#finally i am free from my chains (i brought this on myself)

[heartscrypt]

TEN-FACED: A FANMADE TWST PV

[MINOR FLASH WARNING! PLEASE BE SAFE!]

(ft. cater diamond and trey clover)

heavily inspired by the ten-faced pv made by HannyaG! yes this was the project i was complaining so much about LOL it was a lot of work T_T but it's over... it's done with... and i think it looks good so : )

[REBLOGS APPRECIATED!]

[starillusion13]

MINE TO KILL (Teaser)

Pairing: Royal! Yunho x f! reader (ft. Wooyoung)

Genre: Royal, Mature, Enemies to (?), Smut, Angst

W.C: ??? [1.5k (this is only for teaser)]

Warnings: mention of - to kill someone and threats (all the rest warnings will be in the main plot.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: Thanks for reading and reblogging. I appreciate all of your reviews and feel free to text me if you want. Spread love to others, not hate. I love Yunho when he is angry and guys finally I have identified my bias in Ateez I think it’s Yunho😃 dw it will change in my next fic lol

"And you thought I won't notice?"

You flinched to the sudden dark voice from the stairs. The ceiling lights and the lamps had a warm radiant but those lights were still piercing on your skin. As if the hatred inside you was adding to the heat of the lights.

Your piercing eyes reflected the shining light of the light chain decorated on the railings. You gripped the glass tighter in your hand, feeling the anger rising in you to watch him descending the stairs.

He should slip a step and fall from the stairs in front of you. You scoffed mentally.

The boots hit to the marbled stairs slowly, the walk was slow, too slow to let you hear each sound of his boot precisely and clearly.

Your glares directed towards him made his corner of the lip to tug upwards slightly. He watched you intently and noticed your slight fear which you were trying to hide it but still couldn't.

At this point, the grip on the glass could have broke it easily but somehow it didn't break.

Maybe like the hatred inside you was enough to burn him but the slight fear was more powerful to hold it back.

"Why are you here?" You hissed.

He eyed the glass in your grip and walked forward to stand a bit too close to your liking. you were glued to the ground where you were standing. you wanted to run away but still something inside you was forcing you to face it, face him like the royal you are. are you strong enough? maybe not. he is more powerful than you. both in morals and money.

"If I say...for you?" he said and leaned forward to inhale the perfume. he hummed near your ear, "same sweet smell. It always remind me of the night. don't you miss that night of us?"

"Never. why can't you just forget about it?"

he chuckled and stood straight, "oh it's too perfect and interesting to remember. how can I just let that sweet moment slip through my mind. I am carving it on a campus to make it remember even if I have amnesia one day."

you gritted your teeth and raised the glass to throw the wine at him but he was quick to get a hold of your hand and took away the glass from you. you glared at him but he just smirked at you and brought the glass to his lips, maintaining an eye contact with you. you could hear some people passing by the passage through, outside the main door of the hall in the backyard of the palace. you glanced to the direction of the door and hoped someone to enter so that you could escape his grip because your strength was nothing to his.

the voices became distant and the hope inside you died down with the rising of the bubble of the little fear.

"I hope you soon have the amnesia and so that I can kill you by myself." you wiggled your hand under his grip.

he ignored you and asked, "did you drink this yet? did your lips touched the glass?" He swirled the wine in the glass.

"why? will you drink from it now?"

he poked his inner cheek and smirked widely, "oh! I am craving for the lips from that night and if you don't give me the honor to devour them again then I have to do it in this way."

"Yunho, mind your words." you threatened him only to get a loud laugh from him. he threw his head back and amusedly watched his grip on your wrist. the image from that night flashed in front of his eyes. the same way you were whimpering under this hold and begging to him. He could feel something inside him stinging, might be the hatred for you.

"But you loved every words from me when I was choking you." He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

"Please stop it."

"And if I don't?" He loosened his grip on your wrist and as soon as you stepped backward, he harshly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. "Does Wooyoung know about this?"

"About what?" You hissed at him because the grip was leaving red marks on your arm and the rings in his fingers were pressing on your skin.

The touch was filled with hatred or love?

It's visible that it's all about the hate for you.

"About us? The love we shared that night. The way I made you feel good." He leaned to your level to whisper into your ears, his breath hitting your nape and you shivered, "the way I marked you mine. When in the first place you were always his."

"There is nothing called us. That night was a mistake. Don't talk about it again. I don't want Wooyoung to know about it. And I am never yours."

He sipped the wine from your glass and closed his eyes, humming in the taste of the liquid. You watched him in disgust. Gulping down the glass, he noticed your glare.

He paused to stare at the door and when the voice of the person on the other side became distant and he noticed that you were distracted.

He threw the glass across the room and glared at you. You flinched to his sudden action and his grip tightened.

"y/n...y/n...y/n..."

He sang your name and his voice and the name coming out from his mouth sent a shiver down your spine. He noticed your little gulp and harshly turned you around and flushed your back against his chest.

"Y/n and Yunho...isn't our name fit nicely together?" He darkly chuckled in your ears. His one hand grabbing your arm tightly and the other placed on your throat. The hand was caressing the skin around when he suddenly squeezed it.

Your choking sound made him smile widely and in satisfaction he whispered, "it will be so fun to kill you, y/n."

You scoffed, "is that a threat?" and gritted your teeth.

He chuckled amusedly, "why? Does that sound like a compliment?"

He loosened his grip around your throat, you coughed out and took deep breaths but he held you against his body.

"Leave me, Yunho."

"I will only leave you when I will kill you."

He gripped your jaw and made you face him. His glares were strong, his muscles tight against the jaw and neck and the gritted teeth hissing at you.

"Then kill me."

"Y/n. Y/n, where are you?" Wooyoung's voice echoed around the place and you both could hear it. You broke the stare with him and looked towards the door when the door was pushed open.

Yunho changed your position quickly and placed his hand on your cheek and other still holding your arm. Smiling at you and you stared at him in confused silence.

Why is he suddenly acting like this?

Wooyoung entered the hall and found you with Yunho, he smiled at your form who was held by his brother. You both were facing side to him. Yet to notice his approaching steps towards you.

“There you are my love. What are you doing here, y/n? That even with Yunho?” He was smiling all the way and when he reached near you, you pushed Yunho’s hand and hugged Wooyoung, burying your face into his chest.

Wooyoung smiled and patted your head in his embrace and with confusion, he looked at his brother.

“What happened to her?”

Yunho chuckled, “she lost her balance in this dress and her glass fell from her grasp so I was just helping her out.”

Wooyoung nodded and felt your hug tightened around him. You clutched his coat tighter and closed your eyes in anger.

These brothers were always different from each other. Even this day, Wooyoung was in red attire representing his love and passion for you. Whereas Yunho in black attire radiating luxury and power in elegance shooting towards you.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

You nodded to his question and he urged you to stand straight. He told his brother that he would like to leave the place with you to spend some time and his brother nodded. He guided you towards the door and you followed him with your hand entangled with his and looking down. You could feel a stare burning hole on your back but you didn’t look back.

Yunho’s eyes followed till you both exited the door and took a turn. As soon as you were out of his sight, he grabbed his hairs and harshly brushed it back in annoyance.

“I will kill you, y/n.”

He clenched his jaw and glared at the way from where you left with his brother.

“Always remember that you are mine.”

He exhaled heavily and clenched his fist where his knuckled turned white and the palm was almost flushed red with slight edges of the nails digging into his skin.

“Mine to kill.”

T.B.C.

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[shorthaltsjester]

downfall has me thinking about the prime deities far more than is best for my mental health and so i’ve been rewatching c1 just because so many of the pcs have relationships with the gods — even percy and keyleth who hold lower opinions of the gods still have relationships with them — and good grief . you ever think about whitestone as this bastion of love that the gods still have for one another and the love that a party of idiots have for one another. that the centrepiece of the town is a tree from the dawnfather, one used for the builders of castle whitestone to take shelter from the tumultuous lands of the alabaster sierras. a mountain range that came about out of the conflict between the dawn father and the chained oblivion.

the fact that the family that whitestone’s lost son found and brought back with him amounted to two temples being erected, and how fitting that after defeating the briarwoods, the two gods that are given new houses of worship in whitestone are the gods of death and redemption, fate and compassion. do you ever think about how many of vox machina are champions but how much the ones who are not are still held in good faith by the gods, whether or not that is returned? do you ever think about the raven queen telling percy he is broken and reminding him that does not mean he is alone, that means he is mortal, as are all those whom he loves. do you ever think about percy’s death letter, read by vox machina in a tavern as he tells them that the raven queen calling him broken finally opened his eyes to the fact that he has chosen his life (and thus, he might choose better), writing “one the lie [that vengeance would bring my family back] was shattered, I scrambled to find a solution, to make a deal, to undo my mistakes and balance the scales. I now understand that there are no scales. There is no redemption, and no ledger that judges me good or evil. I am free to simply be myself and live with the terrible mistakes I’ve made. Tomorrow, I start upon a path beyond the gods and demons who have tormented me, and it’s your friendship that makes this possible. […] I will try and do my best for you all.” and signing it Percival, of Vox Machina - the family he found and chose, not the one he lost and buried himself in vengeance to avoid. and fucking, vex having just heard percy forgive ripley also hearing those words and having carved the word forgive on the weapon she carries who has a conversation with him to remind him (and herself) that committing to forgiveness over grudges and vengeance means also forgiving the person he’s been that prioritized vengeance. the fact that one of the main things they bond over is that they have similar dispositions to justice and a similar unwillingness to forgive but they both see that in themselves as something they wish to improve at, and that when they eventually marry, each time is by someone devoted to a god neither of them necessarily worship but each of which oversees a domain particularly relevant to that connection - keeper yennen is a worshipper of erathis, and thus the justice that both percy and vex care to honour; pike is a worshipper of raei, and thus the redemption that both vex and percy seek (and see in one another). do you get it.

and god the entirety of the final arc of vox machina is truly some of the most interesting cr content for me just because you get the silliness and depth of vox machina in the face of these Beings On High and they all gaze at these idiots trying to save the world with fondness and the realization with downfall that in many ways those gods were just as much idiots trying to save the world makes that so, so interesting. and i wonder what might’ve happened if one of the gods they’d gone to see had been the lawbearer or the wildmother, what might have been made of percy and keyleth. i wonder if the lawbearer might have taken an interest in a calculating and curious man who loves to strike a deal and stick to it, even if manipulating the contents of the deal made to better suit his ends - especially given that percy was rejected by ioun for his propensity not to share his knowledge, and especially given that whitestone has a historical precedent for worship of the lawbearer. and i wonder what the wildmother would make of an angry girl who is fated to watch the people and places she loves be irrevocably changed and die, who wields her vestige, and who favours the world and it’s people over the gods and their rules — something i’m willing to bet melora would find some common ground with.

there’s also some beautiful symmetry between the relationships of the gods to which vox machina become champions and their own relationships with one another. and i’ve made my post about vax and vex vs. the matron of ravens and the dawn father, but i also think quite a lot about vex and scanlan vs. pelor and ioun. vex and scanlan who can be quite antagonistic to one another but also understand each other as few others do; scanlan who tells the dawn father that vex is not perfect but she is the most perfect among them, vex who hears the knowing mistress tell scanlan that his stories give vox machina strength and genuinely tells him it’s true and that he is very powerful, even when he tries to joke about it. ioun and pelor were the ones to take on tharizdun, ioun nearly perishing and having to hide away to recover. when vox machina asks pelor for her location he doesn’t know it. and fuckin. dalen’s closet. should be a silly little wedding oneshot ends with fuckin. vex glowing with the light of the dawnfather as her and percy, the living son of whitestone, are married by pike who is a cleric and is also the champion of the god of redemption, where the champion of ioun turns into a. dinosaur to walk his friend down the aisle and then grants a wish so that she can see her brother again and the champion of the matron of ravens comes to visit - something that is explicitly stated to be allowed by the matron of ravens. where a twin glowing like the dawn and a twin darkened by raven feather embrace. do you get it . do you see it. the fact that the first story we all heard in exandria was one of a family threatened by fate who could not beat it but did their best with it and that now downfall, the newest story but with parts of the oldest story in exandria’s timeline, is the same. a family who is doing the best with what they have, and what they have isn’t always great.

[astrabear]

I have been increasingly sick since Sunday evening. I finally dragged myself to an urgent care clinic today, where my throat was pronounced "a hot mess" and I was given a steroid shot and a prescription for antibiotics. The steroids have brought the inflammation down enough that I can talk, but I sound like an asthmatic seal on helium. It's a miracle anyone can understand what I say.

When the pharmacy notified me that my prescription was ready, I requested that it be delivered (which my pharmacy offers as a free service, bless them.) You have to arrange delivery over the phone, which was a bit awkward and difficult due to my voice issues. I apologized for that, and the guy at the pharmacy was like "yeah, I saw it was an antibiotic and I heard your voice and put two and two together. I hope you feel better soon."

Well that was several hours ago, and I was starting to get concerned because I still hadn't received the delivery. Then I got a call from that same guy. He said that someone dropped the ball somewhere, he wasn't sure what had happened, but while my meds had been pulled for delivery they never actually made it to the delivery driver. The pharmacy will be closing soon, and I don't have a car available tonight (my housemate is using it.) So this man, whose job does not involve making deliveries, offered to drop it off himself after his shift is over because it was their mistake and he knows I'm sick.

And I am just... so touched by the kindness of that, I can't even care about the mess-up that caused it. I asked if I could talk to his manager, to praise him for taking the initiative like this, and she was also really apologetic and I'm like no no, I'm so happy, you have great staff.

This isn't some little indie outfit, this is the pharmacy department of a large grocery store chain. It would have been very easy for them to be like "welp, sucks to be you, you can either come pick it up or wait another 24 hours." But they chose to take care of me.

I just wanted y'all to know that. Sometimes people are kind.

[snowblossomreads]

Day 3: The Snowball Effect

Pairing: Eli Michaelson x StudentFem!Reader

Summary: [Y/n] goes to her professor in need of a lesson of how chemical reactions work. They opt for a more practical demonstration.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): age gap, student/professor. dubious moral, oral (male receiving) and a wild usage of the prompt (throws holy water at myself)

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: @deepperplexity I want to apologize for the way I used this prompt. 🤣It's a reflection of me as a person and I am flawed LOL. Thank you for understanding. Now lets get to the story while I go get some help 🤣🤣

MDNI

A different way to describe a chain reaction as he told [Y/n] was to imagine a snowball going down a hill and accumulating more snow as it went down before finally accumulating enough to cause an avalanche.

He explained to her that she should focus on how the snowball rolling down hill was the initiation of the reaction, followed by propagation - it accumulating more snow as it rolled down the hill becoming an avalanche at the end and finally, the termination of the reaction. When the avalanche finally comes to a stop and loses all its momentum and forward energy. That's how he said she should think about it.

After the explanation, he asked her if she had any more questions as she had stared at him with a bit of a confused twinkle in her eye. And something more.

"Dr. Michaelson-."

"Eli dear call me Eli."

"Eli I've never seen snow before. I think I might need a more practical example of this."

Who was he to not oblige his pretty little undergrad who had come to him for help?

"A practical demonstration you say? Well you're in luck," he drawled, a hungry grin on his lips as he eyed the woman sitting across from him who was shamelessly rubbing her thighs together already, excited for what was to come. "It just so happens that I was going to add one of those practical demonstrations to my syllabus. Mind helping me see how effective it is in teaching?"

She didn't even have to think about her answer as she popped up from her seat quickly and walked around the desk to his side only to find him rubbing his already freed cock that had an angry red looking head that seemed ready to burst.

When had he had time to do that?

Never mind that she was more interested in the demonstration as he had so called it as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Maybe she shouldn't have worn the skirt considering how seasonally cold the floor was. She should ask him to turn on the heat next time knowing he would probably continue to insist on her wearing something well…accessible.

Turning his chair so that he was facing her and she was facing his cock, Eli removed his hand from himself before directing the kneeling woman to wrap her hand around him firmly but not too tightly.

"That's right wrap your fingers around it and feel free to squeeze oh that's it," he hissed as her cooler digits did as he commanded causing his hips bucking up at the temperature contrast. The contrast of temperatures brought an interesting sensation that was not at all unpleasurable as his cock twitched at the feeling.

"Good girl that's right, now go ahead and move your hand up and down and keep that grip of yours," he directed in a low grunt as she did as he told her.

"Like this sir?" She asked with a tone of innocence as she began to pump the thick member with a practiced paced that he wondered if she had been practicing with any of the boys in her class.

No no, he kept her occupied enough.

"Exactly ah fuck you learn quick don't you," he praised letting out a loud sigh of pleasure to let her know how much he was enjoying the hand job.

"Now open that mouth of yours and lick all around the tip, don't forget the slit ugh fuck yes that's my girl…then I want you to fuck your mouth with my cock can you do that?"

"Yes sir," she answered with no hesitation as she bowed her head, fingers still pumping his pulsing member before she was flicking her tongue around his tip and tasting the warm velvet flesh.

She tested the waters with light kitten licks around the head and small kisses before dipping her tongue in the sensitive slit that had Eli grabbing the arms of his chair and thrusting upwards involuntarily.

"Ugh Uhhn!"

Someone was sensitive today she thought briefly but she had no qualms about that as she continued doing as he had told her. She did enjoy hearing his grunts and groans as she alternated between rubbing his slit with her thumb, smearing him arousal and licking him clean. The salty tang of him was addicting as she swallowed the liquid each time it touched the tip of her tongue and soon enough she was sucking him off with her cheeks hollowed and noisy moans leaving her.

She bobbed her head up and down on his shaft while her hands grabbed at his thighs for purchase as she took more of him down her throat with each pass of her lips. Over and over wet gags filled the room along with expletives coming from Eli who was letting her do all the work of demonstrating his practical explanation of what a snowball effect looked like.

Though she wasn't sure if they were quite there yet.

"Fuck that's it use that little greedy mouth, fuck naughty little thing," he praised as she moaned and gagged on him yet went to take more until she was burying her face in his lap at one point.

It drew out a loud elongated raspy groan from the older man as he sat upright suddenly from the shock of pleasure that filled his veins. His sudden action caused his cock to slide deeper down her throat than she was prepared for causing her to almost choke. Yet she held her composure only letting out a loud whimper as he began to lift his hips up slowly thrusting into her already stuffed mouth.

"Oh god I'm enjoying this, ugh so much fuck gonna come in that little mouth of yours," he loudly grunted as his hand found the back of her head and began to push it down in tandem with his thrusts. "Don't swallow do you fuck understand? It's essential you keep all my semen in you mouth when I come!"

"Mhmmh mhmm!" She could only hum her understanding which only caused his cock to feel like it had hardened even more in her mouth at the vibrations.

That only meant one thing, and within in a few more moments of thrusting he came with a noisy shout of her name as as his sticky salty seed began to coat the inside of her mouth.

It was so much that she was scared he might drown her with it as he had told her not to swallow and she was keen on obeying. Thankfully he must have known how much she could take as he was pushing her off his cock only to have a few spurts paint her face causing her to let out a garbled whine.

She held her mouth closed though as she watched him lean back on his chair. Hair and shirt disheveled, face red and sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion of well...having her give him a blowjob for the sake of education.

"Now come sit here," he panted out pointing at his lap. "Open your mouth and let's see if we've collected enough of our test sample."

Scrambling up from the floor, she quickly planted herself on the knee of his spread legs before opening her mouth showing the pearly liquid that she held in her mouth.

Humming in approval at the sight, Eli ran his hand up her body before giving her tit a nice firm squeeze causing her to shut her mouth and groan at his touch.

"Excellent, with that we can do the actual demonstration, all you need to do is kiss me to start the reaction, oh you like the sound of that don't you?" He teased when she let out a low whine at his direction that was accompanied by him squeezing her side causing her to make another squeak.

"After that you just need to deposit our sample into my mouth, and then I'll give it back to you, and we'll do it oh about five times should be enough to get the point across. We can redo it later if we need to try again. Now come on let's get to work."

Hand cupping the back of her head and pushing it forward without warning, Eli pressed his lips against the woman's harshly licking at the seams of it before she was opening them and letting his cum slip into his mouth.

He groaned at the taste as it was now mixed with her saliva making it even sticker as he added his own before swapping it with her again. It was a messy process and [Y/n] was sure there was a bit running down her chin but it didn't stop her from letting him spit the substance in her open and waiting mouth before she was adding more to the mess.

They did this five times as he instructed, each time the ball of saliva and cum mixing before it was back in [Y/n]'s mouth causing her to puff her cheeks as the volume of liquid had indeed increased with them swapping it back and forth.

Taking a pleased look at her, Eli swooped down and gave her one last kiss before commanding her to.

"Swallow."

She did with a barely audible 'gulp' as he watched with a devious smirk plastered on his face.

"And that's what we call a snowball effect, I think it's a great way to teach don't you think?"

"Mhmm, but I think we may need to retry it.”

"Really and why's that?"

"Well Eli I think the sample loss some of it's volume due to human error," she pointed out, though her voice took on a teasing tone as she swiped some of the cum that had landed on her cheek and proceeded to suck it off her digits. His eyes followed her movements and he let out a soft groan, shifting in his seat as he felt his cock twitch at her salacious action.

"And I want to make sure I have a concrete understanding. Can't let my professor down now can I?"

Smirking at her 'reasoning' the older man could only let out a amused laugh before his hand trailed down and squeezed her ass causing her to moan and push herself closer to him.

"Such a studious student Ms. [Y/n], well then, let's repeat the expriment and see if we can improve our sample collection technique."

A/N: I just I'm so sorry LOLOLOL. No actually I'm not 🤣I hope u guys enjoyed this unhinged mess.

[gothicaphrodite]

I love all my gods equally, even if I consider myself a devotee to two of them and worshipper of the other three. They've all been great to me in their own different ways.

Aphrodite's warm embrace that makes me feel held at all times, especially when I need it most, the joy she's brought back to my life when no one and nothing else did before.

Ares' fierce support, how he always gives me strength to get to the finish line, the push I need to run that last lap so my efforts can finally pay off and then I can rest easy.

Persephone's never-wavering offer of resilience and protection, her mercy as well as ruthless justice, her refuge and promise for a better tomorrow.

Dionysus' passionate encouragement, his always standing hand-holding to free myself from all my chains, his unbreakable acceptance of me as I am even when society hates me.

But Hermes has been so fucking kind, giving and patient to me in ways I can't put into words.

Hermes and Aphrodite were the only ones who gave me gifts as soon as I asked, before I set up proper altars or did any offerings, I just had to promise I would pay them back and they immediately trusted my word and gave away their gifts to me. I'll always be grateful.

I'll never be able to thank Hermes enough.

His bright, rascal laugh, his incredible patience*, his delightful casual approach, how light-hearted he feels in a way that almost feels humble but it only makes him more godly, how attentive he is, the way he felt like a hilarious and very sweet, trusted old friend as soon as I first prayed to him.

I started my worship of him because my fiancé and I took a brief vacation and it was my first time travelling by plane, and soon after I thought I'd get a chance to work as a flight attendant, which strengthened my push to worship him. That didn't work out in the end. I've been looking for a job for 2 years, my fiancé and I really need more money.

And now I just realized I'm finally getting a chance at a good position that deals entirely with communication. I cannot see this as anything other than Hermes' answer to my prayers.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

*Not that my other gods haven't been patient to me too, but Hermes? Wow.

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

The Final Sunset

Previous | First | Next

TW: Violence, Unreality (poll)

You dodged. It's almost instinctual with how quickly your body moved. You flinged your body as far as you could, landing in a pile of snow near a tree. You quickly scrambled up. "Caramel Arrow Cookie-!"

You had no time to react, as the infected Cookie let out a noise that sounded like both a hiss and a snarl before it lunged forward. It trapped Caramel Arrow Cookie's arm in it's maw, and bit down.

A sickening CRUNCH filled the air as your friend screamed from the pain. You stood there, frozen, watching as your friend tried to yank herself free, but to no avail.

A blazing hot chain whipped past your face, a flame burning fiercely from it. Mala Sauce Cookie's voice could barely pierce the ringing in your ears. You could only watch as the chain of her weapon wrapped around the infected and burst into flame.

It let go of Caramel Arrow Cookie, who fell to the ground, wailing from the agony. The infected Cookie began to shriek and roar from both pain and rage, writhing around as Mala Sauce Cookie tightened the chain.

Rye Cookie called your name multiple times, but her voice still did not pierce the ringing in your ears. You could see in the corner of your eye that she had one of her guns pointed towards the infected Cookie, but the other hand was gently gripping you and shaking you. Trying to break you from your stupor.

You couldn't. You could only stare. Stare at Caramel Arrow Cookie bleeding on the snow, and the blue liquid that was dripping from the wounds on her.

Pure Vanilla Cookie,

We've learned that the first signs of infection tend to be a blue type of liquid dripping down from the wound. This happens when the infected either bites down on the victim, or in some way, manages to get the blue liquid in another way. I theorize that this blue liquid replaces the jam in a Cookie once they turned.

In unfortunate news, Caramel Arrow Cookie has become infected and Black Raisin Cookie has succumbed to the infection. While Caramel Arrow Cookie is being kept on strict lockdown, it was found that, somehow, Black Raisin Cookie was managing to escape from the quarantine zone.

Before she succumbed, she spoke of how guilty she felt to not be able rescue Pancake Cookie sooner. As such, she was sneaking out to try and get him acorn jellies. I suspect she is the reason why they have frozen over. Unfortunately, this is all we managed to get out of her before she turned into an infected right before our eyes.

I luckily had Chili Pepper Cookie and Capsaicin Cookie nearby, so they were able to subdue her. I am waiting for a response from our ruler on what to do.

On the subject of them, I have been told that they are in quite a bit of shock, unable to process what has happened. As such, I am recommending that Orchid Mantis Cookie and Mala Sauce Cookie be assigned as their personal guards. I also request Pink Velvet Cookie join Chili Pepper Cookie in guard duties, and Buddha's Hand Cookie help our ruler work through what has happened.

Respectfully,

Espresso Cookie

Pure Vanilla Cookie sighed heavily as he rested the piece of paper down on the table. Even with his eyes closed, he looked down at the letter with uncertainty. He tapped his fingers against the wood before he turned his head. The air in the office was cold, as everything was now, but it seemed colder than usual.

He thought back to you, and how out of it you were when you were brought back. You merely stared blankly, not responding to anything. Practically catatonic.

The healer hung his head. He wished his friends would be here soon..

taglist: @speadrunner / @haveneulalie / @queensharotto / @imaginarydreams / @luv-sorrow

Orchid Mantis Cookie - @valioz

Pink Velvet Cookie - @kousaka-ayumu  

Buddha's Hand Cookie - speadrunner

[fadingdaggerr]

all bark, some bite - l.w.

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader (no pronoun or name use for reader)

summary: parents’ weekend is a time of stress, especially when an addams is now a student, and her mother and the principal have a fun little history behind them

warnings: fully using morticia as a plot device (sorry tish baby i luv u), suggestive ending

note: i have no idea what happened to this fic

the closer parents’ weekend grew, the more antsy larissa became. she typically has gone over every little detail three, four, five times by now. every year she takes great consideration into everything, wanting the parents to see the nevermore in all her glory, down to having every knickknack in every common space dusted and polished to perfection. but this year felt different. the tension in her shoulders was tighter this year, her pacing more pointed, her sleep dwindling by the day, and if none of this was enough, the now eight rechecks of plans was starting to look a little crazy.

when the day arrived, she was somehow more tense than she had been for the last two weeks. usually once the day began, she had been confident and excited, but today, she fiddled with her wedding band nonstop, watching as parents arrived and greeted their children.

walking up beside her, i lean in so my voice only reached her, “everything looks great, baby, relax a little bit. the students look happy, the schedule’s fun, you look stunning as always, everything’s in order.”

“you have got to stay close by me at all times,” is all she says.

“as much as i would love that, i have to be in my classroom to answer parent questions for the first couple hours. but, i would love to sneak in a visit my favorite girl,” i smile to her, pressing my lips to her clothed shoulder, and i can see some tension reduce a little.

“i will be holding you to your word on that,” she grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. i pull her hand to my own lips, returning the favor, not missing the way her eyes light up.

in their mini tours, many of my students brought their parents to my classroom. most got a full report of the class from their children, meaning i was just there to deliver pleasantries, admittedly spruce up the behavior of some students when parents asked, and accept compliments on my book collection.

tall floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the west-facing wall of my room, a rolling ladder allowing me to reach the very top shelves. the top shelves were reserved for only the greatest of my collection, the rare and beautiful ones. books the students enjoy were closer to their reach, the ladder being a no-go for any of them. i always kept books larissa loved at her own eye-level, she had yet to notice it was on purpose, so her little excitement was a special treat whenever she gazed at the shelf.

after two hours of meetings that ended with a lively conversation with eugene’s moms, i thought i would finally be able to retreat back to wherever larissa may be. as i started to head out the door when a familiar, dark presence blocked my path to the hall.

“hello, wednesd-”

“principal’s office, now.”

“i’m doing great, thank you so much for asking wednesday,” i say monotonously, “and why am i so kindly being summoned to the principal’s office?”

“i’m saving her, and by proxy, you, a headache,” and she leaves. a hefty dose of ‘no context’ from wednesday addams, no day is complete without it anymore.

i make my way to larissa’s office, knocking gently before peeking my head in, “riss?”

“darling, what are you doing here?” she asks as she moves from her desk and makes her way over to me, both hands grabbing mine, pulling me closer.

“wednesday addams. she sent me here to ‘save you and myself a headache,’ whatever that means,” i say with a shrug, placing a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“i hope we don’t find out,” her hands moving, arms wrap around my waist, my own going around her neck.

“me neither. a nice, headache free day sounds phenomenal,” i say while adjusting the chain of her necklace, “how has your day been, my angel?”

she lets out a deep breath, “probably about as interesting as yours so far, but i would say it’s much better now,” she finishes her sentence with a short kiss to my lips.

i hum in agreement, and just as i go to pull her back in, there’s a knock as the door. we jump apart before larissa calls for whoever knocked to enter. the door opens, and i see a woman, dressed in a long, black gown enter the room. she’s smiling with adoration at the shorter man next to her, love for the woman evident in his gaze.

larissa’s eyes widen as she freezes in place. this is what she had been dreading, morticia addams.

the woman looks back towards the room, “larissa!”

“morticia! lovely to see you.”

ah, the headache, i think to myself, just as she begins to approach me. wednesday looks more homicidal than usual, and i can’t help but share the feeling.

“why hello there, morticia addams,” she sticks her hand out for me to shake. before i can introduce myself, she speaks again shutting me down, “and this is gomez, my husband,” gomez grabs her hand, kissing up her arm, muttering terms of endearment in spanish, “and my son, pugsley.”

“well, it sure is certainly nice to meet all of you,” my smile is fake, but morticia doesn’t seem to notice the insincerity, so i continue, “wednesday is fantastic in my literature of the macabre class. she has been at top of my class since she started, which has not been unexpected.”

i almost feel as if i’m bragging about how well my own child is doing in class, and i can see as larissa smiles softly at my words.

“that is fantastic to hear, our little viper is a master of the macabre,” gomez praises his daughter, the action making wednesday scowl harder, but making me smile slightly.

the addams’ sat across from larissa, i stood to larissa’s right, offering her support with my presence. discussions of wednesday’s academics and extracurriculars continued for a little bit. i stayed quiet for most of it, happy to be with my wife, also hoping i could be a buffer between her and morticia. i had been filled in, well before we got married, about how cruel morticia was to larissa later in their academy years. i also stayed for wednesday, who wouldn’t admit that she needed someone else in her corner when her parents were around. all conversation came to sudden halt when morticia let out a gasp.

“how could i have not seen that? larissa, you never mentioned you had gotten married,” she grabs larissa’s left hand, pulling it close to look at her ring. a shudder moves down my back at the contact.

“it wasn’t relevant the last we spoke, and before that we hadn’t seen each other since we graduated, so why when would i have said anything?” larissa is calculated in her response, letting me know this interaction had been something of worry to her.

“goodness, when did this happen? must not have been long ago, or else i would’ve heard, i’m sure,” morticia responds, and i almost laugh at her certainty.

“it’s been seven years as of september, as a matter of fact. and we were together for five years before that. it was a very private ceremony, we only had our closest loved ones in attendance,” larissa answers as she pulls her hand back, looking at her ring with a soft smile, a light blush painting her cheeks at the memory. i bite my tongue to hide my own smile.

“private ceremony, private answers, not even a photo in here larissa,” morticia gestures around the office, and the anger in me grows slowly.

“with students, staff, faculty, parents, and even law enforcement regularly in my office, i would rather not have my personal life on display. what’s mine is private,” she says the last part lowly, a warning to morticia that she must tread lightly, but her tone ignites a fire in the pit of my stomach.

this warning is noted by a raised brow, but is violently ignored when she looks larissa in the eye with a pathetic frown and says, “please don’t tell me you settled?”

larissa’s face immediately grows dark, her hands flattening against her desk, she starts to rise out of her seat. to avoid a small war in the middle of the office, i take a step forward and speak in her place, “i believe ‘settling’ is more of a subjective concept,” my eye contact is sharp and unwavering, “in my opinion, she most definitely did settle, outrageously settled. but from her words, at the very least, i would say she does not share the same sentiment as i do,” the emphasis on ‘very’ has larissa’s head whipping my way at the innuendo, “some would say marrying your high school sweetheart is settling, but i’m not one to judge,” pugsley snorts, wednesday’s eyes shoot to him in a playful manor, clearly enjoying this just as much,“well, not one to judge often, as my mother used to say, ‘everyone has a taste, whether or not they should have be pickier is up to the heavens.’ quite the phrase, don’t ya think?”

morticia’s mouth shuts immediately, her eyes shooting to larissa’s to ask for help. she has nothing to offer her former roommate, other than holding back her own laughter.

“anyways, i should be on my way, poetry club meeting starts in 30 minutes, and i have to get the room set up for the parents,” i say with a smile towards the addams. “it was lovely letting you mister and missus addams, you too pugsley. i will see you in class next week, pretty please remind enid to read the chapter, do not give her the gist of it,” i point to wednesday as i speak, “and you,” i turn to larissa, “i will see you at home,” i kiss the top of her forehead to end my goodbye, my left hand on her shoulder, matching wedding band on display.

i pat her shoulder once more before walking towards the door, i turn to look at her, right as i’m about to close the door and blow her a kiss. she smiles softly and rolls her eyes at my antics.

“anything else you would like to discuss?”

— — — — —

my day, thankfully, ended after the poetry club meeting. a side road only a couple miles past the campus gates brought me to a dark green, two story house with brown trim. a wrap porch with vines growing up after years of free roaming, but neat from snipping and reshaping them when they got unruly. this wasn’t just some house, it was the home larissa and i now shared.

getting home, my shoes slid off before i even unlocked the door. keys were on the hook, bag on the seat by the door, jacket on the peg, shoes thrown on the floor. i make my way go our bedroom, purposefully going to her closet for a sweatshirt, grabbing a light grey one, and a pair of my own sleep shorts from my top drawer.

larissa comes home silently while i was a focusing on not burning the vegetables in the pan. she follows a similar pattern to me, only neater and quieter. i don’t notice her presence until i’m adding the vegetables to the sauce, and two long, pale arms wrap around my middle. i continue my task with her draped around me, stirring the vegetables in, spinning the spice rack in search of oregano and red pepper flakes.

“you are trouble” i laugh at her opening line, “at the very least, huh?”

“children were present, and in my defense, those particular ones have definitely heard much worse from those horn-dogs,” i say like it’s nothing, making her laugh this time. “and you’re one to talk. ‘what’s mine is private’? good lord, riss,” i jokingly fan my face, and she laughs harder.

“i stand by my statements,” she pinches my side, “especially the one where i disagree with you on me settling. i don’t settle, if i wanted to i could’ve long ago, but i waited for the right person and found you,” she whispers the end into my ear.

“and look at you now, with a much better last name,” i add the noodles to the sauce, “could’ve been missus larissa antoinette weems-fru- LARISSA!” i squeak as a hand smacks against my ass, laughing immediately.

“don’t even start, gods you even brought the middle name into it,” she laughs with me, her head resting against my shoulder.

i pick up a sauce-drenched noodle on a spoon, raising it to her lips, she gladly takes the bite, groaning happily at the taste. biting back a comment about the noise, i start to prepare dishes to serve on. larissa stays glued to my back, following each of my steps around our kitchen.

“i may need you around for more parent-principal meetings, especially ones involving… particularly difficult cases,” larissa says into my neck, avoiding the use of morticia’s name, as if it would summon her if spoken.

“you name the time and place, i’ll happily be wherever you need me. i can be like your guard dog,” i laugh a little at the notion.

“perhaps a ‘beware of dog’ sign outside my office may be needed,” she jests as she pulls away to set the table.

with dinner finished, and a bottle of wine later, larissa and i lay on the couch together, my fingers weaving through her hair as her head rested on my chest, her hands wandering every now and then from my abdomen, down my legs, and back up. i scratched my fingertips against her scalp, a noise just short of a purr comes from the back of her throat. we stay in this silence for a while, relaxing from the day, knowing tomorrow still had a slim chance to be incident free. loving her and being loved by her was all there was at this moment.

her head raises from my chest, i also pout at the loss of the comforting weight against my chest. tired, larimar eyes find mine, and i feel my heart skip a beat, her beauty has never failed to surprise me. someone like her, someone this beautiful, chose me.

she stares a little longer before sweetly saying, “you’d make a horrible guard dog,” and my jaw drops slightly, i’m utterly gobsmacked. i had been expecting a loving comment, or even a lustful one, not whatever this was.

i look at her for another moment before gathering my thoughts. i piece together the only thing that feels right to say at a time like this, “what the fuck?”

“you’re awfully cute, darling. i don’t think they’d find you scary,” she leans down to kiss the middle of my chest through my (her) sweatshirt, then looking back up at me. she made a point, i was not nearly as intimidating up front as she was.

larissa was intimidating just to look at. she’s gorgeous, tall, and clearly professional. she could talk her way out of anything, and just as easily talk her way in, just with her wit. all of this, this perfectly sculpted image, could be brought down by a little beetle crawling on the wall. a beetle i would be called in to crush, but instead would end up being guided onto a paper towel and released back into nature.

“well, they’d be mistaken then. and apparently so are you. you’d think my own wife would know me better,” i scoff, but the smile on my face betrays the feigned attitude. she laughs, and smile grows wider and wider. “i’ll let this insult on my character slide, only because of the wine, and definitely not because i love you so much,” i continue, and she groans playfully.

she puts her head back down on my chest, arms giving me a squeeze, “i love you more, and seriously though, thank you for being there today. and just so you know, for the rest of this weekend, you are not leaving my side.”

i chuckle, “as if i could even dream of it,” wrapping my arms around her snugly, “you know stuck with me forever, you’re the one who put a ring on it,” i pepper the top of her head in kisses as she tries not to laugh.

her head nudges up, she buries herself in my neck. i hide my own face in her soft hair, inhaling her scent. i feel her lips pressing along the column of my throat, moving upwards. little nips marked the trail to my jaw, kisses as she moves to the side more. one final tug of my earlobe by her teeth brings me back to full attention. her voice lowers, “how about i show you at the very most how much i love you?”

bit of a longer fic to make up for the lack of them in the last week. feedback is, as usual, appreciated greatly :)

[maskyish]

Re:vale LIVE 2023 WINTER FESTIVAL!! - 1st Intermission Talk (Part 1)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Please note: I am NOT a professional and my level of JP is very, very basic. I do this for practice and to share with other fans for fun. Please take my translations with a grain of salt as there may be mistakes. If you see any, please let me know and I can correct them. If anyone else has this card and wants to translate this at any time then please feel free to do so!

Re:vale: Happy New Year, everyone! 

Momo: I’m Momo! 

Yuki: And I’m Yuki! 

Momo: And together—! 

Yuki: We’re Re:vale! 

Audience: Kyaaaaa!!

Momo: Thank you for coming to the “Re:vale LIVE 2023 WINTER FESTIVAL!!” today!! 

Momo: I’m ultra happy to be able to start the New Year off by seeing everyone! Let’s all make it the best year ever together! 

Yuki: Our juniors have brought us through the spring, summer, and fall seasonal lives, so shall we tie it off? 

Yuki: We’ll have to make it a worthy live to finish on. Can you all get excited with us? 

Audience: Kyaaaaa!!

Momo: WHOA, so lively! It seems like you’re all ready to go! 

Momo: Then to start us off, let’s show off our outfits! 

Yuki: I’m sure everyone's curious about them, too.  

Momo: If that’s the case, then here’s Momo-chan reporting from the scene! 

Momo: Yuki-san, what are your thoughts on your new outfit? The word on the street is since it’s New Year's, it has a kimono design! 

Yuki: That’s right. I quite like the feel of the fur. And best of all, the cloth covers everything but the face, so it’s a good way to keep from the cold. 

Momo: Ahaha! I see! Then the new outfits are perfect against cold weather too! 

Yuki: Yeah. It’s also perfect for stuffing warmers in the clothing.

Momo: That’s…. Shhh! That’s something secretive! It’s embarrassing to sing with such a cool face while having body warmers stuck everywhere! 

Yuki: Then just scratch that. 

Momo: You’re posing as if we can cut it out (1), but isn't this a live broadcast– or rather, a live concert?! 

Yuki: ….. Momo, do you think I’m uncool with my warmers? 

Momo: Never! Even with warmers covering your whole body, or if you're curled up into a tiny ball in front of a heater, Yuki is the most handsome man in the entire world! 

Yuki: Fufu. It’s fine then. 

Yuki: Next up, please tell us the points of your outfit you recommend, Momo. 

Momo: Let’s seeee… I guess it’d be the mix of Japanese and Western clothing! 

Momo: It’s hakama-style (2), but there’s a fur jacket on the top, plus the belt and chain and stuff is super fashionable right? 

Momo: Although, it makes it a bit difficult to put on! 

Yuki: Oh yeah. It took you quite some time to take off the gloves. 

Momo: Exactly! During the fitting, I couldn’t even take them off by myself! 

Momo: We really pulled and struggled to help each other undress! 

Yuki: We had to get changed really quickly today so we had to get the staff to help us out.  

Momo: It would’ve taken us way longer if we did it on our own!

Momo: But also, isn’t this stage amazing? Re:vale finally built a castle! 

Yuki: It really is amazing.

Momo: So, this may be sudden, but here’s Momo-chan’s Quiz for Yuki! 

Yuki: That really was sudden. What is it? 

Momo: What’s my favorite thing about this stage? 

Yuki: For this stage…? 

Yuki: …. Isn’t it our castle? During our rehearsals, you looked really happy and took a lot of pictures. 

Yuki: You were happy like you were lord of the castle. 

Momo: You remembered me in so much detail, Yuki…. The points are through the roof…! 

Momo: But… not quite! 

Yuki: It's something else? 

Momo: Of course I like the castle too, but… I like the snow (3) the most! 

Yuki: Snow…? 

Momo: I’m so happy I get to start the year singing on a snow-covered stage with Yuki!

Yuki: Fufu…. What a cute thing to say.

Yuki: In that case, the next time we do an outdoor concert we'll have to have some peach blossoms planted. 

Yuki: Since I also want to sing on a peach-covered stage with Momo. (4) 

Momo: Yuki……! 

Yuki: Let’s have another live when the peach blossoms bloom. It should be a bit warmer than it is now. 

Momo: You have a point! But, it’s still cold…… So for now, let us warm you up with our songs!

Momo: Next up will be a song that will slowly warm your hearts.

Yuki: “t(w)o…”

~End of Part 1.~

TL Notes: 

This card has little chibi versions of the characters talking so their facial expressions and poses change, so during this part Chibi!Yuki is crossing his arms into an X, as if to say “Cut!” 

Hakama is a traditional type of Japanese clothing that is worn over kimonos. You can find out more information about them here. 

This is a play on words off of Yuki’s name since 雪 (yuki) means snow so there's a double meaning here.

Just like the previous note, this is a play on words off of Momo’s name now since 桃 (momo) means peach. The literal translation for this line would be something like “I also want to sing on a stage surrounded by Momo/peaches.” but I worded it to pair with Momo’s line before it so it would sound a little more natural while still keeping the double meaning. 

And thank you @hunieday for helping me reword some of the lines~

[the-blackholeus]

Pt2 of yandere shredder?

(I am so sorry I take so long posting things. It's a mixture of being a lazy ass and the acostumazation to the work life. I will try to better myself, promise. Anyway, hope you enjoy this.) 

"Oh, my dearest [Name]. I finally have you all to myself again."

His deep voice sent shivers down your spine as you trembled in the chair you were chained to, your chest shuddering violently with rapid breaths. You flinched as his fingers, dressed in deadly leather gloves, gently traced over your cheek, running down until he was able to wrap his digits around your chin.

"You have no idea how much I missed you.", he purred as he forced you to lift your head, you e/c eyes meeting his. "How much I yearned to see you, to smell you, to hear you." Gently, he connected his lips with yours. "You have no idea how devastated I was when I heard about your disappearance."

You didn't answer and just yanked your face from his grasp. It hurt, as your neck had become rather stiff in the many hours you were already sitting there, forced to face the most dangerous man on earth that, once again, roamed free. Shredder just chuckled at your reaction, his smug smile turning into a full-blown grin. "Ah, I see that your stubbornness has remained."

"Fuck you!", you spat, glaring at him with all the hate you could muster. "Fuck you and your fucking clan."

He hummed, unfased by your words. "Such vulgar language coming from such a pretty mouth.", he tutted and clicked his tongue, reaching out to let his fingers run through you hair. "It seems that in the time of my absence, you have forgotten your manners."

"I haven't forgotten my fucking manners! I just learned that I don't have to take this shit from you.", you growled, clenching your teeth so harshly it hurt. "You bastard treated me like trash, like a fucking toy! You wrecked me, destroyed me on every way possible........ It took me years to get where I am now, and I will not let you destroy me again!"

Shredder did not answer right away and merely lifted his eyebrow at your outburst, surprised by this sudden aggression. He did not know you like that, and he did not like it. Not. At. All.

"Yes, you have.", he hummed once he regained his composure, his expression souring. He reached out and forced you to look at him again, leaning in close so that his lips hovered just above yours. "And it is such a shame. But...no matter..."

The digits of his other hand gently warped around your neck, daring you to move a single inch. He positioned himself above you, his strong physic claiming the majority if your field of vision. The corners of his lips twitched upwards again, and his pearly teeth flashed in the dim light of the empty room you were brought to earlier this day as he chuckled, stretching his neck so your mouth was not even an inch apart. "I just will have to teach you again."

And with those words, he crashed his lips upon yours, forcing his tongue past your lips.

[sophiaredwood03]

Chains and Crystals

Hi Hi!! I havent written a fic in a very very long time, so I have really finally written one! I've been suffering from like creative burnout, and burnout in general, so it has been a struggle to get back into writing. For the uninitiated, I usually give a long ramble before my writing, haha.

I like this idea a lot! my usual idea-giver, @atomsminecraft , gave this to me, a while back. (at my main post, at the submit ideas). It is quite angsty? not really, but there is very slight action, if you can call it that. This is a much longer fic than what I usually write, at 1401 words

It is basically an imagined scene, from the perspective of a Vanum woman called Nova, who sees our MC enter the caves? prison? of Iritium. btw, MC's name is not mentioned, but Christoph is here too.

Anyways, enjoy! Comments are, as always, welcome! Happy reading!

Cold. Dull. A sensation that seeps into the bones and leaves nothing but a chill so deep and potent that my body is numb. A monotony of feelings and repeated actions. If I squint hard enough, I can imagine the crack on the wall is a rabbit. Closing my eyes, I see the rabbit flying, chasing after imaginary butterflies. Wind blowing, sun blazing, on the hill of the Church of Vane. It is the only thing I can do, to numb, to dull the sting of captivity, to keep my mind from running off and plunging into the sea called insanity.

Freedom.

Nothing but freedom.

Who am I, you ask? I do not have the answer to that question myself. All the things that were integral to me- all that made me me. I only know that my name is Nova. I only know that I am of the people of Vanum. I only know that I was kidnapped and brought here, to this Creator-forsaken place, in a time beyond remembrance. 

I have forgotten what I was like, to be free. I turn the word over and over in my head, in my mouth. The sweetness and fragrance of honey mingles with the bitterness and cold that hails from derision, of the jeers of our captors. 

A bang halts my musings. “Get up, get up, you lazy, good-for-nothings! The first shift is starting!” Straw falls onto the cave floor, poking out through the holes in the thin bag. The bags shifts and sags as I get up. More straw falls out, and the stench of damp mould arises from the floor. 

Pat-pat-pat, pat-pat-pat. The sound of our footsteps resound in the caves. A sea of white hair, of eyes like jewels, in every colour of the rainbow. Eyes full of despair, of regret, of longing. Sorrow has taken her permanent abode here, dwelling in all of our hearts, twisting and choking us. Dragging us down into a inky blackness filled with lost time, with memories of happier days flitting past our minds like butterflies, like the spark of a fire, only for it to be extinguished as quickly as it came to life. We dare not even to hold the slightest sliver of hope, of a life beyond the reach of Iritium. 

The chains rattle and the chill seeps into my bones once again. A older woman presses against me; it is easier to keep warm this way. One by one, like lambs to the slaughter, harsh hands and biting words drag us forward. To drain our magic, to steal our vitality. I see our eyes reflected in the ever-growing pile of crystals. One, two, three, four…How many, how many have been made? Surely, hundreds upon thousands of glittering crystals. A pretty sight, truly. How much blood, how much time have they cost?

How many lives. 

That is the true question.

I shudder, and my mind seems to revolt at the mere thought, reeling and pulling at it, like a most obstinate weed, or a parasite. It comes out, covered with blood, and a sense of deep despair.

“Let me- Let the child go!” 

It is a cry that pierces the heart, a cry of righteous fury,  tinged and infused with the bitter herb that is named despair.

The child, a young boy. Surely no older than ten springs. How is it that a child is here? For children do not live long, down here beneath the earth, along with the rocks and the dirt. He clings to her, hides his face in the folds of her black skirt, one hand clinging to the fur coat that has fallen on the cave floor. Is he her brother? Undoubtedly not her son, unless the lady has concealed her age behind the facade of her youth. 

“Chris…Stay back.” 

He peeps out from behind her, and I see a flash of white, glittering eyes. Like polished silver, unearthly and otherworldly. More exquisite eyes from one of the House of Vanum I have never seen.Does he have such power, that even the Iritium would desire it, and take the risk of bringing such a child from the world above? A very beautiful child, indeed. Features so clear, he could have been made from clay, or even glass. He looks to me to be a sweet, sensitive soul, from the way his gaze falls on her, a gaze of worry, of love.

“Hmph.” The guard’s eyes are devoid of any emotion whatsoever. “There is no escape from here. Not even for you, descendant of-”

Her glare is so fast, so sharp and cutting, that he falls into silence immediately. There is a flash of something, something old, something almost feral, in her eyes. Power. Strength. Magic. 

“... Give me that choker.” 

“...Fine.” 

A stone, as red as the blood moon, pinned to the middle of a loop choker, is placed onto the rough, outstretched hand of the guard. He glances at it. There is a sudden flash of red against the backdrop of the cave, then a thousand red shards appear just as suddenly. They spill down the cave wall, like a shattered storm.

“Make a crystal.” His growl is low, menacing. I shiver, though not just from the chill of the air.

I cannot see her face, but the cold, almost mocking laugh is enough for me to picture her expression.  

“You little b-”  He shoves her roughly, raises his hand, magic crackling-

Faster than I can blink, the guard is lying on the ground, clenching his leg, writhing in agony. Blood seeps between his fingers, pooling beneath him, dark and glistening.

I can see her face now. Her slender frame seems taller, more commanding, towering over the guard. A high, sweet voice, flooded with rage. There is a spot of blood blooming on her lips, trembling with the sting of indignation. Waves of soft umber frame a heart-shaped face, wild and unkempt, yet beautiful at once in defiance, before they are flung back past her shoulder by a haughty toss of her head. Loveliness incarnate. 

“Oh? What-” she bends over him, her movements deliberate, calculated- “were you going to say?” Her lips almost raise into a snarl, eyes burning with anger. Her words are venom, dripping with fury and disdain. Cutting through the damp, heavy air of the cavern, so sharp and commanding that even the whispers of despair seem to recoil. The guard writhes on the ground, clutching his leg where blood seeps through his uniform. The stone floor drinks it hungrily, crimson spreading like veins through the cracks.

Oh. Oh. Those eyes.

“Don’t you dare touch me. Dare again?” It is a challenge, hidden in the clever guise of a question. She smiles. Her gaze is fire, molten and unrelenting. The man shudders, and the air seems to rear up, chilling and biting to the touch, to the flesh.

“The council will hear about this! You shall be-” His face is infused with rage, twisted and snarling, like a feral dog.

“You must be a fool if you think they will dare lay a hand on me. Hah!” she scoffs, her tone ringing with the undertones of disdain. “You should know who I am. Too precious, too important, to their-” she spits the last word out, almost like a curse, “work.”

The guard freezes, her words landing like blows. His bravado falters, his twisted snarl giving way to a flicker of something darker. Fear. The guard gives her one last, lingering look, filled with seething hatred, mingled with the scent of uncertainty. His retreating footsteps echo in the caverns.

The boy slips out behind her, squeezes her hand. She passes her hand over his hair, over and over again, with silken tenderness. She leans down, whispering something in his ear. Something in a voice so low, we cannot hear. The other prisoners strain, then stiffen. 

We see her.

It is like a wave, sweeping over us, crashing straight into the gates of our hearts, unlocking something long forgotten and as fragile as cobwebs, born of love, and soft murmurs of dreams in the dark. Hope.

Eyes,  darker than the deepest onyx, blacker than the endless void of the night sky, deeper than the abyss, gaze right back at me. At us all. The whispers come back to me, the stories of old. 

 For the descendant of Vane, of The Creator, has come.

[broodwolf221]

for dadwc, could i request “Hold my hand for a second. It won’t kill you.” for morrigan/leliana? bonus if smutty :p

okay this one was fun uwu im love them @dadrunkwriting 1249 words cws: none very smutty. much smut.

“Morrigan.” She bit back a sigh, straightening up from where she'd been tending to an herb bed to face Leliana. She had been expecting this.

“Leliana,” she replied simply. The other woman was… transformed. The lighthearted young bard Morrigan had traveled alongside, somehow bold and gentle at once, was now wary and analytical. The years had hardened her, an armor that had settled across her skin.

“What are you really doing here?” Wary, indeed. Though she supposed it was quite understandable.

“As you can see, I am tending to the garden.” She knew it was not the answer Leliana sought but was curious about her response to the deflection, eyes narrowing.

“That is not what I mean and you know it.” Her voice had a brittle quality to it now, where once she would have been fondly exasperated.

“No?” She tilted her head and blinked before smiling, done playing the part. “It appears not. Very well, I shall answer your questions, should you ask them plainly.”

“Why did you join the Inquisition?”

“If you will recall, I was handed over to the Inquisition,” Morrigan answered simply. Leliana scoffed, unconvinced.

“Naturally. And clearly you had to follow orders, could not have left of your own free will. In chains you were given to us, and in chains brought to Skyhold, is that it?”

She shrugged. “Where else should I have gone? Back to my mother? Or perhaps you imagined me building my own hut, raising my son in secrecy as she did? I was no longer welcome in the Orlesian court, nor would any other part of Orlais care to harbor an apostate.”

“All mages are apostates now,” Leliana pointed out flatly and Morrigan couldn't help but laugh, earning a faint scowl from the spymaster.

“‘Tis true, but of those ‘apostates,’ how many still wear Circle robes, hold themselves to Circle values? No, I am an apostate in a way that will never be tolerated in polite company. The Inquisition is as much refuge as it is opportunity.”

“‘Opportunity’?”

“Indeed. Think what you will of me, of my reasons, but there is nothing to be gained by letting a would-be god claim dominion over our world.” She took a step nearer and Leliana did not back away. “There was a time when you trusted me to do what was right,” she said softly. 

“And then you left,” Leliana's voice was quiet enough to not carry, but no less venomous for it.

“I did,” she admitted. “But… ‘twas you who left first.” For the first time, Leliana looked away. “Why come to my fire so many nights? Why ask me for tales, share your own, only to leave when I finally invited you to my tent?”

“I… could not join you.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Ah, yes, more the fool I. Failing to understand that the ways of flesh would shift your Maker's gaze from you.” Morrigan was surprised by the hurt in her own voice—she had thought this particular pain long since past. Leliana's poise seemed to falter for a moment.

“I was naive,” she admitted softly, still not meeting Morrigan's gaze. “And arrogant, believing myself to be His chosen. But He did not choose me. I have learned to accept that.”

“Pity ‘twas not in time,” she said acerbically, Leliana wincing. But a moment later she straightened, meeting Morrigan's eyes pointedly.

“There is time yet,” she said. It was quite the unbelievable statement. “Should you still will it.”

“You are full of surprises, no? Is this your new way to spy on recent acquisitions?” Leliana smiled at the question, the bright, mischievous smile Morrigan recognized from years past.

“Only those who catch my eye,” she teased, voice low. “Have you time now?”

“Ah-”

“Take my hand,” she continued, “it won't kill you.” Her smile remained the same, Morrigan swallowing before taking the offered hand.

Their fingers laced together and Leliana led her through the keep to a simple room. Morrigan glanced around the spartan decor, faintly surprised to be brought to the other woman's chambers directly, although she supposed there was nowhere else fitting.

With the door shut and bolted behind them Leliana turned to face her, pulling her hood back to reveal the vivid shade of her hair, slightly mussed. They were still holding hands, Morrigan letting herself be pushed against the cold wall.

Then Leliana kissed her.

At first it was gentle, searching, curious—but it quickly became heated and demanding, her free hand slipping between them to stroke across Morrigan's bare stomach. She pulled back just enough to speak: “do you want this?” The question made her laugh again.

“Only for years. You are late enough as it is, do not stop now.” She pressed into Leliana's touch, watching as the woman smiled before kissing her again, her hand shifting up until it grazed the simple top Morrigan wore. It took no effort for her to slip under the scant fabric, holding her breast while her thumb dragged back and forth across her nipple. She shivered under the ministrations, gasping into the kiss as Leliana slotted their legs together.

They finally broke the kiss as they started to grind against each other, Morrigan pulling her hand free so she could use both to explore Leliana's curves before settling on her ass, dragging her forward into every thrust. 

She didn't think this would feel so good, although part of it may simply be that it'd been a very long time. But Leliana's shaky moans and sighs were thrilling and Morrigan was already soaking wet, each thrust against the other woman's leg driving her that much closer to the edge. Despite this, it was Leliana who came first, thrusting fast and hard before suddenly stilling, her hips stuttering forward a few times as she gasped. “Don't you dare stop,” she growled, using her grip on Leliana's ass to continue dragging her forward, rutting shamelessly against her leg.

After a few moments of that she sighed, frustrated, and pushed Leliana gently away. “Lay down on the ground.” The woman frowned before doing as she was bid, watching as Morrigan settled atop her. “Now raise your knee like—yes,” she gasped as Leliana's tense thigh pressed against her groin, each thrust dragging her wet smallclothes across her cunt, a slick tension that just brought her that much closer. “Just like that,” she managed as she ground hard against the other woman, sometimes slipping down to press her clit against the clothed spur of Leliana's hip.

After some time Leliana reached back and abruptly pulled Morrigan's one leg higher up, grinding against it again. “Greedy little bard,” she teased, feeling Leliana shiver under her. A moment later she gasped as she was forced onto her side, both of them moving desperately against each other, until finally that sweet edge approached and Morrigan let herself fall, arching against Leliana as she rode through the orgasm, shivering as she slowly came down only to find Leliana still seeking her own finish. “That's right,” she whispered, “show me how much you've wanted this. Spill against me again. I want to hear you cry out my name as you come.”

“Morrigan,” she barely managed, sounding utterly shocked and needy as she jerked hard against Morrigan's thigh.

They laid tangled together while they slowly caught their breaths. Then Leliana rolled away with a giggle, Morrigan arching a brow. “Well. Maybe next time we’ll actually manage to get undressed first.” Now she smiled, too.

“That would be preferable, yes.”

[instantfoxdonut]

Had to write a poem for ELA class and decided to post it here.

Dear PRIDE,

You have helped me get through some of the harder moments in my life.

You may have caused me fear, sadness, and insecurity, but you have given me good things as well. I never seemed to fit in no matter where I was, who i was with, how I looked, or felt.

My own feelings didn't even seem to fit inside my chest.

I was sensitive.

Meek.

Alone.

I was told my feelings were different from others. That mine were "unnatural", "abnormal", and "unacceptable".

I was forced into a role that I had not signed up for. I wasn't ready to take the stage and be a part of that story.

Would there be an end? Would the curtains draw closed and finally let me play the role I wanted? Would I ever be free?

I was given no answer.

They preached to me that I could change my thoughts and mind or else I would be destined to burn deep within the pit of hypocrisy.

My heart.

My freedom.

My body.

I may burn but one thing shall never be lost to ash,

Pride.

I was trapped, strapped to a chair while being force fed stereotypes, prayers, homophobia, sexism, and hatred.

Watching as other girls were scared or beaten straight and be bound to eternal suffering just because of what or who they love. Feeling the amount of freedom I had left shrink and close in around me.

Having to read from a book that I couldn't bring myself to have faith in.

Being told to fit in from others as they spouted their opinions at me one after the other.

Having to wear dresses, skirts, and bows like a porcelain doll to do nothing more but stand to the side and desperately seek attention to be admired.

Not being seen as a person.

Having the influence to put minerals on my face and to nearly starve myself to death just for the sake of being "normal".

It was torture.

That was my life until I met you.

You brought me out of my monochrome world and gave me a more colorful existence instead. I found peers that didn't judge or shun my way of thinking or beliefs.

I was allowed to express myself, dress how I wanted.

To be able to cut my hair, cut my shackles and chains, and have blonde streaks.

To not have to look "feminine" or be perfect like other girls that would strive themselves to be that way.

Turning themselves into living barbies just to be "loved" as they say.

I wasn't going to do that to myself and also because of myself.

You made me feel accepted, understood, wanted, loved,

"Normal".

It felt so freeing being able to be wear my own skin and not have to fill and cover it with plastic and bubble wrap.

Not having to think about carving away at my own skin until I am nothing but flesh and bone.

Not having to wear a mask upon my face.

No longer having to be as insecure.

To be free.

Thank you, Pride.

Sincerley,

Me.

[zigcarnivorous]

Finally I reached the first thousand dollars in my campaign but I was able to reach it after a month and a half, our goal now is to reach two thousand dollars but faster because time is short, it is unfortunate to ask for money in this way but it is life, I cannot save myself but you can save me, help me to evacuate from the war and complete my dream of studying medicine, I am still a young man, 20 years old, I have many dreams that I want to achieve, help me please, share and donate❤️😍🇵🇸🥹

I will do my best, Abdallah🙏 I hope we can get you a lot more than just a thousand dollars, with God's own speed.

I have brought the text from his campaign page, please read his story in his own words.

"I am Abdallah Mousa, I live in Gaza. I was completing my studies, but unfortunately the unimaginable happened. The war came and took everything from me and my family. I extend my hand to you from the depths of despair that we feel while we are in Gaza in the midst of war. Memories of a life that was once peaceful, full of love and security have been stripped away by the merciless horrors of war. Not only are my possessions lying in ruins, but the pain, agony and humiliation inflicted upon us are beyond the reach of mere words

Our journey has become a haunting odyssey, and the burden of rebuilding our lives and escaping the darkness prevailing in this war-torn land is insurmountable. As ordinary civilians not affiliated with the conflict, my family and I yearn to

To be free from this nightmare.

My university was destroyed and my dreams were destroyed with it. I want to escape the war to find safety and complete my education and my dream of studying medicine.

The harsh truth is that the cost of escaping is staggering - $7,500per person. For those of us desperately seeking refuge, this amount represents an overwhelming barrier, threatening to imprison us in this suffering.

In our quest for safety and a semblance of normalcy, I turn to you, my fellow humans, for help. Every contribution, whether big or small, is a lifeline that can pull us out of the abyss. Join us in breaking the chains that bind us to this torment.

Be a beacon of hope for Abdallah Mousa and his family. Your support is not just a financial contribution. It is a lifeline to freedom, security and a future free from the horrors of war.

We will use this money to take additional measures to enter Egypt and escape the war.

With the weight of necessity in my heart,

We deserve to live."

-Abdallah Mousa

❤️🖤🤍💚

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

A Study of Tattoos

@house-of-mirrors here's my fic for you for the @fallenlondonficswap! I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,290

Summary: An academic has an encounter with a spy, and can never go back.

Contains: The great game, Judgements, tomb-colonists, the khanate, permadeath, and brief mentions of zailors and implied intimacy.

Ao3 Link

It has been weeks since I saw her.I was not supposed to open that door. She had been redressing, pulling her blouse back on when I noticed them. Dozens of tattoos covered every available inch of skin, some overlapping even, like the sketching book of a Bohemian who could not yet afford a fresh one. My mind has since become that sketchbook. They fascinate me. I look for tattoos everywhere I go now, hoping to catch a glimpse of more. Sometimes I do.

I have found out more. She was a surface runner. A spy. Staying in the Neath for as minimal time as possible so as to not die, and lose her usefulness. My accidental involvement with her has set off a chain reaction which I do not understand. A chain reaction which I must understand. Ripples have consequences. 

My final term is nearing an end. My professor, a demanding man who always oversees every minute detail, is demanding a long-form research project. I will choose the coding of tattoos to demonstrate my academic expertise.

***

I have made an error. Examples of spy tattoos are hard to find in full for one simple reason: It is vital that they be decoded only by the intended recipient. Even after one is put onto the body and then delivered, it may still be decoded by others to find out a plan. I had to figure out a method that would enable me to find these tattoos.

I bumbled around Wilmot’s End for near to a week. I would pin any spy I could recognize as such with conversation, like an amateur entomologist clumsily practicing on an abundant species. I realize, only now in the aftermath, the flaws in my method. At the time however, I was stumbling through, unseeing, blunt and broad in my brushstrokes.

I did not realize what would be the consequences of my actions. The game I was playing was not long enough. One of the spies began to spread such a storm of scandal that my own professor booked me a ticket to the Tomb-Colonies! As such, I leave today.

***

I have been here a week now, and made friends with a very old Colonist. They are dead now. I watched them crack open, like a cocoon made not of silk, but rather of dusty bandages. Before they died, however, I was permitted to see beneath those bandages. I had been explaining my thesis, and how my attempts at finding samples was what brought me here, when they told me they had something that might help. Indeed they did.

As part of my research, I had studied tattoos extensively. In addition to the time I spent in Wilmot’s End, I had also spent an entire week staking out Clathermont’s parlor, watching those who came and went. When the Colonist unraveled their wraps to show the aged parchment of their skin, I saw tattoos and symbology I had never come across before. I took very detailed drawings, noting everything from direction to color to location.

***

I am back at the University. The Colonies gave me the time and space to think. I took some gifted rags back with me. I wrap myself in them now, and keep a scytale of my notes. Depending on where I choose to wrap them, I can disguise many messages.

***

I have gone through the entire libraries of both Benthic and Summerset. They contain hardly anything about spycraft, and even less about what it looked like before the Fall of London. This place is hindering my research more than helping it. I will go back to the Tomb-Colonies, this time of my own volition. I tire of things happening without my understanding of how or why. I will learn, and I will grow.

One of my classmates is a pawn. He is clearly a spy, but he never operates of his own free will. Is there a way to, in this game? If so, I will find it. If not, I will become it.

***

Once more I am here among dust and moths. A Tomb-Colonist who reminded me of my Aunt spoke with me. I ended up asking her about older tattoo works. She pointed me across the Zee.

“There, in the Khanate. My granddaughter traveled there once. Its people are descendants of those who escaped that last fallen city.” She gave me some of her wrappings, to fill the gaps in my own. I thanked her.

I will spend the remainder of my time here, constructing a false identity with which I may enter the city.

***

I wonder. Was I pointed to the Khanate by chance? Am I still part of someone else’s schemes? Perhaps, like a puppet that resents the one who claims to be her master, I will take up a blade, sharp and precise, and slice off both blindfold and bindings in one neat cut.

***

My disguise is complete now. The Kindly Colonist had parting words for me.

“They will use every last part of you. Death, true death, will not be the end. They will use your memory to haunt and persuade others. They will use your tombstone as a dead drop. They will use your dying breath to pull in another. You cannot love or be loved. Travel safe, and if you do try to escape… Do not do it partway. You cannot have a foot in each world.”

She gave me a small cloth bag. There is a scrap of irrigo fabric inside, which causes a fog in my mind.

***

I have found a captain willing to zail my false identity East. I study the crew’s backs and shoulders, looking for ink.

***

My disguise has held so far. It is a good thing I have learned not to be reckless. My second day in port I saw a junior pawn removed by the White and Golds. I have a growing distaste for them. I played shatar for much of the day. Unlike London, tattoos are kept much more secret here.

***

I intercepted a message today. I danced with a charming woman all night long, and used our intimacy to make a study of her tattoos. The shapes themselves are smaller here, but still just as detailed. They know how to prolong usefulness. The symbols are different as well, though I see similarities reflected in the tattoos of the zailors who brought me here.

***

Last night I dreamt of a chessboard. I was clothed in ruby armor. A man in ivory approached me.

Once within arm’s reach, the world around me transformed into a glittering castle. I could see checkered fighting out of the windows.

Someone guarded him off to the side. He talked carefully and with precision, and explained many things. How he was interested in my development, how I moved across the board quickly for a mere pawn. How he had arranged all of this. His eyes were blue like snow as he dropped carelessly back onto his self-proclaimed throne.

His right hand twisted, and marionette strings tightened against my limbs. I grew furious. I did not want to be controlled. He was not allowed to manipulate my life.

He spoke of bleaching my ruby vestments, and his eyes gleamed. They glowed such a bright light, in fact, that it burned to look upon his shining throne.

My fury kept me grounded. I wanted nothing more than to snuff out that bright white light. I snapped my strings, and all at once, his castle folded and faded, like crumpled notes.

A man who reminded me of someone I once knew rushed up to me. His armor was deep ebony. I looked at my tattooed limbs, and saw that so was mine.

I woke up.

[icedcoffeeandcreatine]

You turn 18 and life doesn’t have rules anymore. Home isn’t home it’s just another building you fill your time with. Sleep is either an escape or a prison. I’m lawless now and I’ve never wanted to be controlled any more.

How I long to be 6 again and the worst thing is being forced to go to bed at a decent hour. I wish I could tell my younger self, with every hour you see on the clock you meet a new version of yourself. It isn’t as pretty and gracious at you hope, rather it’s full of fear and self doubt. No matter where I run I will always remember my past.

My memories will haunt me like a lovelorn ghost and I can try and try but I cannot forgot the dreams I had at 9. Her dreams will stalk me and pierce my mind nightly when I finally begin to have rest.

I will be plagued with the knowledge that at 11 I dreamed all these dreams and I have come to fulfill none of them. That I am a complete failure to my childhood self and she is none the wiser to the future she must suffer through or the person she will inevitably become. I must watch as she is put through the same mistakes I made while I am silenced from making a change. I cannot escape her, she follows me with her naïve dreams of simplicity while I am chained to the curse of reality.

I am forced to know every detail of my friends when all I used to care about was if they were free on Friday mornings. Now I know every sin, every wrong they have made and worse more is that they analyze every flaw I ever dreamt of having.

I am buried with the wishes of my 15 year old self who only ever dreamed for someone to love her. She begged the skies and prayed every second of every day for someone to see her, to know her, to want her. But she was only met with horrid people who wished her harm and were the catalysts that brought upon her ruin.

But I must sit back and watch this happen, I am no longer in control. I cannot interfere with this cruel world’s rules. It plays a far greater game than I and I haven’t a guidebook to this mess.

I know one day I will look back on my days of 17 with a grief filled fondness and wish I could have been wiser, stronger, more bold and less cautious.

But for right now I am horrifically 18. With a wry laugh I whisper to myself “I’m an adult” I wished my life away. I no longer can afford to dream like little girls dream, of fairies and mythical creatures who may save me from this wretched world. But I must dream of bigger things. Careers and colleges and lifelong goals. Oh how I wish I could go back to those days. Do it over. Do it right. Just please, do it all again. But alas, my alarm is going off and it’s time to get ready for work.

*I put down my phone and start mindlessly preparing for another day in adult world, slipping soundlessly into insanity as I wait for someone to save me*

“The torture of aging” (sentences highlighted in red for emphasis)

May 15, 2024, 1:43 am