#curse the fiends their children too

[empyreanmirror]

"it just isn't fair" they say, but the Sun knows patterns like the Moon knows change. Our world is a spinning wheel, we play, somewhere, on repeat. In every universe you will knock on the village gates, in every past universe I have let you in. Foolish, misguided, doomed, as we all are, to run in circles in the night until dawn breaks.

[ghostofashina]

"Curse the fiends, their children too. And their children, forever, true. A bottomless curse, a bottomless sea, source of all greatness, all things that be."

Godwyn, the Golden. Reference: Baroque Merman by Fyodor Pavlov.

[eraserbread]

so, you fucking hate toji fushiguro.

its everything about him, his values don't align with yours, he's cruel, talks to you like you're nothing, and only calls and texts on his time.

oh, he's away on a job? you won't hear from him in days. he surely doesn't have the decency to drop off money or food to megumi and tsumiki before he leaves. he always shrugs it off, saying: "it's not my job to take care of the brats."

so, why, if you hate him so much, can you never, ever say no?

if you can't stand his selfish nature, why is he standing in your living room, back turned to you, hands pressed to his hips?

you drop the paper grocery bag in your hand, it shatters the quiet environment. toji's head turns over his shoulder.

"just got back from feeding your children, don't mind me." you bite, tone laced with exhaustion and annoyance.

all he can do is chuckle -- laugh right in your face. "c'mon. don't be mean t'me,"

"i hate you, toji. i hate that you always come back.” you fling your purse and keys onto the floor, feet grinding into the wood as you approach him.

he’s looking at you now. can’t hide that smirk on his face when the ritual begins again. “yeah? hate me harder next time. then, the kids won’t have anyone to give a damn about them when i’m gone.”

“take off your clothes.” you growl into his lips, kissing him like a parched desert cat. he was so fucking terrible and cruel, but your body craves him. you dream about him. the sexual chemistry is staggering. it’s why you love his megumi like your own — god knows he deserves it, too.

“but, mama i’m hungry too. you got a mind to share?”

“just - shut up and take them off.”

he’s actually obedient, taking the tie of his pants and pulling it loose. he never wears underwear, so the heavy, brazen sight of his cock, already half hard for you, is normal.

this venomous exchange is normal.

he fucks you while you’re spewing hatred towards him, bent over in the kitchen with your dress hiked at the waist. he has your face buried in the cool countertop with a hand to your throat. it’s hard to breathe, but you never want him to stop.

you want to feel his body inside yours, scrambling your insides to mush all the time. it’s a feeling you can’t live without — fiend over and beg for. toji’s just happy to get his dick wet and loves the way you curse at him.

“right there — yeah. arch your back like a fucking slut, mama. god, you drive me crazy.” his thick hand slaps down on your ass, parting your cheeks so he can see the way his cock enters you so passionately. he’s puppeteering you like this, his words the only string you need to bend and bow to his every desire.

you curse him when you cum, creaming hotly around him until there’s no more fight in your bones. the after- sex guilt hits like a ton of bricks even when he’s fucking you like a toy. now, his only mission is getting himself off.

but, he still wants you present.

“the fuck ‘r you thinking about?” he growls, lifting your head with a fistful of hair. his muscles flex as he tugs you up, twisting his fist to get a better grip.

“cause no one’s gonna fuck you like i can.”

[treevore]

Curse the fiends, their children too. And their children, forever, true.

Supernatural + Bloodborne

[zuppizup]

For the ficlet prompt: got anything from your Bloodmoon Rayla au in the works?

How’s this little snippet from some of what I’ve been working on? Works as a little stand alone, I think.

———

Rayla walks through the Sunfire camp, eyes resolutely ahead as she tries to pretend she can’t see the suspicious looks from elves and humans alike. Steeling her face, she swallows as parents pull their children inside their tents and priests make wards of safety and protection.

It is understandable they are afraid of her. All they know of Moonshadows cursed like she is, are what they’ve heard in stories and myth. Blood thirsty fiends, unrepentant killers.

Darkness come to life. A threat to all things living, elf and human.

She sighs as her and Callum’s tent comes into view. Her home, her refuge. For now, at least.

Rayla smirks as she sneaks up behind Callum, running her fingers through his hair and laughing softly when he starts. “Got your book.”

Perhaps he is at a disadvantage, clearly engrossed in whatever he was doing, his back turned to her as she’d entered their tent, but frustratingly she’d never been that good at sneaking up on him of all people.

Not until recently…

“That was quick.” He turns into her touch, eyes bright and welcoming as he smiles widely at her. His hands immediately reach for her, and she drops the book on his makeshift desk in favour of embracing him.

The scorn of the outside world melts away when they were together. He never looks at her with fear or disgust, his smile always quick and welcoming.

Being with him, it’s like she can momentarily forget what she has become.

“There’s not exactly a good reason to hang around Lux Aurea, you know?” She teases, continuing to caress his scalp, licking her lips at the soft sigh that escapes his throat.

She hasn’t been gone long, only overnight but any time apart from him is too long.

“Still no trouble?” He frowns, eyes moving over her body, clearly looking for signs of injury.

“Nope,” she answers quickly. The fact the corrupted creatures in Lux Aurea seem entirely disinterested in her is still unnerving, but considering the circumstances, they need to use every advantage at their disposal. And it is a small comfort that she can get whatever books he needs without having to put him at risk. He’d obviously objected to these solo missions in the beginning, but eventually she had proven it made more sense to go alone. The propensity for self sacrifice when it came to each other resulting in both of them making risks they wouldn’t if she could just walk in there without incident.

And so, she’s amassed a small library worth of books for Callum during her reconnaissance.

“How are you feeling?” Clearly concerned, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Fine,” she insists, rolling her eyes.

“I’m just checking.” He sighs softly, cupping her cheek. “You didn’t run into any trouble? Didn’t exert yourself? There was some big celebration last night, so lots of food and meat-”

“Callum, I said I’m fine.” She insists, pushing down her irritation at his fussing. He is only trying to help. “Literally nothing happened during my trip. Anyway, the full moon is still a week away. You know-”

“I know.” He looks at her earnestly, thumb moving across the markings on her cheek bones. “I know you still don’t like to ask though, so, like I said, I’m just checking.”

Rayla smiles, swallowing past the lump in her throat. He is right of course. She doesn’t like to ask, but he can always tell when the thirst begins to creep up on her, when her mind starts to wander and her attention wane. She’s only been cursed a few months, but exerting herself, using her new, dark powers makes her thirsty too. It isn’t as predictable as in the beginning when only the full moon made her hunger.

“Thank you,” she presses her forehead against his, kissing him softly.

“Anytime,” he answers without hesitation. “You know I’d do anything for you.” He pulls her closer, pressing his lips to hers.

- Excerpt from my work in progress follow up to my Bloodmoon Huntress AU, Bloodthirsty

Prompts Post

[flaneur001]

Since it’s Christmas, I had this fic floating around in my mind for sometime. So here’s [Redacted]’s Christmas Miracle. A little Christmas present for my fellow 14 days with you enthusiasts ^^

(This wonderful visual novel and characters belong to -@14dayswithyou )

[Redacted] x GN Reader

Word count- 1541 words

[Redacted]’s Christmas Miracle

It was Christmas Eve. The chilling air danced around [Redacted’s] form, biting and nipping at his exposed nose and ears. All his piercings felt cold on his face, numbing it in a way he liked.

He trudged towards the downtown bar, inconspicuously following a raucous group of friends from a safe distance. He didn’t have a hard time blending with the shadows, for he believed he had quite a forgettable appearance.

Sighing, he dumped a paper bag filled with contact lenses, hair extensions, and bar equipment into his black bag. He had lost count of the numerous personalities he had perfected and put on in the past few months.

[y/n]’s tastes kept changing as they went through phases, and he went along with their every preference, trying to fit into their fantasies and become someone that Angel noticed. [Redacted] would go to the ends of the earth for his Angel but the last personality was sure a pain to master.

It was during one of the multiple video chats with Moth earlier this month when [y/n] mentioned that they had recently developed a taste for cool and mysterious bartenders who were specifically, ‘brown-eyed, had slightly long dark hair, and performed cool tricks with cocktail-shakers’

Hence the brown lenses and the hair extensions. But [Redacted] winced when he remembered the endless nights spent trying to master the cocktail shaker tricks. All that effort and his Angel didn’t even notice him, save for a small polite ‘thank you’ that he knew they reserved for strangers.

He felt a little disheartened that this personality failed too. Nothing lately had been enough to grab [y/n]’s attention and he was itching to get closer to his Angel. To somehow be a part of their perfect little circle that he was always a spectator of.

He continued his slow pace, training his eyes on the only person that mattered in that group of friends. Or ‘fiends’ as [Redacted] liked to call them. Although he loved [y/n] unconditionally, sometimes he cannot help but question their taste in the people they chose to surround themselves with.

[Redacted] cursed fluently under his breath, “Why that handsy little piece of…” and balled his fists at his sides when he saw Teo playfully slap [y/n]’s bum, suddenly regretting not having brought his trusty sledgehammer together.

As they walked further down the street, it gradually became crowded with last-minute shoppers. For a short moment, [Redacted] ran into a big family walking towards the diner across the street. He lost sight of Angel and their friends, but due to his tall height towering over all the people, he lost no time as he spotted them in the gaggle of people.

A cold and wet sensation fluttered on his eyelids. One of the kids yelled, annoyingly tugging at his father’s coat, “Look! Look! Dad it’s snowinggggg” the kid said in a sing-song voice. [Redacted] looked up at the dark sky in wonder, “Oh, it’s snowing alright!” he murmured as if noticing his surroundings for the first time.

The atmosphere put a damper on [Redacted]’s already souring mood. He was not a holiday person, and these joyous festivities felt increasingly nauseating as he walked further down the street.

[Redacted] turned a corner, tailing Angel and their friends. A man dressed as Santa intercepted his silent vigil, grating on his nerves. Dangling a tiny candy-cane keychain, he spoke in that phony signature Santa voice, “Ho Ho Ho boy here, take this keychain for a dollar and make a wish…your little donation will help several homeless children.” the man demanded, eyeing him expectantly.

[Redacted]’s azure eyes volleyed between Angel and this darned man who seemed like he would not leave anytime soon.

Exasperated, he reached into his pocket and placed a dollar on the man’s outstretched palm—with more force than necessary—snatching the keychain from his grasp. He stuffed it deep into his jeans pocket and began moving towards the bar.

“Make a wish boy. Believe in the Christmas Miracle !” The phony Santa called after him. [Redacted] rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Miracle…as if”

The fact [Redacted] did not believe in miracles would be the understatement of the century. But he didn't know why...he foolishly wanted to believe in them...If only for today. Especially when his ocean eyes longingly traced the outline of Angel with their friends through the glass window from outside. They were sitting cozily inside a booth in the dimly lit bar.

He rubbed his hands together and pulled the hood of his hoodie on his head as he stood there in cold weather. The gentle snow covered his broad shoulders the longer he spent time outside. [Redacted] watched Angel’s antics with amusement, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The clock was soon approaching midnight. Everyone geared up to welcome Christmas. Angel’s antics became wilder by the second as they slowly went from tipsy to a more drunken state. [Redacted]’s insides itched with anxiety. His protective tendencies flared watching [y/n] twirl around the expanse of the bar. Their friends only laughed at the sight, and Teo even had the gall to record them calling Angel a "terrible lightweight"

'Note to self-corrupt Teo's phone later', he mused with a cold smirk.[Redacted] heaved a frustrated sigh and resignedly decided to go inside and keep a closer watch. But just as he stepped inside the bar, a zooming figure crashed forcefully into his chest, knocking all air out of him.

With mild surprise, [Redacted] realized that it was [y/n] who had bumped into him. Tensed and a little shocked, [Redacted] steadied his little Angel with strong arms, and to his utter disbelief, [y/n] peered up at him, craning their neck at [Redacted]’s towering form.

[Redacted] was dumbstruck. His mind went blank as [y/n], his little adorable Angel, gave him a rare genuine smile. Although [Redacted] knew that his Angel was drunk, his heart still beat a mile a minute as he gawked at that beautiful little smile. His mind zeroed in on the fact that this smile was directed towards him. Not some personality that he had put on, but it was HIM, that they looked at like this.

He hung his head a little, feeling a bit self-conscious. But then his heart almost stopped, his breath hitched in his throat when Angel leaned in closer and traced the snake-bite piercings adorning his face, “These are pretty" they slurred in a cute voice.

“So, do you want to do it?” Angel asked, breaking [Redacted] out of his trance.

“D-Do w-what?” [Redacted] stammered his throat suddenly very dry.

“Oh we’ll have to do it…or else we’ll get bad luck.” [y/n] hiccupped, then yanked [Redacted] by the strings of his hoodie, winding them around their fingers as they pulled him in, mere inches apart from their face.

Reading the slightly alarmed expression on [Redacted]’s face, [y/n] chuckled as they whispered, teasing him a little, “I’m talking about the mistletoe silly..” they winked. And [Redacted] finally noticed the mistletoe hanging above their heads.

“WHOOP DRUNK [y/n] IS THE BEST [y/n] !!!!” Teo cheered in the background as Jae and Leon created a loud ruckus.

“YESS DARL SNOG HIM SENSELESS” Leon yelled too, sloshing around his beer on the table as he egged [y/n] on.

Gaining sudden confidence from all the cheering, Angel smirked smugly before they stood on their tippy toes and leaned in, kissing [Redacted] square on the mouth.

‘Am I dead? Is this what heaven feels like?’ [Redacted] wondered as [y/n]’s breath enveloped his senses. He could taste pineapples and coconuts on their breath.

‘So they had Piñacoladas’ he smiled.

But then his eyes widened when he felt [y/n] slip their tongue into his mouth. It was as if all coherence fled him when he closed his eyes. Giving in to indulgence, he gripped Angel by their waist, pulling them closer. A palm splayed at their back protectively, supporting them as another hand snaked around the nape of their neck, gaining traction as he angled them into a deeper kiss.

A minute passed and Angel broke the kiss in need of air, earning a low whine from [Redacted]. Their chest heaved in tandem. Angel's flushed face smiled at him before they whispered, “Wow…that was my first"

Angel pecked on [Redacted]’s lips one last time and retracted themselves from him. [Redacted]'s hands lingered on their shoulders a beat too long. He balked at the information dropped on him. ‘So it was their first kiss too? But they have always been so popular…’ he thought, marveling at his Angel with a starstruck expression.

The slow din of voices gradually came back, jolting [Redacted] out of this little moment. Angel's friends approached them and whisked them away as [Redacted] swiftly pulled his hood down, shielding his face.

“See you around..” Angel trailed off, waving their fingers at [Redacted], stepping outside into the chilly night air.

For the first time in forever, a big goofy smile broke onto [Redacted]’s face as he stood in the afterglow of that first kiss. It was beautiful and nothing like he had ever imagined. He pushed his hands deep inside his jeans pockets and began following the group when his fingers curled around the candy-cane keychain resting inside.

A mysterious smile bloomed across his face as he wondered, ‘Sometimes miracles do exist’. Trudging along the snowy road, watching his Angel from afar, the atmosphere didn't feel so gloomy anymore

[wellthebardsdead]

*The follow up to this disaster of an au *

———

Gortash: *carrying Lûne over his shoulder and panicking the whole time*

Durge: *closes the door behind him as they enter envers chambers* okay, drop the fiend on the floor I’ll gut him here and be done with it!

Gortash: I- no you blasted idiot I’m not killing him! *sighs and lays him down on a chaise by the fire, staring at him in awe at how he’s grown since they were children* he really was a devil… *strokes his face curiously* hopefully he’s still as sweet and easily manipulated as I recall-

Falûne: *groans waking up*

Gortash: *backs up as Durge hides behind the chaise* Ah-

Falûne: *blinks open his eyes slowly and stares up at the figure before him* I- ugh- my head?… *sits up and awkwardly folds his wings up* who- You… it’s you-

Gortash: ah, so about me barging into your home I-

Falûne: I’ve waited decades for this… *rises to his hooves and stalks closer, standing shorter than him and yet carrying a presence much grander than he could ever hope to achieve, every step imposing, every swish of his tail filling Gortash with dread until suddenly he stops just short of him and takes his hand, giving it a soft kiss with an almost poisonously sweet smile* Thank you… for saving me.

Gortash: I?… I’m sorry? I don’t follow?

Falûne: you saved me. When we were children. Granted I didn’t show my appreciation at the time. I was confused and afflicted with a malaise of my mind cursed upon me by worshippers of Shar cavorting with that bastard Keldran… it broke my mind and left me dependant on him to navigate the world, suffering his abuse with a dim witted smile was my only way of existing in life… and then you came… and you saved me… so for that I’m grateful.

Gortash: I… see. *smiles taking his hand in his and leaning in to give it a kiss too* I’m glad I was able t- *gasps as Falûnes hand lunges towards his face, claws sinking into his skin as he grabs hold and pulls him in with malice in his eyes*

Falûne: but, saving me was never your intention was it? I was nought more than a sacrificial lamb to save your miserable and sorry existence!! And for what?! To pay the debts of your parasitic parents?! Pathetic! *throws him to the floor* And now you break into my uncles estate! Break into my room! Steal my property- *gestures to the crown and stones seated on the table by the chaise* Assaulted me! Knocked me unconscious! And now you’ve the gall to dare lay your filthy hands upon me after you kidnapped me!! *raises his hand to disintegrate him*

Durge: *dashes out from behind the chaise and bludgeons him over the head again, knocking him out once more*

Gortash: *coughs as Lûne lands on him, the devils weight much heavier than he expected for such a small frame* …shit.

Durge: I tried to warn you.

*several days later*

Falûne: *arms folded and looking utterly disgusted by everything around him* ilithid slime- goblin guts- viscera- dirt and ugh what even is that?!

Gale: what?

Falûne: that horrendously ugly hairy creature hugging your face?!

Gale: you mean my beard?!

[starspann]

do you write for poly!matt & trey with reader? what about some smoke sesh hc’s?

YES?? OMG TY FOR REQUESTING THIS

smoking w/ matt and trey hc’s

matt stone x reader x trey parker

fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used

★☆✵☆★

warnings: smoking, cursing, suggestive themes

dating matt and trey and smoking with them <3

★☆✵☆★

an activity that you 3 frequently participate in

did it a lot together, before and after dating

sometimes you use a pipe, being that it’s yours, you light up and get first hit

when it does come to rolling, you tend to let matt or trey do it for the sole purpose of watching their fingers at work

watching the smoke leave their lips might be one of the hottest things ever

now when it comes to the entertainment,

you literally have to put up a fight to pick the movie

you’ll always end up choosing anyway,

and it’s always something stupid

think of an annoying, slapstick 90’s comedy, like the cable guy or billy madison

(not saying these r bad bc i lowkey adore them)

“oh my god.” trey gasps loudly

“what??” you reply, worry in your voice,

“this movie fucking sucks.”

earns him a good smack on the arm

“you fucking scared me!!”

i can imagine that trey is a little more energetic and talkative while matt lays back, a bit more tired and relaxed

doesn’t mean that matt isn’t talking though

in fact, they CANNOT shut up

actually impossible to have a few minutes of silence

it’s honestly cute watching them interact in such a state

giggling to each other and pointing at the tv screen and their surroundings like children

they piss themselves laughing with their dumb little inside jokes

you just sit there and observe with a smile on your face, joint in hand

“y/nnnn,” matt whines, sinking into the couch

“pass it over already, fuckin’ fiend over here..”

“shhh, shutup, c’mere—” you’d gesture him to come closer

yes, you shotgun the smoke into his mouth

and yes, trey gets super jealous and demands you do it with him too

matt leans into you and let’s you play with his hair, his hands,,

trey would rather have your hands under his shirt, gently raking your nails across his back— he likes the sensation

matt babbles on and on about random shit. he can barely get through one sentence without starting another story halfway.

trey gets cuddly, suddenly he’s never felt the touch of a human being before and needs to be all over you and matt

he definitely ends up sprawled out on top of you guys

his head in your lap, legs on top of matt’s, probably has his foot in his face

“ew! gross, dude.”

cue giddy chuckles from you and trey

“pssstt… y/n..” he whispered, looking up at you

you look down to see his blue, glossy, low-lidded eyes..

oh my god

trey notices the way you stare at him

“hi.” he says with a stupid smile on his face

“hey, baby.” you giggle

from behind you, matt’s hands find their way to your waist,

or were they there before?

smoke sesh quickly turns to a make out sesh

[atefingersdagger]

DISTRICT CULTURE!! Can be any district

I LOVE THIS TOPIC

District 2 is the one I have most headcannons on, so we'll start with them vs. going in numerical order!

District 2 culture is warrior-like, as we know, but it's also deeply rooted in loyalty. While some of that loyalty has been used for the Capitol, it truly goes back to District 2 at heart. I headcanon two symbolic gestures: a grabbing of each other's arms and a reciprocal squeeze that dates back to the Dark Days (and is supposed to be banned, but many use it in private). The other is something that ancient Romans used to do: put their thumbs into their closed fist.

It looks like sheathing a sword, i.e., showing mercy. There is even a Latin phrase for it, "pollice compresso favor iudicabatur," which means "goodwill decided by compressed thumb." (This is a recent one, so I sadly only have this one in a draft somewhere). This would be used as a sign of respect.

Eespecially given to district partners after killing them. District 2 tributes are expected to kill their district partners with utmost respect; not killing them in their sleep, only mercy killing of they are vulnerable. Otherwise, it's not considered a fair fight nor honorable. There's a Latin phrase for that, too. Something about a fight requires two people. They need to show loyalty to their district by not betraying their partner (one exception in my fics is a victor no one likes and is like genuinely scared of)

Another headcanon that I'm working on in a draft is that training centers and quarries have Latin phrases written on their doors/entrances. (Yes, I do have 30+ notebook pages on Latin phrases along with translations and another notebook with correlations for Cato + Clove.)

A main quarry is called "The Aggregate," which has its own song I wrote for it as a form of cheer and comradery for shared labor (found in my fic "Of the Fitest")

District 2 is also split up into two large towns named after rock-related words. Karst, the north where it snows and Clove is from, and Ashlar where Cato is from that's more south. The former specializes in Peacekeeper headquarters and main training. They also make weaponry more than other places. However, Ashlar is richer due to their construction work and ability to sell more goods.

Peacekeepers in the novels aren't allowed children, but I headcanon that is only the case for one's who have to travel to other districts. Low ranking ones are allowed marriage and children. Hence why Clove's father is a Peacekeeper in my main fic, and he's low ranking.

District 2 actually gets the best sex Ed as well. Their trainees have the option to have implants at the age of 17 (could be underground, but Snow knows and turns a blind eye) as these are the tributes most eager to volunteer so them being pregnant could throw off the Games for many reasons. Along with their need for Peacekeepers and their restrictions on families, they are given comprehensive sex Ed in order to avoid any "mishaps."

I think other districts have it rather awful with that (think deep red, southern american states and their sex education vs. blue states, high teen pregnancy rates, etc.). Katniss describes Cato as "cursing like a fiend" when falling from the tree. This leads me to believe that District 2 is a lot less chaste and more open in a culture of sexual education with less moral division on "appropriateness."

Something else that's been talked about a lot but is a headcanon I've had for a long time is that District 1 has many descendants of Mormons. Geographically, it makes sense and would explain why many of the tributes have blonde hair and somewhat less diverse range described in the novels (I think District 2 is the most diverse).

District 7 at one point was a contender for a Career district but didn't have the funding or government love to train their kids like how District 2 does. However, the tributes from there in earlier Games were often asked to ally with the assumption of axe welding. District 7 also does put a lot of importance on teaching children (even those too young to cut down trees) on using axes and saws for the Games.

District 3 has a specific region made for medical equipment (the boy from 3 in my fic is from there, names Caesi, which is short for an element used in x-ray machines). They used to manufacture medicine too before the Dark Days, but after the war, the Capitol ceased that as District 3 had been supplied medical aids to troops. That area is called Idhes, named after a technology philosopher but also an institute for economy. It's located where Chicago is today in my fic.

I have more, smaller ones, but this post is already long enough. However, if there's a different district(s) you'd like to know more about specifically, please ask! I absolutely love babbling about all this stuff. (Also crossing my fingers someone asks for headcanons on the muttations)

[miku-meeku]

☽✧═════╡✦༺.·:·.☽✧ 𝒲𝐸𝐿𝒞𝒪𝑀𝐸 ✧☾.·:·.༻✦╞═════✧☾

☽✧════════╡✦༺.·:·.☽✧ ʚϊɞ ✧☾.·:·.༻✦╞═══════✧☾

WARNING: Minors DNI. This is an NSFW blog because Miku is too [REDACTED] for a certain blonde mf.

"Once upon a time, there lived a lonely girl in a lonely dreamworld named Elly." "For as long as she can remember, it has always been this way. There was nobody else but her in her own little world as she pour out her dreams to the lonely world." "Though the story might not have a happy ending...Won't you stay a little while longer and listen to her tale?" - Tokki

☽✧════════╡✦༺.·:·.☽✧ ʚϊɞ ✧☾.·:·.༻✦╞═══════✧☾

interested in commissioning poor lil ol me? [heres a temp shitty comms sheet dies]

✧☾ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ☽✧

⭐ #asks - Miku answers whatever it is you send

⭐ #meeks museum - WHAT IS MIKU COOKING UP TODAY?!?!

⭐ #meeku art talk - how dOES the wise Miku cook....??

⭐ #hatsune meeku - Hatsune Miku wannabee tries singing

⭐ #very sane meeku behaviour - can this girl stop yapping for one second

✧☾ 𝐹𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻𝓈 𝒾𝒹𝓀 ☽✧

⭐ #dol pc - DoL OCs (because making ocs are fun)

⭐ #w0w dol lore - Story lore of Whitney and Amy(PC) (also consists of my other PC lores)

⭐ #chainsaw man - I can't believe Miku abandoned Denji for Whitney- sHUT-

⭐ #dream fiend miku - Miku's Chainsaw Man Devil OC

⭐ ????? - Story lore of Dream Devil wanting to become human (and also fall in love w denji in the process because i love denji)

✧☾ 𝒪𝒞 𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 ☽✧

⭐ #original character - Would you like to peek into her worlds?

⭐ #COMA - "I heard a group of kids got into an accident for sleeping and dreaming too much. Poor pathetic children... What kind of dreams could they be having now?"

⭐ #Once Upon a Time... - "Did you know each one of us have our own existing dreamworlds? Each person's dreamworlds comes with a story, like a fairytale! But only those who are special enough gets to have such a dream. I wonder if such a thing is a blessing or a curse..."

and many more... eventually soon...

[did you know miku can hop into different dreamworlds haha?] ❧ mikumeeku.carrd.co

[c0rrupt4]

𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘆 •︎ Il Dottore x Male Reader

This is Chapter 2. You can read the prologue here. Chapter 1 here. Or the book on Wattpad here.

"Yes, sorry to interrupt, but who is 'he'?" Dottore, questioned as he was taking notes.

"Ah, sorry my deepest apologies I forgot I'm not speaking to someone from my own planet. He is (Y/N) (L/N). This man is awful enough that some people can't even bear to utter his name only referring to him as he." Feno said with an awkward chuckle.

"I see, what despicable acts did this man commit to earn such a reputation for himself?"

"Ah, for starters he was the sole reason for 3 World wars, there were other wars and battles he had a hand in too, mass genocide, annihilating clans, sending races and creatures into and near extinction and the list goes on. For example, the parasites you see were actually a butterfly beetle hybrid. They are called Hendra. They are quite passive creatures and will curiously follow humans just because they find you interesting. They are extinct except for the modified, dark magic-imbued versions he cross-bred, and the crossbred ones are ANYTHING but friendly."

"I see, tell me more," Dottore said as he motioned for Viva to follow along as the three entered the portal, stepping into a new world.

"Ah, my Henda is gone... no worries. I'll make sure to send more than one next time." I said with a heavy sigh, moving away from my desk, dragging the heavy chain that was around my neck.

"200 years..." I paused to add another tick to the brick tower wall. "200 years since that cursed woman imprisoned me with her pathetic little spell. If it wasn't for the fact that I was drunk at a feast... hah... I would have had her head on a silver platter."

200 years without seeing the sun, moon, and stars. 200 years without being able to enjoy a decent fight. 200 years without any contact with the outside world, other than through my Controlled Hendra. And where are my good-for-nothing followers? GONE. It was infuriating! Me, an esteemed powerful wizard, reduced to nothing but a children's bedtime story or to be blamed whenever famine came upon these pathetic creatures. While Ruka... Ruka was deemed a god?

"If it weren't for me Ruka wouldn't even know what power is! Why.. why that blasted Elven woman would be still busy doing her foolish latern dances!" I ranted on as I trudged over to my bed. Weighed down by the heavy enchanted chain that bound me to this tower.

"It's alright. Today the tides have changed in my favor, Dottore... from the brief viewing of his memories, he seems like my kind of guy... Maybe, just maybe, I can use this fool to not only conquer Lumar but Teyvat too!"

"Ah, yes, welcome to Lumar travelers from Teyvat!"

"Lumar is so beautiful..." Viva said in awe as she walked around the garden.

Dottore moved to walk around the garden too. "Feno, where are we in Lumar exactly?"

"This is the garden of the temple, located in the Rosokha Empire it's kept in pristine shape as Lady Ruka adores floral."

"Who is this 'Lady Ruka?' Is she that woman in the statue of the underground temple? And is she the same woman in the state of the fountain? She seems like she's an important part of your history." Dottore said as he sat down on a beautiful fountain. It was the same statue of the Elven women, but this time her pose was simply holding a candle, but the difference is she was wearing a long robe and was decorated from head to toe with jewels.

"She must be a hero, or maybe the wife of a King!" Viva piped in only to receive a glare from Dottore.

"Ah, but Lady Ruka is far more than just that! She is our beautiful Goddess! As I recall telling you about (Y/N) (L/N) earlier... 200 years ago, she fought against him, and many hours later she came out triumphant. Imprisoning the fiend so he could no longer continue his reign of terror! Not only that, she's so modest that she requests we don't refer to her as Goddess but just 'Lady'." Feno had told the tale with such passion that it reminded Dottore of how Pierro speaks of the Tsaritsa at times.

"She sounds like Archons back in Teyvat! Right, Feno?" Viva smiled as she said this.

"Yes, a lot like your archons."

"Hey Feno, how do you know so much about Teyvat yet the portal was closed for so long?"

"Yes, how do you know? I'm curious myself, and thank you for finally making a comment that's worth listening to Viva." Dottore said causing Viva to look towards the ground to avoid his annoyed gaze.

"Now, now, all comments are worth listening to! But, we have archives dating back 400 years to when the portal was open. It was sealed a little over 150 years ago as we used it as a way to banish His... underlings. I would be happy to give you copies of it all to take back to Teyvat after showing you around Lumar. I at least want to show you around the Rosokha Empire, the Kingdom our fair Lady Ruka rebuilt."

"I see. Why not," Dottore said. "I planned on taking notes along the way, so this will be good. Although, are there other Empires or Kingdoms? Are they ruled similarly to how Archons rule Teyvat?" Dottore questioned eagerly.

"I see you are excited my dear, Dottore. You'll learn everything you wish to know about Lumar in due time. But, yes, Lumar is ruled similarly like that with Gods having their own nation. But we don't have Visions, Gnosis, or Celestia, and Gods are nowhere near abundant enough for there to be wars among gods. At least we believe so."

"I see." Dottore said as he took a moment to jot this all down.

"Can we meet Lady Ruka?"

【︎ᴜᴘ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ...】︎

ルカと帝国 ❀

║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █

[swallowtail-ageha]

I like to think that the voice going "curse the fiends and their children too" during the hunter's nightmare cutscene is kos

[ghostofashina]

A SEVERED SUN: a new halloween fanfiction rises! Inspired by the curses of the eldest sons of Marika.

Decades after Messmer's departure, Godwyn sails to the shores of the Realm of Shadows under the duty of a promise and the shadow of a curse that will not be confined. "Curse the fiends, their children too and their children, forever true..."

EXPLICIT — MONSTEROMANCE — GODWYN, THE GOLDEN/MESSMER, THE IMPALER — PRINCE OF DEATH/BASE SERPENT — DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Chapter One: A drowned corpse.

We are no different, despite our arrangement of features, Godwyn stopped before a tree with hanged men pending as if they were fruits from the twisted branches. As Mother always said, what lieth in one’s soul, lieth within the other.

AVAILABLE ON AO3.

[fishermcn]

“Watch the waves my son, catch the glinting of the stars on their surface and see in them the same waters our Mother treads across the Cosmos.”

Stretched out before him on the table, the bits and baubles that make a Workshop hunter’s weapon the masterpiece of cutthroat craftsmanship they are have been broken down into more manageable piles of scrap. In the faint light by lantern cast he runs his hands over the choicest pieces, springs and gears plucked from their places to be refastened and tightened.

Too many of the trick weapons they’ve pried from dead hunter's hands were beyond the strength or skill of mere men to make good use of, built for those enhanced by the "good blood" flowing through their veins. They're better put to use for his tinkering or being smelted down for far more profitable ventures; ventures that were far less likely to draw the unwanted attention of hunters from either faction. That left such individuals as himself who were too proud or poor to imbibe that oh so precious blood locked in at the lowest link of the Yharnam food chain, and meant the hunting of beasts and hunters alike required far more planning and patience than he could afford.

Which means evening the odds, if only slightly.

"Watch the tide my son, drawn in and out with every breath Mother Kosm takes as she blesses her children and damns the bastards who would bedevil them."

Couldn't just make do, no. Not when a saw cleaver needed the power of unnatural muscle to bite and gnaw through beasthide and bone, not when the kickback of a blunderbuss meant for a proper hunter could shatter every bone in your average man's arm. Have to break them down to their very bits, bury yourself within their mechanical innards to understand what makes them tick and click and work before attempting to resurrect them. Make them useful, make them potent for any fool to pick up and hunt without sacrificing the stopping power and killing edge they need to keep putting the damned beasts on a pyre.

"Watch the shore my son, for when Her children are left behind by the receding tide, we their brothers must deliver them back into Her embrace."

A bolt's tightened, and the hinge swings in and out without so much as a squeak or creak. With a more forceful jerk of the arm, the lugged spear head's swinging out to reveal the embedded blunderbuss's barrel. Leaning back with a stretch and a muttered curse or two at the twinging in his back, Sam shifts his shoulders and takes aim at the nearest wall. Flinty eyes narrow as he adjusts to the weight, soot-stained fingers running down the shaft of the remade riflespear in search of any unsightly cracks or bits sticking out where they shouldn't... before rising to his feet, taking a deep breath, and transforming the trick weapon.

"Watch your thoughts my son, for should we turn from the tide and the sea we likewise turn from Mother Kosm..."

In moments, the blunderbuss is obscured and the lugged spear takes its place. Gears turn without catching, springs tighten in preparation without snapping free, the bolts hold steady and the hinges don't give as a weapon once built for greater hands than his own obeys and doesn't fall to utter pieces. Sam releases his held breath with a rasp and a small laugh, something that feels like delight flickering in his spindly chest, before a cough snuffs it out and he's bent nearly half over while leaning on the riflespear.

"... and as the fiends, forever too shall we be cursed. Forever, and true."

[helloescapist]

Love and a Bath | Mitsuri Kanroji

Word Count: 2483

Setting: Mitsuri Kanroji x gn!reader (reader is depressed), angst, comfort fic, established relationship

Content Warnings: hints of depression, as well as brief mentions of murder.

Summary: acounter with a demon's memories have rattled your foundation, leaving you in the depths of your thoughts, and allowed time to process. Only Mitsuri's care can bring you back from the edge.

[Image is not my own, credit goes to the artist]

Just a small short because I truly believe that if you had a bad day (or week), Mitsuri would do draw a bath, wash your back, and untangle your hair. 🌸

The mission had hung heavily on you; it was not that the demon itself was challenging, nor that it was particularly difficult opponent. In fact, its demon art had yet to properly develop, likely a young fiend, new to the night. It hadn’t seemed adapted to its own body and its unique movements, what less able to utilize its ability. No, in terms of the scurry itself, the battle if it could even be referred to as such didn’t even last a minute, but it was the memories that unfolded.

 The depth of slice through the neck, one precise and effortless. Well formed, and insured no unnecessary suffering, the side of your breathing technique that had brought you pride. Merciful, and quick. Your breathing had relied on speed and precision, and required no strength. Tiger Lily breathing had been a beautiful form, one derived from Buddhist beliefs. Often, there was relief upon finishing the mission. The memories, the sorrow that followed the demon as the passed on. Often times remorseful, other times confused as a small child, some even felt abandoned by the fates. The memories in a since, offered closure, and comprehension. How their lives had unfolded, their ends, the paths they had walked to become a sinister shadow in the night, abandoned children, scorned love, hunger, disease, so many routes could lead to their fates. All desperate to cling to life, the frays of a existence they had never truly experienced, but this one… this one was different. Recollections like a calm stream that appeared peaceful, and gentle, hidden depths of passages and deadly currents. Drowning in memories of peace, a small child loved by parents. Well, and strong, playful amongst peers. Adjusted, and embracing, they liked to study. Released learning new things about the form, a doctor? No, no, if only the medical pursuit had been in such sacrifice. Small animals, rats that had wandered in from the field in winter, dogs desperate for affection, a toddler displaced from its parents, all… dissected. For curiosity. Amusement. Memories of peaceful façade, a partner, and children, normal. They had appeared so normal to outsiders, but the night their partner had wandered too far, followed them into the dark, to meet the same fate as pass victims. Some morbid curiosity that drove them into the depths, tested the rotation of joints, of muscles. Peeled back layers and layers of life, without a single remorse, and when met with your blade, the only parting regret it had confessed… was that it would never know what it would be like to fillet your complexion, nor determine how it was your body could move in a way that was foreign to its comprehension. The divulgence left you achy, nauseous. Trembling in your skin, as though a husk of chills up your spine that would never settle. Like a curse that you had been burdened with, clung to your back as you recounted the details to Ubuyashiki. The ill-ease clear on his features, formed at his brow. The delicate way he regarded, a knowing gaze one serene, and comforting. Allowed time off, the reassurance that you could take the time you needed to digest your experience, but in your parting, be left you with the advice that while the Demon Slayer Corps existed to eradicate demons, there are creatures in the flesh that appear as human as him and you.

The news of your league of absence had Mitsuri upon her arrival. The pass week spent dedicated to an objective of her own, her unique physical strength having met its necessity upon the mountains to retrieve a few mizunoto. In their desperation to survive an encounter, had caused a cave in, a decision that had effectively trapped the demon deeper in the cavern, and unintentionally themselves as a casualty. The arrival of their Kasugai Crows, clearly distressed, and demanding aide was their only saving grace. She had been dispatched immediately alongside a few kakushi members to offer support, medical assistance, and in severe cases, transport them to the Butterfly Estate. All in all, it had taken her some time to sort everything out. The travel, ensuring everyone had been retrieved as well as checking in on their wellbeing, she hadn’t the opportunity to return home, nor contact you. Updated only on your circumstances upon by the concerned kakushi who had grown fond of you, others merely only averting her gaze, and the occasional few whisperings amongst themselves. Ubuyashiki having provided her with what details he could, the melancholy smile that he had worn. Gentle, and concerned, he had complimented your gentle nature. This experience was necessary for you, he had known that--- the Love Hashira had as well, and yet, the unknowing of how you would come out of such a shattering encounter, was heavy.

                She had found you on the tatami mat, your hair matted in odd forms. Eyes weary, and down casted. Averted, and struggling to meet her gaze, nor those of the servants of the Kanroji mansion that inquired about her wellbeing. The folds of your kimono disheveled, half put on, the small slips revealing that it had not been properly secured. Likely forced on by one of the servants who had attempted to care for you in the Love Hashira’s wake. Complexion drained, eyes that appeared sunken in, and colored with lack of sleep. Gaunt, the steady of your breathing the only comfort she had, the reassurance that you were still living despite your appearance. Cheek pressed against the tatami mat, eyes that neither responded, nor traced the lining of the floor. Unresponsive to the way she ahd kentl over you, traced your cheek, pushed back your bangs. Delicately patted your hair, devoid of reaction. Heavy, the caretakers of her home having accompanied her, informing Mitsuri of how long you had laid there. The worry that perhaps, you were waiting for her causing a lump in her throat. The knowledge you had stayed in this state for a quite some time, often returning escorted back by the support of others, heavy, and tired. Exhaustion, beckoning you to long naps regardless of the day, meals that had been refused time after time. Nutrients only sustained by those that had pushed and prodded, refused to leave you be until you had swallowed at least one bite, loyal to their master. Aware the despair Mitsuri would face upon her arrival. The press of her forehead against yours, the pressure eliciting the smallest waver of your eyelashes. The dirt of prior days, likely remainders of your encounter in the field. The realization burdening her heart, weighing heavily and dropping her heart as she struggled to breathe. The tears that threatened to fall as the comprehension settled into her heart. The small in breath rattling your bones, the clear embarrassment that crossed your features as your arms tucked against your sides, all too aware how long it had been since you had bathed. Shame that pillowed across your features, drawing inwards. Recoiling within yourself, protective and humiliated at your state. Threatened to break the Love Hashira, her hand pulling back to offer reassurance. All too aware that you did not wish for her to see you this way, for her to touch her as she had. To know you this way.

                Mitsuri’s eyebrows met firmly, the pout of her lips as she nodded to herself. Turning and peeking over shoulder. The catch of cherry blossomed kissed hair that gave way to jade that caught the air as she did so. Her voice, warm and soothing as she took command of her household. Servants that felt her affections, and understood their assignments. The life she captivated, pressed into the home. Warm, and direct, the stipulation they desperately needed. Scurrying in different directions, tossing decorum to the side as they set to work. Two members quick on their feet, headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, the detailed account their Lady Kanroji had given their guide to ensure your favorite meal was produced properly. Three members sent to the storage building, instructed to secure heavy blankets that would typically be reserved for the winter months. The weight, she had expressed, you would need the extra weight, the pressure likely to provide some much-needed comfort. One to summon a fresh kimono for you, informed of your favorite scent to mask upon the fabric in the hopes it would be soothing to your senses. To warm your body in a way that she could not, but prayed it would offer all the incentive you may need. The remainder, left to gather the necessary materials to construct a bath. Imparting details of your favorite color, of bath scents that she had stored away—although it shamed her to admit that she had intended their use for a different use, Mitsuri did not hesitate to utilize them now. Why wait for a special night, when you needed her now.

You needed her.

The water was warmed. Drawn against bubbles that filled the bath, the stray floating to the ceiling. The bucket of water before you. Arms tucked shyly to your sides, doing your best to cover your form as you sat awkwardly on the stool. Too worn from your days, heart far heavier than you could endure. The abundance of sleep had not account for the malnourishment that was beginning to occur within your body. The servants easily spiriting you away to the bath. Mitsuri’s warm hands, delicate as she regarded you. Her words soothing as a prayer, informative as she whispered knowledge to you. Dared to scrub at the intrusive thoughts. The distant worries of human life. If mercy was possible, of what monstrosities lurked beneath the surface. If you were the same. At times, Mitsuri expressed what it was she was doing as she untied the knot at your waste, slipped the kimono from your shoulders. The sweet whispers, one of warm and reassurance. Fumbling to form words, any words that would reassure you of her devotion as she sat you the stool. Your back to her, your eyes left to stare at the wood paneling of the room. Warm scents that clung to your nose. The child the demon had claimed in life, the small dog. The press of a soft bath, nurturing and caringly pressed to your sides. The splash of the bucket, Mitsuri’s hands wringing excess water as she rolled the cloth over your shoulders, scrubbed your back. Whispered soothing words of reassurance. Stilled herself to remove any proof of the past few days from your features. To care for you in your neglect. Curiosity, how could such curiosity have been born? How could, how could another human do such a thing to another? Love, she loved you with everything she had, and as only the way the Love Hashira could, wanted to prove it in every aspect of the word. The embarrassment of your state, as your head pressed against your shoulder, leaned forward. Wanting nothing more to hide from her embrace. Their partner. Their devoted. Someone who had shared their life. With a monster. The touch of her fingers against your hair. Warm Safe. Home. Their partner had thought they were safe… that they were loved too. The lather of soap against your hair, delicately folding over matted tangle. Sacrifice of self, far too willing to give of herself to care for you. Tender as the grazes of her hair against her scalp. They had looked for them, cried out for them in the night. Cared for them when they wandered. The water comforting, breathing life in you that you had forgotten. Encouraged into the bath. Knees pressed to your chest as you breathed in the familiar scents. Displaced romantic, the distant memories of bath salts used in intimate moments, touched across your memories. They tore their partner up. Dissected them. Curiosity? H-How? Warm embraces, and tight hugs. Life, life that was warm. That was real. That cared. That sacrificed. The way Mitsuri’s fingers cautiously worked at the knots in your hair. Unweaving strand after strand, offering no hint of frustration.  Their child. CHILD. Their own blood, loved and cared for. Raised and nurtured. Limb from limb. Never revealing a shred of disappointment, or disgust. The smile tender as you dared to peek over your shoulder at her. The bashful shade of pink as the touch of her cheeks, willing herself to ignore how the fettering of her fingers across your skin captivated her hearts. Pretended it did not affect her in such a way as she dedicated herself to caring for you. The touch of lavish stones in her heart braided tightly and secured into a bun, the sleeves of her kimono drawn to work. The birth mark dots under her large eyes, all the beauty of a green hydrangea and as warm as spring, reflected across the bath water. Drifting only to meet your eyes, the smile she offered you, verification of her devotion.

                Time. Time would heal this wound, of your heart; she knew this as true as the sky and as real as the love she held for you. As did you, time would sooth the memories. Fade the nausea in your stomach. Her touch comforting, hushing your anxiety. The hush whisper of concern, if perhaps there were love in the world, laid to rest under her fingertips. Disturbing the dark thoughts that held you captivated. Disrupting their presence, anchoring her love to your form. Whispering reassurance of lovers, of safety, of presence of a home. In the world. Yes, time would heal the wounds her affections could not touch. The solidify of your bond, clear as the bubbles that warmed your skin, danced scents across your soul The love and dedication tender and soothing across your scalp as she worked wordlessly to care for your hair. Yes, time would heal this wound, and perhaps was the only thing that could ever hope to dare, but the touch of her fingers against your scalp. The soft hum of a song you did not know as you leaned into her touch. Warmth memories of love, of safetydaring to breathe lief back into your bones. The weight of your heart still heavy, embraced by love, and for once you could not help but wonder… if that was okay. To be loved. To be cared for. To be accepted in the dredge of your soul, to have someone who cared enough. To know you as you are, in the deeps of shame you dared not to reveal to another. Perhaps, perhaps this was proof enough of mercy. Of love. Something as simple, as the love of a hum, and the comfort of your bones as you breathed in her touch. Left only to savor the delicate weave of your hair free from neglect, and enfolded in love. Accepted. Treasured.

                Loved.

                Safe.

                Human.

[nobodyssoldier]

abigail  'abi'  wood's  story  began  with  a  romance  that  scandalized  post-war  britain  —  oliver  wood,  the  celebrated  keeper  whose  passion  for  quidditch  was  legendary,  falling  irrevocably  in  love  with  marcus  flint,  former  slytherin  captain  and  heir  to  the flint name.  they  met  again  at  a  professional  match,  oliver  playing  for  puddlemere  united,  marcus  newly  signed  to  the  falmouth  falcons.  what  started  as  fierce  rivalry  on  the  pitch  evolved  into  something  deeper,  more  complex.  their  relationship  played  out  in  newspaper  headlines and vicious rumors.  the  prodigal  son  of  the  flint  family,  dating  a  blood  traitor?  oliver  wood,  throwing  away  his  rising  star  status  for  a  former  death  eater's  child?  but  they  weathered  the  storm  of  public  opinion  with  the  same  determination  they'd  once  brought  to  quidditch  rivalry. 

their  marriage  blazed  bright  but  brief,  six  years  of  fierce  joy  before  marcus  abandoned his new family to return to pureblood society.  perhaps  it  was  the  constant  pressure  from  his  family.  perhaps  the  weight  of  defying  his  upbringing  simply  became  too  heavy  to  bear.  the  end  came  not  with  a  bang  but  with  a  letter,  left  on  their  kitchen  table  one  morning  while  oliver  was  at  practice. abi  and  her  twin  brother,  elliot,  were  barely  five  when  their  world  split  in  two,  too  young  to  fully  understand  but  old  enough  to  feel  its weight.  the  prophet  ran  headlines  for  weeks:  "FLINT  HEIR  ABANDONS  FAMILY"  and  “WOOD-FLINT  MARRIAGE  DISSOLVES”  oliver  responded  by  pouring  himself  into  both  parenting  and  quidditch  with  equal  fervor.  he  took  a  coaching  position  with  puddlemere's  reserve  team  to  maintain  more  regular  hours  and  never  missed  a  single  one  of  his  children's  milestone  moments.  he  was  determined  that  his  children  would  never  question  their  place  in  his  heart.

when  abi  arrived  at  hogwarts  years  later,  oliver's  reputation  preceded  her.  but  so  did  the  shadow  of  marcus's  choices.  her  dark  hair  marked  her  as  marcus's  daughter,  though  she  carried  herself  with  oliver's  quiet  confidence.  when  the  sorting  hat  touched  her  head,  the  great  hall  held  its  breath,  but  the  hat  didn't  hesitate  before  crying  "ravenclaw!"  abi  found  her  true  home  among  the  eagles.  there,  in  the  tower  where  creativity  and  ingenuity  reigned,  her  quiet  intensity  and  innovative  spirit  flourished.  abi  absorbed  knowledge  with  fierce  selectivity.  her  obsessions,  when  they  took  hold,  burned  bright  and  deep  —  she  cared  not  for  subjects  that  failed  to  ignite  her  passion,  but  those  that  did  consumed  her  completely.  a  fiend  for  magical  theory  and  application,  she  became  known  among  the  knights  as  their  most  innovative  spell  inventor,  crafting  both  wicked  curses  and  potent  defense  charms.

when  the  montrose  magpies'  scout  approached  her  during  her  first  year  at  hogwarts  university,  abi  knew  her  path  would  not  be  a  simple  one.  the  scout  had  watched  her  captain  ravenclaw  through  three  undefeated  seasons.  "once  in  a  generation  talent,"  she'd  said,  pushing  a  contract  across  the  table  in  the  three  broomsticks.  "we  can  work  around  your  studies."  but  abi  understood  the  reality  behind  those  words  —  the  brutal  training  schedules,  the  constant  travel,  the  impossible  balance  between  pitch  and  classroom.  she  found  herself  in  headmaster  longbottom's  office  late  one  night,  torn  between  her  two  passions.  he  opened  a  drawer  and  pulled  out  a  small  hourglass  on  a  delicate  chain.

headmaster  longbottom's  gift  of  a  time  turner  came  with  grave  warnings  about  its  use,  but  abi  approached  it  with  the  same  methodical  precision  she  brought  to  everything  else.  she  crafted  elaborate  schedules  that  allowed  her  to  attend  morning  practices  and  afternoon  lectures  simultaneously,  to  spend  evenings  in  both  the  library  and  the  knights'  headquarters,  working  towards  a  bright  future  that  would  never  come  to  pass.  she  wore  that  time  turner  around  her  neck  until  the  end,  though  she  never  used  it  that  fatal  day  in  the  dungeons.  after  her  death,  the  device  was  found  shattered,  its  sands  scattered  across  the  floor  like  fallen  stars.  the  knights  would  bury  it  with  her.

she  had  her  father  oliver's  tendency  to  get  lost  in  strategic  planning,  often  filling  entire  notebooks  with  quidditch  plays  and  spell  modifications.  her  roommates  would  find  these  notebooks  everywhere:  under  her  pillow,  in  the  dormitory  bathroom,  tucked  between  textbooks.  she  claimed  her  best  ideas  came  at  random  moments.  throughout  the  years,  she  developed  her  own  personal  shorthand,  making  her  notes  nearly  impossible  for  others  to  decipher.

she  inherited  both  her  fathers'  competitiveness  but  channeled  it  differently.  where  they  had  been  openly  aggressive  on  the  pitch,  she  was  calculating  and  precise,  preferring  to  outsmart  her  opponents.  determined  to  play  professionally  from  an  early  age,  abi  knew  the  ins  and  outs  of  every  position.  she  could  recite  the  strengths  and  weaknesses  of  every  professional  player  in  the  league  and  had  studied  recordings  of  matches  dating  back  decades.  during  practice,  she  would  often  switch  positions  with  her  teammates,  believing  that  understanding  every  role  was  key  to  being  a  better  captain.

in  her  section  of  the  ravenclaw  dormitory,  she  had  a  "wall  of  impossibilities,"  a  collection  of  supposedly  impossible  magical  theories  that  she  was  determined  to  prove  wrong.  the  wall  was  a  complex  web  of  parchment  scraps,  theoretical  diagrams,  and  color-coded  strings  connecting  related  concepts.  after  her  death,  several  of  her  theoretical  solutions  were  discovered  by  the  knights  to  be  viable.  the vast majority of her  work is kept  in  the  room  of  requirement as the knights work to properly develop her research.

her  collection  of  quidditch  goggles  became  a  timeline  of  her  career.  each  pair  was  meticulously  preserved,  with  details  about  the  specific  breakthrough  or  match  they  represented.  the  last  pair  she  wore,  still  hanging  in  the  ravenclaw  changing  room,  bears  the  simple  inscription  "for  the  love  of  the  game."  her  locker  remains  untouched,  her  last  set  of  robes  still  hanging  inside,  her  strategy  notes  still  pinned  to  the  door. her firebolt 7000 broom, modified with several charms and enhancements by abi herself, has been permanently retired.

upon  abi's  death,  her  younger  brother,  callum,  left  the  erinyes  to  rejoin  the  knights.  callum's  relationship  with  his  older  brother,  elliot,  remains  strained from callum's initial departure. unbeknownst to the remaining woods, elliot fell to the dark side years ago, acting as a spy and informant for the wraiths.