#f/o :: gil

[royaltea000]

pruame dynamic

[aiktad]

🍋🥥🍅🫛 for the ask game? (@spacestationstorybook)

🍋 - if your f/o could change one thing about themselves, what would they change and why?

i feel like kian has a Lot of regrets about the way his life went and the fact that he doesn't live up to be the cool world famous band guy everyone else thinks he is. i think he'd either change the fact that he lied to his friends to protect the image they had of him, or to dream bigger he'd actually fit the narrative that other people see him through. rockstar kian you are so important and real 2 me ...

gillion has a lot of things he would want to change; that's why he collects random titles, and it's a haha funny joke in the fandom but there are moments that make you realise he literally does not know who he is without these titles. which is sad!! and i love him!! but honestly deep down i think he would change the fact that he has chronic Chosen One Syndrome. get my boy out of the trenches. let him be a normal fish guy instead of a fish guy with the weight of everyone's sins on his shoulders please

🥥 - what hobbies does your f/o have? is there any hobby they would like to get into that they haven't tried out yet? what is it?

kian plays d&d and guitar ofc. i found the model of his guitar in canon and it almost made me stop hating on V-shaped guitars! almost. my s/i is really into cardistry because i only started out recently and i project onto him by making him really good at it – but i'd like to think kian would see my s/i doing cardistry and be like "lmao nerd imagine having an entire hobby revolved around throwing playing cards.... it's so cool Can you teach me please please please please please"

gillion plays a lot of chess! he's the real nerd of the diabolicule. i just know a tabletop gaming store hates to see my s/i and gillion coming. he'd engage with frogtopus racing more if it was a thing outside of, like, in-universe casinos. he's also a tech bro in my heart... babygirl your fuckass conch shell phone autism has captivated me

🍅 - if your f/o could buy you any gift in the world, whether it exists or not, what would they buy you? or, if they could make you something, what would it be?

holy shit you know those guitar pick flowers? kian. absolutely kian. he'd make a bouqet of them. godddd now i want to make some so i can be really gay ab it.... i might have some old guitar strings somewhere and i can find a dirt cheap pack of picks

gillion would collect shells and make those little shell & sea glass baskets you see at beach gift shops. ollie would teach him how to hand weave the baskets and all :')

they're both very sentimental guys tbh. kian leans slightly more towards "i'll buy you expensive shit bbg" than gil does but both of them would cry over a £3 mixtape of songs that make me think of them

🫛 - how does your f/o feel about pet names or nicknames? do they like them? hate them? what are their favorites and least favorites to be called and to use?

kian and my bitb s/i use them a LOT but 1000% ironically. they're so evil about it. they strive to make everyone around them uncomfortable. good morning my sweet baby darling cupcake prince. everyone within a 1000 mile radius instantly gets bugged

gillion the type of guy to make up nicknames in primordial and s/i is like "babygirl i have no idea what you're saying but i'm grinning like an idiot anyway"

[dreamofroses-ships]

It's such a crime

That THIS CG

IS ONLY IN THE FUCKING BAD ENDING

[hypothesiscosmos]

FGO JP Summer 2023 event slight spoilers

Ozy namedropping Ayaka here...I swear to god, if it's not a lead up to the next Ordeal Call (Tokyo being the location ffs) and Prototype finally being free from the abyss, I'll genuinely be sad, hghghgh

[judesmoonbeauty]

Damn, it’s hurts.

Sometimes life hurts too much 🥹

[currentfandomkick]

Hey so, masterlist here pt 4 of who knows how long. Angst below.

Danny was going to die. Again.

Thats the only answer to being pulled toward the lake.

“Get away from my son spook!”

The shot was far off. At least Dad tried. so did last dad. Still failed. PressureNoAirwhywhywhy

Taco clung harder and may as well be in his bones as he was flung through the air in the ectopus’ grasp.

Mom tried, but Topo pulled him into the ground. And kept going.

pressure-thickwater-noair. Noairnoairnoair.

He was thrashing. Taco didnt care. Only that it had him.

He Hates Taco, and will devour many in retribution. Later. When he gets out and is /saaaafe/

He thinks(?) they made it to the lake. He. He stopped processing things underground with the no breathing problem.

And began breathing wrongWrongWRONG

His lungs were not doing that for him, and his neck was working different and he /hatehatehated/ it.

Someone(Val) got a good shot in and Taco let him go.

His eyes Burned Green and he. Hey was floating in the air heaving water out of his lungs and shaking.

Red rubbed his back and didn’t ask about the green eyes.

“Danny, you good in there?”

“M, mayb, be.” He took a a few more breaths, letting Red drive him somewhere else.

“So, contamination got worse? Or are the eyes new?”

He could only manage a broken chuckle. “The g, gils are n, new. S, so was the t,tail.”

Val nodded in her gear and dropped him off to homesafecaredloved Mom and Dad.

“Danny, are you okay?”

Danny tried to smile. It came out wrong.

“Oh my baby,” Mom continued as she moved Danny about. “What happened?”

“Ph,Phantom g,got me o,out,” danny began. “C,can we go home?”

His parents nodded. “C,can i hav(e),ve one of,f the F,Fenton f,force f,fields?”

“Of course champ, we’re gonna keep you that spook as far from you as possible.”

Danny leaned against his parents. He just, he had gils. He may be turning into a merman or something.

He just wants his mom and dad. Is that too much?

Other parts here.

Tags @skulld3mort-1fan @theizzyof3malec3 @brattysleepyreader @sebas-nights @elidaweirdotaku0520 @bianca-hooks123 @the-autistic-spider @laurcad123

[wordbunch]

Time to say a handful of things abt s02 finale!!!

under the cut so you can avoid it! :)

However I am very much looking forward to reading everyones comments opinions feelings etc ♡

Did I expect to cry over the death of freaking king durin in the first 0.3 minutes??? That scene was so incredibly well done and I was like omg am I glad to be witnessing this for the first time🥹😭 yes I'm still pissed I couldn't see LOTR in cinemas cause I was still in freaking diapers

NAAARSILLLLLLLL narsil our beloved, I was squealing, yes OUT LOUD. narsil bbygirl you will always be famous 💅🏻 elendil go slay

I know yall pay him dust but ISILDUR I always love to see him and I love him and theo being the resident trouble brothers duo (its giving merry and pippin but Doomed). Sorry not sorry but yall moved on too fast (I DIDNT!) from the fact he feels guilty for his moms death. pls i am HUGGING HIM! his doe eyes I am deceased. pls I just want to stare at his face for eternity. MY PERSONAL HEADCANON WAS CONFIRMED 😩💦 that boy kisses like he is STARVEDDDD

[Redacted thoughts here]

Stranger yes we knew he was gonna be gandalf but. I love a name drop. I love Tom and I love choosing friendship over power and I love the staff and I love everything . They're giving me my childhood dreamlike feeling and I am so grateful I get to see a glimpse of that story 🥹💛

So many SPEECHES foreshadowing SO MANY THINGS. I am obsessed. The absolute cruelty of celebrimbors death and the death of his works....the one SINGLE TEAR on annatars face....dare I say peak p o e t I c cinema.

Where do I even begin with HALADRIEL ✨️✨️✨️ charlie the lord of acting and just like. in his eyes you can see everything and more. I need to write a dissertation on their duel istg

The way he didnt hesitate to absolutely PURR "GALADRRRIEL" every. single. time. [Redacted thoughts]

I WOULD HAVE PLACED A CROWN ON YOUR HEAD.

do you want me to like die?????

I SEE YOU.

yes actually they do want me to die.

HUMAN HALBRAND???

And RIP to me indeed.

[Ultra redacted thoughts]

I audibly WHIMPERED. sweet lord i was like My poor babygirl has to endure this manipulation 😩😩😩😩 he stooped so low and I was so here for it but girl i would have F O L D E D 😔✊🏻

Then galadriel on galadriel violence??? The only thing better than galadriel TWO galadriels actually.

but then.

the elrond and rivendell of it all. rob aramayo has never looked more gorgeous than when he took nenya to heal Gal. WE GET TO SEE HEALER ELROND GROWING INTO HIMSELF WITH OUR OWN EYES!!!! you don't UNDERSTAND i spent 20 YEARS dreaming of rivendell and now I get to see it coming to be!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭💚💚💚💚 the way that you can see gears turning in his head as he takes the ring. the camerawork ate and devoured i fear - with your own eyes you can see him growing. developing. like yes I am feeling more ready to take charge of some things. what if I CAN do it. what if I CAN make so many things and people so much better????

and u will babyboy 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Do i even need to add i had full body chills at the scene of elrond,gil,galadriel and arondir!!!!!!! on the cliff!!!!!!

BITCH THE SUN STILL RISES!!!!! Pity CAN defeat sauron!!! friendship and light DO WIN over darkness!!!! The tolkienism of it all. i will rewatch a hundred times and then some.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

📜 Your Time Lord Name

The Elective Semantectomy is where a Time Lord's true name can be removed from history and replaced with a title. The Eleventh Doctor helpfully made a quick guide for newbies choosing their Time Lord name.

First, take the first letter of your first name to find your title:

A - F = Professor

G - L = The

M - R = Lord

S - Z = Grand

And take the first letter of your surname to find your main Time Lord name:

A = Venturer

B = Saint

C = Winner

D = Explorer

E = Shield

F = Infinite

G = Challenger

H = Meteor

I = Protector

J = Vortron

K = Athlete

L = Zenarck

M = Dimensioneer

N = Golven

O = Immortal

P = Dynamo

Q = Shadow

R = Pioneer

S = Force

T = Champion

U = Voyager

V = Typhoon

W = Dextive

X = Moorid

Y = Cosmos

Z = Defender

(How to be a Time Lord)

Whoniverse Facts for Friday by GIL

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[oneiroy]

Ryssrael Waenwyn

B A S I C S

Name: Ryssrael Waenwyn

Nicknames: Ryss (for all her friends), and a few pet names for Fornax only (like sunshine or captain)

Age: 26-32 (ARR>EW)

Nameday: 1st Sun of the 5th Astral Moon

Race: Sea Wolf Roegadyn

Gender: Butch

Orientation: Bisexual

Profession: Warrior of Light (for non-WoL AU: either mercenary / freelancer or pirate)

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: Black, ranging from short to shaved, always messy (well, unless it's shaved. but still messy in spirit vjkfnvjsdf)

Eyes: Rich brown that almost looks reddish

Skin: Green pulling towards yellow (yes technically green... the shaders never do it justice though. i need to come up with a fix that doesn't mess the rest of the coloring)

Tattoos/scars: A wide variety of scars all over her body, with a higher concentration on her left arm. A small red tattoo under her right eye.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unnamed sea wolves, former dockworkers, who she is not in contact with anymore. Probably still alive somewhere in Limsa.

Siblings: She would say that the friends she grew up with are her siblings. Swynfyr, Servan and R'osen, three adoptive brothers.

Grandparents: I didn't get that far tbh

In-laws and Other: Uhhh yeah idk. Most of her blood family isn't that relevant to her current story tbh. But! Other, spouse: Fornax :)

Pets: No pets, she doesn't feel like her lifestyle is compatible with that.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Fighting with pole and axe-based weapons of all kinds. She is very athletic and maintains her body as strong as it can be. She also pulls from her inner rage, or from the strength Midgardsormr grants her, depending on the situation.

Hobbies: Hiking, swimming, fishing, training. Cooking, but mostly eating good foods.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Her contagious confidence

Most Negative Trait: Her impulsiveness paired with the fact that she's quick to anger

L I K E S

Colors: Black, green, red

Smells: Ocean breeze, blood and metal, rain, broth

Textures: Worn leather, calloused hands, wood bleached by the sea and warmed by the sun

Drinks: Beer, rhum, water

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Sometimes but not often, only if offered.

Drinks: Often in good company. She can drink a lot before being visibly affected by it.

Drugs: Recreationally but not regularly

Mount Issuance: She still has her black chocobo! But when it's not conveniently around, she often goes on foot or hitch a ride.

Been Arrested: So many times when she was young. She stole a lot, and got in trouble for doing "jobs" for less than reputable folks. Now less, in part because she's less struggling with gil, but also in part because she got better at it.

Tagged by: @hazelkjt, thanks!

Tagging: @elliewiltarwyn, @viiioca, @necro-man-sir, @chadhunkler, @fantasmagoriam, @elf-simp, @sealrock, and you if you want to do it!

[mist-touchedxiv]

Chapter 1

A warm wind blew across the plain, a welcome touch in the desert of Thanalan. However, it didn't provide any relief to the Hyur man who was being harassed by a group of bandits.

A solid kick to his stomach caused him to gasp as the wind was driven from his lungs.

"Ye gotta lotta nerve taking a drink from OUR well, scum," purred the cruel Mi'qote woman perched on the stone lip of the well in question. The rag tag group of intimidating men and women growled in agreement. A couple of bandits roughly picked up the man by each arm, one forcefully raised his chin so he could look the leader in the eyes.

"P-please..." the man wheezed weakly as the hot dry air began to fill his lungs again. "Th-this... well is the closest.... water source.... f-for my village... We don't have much-"

One of the bandits started to dramatically boo-hoo, a poor mummer's farce of the man's dilemma.

"Oy! I keep telling ye, ye need to do comedy," squawked another bandits delightedly, the others roared with laughter in agreement.

The bandit leader lazily stretched and crossed her legs on her perch. "Just consider us members of the community who are guarding the well. We have to make our vittles too. How about... 10,000 gil a moon? We'll also take other goods and sundries if you can't afford the coin."

"Th-that's impossible," sputtered the Hyur man. "We're only a small mining town! W-we can't meet that deman-" Stars exploded across the man's vision as the Mi'qote leader slapped him across the face.

As the pain and stars receded, the Hyur numbly noticed something strange behind the bandits. The sound of a loud slurp startled the leader who hopped with incredible alacrity off the well wall with a hiss. Somehow a tall man dressed in blue Doman clothing in a large straw hat had managed to approach the group unseen in the open wasteland. The assembled group couldn't help but stare nonplussed as the stranger took another deep slurp of the cool water from the well. Next to him, a thin long package wrapped in canvas rested against the well.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the air, punctuated only by the breeze and the squeaking of the windmill that drew the life-giving water in the well. And the stranger's noisy drinking.

"O-oy! Who the hells is this git," barked the wannabe mummer, breaking the silence after a long beat. The gang's attention was now on the newcomer and they were feeling very tense.

The stranger wiped ran his thumb along his stubbly beard as he let out a satisfied sigh. He nudged up the hat and considered them with bright blue eyes. "Just thirsty," came the reply, his voice pleasant with an accent unfamiliar in Eorzea.

"You gotta pay a toll to use OUR well," growled a scarred Elezen. "Ye would do well not to end up like this unfortunate scum." He lashed out with his foot at the man they'd been bullying but found naught but air as he had crawled away during the silence.

The stranger in blue paid them no heed as he filled up a water skin calmly. A particularly rough looking Hrothgar stomped over to him. "Ye got dust in your ears," he roared as he reached a huge hand over to grab the stranger's hat. "I'll fi-" There was a sharp crack as the stranger suddenly lashed out with inhuman speed and drove the end of the wrapped package into the throat of the Hrothgar who let out a coughing mew as he fell over, his hand taking the hat with him to reveal a mane of black hair with azure streaks and two long leoprine ears. The wrapping fell from the package to reveal what appeared to be a Garlean gunblade sheathed, but the blade was slightly shorter and appeared to be missing the barrel.

"Hells... it's a Viera male..." breathed the gang leader as the rarity of such a pretty creature registered with her. He had to be worth something. A lot of somethings. Possibly more than their water scheme. To their credit, the rest of the gang seemed to have already come to the same realization and drew their weapons and began to surround the blue stranger.

The Viera put his hand on the hilt of his blade, readying himself. "Trust me... it's not worth it," he said quietly, sensing their intentions. "Walk away." The leader let out a harsh cackle as she nocked an arrow on her bow.

"Got ye dead to rights, now be a good pretty bunny and come with us," she purred, aiming to pin his foot. Didn't want to damage the goods too much.

The wind blew.

The wind mill creaked.

The villains brandished their weapons with unspoken threats of violence.

Crystalline blue eyes regarded their surroundings.

Suddenly, the wind died and the Mi'qote let the arrow loose.

Her aim was true, but the target was gone. In a flash of steel, the man had seemed to dance his way through the ring of bandits with the grace and power of a surging river. The Mi'qote blinked surprised, suddenly spinning around to find the Viera behind her.

She snarled "I got ye no-" She suddenly realized that her bow was no longer stringed, having been cut during the mad dance of the swordsman. With a definitive click as he fully sheathed his blade again, the ground shook slightly as the whole gang crumpled to the dirt. They were still breathing but were not having a good time.

Time seemed to standstill for eternity. Then the wind blew again and brought them back to the present.

".... Go," ordered the Viera and the gang complied, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Hier Encore III.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

[Hier Encore II.]

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), unhealthy relationships, manipulation o’clock, references to religion, mentions of starvation, some minor Hunter x Hunter spoilers, the reader has a panic attack, violence/gore, Hisoka showing up again sorry, minor character death, and stalking.

Word Count: 7k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez 

"She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

iii. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

This morning, as you opened your eyes, a throbbing migraine greeted you. The aftermath of a nightmare always brought forth such a wretched morning. The reason behind these intense headaches following a night of unsettling dreams remains elusive, yet their unwavering arrival each morning remains an undeniable truth.

Perhaps the throbbing in your head stemmed from those restless evenings when you ingested copious amounts of caffeine to ward off sleep and reduce the likelihood of haunting visions of your former abductor returning for you.

Or perhaps it was how you sometimes cried in your sleep during those nightmares, curled on your side to prevent Sebaste from seeing your tears. Or perhaps it was the fact that you always pretended you were fine the morning after, holding back a sea of tears, and eventually, the fear piled like some sort of karmic debt. Perhaps it was all of those things combined. It would make sense. You still don’t know the exact reason, though. You were only aware of one thing–a throbbing headache that seemed destined to accompany you throughout the entire day like an unwanted hitchhiker. At least it was the first of November now, you guess.

No children at your door until midnight to collect candy from you and Sebaste. Maybe it was the constant opening and closing of your door and your repeatedly saying “treat” to the children that caused your migraine, now that you think about it. This village had most of the kids and some adults trick or treating, amounting to almost twenty people knocking on your door at different times of the day, some multiple times a day, to ask you for candy that you will give them if you do not want to get tricked. After sunset, you just put a bucket of candy at your door and called it a day, not wanting any other disturbances for the night. After a few minutes of rubbing your eyes and yawning, you eventually encouraged yourself to get up. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, your head throbbing and bouncing around as you groaned.

As usual, the morning after a nightmare you had of Chrollo resulted in you not being able to undress and take a shower. You have tried a few times. Whenever you closed your eyes and had your shirt or dress above your head, about to take it off completely, you would feel a presence behind you. You would immediately cover yourself back up and quickly turn on the lights.

Every time after a nightmare about Chrollo, you would practically be reduced to being an eight-year-old again. Sebaste sleeping next to you was the only way you could calm down a bit. On days Sebaste was on trips or sleeping at a friend’s house or just traveling in general, you would take your pillow and your blankets to the couch in the living room to sleep there as that is where your brightest lamp was. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You mutter to yourself, splashing cold water on your face to become more awake. 

On nights Sebaste was gone, you would always fall into an irregular slumber where you would jolt yourself awake every time you heard that calm and collected voice enter your dreams. You never cried when Sebaste was there, you only cried when he wasn’t. Even though crying sometimes made you less likely to go back to sleep, you had to express your fear sometimes, as rare as those times were. 

“What doesn’t?” Because of your exhaustion, it took you a second to realize that voice was Sebastian’s. But as soon as you put the dots together, the corners of your mouth curled upward slightly. There he was, behind you, yawning with his hair ruffled and large spots of black makeup still around his eyes, smudged.

Your head feels slightly better already.

You walk up to him and kiss his cheek, some of his white face paint getting on your lips. It feels dry and bitter, but you don’t mind it. If anything, you find it sort of endearing. Sebaste was so tired and drunk from celebrating Halloween with his friends that he had forgotten to wipe off the cosmetics. 

He was hungover, groaning and massaging his temples.

You feel hungover too, all without a single drop of alcohol in your bloodstream.

He hugs you and puts his head on your shoulder, his still-worn skeleton costume smelling like chemicals and beer. Perhaps a rest day would be good for you two.

“Nothing.” You say as your arms wrap around him. “Don’t worry about it.”

*~*~*~*

Tears stream down your face as you struggle and fight to push yourself off of your captor’s lap. Your efforts seemed futile, however, as you simply were not strong enough to push him away. No matter how hard you try to break free, his grip on your wrists and legs is too tight to fight off. The only thing you could do was to try your best to wipe away your tears and snot with the sleeves of your gray hoodie, the only long-sleeved shirt you were allowed to wear. 

With a heavy heart, shaky breath, and even shakier hands you stop fighting. Chrollo pulls you closer to him, praising you with sickeningly sweet nothings.

Chrollo's smile is almost cruel as he gazes down at you, mockingly.

“You’re so good, aren’t you?” He coos, and you find yourself likening his tone to the creaking sound of a rusty door opening. 

“At what?” You mutter, your voice cracked.

"At pleasing me." He whispers, his mouth hovering close to your ear. "You're quite the siren, you know that? Those tears of yours look rather beautiful on your cheeks." With that he gives you a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just like the rest of you," Chrollo whispers. "Stunning."

Chrollo hears your cries, yet he does nothing to console you. To him, a wounded animal is nothing but an attractive sight. He continues to kiss and nuzzle your neck, whispering loving and yet cruel words in your ear. You can feel his body pressed up against your own, your movements limited by his strong arms.

"Your tears are delicious, darling." He mumbles. "Just like the rest of you."

Chrollo can feel how your body trembles against his own, and this only serves to stoke his desire even further. He enjoys these displays of pure, genuine emotion. He trails his fingers up your arms and to your face, slowly caressing your tears away from your cheeks. 

"I didn't think that someone as gorgeous and charming as you could be so adorable when she cries." He whispers. "It's like your entire personality changes."

Chrollo's eyes travel down to you once more, taking in your face and your body with a slow, predatory gaze. He traces a finger all along your collarbone before moving it slightly lower.

"Look at you," He whispers. "You're like a painting come to life. It should be no wonder that I wanted to steal you." 

With that, he plants a kiss on your cheek, his touch as light as a feather. His breath blows against your skin, making you shiver. Your cries are music to his ears. The sound of your genuine anguish is something he finds intoxicating.

"That's it, darling," Chrollo whispers, his voice becoming increasingly husky and deep as he continues to shower your neck with kisses. "I know you want this just as much as I do."

His arms tighten around you yet again, his grip almost painful.

You look at the clock above the television. There are twenty minutes left before you are placed back in those silk restraints. You don’t know whether this is a good or bad thing for you.

*~*~*~*

Your stomach is warm from having the pleasant, wholesome dinner Sebaste had made. Eggplant parmesan and lemon salmon with amaranth, kale, and garlic. Delicious. He claims that he is a bad cook and that you are better at this stuff than he is, but you think otherwise. You hum happily as you feel comforted.

For the first time, you truly feel safe and protected because of how well Sebaste treats you. He is kind and caring, the opposite of what his stepfather says about him. Your heart and mind are still filled with anxiety but you know that Hisoka will keep his word and not tell the Phantom Troupe of your location. He does not seem to be a liar, despite being many other things. That gives you a twisted sense of comfort, in a way. 

But you can’t help but think about Chrollo.

You remember the moment after the massacre. You remember everything.

Your emotions from that day are still alive in you. You feel the same terror, the same fear, the same horror when you remember being tied up, all alone in Chrollo's penthouse.

You can't help but think of those emotions again now, as you're in your bed, trying so desperately to sleep. You remember the shock you felt and the terror. You remember how you desperately begged Chrollo to let you go, but he just kept coming at you, so soft yet so cruel.

You try hard to not remember. It is best not to think about it.

No, it's something that you try very hard not to remember but you still do. You remember the time Chrollo kept touching you. When he spoke in that sickening way as if he cared for you. All those touches, the words from his foul mouth. You remembered the feeling of that day. The coldness of his touch. The cruelty of his words.

"I’m willing to wait." 

That sentence is stuck in your head.

You do your best to distract yourself from those terrible memories, but they keep haunting you.

No, you don't want to go that far back in your memories, your mind tries to stop you. You don't want to remember those days.

When you think of the ways you kept seducing Chrollo to lower his guard, you feel disgusted.

You try to forget it.

You try to make those memories go away.

But they won't leave you alone.

You focus on them. Those memories, those feelings.

For some reason, you can't get them out of your mind.

You remember Chrollo's gifts, the way he slid clothes and jewelry onto your body like another chain. The bribes. The touches.

The fear, the helplessness of not being able to do anything to stop him. Of being forced to do what he wanted you to do. That desperate feeling of wanting to do anything if it means that you will escape.

You try to make that feeling go away, but it keeps following you. It keeps haunting you as if it is trying to punish you.

It's hard to forget those experiences.

It's hard to forget those memories.

It’s hard to forget Chrollo.

You don't want to think about them. But you can't help it.

The horror, the disgust, the helplessness.

A flashback washes over you.

It takes you to those days.

The gifts.

The touches.

The helplessness. The pain.

I want to go home.

That is what you wanted most and still do.

You feel yourself there again, in that horrible place.

Your body is shaking. The memories wash over you.

You see Chrollo's face, and you feel sickened.

The flashback hits your mind, and you feel completely alone, overwhelmed with fear and sadness.

You want to forget, but you can't. The memories are still there, haunting you.

You close your eyes. You feel yourself transported back to those days. You feel the cold shackles of the chains that bind your hands together. You feel a hand squeeze your inner thigh. You look up and you see Chrollo smiling at you. You feel like you'll go insane. You feel scared beyond belief. Chrollo's sick smile and his dark eyes, staring right back at you. You start crying. You scream in fear and despair. It's a nightmare. It's a horrible nightmare. You wish you could forget.

"Someone help me!” You scream.

Nobody can hear you.

It's like you're in a bubble, and the world around you doesn't exist. It feels like you're alone in here, and you can't get out of this flashback. You're reliving the nightmare in your head, and you can't stop it. The flashback continues.

"I’m willing to wait," Chrollo mocks you, saying those same words he said those days.

You see him there, in your mind. His eyes, his smile, staring back at you. Your heart is filled with fear, and you close your eyes and scream. You want it to stop. You don't want to see the cruel and mocking face of Chrollo, those words from his mouth.

You close your eyes and scream.

All your fears, all your anger, all your hatred. It's like being back in that hell, once again. You feel completely helpless, and you just want to get out of this nightmare. But you can't stop it. It's in your head.

The memories feel so real. The cruel words, the fear, the loneliness. The gifts and the shackles and the threats. It's like being back in that room again. It's like nothing around you is real.

The flashback continues, and your mind takes you deeper and deeper into the darkness, into the nightmare. Your breath is shaking, and your face is covered in cold sweat. Your heart is racing in your chest.

"I’m willing to wait," Chrollo says, once again.

Your eyes are closed, and you curl up into a ball.

You feel those cold shackles on your legs, those cold chains on your arms.

You hear Chrollo's mocking and cruel voice. You see his face, smiling at you. You see him in your mind, watching you. Taunting you. You can't even see Sebaste or the room, because it feels like everything is gone, and you're back there. It's like going back to that day again.

The flashback continues, taking you to the darkest corners of your mind. You feel the silk blankets covering your legs. The tears of despair, the frustration of being unable to do anything else. You hear the cruelty of his words, and you see his mocking smile. You feel alone, trapped in your mind. You can't see anything else, the world around you is gone. You're in a dark room with him. Just a little girl, at the mercy of a monster.

The memory continues to haunt you. You're trapped in it, and you can't get out. You see everything around you as if it's real. You feel the cold handcuffs and the velvet restraints. You feel the fear, the desperation. The helplessness of being completely under his control. You hear his cruel voice, his words mocking you. You see him there, smiling at you in your mind. You're trapped in his sick reality, and you don't know if you'll ever escape.

"I’m willing to wait," he says.

He's mocking you again.

You try to forget every memory of him, every memory of what he did to you. But you can't. Your mind won't let you forget, and that's the worst part. These memories are stuck in your mind, and you don't know if you'll ever forget them.

You try to block them out, and you scream again.

You scream for someone to help you. You scream for anyone to come and save you, but no one hears you.

Suddenly you hear Sebastian's voice. He's here with you.

Your memories fade away, and you find yourself in your bedroom again. You're safe. It's gone. Your mind is filled with relief. It was all a memory after all. A nightmare. But you still feel a bit shaken. You know these memories are still deep in your brain. And you fear that they'll surface again in the future. It's a terrible feeling. Your body still feels cold, and your heart is still beating fast.

Sebaste is looking at you with a concerned face. He's still here with you. He doesn't know what happened, but he feels concerned about your well-being. You want to tell him what happened, but you don't know if you should. You don't want to worry him any more than you already just did. But, you do feel the need to talk to him, to share what's on your mind.

You scramble backward when he touches your legs. "Don't touch me!" you cry out through your tears. You're still caught up in the nightmares, and you're terrified. "I'm not going back!" you scream.

Sebaste stops, his expression filled with concern.

"Hey," he says, gently. "Calm down," he says, his voice soft and reassuring. "Calm down," he says again, holding his hands up and showing you that he's not going to hurt you. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you." 

He tries to move closer, but you move backward again. He doesn't want to scare you. 

"It's okay." he says, "It's okay, you're here, in the present. Nothing terrible is going to happen."

“Please don’t hurt me.” You beg, hyperventilating.

"No, no," Sebaste says, his eyes full of concern. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to lock you up. I'm not going to do anything to you."

He steps closer again, but you move away.

"It's okay." he says, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you."

He tries to show you that he's not going to do anything to you, he's trying to reassure you. He speaks slowly and softly, trying to comfort you. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “You're safe." he says, "Calm down. I don’t know what happened to you in your past, but just know you are safe here."

“I never could tell you, I never could… I never could.”

Sebaste frowns. "You know," he says, "You don’t have to face all the troubles this world gives you by yourself."

 He moves even closer, slowly and carefully.

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he says, "I'm not going to hurt you or punish you." He's trying to calm you down and soothe your mind, but he knows how difficult it can be. "It's okay," he says, "you're safe, calm down."

“Please don’t hurt me like he did.” You cry out.

"Shh, shh, I'm not going to hurt you like he did," Sebaste says, confused yet trying to be comforting. He doesn’t know what you are talking about but he is trying to understand you. He's speaking in a soft and gentle voice, trying to calm you down. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says, "I'm not like him, whoever he was. It’s okay, you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you here."

You start crying loudly, your eyes filled with tears. You can't seem to stop them. The fear keeps growing inside you.

"Please calm down," Sebaste says, "You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you."

He's trying his best to sound reassuring and comforting, but you can't stop crying. The memories keep coming back, haunting you. He's trying so hard to reassure you, but you're terrified. You're scared of him and the memories are still fresh in your mind. 

Out of impulse, you run out the backdoor before Sebaste can stop you, claiming that a walk would help you calm down.

*~*~*~*

You assume it is dawn right now from the view outside the bedroom windows, but it does not bring you any comfort. Even as the darkness quiets down and gives way to the sky changing from pitch black to teal to salmon pink, a beautiful sight all things considered, it does not change the fact that you are still here, sleeping with silk restraints and tied down to the bed. You can’t speak because you have been gagged as usual, though if you can take Chrollo as a man of his word for once, the gagging will stop soon. You wish you could speak freely, feeling a feeling near a bird having its vocal cords removed. Is this karma for what you have done? If you ever escape, would that be considered your last chance from whatever power is above you?

You have never been religious. That and if there was a God out there somewhere, why would they unleash upon you such a twisted fate? Is this judgment from the divine? Has the court been adjourned, and the suspect not even being there to witness her trial let alone sentencing? Perhaps a successful escape will be the only way for it to reopen. Refrain. 

You can practically hear a judge’s mallet slamming, ending the trial before you can even arrive. Death sentence for you. If you get out of here, maybe there would be an appeal.

If you try and rebuild yourself, whether you are still in captivity or not, would that be your saving grace? Will the heavens above worship the very ground you walk upon, you being what it truly means to be human? What you do next could determine whether or not that can become reality or you are just deluding yourself yet again. False visions can lead to failure, no matter how small that blindness to reality is. 

My Lord, give me one more chance.

That is what prayers are like, right? Maybe, maybe not. You just hope that if the divine does answer your prayer, it will be soon and not the last one. 

Judgment has passed, but you aren’t giving up.

The sunrise is pink now. You are tired. Your mask is fading into watercolor and shattering the faux stars around you. You and the devil lay side by side in your hell; this bed.

You sometimes think sleeping Chrollo is an entirely different person.

Half of his hair is always tangled, the half that was making contact with the mattress. His forehead tattoo however stays in view no matter how messy his hair turns up, not that that meant much. He sleeps on his side every night, facing you in a fetal sleeping position. He is either holding you in his arms with an iron grip or at the very least has one of his palms on one of your cheeks.

Whenever he would wake up before you, he would gently rub your shoulders and mutter sweet nothings in your ear. Sweet nothings like how you looked divine while you slept and oh, just a bit longer and this adjustment period would end. This would be followed by a kiss somewhere on your upper half, then what you would like to eat that morning. You often chose buttered toast or oatmeal, something warm and comforting. You hardly ever liked cold dishes anyway. He would come back a few minutes later with whatever item you requested and feed it to you, or if you have been particularly receptive to his touches and honeyed words, he would untie one of your wrists and sit you up, letting you feed yourself. You have found out that the chance that he would let you feed yourself increases with dishes that don’t require a knife or fork, for obvious reasons.

He never ate in front of you in the bedroom. On times when you were unrestrained for an hour or two, you would occasionally see him with a cup of black coffee or some bread or a pasta dish, but it was indeed rare. You think you eat more than he does. You once dreamt that he had forgotten to eat so much that he died of malnutrition, which is still one of your favorite dreams if you are being honest with yourself. It was funny. So funny that you woke up chuckling. Thank goodness Chrollo was asleep. Or at least pretended to, you wouldn’t put it past him after all.

“Good morning, beloved.”

“Good morning.” You mutter, still half asleep. Your captor chuckles at that and leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek. You yawn and turn over to him the best you can while still being restrained to the headboard. You blink once, twice, three times in total before you can see the cross on his forehead. “What time is it?”

*~*~*~*

You go to the old shed that is on the other side of the farm.

You unlock the door with your key, disrupting the spider webs that have been made both inside the lock and on the doorframe. There are no bright lights as only your house, the coop and the barn have electricity for heating and the radio, though Sebaste likes working on his desktop so you have let him install new cables in his office. 

“Bonjour.” There is a smile on your face, but it is one as cold as the beach’s ocean. 

The corpse remains fastened to the chair with its arms attached to the handles with zip ties. 

Half of the top of his skull was caved into itself from a quite obvious strike of a hammer, leaving some dried brain matter on its surface with a trail of blood leading from the crack at the center of the crevice downward to his lips. His eyes were gouged out with the optic nerves still in place making them move from side to side if a fly or rat had touched it or had started to eat it.

If you ever were to eventually dump the body, you would need to at the very least hide the inside of his mouth as the corpse had no teeth and some maggots had started to make the near-black gums their new home. You would also have to tear out the eyeballs and close the eyelids. You didn’t want to leave anyone who finds the body to be too traumatized, after all.

It would also be harder to identify that way. No one knew of someone who had willingly their mouth and eyes sewn shut, after all, and also the top of his head hardly had any hair from all of the yanking you had done yourself, the bottom of the shed being littered with it along with dust, urine, blood, and other bodily fluids. 

Hisoka knew the human body well, unsurprisingly considering he is a member of the Phantom Troupe. 

*~*~*~*

The bruised and battered man brought to you was a mix of what you were and were not expecting.

He had short hair that was shaved on its sides and slicked back with a tad too much gel. There was a small part of it that was black in the back while the rest of it was an unnatural dark yellow, like Dijon mustard in a sense, making you assume that he was born dark-haired. 

His face was an odd mix of round and oblong, his nose asymmetric and bulbous.

His lips were thin and looked cracked, his breath smelling so much of garlic, booze, sweat, and cigar smoke that you smelled him before you saw him.

He was short and thin, small bits of dried skin sticking among his black and blue cheeks and one of his eye areas, forehead, and his broken nose. He had dark brown eyes and a poorly taken care of mustache that looked like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in at least a week. The man seemed to be half unconscious by the looks of it, Hisoka certainly did not hold back on him. Not that you complained about it.

“Into the shed, then?”

The Spider’s voice is like bubblegum in a way; sticky, too sweet, artificial.

The man, thrown at your feet just a minute or two prior, groans in pain. His voice is grainy, and croaky, akin to a dying frog. Slimy, loud, and almost gross. If it weren’t for Sebaste, you would still hate them. For that reason only, you then move from the image of a frog or toad to a jackdaw. Annoying, and loves shiny things, if the many golden jewelry the man has around his neck and wrists were any indication of such.

They both are just gross.

Sticky, sticky, sticky. Slimy, slimy, slimy.

“Yes, there’s a chair inside for him in the center.”

“I know,” Hisoka says, his smile widening into a smirk. “I saw it.”

You choose not to pry any further, Hisoka has proven to be a man of his word and a key ally. However, he is no chess piece for you to control; whether he is a king, knight, or pawn.

He moves on his own. If what he says is true, even Chrollo does not control him, letting him do whatever he wants. You have both recognized how strong Hisoka is to either side. He plays a double agent to get twice the rewards in the end, whether that reward is simple amusement or riches.

You would like to think that your voice is like bittersweet chocolate with almonds. Sweeter than its dark counterpart, but more bitter compared to its milk one. Slightly dry or crumbly. It has an unlimited shelf life if stored in the dark and surrounded by cold air.

“Your tools are cute.” Hisoka murmurs as he drags the man by his broken leg and throws him into the chair with a hard slamming sound. “Adorable even, I’ll be sure to use some.”

“Feel free. Be sure to zip-tie him first.”

“Should I though? It’s not like he’s getting very far anyway.”

“Just do it please.”

Hisoka chuckles as he obliges your request. 

“There. Happy, princess?”

“Never call me that again.”

He shrugs and laughs, the sound nearly causing your ears physical pain as your stomach recoils onto itself. You hope he will oblige that request too, if he is in a good mood right now. Hopefully. All Spiders loved bloodshed from the looks of it, and torturing a man is probably child’s play to him. To Chrollo and Feitan at least it was. 

You still have nightmares of those who were tortured in front of you.

It was in the early days of your capture. You think those sessions in Feitan’s basement were to instill fear in you, with your cries and begging to not see it anymore. Not that you could run, Chrollo made sure Feitan chained you to the wall with the longest chain he had, which wasn’t much, but perhaps it was a small mercy along with the stool you were given. During those rather unfortunate meetings, Feitan would rarely ever talk to you and Chrollo would either be sitting beside you or partaking in the gruesomeness himself with his book. 

“Very well, little beauty,” His praise feels more like a threat. “Should I slap him awake now or after the tools are set out?”

You don’t answer, instead trying to remember what specific techniques they used. It wasn’t hard, not to your own surprise. 

“I’ll do it after, then.”

He opens the spare closet this shed came with and whistles. You think if Hisoka ever was surprised, you think that would be how he would act. 

Three pistols, bullets both blanks and not, and a taser are on the top part. Multiple knives litter the second shelf, most being taken from your kitchen. A large hammer is on the floor level, the kind used for tenderizing meat, along with cleavers and a large orange chainsaw. A birthday gift from Robin, as odd as it was. At least now you would be able to use it.

“Nervous? God, you can’t get any cuter, can you?”

You start thinking whether or not this deal was a bad idea, but stomp out the thought.

Hisoka is valuable. You cannot lose him in this game.

“No.”

“No?” He mimics your fear with his ever-eternal smirk on his face. “You know, I think I am starting to know why the boss was so taken with you.”

Hisoka is much bolder than Chrollo ever was. This can both hurt and help you in your situation. You have to think carefully of what to say and do while in his presence.

As Hisoka retrieves the tools, a silent exchange unfolds between you and him. One by one, he delicately arranges them on the petite table positioned next to the chair. He hums a melody unknown to you, but it sort of resembles carnival music. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

He goes back and forth between the table and the closet slowly. He brings forth a tool like a cat bringing its owner a dead bird before going back for another. You think this is for dramatic effect. Chrollo and Feitan both love a dramatic buildup before the finale, after all, so Hisoka should too.

Eventually, when all the tools are laid out, he pauses and puts his pointer finger and thumb on his chin in contemplation. 

“Ah, which to use first… hmm,” He grabs your wrist and pulls you in closer to him, his other hand playing with your hair. You try to get away, but his grip tightens as he chuckles. He then pats your head and adjusts your bangs so they aren’t as ruffled. “Which do you think, dear? Maybe the tweezers or-”

He stops himself as he picks up a pin cushion from the now bare closet floor, with a few needles and thread beside it. “Ah, this brings up some memories, doesn’t it, my dear? Our dear sewer. Should I say hi to her for you?”

You shake your head as your eyebrows furrow. “How are you supposed to do that? If she knows it came from me she’ll come for me. She’ll bring me back.”

“True. I could say it was anonymous.”

You think he’s just playing around, teasing you. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that to his new plaything.

If she wasn’t a Spider, maybe you would have accepted. She was nice to you and even taught you how to sew once. It was after a meeting and she had noticed that you had a small hole in your dress, a detail both you and Chrollo had missed. Chrollo trusted her enough to let you not be at his side for a few minutes, knowing that she would give you right back to him. 

“You’re really lucky that this shed is on the other side of your property, my dear.”

“I know.”

You cannot truly be free without getting your hands stained, you tell yourself.

*~*~*~*

Your stalker turned out to be Dario’s eldest son.

A legitimate heir, it would seem. He was stalking you to make you his wife, eventually. He wanted to get rid of Sebaste. He kept screaming insults as he died, and also promising to take good care of you as your husband, which only pissed you off and amused Hisoka further. 

It was Dario’s dying wish for the stranger and you to marry.

Disgusting.

*~*~*~*

You had learned what exactly Nen was today. You did not expect to, all things considered. You were just traveling on foot trying to find some shelter after leaving yet another dirty motel room.

Another individual shared your idea, journeying alongside you toward the unknown destination this path would unveil. You didn’t speak to each other until there was a fork in the road. It was raining and muddy, making you almost slip and fall into him. That was when you finally took a good look at him. He was short, around your height, had worn clean clothes, and had well-kept short black hair with purple highlights.

He seemed to be able to take care of himself well. When he stared back at you, he crossed his arms and scoffed. His face contorted into one of disgust, you think. 

Perhaps he was also comparing you to him. Your hair was soaking wet from the rain as you had lost your only jacket, the jacket you stole from some unsuspecting teenager. The indent that the bear trap left on your leg was still there, covered in dried blood, with you wincing every time you took a step. Your clothes were tattered and stained with sweat, water, and blood. 

Despite you two being the same height, this man seemed to tower over you, staring down at you like you were some sort of pest to him. His lower lip was slightly droopy because of the scowl he had on his face. It was like you were responsible for this man’s suffering or the heavy rain. 

Both of your pairs of eyes looked exhausted, though. The stranger had a few cuts on his otherwise flawless and pale cheeks and some of his makeup had washed away from the rain, showing his large eyebags. Your cheeks had purple bruises and cuts twice as deep, your eyebags even bigger than the man’s.

Is he pitying you? Hating you? Envying you? He seems unreadable, the only emotion shown on his face being disgust and slight anger. Does he want to fight you?

You sure hope not. Hopefully, he will choose one of the paths and walk it and you will take the other.

You nearly flinch as he speaks.

“Who are you?”

Your mind runs through tens of fake names and titles given to you by those you have encountered in the past. “Just a wanderer.”

He scoffs again and turns to the side, clearly not buying your lie.

He stomps his foot down, the mud splashing your bare feet. 

“I’m not stupid. Who are you?”

You both look down at your feet at the same time.

Your feet are covered in injuries from the past few weeks, a large infection on your right one screeding yellow pus. You didn’t have enough funds to buy medical supplies and thought that just going on walking would be the best option, much to your future self’s pain. 

You’re so smart, yet so dumb.

“A runaway.”

He nods as a mocking smile appears on his face.

“Good. You have a functioning brain it seems.” His voice is full of so much fake sugar that it makes you sick. “No wanderer would ever be in as bad a shape as you are in. What did you run away from?”

Should you tell him the truth? He obviously knows something about you. Maybe you could tell him a half lie, tell him that you ran away from an abusive family that is after you, or a crazy ex. The second one wouldn’t necessarily be a lie after all. Maybe you could just laugh it off like it is some joke between two acquaintances, but you know he wouldn’t like that at all. So, you think of an actual answer.

A good one.

“I ran away from…” You hesitate to speak, fearing the repercussions that may follow if you reveal the truth. “A kidnapper.”

His mocking smile fades, his mouth falling into a flat line. “Who is?” You want to cry but you can’t.

You don’t want him to know. He can’t know. You can’t run because of your leg. You can’t keep all of your suffering under lock and key and never tell a soul. It has to eventually get out, like you have.

He keeps staring at you with those cold blue eyes of his, not amused, and takes no nos for answers. He wants to know.

“Go ahead.” His voice is bitter like the blackest coffee.

Why is he asking you this? Does he know you? Is he a Spider?

“The Phantom Troupe.” You finally say as your head drops back down again. “The leader mostly. I… I ran away a few weeks ago.” You shiver, and you don’t know if it is because of the cold rain or the man’s gaze. You sniffle. “I… I have no money. No home.”

There. You got it out to someone.

Hopefully, nothing bad will happen to you now, right?

“Believable. Understandable.”

He takes a few steps closer, and closer and you stand still like you are trapped in stone. You make eye contact again, and there is a softness in his eyes that makes you feel slightly warmer. He nods.

He looks down at your leg, at your feet, your hands, your arms, and your face.

“I’ll help you then.”

*~*~*~*

“I’m back.”

You want to apologize to him. You want to hug him. You probably hurt him.

You hurt him while he was trying to help you.

You set your coat down on the coat rack by the entrance, took off your shoes, and started walking up the stairs to the living room and kitchen area. You heard water rushing from the faucet and scrubbing. Sebaste seemed to be paying too much attention to washing the dishes to notice you. 

“I just want to say that I am sorry. I am.”

Your voice inadvertently trembles, exceeding your intentions, but the circumstances render it unavoidable. The aftermath of your intense outcry on the distant side of the farm leaves your throat with a lingering ache. Permeated by a cold sweat, your neck becomes speckled, and your arms quiver as you position yourself behind him. Your gaze darts aimlessly, evading direct contact with him as he pivots in your direction.

To the kitchen towels. To the tiles on the floor. To the refrigerator. 

As he dries his hands, silence prevails. Uncertain of his gaze or whether he caught your words, your anxiety fluctuates. It is essential to remind yourself daily that he is not Chrollo.

He is not Chrollo. 

Right?

He can’t be. He is too good of a person. You care about him.

There is a ring of the doorbell, and Sebaste walks off without saying a word, frowning.

When he opens the door, it is like the Devil himself rose from hell to collect you.

[valdiis]

Character Traits: Daephrin Astramente

— B A S I C S

Name: Daephrin Rosamar Astramente Nicknames: Dae, Lark, Samar, 'hey asshole!' Age: Somewhere around 32 Nameday: 15th sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon Race: Ishgardian Elezen Gender: Cisgender male Orientation: Bisexual and yes, please Profession: Sky pirate, treasure hunter, leather-worker, professional scoundrel

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Warm black and windswept; straighter when it's very short or very long, wavy when it's a little shaggy. Eyes: Vivid emerald. Skin: Sun-tanned and lightly freckled. Tattoos/scars: No tattoos, a fading burn scar on his upper shoulders.

— F A M I L Y

Parents: Lucarian Astramente and Ilystra Rochenoire. Lucarian was a Temple Knight and Ilystra a noblewoman. When Lucarian married her, the official name of the noble house changed to his surname instead of hers. House Rochenoire was known for producing profound intellects and the Astramente line a knack for navigation. Ilystra died of pneumonia and several months later, Lucarian dropped dead of a heart attack. They say that couples in love rarely survive one another. Siblings: His older brother, Sarin, was a lancer and died in the Dragonsong War. His younger brother, Onaerion, is currently the head of House Astramente. Grandparents: Daephrin never knew them, but the Rochenoires were stiff, devout Ishgardians who had fallen on hard times and were very pleased to marry their daughter off to a relatively wealthy Temple Knight. The Astramente family was proud to count a Knight among their sons; they were mostly traders and trackers, barely a step above scoundrels but for their wealth. Wealth hides a multitude of sins. In-laws and Other: Though he is formally dating one man and unofficially entangled with another, Dae doesn't have any in-laws at this point. He has an Astramente uncle he's never met, but his mother was an only child. Pets: While he would like to have live pets one day, he fears he can't care for them at this time with his lifestyle. Instead, he has Sniffer, Spotter, and Sparrow - mammets made for him by his lover, Jaxon. Sniffer is a delightful little cat-dog mammet that sniffs out treasure. Spotter is a spider-like trap finder. And Sparrow is a bird-shaped recording device.

— S K I L L S

Abilities: Daephrin is quite a decent leather-worker, though he makes no fuss over it. More of a fuss is made over the fact that he's a crack shot with any ranged weapon of any kind (a manifestation of the Echo), including thrown knives. Just don't hand him a lance; he'll put someone's eye out. He knows Allagan programming language and technological construction. He can play piano pretty well. Hobbies: Aforementioned leather-work and Allagan treasure hunting. Airship maintenance for fun and profit.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Dae is charming nearly to a fault. He can convince snakes to dance on their tails and Monetarists to part with their gil. He's got the perfect mix of a kind air, a clever mouth, and a fast mind; it makes him easy to trust, even when you probably shouldn't. Most Negative Trait: He is horribly, terribly self-centered. He struggles to put himself in other people's shoes or to think outside himself. He's working on it, but he's still pretty selfish.

— L I K E S

Colours: Black, gold, green. Smells: Well-oiled leather, bay rum, sun-warmed wood, his lovers' colognes (Jaxon and M'rath smell different, but equally amazing), fresh citrus. Textures: Silk, leather, black cat's fur, lacquered wood. Drinks: Whiskey, tea, hot chocolate, coffee, the occasional orange juice.

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not anymore. Drinks: Sometimes. Drugs: Once in a great while, though he did more when he was younger. Mount Insurance: Uh... No? His usual mount is a motorbike, as he has not the facilities to care for an animal. (In practice, he rides a kamuy because I love them, but he wouldn't know what a kamuy is.) Been Arrested: He has so far escaped the law, but his luck may one day run out.

[c-bookwyrm]

Really, she didn't know what to expect. She held the bottle in her hands, gently swishing the liquid back and forth in thought. When Walter had given it to her, he merely said Gilbert had wanted it prepared for her- yet when she blinked up in confusion, stating she hadn't felt ill lately, he had paused.

"Have the two of you not spoken about this yet?"

Yet.

Her face must have been enough for Walter, as he sighed and muttered some choice words about Gilbert before shaking his head.

And now she sat in his room, swishing the liquid, bouncing from thought to thought. She wasn't stupid, despite the initial reaction she had. There was a suspicion to what the liquid was, but quietly, privately, she was hoping it was something else entirely.

Her thinking was interrupted by the clack of his doorknob turning. Gilbert came into the room with a sigh, visibily perking up when seeing her waiting.

"Hehe, did you miss me? You could have visited me in the lab, instead of leaving me all alone."

She hummed, glancing down at the item in her hands. Was there a point to go over a preamble?

No. There wasn't. Not when she realized just how tense her shoulders were, her stomach twisting in anticipation.

"Gil..." She lifted it out of her lap for him to see, "Walter g-gave me this. What is...?"

His expression changed, just for a moment- a flash in his eye, vacant of emotion until he blinked again, smile lingering.

"I'd like you to start taking that."

Mm... The feeling in her gut churned once more.

"Why?"

He didn't respond, focusing on dressing down for the evening.

"I won't. Not until you explain." Her voice was firm, and she was quietly thankful her stutter didn't surface.

"Little rabbit, you know what it's for."

"No."

Sighing, he put his hands on the back of his desk chair, keeping his back to her, "this isn't a debate."

"No, it's a discussion. That I want."

"We can't have a child." A pause, as if waiting for her to speak, "that's non-negotionable. If the medicine makes you ill, I'll improve on it to combat the side effects-"

"Explain."

She could hear the creaking in the wood as he gripped his chair harder, but he relented. Gilbert turned around now, facing her with his cryptic smile.

"You know of my plans, what they were, or have you forgotten?"

"I haven't. Don't regard me so poorly."

"Then is it a surprise I don't want this bloodline to continue? To pass on the curse of this-" He cut himself off, pausing before speaking again, "I won't have a child."

"I... Don't want a child, either." She began, glancing up at him after she spoke. When he continued to look her way, expression... telling her nothing negative, she went on, "I don't... like my choice being decided. Without d-discussion."

"There is not disc-"

"Yes. Yes there is. I-It's talking to me, before ha-having someone else hand me the bottle. It's t-treating me more as an equal, instead of s-something you own." She furrowed her brows, frustration growing at her stutter spiking, "I respect your choice. But I want the r-respect of you telling me what you would like to d-do to prevent this, instead of e-expecting me to accept wordless treatment."

Quiet seeped back into the room, and she found her heart didn't stop pounding. Instead, her ears rang, chest tightening uncomfortably.

"O-one of the reasons I love you i-is for treating me as a person. I don't like being treated otherwise, I've already gone through that a multitude of times. And I deserve more than th-that."

She saw Gilbert pull himself away from the chair, before carefully joining her by her side. Wordlessly, he slid his arm around her middle, pressing a kiss against her temple.

The way his hand rested on her hip was gentle, as if pressing on her further would hurt her. It didn't resolve her anger, not completely. But it quelled the heavy unease, the general fear of speaking for herself.

"You're right."

It was a simple agreement. But it helped her shoulders ease, her breath come out sooner.

"Yes. I am."

The huff in her voice brought forth a chuckle from him, and her brows immediately furrowed. However, he was quick to quell her, planting another kiss against her forehead. And another, as her frown persisted, until she relented.

They'll have more moments like this, that she knew. Until he learned to further let his walls down, to accept that trust needed to be needled into every action that they took together. But she was willing to be patient with him, as he was with her.

[peacock-mooncat]

♦ B A S I C S ♦

Name: Sierra bihn Gamduhla

Nicknames: Sie (to her friends), the Jewel of Thavnair (to her admirers), and goddess (to Ul'dahn elites with enough gil)

Age: Late 20s, early 30s

Nameday: 13th Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon

Race: Miqo'te, Keeper of the Moon 🌙☺️

Gender: Female 

Orientation: Pansexual

Profession: Adventurer, dancer, socialite

♦ P H Y S I C A L ~ A S P E C T S ♦

Hair: A dark, saturated purple with blonde streaks, kept at medium length with straight-cut bangs in front. Some of her blonde streaks are natural, but she likes to add a few herself.

Eyes: A vibrant red-magenta, with the trademark large moonkitty eyes 🥺

Skin: Rich brown

Tattoos/scars: A prominent scar runs across her left eye. No one has gotten her to say how it came to be, only that she considers it the fault of her own hubris.

♦ F A M I L Y ♦

Parents: Sierra never knew her father. She's descended from a long line of Thavnairian merchants; her mother is the current matriarch of her Keeper clan, and a decently successful merchant as well. Sierra doesn't talk about her too much, hinting that maybe their relationship is not cordial.

Siblings: Rhekka bihn Gamduhla is Sierra's much-younger, more-chaotic sister. Her and Sierra see eye-to-eye on very little.

Grandparents: Sierra's grandparents passed away before she was born.

 In-laws and Other:  Since she married Yrja, she's only got, uh, Fran and Balthier as in-laws. Well, technically anyway; it's likely neither of them know Sierra even exists.

Pets: Ingot, her Othardian Peacock! Sierra got Ingot when he was just a chick, and helped raise him. He grew quite a bit larger than she expected, and now helps ferry her across Etheirys.

♦ S K I L L S ♦

Abilities: Dancing, a bit of blue magic, hosting friends

Hobbies: Goldsmithing, reading Ishgardian romance novels, performing in minor events at the Carnivale

♦ T R A I T S ♦

Most Positive Trait: She tries her best to read a room and make everyone comfortable. Whether it's in a dungeon with fellow adventurers or relaxing with friends in safety, Sierra strives to keep spirits light -- sometimes to her detriment.

Most Negative Trait: Not all that glitters is gold -- gems, silks, and flesh fascinate just as well. While she normally has a good head on her shoulders, beautiful things make her weak. She's made some poor choices in life due to her greed for gil, due to a pretty girl's wink, or due to the promise of a rare gemstone.

♦ L I K E S ♦

Colors: Emerald green, deep purple, gold; jewel tones in general

Smells: Floral scents! The smell of Thavnair's markets, and of fresh-baked sweets

Textures: Smooth textures, especially fabrics. Silk is one of her favorites.

Drinks: Tea, though she's open and will try other drinks when the opportunity presents itself.

♦ O T H E R ~ D E T A I L S ♦

Smokes: She partakes of a smoking pipe every now and again in social situations, but it's not something she does on the regular.

Drinks: She drinks socially, and prefers tastier drinks to hard liquor.

Drugs: Not yet. Probably not likely, but the right one could pique her curiosity.

Mount Issuance:  Ingot, her Othardian Peacock! ... deja vu.

Been Arrested: Nah, Sierra is fairly law-abiding.

------------------ Thanks for tagging me @iona-xiv, this was really fun!! ☺️

A'ight, time to start tagging -- sorry if you've already been tagged, I tried to check first but I might've missed it! @tsunael, @starforger, @airis-ray, @cassandra-allegra (GIMME YRJA LORE); I am 100% positive there are people I am forgetting and I am so sorry, my brain is mush after this post haha

[i-did-not-mean-to]

April Alphabet Masterlist

So...here are my stories for the April Alphabet.

I've decided to also offer (supplementary or alternative) inspiration for my birthday celebration.

A - Archery - Kíli x OC (for @fandomfaeryreads)

B - Battle - Ori x reader (for @maalezzo)

C - Courtship - Gil-Galad x Glorfindel (for @maglor-my-beloved)

D - Dress-up - Erestor for @eunoiaastralwings

E - Escape - Boromir x OC for @scyllas-revenge

F - Flowers - Haldir x OC for @sorisooyaa

G - Gold - Fíli x OC (for @laurfilijames)

H - Horses - Éomer x OC (for @laurfilijames)

I - Inebriated - Nwalin (for @lordoftherazzles)

J - Jewellery - Celebrimbor x Maeglin (for @maglor-my-beloved)

K - Key - Ori x OC (for me)

L - Languages - Faramir x Éowyn (for @scyllas-revenge)

M - Mountains - Angbang

N - Nighttime - Námo & Irmo (in honour to @cílil)

O - Ordinary - Russingon

P - Picnic - Bagginshield (for @myeaglesong)

Q - Quiet - Finwëan Widows (for ME)

R - Royalty - Gondolin OT3 (for @jaz-the-bard)

S - Swords - Eönwë for @cilil

T - Tragedy - Bagginshield (for @maalezzo)

U - Unexpected - Beleg x Mablung (for @lycheesodas)

V - Voices - Maglor/Daeron/Finrod

W - Waterfall - Thranduil x reader (for @scyllas-revenge)

X - XOXO - Ori x OC, Fíli x OC, Teacher AU

Y - Yearning - Boromir x OC (for @lathalea)

Z - ZzZ's - Éomer x OC (for @laurfilijames)

This was fun!

[yuyuisabookworm]

∙∵✧ Welcome, fellow bookworms! ✧∵∙

( Edit credit: @/yurgenschmidt )

✦ Hello! I'm Yuyu (he/they) and this is a space where I will share and talk about the fantastic light novel series: Ascendance of a Bookworm! ✦ This is a space where I aim to share fan-works and write out some thoughts and feelings on the series as I read (and inevitably re-read) the series! Hope you enjoy your stay! 📚🐛

♕ Navigation below ♕

∙∵✧ Tags ✧∵∙

Ⅰ. Fanworks

♢Reblog : Fanwork ♢Repost : Fanwork ♢Yuyus : Fanwork

Ⅱ. Fanwork type

♢Playlist ♢Fanart ♢Fanfiction ♢Reading ♢Video

Ⅲ. Official merch and art

♢Official art

Ⅳ. Notes, thoughts and theories galore

♢Commentary ♢Highlights ♢Yuyu rambles

Ⅴ. SPOILER TAGS

♢Spoilers: Part 1 ♢Spoilers: Part 2 ♢Spoilers: Part 3 ♢Spoilers: Part 4 ♢Spoilers: Part 5 ♢Spoilers: Web Novel ♢Spoilers: Anime

Ⅵ. CHARACTER TAGS

(will add onto this list as needed! it is not exhaustive)

A. ♦Adolphine ♦Anastasius ♦Angelica ♦Aurelia B. ♦Benno ♦Bertilde ♦Bonifatius ♦Brigitte ♦Brunhilde C. ♦Charlotte ♦Clarissa ♦Corinna ♦Cornelius D. ♦Damuel ♦Deila ♦Detlinde ♦Dirk E. ♦Eckhart ♦Effa ♦Eglantine ♦Elvira F. ♦Ferdinand ♦Florencia ♦Fran ♦Freida ♦Fritz G. ♦Georgine ♦Gil ♦Gretia ♦Gunther ♦Gustav H. ♦Hannelore ♦Hartmut ♦Hildebrand ♦Hirschur ♦Hortensia I. ♦Ignaz ♦Isidore J. ♦Johann ♦Judithe ♦Justus K. ♦Kamil ♦Karstedt ♦Konrad L. ♦Lamprecht ♦Lasfam ♦Laurenz ♦Leberecht ♦Leise ♦Leonore ♦Lestilaut ♦Letizia ♦Lieseleta ♦Lutz ♦Linhardt M. ♦Mark ♦Marthe ♦Matthias ♦Melchior ♦Monika ♦Muriella ♦Myne N. ♦Nicola ♦Nikolaus ♦Nora ♦Norbert O. ♦Ortwin ♦Ottilie ♦Otto P. ♦Philine R. ♦Raimund ♦Ralph ♦Raublut ♦Rauffen ♦Rihyarda ♦Roderick ♦Rosina ♦Rozemyne ♦Rudiger S. ♦Schwartz ♦Shikikoza ♦Sigiswald ♦Solange ♦Stenluke ♦Sylvester T. ♦Traugott ♦Tuuli U. ♦Urano V ♦Veronica W. ♦Weiss ♦Wilfried ♦Wilma Z. ♦Zahm

Ⅶ. PAIRING TAGS

(will add onto this list as needed! it is not exhaustive)

♥Rozemyne/Lutz (or) ♥Myne/Lutz ♥Rozemyne/Wilfried ♥Rozemyne/Hartmut ♥Rozemyne/Lestilaut ♥Rozemyne/Ferdinand