#blood rose masquerade ball event

[onsunnyside]

³¹.⍭ 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SOFT DARK themes and elements, cheating, revenge, obsessive/possessive behaviour, jealousy, competition, size difference: all 6’7-6’9, manhandling, manipulation, coercion. SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON: they’re all wearing the same mask & reader doesn’t know who it is, oral (m & f), balls sucking, fingering (f), dirty talk, chase kink, daddy kink, p*ssyjob, size kink, spit kink, choking, p*ssy spanking, exhibitionism (public sex), degradation, dumbification, ruined kink, overstimulation, squirting, creampie.

𝗪/𝗖 | 8.23K

𝗔/𝗡 | happy Halloween !! hope you all had a spooky day, here is my last fic for spicy October, a finale with all our fave daddies. enjoy !! all mistakes are my own.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“That was the money from my grandfather's will.” 

Curtis snorts, “as if you don’t have the cash to spare.” 

Ransom’s glare hardens, “It’s from my dead grandfather—I mean, my murdered grandfather. Am I not allowed to be upset that she stole money from my grandfather who was murdered in cold blood?”

“It isn’t stealing if you voluntarily spent it on her.” The other burnet countered, “I assume money is the only way you know how to show affection. Mommy and daddy didn’t know how to deal with you so they filled that emotional void with money, and you continue it in all your relationships. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

“At least I know my parents, orphan.”

Ari tunes them out, staring out the wide window into the night. The howling winds sway the forest surrounding the Thrombey mansion and the shadows bleed through the glass, covering him from head to toe in the same shade as his profound emptiness.

Three years. Three fucking years of his life gone to waste. 

Every time he blinks, he sees you from senior year. The beautiful, popular, high-achieving student who never looked his way, although he tried hundreds of times to get your attention. From playing his heart out on the football field when you were in the crowd, attempting—and failing—to be your partner for projects in classes you shared, and volunteering to help for events that you were organizing, one of those being your senior prom. The theme was an extravagant masquerade ball, strange for a year of rambunctious teenagers, but perfect for the elite private school. 

The venue was decorated in hues of vermillion, gold and grey, with speckles of white from the feathers and clear-beaded arrangements in the middle of each table. Sheer fabric and ribbon hung from the ceiling, draped low to mimic the magical atmosphere. Fairy lights glimmered alongside sparkling chandeliers, illuminating the ballroom in a warm yellow glow. Red roses, gold plates and vintage-styled candelabras sat atop black tablecloths and complemented the metallic chairs. 

During the few weeks of setting up the venue, his friends consistently poked fun because he was whipped for a girl he’s never spoken to. 

He broke that shameful streak the day before prom, and until today, that was the stupidest he’s ever felt. 

“Oh, I don’t have a date.” You answered after he asked what colours you and your date were going to wear. 

Ari’s face twisted in disbelief and utter confusion. The revelation scattered every organized thought, making him a total fool. “Why the fuck not?”

He’ll never forget the stunned expression on your face. 

“I mean—you’re really fucking pretty.” The words flew out like a swarm of wild bees, dancing in front of his horrified eyes, taunting him. 

You burst out laughing, throwing your head back and nearly toppling over one of the tables. “Well thanks, I’ve been asked a couple of times but none of them are my type. They’re all meatheads.” You finally caught your breath, soft giggles tumbling from your glossed lips. “Like the football team, ugh, just a bunch below-average, tit-brained idiots.”

Ari frowned deeply, “I’m on the football team.” He was positive you knew that, hell, you’ve organized fundraisers for the sports department. 

You grinned, “I know. But you’re actually cute when you’re dumb, way above average.” You patted his broad shoulder and walked away, the short uniform skirt swaying with each step. 

Ari remembers standing there like a moron before finally bolting after you. He caught up to you in the parking lot and asked you right then and there, almost dropping to his knees to beg when you took a second too long to answer. But you said yes, smiling so sweetly he could’ve died. 

“—the same day. The same fucking day! That has to be a record!” Curtis snarls, pointing a finger at Ransom, “and you were on a date too, so you can’t say shit about cheating, jackass.”

The playboy moves his hand with two fingers, nonchalantly shrugging. “I found someone I wanted to spend the night with, is that a crime?”

Curtis gritted his teeth, his shoulders rigid under his leather jacket, “I won her a ginormous bear and fingered her in the photo booth, and she was already fucking two other guys!”

“Dating. She was dating two other guys.” 

“Same shit!”

All this time, the second boyfriend has remained silent. Steve stares at his lock screen, a blurry photograph of the two of you the morning after a date at the pier. You’re half asleep but he wanted to commemorate the most perfect night of his life. 

He was convinced that he was the lead in a romantic film, and it all bloomed from his awful first impression. 

“Will you ever actually talk to me? Or will you just continue to stare at me from across the shop?” You smiled down at him, your skin glowing in the morning sun. “Here, you look like a cupcake kind of guy.”

A red velvet cupcake is placed in front of him, right next to his hand which had his pencil in a death grip. He quickly releases his hold and stares blankly at you, stunned and bewitched because he’s never seen you this close. Heavenly is the way he’d describe your features, each curve and dip of your face is burned into his brain from his endless sketches but at this moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. 

Since that day, he believed in love at first sight. Now? It’s up for debate. 

“Sit. I mean, please sit. Only if you want obviously.” He covers his red cheeks, not even bothering to shut his sketchbook. You already saw the dozens of drawings of you from various angles, all sprawled across the pages like they belonged there. “You know what? Never mind, I’ll go. I’m  sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 

He was going to leave, pack up his things haphazardly and dash out of the coffee shop before embarrassment ate him alive, but you called him back. 

“I’ll stay, but only if you show me what else is in there.”

And he did, shyly at first but as the minutes dragged into hours, he got more confident and gave you detailed explanations of each piece. He rambled on and on about a sketch that took up two pages, it was an elderly couple watching the sunset on the beach, the waves crashing in the background as their heavily detailed silhouettes were in the foreground. He spoke as if he knew them when he was only a mere bystander to their love story. 

“I saw them almost every day that summer. On that same bench and holding hands.” He sipped his cold coffee, never breaking eye contact with you, “They’ve probably watched tons of sunsets in their lifetime, but it’s cute, y’know? That they still do… soft things like that.”

Steve was a nice guy. He was recklessly kind, tutored people in his class, and always helped his coach with pregame preparations. He donates all his old clothes and always asks owners before petting their dogs. 

If he was so good, why did bad things happen to him? Was it his fault? 

He kept pushing you to meet his family. In his defence, you’ve been dating for two years and he talks about you nonstop, his parents have been begging to meet the girl who has their son’s heart, and praised him for finding the one so early on. 

It’s a shame that the one was never his to begin with. 

The worst part of all of this wasn’t the cheating—well, it was, but the other worse part was your blatant dismissal for taking the next step in your relationship. You’ve met their families, you were very close with Ari’s and met Curtis’ and Ransom’s who you’ve only been dating for less than a year. 

What was so different about his? 

“Cheap fucking slut.” Ransom mutters. “She’s so greedy that she needs four cocks.” 

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Steve frowns, “She’s still my girlfriend.” 

Curtis bites his tongue and swallows whatever snide remark was on the verge of spilling out. As much as it hurt, he knew where they were both coming from. He hated your guts, yet the masochist part of himself admired your bulletproof nerve and capability, and the other much softer part was still madly in love with you. 

He prided himself in being observant, reading people like open books and anticipating their words and actions so that he was always prepared—that’s why he knows how to push Ransom’s buttons. It didn’t take a genius to notice how stuck up and spoiled the brat was. He couldn’t believe how you put up with him. 

How you got away with this for so long was a wonder. Whether it was by sheer luck or cautious scheming, you played them all like puppets, pulling their strings however you pleased for the grand production. The success came with applause and satisfaction, it boosted your ego and made them into fools. 

Don’t even get him started on your fucking friends who probably worshipped you for your stellar performance, praising you for dancing on their hearts with false innocence. Curtis has met them and only now he can recall the mischievous twinkle in their eyes, he would bet that they downgraded him to a pathetic nickname like boyfriend number three. 

He would’ve noticed something sooner if you didn’t have him pussy drunk every time he saw you. He’ll admit it—he’s whipped. 

You may be a good-for-nothing cheater, but you were his fucking pornstar. 

He supposes that’s the thing about pornstars, they surely got around. 

Curtis wouldn’t openly admit it to the rest of the guys—his girlfriend’s other boyfriends—but if you called him right now and asked him to come over, he’d be on his motorcycle in the blink of an eye. You were a twisted, disgustingly hot mastermind who could spit in his face and choke him, and yet, he’d still dick you down. He was into that freaky shit anyway. 

Of course, as much as he pretended, he wasn’t all tough. Under that steel demeanour, he’s aching, battered with betrayal and fears of inadequacy. 

Grey clouds loomed over that island of self-doubt, a place all four of them have since sailed to and made home, sharing their confusion, anger and grief. 

All of this mess started from simple curiosity. Ari recognized a little lacy thing in one of his fraternity brothers’ rooms, and lo and behold, it was your panties, the same ones he bought you a few months prior. 

“Oh, oops. My girl left those in my pocket.” Curtis chuckles and waltzes in, dropping his skateboard by the closet. He’s wearing that signature black beanie and carrying that smell of cigarettes and mint gum. “She’s so cheeky, huh?”

Ari doesn’t acknowledge him at first. His fingers feel around the fabric before hooking in a hole by the band, and then his heart stops. 

The other brunet watches strangely, “Uh, can I have those back?”

Perhaps any other person in a fit of confused rage would’ve wrapped their hands around Curtis’ throat, but Ari didn’t. He’s caught off guard when Ransom walks by and pops his head in, his blue eyes locking on the purple lace with blue bows. 

“Where did you get those?”

Those five words erupted an argument that shook the walls. Curses were spat and accusations were pointed every which way until the world decided that three out of four wasn’t enough.  

Steve was on his way home when he heard the shouts from a few houses down. 

He burst into the bedroom with wide eyes and was welcomed by his friends arguing and tearing crumbled lace from each other’s hands. Then, the universe works its magic again and the sheer fabric lands on the floor a few feet away from him. 

His gaze drops and he cocks his head to the side, but that puzzlement swiftly fuses into disbelief that shakes him to the core. The air falls to an ear-splitting silence as realization dawns, freezing them all where they stand. 

The first to speak is Ransom, he lets out a boisterous laugh. “What a little cock hungry bitch. Well played, I’ll say, well played.” 

After everyone calmed down and Steve stopped crying and dry heaving, they made the journey to Ransom’s mansion for the sake of privacy, who knows what their other fraternity brothers would think? They’d pity them, but no one would understand their circumstances. No, that gracious gift was split between the four of them. 

“So, who gets to have her?” All eyes fall on Steve, the 6’8 figure hunched in a small chair and clutching a pillow to his chest. 

Me—is spoken in all their heads. Fury, greed and vengeance don’t mix well with love. 

“I had her before you.” Curtis says to Ransom and reclines on the leather couch, stretching lazily, “Did I forget to mention she sucked my dick that night? Oh… and you kissed her too, huh?” He smirks, “I don’t know about you but I’d rather not know my parents than know what a stranger’s dick tastes like.”

Ransom clenches his jaw, “You poor cunt—”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girl you ditched that day is still into you. Call her up and see how that goes, trust fund baby.” 

“If we’re going with whoever had her first…” Steve trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He cried when he found out about your unfaithfulness, and he cried on the way to the mansion and already excused himself a few times to cry in the bathroom, yet he was seconds away from crying again. “Then i-it’s you.” 

Six blue eyes pool with hesitance, then tentatively land on the tallest frat boy. 

Ari’s wounds run the deepest, piercing through his skin that you’ve marked with your lips and hands. You’ve branded him, traced your name on his chest as you two talked mindlessly about the future, where you see yourself after graduating from that pretentious university halfway across the world. 

It wasn’t the distance. If it was, why did you date three other guys from the same city as him?

“Has she contacted any of you? While you two were arguing, she tried calling me.” He stares down at the missed call. The candid contact photo glares back, it was from your last birthday just before you blew out your candles. A surprise party he planned for you. 

Everyone checks their phones. 

“She just cancelled our date.” Ransom grits his teeth, glaring at the screen with your adorable yet revolting apology. 

I promise I’ll make it up to you, daddy! I have a huge project coming up but I’ll miss you! Please don’t forget about me :(

“Ours too. Apparently, she has a project.” Curtis itches to call you right now and give you a piece of his mind but he’d rather see your face when your castle of lies crumbles to the ground. 

You were always so pretty when you were helpless and ruined. 

Steve’s phone is the last to chime. He gulps nervously and flips it over with a furrow between his brows. “She wants me to visit her next week.” 

“Fucking bitch.” Ransom growls, throwing his phone across the room, it dents the wall with a loud thump. Everyone would be taken aback if he hadn’t broken four glasses already. 

“I—uh, what do I say? Do I make up an excuse that I can’t go?”

Ari uncrosses his arms, blinking slowly. He was calm and it was terrifying considering how furious he should be. He knew you first, he fell for you first, he had you first, yet he was as peaceful as a boat on a gentle stream. “You don’t want to see her?”

Steve slumps over in a big hunk of muscle trapped in a too-small t-shirt. For someone usually happy and energetic, it was comical to see the new star player of the football team so defeated. Millions of bodychecks and tackles couldn’t amount to the gut-wrenching aches and emptiness, and Ari was the only one who understood that too. 

He still wasn’t over the fact that he’s been playing on the same team as the guy who was fucking his girlfriend—their girlfriend?

“Of course I do. I love her.” 

Steve was soft, to say the least, everyone knew that when they saw him walk into the fraternity house with a wide smile and a tray of freshly baked cookies, “I wanted to make a good impression and my ma says food is the best way to do it,” he said in a Brooklyn accent, “can’t have my frat brothers hating me, that’d be a shitshow.” 

Hate wouldn’t be the word they’d use, but they weren’t completely comfortable with each other like before. 

What are the chances that all your boyfriends enroll in the same college and join the same fraternity at the same time, even when all of them were attending different schools the previous year?

Fate was probably fed up with your deceitfulness. 

“You’ll invite her here and we’ll all have her.” Ari decides, his dark eyebrows knitted tightly, “we’ll share. That means, the two of you get along or get out—”

“—this is my house.”

“I didn’t fucking ask.” He snaps, “If this is going to work, we’ll have to get along, or at least pretend to. And at the end of the night, no one loses, no one wins, but she gets what she deserves.” 

For the hundredth time, Steve looks down at your hand in his. Your freshly manicured hand contrasts with his black gloves, and the glitter nail polish matches the dainty diamond on your ring finger, the one he bought you for your one year anniversary. You got him a chain necklace that he’s never taken off and with his bubbling nerves, it feels like the silver is burning through his skin.

“You okay, baby?”

As always and regardless of the conditions, he swoons at your lovely voice. Oh, he was neck-deep in his desire, trapped and made into a damn clown, yet his heart still sang for you. 

“Yeah, doll. Are you?”

You grin and kiss his cheek with your glossed lips. “I’m perfect, daddy.” You’re happy that Steve begged you to come home instead of flying him to you. 

This was your first time visiting his new college and elite university parties were nothing like the ones in the city. They lacked closeness and freedom since everyone was concerned about wrong angles or nasty rumours. Here, people just wanted to dress up, have fun, and celebrate Halloween on rented-out property in an old farmhouse. 

“I’ll get you another drink.” Steve pats your hip and you scoot off his lap, occupying the free spot on the couch. He asks around for other refills and turns to you, tilting your chin up with his finger, “You want something to eat too?”

“No thanks, do you want me to come?”

Steve snorts, brushing you off with a claim of chivalry. You watch him walk away and ignore that little voice of guilt, the hushed dejected calls of three other names. They didn’t matter right now, you were with Steve and thinking about them any longer put all of your relationships at risk. 

You love them all, but in different ways. There were different things to love about each of them, distinct qualities to admire, and little habits to remember. You were diligent with everything, that’s why you’ve gotten away with it for so long. 

You grew up quite spoiled, always getting whatever you want from your parents who never used the word no. It was all on a shiny silver platter, from prized jewelry to new wardrobes, fancy cars and luxurious vacations. That part of you never grew up, you still wanted it all and got it—just like how you wanted four men and got them. They weren’t disposable to you, no, they were the loves of your life. You valued them, but obviously not enough to respect their trust and the sanctity of your relationship. 

When Steve returns, you don’t waste any time. Your body presses against his and your lips trail down his neck, gently pushing the hood off his blond head, “I’ve missed you, daddy. Haven’t you missed me too?”

Steve has since gotten over his heartbreak and nerves. It took a bit of liquid courage and some direction from Ari, but he was ready. No longer a sad, pouting puppy but a vengeful beast, smelling out your lies like a fresh kill. It’s that deep-seated hunger which spurs him on, prompting him to pull you to the dance floor for a few songs. He yearns to feel your body against his, your irresistible warmth, and that magnetic force that pulled him to you two years ago. 

You turn around in his hold, slowly grinding against his thigh. “I did what you asked…” You trail off, bringing his hand under your tutu. It isn’t out of character for you to be so forward, but it catches you off guard when he gropes your flesh. His fingers trace over the plug through your nylon tights and lace leotard. “Did I do good, daddy?”

“So good, baby.” His voice drops low, rumbling in his chest, his hard bulge rubs against your hip. “You always do so good for me.” 

You were his best girl, his pretty doll who couldn’t do any wrong. He’d do anything you asked, bend over backwards to fulfill your any wish but that would change tonight. It was time for you to be stretched thin for his demands and satisfy his needs. 

“I want to feel your mouth on me.” 

Under any other circumstances, Steve would have felt embarrassed for saying that aloud, but all those worries fly out the window when your eyes twinkle and you nod obediently, truly the whore that Curtis said you were—well, he actually called you a fuckhole.

Steve wrongfully thought your body was his for the past two years, but at this moment, he chose to believe you were wholly his. 

“You okay, sweet girl?”

You nod eagerly with your mouth locked around one of his balls, your tongue traces the seam before suckling. You’re so messy and struggle to take his full sack, slobbering filthily as saliva dribbles onto your pristine costume. 

His gaze locks on your face, your cheeks are wet and hot with tears, and his spit hangs out the corner of your swollen lips. Your tongue swipes out for it before licking up his leaky cock, following the protruding veins to the fat tip. 

“You like when I stroke your cock, daddy?” 

“Yeah, baby. Go deeper, you’ve done it before.” His neck tenses when you gag on his cock, fisting what couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

The music vibrates throughout the house, the loud conversations flowing in from under the bathroom door, but you didn’t care, not even with your sore knees pressing into the cold tiles, or your feather headpiece jostling with every bob. 

His heavy weight on your tongue and his taste filling your mouth sends tingles through your body, but you force your hand away from your throbbing cunt. This was for Steve, your sweet, loving and fucking hot boyfriend Steve.  

“So pretty down there, doing so good for me.” Steve pants heavily, guiding you to kiss up and down his pulsating length. The mushroom head is enveloped between your lips and you lick his slit. You’re usually a tease, but Steve has different things in mind. 

He secures a hand behind your head and pushes down until his tip hits the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing, but it’s futile with his massive length violating your airways, hammering deep and rough. You choke around his girth, saliva spills down your chin, and tears pool in your eyes but you’re determined to bring him to that precipice. You take whatever he gives—from more spit on your face to brutal thrusts. 

He forces you down further and rocks his hips, fucking your mouth like he hated you. “Look up at me, wanna see my pretty girl sucking my cock.” 

You preen under his words, blinking up at him as tears stream down your face. Wet, garbled noises fill the small bathroom as you cling to his hips over his tattered robe, piercing the thin fabric with your nails. 

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl. Take daddy’s cock,” like the dumb whore you are. A stupid slut who isn’t content with only one man but needs several to suck dry—you’ve stolen it all, their time, money, and love. You didn’t deserve his cum right now, but Steve was too fucking soft. 

He growls your name, pumping your mouth full of his hot seed. There’s so much that some seeps through the corners of your lips, following in the lines of your spit and tears, deliciously ruining your makeup. He forces you to stay there, filled to the brim and choking on his cum. After what felt like hours, he lets you pull off. You immediately swallow his seed and lick the sensitive tip for any rogue droplets, peppering messy kisses up the flushed flesh. 

He helps you stand and rubs your cheek, smearing the spit, cum and tears into your skin. You moan and dip down, suckling his fingers and slowly lifting your dress. In the mirror, he sees your ass through the paper-thin nylon and sheer white leotard, and that plug snugly in your puckered hole. 

The reflection only emphasizes the differences, you clad in a blinding, pure white against his black robe, glittering and feathery while he was dark and looming. The similarities are only visible to him, two people playing pretend. He thinks you should win an award for your performance. 

You’re smaller than him, and so much weaker. He could pick you up and fuck you senseless against the wall, make your whines pour out for everyone to hear. 

“Wanna see it, daddy? I did it for you.”

He does, but his phone vibrates on the counter. 

Ransom: Time’s up. We don’t have all night.

It physically hurts to push you away. “In a bit, sweet girl. Let’s go enjoy the party, okay?”

The night goes on, party songs blare through the old farmhouse, rattling the old walls and windows. It’s safe to say you were momentarily satisfied after blowing Steve, the night was still young and you had all weekend to jump his bones before you left the city. 

You found a group of people to chat with, easily joining their conversations. They were interested in your private school life, so you entertained them with stories of your strict years in ironed uniforms from your early childhood to university career but unlike them, you had zero knowledge about Greek life. 

Apparently, there were a few fraternities on campus, “your boyfriend is in one, didn’t he tell you?”

“Uh, no. He didn’t.” 

You almost forgot which boyfriend you were here with until one of them asked where Steve went, and Halloween night must bring magic because just as they asked, your date popped up from the backdoor. He headed straight for you and tugged you away by your arm, not bothering to greet your new friends. 

You giggle, already tipsy from your first few drinks. “Where’d you run off to?”

He doesn’t respond and drags you outside, weaving through the bodies crowding the back porch illuminated by fairy lights. The crisp air fills your lungs, tainted with smoke, but it’s refreshing after being in a stuffy house all night. 

You apologize to the few people you bump into, blindly stumbling after your boyfriend. He’s practically body-checking people out of the way and hauling you like dead weight. He’s so rough that your bag slips from your wrist. “Steve, my purse!” 

Ransom huffs and spins around to grab your bag before continuing his trek to the woods, slowing down for your sake. This time, you follow easily, slightly inebriated and giddy, not questioning a thing—even though Steve was acting very different tonight, you were excited about anything else he had in store. 

The darkness grows the deeper you walk, the light from the farmland property swallowed by the vast abyss. You make out the shapes of the trees and your boyfriend in the muted moonlight, although your dress is still bright, especially the rhinestones glimmering across your body. 

“I wish we matched costumes… I need my prince.” You flirt, “I am a princess after all.” 

The irony almost makes him laugh. You dressed as an untouched white swan, a cursed princess. There was no purity within you, the bleached tulle and feathers on your body were nothing but a mockery for delicacy and heartache. 

“We could’ve been the cutest couple here! But you just wanted to hide under that robe. Are you scared I’m gonna find some marks that aren’t from me?”

Your teasing is cut short when he pins you against a thick tree, your back slams into the jagged bark and the back of your head throbs dully. Stars cloud your vision and you almost don’t notice when he drops to his knees between your legs. “What the hell—Steve!” With his head under your tutu, he makes quick work of tearing off his mask. The ghostly disguise falls to the forest floor face up, the horrid expression glaring at you. 

You try to pull up your dress but he bats your hands away, quickly distracting you with a flat tongue up your clothed cunt. You gasp and your thighs tremble when his wet muscle flicks against your clit, his saliva and your slick soaking through the white lace. 

“W-Wait, right now? I, fuck.” Your back arches when he bites your thigh. 

The silent night is interrupted by an awful tear. Your nylon tights meet the same fate as your lace leotard, torn to bits by his wild hands. 

“Daddy, uhm, I don’t—” Your voice breaks into a moan when his thick fingers slide to the hilt and he harshly sucks your clit. He doesn’t work you up to it, no, he starts like a starved man. He fucks you with two fingers, nudging the plug with his other hand while dining on your button. He latches onto the nub, massaging the nerves with his tongue as your pussy clenches around his digits, sucking him in. 

He’s so rough and sloppy, making out with your cunt and hungrily slurping up your juices, disgracing the surrounding nature with the lewd noises and his guttural groans. Acting as if he hasn’t touched you in a lifetime.  

Ransom briefly considers fucking up the whole plan just to see you properly. He misses your pretty face, your messy cunt and weepy hole, he feels you dripping but he would do anything to see your creaminess coating his fingers, just like his pinky ring. 

The tree bark digs into your back as he hoists you higher. His spit splatters against you before his teeth drag along your clit and he nibbles mockingly. He soothes any aches with his tongue, trailing down your slit to lick into your hole. You whimper when hard slaps land on your nub, and he isn’t as kind this time around and rubs it roughly, bullying your sensitive button with his skilled fingers. 

“Uh! D-Don’t stop, daddy. Please don’t stop.” You pant, already on edge from your previous escapade in the bathroom. You wondered why he didn’t touch you then, and now you’re thankful you waited. Your body has a mind of its own and rocks against his clean-shaven face, fucking yourself on his tongue. He hums against you, either with some degrading comment or praise, you didn’t care. 

You fist his hair under your tutu, legs quivering as he replaces his wet muscle with his digits, pumping knuckle deep. His fingers hit that rough patch with every thrust, forcing your juices out and into his awaiting mouth, racing you toward that edge of euphoria. 

His faint curses go muffled as you convulse, your thighs lock around his head, trapping him against your pussy. You cry out his name, so close to your high that you can taste it—sweet, addictive and full of relief, but you’re yanked from that delight when he pulls back. 

The cold rushes against your wet folds, making you whine from the abrupt loss of his wet warmth. Your concerns die in your throat when he puts on his mask, wiping his fingers on his robe. Your weak legs drop to the ground as he leans back and tilts his head, studying you behind the plastic face. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, the tightness unravelling within your stomach. “Why—Why’d you stop?”

All he does is laugh and stand up, dusting off his knees casually. You call out his name and in confusion, watch him turn around and walk back to the house, leaving you in the forest alone, soaked, and fucking high and dry. 

At the sight of that familiar mask, you duck and turn the other way. Your drink is almost done so you toss it in the trash and sway through bumping bodies, ignoring the heavy footsteps that are somehow louder than the bass. 

Were you avoiding him? Yes, but with his tall stature, he could easily spot you above the crowd and that limited your hiding spots. 

He deserved it for leaving you out there like a sacrificial lamb. What would’ve happened if you had been shitfaced drunk? You’d probably pass out on the ground and freeze to death, and he’d be responsible for it, the dumb fucking jerk! If he abandoned you out there now, there was no telling if you’d find your way back to the house because tonight, you found out that more drinks go well with holding grudges. 

You scream when your whole world is flipped upside down, and instantly recognize that stupid tattered robe, “Everyone can see my ass, jerk!”

Curtis snorts, you’ve probably fucked everyone in this room already and showing them your ass should be the least of your worries. 

You’re set on your feet in a dark corner of the packed living room, the strobe lights flash across the heads of partygoers, and the music booms loudly, drilling some pop song into your head. He pulls you flush against his chest, crushing your tutu between your bodies.  

“Get off me, asshole.” You try to wiggle free, but he’s too strong and big, he doesn’t even flinch when you stomp on his foot. “Ugh, I said get off!” You squirm when his hand slips between your thighs, meeting your bare cunt. “Steve!”

A sharp spank lands on your pussy, making your legs go numb but he holds you up with one arm, rubbing torturously slow circles on your swollen nub. With the booming music and the alcohol flowing through your system, you don’t register the different voice in your ear. 

“That isn’t what you call me.” 

You shiver, the warmth radiates off his body, luring you with his presence. You’re still wet and so sticky that your slick has smeared to your inner thighs, right where his fingers are tracing now. His touch ignites that fire again, all too effortlessly making you into a needy mess. 

In the flickers of red, he can see every thought leave your head. Dumb little girl. You thought you could hide from him? 

Curtis’ reaches in the slit of his robe to unbuckle his belt, and you’re too preoccupied with riding his fingers. His cock slides between your soaked, ruined folds, replacing his hand as he prods at your soppy hole. You go slack as he rocks slowly but never strays too far, letting you feel every inch.

“D-Daddy, oh!” You snap your jaw shut, “what are you—”

“Hush, you don’t want people to catch us, right?” He asks, thrusting forward until he nudges your puffy button, rubbing the sensitive nerves with the tip. He groans lowly, Ransom really bullied you down there.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your thoughts jumbling together from the overstimulation. “We—We shouldn’t, daddy…” Your voice fades when his hand wraps around your throat, his rough fingers digging into your skin and he forces you to face the crowd.

“None of them know who you really are, huh? What you really are?”

If anyone looked over, they’d instantly know what was going on. It was obvious from your blissed-out expression and his rocking hips, your weak hands grasping at his forearm as he squeezed harder. 

The oxygen goes thin as your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly and soon he’s your only support. His beefy arm pins you to his chest, keeping you from falling over as he thrusts into your weepy folds, the bulbous tip catching on your hole but never penetrating. 

If he could, he’d spit in your mouth, make you gag on his saliva until it dribbled down your chin. He wants the whole world to know what a slut you are, and how needy you get for cock that you’ll let him use you just feet away from other people. 

Curtis knows you love the risk. He knew that the moment he met you—because you kissed him in the photo booth and slipped his hand up your skirt, begging in your soft voice for him to touch you. 

Your lips part with a silent moan. He can’t resist slipping two fingers into your mouth, reminiscing when you sucked his dick that very same day and swallowed everything he gave you. Fucking cockslut. There were times when you dropped to your knees under his desk and rubbed over his clothed cock until he let you suck him off. You loved when he used you and when he was mean, acting like a damn bully instead of your loving boyfriend. You wanted to be degraded, ruined and downgraded to a cocksleeve, and that’s why you were his fucking pornstar. 

He still has that photo strip of you smiling, all fucked out and dumb with spit, tears and cum on your face. Your very first picture together and you didn’t even know his last name at the time. 

“Pl-Please let me come this time, daddy.” You plead, weakly meeting his thrusts. 

This time?

Curtis holds back a huff, of course, Ransom would tease the hell out of you. No wonder you’re so pathetic right now, not even thinking straight as he takes you apart on his girth. The partygoers couldn’t see his face, but they could see yours, and how stupid you looked getting fucked in the corner of the room. 

“You gonna come for me and cover daddy’s cock in your cream?” He asks, “Come in front of all these people, show ‘em what a fucking whore you are.”

If you weren’t so dazed, you would’ve realized that Steve has never called you a whore, he barely used slut either. Preferring to call you his sweet baby, his pretty doll, his girl, as he took you apart with suffocating love, those long fingers and his monstrous cock. 

Your high topples over and you cling to his arm, victim to the wave of bittersweet relief. Your orgasm coats his length, claiming him as it streams down your legs, seeping into your tights. You’re so lost in the pleasure and unable to contain your loud pitiful mewl, drawing a few drunken gazes. 

Curtis crowds you, blocking their eyes and presses you into the wall. He grips his cock, slapping the head against your pulsating clit before drawing back, the tip barely pops in before his seed spurts out, filling you up. Some escapes and the thick white cum follows in the trails of your squirt, and the feeling of being owned almost gets you worked up again. 

You can’t hear much with the blood rushing through your head, but you make out a few words: “bathroom” and “clean yourself up.” 

“W-Wait, we’re goin’ too far…” You slur, clutching the fresh seventh or eighth drink that your boyfriend shoved into your hand. Your previous one spilt all over the floor when he hauled you out of the bathroom. You barely finished cleaning yourself up before he barged in. “It’s your fault I was a mess, daddy… You can’t be mad at me.” 

He doesn’t speak or falter, his purposeful strides so long that you flounder after him. 

“Where are we,” you hiccup, “going?” When faced with no response, you dig your feet into the ground, but your ballet flats are useless in the dry, crumbling dirt. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” 

He stops suddenly and you squeak, bumping into his broad back. Punch—or whatever it was—spills out of the cup splashing onto your white dress, staining the tulle and feathers a bright scarlet. 

“Ugh, Steve! Look what you did!”

He turns around, cocking his head like you were a child throwing a tantrum. 

Your feeble attempts at cleaning the mess only make it worse and spread the vibrant red. “I really liked this costume, and now look… It’s like I was stabbed.” You pout, the alcohol making you a little emotional. “Y-You ruined it! And I-I felt so pretty today—” 

He wraps you in his arms, cooing softly while rubbing your back. You drunkenly cling to his warm body, feeling his muscles under the hooded robe. 

“Let’s stand here for a bit… you gave me a lot of drinks.” You nuzzle into his chest, brushing off the difference of his cologne. Cold night air brushes along your nylon-clad legs, fluttering the delicate mesh of the tutu. You’ve lost some rhinestones as the night went on, but nothing a little hot glue couldn’t fix. “You’ve never done public stuff like that, Stevie. You’re usually so private about us.” 

He shrugs, the booming music is distant but the heavy bass still pounds in your ears. 

“You don’t wanna admit it? C’mon, I won’t tell.” You flutter your lashes, a trick that always works. “I’m into it too, and how you caught me off guard only makes it better.” 

Through blurry vision, you spot a guest house a few ways away. The lights are off, the driveway is empty, and an idea pops into your head. “We could have some real fun, daddy. Don’t you wanna have fun with me?”

This time he hums and drags his hands down your back, gripping your waist. He yanks you close, pushing an oof from your throat. 

“You’re never so rough either.” His bulge presses against your front and you nearly drop to your knees right then and there. “Do you wanna keep the mask on?”

He nods, the lifeless black eyes and dramatically opened mouth absorbing any light, contrasting with the ghostly white face. He’s looming like a shadow the size of a mountain, intimidating you by merely looking at you with a dead gaze as daunting as the creepy fictional character. 

You thought Steve didn’t like horror movies. 

You lean up to kiss him, but he spins you around so quickly that you almost fall over. Tall corn stalks and various pumpkins sit on hay bales under an archway forebodingly lit by lanterns. 

You giggle, “Ooh! You wanna race to see who finds the exit first? I’ll have you know, I’m quite the pro. I go whenever they have one at the pumpkin patch!”

Ari fucking knows that because it’s one of your traditions. You two go every year and get hot chocolate and fresh pie, then head to the corn maze for your annual competition. As always, you get a head start and he pretends to get lost so you have to find a way out together, and he’ll try—and fail—to fool around with you. Your excuse? “There are families here!”

As if you hadn’t begged him to fuck you in the closet when you were visiting his family for spring break. He had to gag you with your panties, you were so needy and pleading for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you stupid just doors away from his parents. 

You wanted to be caught that day, and right now he wished he let you walk out with his cum on your face. Perhaps then, you’d be filled with humiliation just like the four of them. 

He wanted you to think you got away with it, that you’re still the queen and they’re stupid pawns to your game. Just so he can watch the despair wash over your face, the broken pride will fall from your lips in half-assed apologies. 

You’ll cry and beg for forgiveness, for mercy, but they won’t give it to you. No, they want you to suffer, wallow in distraught—just as Odette did when Siegfried swore to love another. 

He watches you run off, your loud inebriated laughter flowing into the open air, joyous and free, the complete opposite of what you’ll be when the clock strikes midnight. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees three other hooded figures emerge from the forest. One by one, their stark white masks are bathed in the moonlight, screaming or crying or both. He sets your purse by the entrance after taking your cell phone, and only then does he enter the maze. 

It isn’t long until he catches up to you, following the fallen feathers from your costume like breadcrumbs. 

You’re leaning against the haystack wall, flashing him a mischievous smile. Your hands drag down your body, teasingly pulling down the front of your dress to expose your cleavage. 

He steps towards you, craving the heat of your skin. He wants to know just how much the other guys ruined you, but you duck under his arm and race deeper into the maze, giggling madly. 

“Gotta be faster than that, daddy!”

The further you go, the darker it gets. Everything looks the same, all varying in shades of green but you try to not get distracted, sugary sweet victory is hot on your mind. You slow down and listen for heavy feet on the grass, but all you hear are crickets and the gentle wind. 

You scream when thick arms wrap around your waist, heaving you high into the air and pinning you against a haystack. Built arms hook under your thighs as his hips slip snugly between your thighs, brushing your overworked core. 

You laugh, “this is like the movie! What does she say?” You think for a moment, “No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!” You burst into laughter, playfully kicking your feet, “now the stain makes… uh… sense! It makes sense!” 

The shadows cloud over his masked face, making him look sadder or more scared. Horrified would fit the best, but your drunken head couldn’t find the word. 

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” 

All blood drains from your face and fills your heart, sinking it straight to hell and taking your carefree smile with it. 

“What? You don’t miss me?” His deep voice slices through the silence, “Oh, or do you miss someone else more?” From each turn enter three more figures, matching black robes clad over their shoulders with the hoods pulled down, accentuating their stark white disguises. 

He flips up his mask, making you nauseous in a single motion. “Happy Halloween, bunny.” His long hair frames his pale face and his eyes gleam with cruel amusement as a twisted grin plays on his pink lips. 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 

“Poor girl, did you lose your voice?” Number three. 

“That’s a shame, I love hearing you scream.” Number four.

The rest of the men remove their masks and your eyes drift over each of them. The sick glee drips off their faces and entwine with ferocious hunger. They surrounded you like predators to prey, the reapers to bring you to your inescapable fate—and they were ecstatic about it. 

Number two doesn’t look as happy as Curtis and Ransom, in fact, his expression was unreadable. He was quiet and cold, not only with his schooled features, but he didn’t speak like the rest of them. 

When Steve got quiet, he was terrifying because you didn’t know what to expect. You could only imagine the things going through his head, your sweet, loving, baker boyfriend had a dark side, one that you’ve only seen a handful of times if some guy hit on you. 

He always managed to leave the scene before things got too intense, but you feared this wasn’t one of those times. 

“N-No…”

“No? Did you miss me the most then?” Ari asks mockingly, blue eyes drawn low, “you loved me first, so you must love me the most too.”

You can’t feel the tears streaming down your numb cheeks but you know they’re there, and that’s only confirmed when Ari wipes one with his thumb, and sucks it into his mouth. Your salty misery is his favourite taste but it isn’t enough, all four of them want your ultimate destruction. 

“Cry all you want, bunny. Karma doesn’t give a shit if you’re sad or scared.” Oh but they wanted you to be petrified, “You reap what you sow—and for you, sweetheart, it’s time to bite the bullet.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: did someone say a hate fucking gangbang? Bc that’s what’s going to happen. we're starting no nut November with nuts, but oops !! p.s. the date for the next part is on the fic masterlist.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! check out the rest of my kinktober masterlist for my other spooky slutty fics !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[onedaughterofman]

Dark waltz (Vampire! Papa Emeritus x g/n reader)

Summary: Between sleep and awake, you meet your lover once again. Together, you waltz under the moonlight.

Tags: Any Papa you want (you and I both know you're thinking about Dracopia, tho). Mentions of blood, vampirism.

A/N: I wanted to write a little something as a New Year's gift. I listened to a lot of "vampire music" playlists on youtube, but I guess the song that inspired this is a slowed down version of "Merry go round" from Howl's Castle.

In the night, your eyes are closed. How beautiful the dark is, how many treasures remain hidden within it. The light can’t compare to the eerie beauty of darkness, to the peaceful embrace of the unmeasurable void.

Lids pressed tight, you take one deep breath before allowing your mind to drift far away. The sheets are soft and silky, warm with your body heat, and the bugs sing outside the windows. In the distance, your ears recognize the old, distorted toll of the abbey’s bells.

One, two, three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

The faint candle light is the first thing your eyes see. Then, the finely decorated ballroom, the paintings on the wall, the silver masks and the fancy clothing. Finally, standing in the middle of the room with one gloved hand extended in your direction, it’s him.

A man whose name remains a mystery to you, almost as hidden as his nature. You don’t recall how this started, how the darkness swallowed from your bedroom and spat you one night in this beautiful, bewitching place. A chapel, he says it is. A chapel of rituals, of parties and dances, of masquerade balls.

The floor clicks with each step you take. Remaining still, hand lingering in the air, Papa awaits for you to encounter him in the middle. He regards you with sultry eyes and a penetrating stare, mouth stretched in a kind but tight smile. Those lips are the same he uses to whisper endless promises of eternal love in your ears, but right now they remain shut.

He’s silent, and silently he escorts you to the middle of the dance floor. The leather of his glove is cold on your skin, but the sensation is pleasant, nevertheless. Papa stops suddenly, briefly bowing before placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. The gesture is not a surprise, since he always does it, but it never matches the profane and lascivious nature he has showed you during the previous meetings.

As chaste and polite as he might behave during these events, you know that’s only an act. A game, even, of cat and mouse he likes to play with you. Papa guides you around the room following the slow pace of the music, turning and swaying delicately with each note. His hands remain on your back, not ghosting anywhere else.

Oh, how much you tremble and yearn for more. Having him so close, feeling his cold breath over your skin and his touch on your body makes you shiver with anticipation. He’s yours, he said a long time ago, under the pale moonlight. Dancing around the garden, he professed his love and want for you, promising to always find you no matter what.

“In this place,” he said, holding you close, “between sleep and awake it’s where I will love you always.”

Among the trees, the rose bushes and the never-ending stars, Papa continued. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere, through Heaven and Hell.”

You never comprehended what he meant. Even now, spinning around the ballroom to the beat of the music, you don’t understand him. There’s fire in his eyes, you saw it, and his mouth meets yours in a way that feels familiar even if you had never kissed him before. In his arms, laying on his bed or walking through the long hallways, you feel at home.

Papa never stays for long, though. At some point, inevitably you blink and he’s gone, nothing but a pleasant and confusing memory to cling to during the days. He only meets you in the dark, during the middle of the night, when the cats roam the streets and the bats chirp in the sky.

When the song end, his steps halt. You lean forward, pressing your head on his chest. There’s not a sound there, not warmth or the lullaby of a heartbeat. He’s cold as always, body stiff in a way that makes you fear he’ll break. As powerful and ethereal as Papa constantly looks, there’s is a certain fragility within is skin and muscles.

He is not quite human, you fear. He rejected that part of himself a long time ago, Papa confessed upon your questioning. One day, you might reject it too, and the two of you could spend together the eternity, bathing in the thick, warm fluid of life.

Soaking in blood from head to toe, fighting to calm the frantic beating of your heart as his mouth presses on your flesh, sharp teeth grazing the skin. That’s how this meeting always ends. Papa’s tongue follows the faint outline of your artery, harsh breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers remain closed on your wrist, as his other hand holds your waist.

And then, he never bites down. No matter how hard he shivers and how much his chest rises and falls with labored breaths, he never falls prey of his yearning. “One night,” he says, but never explains. “One night, I’ll be forever yours.”

On the blue horizon, the light shines distantly. Slowly, the nocturnal creatures crawl back to their holes, hiding in the shadows before the ascent of the sun. When the rays strike your eyes, you close your lids and focus on the fading touch of your lover, on the way the heat returns to your limbs as he dims away.

And then, there’s light. Yet, it offers no relief. You have seen horrors in daylight and experienced beauty in the dark. Sitting up on the bed, you wrap a blanket on your shoulders before exhaling hot air.

“One night,” he said.

One night.

Ps: Happy New Years! Hope you have a nice celebration <3

[anomaly-beans]

The fic rewrite is finally done!

Here we have a major part of Merry’s backstory, influencing many parts of their current character.

For those unaware, Merry is the first character I played in Fallen London, so if you don’t know much of the game you might see a couple of words from it out of context.

Content warnings for: Canon-typical swearing (“canon” because it’s Merry and they swear a lot. The fic is pretty tame though, all things considered), blood, stabbing, manipulation, threatened death, almost death, drugging, someone shot with a pistol

The Color Red

A floral scent hung in the air. Roses and chocolate. Freshly roasted coffee beans and still-warm baked goods. Smells that told of a certain event coming around.

The Feast of the Exceptional Rose.

Honestly, Merry had been confused by the event the first time it rolled around after their arrival in the fallen city. Who was to blame them? Nearly everything in the city had been strange to them at first, coming from a background in a small rural farmland area, growing up amongst a strict Catholic family. Some of the new things excited them though. How freeing the city was to a person from their background. There was so much to do and see. People rarely blinked an eye or made a fuss when they shied away from gendered titles and nervously laughed upon people calling them “sir” or “mister.” While there certainly still were things that were frankly frowned upon and the worry of scandal, it also seemed much more free for them to explore romantically.

Which they surely did.

Their first few months in the city had been taken up by them just trying to get comfortable. Figure some things out that they hadn’t had the luxury to think about on the surface. Sure, they had experimented with different pronouns and clothing when they were a teen, and then up until the death of their brother, but it had felt dangerous when they did this on the surface. Now… they felt free. They explored around, experimented with how they thought of themself, how they wanted to present themself. Eventually settling on wearing more “masculine” clothes as they felt more comfortable in them (plus the added bonus of them being easier to move around in them on more… dangerous and fast-paced occasions) and kept their hair at a manageably longer length than they had as a kid, down to their chin and easy to tie up if they needed it out of their face.

Once they felt more comfortable with themself they began to socialize more. Attending many events and making allies with different factions and groups of society. They found themself favoring the bohemians at first, mostly hanging with the artistic folks and people who would throw parties.

In fact, they had just recently gone to one of said parties. It was actually the reason why they were out at the moment, holding a letter in their hand and wandering the streets of Veilgarden, glancing up at street signs and building numbers to try to place a location written in the letter.

To explain what the letter was, who it was from, and why they were searching for a certain address, first we must go back to what had happened at the party. Or, really, it was more of a masquerade ball.

Merry had been excited by the event, going out and spending as much as they could afford at the moment to get an outfit planned for the event. A custom masquerade mask and a cloak made of fine sheep wool that they had stolen from their home before running away to come to London. The whole outfit was themed around sheep, as their family had owned a herd of sheep that they cared for and Merry had grown quite fond of the animals.

Their main goal upon getting there was to find a person to dance with and, hopefully, get in a relationship with.

They had a bit of experience in dating and courting others. Merry had actually been in quite a few relationships before this event happened. The only problem was that they had, well… all ended up on a sour note or with a simple breakup. Plus a few instances of one night stands. Really the only one they could think of that hadn’t ended up that bad had been their relationship with their now best friend, Norah. She ended the relationship in the gentlest way she could, breaking it to Merry that she didn’t think of them in a romantic way but that she still enjoyed spending time with them and cared about them. The two had settled on being friends.

Most of the beginning of the masquerade, which took place at the beginning of the Feast of the Exceptional Rose, had been spent chatting with others, drinking champagne and wine, and watching the couples dancing together. Merry recognized a few even with the masks on, but found it more fun to watch the strangers. There was something about the mystery of who each person behind their mask was. Why did they choose the mask that they wore? Who could they be?

On their 7th glass they were shocked out of their fascination with the dancers by a sudden polite tap on the shoulder. They couldn’t help but jump and nearly spill the rest of their red wine on the table.

“Oh my. I did not mean to scare you,” a light chuckle came from the one who had startled them, who Merry turned to face, “I was simply getting to know some of the people here and thought it best to greet the people who were not dancing at the moment.”

Merry had to look up to meet the eyes of the tall gentleman speaking to them. His eyes creased into a smile under the similarly grinning face of the wolf mask he wore upon his face. His mask and the rest of the clothes he wore were a deep crimson red with black accents. Very neat and quite expensive looking. The fellow must have been more upper class.

“Ah, well,” Merry started, going a bit red themself under the mask in embarrassment at their startle, “It is quite alright. Not a drop was spilled.” They smiled.

“Good, good. We wouldn’t want to stain this floor red, I’m sure.” The wolf chuckled. He reached out a gloved hand to greet Merry properly,

“The name is Charlie.”

“Merry. Pleasure to meet you, Charlie.” Merry shook his hand, or more like he shook theirs, taking their hand rather firmly and giving them a rough shake.

The man cocked his head, his eyes creasing again with what could be assumed was slight amusement.

“As in Mary had a little lamb?” he chuckled, gesturing to their mask.

Their cheeks went red again at the connection, nearly spluttering as they explained the difference.

“No, no. As in “make merry” or someone who is merry.” They couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Ah! I see. Still, it is an excellent name.”

Merry hummed, taking a sip of their wine.

“So, Merry, I’d love to speak with you. Get to know you? Maybe even, if I’m a lucky guy, ask you if you would like a dance?” They could tell he was grinning even if the mask covered his whole face, grinning itself.

“Maybe. Don’t push your luck just yet,” They chuckled themself, leaning on the table casually to look at him, “but yes, let’s talk.

~~~~~

The night had ended with that dance the charming wolf had asked about. Merry had gone home with their heart fluttering, not even from the amount of drinks they had that night. The man was quite the charmer. Witty, flirtatious, confident. He had taken the lead on their dance together, which Merry had been perfectly fine with as they didn’t have much experience dancing. And, as some tradition at dances during the Feast, the two had removed each other’s masks at midnight, finally getting to see the face of the one that they had danced with.

And now here they were, a couple days later, wandering the Veilgarden streets to find the address that Charlie had sent them. An official date (at least they hoped so). Judging based on the number of the address, it wasn’t in any of the fully residential districts, so it was either a flat or a small business. They were in the right part of Veilgarden at least, judging from how close the building numbers were to the one written in a deep crimson on the sheet of paper they held.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee, baked goods and tea hit their nose as they rounded a corner. There, in front of them, was the address they needed. A small but extravagant cafe with an intricate wrought iron fence forming a small outdoor seating area covered by a wooden roof. The whole outdoor area, from the roof and the fence was covered in tangled vines and draping moss, plus the decorative mushroom bundles and hell roses that decorated the place for the season.

The place looked a bit expensive for their tastes (their current job as a journalist didn’t pay very well), but they had some money saved away for special meetups and such.

There weren’t many there in the courtyard at that moment so it was easy to walk in and look around for the one they were meeting. Plus, yet again the man was wearing a bit of red in the form of a top hat, so Merry’s eyes landed on his table immediately. They grinned and adjusted their tie, hoping they looked decent and wouldn’t stand out too much from the others here, what with their suit being bought second hand. Charlie had his back turned to the entrance so Merry gave him a soft greeting as they got near the table so they wouldn’t startle him.

Their stomach felt full of moths when he gave them a warm smile as they sat down.

“Ah, Merry. It is good to see you. You look quite handsome, if I should say so. It is nice to see you when you aren’t in the costume you had been wearing during the masquerade.”

Luckily the waiter saved them from having to come up with a response while they felt quite flustered from being called handsome. They took a quick glance at the menu, deciding on getting a plate of scones as well as their normal dark cherry coffee they liked to get when it was an option at any cafe. They weren’t going to lie, their sweet tooth could be quite a headache when it came to not spending too much money. Charlie seemed to nod in approval at their decision.

So they assumed the date was going well so far, and that maybe they had some similarities.

~~~~~

It was closer to the end of the month now, the season nearing a close. Overall it had been an exciting season for Merry. The several dates they had gone on with Charlie seemed promising. It filled them with hope that maybe finally they’d have a steady, committed relationship. Not to mention he had sent them many letters since then, and fresh packages of perfect roses.

The hour was late when they were walking again on the Veilgarden streets. This time not on a date, but wanting to head to the Singing Mandrake for a late night drink. The day had gone swimmingly well, having finished several articles they had been writing and with the success of downing a spider colony at the docks. Their body was admittedly a bit tired after that long struggle with the little monsters, so a nice drink sounded like it would do them some good.

They were nearing the place, on an empty portion of the street with no late night walkers or loiterers about, when they noticed a flash of red out of the corner of their eye. Quickly they stopped, preparing for a scrap, not knowing what the color they saw was. They turned just in time to see red coattails flutter past a corner into a dark alleyway on the other side of the street. Coattails that they recognized.

Charlie! They hadn’t seen him or heard from him in a couple of days. Maybe if they hurried they could catch him. They could have a drink at the bar together!

Even with the time they had spent living in London (what was it? 3 years now? Time was hard to keep track of) the streets of the fallen city were hard to navigate. The back alleys, even worse. The layout of the city made no sense, like a twisting labyrinth that made the head spin trying to navigate and make sense of it all. They found themself nearly stumbling many times as they were running in a darker part of the city, not lit up by lamps but only by the faint glow of false stars on the ceiling of the cavernous neath. If the darkness and the labyrinthine layout of the alleys wasn't enough, Merry found that the deeper in they went a sharp almost floral smell began to tingle at their nostrils, getting stronger with each corner they turned.

Their head felt like it was swimming. Was it the twisting maze they found themself running through? Christ, that smell burned their nostrils. Their legs ached from the running and how tired they had already been after the fight with the spider council earlier. Shit… Where had Charlie gone to? How long had they been running?

Merry just had to stop. Their legs were burning and they felt dizzy with how confused their head was with the directions. The smell by that point had started to smell more rotten, but still somehow floral.

Merry leaned against a wall, wheezing for breath and rubbing at their eyes. At this point they were thinking they’d completely lost Charlie. There was no way they’d find him now. Not with all these twists and turns in every direction. Their eyes rolled upwards to stare at the cavern ceiling as they caught their breath. Goddamn! What was that smell?!

It was as they took a deep breath to try to pinpoint the smell that they found themself doubling over in a sneezing and coughing fit. The rotten floral scent burned their nostrils and lungs. At some point they found cold hard stone under their hands as they were now on the ground on their hands and knees, wheezing for breath through the sudden fit that had overtaken them.

It was then that they felt a sudden sharp shove to their back, nearly knocking the breath out of them, and making their weakened knees give out on them and sending them to the ground on their stomach. Even through the coughing and sneezing, their head swimming, their mind went frantic as they realized that they were just hit. Merry tried to turn over to be in a better position to fight and get a look at their attacker, but a sharp heeled boot pressed down at their shoulders keeping them on the ground.

“Ah, Merry. What a pleasure to run into you here-” an all too familiar voice chuckled.

“Ch- Charlie??” Merry managed to wheeze out, trying to turn their head to look up and push off the boot from their shoulder.

The heel ground down into their shoulder blade in response and they let out a hiss in pain.

“What- what the fuck are you doing?!” Merry snapped at him through clenched teeth.

“Oh, Merry… I am simply just doing my job-”

“Let me guess, you’re a fucking killer for hire?”

“Oh heavens no! There won’t be any killing here unless you force my hand,” He chuckled darkly,

“Now let’s stay quiet so the constables won’t catch me, hmm?”

They felt a tug at the collar of their shirt, forcing their head upwards and making the front of their shirt and tie dig into their throat. The sudden constriction startled them to the point that they could barely fight against it. Their back was slammed into a nearby brick wall and the grip on their collar was shifted to hold the front of their shirt to keep their head in place. Now they were face to face with him, pinned against the wall by the taller man. They felt his other hand go to their left hand and tug down their sleeve, exposing the skin of their wrist.

Merry gasped in pain as they felt something sharp, metallic and cold scrape against their hand.

“Mhm, should be sharpened enough,” he lifted the sharp implement in front of Merry’s face. Already the weapon had fresh blood at the tip,

“Now let’s get this over with. It’ll only hurt for a second. The faster I get this done with, the faster you can run away. I’m sure you want to do that, no?”

Merry’s eyes had trouble focusing, their vision swimming. Charlie chuckled at seeing them blink and try to focus their eyes on the weapon.

“Having trouble with your vision there? Feeling a bit weak?”

He pulled something red from his lapel and put it near Merry’s face. Which only served to make their vision blur more and their nose sting from the strong floral scent from earlier.

“Drugged roses. Ingenious idea created by yours truly. I find it helps to keep my clients from fighting back too much.”

Tears stinging at their eyes only served to further blur their vision, but still they blinked them away and forced their eyes to focus on the metal object stained with their blood.

Was that?-

A spirifer’s fork?

The realization dawned on them. What he was here for.

To steal their soul.

Before he could press the twin tines into the flesh of their wrist they lashed out and delivered a knee straight against his ribs. He stumbled back from them, his hand going to grab at where they had kicked, hissing in pain and fury.

“You! You prat! You could have just made this easy! Come here!” he snarled, dashing forward to grab Merry again.

Their mind was running a little slow from the drugged effect of the rose, but they managed to roll away from the part of the wall they had been at, dodging out of the way. They stumbled with the quick movement with their head still spinning though, falling backwards onto their rear. Within just the few seconds after their impact with the ground, Charlie leaped forward and pushed them fully to the ground. His growl was almost animalistic, reminding Merry of the grinning wolf mask he had worn when they first met.

Was it just mere coincidence or some cruel twist of fate that he had been a wolf and they, a sheep that night?

The world span and they had no room to process how it had happened as they now found themself on their stomach on the ground, the spirifer now pinning them down with his full weight and not just a single boot. Their vision flashed as something sharp slashed into their hip through their coat, definitely too sharp to be the spirifer’s fork from earlier. Either a dagger or a knife. They shrieked in pain as it slashed them again. A hand went to cover their mouth but they quickly latched onto it, biting his hand hard. Charlie screamed in pain in turn before stabbing them with the fork in the space where their shoulder and the side of their neck met.

Merry feared for their life and soul at that point, their vision flashing again as they felt blood dripping from multiple wounds and the fork stabbing into their skin.

Things would have been very different for them if, at that moment, a shot hadn’t rang out through the air and they hadn’t felt Charlie fall limp on them right afterwards, blood from a gunshot wound staining their back. Their breaths came out raggy and heavy as they laid there with the weight on their back. Their eyes rolled up lazily to watch as a woman came running up to their side, holding a still-smoking pistol.

“Are you alright, citizen?” She asked frantically, sounding out of breath herself.

Merry grunted in response, laying their head down on the pavement tiredly.

They felt the lady push the collapsed spirifer off their back and then help them to their feet, steadying them on her shoulder.

“Th- thanks-” Merry managed to breathe out.

“No worries. I’ll get you patched up once I get you back to the wagon.”

“Wh- who are you?”

“Name’s Shauna,” she spoke as she helped them steady themself before they walked back to the wagon she had come in, “I’m a shepard.”

“That’s.. That’s the group that takes down spirifers, correct?”

“Mhm. And that one was one of the ones I’ve been trying to track down for months. You should be the last one he ever uses to get souls.”

Merry glanced back over their shoulder at the crumpled body on the ground, now staining the stones red. Their eyes landed on the rose that had been on his lapel, now fallen to the ground and stained with blood the same color as it. They felt sick to their stomach at the thought that he had been sending them roses before this. They turned away as Shauna started to help them walk to the wagon.

“God… I hate roses…”

~~END~~

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (February 3/2021) - The Egg Fights Back

Some interesting new discoveries are made about the Crimson, as Karl time travels once more to an older time.

In the present, Puffy attempts to destroy the Crimson and makes a discovery of her own:

The Crimson can defend itself.

---

- Fundy has figured out how to create life! In the form of little clay figures shaped like people, named after his viewers.

- The mini goblins have their own AI and are going to be able to path-find. If they path-find and combine enough, they’ll be able to fight.

- He can also destroy the ones that misbehave with a special stick.

- In the future, the clay figures will be more advanced. Though chat suggests giving the clay figures the ability to commit arson, Fundy decides that probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

- Tubbo opens his mailbox and reads his letter from Tommy.

- Tubbo’s decided that his goal for today is copious amounts of murder, in which he kills anyone he comes across.

---

It’s time for Tales From the SMP: “The Masquerade!”

A group of rich people come together to party...or so they thought.

---

The cast:

Karl plays Karl (just Karl)

Techno plays Sir Billiam III

Ranboo plays the Butler

Fundy plays Oliver Arachtenstein Cumbucket

Bad plays Lord Sebastian

Sapnap plays James

Niki plays Liaria

Quackity plays Drew P. Weiner

---

- Karl walks up to the mansion and meets a piggy fellow named Sir Billiam III, who is hosting a masquerade ball for rich people 

- Billiam introduces Karl to his overworked butler. 

- Karl falls off the stairway and Billiam explains that this is why they have railings

- Billiam shows Karl around to the various bedrooms. The wither painting is Billiam’s favorite.

- Billiam continues to tour Karl around until they reach the ballroom. Billiam calls for the Butler to fetch some wine.

- Oliver arrives to the party. He is living in London and likes to smoke, and wears a giraffe mask.

- Lord Sebastian is next to arrive.

- Next is James, an old friend of Billiam’s. James is divorced, his family gone. James tosses Karl a bottle of wine.

- Liaria arrives

- Drew P. Weiner, who is naked, arrives. He thought it was a nudist party. Billiam is flustered and wants him gone.

- Billiam had another butler named Hubert, but he ran off and now Billiam can’t find him.

- They go to sit at the bar in the ballroom. Billiam tells the butler to feed Drew poison.

- They then head to the dance floor and hang out.

- Drew is sick and the rest of the guests scatter in fear.

- After failing to poison Drew, they go to play Duck Duck Goose on the carpet.

- The lights go dark and they scatter. When the regroup, Drew’s body is found in a secret room

- Billiam has built a few panic rooms of his own. They split to look for more.

- Suddenly, the lights dim again. 

- When they come back, they find Liaria’s body lying on the wine barrels, and Oliver almost drowns in the aquarium.

- They discuss, drink lots of milk, and find a new secret passageway leading from the barrels to the ballroom.

- Billiam and Karl suspect it might be Sebastian, who was inspecting the wine. They start to confront him, but the lights go out once more. Karl runs with Sebastian.

- Billiam is found outside and must be let back in. 

- Karl shows them where Sebastian died. Karl says it must’ve been Oliver, since he saw Oliver right when the lights turned on.

- Karl has the idea to pair up this night. Karl goes with Billiam as the lights turn off.

- The two of them crawl back up from a secret chamber and find Oliver standing right near James’ body. They question Oliver and the Butler, suspecting them both.

- They give the Butler temporary freedom of speech for thirty minutes.

- At the end of discussion, they still suspect Oliver, and assign him the Butler as a buddy. The lights go dark as Karl stays with Billiam again.

- Billiam shows Karl a panic room armed with defensive fireworks for extreme situations.

- The Butler tells them that Oliver had a heart attack. Karl and Billiam start running from him.

- Billiam leads Karl to a new hiding spot. A secret room behind a painting. It’s his favorite panic room...because it has the Egg.

- Billiam tells Karl that in his travels, he found this mansion. A breeding ground for this mysterious Egg. And in his spare time, Billiam feeds poor people to the Egg as nourishment.

The Egg did the killings.

It can persuade people to do what it wants.

- The Butler begins to glow, and chases Karl down. The noises of stabbing can be heard as the screen goes dark.

- Karl wakes up in a white castle. There’s a wither rose and a book, and his clothes are all white.

The book calls it the inbetween. A dimension connected to Karl’s powers, a home away from home.

He doesn’t get to choose when he time travels, or when he returns, but his body doesn’t have to deteriorate.

If he explores the castle of the inbetween, then perhaps he can find the key to not lose himself.

He has to maintain the library, move it to a new land, and get people to join him. But he can’t let anybody else know what the inbetween is.

Until next time.

- Karl wakes up in his library and begins to write. One of the books is missing.

---

- Puffy has heard rumors that Tommy broke a piece of the Egg and nothing bad happened. Can she do the same?

- She breaks off a piece and it damages her, taking away around three hearts of health. She’s shocked and immediately stops trying to destroy it.

- Ranboo logs on and is confused by where he is. The maps are gone.

- Puffy gets a Prime Suit and goes back.

- Puffy tries breaking a different piece and it almost kills her, doing six hearts of damage. Why did this not happen to Tommy? She doesn’t think she can damage the Egg at all, even with TNT. Every time she goes to break it, it hurts more. A third time and she might not survive...

- Ranboo heads off in a direction.

- Puffy wonders if the Egg chose to let Tommy have a piece of the Egg, if the Egg doesn’t want to hurt Tommy. Maybe it wants Tommy to have part of it.

- Puffy needs to get Techno to help before the Eggpire gets Techno on their side. She needs to do something about this immediately.

- Ranboo makes it home and decides to check on the Egg.

- Puffy writes in the Captain’s Log. She shouldn’t have attempted to break the Egg. There’s some sort of difference between her and Tommy.

She and Tommy both have lost friends and made sacrifices. She thought she could fix this all on her own, but she couldn’t. She doesn’t have another attempt. Each try hurts more and more. But why did the Egg choose to spare Tommy?

It’s time for blood for the Blood God. It’s time for Technoblade.

Next stream, Puffy will visit Technoblade.

- Ranboo explores the SMP and is pleased by the grass blocks in L’Targay.

- As Puffy finishes writing, Ranboo hops down into the spider spawner. He makes his way to the secret room.

- Puffy goes to see Foolish’s builds and then goes to get quartz.

- Ranboo sees the Egg, waiting for it to say something. It doesn’t, so he graffitis it instead.

- Ranboo heads back home.

- He thinks people are probably going to create countries again. It’s already happened with Snowchester. So Ranboo doesn’t want to be involved.

- Puffy works on building projects and Ranboo continues to get rich.

---

Upcoming Events:

- Tommy’s next visit with Dream

- Bad wants to visit Dream again in the future

- Tubbo’s possible visit with Dream

- Quackity’s possible visit with Dream

- Sapnap’s visit with Dream

- Puffy’s visit with Dream

- Ponk’s visit with Dream

- Punz’s visit with Dream

- Jack Manifold’s visit with Dream

- The Eggpire possibly speaking with Technoblade

- Puffy meeting with Technoblade

[gyucore]

long live the king

pairing: mage!hueningkai x noble!reader

tags: fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, hueningkai can do magic

word count: 3.3k

prompts:

011: "May I have this dance?"

019: "I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

020: "You look incredible in that."

Tonight had been advertised as the night to end all nights— a masquerade ball held by the king at the palace, and a brightly lit ballroom decorated with gold and the continent's finest silk, adorning the kingdom's rose insignia. Entertainers and musicians positioned around the vicinity to perform their best acts and tunes, and the gates were left wide open to welcome everyone who wanted to join in, given that they tried their best to dress for the occasion.

Today was an event open to all the kingdom's citizens, from high seated nobles to common men by the streets, everyone was welcome to participate in the king's annual ball. However, that fact didn't matter for a family such as yours. Your father was the Marquess, which meant that you were invited to every single ball or gathering held by the nobility for the nobility. At least, that was how it had been until the incident.

The peering eyes of both the nobles and commoners alike have left you frozen on your spot by the pillar. Your bright red ball gown, although beautiful, was not helping you hide away from the eyes of the crowd. It was evident they were all thinking the same thing.

The unfortunate daughter of a fallen marquess.

News had gotten out about your family's crisis and had spread to the public like a disease. The Grand Marquess losing money, property, and power: The fall of a great noble. The story made headlines for weeks on end— rumors mixing in with the truth, and eventually, everyone had drawn the same conclusion. Pitiful.

You worry about your parents at the other end of the room, doing their best to mingle with the other nobles. The heavy atmosphere was weighing down on your chest.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try to think of the things that calmed you down: the rustic smell of old books at the public library, the warm feeling you'd get when the rays of sunlight touch your skin as you sit by the window with your face buried deep into your favorite classic, the bright smile the common mage boy would give you everytime you crossed paths—

"Wow."

A familiar voice brings you back from your thoughts.

"You look incredible in that." The same bright smile you'd envisioned earlier now stood in front of you.

You gaze in awe at the man before you, dressed in what you could only describe as the most beautiful and elegant ensemble you'd seen tonight. The way the white suit hugged his waist left little room for the imagination. You doubt even the king himself could top this off.

"Lady Y/N. I believe fate must have brought us together in this fine evening." The man gently bends down, taking your hand and planting a kiss so fleeting that you barely felt it. Even with the golden mask on, you could easily tell who it was.

"Kai.."

"Ah, and here I was hoping I'd be a little more mysterious tonight." Kai holds back his laughter as he gazed upon you once more. You can't help but do the same.

Tonight, he looked nothing of a common mage but that of a king himself. If you hadn't known him beforehand, you would've mistaken him as so, especially with tonight's main event— the reveal of the king's successor. But alas, what the mage boy had going on for him was merely for appearances. A commoner like him could never be king in a world where even dreaming of becoming one was considered to be of highest absurdity.

"I thought you said you weren't attending?"

Kai shrugs, folding his hands behind his back. "And refuse my lady when you so graciously asked me out?"

His response catches you off guard. "I don't recall ever asking you anything of that sort."

"You asked if I'd attend."

"And that counts as asking you out?"

Kai chuckles. "When you asked me with such a cute look on your face, it was difficult to think you weren't looking forward to me being here."

And he was right. Given your circumstances, Kai being here with you was like a breath of fresh air. You'd been praying all night that he'd magically arrive to help you take your mind off of things, and you felt like crying out in joy when he actually did.

Kai looks around, seemingly getting a sense of the pressure you were in. "Shall we take a stroll around the garden, my lady?"

You follow his line of sight and spot the royal garden just outside the window. "I'll let you accompany me if you drop the whole my lady business."

Kai purses his lips as he takes your hand in his. "Can't you let me be fancy for one night?"

Every moment you'd spent with Kai up until this point had been the highlight of your days. As the daughter of the Marquess, you'd spent most of your time holed up inside your manor. Women barely got any education aside from the usual classes on manners and societal etiquette, and that included nobles as well. But that never stopped you. Once a week, when the guards changed shifts by the gate, and the maids and butlers were all busy with the weekly general cleaning, you'd take the opportunity to slip out in disguise, undetected by anyone. The main goal was to get to the public library and obtain access to educational material— ones that didn't involve any prim and proper rubbish that you've read over a thousand times.

The first time outside was rather difficult. You barely managed to get inside the library's more educational section while passing as a man. However, every succeeding attempt became easier and easier until coming out in secret and gaining access didn't seem like that much of a hassle anymore.

At the library, you were free to read any book you want, and used this opportunity to brush up on some business and economics as well as some of the basic sciences. You spent the first few months stocking up on knowledge until you felt it fine to relax a little and start reading novels to pass the time without the help of a disguise.

There was a section in the library that you hadn't checked; one that you'd deemed unnecessary as it only contained children's literature. It wasn't until you'd heard the sound of a man's voice followed by children's laughter that you felt compelled enough to take a peek.

"And then, the dragon swooped down onto the village and attacked the innocent villagers! ROARRR. Breathing fire as hot as, well, uh— FIRE!"

You slipped up and giggled at the young man's amusing narration, piping down a bit after realizing that he had noticed you from behind the shelves, throwing a knowing smirk your way.

It was then that he pulled down his cloak. Wavy brown locks gracefully reaching the back of his neck, bright eyes that could make any person let their guard down— he looked around your age which made you feel more at ease.

The young man steps back, dramatically breathing fire out of his mouth as the children cheered. Some were yelling at him to continue until only smoke came out, and you swore you heard one of them ask if he could make the fire turn green. Ridiculous, you think. But you were no different from these children, only being able to stand there in awe at the young man's trick. Perhaps turning the fire green wasn't such a terrible idea.

You've heard of mages among the commoners before, and had met a few that visited your manor but this was the first time you'd seen one in action. The flames that came out of his mouth looked awfully hot but the young man didn't even blink or showed any signs of pain.

He stops the fire and clears his throat, now kneeling down to face the children. "The villagers were worried sick! What would happen to their crops, their produce, their livelihood? If only a hero would come along and save them!" He makes an overly exaggerated wail before gasping.

"Well, who do we have here? A warrior has come to save the villagers!" The young man points at your direction and you feel your blood run cold as all the children in the room had turned their attention towards you, hopeful.

"A young maiden has arrived to slay the evil dragon!"

You quickly shake your head at his statement, holding your arms out in a cross. "No, kids. Don't believe what this man says. I am not a warrior, and I'm certainly not here to slay any dragons"

The young man raises a brow, getting up from his spot. "Then why do you have the magical sword that was forged to slay the mighty dragon?"

"What sword?"

The young man snaps his fingers. "That sword."

The weight on your hips dip on one side and you couldn't believe your eyes as a sheathed sword had magically manifested beside your waist out of thin air. "How did you— wait, is this a real sword?! You can't play around with real swords in front of children!"

The children turn towards the young man in confusion.

"Well, kids. Do you want the kind lady to slay the dragon with a real sword?"

"YES!" The children cheered.

The young man turns to you with a smile. "You gotta give the kids what they want, Miss."

An exasperated expression makes its way to your face. "I am not slaying any made up dragons!"

"Now, what's all this talk about slaying dragons?"

Taehyun, one of the stricter librarians, had come out of nowhere, surprising everyone. His eyes scan the room and quickly notices three things: (1) the dangerous sword hanging on your waist, (2) the excessive amount of children in the room when the sign on the way in definitely mentioned a capacity of only five, and (3) someone let the mage boy inside the library again. The culprit was evident.

"Jung Kai, I swear to the heavens I will—"

"Alright kids, time to go! We'll end the story next time!" The young man, Kai, rushes the disappointed children out of the section before they heard something they shouldn't.

You were about to walk away yourself but was quickly stopped by Taehyun's hand blocking your path. "Kai, didn't I tell you that you're not allowed to perform magic inside the library? And seriously," He confiscates the sword on your waist, holding it up in the air. "Violence?"

Kai looks at you and grins. "I suppose we could've gone with a more romantic ending. Something like the warrior's kiss saving the dragon from his curse, and he turns back into this super handsome, super cute, and super macho mage."

The way he shamelessly described himself left you speechless, and you steal a glance at the librarian who looked as equally disgusted as you are.

"Just clean up the mess before you leave. And that means you too, Miss Dragon Slayer."

"But I didn't even—" You cut yourself off after Taehyun dismisses himself from the room.

The section falls silent and Kai walks up to you, a smile ever present in his face. "I'm guessing this is the start of our new friendship?"

And that was what started it all. Everytime you'd visit the library after that, you seemed to bump into Kai more often than you liked. He saw through the disguise the first time he saw you wearing it and had promised to not utter a single word to anyone. The mage boy was much more reliable than he seemed to be, often helping you in your studies and teaching you more than the books ever could. Sometimes, he'd convince you to take a stroll around town and had shown you sights and wonders you wouldn't have expected to see inside the kingdom.

Before you knew it, Kai had become someone you'd cherished, and someone whose company you genuinely appreciated. He was patient and understanding as your makeshift mentor, and was this fun and outgoing guy whenever you two were out together. Kai became the first friend you'd made on your own regardless of status and the only friend you wished to keep by your side.

"I take it that the people in the ballroom were too much?" Kai speaks the moment arrived at the garden.

"Please. I couldn't even breathe in there." You play it off with a chuckle but thoughts of worry still plague your mind. "I'm guessing you probably know by now."

"About what? The fact that you're the daughter of the Marquess or that the Marquess has been in a crisis for a while?"

"Both."

Kai reaches for your hand, holding it reassuringly. "I've known for a while but that doesn't change anything now, does it? We became friends without the burden of our status, and we'll stay as friends regardless."

You hated this, hated how he always knew exactly what to say. The heat rushes up to your face and you squeeze his hand tighter, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you."

But truthfully, there was a little voice in Kai's head that wished you could be something more. Not after you'd shared those intimate moments alone at the library at dusk, not after he rushed in to catch you in his arms when you fell while shelving a book on the top shelves, and especially not after you almost shared a kiss after saying goodbye that night he'd helped you sneak back in.

Even now, as he lovingly gazed at your silhouette beneath the moonlight, he'd hoped that he'd have the chance to tell you how he felt. But then again, the chance could be right now at this very moment. The two of you were, afterall, at the king's ball.

"So, how were the gentlemen earlier?"

"What?" You raise your head to face Kai.

"I've no doubt that hundreds of people had been lining up to dance with you all evening." Kai grins as he gently lets go of your hand.

"Please, I haven't danced at all tonight."

"I find that quite hard to believe."

You sigh, recalling the events from earlier. "No one would want to be seen dancing with a fallen Marquess' daughter now would they?"

"Not when you look this beautiful?" Kai jokingly walks around you and you shy away from his gaze.

"You know I never say things I don't mean, Y/N." Kai bends down and holds your hands in his. "And believe me, I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

"Is flattery your main personality trait now?" You say as an attempt to not let his compliment affect you any further than it should but fail miserably so.

Kai stands before you with an unreadable expression. You'd argue this was the most serious look he's ever had since you'd met him.

"Care to dance?" Kai asks, leaning in closer, your faces merely inches apart. You feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, and you're almost afraid he might hear.

The moonlight casts a shadow on Kai's face, and despite the darkness, his eyes glistened, reflecting your own as you stared into his. You've never seen anyone look so beautiful. And here he was, telling you that you're the loveliest person he's ever known.

"Right now?"

Kai nods, taking off his mask and tossing it over to the side. "And I'd like it if we could dance without our masks too. I've been wanting to get a good look at your face all night."

You chuckle, removing your mask and tossing it to to the ground next to his. "And how do you suppose we dance without music? My reputation's already dirt at this point and I do not want to be branded as the crazy noble dancing at the royal garden in complete silence."

Kai fails to suppress his laughter, holding on to your shoulder to maintain himself upright. "Well, I wouldn't want to let my dear lady look crazy now would I?"

"And what are you planning to do?"

"Well, I am a mage." Kai smirks as he manifests a scepter out of thin air, leaving a trail of golden dust flurrying down.

This was the first time you've ever seen it in person. Kai had mentioned how he needed the aid of his scepter to perform high level magic, but he'd never taken it out in front of you until now. One look at the scepter and anyone could tell not just any old mage owned the darn thing. It looked majestic by all means, intricately decorated with gold and topped off with a brightly colored red gemstone you couldn't seem to identify. You'd heard that mages often created their own unique gemstones as a manifestation of their mana but for Kai's to be red, which had been said to be a quite powerful variant, made you wonder just how powerful your friend had been.

"And here we go." Kai takes the scepter in his hand and drives it into the ground. The impact causes a wave of light to burst from the scepter and spread throughout the reaches of garden. In a split-second, the wave of light rushes back into its source, compressing into a huge orb of light lifting up into the sky, rivaling the moon with its glow. The orb splits into smaller pieces and starts to dance around the garden, leaving you in awe at the spectacle.

Kai finds himself grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. He'd studied magic as an expression of rebellion against his father but now, he'd found another purpose to perform these little tricks of his. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer. "Wait for it."

The orbs of light find their places around you, slowly taking the shape of various instruments you've seen inside the ballroom, from strings to percussions, and even wind instruments. Smaller pieces of light continued to hover the surroundings, resembling glowing fireflies in the dark.

"Kai, this is beautiful." You look up at the young man, and he steps away, bowing his head as he plants yet another kiss on the back of your hand.

"May I have this dance?"

His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart skip a beat. It was rather difficult to explain. The Kai in front of you right now had been the same Kai you've always known, but somehow.. different.

You raise your hand for him to take, guiding your other hand to find perch on his shoulder, and his finding its place on your waist. With the first step, the instruments started playing. It's a piece you've heard before, one that Kai had fondly hummed nearly everytime you were together at the library.

It was as if the world had faded into the distance, and at this moment, there was only you and him, dancing alone in the garden. He pulls you close, his hold gentle and warm. Kai spins you around. The heel of your shoe collides with a rock, and you nearly stumble back until Kai manages to grab you by the waist on time, pulling you back into his arms.

You spot the smirk on his face under the moonlight, and you press a finger against his lips. "Not one word."

"I wasn't going to say anything." Kai lets you go, and you quickly grab a hold of his arms to find balance.

"Of course you weren't."

"Well, I do have something I have to tell you. A few things, actually."

You cock a brow at him, and he steps forward. "I'll tell you the most important part first."

"And that is?"

Kai reaches out to cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes as if asking permission. You didn't need to say anything for him to understand, and he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours. The feeling was foreign but certainly welcome, and you soon close your eyes and reciprocate, wanting to feel more of his soft lips, and wanting to hold him closer and closer.

For long had you held out on this, on actually acknowledging your growing feelings for the lad in fear of having to live with the thought of him not feeling the same. But in this moment, you felt a heavy burden being lifted from your shoulders.

"Kai, I.."

The light from the orbs dim down and soon dissipates. Kai pulls away, gazing upon your flushed face. "You mean the world to me, Y/N. I don't think my life would ever be the same without you."

The trumpets blare in the ballroom, a signal that the new king was to make an appearance soon. You feel Kai's hand around yours. "As for my other confession, I think it's best we head back first."

He leads you back into the ballroom, and disappears the moment you find your parents in the crowd. You join them in the center as everyone gathers to get a glimpse at the new king.

The herald makes his way beside the grand staircase, straightening himself up to make the announcement that every citizen had been waiting to hear all evening.

"Presenting the next in line to the throne, to rule the vast lands of our esteemed nation, and lead us into a continuing era of prosperity! Our future King, His Royal Highness, Kai Kamal Huening!"

The doors open, revealing Kai, your Kai, adorned in the royal family's crest, robes, and jewelries as he made himself known to his loyal subjects.

Behind him was public librarian, Kang Taehyun, who had been revealed to be serving as one oc the King's advisors, and now, for the new monarch.

"Long live the King!"

Kai could pick out your from the crowd in a heartbeat, hos gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his signature smile. You couldn't believe what was happening— Kai, your best friend in the whole world, had just confessed his love to you. And now, that same Kai had revealed to you and to the public that he had been the future ruler of the country all along. The crowds cheered.

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King." You whisper to yourself, wondering what the future has in store for you.

[the-ce-horniest-book-club]

Last Chance Prompt Fest

Today is the day that our Last Chance Prompt Fest starts.

To take part, you don’t need to claim a prompt through us at all, you just find a prompt you like, create what you want to create and then tag us @the-ce-horniest-book-club​ and use the hashtag “CE HBC Last Chance Prompt Fest”. You can also DM your link to us to ensure we see it.

The event starts today, Friday, August 27th and ends next Friday, September 3, 2021.

Once the event has ended, we will answer the ask for the prompts that received creations. We will also have a masterlist for everything created as well.

Who can we create for?

You can create stuff for Steve Rogers, Chris Evans or any of Chris’s 18+ characters.

What can we create?

While the CE HBC is primarily a writing community, these events are to encourage creators of all types. So for this event, you can write, make moodboards, create a playlist, make a video or whatever you are inspired to create based on the prompts under the keep reading.

All of the prompts are listed below the cut and it does not matter how many things are created for each prompt.

Chris Evans Prompts

Could you do one with chris where the reader is eating something delicious and Chris hears them and tries to distract them with smutty things but the reader picks the treat over Chris. (Just had yams that tasted like my grandma used to make years ago, and I’ll pick that over Chris right now lol)

It’s hot AF where I live and we all know Chris doesn’t like the hot temps… so maybe something about trying to beat the heat

How many rounds was that? Four? God, we’re about to break our own record. With Chris? 😍

That’s a lot of sass for someone who ruined my sheets and still hasn’t apologized. With Chris?

Prompt: being friends with Chris and helping and supporting him with ASP too. When the news hit that Biden won your together and after squealing, he just grabs and kisses you.

Chris Evans brushing his heavily pregnant wife’s hair

Chris introducing you to his family for the first time

Readers reaction when Chris has to shave off his beard for a role and doesn’t tell her?

Hey i had an idea. she faked her orgasm because she has trouble cum.  Chris finds out and is angry because she hasn’t said anything and doubts his abilities?  then he brings her to orgasm

Chris playing Christmas songs on the piano while you wrap presents or something where he keeps you company while you’re doing something else

Ari Levinson Prompts

Cowboy Ari Levinson helping you out after he finds you on his ranch

Curtis Everett Prompts

Trying to have quiet sex with Curtis behind a curtain.

Frank Adler Prompts

Frank Adler gets a new neighbor - reader who is just as intelligent as his family and they like each other right away.

Nick Vaughn Prompts

Nick Vaughan keeping you company on the streets of New York

Steve Rogers Prompts

“I’m your Captain and you follow my orders!” “Aye, aye Cap’n!” “I said Captain, not pirate.”

“Hey Steve, what does a deaf gynecologist do?” “I don’t know.” “He reads lips.”

How about a drunk drabble based off of Right Girl Wrong Time by Jon Langston with Steve and Peggy

someone should write a steve and bucky threesome with a reader

“Yeah sex is great but have you just ever wanted to rub yourself over that fucking beard of Steve’s?”

I have a prompt for you. Steve has fallen in love with the Motown sound since Sam has played most of the genre for him. He has gone shopping, or gone for coffee and he hears you sing a song from the Supremes and is instantly intrigued. Have fun seducing him with music. https://youtu.be/HXGz8i0I2L0

It’s the first Christmas Steve has spent with y/n

Reader making Steve a heart cake for Valentine’s Day ❤️

Multiple Options Prompts

Can I get the following prompt with Steve, Colin, or Jensen? “In ancient Greece, throwing an apple was done to declare one’s love.” “How do I love thee, let me count the ways? Thump, thump, thump.” “So the mild concussion means you love me?”

Could I get “I see that you have your legal name listed as Y/n’s Daddy. That’s incorrect. You’re legal name is what’s on your Drivers Licence.” With any of Chris’ characters please?

SFW Prompts

For Chris or one of his characters, there is only one bed and they got to sleep far apart but wake up cuddling. Bonus points if they don’t hate it.

“Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay?!”

How about they’re roommates and “just friends” who develop feelings for each other

“You always say that, but I’d only see you for a day or two until you have to fly out again.”

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want. I just thought you should know.”

i have been in love with you, dumbass

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

I have these… powers raging around inside me, and I have no clue how to control them.

“Hey, it’s cold. Light a fire or something. I swear, you’re a cold blooded reptile.”

that guy in the gorilla costume has been following us for the past ten blocks.

going to a masquerade ball

“So, you’re the unfortunate soul stuck with me.”

“I look at you and I think, ‘sunshine. Literal sunshine.’ It’s annoying.”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“What’s with the box?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“It’s not like I love you or anything.”

Merlin quote prompt: Nobility is defined by what you do, not by who you are

“Why do you keep pushing me away? I know you love me.”

“I want to go home.” “And I want to go to the moon. It ain’t happening sweetheart. Time to accept that.”

“I just want you to know I love you and I hope these roses prove that to you.”

Prompt: “if you steal all the blankets I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“What have we here? Bed: unslept in. Hair in… missionary disarray. And yesterday’s dress with today’s shame all over it.” Gossip Girl

Every time I’m in the same room with her, I can’t decide if I want to pick a fight with her or push her up against a wall and kiss the fuck out of her. - Falling for My Enemy by Claire Kingsley

“The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.”

NSFW Prompts

“Wet pussy is the best. I can’t get enough of the juices dripping from my mouth.”

“She beauty, she grace, I want her pussy on my face.”

“Sheathing my cock inside you feels like a jam donut being torn in half. Delicious and mind blowing.”

Twist on quarantine haircuts: couple helping each other with pubic hair maintenance

“I don’t know if you’re looking for Aztek gold down there, but if you don’t hurry up and fuck my brains out I’ll do it my damn self!”

“Have you ever noticed how eating a hot dog is similar to giving deepthroat?” “No but thanks, I don’t want to eat this now.”

Babe I can’t sleep. I know you just woke me up. Wanna fuck? I’m awake!!!

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but I’m about to punish that sassy mouth!”

“I love your longish hair baby. Finally got something to pull while you’re between my legs devouring me.”

Holiday Prompts

“Great, now I have to re-hide your Christmas gifts.”

“I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe.”

“The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”

“What are you doing?” “Hiding from carolers.”

“Santa’s handwriting looks suspiciously like yours.”

“Why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?”

“Are you Santa? Because I’d sit on your lap.”

“YES I BOOBY TRAPPED THE PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR”

“What the hell kind of Charlie Brown Christmas tree did you buy?”

“It looks like the North Pole threw up.”

i may or may not have gotten tangled up in the tinsel.

“If we don’t have this damn tree up before the end of the night, I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m going to tell Santa to give you coal.”

“It’s an advent calendar. You’re supposed to open one square a day, not eat half the chocolate in a sitting.”

“Why is there mistletoe in every room of the apartment?”

I got a little too drunk off of egg nog and vodka and you look so pretty in this light, and I most definitely want to kiss you right now, best friends or not.

we were going to a Christmas party but fuck if you don’t just look sinful in red, and you know what? Fuck that Christmas party.

Dad!chris (or one of his characters) and his kids at Christmas

“You’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?”

Spending your first Valentine’s Day together with any character

[sanktere]

Olympian Aesthetic Headcanons

Bold where applicable, italicize where situationally relevant

APHRODITE. (2.5) laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, turned on by danger.

APOLLO. (4) glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeping naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes.

ARES. (4.5) armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell will make you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath.

ARTEMIS. (2.5) keen sense of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting a target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling.

ATHENA. (3) discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a lifelong teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes.

DEMETER. (4.5) soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom-friend, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants (elementals), leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

DIONYSUS. (0) drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause.

HEPHAESTUS. (0.5) the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted in blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry.

HERA. (1) resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold.

HERMES. (0) devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes redbull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers.

POSEIDON. (5.5) storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns for more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow.

ZEUS. (2) thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, pretends they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch.

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

[fun-with-colors]

Persona 5 Royal and “Poe’s Masquerade”

I recently (read: a few minutes ago) saw a post about how Beneath the Mask is a brilliant and tragic character study of Joker, and I felt compelled to talk about some of the awesome references in Persona 5 Royal (not sure if they’re all in the vanilla game, never played it.)

So, in Beneath the Mask, there’s the line “I’m a shapeshifter, at Poe’s Masquerade,” right? Which is a reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. Seems like a pretty cut-and-dry thing, it ties into the theme of there not being anything beneath the mask, as was the case in Poe’s Masque. Well, I am here to tell you that that particular reference is anything but simple. It’s brilliant. 

Fair warning: this is gonna be a long post.

First off, some context on The Masque of the Red Death. It’s a short story where, basically, there’s this plague going on. It’s called the Red Death, it makes you sweat blood and die in less than an hour. Terribly contagious, the Red Death. So this rich guy gathers up all of his friends and allies to hole up in his abbey, and locks the gates behind them. A few months in, they decide to throw a rocking masquerade party. 

The party is structured as such: 

There are 7 rooms in order, each color-coded. Blue, then purple, then green, then orange, and then violet. The last room is black, and lit up by red lights. There’s a big imposing clock in the last room, and whenever it chimes the hour everyone stops partying until the clock is done, and then resumes. 

Everything’s going great while people are dying outside until midnight, when this new guy shows up in a gaudy red costume that looks like a corpse killed by the red death. The host chases this guy down with a dagger. They go through all the rooms, and once they reach the last room the host finally looks the mysterious stranger in the face, and instantly dies. The guests panic and remove the mask to see who it was, only to find that there was nothing there. The guests then all also die to the Red Death. 

Grim, right? Well, it also has a lot of striking similarities to Shido’s palace.

The basic premise of some rich asshole trying to save only his friends from the plague on the land, only this time the plague is one that he himself has orchestrated: the mental shutdowns. Those on his ship are safe from being permanently cancelled, while those who aren’t (like the Shujin principal) are not. 

The letters of introduction parallel the 7 rooms, since all of that preparation is in the eventual goal of unlocking the final room.

The guests on the ship are all wearing masks that look a heck of a lot like masquerade masks. 

The intruder, ie: the thieves. 

 as a last-ditch effort to kill the thieves, Shido takes a pill that will temporarily kill him, mirroring the moment when the host dies in The Masque of the Red Death. 

But wait! We’re not done!

That is just the first layer of references

This is why I said that it was gonna get super long. Strap in folks, because those references aren’t even an original choice that the game made. They’re INHERITED references. Also I have a lot to say, and am bad at being succinct. Well, they say that if you can’t be concise, you can at least be interesting, and I hope that I’ve managed that. 

Some more context:

Akechi is based off of the famous Japanese detective Akechi Kogoro. The author of the Akechi Kogoro stories is a man by the pen name of Edogawa Ranpo. If that name sounds familiar, it should. It is, as wikipedia puts it, “A rendering of [Edgar Allan] Poe’s name.” 

There is one Akechi Kogoro story, called Gold Mask (Or The Gold Mask, or The Golden Mask), that is especially relevant here. In it, Akechi goes up against the mysterious Gold Mask, who turns out to be none other than Arsene Lupin. 

It should not be surprising how many similarities there are, but I am somehow surprised nonetheless. 

These are some insane connections, y’all. I’m basically just gonna retell the events of the story because it’s mostly relevant anyways. It’s not even all about the red death thing. Also I just really like this section of the story. This is gonna get rambly, but bear with me here. 

Ok so first plot twist: this book also references The Masque of the Red Death. Big time. Like, there is a chapter titled “The Masque of the Red Death.”

The setting: a masquerade ball put on by the French Ambassador (The Count de Rouzieres). The ball takes place in seven chambers, in the same color order as in the original story. This time, however, they are set up so that one can only see one room at a time. Do note that the final room is described as making things look as though they are “somehow not of this world.”

The inevitable twist

Guess who shows up unannounced at the moment the clock strikes midnight? Ding ding ding! That’s right, it’s the Gold Mask. 

(The next chapter is called “The Gold Death”)

The investigator who had been Akechi’s sidekick (more on that later) chases after the Gold Mask, along with the Count and one other dude. 

I’m just gonna quote the book’s description of the third man. 

“It was impossible to identify the man on account of his eccentric costume. [...] He wore a form-fitting black shirt and trousers, black shoes, black socks, a black cloth on his head, the ends of which rose sharply into two long horns, and, of course a face mask.”

...Yeah. I was way more surprised to find out that that design is straight out of the source material than to find out who that mysterious third man was. (more on why akechi was disguised in a bit)

The Count is the first into the final room with the Gold Mask. No sooner does he enter than the other two men hear a gunshot. They run in, fearing the worst. 

Turns out it’s the Gold Mask who’s been shot by the Count. They pull off the mask and discover... the Count’s interpreter. One of the investigators declares that the interpreter must be the gold mask, and this all can be called off. The guy’s dying, everything’s fine. 

Suddenly, the man with the black mask starts laughing. They demand he removes his mask, he does so and reveals himself as Akechi Kogoro. Akechi insists that this man cannot be the Gold Mask, because Arsene Lupin is the gold mask.

Everyone else thinks he’s ridiculous, until he gets the dying interpreter to confess that yes, he was working for Arsene Lupin.

Now. The part that makes this all really funny is that as the interpreter is dying, he points out to Akechi who Arsene Lupin is (since Lupin has so many disguises as to not fundamentally have a true identity). The interpreter points to (dun dun duhDUH) The Count of Rouzieres, the French Ambassador to Japan. 

Obviously the police commissioner is finding that hard to believe, but when Akechi produces an envelope that he claims is evidence, he orders that the rest of the investigators and guests leave the room, so that it’s only him, the POV character, Akechi, and the Count. 

The letter is apparently from another well-known detective familiar with Arsene Lupin, full of evidence that proves that the Count of Rouzieres is actually Arsene Lupin. Incriminating stuff, blah blah blah. 

Arsene admits to being, well, arsene, and then proceeds to have a superficially amicable conversation with Akechi. He then pulls his gun out of nowhere and threatens to shoot akechi. Suddenly, the detective who supplied Akechi with the note (his name is Weber) jumps out of the clock mechanism behind Arsene and confiscates his gun. Arsene Lupin is about to be arrested, with no way out. One of the investigators pulls out his own gun on Arsene, and both Akechi and the police commissioner are very experienced in making arrests. Even beyond that, there’s an entire crowd of investigators waiting outside the only door. 

We cut to the aforementioned crowd of investigators, who have just noticed that the voices from inside the room have gotten very quiet. After knocking and hearing only silence, they decide to open the door.

The room is empty. 

We cut back to Arsene, who is acting very confident despite his precarious circumstances. He says that he has the power to create such a catastrophe as to make it impossible for them to arrest him, before calmly walking out of the only door in the room. 

The detectives call for the police officers outside to arrest Arsene, but... there doesn’t seem to be anyone there to do it. He locks the door to the room from the outside, and flees out of an open glass window and down a fire escape to his waiting allies. (very similar to the way Joker attempts to escape from the Casino, and VERY similar to how he ultimately escapes from the interrogation room.)

It turns out that the “black-velvet room” was actually a cleverly disguised elevator, with the mechanism in the clock. Arsene used the elevator to separate the detectives from the rest of the investigators, and to make his escape for real. It is SHOCKING to me that of all the things in persona 5, the interrogation room escape is ENTIRELY true to the source material. It’s wild. 

Anyways, I’ll stop there. I’ll probably make another post with all of the miscellaneous connections between the Gold Mask and Persona 5, since there are a lot. I’ve had this topic sitting in my brain for a while. 

Edit: I forgot to get to why Akechi was disguised. Well, it turns out that’s another connection: Akechi had been presumed dead. Everybody thought he had been shot. Turns out it was just a fake version of himself, a trick taken from Sherlock Holmes. (and one that shows up in Persona 5 Royal). He was taking advantage of the fact that everyone thought he was dead to get more info without being suspected. 

[malpractiice]

OLYMPIAN AESTHETICS.

APHRODITE          laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger

APOLLO         glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled wrath, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a Tinder account

ARES         armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fists raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell will make you think, exhausted, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath

ARTEMIS          keen sense of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting a target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling

ATHENA      discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a lifelong teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, stoic statues, pottery classes  

DEMETER          soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom-friend, can lift you and your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants, leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air

DIONYSUS         drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause

HEPHAESTUS        sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted in blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles

HERA          resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, files that under fuck it, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold

HERMES          devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes redbull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers

POSEIDON       storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns for more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow

ZEUS        thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, pretends they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy calendar with ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch

[illusionage]

OLYMPIAN AESTHETICS.

APHRODITE.   laughter loving.   sweet smiles.   dressed in silk and satin. flower in their hair.   sees the world as a runway.   unapologetically sexual.   the sea washing their ankles.  in love with love.   stirrer of passion.  cunning concealed by painted lips.  secret daggers.   doves.   revolution in their kiss.   delighting in the waves.   flirtatious winks.   strolling along the beach.   staring wistfully from a balcony.  this is how to be a heartbreaker.   wants to be adored.   gets turned on by danger.

APOLLO.     glitz and glamour.   art galleries.   turning the volume up.   being made of gold.  neatly organized music sheets.   notebooks filled with poetry.   bathing in the sunlight. the powerful urge to create.  collecting vinyl records.   beautiful cover of wonderwall.   playing multiple instruments.   tasting like sunshine.   healing touch.   speaking in prophecies.   smile mingled with wrath.   shunning lies.   sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends. sleeps naked.   arrow to the heart.  paint brushes.   probably has a tinder account.

ARES.   armed for battle.   wants to raise a dog with their significant other.   soft spot for children.  gives piggyback rides.   scarred body.   blood on their hands and face. willing to fight the world for the ones they love. fights against injustice.   warm hugs. well worn combat boots.   boxing gloves. bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest.  ignites revolutions. fear is a prison.  more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think.   exhausted.   damaged goods.  force to be reckoned with.  red roses. curses under their breath.

ARTEMIS.    keen sense of a hunter.   freckles like constellations on their skin.   piercing eyes.   disheveled braid.  moonlight peeking through the shadows.   the calm of the forest at night.   lying on the grass and staring at the stars. mother doe and her fawn.   protecting their kin.   the moon shimmering on a still lake.   quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree.  running with wolves.  bonding while circled around a campfire.   not being much of a people person.   arrow hitting a target.   popping egos.   patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.

ATHENA.    discerning gaze.   unreadable face.   quiet museums.  owl perched on their finger.   armour that intimidates.   eye for architecture.   plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses.   studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid.   big fan of logic.   loves brain teasers.   ancient buildings.  sweaters in neutrals and cool colours.  hair done up.   can kill you with their brain.   heads to the library often to research. sharpened pencils.  abs that can cut steel.  stoic statues.  pottery classes.

DEMETER.     soil covered hands.  smile that can bloom flowers. skin loved by the sun.  being the mom friend. can lift you and your friends.  flowers kept in the pockets of overalls.   takes pride in their beautiful garden.   speaks to their plants.   leaves rustling in the wind. stalks of wheat.  picking fruit.   greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain.   values simplicity. daisies dotted across a collarbone.  curls crowned with flowers.   folded pile of sweaters in warm hues.  pulling out fresh baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

DIONYSUS.     drunk shitposter.   on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second.  seductive smirks.   untamed curls. rich fabrics on dark skin.   sleek furred panthers.   theatre masks.   stage productions.   receiving a standing ovation.   rose caught between their teeth.   being the baby of the bunch.  wild parties that last from sundown to sunup.   creeping vines.   inspiring loyalty.  grand opera houses.   masquerade balls.   rolls of film.  shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine spilled floor.   pouring champagne into flutes.   lives for the applause.

HEPHAESTUS.    the calloused hands of someone who knows labor.   sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes. inventive mind. broad shoulders.   steampunk goggles.   nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes.  ashes.   striking a match.   blueprints for future projects.   fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades.   wrestles with bitterness.  work boots have seen better years.   wrinkled plaid shirts.   iron melted in blazing fire.  huge jackets.   crafting masterpieces.   greased stained overalls.   fascination with robotics.  pain is fuel. stack of weaponry.   even their muscles have muscles.

HERA.    resting bitch face.  dressed to the nines.   cows grazing on a pasture.  cool rain.   loving and hating fiercely.   hand clutching a string of pearls.   large chandelier with glittering crystals.   plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims.   romance to realism. pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that under fuck it.   downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix.  like their selfie or you’re grounded.   knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man.   dark eyes that penetrate your soul.   marble and gold.

HERMES.     devil - may - care smile.   always up - to - date on the latest technology.  will steal your french fries.  does it for the vine.   shitposter.   puts googly eyes on everything.   meme hoarder.   long drives on the highway.   ma and pop diners.   spontaneous road trips.   folded maps.   fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop.   shooting hoops on the basketball court.  chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations.   goes jogging in the morning.   mixes redbull with coffee.   menace on april fool’s.   hoodies and sneakers.

POSEIDON.   storm with skin.  colorful coral reefs.   waves crashing against the shore.   stroking the soft fur of a cat. their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop.  tousled locks.   clothes smeared with paint.  owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more.   leather jackets. fondness for diy projects.  handwriting that flows across the page.   nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin.   velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams.   mood as ever - changing as the sea.   the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.

HADES.     walking home alone in the early morning.   back alleys.   drinking alone in a graveyard. crippling loneliness hidden by sarcasm and cynicism.   crows picking a carcass.   untended dead flowers.  the black sheep of the family.   black coffee.   money can’t buy you happiness.  murder mystery dinner parties.   blood on your shirt collar.   dust illuminated by sunlight.  classical music.  dogs are better than people.   a quiet wrath.  shady business deals.  taking what you are owed.   paint it black.  seasonal affective disorder.   popping the suit collar.   grey rain on a cityscape.

ZEUS.     thunder in their heart. running on coffee.   flash of lightning.   unnatural charisma.   eloquence.   badass in a nice suit.   aficionado of history.  force of nature.   lennyface.  nightmare - filled nights.  proud arm around their lover’s waist.   high - rise buildings.  planes soaring through a cloudless sky. technician on the piano.  maintains order. strong handshake.   juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease.   expensive watch.

tagged by: stole from my old blog! tagging: honestly any1 who wants it.... theres like four ppl in this rpc im not tagging them im shy 

[adiabolikpastel]

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Reiji pt. 1

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,085

Pairing: n/a

ღ Returning to the Human World after a month away, Reiji tries to relax, but receives some unwanted news. ღ

Mun Yu: This is going to be presented a little different than my other written works. Since it is so long, I have decided to publish it in parts, rather than the novel that it is. Each boy will receive their own post, some getting more post than others. For each post, it will make a sort of time line of events - to help paint the entire story. All post will begin with the premise, and the continuation under the cut. Enjoy.

Additionally: I would love to thank @akai-anemone for their wonderful analysis on the affects of the Lunar Eclipse in DL

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another of stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All type of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host if of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, and invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his off spring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening.

Lately the mansion’s once pristine condition had begun to dwindle. This was due to the fact that the only person who ever took an interest in cleaning, was no longer present. The poor home was left in the hands of; lazy, sloppy, gluttonous fiends. So when Reiji finally came back after a month-long absence, he was unable to unwind until the entire mansion was able to return to its proper glory.

What was supposed to be a quiet return, ended up being a rather loud rampage, as Reiji and familiars stormed the mansion. It took them all night, much to the dismay of those home, but it was finally looking normal. After the long night of cleaning, Reiji was finally able to retire to his room. Now in his safe space, the vampire quickly loosened his clothing and eased himself into one of the chairs.

“My goodness… as if those barbarians could not get any worse. Leaving things is such a state…” He sighs, removing his glasses to message his temple. “The day cannot come soon enough where these trips are no longer necessary.” Reiji allows himself to relax, resting his head back. It’d been quite a while since he was in this room. It felt somewhat nice. Familiar.

Just as he was about to nod off, vibrations from his pocket caused him to sit up. Due to recent events, he had been made to get a cell phone. Honestly he hated the thing, but it was the only way that he was able to stay in contact with his beloved. Since her number was the only number in the device, he knew it was her checking in on him.

Reiji brought the small device to his ear, “Good Morning my dear.” He says rather softly. Since leaving the mansion, Rika had gone back to daylight hours. She was currently attending university, on track to double major in Chemistry and Engineering. Honestly he admired her determination. For a human, she was bound to her principals and goals. Despite being with him, she refused to simply let him take care of her.

The two of them talked at length for about an hour. Simply catching up, as it is impossible to communicate while he is away. It is his desire to have Rika join him, or at least, they will have some better form of living arrangement. Things were different without her, though Reiji would never admit that to anyone.

After hanging up, Reiji lifted himself off the chair to get ready for bed. Being back in his old home did offer a sense of comfort. He was not sure if it was from plain shifting, cleaning obsessively, or the effects of the rising sun – but within moments of laying down, Reiji was able to fall into a deep sleep. Although it would feel short lived, as soon the sounds of his siblings filled the mansion.

He had gotten so used to not having to deal with them, what a bother. Slightly ashamed that his brother rose before him, Reiji prepares for the night swiftly, and begins his old routine of morning cleaning. As he does so, the mansion did seem larger without most of its residents. Though Reiji wasn’t complaining, being without Ayato and Laito was a blessing.

Just as he finished up in the kitchen, a bat flew into the kitchen. The winged familiar informed him of a visitor. Moving quickly to the main entrance, the young siren who had been accompanying their father lately stood in the doorway. “Ah, Miss. Oakly. What is it we can do for you tonight?” His tone was pleasant enough, but he knew Skye came with news from their father.

“It was till I had to come here.” Skye offers with a smirk. “Our King has an invitation for you boys.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out an envelope. “He said that you were to open it, and do what is written.”

“Just what is written?” Reiji questions as he takes the letter. “I doubt the mansion is in any condition to host an event-"

“Oh not here! No, it will be at Eden Castle. Make sure all your brothers know. I’ll be around later to deliver your clothes.” Skye says with a small laugh and leaves the mansion.

Slightly confused, Reiji opens the envelope, reading its contents;

Reiji

As you are aware, the Lunar Eclipse approaches. We will bask in this night through a celebration. A grand Masquerade Ball will take place in Eden Castle. Attendance from all of you is non-optional. Do inform your brothers.

Karlheinz

As Reiji read, he could feel a headache begin to plus. Of course he would be in charge of informing all of them. Now he would need to track down the ones not at home. Perhaps it would be best to inform them that they will have little time to refuse. The event was not for another week, he would simply need to get them all in one place before then.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ TO BE CONTINUED ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

[caffeineandimagine]

Immortal Souls - [Shigaraki Vampire AU]

It was raining, but not a normal rain as you saw before, the sky was falling down, crying tears of blood when you received a special invitation who made everyone around you afraid of its intentions. Just a piece of paper inside a letter envelope made shivers run down your spine, a feeling that was lost inside you for years.

Taking a letter opener in hand, you played with danger when you opened that envelope. But because of its colors you knew what would be waiting for you tonight, it was an masquerade ball invitation made by the most feared man who ever walked this earth.

Reading carefully, you got shocked realizing you would be his companion for tonight’s event among strangers to entertain them as they gossip about both of you. But you wished that was the real problem, knowing deep down about his bloody and dreadful reputation.

As the clock chimed at nine o'clock, you encouraged yourself to walk to a path that there would be no turning back from. The more you got involved with that man, the more you wanted to discover all of his desperate secrets, reveal his true self only to you as you were his special one.

Arriving at the gothic castle he lived, you waited for several people to be gossiping loud, drinking and having fun, but were surprised by a red carpet from the front door leading to the ballroom. That could be your death trap waiting for you right there, but you were curious enough to walk and face it.

Opening the ballroom doors and entering it, you feel a bad feeling coming from the place. There were lighted candles all around it, trying to illuminate the impenetrable darkness of that castle, on the floor you could see what appears to be fresh blood.

In a snap of fingers, he was standing right behind you but you didn’t notice, so Shigaraki enjoyed it to take a closer look at your incomparable beauty, catching your soft scent of roses and honey now mixing with your desperate self.

“I’m glad you showed up, the least one I believed that would be capable of such a thing is here right in front of me.” The man smiled at you, with such petulance in those red eyes, an iris of that color never seen by you until that moment.

“Where are the other guests? Don’t tell me you have killed them all...” With a little bit of desperation in your heart, you took a step back, getting not so much far from him.

“It would be a pity for a beautiful lady like you to witness such an event.” He smiled, as the music started to play he offered his hand to start the dance with you.

“Why should I dance with such a creature?” You shouted the last word, you had heard terrible stories of such Count and how he trapped his victims under the castle to drink their blood until it dries.

“If you’re afraid of me, why did you come here?” He laughs with evil in his eyes, he knows all your deepest secrets just with the silence of your answer when he questioned.

“I can feel your desire to be mine, my darling.” He takes a step closer and whispers it in your ear, making you freeze instantly. How could he read you like that?

“I don’t want such a thing!” You try to defend yourself, but you can feel he already knows all your darkest secrets since you walked in.

“Then give me one dance to prove you wrong.” He takes you by the hand guiding you into a beautiful, but mortal dance. When the music ends, you catch him looking inside your soul, making your eyes meet him and letting yourself completely lost in the immensity of that red sea.

That’s when he turns himself into that creature, a bloody sucker people warned you about all these years. But it was too late now, you were trapped in his love cage, you could try to run, but it could be worse if he catches you again, you could scream, but no one would come to save you.

He has been waiting decades for this moment, tasting the blood of the person he has been haunting like an innocent prey, the only one who caught his interest would be turned into his bloody lover forever now. 

It's like your mind vanished for a time, maybe a long time, you don’t even know how long you have been under his devilish spell. You wake from the trance still in the middle of the room, as the dark symphony plays, Shigaraki keeps on guiding you by the hand to the path of no return.

You no longer have control over yourself, your mind tries to fight the bite pain, but the desire to belong to him is greater and keeps on making you drown in the deep sea as you try to breath unsuccessfully.

“Do you want to be mine now?” You feel his cold skin as he pulls you closer to him and whispers in your ear. You know the only choice you have is to choose him over all the other things you wanted before, he’s the only thing you have in mind now, he poisoned you with his fangs craved on your pale skin.

He would be your guilty pleasure, the only one you’ll have by your side while living this immortal life he gave you. That was the price you had to pay for being curious and you paid with your life, your will to live, your freedom just to take a closer look at the eyes of the man who has been merciless to his victims.

And now, you were just like him, a hideous creature who was able to kill innocent people in order to end your bloodlust. Was it worth it to lose it all to be born again as such a monster? All of this because you followed your curiosity and entered the beast’s cage.

[ishgard]

Greek Pantheon Aesthetics - Mana DeRosier

▪ Aphrodite ➜ laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger    

▪ Apollo: ➜ glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of Wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled with wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a Tinder account

▪ Ares: ➜  armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell may have you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath

▪ Artemis: ➜ keen senses of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting its target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling

▪ Athena: ➜ discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a life-long teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic,loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes  

▪ Demeter: ➜ soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom friend, can lift you and all of your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants, leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air

▪ Dionysus: ➜ drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause

▪ Hephaestus: ➜ the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted by blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles

▪ Hera: ➜ resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold

▪ Hermes: ➜ devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes red bull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers    

▪ Poseidon: ➜ storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow▪

▪ Zeus: ➜ thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, pretends that they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with apparent ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch, like a boss

[arse-crack-thistle]

quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[atypicalsenerio]

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts [Maria & Soren]

+1 Heavy Armor starter for @princessmacedon

Of any escort mission he’d had before, the unpleasant taste of this one was enough to almost make him yearn for a highway ambush. Weapons were nowhere to be seen save for guards in formal parade armor or a useless sword dangling off of some gilded noble’s hip, yet Soren couldn’t force the tension out of his shoulders. It was peculiar for a noble’s pride to manifest itself in such an aesthetically beautiful way as the sprawling rose gardens of Count Gloucester’s estate, yet the gentle perfume and fairytale-esque scenery fit for a romantic ball did nothing to put him at ease.

Soren stood next to Maria on the outskirts of the estate, lit by hanging lanterns and the setting sun as carriage wheels rolled over the cobbled street. His hands were folded in front of him in the picture of perfect posture befitting the new evening wear he’d been given, matching with Maria’s. His eyes, however, remained cold, and his expression neutral at best in a harsh comparison to his warmer companion. Maria, at least, seemed a bit more at home than himself. He watched as yet another carriage came by and other servants rushed over to assist a few nobles out and escort them down the long path past the gates to the manor itself.

“It’s a pity this isn’t a masquerade. It would do some of them a favor.” The words passed his lips quietly without thought, and Soren exhaled harshly to himself. 

These types of people left gratuitous bloodshed in their wake without a second glance backwards, be it directly or indirectly. The rest of use are as disposable as handkerchiefs. Waiting for their assigned charge, Lord Acheron, was only putting him more on edge. Soren knew he should behave himself, and yet, “I heard our client is only here on an invite regarding a political favor. Imagine being such an imbecile your neighbor only writes you an invitation to a public event when his hand is forced. Though it’s an easy wager, I imagine he’ll be as insufferable as he is late.” That wasn’t to say Soren had a high opinion of their host, either. He had little doubt the master of the house and his son were the type of people that some part of him would like to see get kicked in the shins.

He bit back the bitterness that coated his insides like bile, the old wounds and bad blood with it in regards to nobility. It was a job, that’s all. He had no issue with Maria. Maybe she could even enjoy herself once their little escort was over, though he doubted the same for himself.

The arrival of a new, lavishly decorated carriage caught his attention. Feathered plumes swayed on the heads of the horses pulling the carriage, and even in the low light Soren could make out someone inside who seemed to match the description they’d been given. “Golden curls, down to the mustache. He’s your problem- I’ll tend to the lady.”

Soren strode to the carriage first, the empty formality aspect of their required service coming to him easier than any other part. He clicked open the carriage door, the correct address coming to him like a foreign verb conjugation as he slightly bowed. “Lady Acheron. Welcome.”

Lady Acheron seemed to be more hat and frills than anything else at first glance. She was, however, sharp in her elderly age. “Chin up, boy.” What did she care? He was little more than a decoration at this function. A satin gloved hand reached out for his arm and Soren tensed, the reaction disguised as seeming to offer support as she got out.

She got out and didn’t let go of his forearm, clinging like the talons of a vulture, apparently expecting to be guided all the way to the front steps like this. Soren’s face went blank again, processing this new lot in life, as Archeon himself started gabbing.

“Ah, it seems Gloucester managed to scrape together a decent gathering, hm? I must say my own estate would make a far more suitable gathering, and expecting my elderly aunt to travel all this way, how inconvenient and arrogant! Stingy! Typical Gloucester... a miracle he kept his word at all...old Riegan knows how to treat his friends, at least.”