you had chosen him all the same and if heaven had denied you paradise, then he would create a slice of heaven in hell, just for you. 

Lucifers the one who breaks the silence between you this time, taking the hand that’s on his cheek and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles before asking about your current state of dress, and noting how adorable you look. Turns out there had been more to Lucifers surprise because not only had you given him a gift and helped him relax you also apparently had plans for his sleeping arrangements, gesturing behind you to the camomile tea that sat on the night stand whilst explaining that you thought the two of you “could snuggle. JUST snuggle. I thought it would be nice for us to, well you know, cuddle.” Lucifer hears what you are saying, would love nothing more than to climb into bed with you and spend the night wrapped in your arms but there’s just one slight problem with that. Lucifer isn’t so sure he would be able to spend the night with you in his bed without experiencing some physical side effects. 

His mind kind of gets stuck on that, pulling up every scenario that could unfold by agreeing to sharing his bed with you. Only two out of a dozen possibilities don’t end up with you both naked, and only one of those isn’t sexual in nature. It’s bad, so very very bad to be thinking about such things, especially when you were trying to be romantic and show him how you felt but by the way you were blushing and pointedly not looking at him or the bed Lucifer thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one with less than pure thoughts about the situation. His first instinct is to steer the conversation well away from anything even remotely close to sexual, but he knows better than that now. That being said it doesn’t change the fact that before anything like that could happen between the two of you Lucifer needs to apologise for his behaviour over the last few months and also get verbal confirmation from you that adding sex to your relationship was actually something you wanted. 

Lucifer makes sure to tell you that “spending the night with you in my arms sounds like a dream come true,” and it does. He has often dreamed of just holding you, getting to feel your body against his as the two of you simply lay beside one another but considering how he had been reacting to your most simple of touches these last few months he knows that an innocent snuggle wouldn’t be possible for him. The question is how does he tell you that without sounding like some sort of sex obsessed weirdo that can’t even make it through a night of cuddling without getting hard?

Trying to buy himself a little extra time to think Lucifer had directed you to sit at the end of the bed, coming to stand in front if you and nervously running a hand through his still damp hair. Maybe doing this when he was shirtless was a mistake, but he knew that if he disappeared back into the bathroom, he would probably lose his nerve and either end up embarrassing himself or upsetting you. No, he needed to do this now. You deserved the truth, though maybe getting you to sit on his bed was also a mistake, Lucifers eyes drawn down to your bare thighs, realising that if he were to drop to his knees his head would be just the right hight for him to…. NOT HELPING! 

You would think that after having been through all this with Asmodeus it would have been easier to tell you he was sorry for his behaviour and explain exactly why he had acted in such a way, but it wasn’t. Not in the slightest and Lucifer found himself stumbling over his words once more, looking over your shoulder to avoid the temptation of letting his gaze wander down too far. You don’t question his lack of eye contact, letting him ramble on about how he “didn’t mean to make you think that I wasn’t interested because I am. Very interested actually but you’ve never, you know, been with anyone before and I didn’t want to rush you into something you weren’t ready for. Not that you can’t make those decisions yourself. It’s just, well, umm, sex, can be messy and complicated, even when you know what you’re doing and I ah, I didn’t, DON’T! want to hurt you.” It’s like Asmodeus’ all over again, Lucifer making a complete mess of trying to tell you what he had thought was happening and what was actually going on. 

Why was he so bad at this? All he needed to do was apologise for  misunderstanding your attentions and reassure you that he was completely committed to this relationship, regardless of if it included sex or not but if that was something you were interested in then he needed you to just tell him that because he would be thrilled to have the pleasure of well, you. There! That’s all he had to say and yet the words that came out of his mouth were “sex is good. Would, be good, with you. If that was something you wanted to have, with me?” He can’t help but grimace at how ridiculous he sounds, hiding his face in his hands and contemplating opening a portal up underneath himself so he can save you from listening to any more of his embarrassing drivel. 

You don’t seem to think he’s messed up though, gently taking his hands in yours and lowering them so you can look him in the eye. You’re all soft smiles and gentle words as you apologise to him, cutting off his insistence that you had nothing to apologise for by placing a finger against his lips, Lucifers voice disappearing in an instant. He watched you with wide eyes, captivated by you as you told him that you “hadn’t considered your feelings and I’m sorry for that. Just because I don’t care about my lack of experience doesn’t mean you feel the same and I should have realised that instead of continuing to try and start something and making you feel uncomfortable. I know now that you were worried that I might be pushing myself into it without really knowing what I was asking for but I am an adult Lucifer and I need you to realise that I wouldn’t have even considered sleeping with you let alone trying to initiate it if I didn’t think I was ready for that with you.” You say it so much better than he ever could, having a way with words that leave Lucifer feeling like he is on the edge of tears and yet full of so much joy he might burst from it.

There are so many things that Lucifer wants to say to you. Like how deeply he cares for you. How he would be willing to go as slow as you needed him to if it meant you felt safe and comfortable with him. How he wanted you in his life, however he could have you because you made it that much better, smile as bright as an angels grace that never failed to chase away the gloom that hung over him like a cloud. He doesn’t say any of that though, taking your hands in his as he declared “me to. I’m ready,” because he was. Lucifer was ready to take that next step with you, both inside and outside the bedroom. 

The kiss you give him is chaste, but it doesn’t stay that way, your tongue sweeping across his lips. He parts them eagerly this time, welcoming the gentle cares of your tongue against his. The two of you should probably talk more but for now it seemed like the time for words was over, the months’ worth of denial finally catching up to you both. Lucifer follows you wordlessly when you scooch back onto the bed, his lips never far from yours as he climbs up onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer so you can whisper in his ear, lips brushing teasingly against the sensitive shell of his ear when you ask him if he would “be my fist? There’s no one else I would rather it be. Please Lucifer, take it, it’s yours.” It sends a shiver down his spine, a long buried ache growing in his chest and pressing almost painfully against his rib cage. You’re offering him something precious, something that once given can’t be taken back. A part of yourself that will forever be his, a mark on your very soul that will never fade. It’s an honour that Lucifer would be a fool to refuse so he doesn’t, murmuring his devotion against your lips even as he slides a hand under the fabric of your pyjama shirt, deft fingers dancing across your stomach and up your side, your startled gasp like the start of a symphony written just for him. 

Lucifer makes love to you that night. It’s the only way he can describe it. He’s slow, gentle, the two of you pressed as close you can get without it interfering with him slowly stripping your clothes off you, Lucifer enraptured by every inch of you that is revealed to him. 

There’s something addictive about the little moans and gasps you let out as Lucifer explores your body with his hands and mouth. He liked the way your breath hitches when his fingers skim across the swell of your breasts and pinched gently at your hardened nipples. He craves the little gasps you make when he kisses his way down your body from your lips to your hips, nipping and sucking gently as he goes before soothing over the slight sting with a delicate kiss. You respond so beautifully to him, unashamedly vocal in your pleasure as you squirm in his hold, arching into his touch like you were chasing it. He’s already addicted to it, to you but there’s one thing he loved above all else, the most beautiful sound to fall from your parted lips and leaves him whimpering, desperate to hear it again and again. 

“Lu...Luci…Lucifer! Please, I…oh gods, yes! Please. Lucifer I…LUCIFER!” It’s like music to his ears. A symphony of moans and gasps, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and all because his wicked tongue had made its way between your legs. Lucifer had moaned like a starving man when he had gotten his first taste of you, pressing his face as close to you as he could get. He had tried to go slow, aware that no one had ever done this for you before and he had started out like that, tentative and gentle as he tried to figure out what it was you liked and didn’t. As soon as he had started to figure it out though Lucifer was relentless, alternating between fucking his tongue into your tight cunt and sucking gently on your sensitive clit. He felt drunk on you, hungry to taste your climax on his tongue and desperate to know how loudly he can get you to scream his name. Hopefully loud enough that all of heaven will be able to hear. 

Lucifer spent a while between your legs, his own neglected cock tenting his trousers and begging for attention. This wasn’t about him though. It was all about you, about your pleasure and Lucifer was all for denying himself when he got to listen to you fall apart on his tongue. He could happily stay there for hours, days even, feasting on your sweet nectar and listening to you cry out for him in pleasure filled desperation. Maybe another time, he didn’t want to overwhelm you, plus this was about what you wanted not him and from the way you were practically grinding against his face Lucifer could guess what it was you were after. 

His fingers replaced his tongue, two slipping into you easily as his mouth latched onto your clit, licking and sucking on the little nub as he fucked his fingers into you. He knew that no matter how gentle he was with you it was going to hurt to some degree but the more relaxed and looser you were the easier it would be for you when Lucifer finally got to feel you around his cock. So, he worked another finger into you, his teeth nipping at the little bundle of nerves as you pressed down against the intrusion, moaning ever so sweetly at the stretch. It doesn’t take long for Lucifer to add a fourth finger or for you to clench down on them, crying out his name as you climax. Lucifer lets out his own moan, working you through it and lapping up your juices as they flow out around his fingers. 

He works you through it, fingers slowing down till they were barely moving as his tongue drags across your opening. He stays there till you let out a little whimper, tugging at his hair as you press your hips back into the bed. Reluctantly Lucifer moves, not wanting to leave you feeling to overstimulate or overwhelm. It is only your first time together, first being the important word there because Lucifer plans on there being many more times in your future, maybe even again tonight. If he’s lucky. 

Feeling how wet his chin is Lucifer doesn’t even think about letting his tongue snake out of his mouth, dragging across his chin and savouring every last drop of you, his eyes falling closed as he moans softly. Your choked off moan has his eyes snapping open, dragging his gaze up the naked expanse of your body until his eyes meet yours and the dark hungry look you give him as you stare at his mouth. Lucifer can’t help but smirk, lifting his still slicked fingered to his mouth. He watches you from under hooded eyes as he drags his tongue up them, slipping them into his mouth one by one so he can suck them clean. 

He’s barely removed them from his mouth before you’re surging up to claim his lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing Lucifers startled moan as you pull him down slightly to meet you. It’s an interesting position, Lucifers thighs shoved under yours and an arm wrapped around your waist to help keep your balance whilst he cups your neck and jaw with his other hand. You don’t seem to care, weight braced on one arm and a hand buried in his hair. One of your legs is wrapped around his waist, pressing his hips down even as you raise yours up to meet him. It’s too much, Lucifer breaking away from the kiss with a gasp and a shudder. He stays close, forehead resting against yours as you breathe each other in, Lucifer shamelessly grinding against you like he had no self-control. He doesn’t, not when it comes to you and he probably would have carried on as he was, grinding against your core in a pale imitation of what he really wanted until he crashed over the edge and spilt inside his trousers like an inexperienced teenager if it hadn’t been for your breathy little “please” so desperate and wanton and Lucifer couldn’t wait a moment longer. 

He gives you one last kiss, nipping gently at your bottom lip as he pulls away before shuffling off the bed. He’s already pushing down his pyjama bottoms before he’s even got one foot on the floor. It goes about as well as could be expected, Lucifers foot slipping as the other gets caught in the fabric. He goes down gracelessly with a thud, landing in a sprawling heap on the floor. It doesn’t deter him though, yanking the offending garment off and quickly jumping back up onto his feet only to find you kneeling at the end of the bed and looking down at him with concern. Lucifer laughs nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck and insisting that he was fine. There’s a beat of a second, a small pause as your eyes narrow slightly like you’re trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. You must decide he is because you smile fondly at him, shaking your head slightly and rolling your eyes even as you offer him your hand. 

He takes it gratefully, following you up onto the bed once more as you shuffle back to lay against the pillows. You are beautiful in your innocence, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and head turned slightly to the side, your eyes cast down in a display of shyness that hadn’t existed the rest of the evening. You’re led in a way that leaves you both on display and hidden all at once, your arms raised and gripping at the pillow under your head whilst your hips are slightly turned away from him, one leg over the other and bent at the knee. You look like a sacrifice, led across his deep red sheets with the dim glow of the candles flickering across your naked body and Lucifer feels every inch like the devil come to claim you as tribute. It doesn’t bother him as much as he had feared though, knowing you were here willingly, giving in to your own desire for him. It helps a lot, easing his worry and boosting his confidence because he knows you wouldn’t be here like this if you didn’t want to be. 

Lucifers touch is gentle as he slides his hands up your legs, slowly moving you so he can crawl between your legs. As soon as he’s hovering above you, his weight resting on his hands either side your head, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers slipping into his hair and guiding his head down to yours. He goes willingly, dropping his weight down onto his forearms as his lips meet yours in a slow and gentle kiss. All the desperation and hunger from before is gone, this kiss less about the desire you felt for one another and more about the love you feel for each other. Though neither of you had said it yet Lucifer knew it must be true. It was for him and if it wasn’t for you then it wasn’t far off. 

The kiss ended when you shifted, his neglected cock rubbing against your stomach and reminding you both of the lust and need you felt for the other as it sparked back to life. Lucifer pulls away from you with a groan, head falling to rest on your shoulder as he calms himself down enough so that he doesn’t start rutting against you again. Something that isn’t helped by the fact you whisper in his ear that you’re ready, ever so sweetly begging “please Lucifer, I need you.” And oh, that does something for him, his dick twitching when you say you need him. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye when he tells you it’s going to “hurt, just a little at the beginning but I promise it will feel so good after that, just, if it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop. We don’t have to do this tonight, not if your umph.” You cut off Lucifers ramblings with a quick kiss, cupping his cheek as you tell him that you know and how you trust him.  It brings tears to his eyes, ones you quickly wipe away, but he can’t help it. You are giving him such an amazing gift, trusting him with something precious and he’s overwhelmed by the trust you had put in him to take care of you. Maybe a little to overwhelmed if he was being honest. 

Lucifer doesn’t want to admit how nervous he is about this part, but it surely must be obvious from the fact that he stares down at his dick for a good few seconds before he even thinks about moving into position. He knows he’s a lot bigger than the average human male, both in length and girth and though he spent quite a while making sure you were stretched, he fears that it might not have been enough. It’s your first time, Lucifer knows he’s going to hurt you despite everything he’s done to prevent it and unless he shoved a bunch of drugs down your throat that fact isn’t going to change but that doesn’t change the fact he feels almost guilty about it. This will be nothing but bliss for him whilst you have to suffer through the pain of him tearing you apart and forcing your insides to fit around him. It’s not fair, a flaw in Gods design but unfortunately there isn’t much Lucifer can do to rectify that. 

The only thing he can do is go slow, checking you’re okay at regular points and stilling when you need him to. He is right though, sinking into you is heavenly. You’re warm and tight around him as he slides in torturously slow, his breath heavy as he watched your face for any sign he may be hurting you too much. He stops when he feels resistance, covering your face in kisses in between apologising for the pain that’s about to come. Your hands tighten where they’re curled around his shoulders, bracing yourself for what’s to come even as you urge him to continue. Lucifer kisses you, deep and hungry as he snaps his hips forward and breaks through your barrier, swallowing your pain filled cry. He thinks you might have drawn blood, your nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t care, holding himself still as he kisses away your tears, waiting for your command to continue. It feels like an age before your nodding, your grip loosening on his shoulders and whispering that “it’s ok, you can move. Please Lucifer. I want this. I want you.” With one last kiss Lucifer promises that you have him, mind body and soul, from here until eternity. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, pulling his hips back and sliding back in, your hitched little gasp the only answer he needs. 

It’s slow going, Lucifer fighting the urge to just slam into you all in one go because fuck, he wants to be in you already, filling you up and making you scream as he fucks you hard and mercilessly. There a mantra of next time in his head, promising himself that next time he’ll fuck you harder, faster. Next time he’ll bend you this way and that to get the best angles and get even deeper, but not this time. This time is for slow and delicate, working you up gradually so it’s even sweeter when you fall apart around him. When he’s all the way in he stops again, giving you both time to adjust because even he’s a little overwhelmed by how tight a fit it is, how your body clings to him, your insides fluttering around him and making his cock twitch from the stimulation that he’s not even sure you know you are providing. It’s taken him at least ten minutes to get here, and he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of this being over embarrassingly fast. That’s the last thing he wants, to give you the impression that sex with him would be painful and quick, leaving you unsatisfied and disappointed. That is not the kind of lover he is and Lucifer refuses to ruin your first time all because he had the self-control of Gods first man. 

That surprisingly helps, the thought of you and Adam together angering him enough that Lucifers able to drive back his impending orgasm. Your patience seems to have run out though, rolling your hips against his and dragging a low moan from between Lucifers parted lips. He nips at your lip, tells you to behave but all that gets him is a seductive smirk as you do it again. Lucifer closes his eyes, arms trembling as he holds himself as still as he can, letting you rock ever so slightly on his cock. It’s not enough to be anything other than a tease but Lucifer loves it all the same. He’s always prided himself on being able to please a lover, getting off on knowing he’s driven them to such exhilarating heights. If you were to use him as a living breathing sex doll then he would have no complaints, would probably even thank you for it because he was just that desperate to please. You have other ideas though, hooking a leg around his waist, foot pressing against his ass and urging him down as you roll your hips up to meet him. Your hands back in his hair, cupping the back of his head and keeping his head tucked into your neck. Your other arm is curled under his, hand gripping his shoulder tightly as you moan ever so sweetly in his ear, asking him to “move. Please I…I…please.” You cut yourself off with a desperate little whine, pushing your heel into the small of his back and pressing him as close as he could get. 

Lucifer feels awful, having made you wait whilst he collected himself when clearly you were so desperate for him. He places lots of little kisses across your shoulder and up your neck to your jaw, apologising in between because he’s “so sorry I made you wait so long for me. Promise it won’t happen again. I’m going to take such good care of, give you everything you want and more.” He’s not just talking about now and hopes that you can understand that in your current state. For as long as you want him Lucifer swears that you will want for nothing, at your beck and call every hour of every day. He will treat you like a queen, might even make you one, one day but for now he’s going to start with this. 

Lucifer starts off slow, your tight grip on him loosening enough that he can pull all the way back until his tips the only part of him left inside you. He presses back in just as slowly, both of you moaning at the feel of him pressing against your walls. Lucifer can’t help but lean in, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss, his pace just as slow and languid as the kisses you exchange. He stays as close to you as he can, his chest pressed against yours and legs intertwined as he moves within you. There’s nothing hard or fast about it, his hips rocking gently in and out of you and slowly stoking the flames of desire that burned within you. It was intimate, Lucifer unable to call it anything other than making love because that was exactly how it felt to him. Just the two of you, so close that all you can feel is the other, all you could see each other, breathing in the other’s air and lips meeting in gentle and love filled kisses as your moans and gasps mix with the sounds of your gentle love making. 

It was too much, yet not enough all at once, Lucifer feeling like he was going to fall apart at the seams at any moment. It’s been a while for him, even before Lilith had left and Lucifer had known there would be a possibility that he might not be able to control himself when with you. There had never been a doubt in his mind that bedding you would be anything other than spectacular, capable of reducing him to pathetic desperate mess but this? It feels too good, too much like divinity and Lucifer can feel his tentative hold on his form slipping, overcome by his own emotions as he losses himself in the moment, completely surrounded by you. 

Praise falls from Lucifers lips in a mumbled mess of words, telling you that you’re “perfect. So good. Doing so well for me. You feel amazing sweetheart, so warm and tight. Fuck. So beautiful like this and all for me. Just me. Oh fuck. Yes!” in between sloppy kisses as he trailed his lips  from your mouth to your neck and then back again, stopping occasionally to suck marks into your neck, the same part of him that had delighted in being your first practically glowing with delight at all the other residents of Hell being able to see his claim on you. Or that could just be the fact he was actually glowing, what remained of his heavenly light growing brighter the closer to his climax he got. 

As much as he wanted this to last for eternity Lucifer could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer, the coil in his stomach tightening as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him back in and leaving him a moaning gasping mess on the edge of tears. He can’t put it off again, approaching his end to quickly for him to slow down now. Panting Lucifer rested his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes and giving himself over to his pleasure. He is not a selfish lover though and Lucifer refuses to let himself fall over the edge without you there with him. It takes a slight bit of manoeuvring, but Lucifer managed to get a hand between the two of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit and making you cry out almost loud enough for all of Hell to hear. It wasn’t an ideal position, being pressed so close to you but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to stop touching your because if he did this might all disappear and he would find himself alone once more, that gaping black hole of loneliness too much for him to bare. 

Lucifers climax hits him suddenly, his cry of pleasure muffled as he sinks his jagged teeth into the delicate skin in your neck. Vaguely he hears your answering scream, can feel you getting impossibly tighter around him but Lucifer is to lost to really notice, his vision going white as the room floods with light, the sound of wings flapping and something smashing all but a distant hum compared to the white noise ringing in his ears. Euphoric doesn’t even begin to cover how Lucifer feels in that moment. Rapturous maybe, possibly even heavenly. All Lucifer knows is that it feels right, like being welcomed home and loved unconditionally. He falls into it, into you with, with reckless abandonment, letting the feeling drag him under the roaring waves of bliss as they crash into him. 

When Lucifer comes back to himself it’s to find that he’s laying half on top of you, his leg slung over yours, arm draped over your chest and head tucked underneath your chin. You’re humming softly along to the music still playing, arm wrapped around his waist as you card your fingers through his hair. He feels boneless, happy and satisfied in a way that he hasn’t for centuries. He’s so content in-fact that that he can’t help but hum, snuggling in closer and delighting in the little chuckle it gets him. It’s only then that he realises his wings are out, three of them half hanging off the bed and draping across the floor whilst the three on the other side are bent protectively over you, keeping you hidden and safe from the outside world whilst Lucifer himself was to out of it to do so. 

He’s embarrassed by his lack of control, groaning loudly and trying to hide his face in your neck as he apologises for his lack of restraint even as he tried to justify it because “it’s eh been a while since I’ve, well since I’ve done that with anyone and you were, it was, I was just…” Thankfully you stop his ramblings, your fingers pressing on the underside of his chin so he will look up at you. You understand his reaction, even going as far as to tell him how flattered you are that it happened. It makes him blush even more, wings fluttering slightly but no more so then when you thank him, looking him in the eyes and sounding so sincere and serious when you tell him that you were “glad it was you.” He wants to shrug it off, insist that it was his pleasure, quite literally, but there’s something about the look in your eyes that stops him Lucifer instead reacting up to cup your cheek and telling you how honoured he was that you had given him such a gift and promising to treasure it and you for all eternity.  

The two of you share a kiss, as soft and languid as your love making had been. Lucifer was happy to take his time, to spend at least the next hour wrapped in your arms and exchanging lazy kisses but it seemed you had other ideas, pulling away to yawn loudly. Lucifer waves off your apologies, insisting that he too is feeling quite tired considering the time and your choice of evening activities. He tries to move, tries to hide his wings and pull up the covers but you put a stop to that quickly, asking ever so sweetly if the two of you could stay like this, as long as it wouldn’t cause problems with his wings of course. Lucifers to stunned by the request to do anything then just nod, curling against your side and allowing his wings to shrink to a more manageable size that’s less likely to brake something else within his bedroom. Your hand returns to his hair, fingers gently toying with the strands at the base of his skull as you a wrap your other arm around him, slipping it under his bottom wing so you can gently stroke your fingers up and down his spine. He just about resists the urge to purr like a cat though he does find himself relaxing into it, sleep finding him quickly. 

It’s nice, the two of you led in his bed and enjoying the afterglow of your love making. There’s no need for either of you to talk and though Lucifer knows that at some point you will need to, a whole lifetime of things still between you that will need addressing at some point, there is no rush. He’s forever grateful that you chose to stick by him despite his misguided attempt to preserve your virtue and as he drifts off to sleep in your arms Lucifer lets himself truly feel the happiness you inspire within him because that’s what he is, happy. Happier than he had been in a long time, and he hopes, with every ounce of his being, that he can hold onto that happiness until the end of time. 

@viannasthings

@loquacious-libra

If anyone else would like to be tagged please do let me know.

[quinnysnursery]

little Tara where she usually likes going out on Friday nights but this Friday night was different

(AKA younger (19/20) year old cg takes care of little Tara! putting her in clothes that look like toddlers, cute socks, and has a cuddle night with You, Tara, and Sugar.)

[❤️] last friday night | tara yummy one-shot

paring : little!tara yummy x cg!fem!reader

summary : tara loves going partying...but sometimes staying in with her caregiver is more her forte

warning/extra tid-bits : use of y/n, SFW clothes changing scene, that's all!

word count : 593

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (roses from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : i actually hate wearing socks to bed and if you wear socks to bed i do judge you (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

Tara’s phone vibrated against her leather couch, countless texts asking her if she was coming out tonight. She huffed out a frustrated breath, grabbing the cellular device and shutting it off completely- she wouldn’t need it tonight anyway.

On any typical Friday, she would be struggling to answer each of her friends whilst putting on an elaborate clubbing outfit. Tonight though, she sat happily on her deep-red persian rug, hair in pigtails and a fuzzy headspace cradling her brain.

“Tar! Come eat!” Her caregiver’s voice called out from the kitchen, Sugar was quick to leap off the couch and scamper off into the kitchen- paws pittering against the hardwood floor.

Tara followed after the beloved pup soon after, giggling that Sugar was going “too fast!”. “I made nuggets, is that okay?” Y/n asked, already plating the vegan nuggets onto a princess plate. 

“Mhm! T’ank ‘ou!” Tara smiled, hopping onto the kitchen counter barstool and swinging her feet against the air. Y/n smiled at her girl, placing the princess-themed plate in front of her and quickly fixing a stray hair that fell in front of Tara’s face.

“No feeding Sugar, he’s already had his food.” Y/n reminded gently, much to Sugar’s dismay. Tara grumbled about this too, but quickly got to eating her dinner. 

“Mama’s gonna pick out your PJ’s. Be right back.” The carer said, pressing a quick kiss to Tara’s temple before exiting the kitchen and making her way upstairs. You pushed open the door to Tara’s nursery, the soft pink glow from various different fairy lights inviting you in the room.

The nursery always smelled of powdery roses, thanks to the candle warmer that sat atop the dresser. Y/n tugged open the pajama drawer, looking over the various different options. Eventually settling for a set of cotton polka dot pajamas and frilly white socks. 

Not long after, Tara’s dishes were in the sink and Y/n was helping her change into said pajamas. “Arms up!” The caregiver chimed, Tara giggled as she obeyed. 

Y/n quickly hooked the polka dot shirt over Tara’s head and arms, pulling it down. “All done!” Tara giggled, earning a genuine smile from her carer. 

“Go brush your teeth and mama’ll put on a movie.” Y/n smiled, Tara nodded and called Sugar to “help” her. 

Grabbing the remote off of the dresser, Y/n flicked on the TV and scrolled through the countless streaming apps, eventually deciding on Disney+. She scrolled through the profiles, passing Jake, Carrington and Johnnie’s before clicking on Tara’s- smiling at the little’s Vanellope Von Schweetz profile picture. 

Just as Y/n was about to call out, asking what the regressed girl wanted to watch- Tara shouted through a sudsy mouth, “I wan’ wa’ch, ‘punzel!” 

The caregiver chuckled, finding the requested movie and pausing it before the intro could begin playing. Soon enough, Tara came out of the bathroom with Sugar following closely behind. 

The trio laid on the soft bed, a nest of pillows and blankets just waiting to be cuddled with. It didn’t take long for Tara to curl up in her caregivers arms, Sugar resting at the end of bed- already half asleep.

Y/n made sure to hit play on the movie before fully cuddling up to Tara, allowing her little to fully sink into her arms- big brown eyes fixated on the TV screen. 

The soft glow from the fairylights paired with the powdery aroma soon soothed both Y/n and Tara into a deep, restful sleep- soft snores filling the room.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr @babybatxxx @ivysturnss

@babybatxxx @emogxilbert

[pictureamoebae]

L = no ReShade; R = ReShade inc. ReLight

Quick little shader highlight for you.

You've maybe heard me talk about the Nice Guy Lamps shader before, which lets you add spotlights and create shadows. It's a nifty little shader but it's not very precise, and the shadows suffer from jitter and noise.

Enter ReLight by Marty McFly. ReLight is a fancy and more polished alternative to NG Lamps. The shadows are far better quality, and the lights are easier to position and edit. You can theoretically add as many as you want by editing the preprocessor definitions, but to begin with there are (iirc) two for you to play with. I've set it to four, and haven't felt like I've needed more than that so far.

In the picture on the right I've used three lights, each by the light sources in the room to simulate actual light being emitted from them. The two lamps on the right have a warm neutral light, and the candle on the left has a warm orange light. I positioned them so they sat exactly where the source would be. So, for example, for the floor lamp I positioned the light right up inside the dome of the shade, and you can see shadows being cast by the shade and light only coming down where it would physically be able to fall.

You can also use ReLight to add lights to portraits, making them really dramatic with different colours on each side of the face, or just to brighten the character so you can see their features more clearly. Below is a screenshot I took in Baldur's Gate 3 where I added blue light to the left and warmer light to the right.

It's such a handy little shader that can help add both realism and a hefty dose of drama to a scene. You need to feel confident tweaking shader settings to use it, and have to edit it for every single shot because the lights stay static in relation to the screen coordinates, so you'll have to move them where you want them each time. It's easy to do though, and lots of fun.

ReLight is one of Marty's premium shaders, which means you'd need to subscribe to his Patreon to get access to it. It's not currently listed in any of his tiers because he stopped working on it in favour of other things, but it works well and is probably my favourite shader at the moment. I'm yet to set up a shot that can't benefit from it in one way or another. If you are interested in using ReLight, you need to sub to the Path Tracers tier. You can cancel your subscription once you've grabbed it from his discord server, but you won't get access to any updates until you resub (it hasn't been updated in a long time though, so I wouldn't worry too much about that).

Paying for shaders is something that doesn't sit well with some people, and that's fair. I would only recommend getting this if you're enough of an enthusiast that spending 30 minutes setting up one shot is your idea of fun (not that ReLight takes that long, it can take just seconds sometimes).

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev chapter

“Just – don’t do it, Lance. I don’t want you to end up in the west wing, or things are going to get bad in here.”

If Lance is being entirely honest, he has no desire to deviate from Hunk’s directions. At least he didn’t. If Hunk hadn’t said anything, it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to Lance to go to the west wing anyway. This is the second time he has been warned away from the west wing, now. If Lance was curious before, he’s burning with it now.

But Hunk is his friend, and he’s doing him a favour, so he bites his tongue and nods his head and walks down the way Hunk instructed him too. It helps that he’s ravenous, and is more focused on food than anything. 

But he won’t lie and say that he doesn’t have to force himself away from dark hallways and beckoning shadows.

———

“Oh, Lance, hello!” Colleen greets him enthusiastically when he walks in the door. Lance wiggles his fingers at her in a small wave. “I’m glad you came out, dear. I was worried.”

“Got hungry.”

“Of course, of course. Sal, heat up the food, will you?”

The giant wood burning stove in the corner of the kitchen chugs to life, vent forming an enthusiastic grin. The sound of frying meat and salted potatoes fill the air, making Lance’s mouth water.

The kitchen is quiet at this time of night; warm. It makes him think of his Abuela, on the many nights when neither of them could sleep, guiding his hands as he kneaded dough, sliced meat, prepared vegetables. Things he can do easily, now, without thinking, in a way he has never been able to do with a plow or bailer. Things that form callouses on the tips of his fingers rather than the pad of his palm. 

He shakes his head, shoving the thoughts in the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter, now. The food is warm and smells heavenly, and more importantly, there’s no screaming fiancé to reckon with. 

He scarfs back the food so quickly his stomach aches, forgetting to be self conscious. Colleen’s laughter is only teasing, after all, and there is no one else to see it. He smiles sheepishly at her and wishes her goodnight as he finishes his third plate, watching her hop off to a cabinet. 

Slowly the lights in the kitchen fade as candles burn low and the embers of the oven start to die out, shadows shifting on the cluttered walls and full shelves. Lance picks up one of the newer candles before the kitchen goes completely dark, placing it gently in a (non-animated, thankfully) teacup to guide him down the corridors. He remembers Hunk’s instructions, pausing for a moment to flip them in his head so he won’t get lost in the wide, dark hallways – left, left, right; now left, right, right. Stick to the path. 

He walks out of the kitchen, closing the heavy door gently so as to not wake anyone. He takes his time, not quite comfortable in the dark but not quite afraid, either; his shoes, worn and thin, provide a light enough cover that he can almost feel the smooth marble floors on the soles of his feet, and his free hand traces along the wall as he walks, feeling the rough bricks and occasional soft tapestries. He keeps his candle close to his face, both to help him see and to try and soak up some of the tiny flame’s warmth. His cloak is back in the servant’s quarters – his room – and the castle is warmer than outside but barely. 

His fingers brush over a soft tapestry, threads so thin and tightly woven he can barely feel the difference between them, and then brick again, and then air. He pauses, holding his candle a little further from his eyes and squinting to make out what’s in front of him. 

Difficult to see in the low candlelight, a massive stained glass window towers in front of him. The colours are too dark to make out, but when he places the candle at the base of the window and steps back, he can see the vague shapes of a young man, tall and regal and dark-haired, holding a sword and standing in front of a castle. Below him are panels of farmland and forest, and beside him are orchards, vills, estates. Above him, to the right, is a shining sun. To the left, a crescent moon.

Left, right, right. Don’t veer off the path. 

Lance bites his lip, and follows the path of the moon.

The corridor, somehow, seems colder. As if the bricks are further away from the sun, no longer leaching the warmth collected as it was shining. The darkness seems blacker, too; heavier almost, and soon his candle burns down to the base, extinguishing, leaving him to stumble forward completely blind. He reaches out to steady himself, to trace the wall to stay on track, and has to choke back a scream when he feels a face instead of a wall, sharp teeth digging into the flesh of his palm, snarling and furious. It takes him several minutes to calm his racing heart, work up the courage to reach forward, again, touch the face, map curve of the stone jaw, curling horns, and twisted, scowling mouth. A gargoyle, although Lance has never heard of one inside before.

“Rich people are so goddamn weird,” he mutters to himself. 

Shaken but determined, he moves forward. 

As he creeps forward, more and more carvings dot the walls, each one angrier and angrier. At one point he has to pull his hand away, continuing forward on his legs alone, because he fears cutting himself on teeth that only appear to get sharper, brick that only seems to get rougher. He keeps his arms extended, moving forward slowly, cautious of what might be in front of him, too scared to stumble.

Eventually, his knuckles hit a door, the sound of the slight impact bouncing off the walls and echoing down the hallway. He flattens his hands against the grainy wood, mapping out the knots, the iron studs and hinges. He’s surprised to feel the lock pulled free. He wraps his fingers around the door handles and tugs, pulling the door open with a groan.

Moonlight spills into the hallway. It’s silvery and faint, but it’s enough that Lance can see the outline of his hands, even vaguely in front of him. He pushes the door open further, wincing at the slight creak, just wide enough for him to slip in. 

The room is…huge. And destroyed.

Inside, it’s even easier for the moonlight to lift some of the oppressive shadow. It’s not bright by any means, but the window that makes up the back wall is massive and clear, and the doors are wide open, letting the full moon spill into the crowded, dusty room. Lance steps cautiously forward, hands still extended, looking around with wide eyes. 

Broken furniture litters the floor, leaving splinters and shards of metal everywhere, casting long shadows on the wall. Lance is careful to step around it, but in his attempt to steer clear he very nearly walks into one of the many torn drapes and tapestries hanging from the walls and ceiling. He ducks at the last second, avoiding a facefull of it, but he still nudges it with his shoulder, causing a cloud of dust to fall to the floor, powdering his face and hair.

“Aw, that’s fucking disgusting,” he says, swiping it off his face and resisting the urge to throw up. He shakes out his hair, hyperconscious of how little it actually does, hoping that there is some kind of well he can find on the grounds in the morning to bathe. Or, God, maybe even a real bath! With hot water! It’s a castle, after all. There should be.

He looks again at the state of the room, with the shattered glass all over the wall and holes punched into the plaster walls. Paint is peeled or scratched off in many areas, especially where decorative fabric has been torn, or where coat racks or lampposts have fallen, scratching the walls on their way down.  On second thought, hot water baths seem too nice for this shithole.

A glint catches his eye, and he lifts his head just to find himself face to face with his own fragmented reflection, startled expression mirrored back to him, brown eyes wide and eyebrows creased. Half the glass is missing, and the rest of it is spiderwebbed, in shards. The ornate carvings of the mirror’s frame have been half-crushed, like the whole giant, floor-length thing was picked up and smashed on the floor. 

Sufficiently spooked, with his abuela’s warnings of bad luck ringing in his ears, he starts to turn away, unsure if he can be cursed if he didn’t break the damn thing but unwilling to take his chances. He's in a rough enough situation. He can’t really afford to make it worse. But as he moves forward, he catches sight of another face reflected out of the corner of his eye, and whips around to face it, hand curled protectively over his heart. 

“Oh,” he breathes, air knocked out of him, transfixed on the portrait across from him.

It’s painting, or at least, it was. Like everything else in the room it’s been destroyed, half the man’s face shredded cleanly away. Left only is the shining thickness of his dark hair, the length of his pale neck, and the perplexing, swirling indigo of his eyes. He looks hauntingly familiar, in the way a name on a tombstone brings on a shudder of vague recollection, a chill down one’s spine.

Wary and curious, Lance slowly reaches forward, pinching the corner of the ripped flap of canvas with his thumb and pointer finger, cognizant of the accumulated grime, and hesitant for a reason he doesn’t understand. Slowly he begins to flip the canvas up, running his pinkies along the rejoining seams, too dark to make out the rest of the painting quite yet but noting the strong chin, sharp jawline, regal set of the shoulders – 

A red light pulses, suddenly, nearly blinding the room, and Lance’s eyes squeeze shut on reflex, hands dropping to his sides. He turns slowly once it has faded, heart pounding, and sees to his great shock a flower, encased in glass, floating atop a small table, glowing as brightly as a ruby.

As if in a trance, he walks towards it, tripping over a table but quickly righting himself, eyes glued to the flower; noting the way it seems to rotate, almost too slowly to track, and sparkle like freshly fallen snow in early sunlight. He stops when he gets close, admiring it in almost a single-minded focus; the deep, dark green of the stem, the sharp thorns in great number along it, and the softly glowing pinkish-red of the three triangular petals. Lance has seen nothing like it before, not in his sister’s garden, not sold in the town square, not even wild. The flower is enchanting, and Lance is reaching out before he can stop himself, pressing careful hands to the glass and lifting it quickly, setting it on the floor and standing again as fast as he can manage, unwilling to take his eyes off the flower for even a second.

He’s nervous, now, as the flower lays without barrier, brighter and softer alike in the cool air and silver moonlight. His reach to touch it is slow, almost as if he must caress the air around it first, single finger poised to rest gently on the widest petal.

A shadow suddenly dwarfs him. He rips back his hand at light speed, but it’s too late, and Prince Keith snarls at him, teeth bared and mouth twisted and far more horrifying than any gargoyle.

He says nothing for a moment. Condensation huffs out of him in a cloud in the cold night, enveloping his head like a halo of smoke. In the next second he’s leaping forward and Lance doesn’t have time to move, doesn’t even have time to pray, can only let out a strangle shout and sharp inhale. 

But Keith does not claw him to death, or sink his teeth into Lance’s heart. He only slams the glass case back over the flower, wrapping himself around it almost protectively, mouth still twisted and eyes still angry and cold.

“Why did you come here,” he hisses, stalking towards him, matching every step Lance takes backward. His claws scratch on the floor with every step. 

Lance says nothing.

“What about this place seemed inviting to you?” Keith’s voice is low, carefully controlled. With every word Lance’s heart lurches, and with every step his lungs get tighter and tighter. “What about the darkness and closed door made you feel you had the right to enter?”

There’s no overt animosity to his tone, no animation. His voice is flat; deadly. This is not some kind of banter; there is no upper hand for Lance to gain. This conversation doesn’t need him at all. 

This is a cornering. A final toying with a trapped animal.

“It’s only a flower,” Lance manages, and the words are barely out of his mouth before Keith roars, a hundred times louder than before, shaking the very ground with the force of it. There is nothing human or humane about it. 

“Do you realise what you could have done?!” he shouts, so mounstrous it reverberates in Lance’s bones. He slashes wildly, splitting an already broken chair in two, flinging the halves at the wall.

Lance presses himself against the wall, as far away from him as he can manage, breath coming in short pants. “I didn’t mean –”

“Get out!” Keith booms, and Lance doesn’t waste a second.

He turns around, and he flees.

— — —

next chapter

[flooftyfizzlebeans]

Not me thinking about the desperate situation that would lead to cannibalism

I'm imagining the temperature drops. Over the course of a few days, the snow on the mountain creeps downwards until the whole town is soft and blanketed. Maybe the island drifted north. Maybe it's a Snakolyte plot to save us from the hivemind. Maybe it doesn't matter.

Crops die. Bugsnax disappear. Soon the town scatters once again.

Some stay put where Filbo dependably makes a fire every day. Some try to flee to the desert, only to find the temperatures are only slightly warmer. It doesn't make up for the lack of shelter.

Lizbert and Eggabell are forgotten.

Of course Snorpy and Chandlo flee. Beffica too. They'd rather go alone than see what is inevitably going to happen.

Those that remain take refuge in Grmables barn. As the snow grows heavier, we have to huddle for warmth. Make fire indoors. It's too cold out to chop trees. My frostbitten fingers are proof enough of that. We're running low on firewood. Everyone is so hungry. Our paradise frozen before their very eyes.

Cromdo drops the salesman bit and uses all of his stock trying to keep the group alive. Shelda's meager rations keep hope in their eyes. Floofty has a few chemicals that won't kill is to burn for warmth.

But.... The morning when Floofty desperately tries to shake Shelda awake to no avail... Neither Filbo or I are strong enough to keep the fighting from breaking out.

Blows are exchanged, the shouting becomes too much. Harsh words turn to claws on flesh, blood in the deep snow. Filbo drops like a stone. I feel a paw take mine and drag me out of the town.

When I come out of my daze, Cromdo's made a fire in a cave, put a blanket over my shocked form. Hes making pine needle tea. Surprisingly, going up the mountain might save us.

"Who am I kidding? There's no hope." I sigh.

"I know, but that doesn't mean you stop fighting. Just means you change tactic." Cromdo scolds me.

"And run like cowards?" I poke the fire aimlessly. "They're dead down there. We're all dead."

"We survived because we're cowards. We'll keep surviving like cowards."

I sit with that. He pours me another cup.

"Yknow, I chose this cave because I hid some booze in here. Think Beffica took it before I could though."

I smile. The thought is nice.

I stare into the fire, replying the images in my mind. I know what I must do.

When Cromdo falls asleep, I tick him in, and leave him alone.

When he awakes the next morning, he awakes to a fantastic smell. Bacon? Hamburgers? He's never smelled anything like it before in his life.

He gets out of his cocoon of stolen blankets, catching me setting the table. One of my blankets for a tablecloth, plates from.... somewhere. Forks and knives. There's a stick in the middle I'm trying to light on fire to try and simulate a candle.

On the plates are large cuts of meat, cooked and served beautifully.

"Hey, kid? What are you-"

"Have a seat, sir."

....and he does. He sits across from me, both of us bundled up.... but keeping up the charade that it's a fancy restaurant. I see him hesitate... before taking the first bite.

"Wow, I didn't know you could cook."

"I didn't need to, until now."

We chat. We talk about our normal lives. What we did in the city. The lives we left behind for this dump. He talks about his daughter. His ex wife. I talk about the string of unlucky articles that put me on thin ice.

His hand finds mine once again. This time, it's an invitation to stay near.

We finish our dishes.

"I really... enjoyed this." He starts.

"Me too."

"So uh.... who did we just eat?"

...

"I don't think it's best to know." I say.

Cromdo thinks for a moment.

"Yeah, you're right."

We sit in silence.

His paw on mine, he leads us back to bed. We're both so tired. We lay down on the cold stone floor, wrapped in each other's arms, under all our cloth and blankets and insulation...both deciding...

not to keep the fire burning.

The sun sets.

The sun rises on an empty Snaktooth. No grumpsues. No bugsnax. No life.

Only blood and ice.

[raayllum]

"My mom used to do that." for claudiez 👀

as always they're in their 20s... Plus send me a number with a ship and i'll write it &lt;3 accepted ships are tdp canon ships + rarepairs (claudiez, sopreli, corvus/terry, sorvus)

There's very little that Ezran remembers about Sarai.

He remembers the warmth of her smile, he thinks. The softness of her hair in his chubby little hands. But beyond that, there's not much else—too recently weaned before her death for more than stories he's heard to take hold, and even then, it feels like every year Harrow (until he couldn't) and Callum, or even Aunt Amaya, would bring up something new, something small, that they remembered, and he was learning it for the first time.

Mom always wore little gold beads in her hair.

Those were her favourite pair of earrings.

She planned out the castle gardens, with those hedges over there.

Soren, even, citing that she was his first sword-fighting teacher back when she'd been captain of the guard, before she and Ez's dad had fallen in love.

Her birthday is always hard, an added winter chill growing throughout the castle. Ezran ensures more fires are lit, and Claudia enchants little glass jars of orange light with her Sun primal, for people to carry in their pockets to keep them warm. He dons his more heavily furred royal cape and keeps Bait close while he writes letters to his brother and Rayla in Xadia, climbing the cold steps up to the rookery to send them.

Claudia joins him more often than not in his study, to save on candles, she says, as they do their work long into the night, but Ezran thinks she just likes his company, his heart doing a hopeful little dance in his chest. He steals glances at her atop the rim of candlelight dancing in her green eyes, now with that spark of light in them that'd been gone for so long during the war. After the war, too.

"You know," he begins, when they're heading to the study after lunch, "we could go to the library. The fireplace there is warmer. There's more comfortable chairs."

We used to always sit up in the library when it got cold, his dad had said, and Callum would play on the floor with you in your mom's lap.

Claudia thinks for a moment, then grins adorably. "Why not?" she says.

They settle in with tea and jelly tarts as an extra bonus, Claudia easing off her prosthetic and letting her stump be close to the fire; Ezran knows the cold makes the phantom pains worse this time of year. (Terry still sends over a herbal remedy that helps with it from where he's set up an apothecary on the border of Del Bar and Katolis with Corvus.)

More of her dyed black hair falls in front of her ears while she works, making notes on charts for what magical goods will be imported once the ice melts, and Claudia pushes it back impatiently until she sits back and begins braiding it. It's still shorter than it was in their teens, no longer all the way down her back, but long enough to braid as she starts the process, fingers jolting.

Dark magic took a lot from her, but one of the things it left was permanent nerve damage in her hands. (The cold makes that worse, too.)

"My mom used to do that," Ez half-remembers, half-recalls. Another story about the differences from their royal portrait—the one real non-Callum produced picture of their mother he has, the way he pictures her in his mind's eye—and how she'd worn her hair in a braid just as often loose or in a bun.

Claudia smiles then, softly. "She did. She's actually the one who taught me, after..." Lissa, another woman Ezran has never really met, isn't a wound anymore, but it's still hard during this time of year. "After my mom left and I grew my hair out."

Ezran sets aside his letter to an Evenerean diplomat, rising when she struggles again. "I can do that for you, if you like."

"Oh. You don't—"

He steps around easily to stand behind her armchair. "Let me?"

Claudia turns to the front fully, exhaling. "Alright."

He gathers her hair gently, hands confident due to the way his father had shown him him growing up, but styled a bit more the way Moonshadows do their braids, like how Rayla had demonstrated. For love and affection, she'd said, having small, long ones tucked away behind thicker locks for each of them—Callum and Ez and Soren, her boys, and then for each of her parents.

"There," Ezran says, finishing. He takes off his cape too for good measure, and drapes it across her shoulders. Claudia is looking at him wide-eyed when he walks back around to face her, and he passes a hand self-consciously over the patch of hair he's growing on his chin.

"Thank you," she says at least, tugging his cape further over her shoulder. The royal red brings out the green of her eyes and black of her hair. It suits her.

"Don't mention it," Ezran says, sitting again. They catch each other's eye, briefly, and share a smile, before she blushes a bit and looks away.

He feels warm for the first time all day.

[qqueenofhades]

hello! you asked for winter prompts? ❄️🌨

- first snow

- baby, it's cold outside

- holidays in the city

- hot chocolate

and i have a hankering for some Fivan but anything you want to write is lovely! 💙

The wind off the water stings like a whip, and the stormclouds roiling in the northern sky are laden with the promise of snow, the first of the season -- which in Weddle comes much later than it did back in Os Alta, where winter often lasted five or six months of the year. Fedyor isn't entirely used to the gentler, warmer, mistier climate of Novyi Zem, or Novyi Zem in general, but he can't say that he objects. In fact, it's nice not to freeze his arse off in a tent, or a battlefield, or wherever he was spending the latest campaign. Of course, Ivan is worried that it might turn them soft, but that's just Ivan for you. It's three months since they arrived in Weddle and got a small apartment in its city districts, settling awkwardly into their new life, but he still stays on his toes, tense and watchful, just waiting for something to go wrong. Even here, on the far side of the True Sea, far from Ravka, his face could be infamous, and if Queen Alina is inclined to pursue the vendetta that drove them into exile in the first place....

Fedyor sighs, shakes his head, and continues on his way. By the time he reaches the market square, the first flakes are swirling down, and he pulls up his hood -- it's still strange not to be wearing a kefta -- and greets the merchants politely. Neither he nor Ivan speak Zemeni particularly well, but Fedyor is a quick study and Ivan is extremely stubborn, so between the two of them, they've picked up enough to get by. There are enough immigrants around here that they can get by in a rough polyglot of Ravkan and Kerch, but it's better not to draw attention to themselves. You know. Just in case.

Fedyor finishes his shopping and heads home through the narrow streets, windows lit with candles and pine wreaths hung on doors, kids laughing and looking at the sky in eager expectation of snowballs with which to wreak generalized havoc. He likes the energy of it, the ordinary vivacity of living among regular people and not shut away behind the cloistered walls of the Little Palace, and he stops to savor it for a long moment. Then he ducks into a narrow stone doorway, fumbles with his mittened hand for the key, and opens it, ascending a creaky staircase to the second floor. Pushes the door open and calls, "Vanya, I'm home."

His husband glances up briefly, his scars looking particularly pronounced in the grey light, and silently satisfies himself that Fedyor is in one piece. Then he says, as usual, "Any trouble?"

"No." Fedyor knows why he asks, but he does feel that if there was, he could handle it, lingering parem hangover or otherwise. He carries the shopping into the crammed galley kitchen and begins to unload it, as Ivan pads in, leans against the doorway, and watches him like a lone wolf. Over his shoulder, Fedyor adds, "We could even go out and do something, you know. Something fun."

Ivan snorts. Ravka or Novyi Zem, it doesn't matter; Ivan and fun simply do not go in the same sentence. "Or not."

Fedyor raises an eyebrow, but decides not to press. Instead he fills the kettle with milk to warm it, melts some chocolate in the tarnished tin pan, and stirs it into two cups, handing one to Ivan. "Fine, then. Suit yourself."

They sip the hot chocolate for several moments, neither of them speaking, falling into that long-married silence where they don't need words to communicate. Then Ivan says at last, "I wish we could, Fedya. I just -- I don't think -- I'm not in the mood."

Fedyor could remark that when it comes to doing anything frivolous, Ivan rarely is, but he knows the feeling. Part of his eagerness to go out and socialize and make the best of it, in the way he habitually does as much as Ivan glowers in solitude, is to cover up that bone-deep pain, the sundering and the loss, the knowledge that it might be a very long time -- if ever -- until they go home again. He's grateful for the new life they're building in Weddle, even though it's decidedly out of the pulverized ashes of their old one, but that can't whisk away the ache. Then Fedyor finishes the hot chocolate and sets aside the cup, puts his arms around Ivan's neck, and snuggles close. "In that case," he orders, "keep me warm some other way. It's cold out."

Ivan smiles, just a bit, the way he does with Fedyor and no one else. He brushes a kiss over Fedyor's temple, slips his arm around him, and holds him close, and they stand there in the kitchen, listening to the shared echo of their heartbeat -- always, no matter where they are in the wide world, the one thing that feels like home. Then he shifts his position and lifts Fedyor up onto the counter, moving close to kiss him and let everything else fall away. "As you wish."

[katastronoot]

Friday Kiss Tag Game

Tagged by: @hannahcbrown thanks friend!

Tagging: @wispstalk @boethiahspillowbook @friend-of-giants and anyone else who wants to do it. This is so sweet

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

I thought about drawing something but I haven’t written anything for Baurus and Frieda yet. I planned on making it short and sweet but then 1200 words later here I am haha

••••••••

Strength.

She had always needed strength.

The moment she lost her parents and became orphaned on the streets of Anvil, she wished for strength. Pleaded for it. Prayed to the gods—the gods who were but just a whisper in the wind. They never really made their intentions clear. They weren’t listening to her prayers, couldn’t have been.

Because strength.

It never came to her when she needed it most.

Frieda’s gaze focused on the warm amber candle light flickering against the back wall of the washroom. It shifted the drab temple walls to those shades of warmer orangey hues complementing the deep red imperial banners that hung the walls. Her body was finally getting adjusted to the heat of the water that surrounded her, she could feel the stress of her endeavors begin to fade. With an exhale of breath she closed her eyes, trying to imagine that same flame from her candle. It took more self-control than she wanted to push away the visions of fiery hells that she journeyed through in the day prior. It was unavoidable.

Her waking hours were spent in the plane as well as her nights. She dreamt of that place.

Her own place. Her own piece.

Oblivion.

•••

He hadn’t seen her come back to the temple that night.

Martin was spending every waking hour studying the texts. He was on duty and was determined to never leave the emperor's side. He couldn’t let it happen again.

It was Jauffrey that gave him the order to get some rest. He would have denied it and stood guarding the door until his feet ached and he succumbed to over exhaustion. But, Frieda.

Frieda might just be the one reason why he would step away.

And he hadn’t seen her come home.

Most of his brethren, the other blades were retired for the night. It was late. The halls of the temple were quiet, only echoing each solid footstep he took. After hearing word that their hero came in but just a moment ago—soaking wet and hobbling down to the quarters—he took great stride to reach her.

Who knew what kind of torment she went through.

He did not find her sleeping in her cot and the rain pounding on the roof told him that she was not camping under the stars. He knocked on the door to the baths. No answer but a crackle of thunder shuddering from above. However, warmth was peeking through the cracks in the doorframe.

“Frieda.” He called softly but firmly. His eyes took in the sight. A sight that he has seen one too many times.

Her bare form was slumped in the bath. Articles of bloodied armor and underthings scattered the stone floor. The smell of incense and soap invaded his senses. It would have been pleasant if it weren’t for how dark the bath water had turned.

Crimson.

He approached her, chest rising and falling heavy. His skin touched hers and he felt her pulse beating at ease. He took a breath.

“Frieda, wake up.” He nudged her shoulder before taking a seat on the floor, an arm resting on the tub. Her eyes were rolling side to side behind her lids. Spasms and jolted movements struck through her joints as hushed whimpers escaped plush lips. She must have been having another one of those dreams. Those nightmares.

His gaze examined her body—riddled with cuts and purple marks. The dips and curves in her beautiful form were beginning to flatten. When was the last time she had a proper meal?

He cursed at her state.

For one so experienced in the art of restoration, she never conserved enough energy to heal herself.

•••

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of a voice.

Baurus.

Frieda took a deep breath calming the race of her beating heart. She didn't startle so easily back then. She was so much more composed. But, sending her soul into the madness of oblivion every day does provoke change.

Her eyes met his dark brown. Soft.

“How long was I out?” The hoarseness in her voice made her grimace.

“Not sure. I noticed you did not come in and as soon as I could I went looking for you… Frieda. Look at you.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at the mother-hen tone to his voice. He was just that. Always so caring and kind.

“I am still breathing, aren’t I? My limbs are all in place. I seem quite alright.”

He looked down upon her. His build still held above her even at the angle. She took notice of the furrow in his dark brow, its creases painted with concern. Someone with such duty should not worry about one such as her.

“Baurus, truly—“ her vision tore away from his to the sight of her pale skin against the tinged water. More and more marks. More that would become scars serving as constant reminders of her place in this war. Constant storytellers painted along her flesh. A wrenching sensation washed through her stomach.

“—I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shrugged, “I had a meal this morning.”

He let out a sigh, “Would you like me to bring you something?” His voice was quiet. She looked up into his eyes—not wanting his warmth to leave her.

“Please, stay.” Her tone cracked as she placed her palm against his skin.

“I’m not ready to be alone again.”

His body shifted closer. She could feel the heat from his skin against hers that had begun to chill from the cold bath water.

“How is Martin?” She asked with intent to distract herself from her state.

Baurus shook his head, “He has been working hard. I don’t think I even saw him blink his eyes today. He’s pushing himself to the point—“ his voice took a pause and he exhaled. “You need to rest. Both of you. Just take a moment for yourself and breathe. Please. I am tired of seeing you suffer.”

“We both have a duty…I can’t rest. You know this.”

He felt her hand grip his wrist. As he looked down into her eyes he was able to see through the darkness that pooled beneath her eyelids. Her beautiful heterochromatic eyes that glimmered in blues and greens. He saw her beauty through her misery.

What he would give to take it away from her.

“You are strong, Frieda. You will fight this battle and remain successful as you are every day. In years to come we will look back on this as just a small feat in our lives full of many.”

Her fingertips brushed along his arm, pulling him in closer towards her. All of her attention pooled to the words that he spoke.

“I am here for you. I always will be. For you, for Martin. I am here and I do not intend on going anywhere.”

His voice grew softer, “you are not alone anymore.”

She smiled through the wetness that formed against her eyes. With a gentle tug on the linen of his tunic, he yelped as she nearly pulled him into the cool water with her.

The delicate skin of his lips met hers in an embrace. It was not forceful. Not lustful—but tender and comforting. They both needed this. A release of emotion in an act of intimacy. Being both on duty at the temple never allowed for much opportunity to show their affection.

This kiss was one of many to come, even if she had to wait far in between.

His lips parted hers. Deep brown gazing into two orbs—one of blue and one of green.

She knew at that moment that he was the one thing she never thought she could have.

Her strength.

[certifiedtrashmouth]

#66 for Spotify wrapped: Eddie Munson x Reader

(I'm currently reeling after reading Maroon, that was such beautiful heartbreak. I'm a little lost after it 😭🖤)

TRACK 66 - moodswings by 5 seconds of summer (eddie munson x reader)

a/n: first of all, i apologize for maroon!!! even though this song is a perfect recipe for angst, i tried to swing it as fluffy as possible to make up for that emotional damage lol. also i’m also having a ‘bad day’, and wish i had an understanding eddie to make it better.

warnings: mentions and subtle descriptions of depression

“through bloodshot eyes, the sky is falling. it kills when i try to push you away.” 

The room is dark when Eddie walks in. Your roommate had let him in, motioning him towards your room when he’d silently asked where you were with a look. Your door had been shut, so he knocked softly a few times. When he gets no response, he lets himself in quietly, shutting the door back behind him. 

He can barely make out the shape of you in your bed. It’s a messy mountain of blankets, a lump in the center he can only assume is you buried beneath. The only sound in the room is the hum of the fan in the corner. 

His movements are careful as he approaches, toeing off his shoes and discarding his jacket as neatly as possibly on the back of your desk chair. He takes in the state of your room: messy. Clothes litter the floor, there’s a few cups and plates stacked on the desk, your school bag is left unzipped and peaking out beneath the edge of your bed with your schoolwork carelessly poking out. There’s a half burned 3-wick candle left without its metal lid on your dresser - odd, considering you always try to recap the candles when they weren’t in use based on your incessant belief that them being left exposed would deteriorate the scent. 

“Sweetheart?” he whispers when he finally makes it to where you’re curled up, sitting on the edge of the bed as slowly as possible as to not fully disturb you. He can hardly make out the rise and fall of your shoulders as you breathe deeply. 

You’re not asleep. He knows you aren’t, because you snore. It’s something he’s light-heartedly teased you for relentlessly. 

But you’re not responding, and something in the back of his mind knows better than to press you any further. Instead, he takes a hand and gently places it where he believes your thigh is hidden. The warmth of his palm stirs you finally, and he watches as you very slowly turn and shift from beneath the covers. When he finally catches sight of you, his heart simply breaks. 

Your hair is a mess, and your eyes are glassy. Bloodshot, even. It’s obvious you had been crying, whether it was hours ago or seconds before. 

You don’t have to say a word. He stands, and you immediately lift the covers for him. He crawls into the cocoon you’ve created for yourself and so subtly invited him to join you in. Under the covers, it’s warmer than the previous chill of the room. Not by much, but still enough to be comfortable. He shifts himself into a comfortable position quickly, and in a moment’s time you’ve thrown yourself at him. You cling to his t-shirt as your face presses into his chest, leg thrown over his waist, tugging yourself impossibly close. 

He doesn’t mind. He just wraps his arms around you, letting his hand immediately go into auto-pilot as his fingers trail up and down your spine through the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. The repetitive motion melts you as you relax, moving yourself even closer to him if that were possible. Your head ends up resting against his collarbone, nearly buried in his neck, and he tilts down his chin. 

His lips meet your temple in a chaste kiss before he murmurs, “Bad day?” 

You only nod. Words seem to have escaped you for the time being. 

He doesn’t mind. You both know he’ll stay here with you as long as you need. He won’t bring up nor judge for the messy state of your room nor your mind. He won’t press you to talk if you aren’t ready to. For now, he’s content just being here for you. He’s content to hold you in his arms, to remain in this bubble until you find a way to put the pieces back together and begin to feel better. All he wants you to know right now is that he’s here, and he always has been, and he always will be. During the good days and the bad days. 

You lay there together for an endless amount of time. It’s just you and him, the smell of his stale cigarettes and drug store cologne mingling with the waning remnants of the candle and dust. Everything about the moment is safe - there’s no judgment, no pressure, and certainly no hurry. His actions are a clear wordless whisper; take all the time you need, love. We have all the time it’ll take.

When the time comes and you’re ready, he’ll have the smiles ready. He’ll have his plethora of badly timed jokes and ridiculous stories to tell. He’ll fill you in on his day, or he’ll listen to you ramble as to what’s bothering you, if anything, if that’s what you need. But the time is not now. Right now is the time for silence and heavy tranquility. For hushed healing and effortless affinity.

He’s here for you. And that’s enough for now.

[h2uji]

―🍰 BIRTHDAY SPECIAL!! 12:OOAM

note. its my birthday 3 April so I thought about writing something cute for myself and everyone who's celebrating their special day so happy birthday to me !!

The weather outside was windy and cold, the lovers are sharing a blanket together big enough to warm both of them up, they're sitting on the living room floor in front of each other blanket over their head with a dim lightning

Big warm hands cupped her cheeks causing her to close her eyes and smile enjoying the present of her husband who was showering her face with even warmer kisses

"few minutes love" she hummed pulling his right hand to her lips kissing his palm "mhm" opening her eyes she watched as those oh so pretty eyes stared deep into her e/c eyes , his eyes kept glancing at her glossed plumped lips craving to press them to his, so he did

both of their shoulders relaxed and sudden warmth ran through their bodies, it was slow and warm his hands are still on her cheeks thumbs slowly rubbing them, while hers were one his hair her fingers were running on the root of his hair slightly pushing and pulling them

as soon as they pulled away they sighed he placed his forehead against hers "still cold?"

"yeah" taking her eyes away from him she flinched looking at the window hearing slight tapping from it "aww did that scare you?" he teased smirking at the way her eyebrows frown "as if" chuckling he glanced at the clock

11:58AM

his eyes went back to her who still had a frown "what still upset?" he kissed her cheek making her slightly smile, just as he was about to stand up she pulled him by the hem of his black hoodie "nooo I am still cold cuddles please" whining she gave him her best puppy eyes, he patted her head sighing "I'll be right back love" pouting she lose her grip wrapping the blanket all over her body like a burrito

11:59AM

he grabbed two candles that were placed next to the mini vanilla cake gently placing them at the center, taking a deep breath he took the cake walking to the living room, its not like its the first time he wished or singed her happy birthday, they have been together for almost 4 years now

but it never failed to not make him nervous and excited at the same time, the way her eyes would have those spark acting shocked even tho he had never forgot her birthday, how can a someone forgot his loved ones special day?

“i am back” turning her head toward the door her pouty lips turned into shocked and cute charming smile, "love" fixing her position she sat on her knees both hands clinching the blanket tighter around her head

he replied with a 'hm' and a smile, placing the cake in front of her "3" pulling the lighter out of his sweat pants "2" he lighted the candles, she looked so adorable and the blanket wrapped around her head tightly that her cheeks squished together wasn't helping... her adorable smile, her lovely eyes how breath taken and charming"1"

12:00AM

with a melodic voice he kissed her ringed finger "happy birthday love"

ft. Your Favorite

©h2uji ⋅ Please do not repost my work ⋅ or translating it in any other platform

If you liked this you should join my taglist @holaxd43 @i0790e @sandaime @hoknieeass

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 7 Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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———————————

Chapter 7: Those Who Slither (“False Friends” in localization) (Section 1)

Within a dimly-lit room, the light of a single candle flickered from atop a candlestick.

As the curtains were drawn closed, the room felt ever so slightly warmer than it was outside.

And this was where Eliwood found Marquess Helman of Santaruz, on death’s doorstep.

Attempts to heal him were of no avail. He breathed his last few breaths in Eliwood's arms.

But perhaps because he was able to confess everything in his final moments, his expression was calm when he passed. He'd likely had to live with guilt in his good heart for a long time.

"Lord Helman… May you rest in peace…"

As Helman's body began to become cold, Eliwood gently laid him down on the bed, then closed his eyes and prayed for his soul.

☆

A short while earlier…

After successfully meeting up with Hector and his three companions, Eliwood and his group traveled towards Santaruz Castle to gather information about his father and aid in helping find him.

However, waiting near the castle grounds was yet another group of ruffians, who were also targeting Eliwood's life.

As they fought, they thought it impossible that Marquess Helman could have nothing at all to do with the ruffians running rampant in his territory. Eliwood and his allies pushed them back, then Eliwood went inside the castle to find out the truth. Waiting for him there was Helman, collapsed on the floor and bleeding.

"...I-I am sorry, Eliwood… I-If I hadn't told Elbert… about Darin's plot… none of this would have…" What Helman said as his breaths became weaker and weaker confirmed all of what Eliwood suspected to be true.

Marquess Darin of Laus was planning something, and because his father knew about it, Darin retaliated by making him disappear. Meaning Darin knew everything.

Helman then said one more curious thing.

"Beware the 'Black Fang'..."

Eliwood did not know at all what that could possibly mean, but Hector said that they seemed to be a league of assassins based in Bern. Now aware that such a dangerous group was involved in these events, he couldn't help but be worried for his father's life.

According to the information Matthew gathered when he scoured for anything he could find out around the castle, an ominous figure covered completely in a pitch black robe had often been seen coming in and out of the castle.

Regardless, Marquess Laus was pulling the strings. Eliwood and the others had now confirmed that.

He returned to his allies waiting in front of the castle gate. "We leave at once for Laus!"

Hector gave a reassuring reply. "Alright then, let's settle this!"

When their preparations to depart were complete and they were about to begin moving towards Laus, they heard what seemed to be the voices of two people arguing.

"Hm? Is someone fighting over something?"

"Oh, that's Matthew and the new recruit… Guy, I think his name was?"

Guy was a young swordsman of Sacae who kept his long hair tied back in a braid. He possessed mastery of the sword greater than anyone would imagine from someone of his youthful appearance, and prided himself in his exceptional skill as a swordsman.

Due to his struggles with money, he'd been hired by the ruffians, but at the persuasion of Matthew after Matthew saved his life, he'd become another of Eliwood's allies. Or that was supposed to be the case…

"Hold up a minute, Guy. Why did you say you're leaving?" Matthew asked.

"If you're involved, then it can't be good! I finally found someone who would pay me enough for food, and now that opportunity has already vanished!”

"So you'll become allies with bad people if they just give you money?"

Matthew hit Guy in his weak spot, causing him to stumble over his words. "Grr…! Th-They were a suspicious bunch for sure… A-Anyway, sorry to impose on you!"

He slung his belongings, stuffed in a tattered bag, on his back, and tried to walk a way, but Matthew grabbed him by the shoulder and held him back.

"Now hold on just a minute. I'm the person you owe your life to. You should repay me once for each piece of meat I gave you. And I'm certain I gave you four pieces, at least. You promised to listen to whatever I say for each one, right?"

"Grrrr…" Guy grit his teeth in frustration.

He'd met Matthew while traveling to Caelin after having spent all his money, and was so hungry he was about to collapse in the street. They happened to cross paths, and Matthew treated him to a meal, staving off his starvation. 

And it was not like Matthew to simply let him go after saving his life.

When Matthew flaunted the meat he was cooking to Guy, so hungry he couldn't move, Matthew coerced him into doing whatever he wanted. 

About to starve to death, Guy did not have the luxury of making his own choice.

"Look, I even have full proof! The words written here are yours, aren’t they?"

"Dammit!" Guy dropped his bag with a thud, and sat straight down from where he stood to sulk.

Seeing that this bit of their squabble was over, Eliwood and Hector walked up to them.

"What are you two arguing about?"

"Oh Lord Eliwood, and Young Lord Hector! We’re not arguing about anything. Guy was just trying to break a promise even though he's Sacaian, and I was giving him a good lecture about it…"

"You weren’t lecturing him, you were blackmailing him, weren’t you? …You were even so shady about it that you made him sign a contract!”

"Ha ha ha, it's fine either way, isn't it? We added a swordsman who will be a great addition to the group!"

Matthew said without even a hint of shame.

All Eliwood and Hector could do was frown.

Their journey was likely to become even more harsh. Having reliable allies would be a huge help to them, even if it was just one more person.

Though since Matthew had gone through the trouble of getting another person to join them, they wanted him to work willingly.

With that thought on his mind, Eliwood approached Guy, who was still sitting down, at his wits' end.

"Guy… was it? It seems that you joined us under some complicated circumstances, but I welcome you to our group. If you hate working just to work, then I will hire you as a mercenary, and pay in meals as well as a proper contract fee." Eliwood said, and extended a hand towards Guy.

That gesture made Guy, staring straight at Eliwood's face, tear up. 

He grabbed Eliwood's hand and stood up, then said with his chest puffed out, "You… You're a good person! If you are in need of my skills, then use me as you see fit!"

Perhaps because he had been treated so horribly by Matthew, Guy was moved to tears. 

☆

"Dammit, it's getting dark."

Hector looked up at the sky, the sun having already set, and clicked his tongue.

Eliwood's group was hurrying to leave Santaruz and enter Laus, but just as they reached a small village on the edge of Caelin’s territory, it became nightfall.

There was a small section of Caelin territory sandwiched between Laus and Santaruz. The village was centered exactly in that area.

"We have no choice but to stop here for the night. Let’s leave for Laus at sunrise tomorrow. Marcus, please arrange us a few rooms at an inn."

"Yes, Sir!" The senior general accepted his orders and immediately left to find an inn.

The village was a quiet place surrounded by a forest.

If one listened carefully, they could hear the sounds of bugs and owls, melding together like a pleasant song.

When the soft sounds reached his ears, they calmed Eliwood’s spirits from the stress he was under worrying about his father.

"So we're in Caelin territory? Should we go say hello to Hausen?"

At Hector's question, Eliwood snapped out of the trance he’d been in for a moment as he listened to the bugs’ chirping. "...We’re just passing through the tip of Caelin. There’s probably no need to. Though I am curious how Lyndis is doing…”

"Lyndis?" Having never heard that name before, Hector reacted specifically to it.

"Marquess Caelin’s granddaughter.”

"Oh, her.  The one in the inheritance dispute a year ago. Oh yeah, you helped her out then, didn't you?"

Eliwood answered with a nod.

It all started one year ago, when he'd gone to Kapathogia for their regular spar. Along the way to the village where Hector was waiting, he crossed paths with a mysterious group garbed in black robes trying to take a girl with them, and chased them off. He took the girl safely with him, then met Lyn, who was looking for her.

He learned from Lyn of the inheritance dispute in Caelin, and thinking at first sight that she was someone he could trust, he promised to assist her.

Shortly after finishing his spar with Hector, she changed her mind and visited him to request his help. When he asked her what for, she said that Marquess Caelin’s younger brother, Lundgren, was spreading false information that she was an imposter, and trying to request reinforcements so that he could chase out any evildoers from his territory.

Eliwood was angered by that injustice, and decided that he would indeed help her. He requested the marquesses of Caelin’s neighboring territories not to interfere in Caelin’s affairs.

That was all Eliwood had done, and afterwards, it became common knowledge that her efforts returned peace to Caelin.

“So? Is the granddaughter a beauty?”

“A beauty…? How can I put it… Perhaps because of her Sacaian blood, she’s very striking.”

“Hmmm… That’s too bad.” Eliwood’s words made Hector laugh a very suggestive laugh.

“What?”

“We don’t have time to go see her right now, lover boy!”

“Huh?! She and I aren’t…”

“You’re blushing!”

Hector cackled and jabbed Eliwood with his elbow.

Hector’s behavior, like that of a child who was not even ten years old yet, made even the calm and kind Eliwood angry.

He glared at Hector and said, “Hector… You’re making me mad!”

“Ha ha ha ha, you’re fun to tease!” As he was poking fun at his overly serious friend and laughing the entire time, a panicked voice suddenly reached his ears.  "Hm? Did you hear something?"

"...It was a scream. Is someone being attacked?!"

"Shall we help them?"

"Of course!"

ー

[nat-a-nat]

W 2022 roku na moim blogu pojawiło się 237 postów

O 234 posty więcej niż w 2021!

114 utworzonych postów (48%)

123 zreblogowane posty (52%)

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231 moich postów w 2022 miało tagi

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Najdłuższy tag: 82 znaki

#danny fenton/phantom is the only cartoon secret identity that actually makes sense

Moje najpopularniejsze posty w 2022:

Nr 5

Comic for Dannymay2022 !

Super proud of it, it's actually my first fully finished comic! 

(The first panel is kinda wonky cus i messed up the colors on half the piece and had to go back and fix it, still not sure how i INVERTED THE COLORS THE WRONG WAY)

106 notek (opublikowanych w 31 maja 2022)

Nr 4

Amphibia Meme

109 notek (opublikowanych w 5 lutego 2022)

Nr 3

25. Forest

He thinks about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried

He thinks about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried.

It's October now. It's getting colder. The leaves are falling. They must be covering it by now.

They crunch under his steps as he walks. Something CRUSHES under his foot. His mind pictures bones. Ribs breaking in two.

It's just a branch.

He continues his walk.

The sky is bright, but the mood is gloom. The air is moist. 

It's been a while. It must have decomposed by now, with how much rain they get. Sometimes, he thinks he can feel the dirt on his bones.

He puts a finger on his pulse. Thump. A pause. A painfully long, long, pause. It shouldn't be this long. Thump. He is alive. But his skin is cold.

His hoodie is thick. It was always enough to keep him warm. Now, he is always cold.

The ice of his core. Slowly freezing him from the inside out. 

It's shallowly buried. His corpse. Barely a few centimetres underground. A lump in the dirt hastily covered with soil. Six feet, that's how it's supposed to be.

He strays from the path. Disappeares through the trees. Like a ghost.

There's a few hiker trails in the forests surrounding Amity, but he disregards them all.

He moves through the thick foliage. There are broken branches, broken saplings. He tries to not further disturb it all.

He crushes a flower about halfway through. The stem is mangled, his shoe sole imprinted in the bud.He picks it. He rolls it between his fingers the rest of the way.

He reaches a clearing. There's a big rock in the middle. 

His soul aches. A corpse with no grave, a ghost without rest. What a pity.

He goes up to the rock. The ground underneath it is uneven, disturbed from digging.

Is it still wrong to stand on a grave if it's yours?

He kneels on the forest floor and sets a candle down. Lights it. He lays the mangled flower beside it.

A single broken flower for a lonely corpse.

He feels sorry for it. It must be sad. All alone. In a dark, cold forest. With nobody to know you died, with nobody to mourn you.

Leaving his makeshift graveyard, he felt lighter. That single candle flame keeping him warmer than any blanket.

144 notki (opublikowane w 25 października 2022)

Nr 2

Infinity Train Memes i made for the #InfinityTrainHBOMax event

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Mój post nr 1 w 2022

DANNOS

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[valoisfulcanellideux]

Some really great tips here!

One thing I'll add to these is lighting. You can convey a lot about a setting by describing the light (or lack thereof) in a location. Lighting is often affected by general weather conditions (see 'Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme', above) which allows you to mention both, if you want to :)

Some examples from my own recent writing. First, a couple of extracts detailing burgeoning autumnal weather as experienced by a nomadic caravan (fantasy setting) -

Morning brought a change in the weather. A thick mist had settled over the encampment, drifting lazily across the ground and between the tents, and creating a damp, shimmering glow around each lantern and crackling campfire. [...] The fog refused to clear, and so the camp was struck amid its damp and miserable moisture. The Great Caravan set out once more, camels and horses plodding steadily along, the guiding calls of the [caravan leaders] deadened by the encompassing mist. Overhead, the sun was a hazy smear of dull yellow; not strong enough - though trying valiantly - to burn away the mist.

By way of contrast, some snippets detailing warmer light (again, fantasy setting) -

Lifting his gaze from the page, he squinted out at the golden afternoon sunlight that shone warmly through the open windows, casting bright puddles upon the polished sandstone floor.

The door closed behind [character] and his footsteps faded away, leaving the room in silence. Early morning sunbeams pried at the shutters but could not quite make their way in. Their warm golden glow gave just enough light to see by, aided by the candle in a small copper holder beside the bed.

How to avoid White Room Syndrome

by Writerthreads on Instagram

A common problem writers face is "white room syndrome"—when scenes feel like they’re happening in an empty white room. To avoid this, it's important to describe settings in a way that makes them feel real and alive, without overloading readers with too much detail. Here are a few tips below to help!

Focus on a few key details

You don’t need to describe everything in the scene—just pick a couple of specific, memorable details to bring the setting to life. Maybe it’s the creaky floorboards in an old house, the musty smell of a forgotten attic, or the soft hum of a refrigerator in a small kitchen. These little details help anchor the scene and give readers something to picture, without dragging the action with heaps of descriptions.

Engage the senses

Instead of just focusing on what characters can see, try to incorporate all five senses—what do they hear, smell, feel, or even taste? Describe the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, or the damp chill of a foggy morning. This adds a lot of depth and make the location feel more real and imaginable.

Mix descriptions with actions

Have characters interact with the environment. How do your characters move through the space? Are they brushing their hands over a dusty bookshelf, shuffling through fallen leaves, or squeezing through a crowded subway car? Instead of dumping a paragraph of description, mix it in with the action or dialogue.

Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme

Sometimes, the setting can do more than just provide a backdrop—it can reinforce the mood of a scene or even reflect a theme in the story. A stormy night might enhance tension, while a warm, sunny day might highlight a moment of peace. The environment can add an extra layer to what’s happening symbolically.

Here's an example of writing a description that hopefully feels alive and realistic, without dragging the action:

The bookstore was tucked between two brick buildings, its faded sign creaking with every gust of wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of worn paper and dust, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a corner café down the street. The wooden floorboards groaned as Ella wandered between the shelves, her fingertips brushing the spines of forgotten novels. Somewhere in the back, the soft sound of jazz crackled from an ancient radio.

Hope these tips help in your writing!

[sunfloweraro]

May Prompts 2024

Prompt # 3 – Familiar

Twilight bathed the world in an indigo hue as Meghan made her way down the city’s cobblestone streets. She paused at every corner, wary, only moving on once she was certain the coast was clear. No one she knew would be out and about at this time, except maybe Atla, but they often had chores to do at home; she should be safe. On her back, weighing down her shoulders and spine, were her measly few possessions, tucked away in a backpack half her size. Passers-by offered curious looks as she walked by, but none stopped her. None knew her name yet, when she had yet to make one for herself. 

It was for the best. She would hate for them to see her like this, at her worst, and recognise her. 

Pay day wasn’t until tomorrow, so Meghan passed by the inns and taverns she often stayed at in favour of seeking out the only place that would accept her at this time of night and, if she played her cards right, let her stay for the night. The building towered above her at two-storeys, with a polished mahogany door trimmed with bronze that shimmered in the light of the two sconces flanking the entrance, lit for the night by staff. Meghan paused on the smooth stone steps, hesitant. Inside, she would be safe from the cold, and from the dangers that lurked within the city, slipping out from alleyways only when the light of day vanished and preying on anyone who came near enough. 

A deep breath in. She was being silly. She was a near-fully-trained knight, for the Gods’ sakes! A few books shouldn’t be leaving her on edge like this. 

But it wasn’t the books leaving her nervous; it was what they symbolised. The memories they stirred. 

Meghan shook her head, forcing stiff legs forward, into the library. Warmth enveloped her the moment she pushed through the heavy doors and she sighed in relief, eyes slipping shut to appreciate the sensation before what would come next. What always came next. The librarian reading at the desk greeted her, and the moment was shattered. 

“Good evening,” she replied, smiling back at the librarian she should really know the name of by now, what with all her frequent visits to this space. 

It’s only for winter, she told herself. As soon as the nights get warmer, as soon as I graduate, I won’t have to come back here. 

She wouldn’t have to be reminded of them. 

Her boots clicked against the polished wooden floors, and instinctively, she lightened her steps, wary of being told off and sent out of her only safe haven on these cold nights. She kept her eyes deliberately on the ground until she reached her favourite corner of the library, where the candles were dim enough for her to nod off for a few hours. She set her bag down, dropping into the plush pile of cushions pressed up against the corner to create the perfect reading nook for any bookworm. As a child, Meghan and her older sisters had taken over this space, fighting over space on the cushions and devouring every book their hungry eyes laid on, as if they didn’t have similar shelves at home, crammed with so many books, the wood groaned in protest. 

Now, the sight of the books towering over her left her nauseous, heavy guilt weighing down on her ribs. But she couldn’t go back, even if the echoes of laughter from the past filling her mind urged her to. Begged her to go home. 

As she took in the heavy hardbacks and colourful paperbacks around her, that guilt in her chest made way for something deeper. Something that ached right down to her weary heart; she missed her family. Longed for them. The simple nights, the light banter, the teasing, the forehead kisses from her Ma, and the stories read in silly voices by her Papa. 

But she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t be who they wanted her to be—she refused to change who she was, just to be accepted by them. They had never believed in her dream, had laughed when she told them, eyes sparkling excitedly as all children’s did, that she wanted to be a knight, she wanted to protect Edwin, and all who came after her royal friend. They wanted her to be a strategist, an advisor to the king, rather than a protector. 

They had tried to force her to go to that school, as if all her years training with the other to-be-knights meant nothing. 

She hadn’t seen her parents, her sisters, in months. 

With every passing day away from them, her heart tore itself a little further apart. 

But she knew what her destiny was, and it didn’t involve hiding away behind the castle walls while people sacrificed themselves under her command. Her duty was to protect Edwin, her friend; the heir to the throne, and she would until her dying breath. 

She shifted back on the pillows, her eyes slipping shut again. Shutting out the memories, the laughter, the ache in her chest. This was worth it. The lonely nights, the lies to her friends, the family-shaped pit in her chest. It had to be.

***

So. Meghan is my beloved knight who comes from a family of strategists working closely with the king. She respects this position, and she's smart, but she prefers a more hands-on approach when helping protect the kingdom; hence, she begins training to become a knight at the age of 10. Her parents have always been against this, which all comes to a head when they apply on her behalf for the best university in the kingdom and, when she gets in, forces her to go. Meghan runs away with only a handful of things that night and doesn't go back. She loves her family, and she misses them, but she knows who she wants to be; who she's meant to be. She has yet to tell her friends that she's run away several months later when they're pushed to go on a quest to save the kingdom.

Thanks again @calaisreno for the prompt! These are really making me think about my characters, and I'm loving it <3

[insolitus-academy]

♚ //  Face Claim

Full name Face Claim: Fukutomi Tsuki

Nationality: Japanese 

Faceclaim age: 20 

♚ // Character ;  Basic information

Quote: Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity. – Hippocrates

Full name character: Hōga Belle-Lilith Hotaru 

Nickname: Bell or Lily 

Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Japanese / dark realm

Age: 25

Date of Birth: 1998 September 21

Gender: genderqueer

Preferred Pronouns: She/they 

Race: nagini/dark elf

Sexual Orientation:omnisexual

What is the level of Korean and how did they learn to speak it (For non-Korean characters from other realms & other earth-countries): She studied Korean at her school so it is a pretty good level but will sometimes have trouble pronouncing some words or get confused. She has a thick accent that betrays her Japanese and otherworldy background 

♚ // Character ; Appearance

Skin Color: light gray, tans easily to a darker gray. With a slight gleam

Eye color: Dark crimson, looks dark brown in normal light- you can only see the red in direct light.

Scars: down across her legs, light scarring over her legs.

Piercings: Only ears

Tattoos: none

Hair color: It changes, currently a dark hazelnut

Abnormalities: Her pupils become slits. 

Horns/ wings/ etc.: subtle scales on her arms, legs and cheekbones. 

Transformed form: Due to her mixed blood background her snakeform takes some effort to change into but when she does she has a grey body that gleams in the sunlight- her skin is completely gray and her eyes are large and red in this form. Her ears become longer and pointier as well as her hair which is longer than before and drags over the floor if she doesn’t tie it up. Where most nagini grow in size and become formidable creatures. Belle-Lilith doesn't and stays small. 

♚ // Character ; Personality

Six personality traits:

Feisty, kind, easily-excitable, short-fused, easily bored & unpredictable

Likes: Romantic comedies with a strong female lead, all hot drinks with her favourite being speciality teas from around the world, weighted blankets and plushies, scented candles and volcanoes.

Dislikes: Spiders/arachna and any bugs/creatures that slightly resemble a spider (she even has her doubts on octopi), the cold and anyone who prefers an ice-coffee over a hot one, riddles she can’t solve or problems without an answer, people without a purpose in their life. 

Manias: N/A

Phobias: the cold, spiders

Animal: Snake! Though she would be one of the tiny snakes.

Religion: She isn’t sure yet.

Favorite song: OMG - New Jeans

Vice: Wrath

Virtue: Charity

Personality description:

Belle-lilith is kind and sweet to people when she first meets then, a very bubbly and excitable person who likes to meet new people. Though she needs some ‘me-time’ after a social outing and just sit and watch her shows in bed. She likes hanging out and helping people, which is one of her core-values in life. As a nurse she wants to be there for others. Though annoy her or say something wrong or weird and she will judge you for it and slowly inch away. Making snide comments here and there and maybe even indulge in a little gossip. 

The young woman is still maturing (especially since she is very young in elven and nagini years) and finding her way in the world. She has a bad temper and can lash out when she gets annoyed enough and say something very mean and bad. She might feel bad for it later and come to apologize even if she feels embarrassed about it all and rather just avoid someone forever for it. 

♚ // Character ; Powers

Magical Powers:

- Fire summoning: She can summon a fire in her hands and her mouth, setting things on fire. In extension, fire doesn’t hurt her much and she isn’t easily burnt.

- snake shift: she can transform into a snake but it exhausts her to do it in a cold environment. Even in warmer environments, it takes her about a week or longer to regain enough strength to shift again (normal nagini can shift every 3 days). She isn’t as large as normal nagini in her snake-form, in fact she is rather small and doesn’t gain much height. 

- Shedding: She can shed skin to heal but it takes her about a week of sleep. She won’t be moving much in that time and just hide. Throughout the months she will shad a little here and there and pluck on the skin but it isn’t as effective as a ‘full’ shed. 

- Weak healing powers: Belle-Lilith depends more on her ‘normal’ nursing skills but she has some basic healing powers that she is still training. 

Non-magical Powers:

- Nurse training: Belle Lilith trained for years to be a nurse for nagini and dark elves. She also has a good grasp on other humanoid creatures and how to heal them. 

- Sneaking: Due to both her parents being quite the stealthy creatures she is adapt at stealth and sneaking and quiet when she needs to be. 

- Extended pop-culture knowledge: She loves movies and series so she might pop in pop-culture references at any point. 

Weaknesses: 

The cold: her main weakness is that she loses all her magical abilities when she is cold. Weakening her to the point of being weaker than a human. She hates the cold and if she is a bit chilly the first powers will already go, though when she is properly shivering she becomes miserable and powerless (In case she is in her snake form she will be unable to shift back to humanoid form). 

Gold: She is allergic to gold and will get violently ill from it. It leaves marks on her skin when she touches it. 

Bad temper: Being both young and having her mother’s temper, Belle-Lilith has a bad temper that sometimes comes out at the worst of times. She doesn’t suffer much from it during her work but outside she will throw temper tantrums or just sulk a lot when she doesn’t get her way. She was quite spoiled as a young child being the only child of two rich and doting parents so she usually got her way when she was younger. The world does not work like that and that’s…. hard. 

slight social media addiction: She always has her phone in her hands, always. Well, not at work, usually, but anyway. You better text her because that is where she usually is. 

♚ // Character ; The Teacher / Staff

Job they do: Nurse

Previous job experience: Trained as a nurse for several years and worked as a nurse for a few years. 

♚ // Character ; The Past

Date of Birth: 1998 September 21

Crime Record: nonee

Has your character attended Insolitus Academy in the past?

no

Background: 

trigger warnings: war, self-mutilation (mild) 

A war unbeknownst to mankind raged on in the 1990’s, on the edge of a dark realm a greater darkness loomed as fire and ice were forced into an unfair battle. The arachnids of the icelands had come to wage a battle to extend their territory and silence the volcano of life where the nagini lived. Perhaps the nagini had been the aggressors, history did not tell the story the same from every mouth. Some said that the nagini from the South had assassinated the arachnid prince and that the great war had been revenge. Though these things did not matter to the people who had to fight the war, it was their leaders who were busy with finger (or talent) pointing and accusing the other side of the worst. It were the people who had to fight a war they had not started themselves. 

Everyone had to fight; though that was no problem for a young nagini woman. Proud and beautiful as she transformed into a large snake-like monster. Powerful and trained in poison magic she took out many of the enemies as she led a group of civilians into the fight. Protecting what was theirs- The war continued on and on, and things seemed hopeless until an old ally appeared and fought alongside the nagini. The night elves from another realm had heard the plea of the nagini and came to help them fight off the arachnids from the icelands. Fire was added to the fight, a power the arachnids were not prepared for. 

The people danced as the spiders burned. 

Though in one of the last battles the young nagini woman had been hurt, arachnid poison flowing through her veins and she was sure she would meet her maker. Throw me into the volcano, let my body help her flame hotter and higher. She whispered but the man who helped her would not hear it. A healer with grey skin and large red eyes, he did not know much about nagini physiology but he was a healer and he would  help her with all that he had. 

He saved her life and in return she saved his by falling in love with the kind-hearted man. Finding a softness she had lost during the war.

A small light formed in the darkness, it was Belle-Lilith. The child who was born between a soldier and a healer, growing up in a land where they were recovering from the war and building up again. She also visited Japan, the lands where her father had grown up, a lot. Learniing human customs next to the customs from her mother. She was a happy child and romanticised the war in her head; after all it was how her parents had met and fallen in love. 

Though she was happy, she struggled with her powers. The cold was her mortal enemy- her mother often whispered it was the arachnids to blame. That the poison she had been attacked with during the war was affecting Belle-Lilith. Her father said it wasn’t true, that the combination of a nagini who needed warmth and a night-elf like himself was just bound to turn out the way it was.

Belle-Lilith opted to believe her mother’s explanation. She often dressed warmly and surrounded herself with heaters and hot packs. Turning into her snake form was hard for her, and she would whip her own legs to make them go away. Crying as she tried to fight the legs away to get the tail she so wished for. She adored her mother, worshipped the soldier background her mother had and wanted to be like her. Her torture was her own, her father often found her and treated her wounds as she cried and screamed. Angry at an enemy she had never met. Though her smile would return at dawn again and no one would know how she struggled and fought. 

However as she grew and had to chose where she would study, she felt her heart ache not for war but for peace. To everyone’s surprise she asked her father to train her as a nurse and to go to nursing school in Japan. Rather than to train with her mother in the dark realm. She had been scared that her mother would resent her for it- nothing was less true. Her mother was grateful that her daughter followed the path of her father. One that was far better suited for the young woman in her mother’s eyes. 

Now that belle-Lilith had finished her schooling and gotten a job in the dark realm for a bit, helping out in a small doctor’s office she wants to grow further and treat more people. She studied about every creature she could get books on but only ever gets to heal nagini and dark elves. 

She applied to the academy to become a nurse there and was accepted due to her excellent resume and even though she is still young, she is fully dedicated to do well! 

Perhaps even find love (preferably without a war).