#glitter just looks so tasty

[crystalpop]

Just two guys enjoying some glitter

Benzene belongs to daichizemoff on twitter

[redflannelsheets]

.

[cece693]

Kiss, Marry, Kill

pairing: jasper hale x male reader tags: human reader, jasper being hurt over small things, Emmett being his joking self, party games, crack fic?

Streamers of gold and cream swirled from the high ceiling of the Cullens’ mansion, and the soft glow of fairy lights made everything look like a magical dreamland—well, at least to your human friends, who couldn’t stop gawking at the place. For you, it was home away from home. After all, you spent so much time here with Jasper that the polished floors and glittering chandeliers had become more familiar than your own dorm room.

Still, tonight felt different. It was your birthday—the last you’d celebrate with a beating heart. Next year, you’d be fully immortal, forever attached to Jasper’s side. But first, you had a party to survive.

You had just finished eating a perfect slice of birthday cake (courtesy of Esme’s unwavering drive to make it tasty for even someone who despised cake) when Jessica's voice boomed across the music:

“Birthday boy! Get over here! We need you!”

Her tone made you freeze. You recognized that brand of enthusiasm. It usually meant trouble or embarrassing party games. With a resigned sigh, you left the comfort of the food table and found Jessica huddled in the living room with Angela, Mike, and a handful of other curious onlookers.

“We’re playing Kiss, Marry, Kill,” Jessica announced, flipping her hair as if she was unveiling some grand plan. “And you’re up first!”

Your stomach sank like a stone in a lake. An array of wide, excited eyes turned your way, including Mike’s—who offered a sheepish wave. You prayed to whatever powers exist that Jasper wasn’t within earshot. “C’mon, Jess,” you said, forcing a laugh. “Don’t you think I’m too old for this?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re twenty-one, not eighty-one! Besides, Emmett is all fired up just hearing about it.”

You heard a low chuckle from across the room. Emmett, leaning casually by the DVD shelf, flexed his biceps with a wink. Rosalie smacked his arm in mock annoyance. Great—there went your hopes of keeping this discreet.

“Alright, fine,” you relented, your cheeks heating. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jessica cleared her throat dramatically and raised a tiny notebook where she’d jotted down names. “So, Kiss, Marry, Kill…” She paused, letting the suspense build. “Mike, Emmett, and Tyler!”

You snorted. Of course she’d drag Emmett in. And Tyler? The guy who you briefly had a fling with before getting with Jasper? Oh boy, now you desperately hoped Jasper wasn't even in the house.

“Okay,” you began slowly. “Let me, uh…weigh my options…”

Immediately you thought of killing Tyler. No way would you announce you'll hypothetically kiss or marry him, it was tough enough to break your friends-with-benefits relationship. You didn't want to give him false hope when that ship has sailed. Mike was potentially clingy, might send you heart-shaped candies on Valentine’s Day with bad puns, but he was overall harmless. And Emmett, there would never be a boring day in your life, it was Rosalie you were worried about. She'll definitely kill you if you even dared to steal him away.

As these thoughts zipped through your mind, you realized the circle of friends was waiting with bated breath. “Alright,” you said, “if I have to choose, I'll kiss Mike…”you said, pointing lamely in his direction.

You heard him choke on a soft, “Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at Emmett, who was now wagging his eyebrows. "I'll marry Emmett. He’s entertaining, funny, strong, and got a great sense of humor..." you rattled off, trying not to laugh as Emmett bounced in his spot like a child. “You hear that, Rosie? I’m marriage material!” Rosalie simply rolled her eyes.

"And I'll kill Tyler. No offense man, but you did almost take out Bella with that van years ago, so maybe it's karmic justice. Rest in peace.”

While your friends erupted into laughter, especially at the idea of your 'marriage' with Emmett, you maneuvered your way through the crowd, itching to find Jasper. While it was merely a game, you knew it would rub your cowboy the wrong way to hear you'll marry his brother. Looking everywhere for him—his room, the kitchen, the living room, hell, even the bathroom—you had just returned to the kitchen where Edward suddenly flashed in front of you.

“Jeez, Edward!” you exclaimed, pressing a hand to your chest. “I'm still human, remember?"

He just shrugged with a knowing smile. “He’s in Carlisle’s study. I’d go talk to him if I were you.”

His expression told you everything you needed to know—Jasper was not in a good mood. With a nod, you headed toward the study, ducking under a few gold streamers.

You found Jasper sitting at Carlisle’s desk, arms folded, staring intently at the wall. His blond hair fell into his face, casting shadows across his darkening eyes. The moment you stepped in, he flicked his eyes up, then away, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to see you or avoid you.

“Jazz?” you said softly, closing the door behind you. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

His expression darkened as he let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t act like you don’t know. I heard everything. You’re apparently planning to marry Emmett now.” Though the jealousy stung your heart, his wording was so ridiculous you almost snorted. But one look at his face told you laughter would not help.

“It was a joke, Jazz. You know that.”

His Southern drawl grew sharper. “A joke, sure, but it sounded pretty convincing. You did have reasons lined up for why Emmett would be such a great husband.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious right now?”

He held your gaze, frustration and hurt swirling in those golden irises. “If you wanna go marry him, go ahead,” he said bitterly. “It’s your birthday; maybe that’ll be my gift to you—freedom from me.” You took a breath, forcing yourself not to snap back. He was centuries old, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally having the emotional meltdown of a teenager.

“Jasper, you know I love you,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “The only reason I said I’d marry Emmett is because Tyler and Mike are the other two options. And I definitely wasn’t going to marry them.”

He ran a hand through his honey-blond hair, exasperation evident. “Still. Hearing you talk about Emmett like that…it wasn’t pleasant.”

“I’m sorry, but in the game, someone had to be Marry. And I—”

A loud creak announced a third party: Emmett barged in, wearing the dopiest grin. “Hey, fiancé!” he crowed, waggling his eyebrows.

Jasper’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Emmett, I’m really not in the mood.”

Emmett tossed his hands up. “Okay, big guy, cool it. I just wanted to see if the wedding was still on or if I should start ripping up the invitations.”

You blushed furiously. “Emmett, get out!”

He laughed but obeyed, tossing a mock salute as he backed out, calling down the hallway, “Hey, Rosalie, we’re canceled… I mean, no, I’m not actually…It was a joke—don’t give me that look!”

When Emmett finally left, the door clicked shut, leaving you and Jasper alone again. You watched him quietly for a moment, noticing how his shoulders slumped with residual tension. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, stepping closer. “You mean everything to me—this game was Jessica’s silly idea, and I just got roped in. I swear, I never would’ve said it if I knew it’d hurt you.”

His jaw worked, and you could see he was trying to contain the waves of jealousy. You placed a tentative hand on his arm.

“I chose Emmett mostly for comedic effect, okay? Mike is…Mike, and I have history with Tyler. If I’d said I’d marry him, I’d be sleeping with one eye open. Emmett was the lesser evil.”

A flicker of amusement ghosted across his face—very brief. “So, you really don’t wish you had a ring from Emmett?”

You nearly laughed. “God, no. I’m sure Rosalie would kill me if I tried. And I only want your ring, anyway.”

He exhaled, some of the tension leaving his posture. Carefully, you slid your arms around his waist, feeling his cool body against yours. “You’re the one I want,” you insisted. “Always. Soon, we’ll be bonded forever—vampire to vampire. That’s bigger than a wedding.”

His eyes softened, and you could tell he was tuning into your sincerity—possibly even reading the waves of guilt and affection roiling off you. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” he said quietly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I just…don’t like the idea of sharing you.”

The door swung open again, this time revealing Alice, Bella, and Edward peeking inside—like a cluster of meddling siblings. “Are we good here?” Alice asked, twirling a piece of confetti between her fingers. “Because the party’s over, and I’m thinking of scheduling a no-more-dumb-games vow for the next birthday.”

Bella attempted a sympathetic smile. “We tried telling Jessica that it might not be the best idea.”

“Also, Emmett’s writing up a wedding registry,” Edward piped in, wry amusement in his tone. “You might want to stop him before he goes too far.”

Jasper let out a disgruntled sigh, rising from his seat. “I’ll put a stop to that.” You followed him out, hand in hand. The tension of the evening lingered in the air, but the weight was lifting, replaced by relief and some lingering embarrassment.

Back in the foyer, Emmett was dramatically dictating a registry list to Rosalie, who stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Definitely want a waffle iron, and maybe a lifetime supply of hair gel for the big day—”

Jasper cleared his throat, and Emmett turned to see the two of you standing there. “Aww, the happy couple!” he teased, pressing his hands together.

“Emmett, enough,” Jasper hissed, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and swatted Emmett with a leftover balloon. “You’re impossible.”

You let out a chuckle and caught Jasper’s eye. The corners of his lips lifted in a soft smile—an olive branch of sorts.

Alice, never one to miss a cue, fluttered over. “Now that the crisis is averted, how about we officially call it a night? There’s more cake on the table if you want it, but I doubt you do,” she teased, knowing full well none of the Cullens would partake.

“I might,” you joked. “Still human, remember?”

Jasper slid an arm around your waist, leaning down to press a cool kiss to your temple. “You might be human now,” he whispered, “but soon enough, we’ll have our forever.”

You smiled, heart full and light. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

[naffeclipse]

Taste Test

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm back once more for a lovely little request from @counterbalance who wanted Y/N and Mer Eclipse to play a little game involving food, taste buds, and guessing! This was a sweet little treat to write, ah! Eclipse loves his yummy fish and deep sea delicaties but Y/N has a few tasty morsels from on land to try and stump Eclipse with.

———

The sea is gentle with its waves. Softly lapping against the side of the Rustbucket II, the water holds still and calm. The late evening light burns golden over your boat. Looking out the small window of the cabin, you watch the glittering shards of light dance over the smallest stirrings of the ocean. 

A small shiver comes over you. Tucking your thick wool coat tighter around your sweater and overalls, you sit at the humble wooden table slotted into the narrow space. Your fishing boat is far from glamorous, but it has always served you well. 

A familiar, kind pulse fills the space of your ribcage, and you smile.

“Hey, big guy.”

The resounding swell within you answers, and you nearly close your eyes to soak in the vivid desire he holds to scoop you up in his palm and gently nuzzle your face.

But not right now. You two are playing a game. The leviathan has tucked himself away in his cavern so there is no chance of cheating—not that he would. It’s just that his big eyes tend to stray over to whatever you’ve prepared for the game when he’s lingering along the surface, and you can’t help but turn your head towards whatever catch he has thrashing in the water.

Now that you’ve learned just how acutely you can share things over the magical bond of your soul connection, you’ve developed a guessing game.

Four bowls spread over the tabletop before you. One holds small bites of beef jerky, another salty nuts, the next some dry fruits, and lastly, a bowl of ice cream that’s beginning to melt. 

“Are you ready?” you whisper to the air, concentrating on the great warmth in your middle. 

A resounding heat rolls through you. You feel the splashing excitement beginning to surge through him, and then a wayward thought of what meals he’s chosen before he cuts those off from your presence.

“Nothing is spicy, I promise,” you say quickly.

A pouty swell moves through you. Of course, you don’t eat spice often simply do not torment Eclipse with the wicked heat on your tongue. But you will warn him whenever you’re about to enjoy a meal with a kick to it. 

The first time you had unknowingly subjected him to such an experience, he had been confounded by your willingness to subject yourself to such painful torment as cayenne pepper. 

You first.

Eclipse nudges you gently, and you sit up straighter in your seat. You pluck a bit of beef jerky. It’s a bit more expensive than you’ll usually splurge on, but you want to feel his reaction to a lump of meat that is not fish. 

Popping it in your mouth, you begin chewing. You throw all your concentration into the flavor filling your mouth, savory and rich. You chew and chew, your molars working on the tough and dried meat. 

You feel Eclipse in the distance. His jaw unconsciously works with yours. You keep your thoughts close to him as if you drew a curtain around your mind, but he feels the sensation in your mouth all the same. 

He knows that you don’t have it a lot. It is saved for only rare occasions.

Something once alive.

“Correct,” you say around your morsel.

You feel his mind working, jumping from textures of fish he’s caught from a large, elderly whale to an armor-crusted deep sea creature you have no name for. 

His guess jumps into you. The latter fish he thought of. 

“Sorry, that’s not it.” You swallow the bite with a grin. “It’s beef jerky. It comes from a cow.”

He pouts, a lighthearted tide touching against you. It’s not meant to be easy, but the point is to feel each other’s thought process while taking from their own experiences and trying to decipher something the other has never tried.

My turn.

“Go ahead, big guy.” You sit back in your chair. Closing your eyes, you focus on the inner tugs of your soul. 

Eclipse lifts something to his mouth. He takes one big bite, and you frown at the texture. You feel it slipping over his tongue as if it were your own. You’ve sensed such a sensation before. 

Oh, this is easy.

“Squid,” you point your finger upwards in an ‘ah ha’ moment. 

A pleasurable flow moves through you. It would have been sad had you gotten that wrong, considering that it’s one of his favorites. Not that you can imagine eating squid in such a fashion.

In-kind, you move on to the salty nut. Tossing a handful into your mouth, you hardly have a second to chew before Eclipse correctly guesses the food. It’s a favored snack of yours. 

Too easy.

You huff out a breath at him before he dines on something else. Something new. You frown at the unique texture. It’s supple but rich in flavor. Lean and strong. Eclipse chews it with delight before swallowing it down.

“I… I don’t know,” you manage, stumped. “What is it?”

You are impressed upon with visions deep in the blue sea. Then there are silverfish. Large compared to you, but bite size for Eclipse. The long, flattened bills give away what they are.

“Swordfish.” You never would have guessed.

Eclipse rumbles in delight though admits he doesn’t usually eat them. They’re too much of a pain to catch, but he wanted to win you on something. 

You laugh.

“Cheater.”

He rebuffs you with a promise that he would never, and you reassure him that you’re well aware. You just wanted to pull his leg—or tail.

You taste the dry fruits next. The natural sweetness bursts over your tongue though kept contained without the juices. Eclipse makes a face, finding it leathery and strange.

He has no answer until you reveal it to him. 

The last food from Eclipse has him buzzing. You stir with his energy as he sets something in his mouth, and it crunches. You almost flinch from the great sound. It’s meaty as well. 

“Clams?” you ask, though you’re grasping at straws. “Mussels?”

Eclipse trills inwardly. Wrong. Wrong.

Then he gives you an impression of a crab, a great deep sea one that almost looks too alien to walk this earth. 

He got you again.

You straighten and grab a spoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

Eclipse immediately stills, his curiosity piqued while you spoon up a small bite of chocolate ice cream. It begins to pool the bowl, but it retains its cool richness. 

You take the bite and slowly swirl the ice cream around with your tongue. The sweet treat immediately sends a shiver down your back.

You feel Eclipse shudder with the sensation, but his frills pick up and his presence burns within you in delight.

He loves it, though not any brain freezes that might come with it

Ice cream.

“It sure is, big guy,” you grin. “Do you want to share some more?”

His resounding answer makes you laugh softly.

[cerys-scribbles]

sweet on the tongue

Halsin x f!Reader A bit of fluff and yearning Wordcount: 1.5k

You always looked over the abandoned wagons and backpacks. 

It was an old habit, born of a time when coin was scarce. You’ve always had an eye for shiny things - the gleam of jewelry, the graceful curve of a gem, and the glitter of a bottle. You never knew when you might find a small treasure.

Some of the others mocked you for it. Astarion, in particular, seemed to enjoy the sight of you rummaging through crates. “Your pack is so full you’ll have to find a rothe to carry it,” he called, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth. 

“I can carry my own pack,” you replied, with a dismissive wave. “And what do you care?”

“Merely concerned for your posture, darling. If you become a hunched over crone in your thirties, it would be a tragedy.” 

You snorted. “That’s rich, coming from the one with the outdated vocabulary and the white hair.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “It’s not white, it’s silver.”

“Children,” called Gale. “You’re going to get left behind if you dawdle.”

The others had continued on. The path wound through the mountains, toward the Githyanki creche. Lae’zel was far ahead, her long strides carrying her forward with a grim determination. It was no wonder she was eager; the prospect of ridding yourself of the tadpole was an intriguing one. But even so, you felt the pull to pick through every crate. 

Your diligence was rewarded when you found a gleam of gold tucked within a sack. You pulled it free. It was a jar.

“Come on!” called Astarion, and you hastily shoved the jar into your own pack. You would look at it more closely later. 

*

It was hours after, once camp had been set up, that you investigated your finds. You picked through the small trinkets, sorting through which ones could be sold and which ones discarded. You were so single-minded that you didn’t notice the smells of food or call to dinner. It was only when someone stood over you that you looked up. 

Halsin towered over you. The sunset gave his hair a golden cast, and he was smiling. “You’ve been busy,” he said mildly.

You sat back, only now feeling the ache in your lower back. “Oh. I was distracted.” You gestured at the piles of trinkets, feeling mildly embarrassed. Would he think it was silly? “Did I miss dinner?”

“I set some aside for you.” Halsin put the plate down on a fallen log. It looked like a surprisingly tasty stew. “It’s a little cold.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Thanks for bringing it.” It shouldn’t have surprised you that Halsin was the one to notice you weren’t eating; he was observant in camp, quiet and watchful. His tent was pitched along the outskirts. Part of you wondered if it was because he wished to remain near nature or to make himself the first line of defense should anyone attack camp. It was likely both. 

He squatted down, eyeing your finds. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?” He reached out, gently sifting through the knotted chains and one half of an earring.

You flushed. “I just… you might have noticed I tend to pick things up.”

“I had noticed, yes,” he said, a touch of dry humor in his voice. But there was no mockery to it. “Do you sell them?” 

You shrugged. “It helps. I can buy a little food, maybe weapons or medicine for camp. We can hunt, of course, but we still need things. And it’s not as though we have a noble patron.” You snorted. “Well, we do have Wyll, but I know he’d protest that title.”

“He would,” agreed Halsin. “He seems far more happy being the Blade of Frontiers rather than a duke’s son.” He tilted his head, gaze flicking over the assortment of trinkets. “Can I help?”

“I mean,” you said, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His gaze met yours and you felt another flush rise to your cheeks. “It’s better to have something to do with one’s hands.”

You both began to work, untangling chains of necklaces and sorting through your findings. There were coins from several cities, jewelry that was junk and one piece that might sell, along with forgotten letters. You set those aside. “I’ll give them to a messenger or the like if we reach Baldur’s Gate,” you said, when you caught Halsin’s eye. “Maybe those letters will reach their destination.”

“That’s kind of you, to carry them without any hope of reward.” 

You gave him a little shrug. “It’s not as though they weigh very much.”

“Still,” he said. “You have a good heart.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Halsin disarmed you in a way that none of the other companions could. There were no deceptions, no games to played, no secrets to ferret out. Halsin was simply… Halsin. He was undemanding and kind. 

And all right. He was gorgeous—you’d admit that to yourself. You’d had a few fantasies of him picking you up and kissing you, but you tried to tamp them down. You didn’t want your desires to leak into your conversations and make him uncomfortable. You were friends and that was more than enough.

Finally, you pulled out the jar. You had almost forgotten about it. “What is that?” asked Halsin. 

You held it up to the fading sunlight. “Preserves, I think. Whether or not they’re edible… well, I’m not sure how we find out.”

Halsin chuckled. “Opening it would be the first step.”

It took a knife and a fair bit of prying to get the jar open, but the moment you did, your mouth watered. 

Raspberries floated in a thick, golden liquid. They had been preserved in honey. The sweet scent floated out of the jar and you swallowed. 

“Well, well,” said Halsin. “A pleasing find, if my opinion matters.”

You remembered what he had said when you tried to get to know him better: that he enjoyed sweet things. “You can have it,” you said, holding out the jar. 

He shook his head, a smile on his lips. “We’ll share it.”

You didn’t have a spoon, but Halsin had a few carved ones in his pack. He unearthed it and you gasped. It was intricate and beautiful—a woven pattern made up the handle. “It’s gorgeous.” You knew he whittled, but this was a work of art.

He looked pleased but embarrassed. “I’ve had much practice. It’s yours, if you like it.”

You dipped the spoon into the honeyed raspberries. Then you popped the spoon into your mouth. Tart sweetness spilled across your tongue. You closed your eyes and moaned softly. Perhaps you should have found a loaf of bread or something else to cut the cloying sweetness, but you did not care. It had been weeks since you enjoyed anything so luxurious. 

 “Oh, it’s amazing,” you said, holding out the jar to Halsin. “Try some.”

His gaze was not on the jar—but on you. “You have some,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. “May I?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but even so you nodded. You trusted him. 

His thumb—warm and callused—slid across your chin. A small tendril of honey had stuck there. “Oh,” you said, laughing a little. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” He licked the honey from his thumb—and you could have sworn his pupils dilated as he looked at you. “It tastes all the sweeter.”

Heat churned in your stomach. You knew you should break that gaze, look away before this became all too intimate, but you didn’t want to. Your breaths quickened, and you thought you saw his gaze fall to your mouth. Was he going to kiss you? At once, your lips ached for it. You needed his touch more than you needed air or warmth or even a cure. 

His fingers brushed your cheek. But before he could utter a word, a voice rang out from across camp. 

“I can see you eating something over there!” called Astarion. “If you get sick from fare you found along the road, I am not carrying your pack.”

The mood was broken in an instant. You looked down, half-wondering if you had imagined the moment. 

“You won’t have to,” called Halsin sounding as good-natured as ever. “I’ll carry it for her.”

You swallowed. Perhaps you hadn’t imagined it, after all. 

End

[dedfly]

Shadow milk cookie is so yummy I just know it

I personally think he just likes this thingy

Looking very tasty but actually completely unsafe to eat.

Bro probably taste like rotten, spoiled milk mixed with glitter

[her-satanic-wiles]

Bejewelled

Papa Emeritus II x Reader

It’s Papa Secondo’s birthday, and after spending the whole day working, he just wants to relax. But how can he when his favourite Sister of Sin is being a bad girl in front of everyone?

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by @inkstainedrat

Words: 5.6k.

Reading Time: 22 min.

Warnings: anal play, begging, breeding degradation, cock warming, creampie, dubcon, fingering, frottage, free use, groping, hair pulling, mentions of cunnilingus, mentions of fellatio, pain kink, PIV sex, positive degradation, praise, rough sex, spanking, spit as lube, underprepared, unprotected sex (Embrace safety - enjoy it greatly), vaginal sex,

Taglist: @inkstainedrat @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @socksandcr0cs @dio-niisio @duskspring @foxybouquet @likeloversentwined

Thank you to @da-rulah, @angellayercake and @tasty-ribz for workshopping some of these ideas with me and getting me on track!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You settled into your space at the meeting table, notepad opened to the next available page and date written at the top of it in neat handwriting. You had taken on a more secretarial role for the Ministry, providing the reigning Papa with a helping hand as he went about his daily schedule. The other clergy members were already sat and settled like you, cardinal robes of black and red alternating the seats like chess pieces on a board, broken occasionally by the odd sibling of sin who’d, like you, joined to either take notes for their respective bosses, or provide insight on the general running of the Ministry where the upper clergy couldn’t assist. In short, everyone was ready and waiting, conversations slipping past your ears as certain cardinals spoke over you, not to you. But they soon silenced themselves when the door opened and Papa Emeritus II walked through the doors.

Papa Secondo, despite being a softhearted, kind man, oozed an intimidating aura that put men in their place just by his presence alone. Papa Secondo was not a man to be trifled with, played with, or undermined in any way. His word was law, even among his brothers, one of which outranked him in both age and experience. He took no shit, dished out as much as he could, and ultimately threw his weight around in a respectable, yet authoritative way. Just the mere look of his scowl would have your thighs clenching, and heat pooling between your legs - and you weren’t the only one affected by this.

Papa Secondo’s personality was much different to that of his brothers. Before he met you, he would almost never seek a woman out, he’d rarely approach her, rarely proposition her - in fear of making her uncomfortable mostly, but he also didn’t want to blend in with the other men in the Ministry, his younger brother included, who would approach and whine and beg for the ladies to spread their legs and invite him in willingly. Besides, there was something inside him that loved being chased rather than doing the chasing. The idea that a beautiful woman would want him so much, she’d run after him and coyly ask if he’d give her some company later on. That a beautiful woman would want him so much, that she’d face the fear of rejection in front of her friends and potentially embarrass herself, just to get the opportunity to hold him. He’d never approach a woman, but he’d also never reject one either. And, as he entered the room, your eyes darted to all the other sisters who were equally as squirmy as you, the mere proximity being too much for you all to handle.

It always made you feel smug knowing he had such an affect on the rest of the clergy, but would always come back to you no matter what.

Men feared him. Women wanted him. Somehow, the perfect man did exist, and he wore black, glitter paints and silenced a room just by opening a door.

“Buon pomeriggio.” He said, his deep voice quiet yet commanding. He kept his eyes straight in front of him as he entered the room, not bothering to spare a glance to his colleagues until he’d approached his seat at the head of the table and directly opposite you. You were the first person his mismatched eyes had landed on, reminding you that to him, you were the most important person in the room despite your low ranking among his peers. Once he’d registered your existence, he sat down and situated himself comfortably, gloved hands immediately opening his own folder to pull out the important documents for the meeting. Once he’d personally acknowledged everyone else in the room, he cleared his throat and began.

“Ora, we have many things on the agenda today, so I would like to start immediately, by Sathanas and the mother, Lilith, we thank and worship thee as we do ourselves. Nema.”

“Nema.” Came the chorus of the clergy.

“Cardinale Zhang,” he looked towards the man and you watched as Cardinal Zhang startled at the sudden attention. Papa Secondo noticed, and despite his face being emotionless and stoic, a flicker of amusement passed across his eyes, feeding on the Cardinal’s fear. “You have been visiting universities to de-stigmatise the Faith. Update me, how is that going?”

Cardinal Zhang swallowed and cleared his throat doing his best to hide his nerves. He failed, obviously. He began talking, detailing his efforts across the Atlantic in America and how he’d shown up for each of the universities along the East Coast, hoping to break through to the youth. But as a lot of that part of America were staunch ‘Red States’ and Christians, he was met with a lot of resistance.

Secondo, somewhat surprisingly, was understanding with his response. For once, he didn’t criticise the Cardinal’s failure, or what he deemed as such, rather the country’s unwillingness to be open to change. He quickly followed up that comment with another about Salem, and how they were always welcomed with open arms there thanks to the work of previous clergy members who’d moved to set up temples and places of worship.

He then moved on quickly to the next outreach programme, opening the Ministry doors once a month for visitors and tours of the historical building they all called home - another effort of de-stigmatisation that was under the watchful eyes of Cardinal Garcia. His tone softened when he spoke to her, his eyes never leaving hers as he listened intently to everything she had to say. “We get upwards of one thousand visitors per weekend, Papa.” She confirmed in an upbeat tone. “This is a 20% increase of last year. We’re still keeping our entrance fee at 20 Euros for now,” she handed a sheet of paper to one of the Ghouls standing behind her, who then brought it to Papa Secondo to browse at his leisure, which he did, “Last month alone we received approximately 20,080 Euros. Our finance specialists have worked closely with our social media team, and have worked out we may get roughly a further 500 guests next month, an additional 50% growth, which should tip us over the 20,500 Euro benchmark.”

“Can we quantify the impact of these tours on public perception and understanding of our beliefs and values?” Papa asked, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I believe so, Papa. On average,” she handed another sheet of paper to a Ghoul, “30% of guests purchase a membership of the Satanic Church, and organise unholy baptisms. 10% actively apply to work and live here full time.”

“How many of these applications get accepted?”

“Recently, with all the moves and changes of our staff, around 50% got accepted last month. But usually, we only select from the most impressive, which is, as accurately as I can describe it, a handful.”

“Are any of our parishes around the world asking for more siblings?”

“I’m not sure, Papa. That’s Cardinal Smith’s jurisdiction.”

Papa’s eyes snapped to Cardinal Smith, another man who shivered beneath the weight of Papa’s gaze. “Well?” He snapped, expectantly, clearly annoyed by Cardinal Smith’s lack of initiative.

“W-we have had a few requests, Your Dark Eminence.” Cardinal Smith stammered.

“And how many siblings have been transferred?”

“Well, n-none.”

Papa’s eyebrows raised. “None? Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! Perché? Why are you not assisting our unholy siblings?”

“We couldn’t spare the people.”

“Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith?”

“N-no, Your Dark Eminence.”

“Then why do you not liaison with Cardinale Garcia and ask her to accept more applicants to send them overseas after their education?”

“I d-didn’t think.”

“Ah. Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. A brain as smooth as yours must be kept shiny and pristine, sì? Cannot be worried about trivial tasks such as thinking.” His tone softened again as he turned to - “Cardinale Garcia, work with Cardinale Stronzo in providing new applicants for our unholy siblings overseas, per favore.” He turned to another woman in the room. “Cardinale Kim, I would also like you to work on this with Cardinale Garcia and Smith to speed up our applicants education and send them out to their respective countries. When you have the time, of course.”

“Of course, Papa.” Cardinal Kim responded.

“I thank Lilith that there are two intelligent women on this job. Sathanas knows we’d fall apart if it was left only to the smooth brained of us in the room.” He cleared his throat. “Sorella ___,” he said addressing you, “are you getting all of this?”

You didn’t look up from your notebook, wrist aching from all the minutes you were taking. “It would help if you spoke slower, Papa.” You replied, insubordinately. You didn’t need to look at Papa to know he was looking at you furiously. “Either that or let me bring my laptop to these meetings.”

“Your laptop is too loud.” He protested through gritted teeth.

You finally looked at him, a small grin on your face. “Then speak slower. Please.”

He sighed and sat back in his seat, staring daggers into your soul. You were usually so sweet and polite to him - his little angioletta who respected him in front of everyone in the vicinity, who behaved so obediently behind closed doors and thanked him for all that he gave you. You were never bratty to your Papa, never rude or obnoxious. “You’re very audacious today, little one.” He commented, his tone commanding your obedience lest you face a punishment.

You persisted, the idea of dealing with your angry Papa later on too delectable to give up now. Papa would often take his frustrations out on you, an agreement between the both of you allowed him to take your consent and use you as he pleased, whenever he pleased. You would always spread your legs willingly for him, or bend yourself over and arch your back just as he liked without him uttering a single word, and depending on the kind of day he’d had, you’d either be worshipped, or bruised by his daily frustrations. You’d told him through bright red cheeks once that you thoroughly enjoyed him using you to deal with his anger, and so, he would have you whenever he felt even a little bit perturbed. But never were you the reason for his anger, not until today. And the way he looked at you now had your hole clenching around nothing, and a need to push him until he snapped and bubbled beneath your surface. You’d started now, you didn’t think you’d be able to stop until he put you back in your place.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be blamed for missing even a drop of your wisdom.”

The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably as the tension became so thick, you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.

“I’d hold my tongue if I were you, angioletta.”

“But you’re not me, Papa.”

Papa dropped into a foul mood for the rest of the meeting, shooting you angry looks and constantly asking if he was being slow enough for you. But eventually, the meeting came to an end, and Papa pushed everyone out of the room, keeping you in your place. As soon as the door closed, in a harsh tone, he broke the silence. “Angioletta, what was that?”

“What was what, Papa?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me - you know what you did. Sathanas, ___. Since when do you have sass with your Papa, hm? Since when do you show your Papa such disrespect?” He sighed at your lack of answer. He stood and walked over to you, looking down on you as you remained seated in your chair. You weren’t looking up at him, instead keeping your gaze straight on the seat he was sat in before, and he didn’t appreciate this either. With his finger and his thumb, he gently pinched your chin and guided your face to look at him, forcing eye contact with you. “I expect you on your best behaviour tonight, angioletta. Capisce? No sass, no back talk. Just doting on your Papa on his birthday, sì?”

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You said, softly, a smile playing on your lips. Wholesome. Nonsuspect.

“Grazie, amore mio.” He bent down to kiss your forehead then left you alone in the room, seemingly unaware that you’d never actually agreed to anything.

That evening, you dressed in your finest for your Papa, choosing a dress gifted to you by him. It was just something simple, a body con black dress that hugged your curves in all the right ways, paired with a Satanic pentagram harness that he loved to see you in. It was really no effort at all, but your Papa would certainly enjoy you tonight. A feast for his eyes - at least you hoped.

You were one of Secondo’s earliest guests, besides his older brother Papa Primo, arriving at his quarters and knocking on the door before entering. Papa Primo greeted you warmly, and welcomed you in, placing a drink in your hand. You could already smell the dinner coming from Secondo’s private kitchen and felt your stomach growl in hunger. You were so ready for the feast to begin - and for your torture of your Papa to continue. You weren’t just ravenous for the food, especially when you saw him enter the dining room, not wearing his usual robes but still painted in his official paints. His suit was perfectly tailored, cut to each contour of his body, and made from a rich, cold, emerald green. Velvet. Accompanied by a deep green tie and his favourite black-painted fingernails. In his robes he was divine. In a suit? You were feral.

As soon he saw you, you watched as his glittery eyes darkened, and his chest reflected a deep sigh. The second he was beside you, his hands grasped onto your hips and pulled you into him, lips attaching to your neck. He didn’t care that he already had other guests - he didn’t care that he may be smudging his paints. He was too intoxicated by you to do anything other than dig his fingers into the meat of your flesh and inhale your seductive perfume, bewitching him beyond belief. He was ready to drop to his knees and worship you there and then, except you pushed him away.

“I haven’t forgotten how you spoke to me earlier, Papa.” You chided, keeping your voice as level as you could and holding back your giggles when his expression changed.

“Angioletta,” he practically whined, “you promised.”

“No,” you poked his chest, “you laid down the law. I never told you I’d follow it.”

“You want to make me suffer all night, hm? Embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“I never want to embarrass you, Papa. I’d like an apology.”

He frowned. “For what?”

You sighed. “Use that big, wrinkly brain of yours and think.” And with that, you walked away. In truth he had nothing to apologise for and you both knew it. But you enjoyed watching him stew away in his mind, greeting and welcoming guests and trying to maintain a semblance of composure. You were teetering on the line between enjoyment and cruelty, though. And you’d need to end this quickly so as not to actually spoil his birthday.

Secondo’s quarters had never been so lively, but even then, they were lively by Secondo’s standards. To celebrate his birthday, all of the people closest to him had gathered in his chambers, crowded around his long dining table (that he mostly used for work), and feasted on the delightful Italian delicacies hand crafted by the Ministry’s chefs, whom you’d paid extra to cook for everyone for the evening. Amidst the clinking of glasses filled with the Ministry’s own wine, and the aroma of garlic-infused dishes wafting through the air, the place was abuzz with laughter and conversation, but your attention was solely fixed on one man – Papa Secondo himself.

He sat beside you at the head of the table, his natural scowl creasing his glabella as he looked upon his guests and listened to their conversations, responding only when he needed to, but enjoying the atmosphere, nonetheless. His paints were perfectly worn, not a single line bent or crooked, or even smudged with the wine he’d drunk, or the food he’d so gracefully placed into his mouth as though he were the epitome of sophistication - which, to be fair, he was. His Roman nose making his profile so intoxicating, so powerful, you found yourself staring at him, drinking in the love of your life and appreciating him silently for the work of art he was.

Secondo cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room as he prepared to address his guests. “My dear friends, I want to take this moment to express my gratitude for your presence here tonight,” he began, his voice carrying authority and warmth. “Your loyalty and support mean more to me than you can imagine.”

You couldn’t resist interjecting with a sassy remark. “Oh, how touching, Papa,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I almost believe you mean it.”

The room fell into a momentary silence as everyone turned their attention to the unexpected exchange between you both. Secondo’s expression darkened, his jaw tensing as he turned to face you.

“Sorella,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone a warning.

But you refused to back down, your gaze challenging. “What, Papa? Can’t handle a little honesty?” You retorted, your voice edged with defiance. You squirmed in your seat under the heat of his gaze, the unbridled anger that oozed off him like peach juice dripping down one’s chin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you watched him become more and more enraged at your attitude, and you tried so hard not to let your enjoyment show.

Secondo’s eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his features before he regained his composure. “I expect respect in my presence, Sorella,” he replied, his voice low and controlled.

You took a sip of your wine and set your glass down. “And yet, you don’t always deserve it.”

“My room. Now.” He all but hissed. His grip on his glass was choking, and you could almost see it shattering in his hand from the force. You’d done it. You got him. Now was the time to obey. You stood and made your way to his bedroom as instructed, hearing him excuse you both and urge his guests to continue without him. The part where he was announcing that he was going to scold you for your behaviour was missing, but certainly implied, and within a few seconds you heard him chase after you and the guests murmuring in the background, only to be blocked by him slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck was that, hm?” He growled, his hand coming up to your hair and pulling it at the roots, making you look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Papa!”

“Sorry? Amore mio, it’s a little late for that, do you not think? Embarrassing me in front of everyone.”

You laughed.

“Che cos’è questo? Laughing at your Papa?” He stopped, a realisation dawning on him. “Ah. I see how it is. My angioletta is giving into sin tonight? Becoming a whore to anger her Papa.” He released you and gestured to the bed. “Hands on the bed. Now, amore.” You obeyed him for the first time that day, resting your hands on the bed and bending at the waist, exposing your ass to him. You knew what was coming, your core clenching in anticipation of feeling his hand come down on you at full force. You arched your back as much as you could, allowing your ass to pop for him, and hearing him groan in appreciation when you did.

“You wanted to play with your Papa,” he said coming up behind you, “so let’s play, hm?”

His hand came down on your left ass cheek, the sting you enjoyed so much muffled by layer of fabric still (barely) covering your body. The first hit was gentle, barely stinging at all. As angry as Secondo was, he still took his time with you, making sure he didn’t hurt you too much and too quickly. He mirrored this on your right cheek, back to your left, back to your right. Each hit gradually landed harder and harder, and you needed to bury your face into his sheets to hide your cries lest his guests hear what was happening. With each slap, your body jumped in response, as if it was shocked to receive the hits your mind knew was coming. You knew you were getting redder with each slap, which would only egg Secondo on more when he saw it for himself.

He lifted your dress up, exposing your black panties fully and bunching the hem around your waist, and, as predicted, groaned at the sight of you. Secondo was an artist, and you were always his favourite canvas. He began to slap your bare cheeks, revelling in the deep red that was forming on your skin, relishing in the dampened moans coming from you. “This is no punishment for you at all, is it?” He commented, punctuating his sentence with more slaps, now using both of his hands. “You love it when your Papa hits you like this, don’t you?” He slapped you much harder when you didn’t answer. “Do not be rude, angioletta.”

“Yes, Papa!” You responded, your voice coming out as a moan. “I love it!”

“I bet you’ve soaked through these slutty little panties, haven’t you?” He moved his left hand to the gusset of your panties, using his four fingers to rub against your cunt and his thumb rested against your asshole as an anchor.

Usually, he’d be met with your soft flesh and twitching hole, and would tease it over your panties, too, just to drive you wild. But today, his thumb met with something hard, and him putting pressure there caused you to moan out loud. “Che cazzo?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the ridges. His hand, damp from the juices that had soaked your panties, came up to the waistband and roughly pulled them off you, hissing at the sight of him. Buried deep inside your twitching hole, was a butt plug, with an emerald resin gem sitting atop the metal base. “Puttana.” Though his words were degrading, the tone in which he said them was appreciative. He loved this little surprise, his cock growing harder and harder beneath his velvet slacks and begging to bury itself into one of your holes. “How long have you been wearing this?”

“All da-ay!” Your voice hiccuped when you felt his fingers hook around the base and jiggle it.

“No wonder you’ve been acting like a bitch today, amore. You’ve been in heat all day, hm? Did you want me to bend you over the table in the meeting room? Is that why you’ve been provoking me all day?”

“Y-yes, Papa. Want… wanted you to f-fuck me all day! Shit.”

“Wanted your Papa to ruin your holes, hm?”

“Yesss!”

He landed another hard spank on your right cheek with his right hand, much harder than the others. That, coupled with the way he was still playing with the plug, caused a moan to escape your lips, much louder than the others.

You heard him play with his belt, unbuckling it and then the buttons of his slacks, before you finally heard the zipper undo. “Hands and knees, ass in the air.” He ordered. You climbed fully onto the mattress, feeling his hand come down on you more and more as you got situated for him. “Gonna put this fuckhole to good use.”

You felt his girth rub against your folds, getting wetter with your slick with each movement. When he stopped and pulled away, you chanced a glance behind you and watched what he was doing, cunt clenching when you saw his head bowed, a thick glob of spit falling from his mouth and landing on his cock. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the saliva over his entire length before spitting again and repeating until he deemed himself wet enough. He plunged two of his fingers inside you, pumping only a few times to get you stretched out a little more before lining himself up with your hole.

You heard him chuckle darkly behind you. “I’m gonna enjoy this - but you won’t.”

That was all the warning he gave you before he pushed inside you, his considerable thickness stretching you out beyond compare. Usually he’d prepare you more, make you cum for him all over his tongue before he even considered fucking you with his cock. But not tonight. He didn’t have the time nor the will to. This was meant to be a punishment, after all. Prepared or not, you adored the initial stretch every single time he slid into you. He always burned so deliciously, but sometimes there was a hint of pain that sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling and fingers digging into whatever surface you were being fucked on.

Secondo took his time bottoming out, enjoying watching your body tense below him from the pain of it, and smiling at your cunt clenching down on him. “There we go.” He said, gripping onto your ass cheeks as he bottomed out inside you, fingers rubbing over your raw flesh and causing a bigger sting to wash over you. He used your body as leverage to help him slam into you, setting a rough pace right away and knocking the wind out of you. He pulled gutteral moans out of you, deep, animalistic grunts that you had no control over as he fucked into you like a madman finally getting his fix.

The sound of your cunt taking him back in over and over again was so loud, you were sure his guests could hear you from the other room. It made Secondo want to bite you, sink his teeth into you like an apple, and feel your juices coat his mouth while he licked and sucked at your core. But he was pretending that this was a punishment for you - he couldn’t consciously do something that would make you cum. Well, maybe a finger or so later on. For now, you were his to fuck around with, and he could hear and feel just how much you enjoyed it.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this, amore.” He taunted, releasing grunts and growls of his own. “A pain slut for her Papa. Cazzo!”

He pushed your hips down, making you lie flat on your stomach, legs dangling off the edge and making you feel helpless below him. He put his entire weight on your body as he railed you into the mattress, rough, quick thrusts making your body bounce and your ass ricochet off his own hips.

“I don’t like hurting you, angioletta.” A growl ripped from his throat. “But you need to learn how to respect your Papa. Apologise for making me do this to you.”

“I- I’m so…rry, Papa-ah!”

“Brava ragazza.”

Every time you made a sound, he landed another hit on your ass, making you redder and rawer. He loved it - but equally, so did you. Even on the days when he was taking his anger out on you, he wouldn’t often be this rough. He wouldn’t laugh at your cries, or push into you without taking his time with you first. Each thrust drove you more and more insane, degraded you more and more to the point where you felt like nothing but his own, personal fuck toy. His own whore who spread her legs so willingly, she became a desperate slut for her master.

He pulled at the plug again, laughing when you jumped. “So much tighter with this thing in your ass.”

“Papa - it… it’s t-too much!”

“You should have respected your Papa, then maybe he’d treat you delicately, hm?”

“Papa, please!”

“You can take it, can’t you?”

He was met with a loud moan.

“Can’t you, puttanella?”

“Y-yes!”

“Of course you can. Only sluts can take a cock this big.”

You forced your hand in between your body and the mattress and found your clit, rubbing at it while Secondo pounded into you. It was a struggle, and made Secondo laugh at you as you tried. He put more weight onto your body to make it more difficult for you, but you were able to get there eventually and furiously play with that bundle of nerves and work yourself to the edge.

“I love looking at you like this.” He said suddenly, watching your arm move as you rubbed faster and faster. You looked so desperate for him. So needy. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked as he felt you getting tighter for him, the telltale signs making themselves present. “You gonna cum all over Papa’s cock like a whore?”

“Yes, Pa-pa!”

“Merda! Beg for it.”

“I n-need to cum s-oh bad Papa! Please! Pl-please let me cum on your f-fat cock.”

“Oh, just like that, brava ragazza. It’s okay, you can let go.”

Secondo could feel you getting tighter for him, working yourself closer and closer to an orgasm as he took you for his own pleasure, and for some of yours. He should pull out soon, he knew he should, but you were so tight for him in this position, so wet and pliant. He couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out and cum on your body. One particularly rough thrust had you finally tumbling over the edge, face contorting in beautiful agony as you came over him, creaming on his cock and screaming silently into the mattress. He didn’t let up as you came, instead, he used your body tensing as an excuse to go just a little harder, making your orgasm more intense the longer it went on.

Your orgasm had Secondo teetering on the edge himself, staving off his own orgasm to ensure yours felt good. But once he was sure you’d finished, he began to pull out of you, finally working the courage to escape from your clutches. It wasn’t until he felt your heels in his ass, where your legs had bent backwards to keep him there, he realised you wanted his cum inside you just as much as he did.

“Please, Papa!” You begged quietly, lifting your head off the sheets and turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Give it to me. I want your cum inside me so fucking bad. Please!”

“Yeah, amore? You want me to knock you up, is that it? So desperate for her Papa’s cum she wants him to breed her like a bitch. Been in heat all day, still acting like a fucking animal.”

“Give it to me, Papa! Cum deep inside me, please!”

“Okay, angioletta. Papa will give you what you want.” He pushed himself deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, you ready?”

“Yes! Yes, Papa, like that!”

“Cazzo!” A string of expletives followed as you talked him through it, continuing to beg him for his seed while he pumped it deep inside you. He gripped hold of you, your skin and fat pinched tightly under his strong, masculine hands as he grasped onto you to keep him grounded while he reached nirvana. He bent forward more, his forehead rubbing against your shoulder blades and paints transferring onto the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care about that, enjoying the feeling of his erratic thrusts as he fucked his cum into your sensitive heat until he eventually rolled to a stop, laboured breaths ringing in your ear despite his mouth being so far away.

“Sathanas, ___.” He groaned, keeping his full weight on your body, too exhausted to move. “Mi farai morire.” You felt his lips kiss your shoulder blades, the dull feeling bringing warmth and comfort to your adrenaline-filled body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, equally as exhausted as him.

“No.” He replied with a giggle, which you echoed. “I can’t move anymore.”

“That’s okay, we can wait here for as long as you need.”

“The guests, amore mio.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

He groaned. “I don’t have the strength.”

You laughed at his joke.

Somewhere inside him, he found the strength to pull out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He rolled off you, and lay on his back, allowing his body to flop into any position it deemed comfortable. You didn’t know how he did that, you could barely keep your eyes open.

He looked at you before rushing to the bathroom to get a damp cloth to clean you up, gently wiping at your sensitive centre to try and help you. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

“Nothing I didn’t want, Papa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

He placed the washcloth on the bedside table and pulled you into his arms, finally kissing your lips for the first time.

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You whispered.

Before he could respond, a knock at the door sounded gently, pulling your attention to it. “Fratello?” Cardinal Terzo’s voice sounded from the other side. “Now that you two have finished fucking, we should let you know we’re all gonna go.”

You hid your face in embarrassment despite the fact the only person who could see you was Secondo, who was laughing at your reaction.

“See you later, fratellino.”

“Later, sluts!”

There was a silence for a little while before Secondo heard the sound of your breathing mellowing out, realising then you’d fallen asleep before you both had chance to clean up properly. But that was okay, he could treat you like a queen in the morning. For now, you both needed rest.

Translations:

Buon pomeriggio - Good afternoon.

Ora - Now.

Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! - This is an absolute fucking joke!

Perché? - Why?

Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith? - Are you stupid, Cardinal Smith?

Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. - That does not surprise me, Cardinal.

Angioletta - Little angel.

Capisce? - Do you understand?

Grazie, amore mio. - Thank you, my love.

Che cos’è questo? - What’s this?

Che cazzo? - What the fuck?

Puttana. - Whore.

Brava ragazza. - Good girl.

Mi farai morire. - You’re gonna kill me.

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

[kiwiplaetzchen]

Behind the doors in a closet there slept a niffler. Not a filthy, sticky, dark closet, filled with discarded socks and smelly boots, nor yet a rough, sad, drafty closet with nothing to curl up into or to snack: it was a niffler closet, and that means comfort.

"Nosy~" a familiar voice calls the teal king from somewhere outside of his luscious throne cave. With the golden duckie on one side, hard-earned Christmas ornaments on the other, and a pile of coins, jewels, and other shinies beneath him — he was bound to have a great day.

"I got you some tasty milk with honey and cream! Nosy~ Come out!"

Inside his cosy lair, nestled atop a throne made from coins, a few pairs of Sebastian's socks and one suspiciously pilfered tie, the teal-furred menace slowly blinked awake as William's voice filtered in through the closet doors.

One paw curled lazily around his golden rubber duckie, the other pressed into a particularly delightful emerald brooch. Nosy smacked his beak, yawned a tiny, squeaky yawn, and stretched one leg out.

Then he heard it again. That mumsy voice.

"Nosy~ I got you some tasty milk with honey and cream! Nosy~ Come out!"

The Niffler's nose twitched.

Cream? Honey? Milk?

Nosy sat bolt upright, which sent the tower of coins beneath him jiggling. His eyes darted toward the door, his beak sticky from last night's biscuit raid, and gave a little sniff. The promise of something sweet trickled into his brain like syrup on warm toast.

Ah yes. There it was. The smell of indulgence.

With an elegant leap, he flung one of the wardrobe doors open, a puff of glitter dust bursting out behind him like confetti. There he stood - the Teal King himself, in all his glory! Head held high, belly pouch slightly puffed, his tail giving a confident wiggle.

But just as he took his first step out, he halted.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Nosy turned back with a huff, grabbed his golden duckie, and set it down at the threshold with a solemn pat on the head. Only once the duck was positioned, watching over his treasures, did the teal-furred troublemaker spin on his heel, squinting suspiciously toward the source of that oh-so-sweet offer. If this was some kind of trap to get him a bath… there better be a biscuit too..

The bowl of milk, though, was magnificent. It steamed slightly. It sparkled faintly. It smelt like heaven.

Nosy did not hesitate and dove in.

Once the bowl was empty - licked clean, flipped twice, and double-checked for any missed drops - the fluffy menace flopped back onto his bum with a satisfied grunt. A teeny, dignified burp escaped his milk-glazed beak.

Then he paused. Something felt different...

Nosy blinked slowly. A specific glint started to sparkle in the Niffler's eyes. His fur ruffled slightly as a breeze that didn't exist passed through the room. And then, barely audible, in a whisper the Niffler leaned forward and murmured:

"…Mama."

A blink.

"…Arson."

William blinked.

Nosy didn't blink.

Instead, a cheeky little smirk slowly spread across his furry little face - a smug, knowing curve of mischief and menace. It was a look the Slytherin knew far too well. The same look Nosy had when he decided to snatch Sebastian's magic stick. Or when he vanished for three hours and returned wearing someone else's Prefect badge and smelling faintly of smoke.

He didn't say another word, just stared at Will with the look of a creature who had plans. Very specific plans.

Without breaking eye contact, the little menace turned and began to waddle out of the room at a leisurely pace.

Right before slipping through the door, Nosy paused, lifted one tiny paw to his beak and gestured a soft, ominous:

Shhhhh.

[traumasurvivors]

Here’s a link to a blog post on my personal website on a topic that I think is very important.

I’ve also put it below the read more for people that don’t like external links. But if you're okay with it, checking it out on my personal website is really nice (and even giving it a heart if you can)! I don't make money from my website, so there are no intrusive ads or anything like that to stop you from reading the article.

Embracing Your Inner Child

This applies to anyone, but I really want to emphasize this to my fellow survivors who went through trauma as children and/or teenagers.

I’m so sorry you lost part, most or all of your childhood. That doesn’t mean it’s too late to give your inner child what you can. This includes comfort but it also includes doing the things you didn’t get to if you can.

Play the fun games. Buy the tasty treats. Go on adventures.

It’s never too late to feel a little more of the kind of joy you had (or should have had) as a child. You may not be able to be a child again, but you can still help and support your inner child.

You might have been told that a fun idea you had was “silly” or even “stupid.” When you have those thoughts now, instead of rejecting it, embrace the “silly” idea and let yourself enjoy it. It’s not shameful or wrong to do the things your inner child wants to do. It’s okay to be “immature” sometimes, even if you’re twenty years old. Or thirty. Or sixty. I just want to say that I don’t think any of this is immature, but I know that is a bias and judgement a lot of us might pass on ourselves. 

A short, not at all complete list of things you might do for your inner child:

Watch childhood movies or tv shows (Did you watch “Blues Clues”, or “Pokemon”? Maybe “The Land Before Time”? There’s no reason you can’t still enjoy them.)

Listen to “silly” music, maybe singing along or dancing to it (for me, one favourite is “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” from The Lion King. I know every word and have a dance party everytime it comes on my shuffle.)

Go to the park and use the swings (I don’t know why, but flying up just a few feet can make me forget all my “grown-up” worries)

Have a treat just because (maybe that big sundae your parents never let you have, or the chicken nuggets you haven’t had in a decade). Maybe you want to fulfil your childhood dream of having ice cream for breakfast! 

Go to the toy store - maybe even get some stuffed animals or other toy items. (I just recently realized that I can fulfill my childhood dream of collecting certain toys that I never got to have when I was younger!) 

Ride a roller coaster and scream your head off on the way down (I like to try to be in the very first car)

Make creative, crafty stuff - like a painting or drawing, or decorating a picture on construction paper with googly eyes and glitter or a clay model with a weirdly shaped head (even if the result looks like something you’d expect to see in a kindergarten class, or the process makes a mess that looks like a glitter bomb went off)

Another aspect of embracing your inner child is trying to give your inner child the person you needed when you were a child. 

This might mean standing up for yourself when others try to put you down or take credit for things you’ve done, even (or especially) if no one else spoke up for you when you were a child. 

It might mean offering comfort and compassion to yourself, and not being too hard on yourself when you make mistakes that you would have been insulted for as a child or don’t know something that “everyone learns as a child.” Maybe now you can teach yourself that accidents happen, and spilling a drink or breaking a plate is not the disaster and failure of character that you were told as a child. 

It might mean being patient with yourself when something is harder to do than you feel like it should be (whether you actually aren’t able to do it as easily as others, or you have unrealistic expectations of its difficulty because of the expectations put on you as a child). There are lots of instructional videos out there to help you to gain basic cooking or cleaning skills. If you never really learned to read, there are programs to help you. If you weren’t allowed or able to learn to manage your emotions or relationships in healthy ways, there’s help out there for you. There is absolutely no shame in not learning any kind of skills you feel you “should” have learned as a child, and it is okay to learn them as an adult.

You may have had to grow up too fast. You may not have been allowed to do the fun things. You may have suffered trauma that shattered your childhood. I’m here to tell you that you still have an inner child, and embracing that inner child is good for you. Just because you’re an adult, at any age, doesn’t mean that you’re too old to have fun.

No one else gets to decide what’s right for you - you get to decide what you enjoy and what you want.

And it’s never too late to remember, indulge, listen to, and embrace your inner child. Let them be a part of how you choose to move forward. It’s time for us to realize that there is no one way to be an adult, and we get to decide what being an adult means to us. And if that means I want to rent a bouncy castle for my birthday, then that is my perfectly valid version of an adult birthday (a birthday which my inner child would be thrilled about, by the way).

[tenebraevesper]

With Light In My Heart, Entry 7: Chasing Echoes

''Whispers spiral, born of flame, in the corners, shadows frame. Cinders crawl beneath my skin, I can't escape what pulls me in. Fragments drift, forgotten screams, ghosts that flicker in between. Chasing echoes, falling through, a labyrinth I never knew.''

– Embers of the Abyss by ABOKAI Release (Sonic X Shadow Generations: Dark Beginnings)

xXxXxXx

Sonic took a deep breath, his eyes closed, one arm placed over his eyes as he tried to wake up, yet he couldn't. He felt so cozy and warm underneath the blankets, wanting to sleep a little longer, but his body protested, his stomach growling and demanding food. He sighed, his arm sliding down as he slowly opened his eyes. He realized that he was lying on a couch in a cabin, taking a moment to recall how he got here, only for his muzzle to turn a rose red when his memories hit him with full force. He and Shadow had been cuddling, confessing their feelings for each other, kissing and simply pouring their hearts out. Frankly, Sonic had no idea how he even got that far. Sure, he had feelings for Shadow, something that took him a long time to realize and even longer to acknowledge, but he still believed that he would keep them for himself for Shadow's sake. He never thought that Shadow would reciprocate his feelings, but he would be lying if he said that he didn't feel happy about it. In fact, he as thrilled about Shadow becoming his boyfriend. Speaking of which…

''How do you feel?''

Sonic sat up, looking over the couch and spotting Shadow in the kitchen, walking over with a plate of fluffy pancakes, setting them on a coffee table next to the couch.

''I feel much better,'' Sonic answered, with Shadow placing his ungloved hand on his forehead, then lowering it to his peach muzzle and chest.

''You don't feel like an ice block anymore,'' Shadow stated, with Sonic snorting.

''That's all thanks to your care,'' Sonic said, only to get interrupted by his growling stomach. He glanced at the pancakes, then back at Shadow.

''Those are all for you. I already ate. Admittedly, it is a little late for breakfast,'' Shadow told him.

''Really?'' Sonic hummed, pulling the coffee table closer and digging into his meal.

''It's actually past noon,'' Shadow told him, sitting next to Sonic. The cobalt hedgehog rose an eyebrow, with Shadow adding, ''I didn't want to wake you up since you were still asleep and recovering, so I went to the village to get some supplies since I knew you'd be hungry once you wake up, as well as inform them that they won't be bothered by any of the Doctor's robots.''

Sonic nodded, happily eating the pancakes. He had to commend Shadow's cooking, as the pancakes were quite sweet and fluffy, but tasty and filling. ''I'm good to go once I'm done eating.''

''Are you sure?'' Shadow directed Sonic's attention to the nearest window, with the cobalt hedgehog's ears drooping once he realized that everything outside was white. Glittering snowflakes were flying past the window at high speed, the strong blizzard causing a near white-out. ''I have managed to return to the cabin just before the snowstorm and it only got stronger since then.''

''I guess we're stuck until the blizzard passes,'' Sonic commented, only to realize something. ''Wait, you still have the Chaos Emerald, right? I guess we could use that to leave.''

''Right…'' Shadow suddenly fell silent. Sonic gave him a puzzled look, wondering what was wrong, only to get startled when Shadow pressed his head into his hands, groaning, ''I should've used the Chaos Emerald to get you to a hospital.''

Sonic laughed lightly once he heard what was bothering Shadow. It seemed that the dark hedgehog finally realized that he could've used the Chaos Emerald to get Sonic to a hospital to get the appropriate care instead of trying to help him himself, even if he knew what to do in the case of hypothermia. Why didn't he think about it in the first place?

''Eh, confessing in a hospital wouldn't have been as romantic as confessing while cuddling to try to keep me from freezing to death,'' Sonic commented nonchalantly. His ears twitched when he heard a snort, only for Shadow to look up at him after sighing. He spotted a wide smile on Sonic's lips, both infuriating and endearing. He knew that his rival – now boyfriend – was just trying to cheer him up, with Shadow appreciated, but he still felt that Sonic shouldn't have treated the situation so lightly. It seemed that Sonic knew exactly what was on his mind, because he added, ''You know, thinking about what you could've done differently won't bring you anywhere. I meant it when I said that your treatment really helped.''

''You're right,'' Shadow agreed. He knew that debating about what he could've done will just lead to him spiral into more negative thoughts. He didn't need that. He couldn't go back to that. Sonic gave him a comforting smile, then focused back on his meal. ''Nevertheless, this means that we would be able to leave once you're done.''

''Maybe I don't feel that well.''

Shadow glanced at Sonic, who gave him a cheeky smile. The dark hedgehog furrowed a brow, knowing well that Sonic was spouting nonsense, since it was clear that he was back to his usual self after getting some proper rest. They weren't even stuck at this cabin, since Shadow could easily use Chaos Control to bypass the blizzard and they could move on to their next destination. Therefore, it would make no sense for them staying here… unless Sonic actually wanted to stay a little longer.

''Really?'' Shadow gave Sonic a quizzical tilt, despite the knowing look on his expression. Sonic was well aware what it meant, but he kept pretending as if he knew nothing.

''I mean, I do feel a little cold… Not like 'ice block-cold', but I wouldn't mind staying here to warm myself up a little more, at least until the blizzard passes,'' Sonic replied, doing his best to not make it obvious that he was just coming up with excuses to stay in the cabin in hopes to cuddle with Shadow in front of the crackling fire while listening to the whistling icy wind outside, and failing miserably at it.

Unfortunately for him, Shadow knew what he was up to, considering the 'you're not fooling me' gaze he gave the cobalt hedgehog, but to the latter's relief, he played along with it. ''If you don't feel well enough to leave, I won't argue.''

Shadow stood up to walk over to the fireplace to throw in more pieces of wood, only for his ear to flick when he heard a hiss of a ''Yes!'' as Sonic fist-pumped in delight. He was a little amused by the fact that, even though Sonic could've just asked him outright if they could just stay and cuddle, he went back to his usual attempts at playing it cool. It was kind of endearing, especially since they weren't in some perilous situation that would eat at Shadow's nerves and cause him to snap back. It genuinely felt weird to Shadow to not feel tense for once and he was doing his best to get used to it.

Sonic was soon done with his meal, making a quick trip to the bathroom to clean himself up and then plopping right back on the couch with a content look, patting the space next to him as he glanced at Shadow. Shadow sighed, relenting as he wondered how he even ended up in this situation, but he still joined Sonic under the blankets, with the cobalt hedgehog immediately wrapping his arms around Shadow, nuzzling his shoulder. Shadow couldn't really protest, as this felt quite comfortable and he had already abandoned any sense of dignity and pride the previous night. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to mess with Sonic a little.

''I never thought that you would be the clingy type,'' Shadow commented, watching with a smirk when Sonic rose his head.

''I'm not clingy,'' he protested, pouting. ''You're just a good heater.''

''If you want heat, perhaps I should kick you off of the couch and leave you in front of the fireplace instead,'' Shadow continued.

''You wouldn't,'' Sonic grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he shot a glare at Shadow.

''I would, and you know it,'' Shadow threatened, his deep, growling tone sending chills down Sonic's spine. The cobalt hedgehog knew well that if Shadow was set on a mission, there was absolutely nothing that would stop him and he deeply admired that determination, even if it led to them often clashing with each other. So, yeah, if Shadow felt like it, he would've kicked him off. However, that wasn't what left him unnerved. Instead, Sonic took note of Shadow's voice, sensing something in it that made him shiver, with waves of heat spreading through his body. He soon realized that it was actually a hint of playfulness on the dark hedgehog's part, the latter clearly being amused by his irritation.

If Shadow was relaxed and petty enough to annoy him for his own amusement, Sonic had to wonder what he was capable of when things got a bit more heated… only to quickly chase out those images in his head. Sure, he prided himself in being The Fastest Thing Alive, but he knew that he would have to get used to being in a romantic relationship first before he went further. It wasn't just because of Shadow's comfort, but also his own, given how he never actively pursued being in a relationship until now. However, he couldn't help those thoughts crawling back into his mind every time Shadow flashed his fangs, making Sonic wonder how they would feel on his own skin; or the fact that the dark hedgehog kept his bare hand resting on the cobalt hedgehog's peach belly, leaving Sonic's imagination spiraling.

''Hmph, you're unusually quiet,'' Shadow commented, snapping cobalt hedgehog out of his thoughts.

''Well, yeah, you're hot,'' Sonic responded with the first thing that came to his mind, only for his brain to finally catch up with his mouth, leaving him flustered. Sure, he knew that this relationship would eventually come with compliments from both sides, but he wasn't going to feed Shadow's ego so easily. Somehow, even when completely closed-off to others, the dark hedgehog still managed to radiate an aura of smugness that Sonic was usually able to match. Keyword being usually, because currently, he was far from his cocky self. He sighed, knowing he dug himself into a hole, but decided to tackle this like any other challenge he came across.

''As much as I appreciate the compliment, since it is true…'' Sonic frowned at that. ''I'm not certain whether I even want to know what made you say this.''

''So, you don't want to know what I think about you?'' Sonic asked in a teasing tone, giving Shadow a wide grin.

''No, I just want to stop you before you completely embarrass yourself by saying something foolish,'' Shadow responded in a deadpan tone.

''D'awww, Shads, you do care!'' Sonic didn't miss a beat, nuzzling Shadow's cheek before planting a kiss on it. The dark hedgehog felt a little exasperated by this, but he took it in stride. This was his new reality, after all, and he needed to get used to it. Speaking of reality, a brief memory of one of his conversations with Maria flashed in his mind, this one having occurred right after his confrontation with Sonic, where Maria expressed her fondness for the cobalt hedgehog, wondering if he and Shadow were friends.

While Shadow wanted nothing more get Maria back, he also shuddered at the thought of what she would think about his current relationship with Sonic. He wasn't worried that she would disapprove of it, having a hard time believing that she would be anything but supportive. No, what actually worried him was that she would get a bit too supportive when she realized that there was a special bond between them and start asking Shadow questions he, or at least his past self, didn't want an answer too. Despite being seen as sweet and innocent by everyone on the ARK, Shadow knew that Maria was wickedly smart and perceptive, and would not only pick up on his feelings towards Sonic, but also tease him about it or try to push him towards accepting those feelings. Somehow, an image of him confessing to Sonic at a park while Maria was lurking in the bushes and giving him a thumbs-up popped in his head, causing him to snort at the ridiculousness of the scenario, only to groan when he realized that, in an another world, that would probably happen. He didn't even want to think about how awkward things would be, but he figured that he maybe would be able to handle his emotions in a more healthy way.

''You okay?''

Shadow saw a pair of green orbs glinting at him.

''I'm fine…'' Shadow sighed, adding, ''Maria would've liked you…''

''I'm sure I would've liked her as well,'' Sonic answered, figuring that Shadow was simply reminiscing.

''I know…'' Shadow shot him a glare. ''Unfortunately, in that scenario I'd be stuck with babysitting you two and making sure you don't drag her into trouble.''

Sonic chuckled. ''Yeah, that sounds like something that could happen…''

He sort of felt bad for Shadow for having to watch over him, but his mischievous side was more than happy to drag dark hedgehog into another unforgettable adventure.

Unforgettable… Sonic's smile faded as a recent memory invaded his mind. He still smiled, despite the memory being unsettling. ''Hey, Shads?''

''Hm?''

''I want you to promise me something.''

''…'' Shadow took note of the seriousness in Sonic's tone, furrowing a brow. ''What is it?''

''If I ever start losing my memories of who I am, I want you to remember for me what kind of person I was,'' Sonic said. Shadow gave him a shocked look, his tone laced with concern and disbelief.

''Why would you ask me that?''

''Back on the Starfall Islands, when I freed Amy, Knuckles and Tails from their cyber cages, I also absorbed cyber-energy, which led to my mind and body getting corrupted by it. My condition started to deteriorate to the point that every movement caused me agony, my body growing cold and numb. However, that wasn't the worst of it.'' Sonic frowned, his emerald eyes losing some of its light. ''The worst part was that I was also starting to lose my memories of my friends, of my life, of myself.'' Shadow's eyes widened in shock at the revelation. He had his own experience with amnesia, knowing well how lost memories could mess up a person's psyche. Sonic seemed to have caught on, because he added, ''It wasn't anything like your situation. You forgot everything in an instant, while I was slowly losing my memories piece by piece. At some point, I have forgotten about my past adventures and almost forgot that the only reason I was running around on the Starfall Islands was because I needed to save my friends. I forced myself to remember my mission, but I would be lying if I said that it wasn't difficult and scary. I even forgot my name…''

Sonic had no idea when a teardrop rolled down his muzzle, nor why Shadow embraced him tightly as if his life depended on it. Instead, he looked up at Shadow with a smile, despite the pain and numbness in his chest. ''So, if something like that happens again, please remember what kind of person I was, especially if I start acting differently.''

''I… I promise…'' Shadow whispered, still holding Sonic tightly in his arms. Despite the his expression not changing at all, he felt horrified. Having his own memories messed with, he understood better than anyone how frightening this experience was for Sonic. He was used to having forgotten everything about himself, only remembering fragments of his past until all pieces of the puzzle could finally be put together. He recalled how there were times when he couldn't care less about his memories, not wanting to be defined by them. But then, it was like a switch flipped, and he was suddenly obsessed with the desire to know everything about his past, to the point of madness. Those were two extremes he had been struggling with for a long time. In comparison, Sonic had all of his memories, but they were forcefully taken away from him piece by piece. One moment, he saw the faces of his friends, cheering him on, and in the next moment, there was nothing but blank space in his mind, the faces of his friends gone. Not only that, but the person he was was gone too.

Despite making this promise, Shadow was determined to never let anything like this happen to Sonic again. He didn't care what he had to do to prevent this; he would ensure Sonic's safety and happiness. However, that also reminded him of his own issue.

''In turn, I want you to promise me something,'' Shadow stated, with Sonic giving him a serious look.

''What is it?''

''If I ever lose myself… If I ever give into my anger and decide to destroy the world, I want you to stop me.''

''Why would you even do that?'' Sonic asked, not understanding why Shadow was making a request like that.

''Even though Black Doom is gone, I doubt I will ever be free from his influence. I also know what I'm capable of, so if I ever reach a point where I give into that darkness, I want you to stop me by any means necessary,'' Shadow stated solemnly.

''I refuse.''

''What?'' Shadow blinked, puzzled by Sonic's response. Sonic gave him a determined look.

''I said I refuse.''

''Why?''

''That's because I know you will never become someone consumed by anger,'' Sonic stated with conviction.

''You do remember that the first time we met that I tried to erase the world from existence,'' Shadow reminded him in a deadpan tone. Sonic just smiled.

''Sure, but it's not like either of us knew what was going on. However, now we do, and I'll make sure to stay by your side. If you ever feel like losing yourself, just tell me and we'll figure things out,'' Sonic assured him.

''You are putting too much faith in me,'' Shadow muttered, sighing.

''And you are putting too little faith in yourself,'' Sonic told him in a serious tone, reaching for Shadow's arm and tracing down the red stripe, which went to the tip of the dark hedgehog's middle and ring finger. ''You're better than you think you are. Don't sell yourself short.''

Shadow didn't respond, instead leaning over and kissing Sonic. The cobalt hedgehog was caught off guard by the sudden gesture, feeling a strange sensation in his chest flaring up and returning the kiss. This one was more earnest, with Sonic understanding the message Shadow wanted to convey. Both were thankful for each other and for their mutual support.

''What's wrong?'' Shadow asked after breaking off the kiss and noticing Sonic's pensive look.

''I was just thinking what we're going to the others,'' Sonic said, giving Shadow a mischievous smile. ''I doubt that we'll be keeping this relationship a secret.''

Shadow's ears pinned back. Right, he forgot about the fact that they would have to come clean to their friends and teammates. His expression then fell, morphing into a look of annoyance that caused Sonic to chuckle lightly.

''Lemme guess- it's Rouge.''

''You're right.'' Shadow was a bit astounded that Sonic guessed what was bothering him so easily, but on the other hand, it wasn't hard to come to that conclusion. Both knew that when it came to their respective friend groups, Tails, Amy and Knuckles would most likely show their support for them and be respectful of their privacy, while Omega wouldn't care at all unless it involved bloodshed. Rouge, on the other hand, would definitely hound them for the juicy details about their relationship, wanting to know how in the world they ended up together and also gathering ammunition to tease them relentlessly.

''You know, maybe they don't have to know,'' Sonic said. Even if he liked Rouge, he wasn't in the mood either to talk about his relationship with Shadow,… at least not until he got more comfortable. ''At least not right away.''

''So, you want to keep this a secret?'' Shadow asked, raising an eyebrow.

''Why not? In fact, I think it will be fun to not get caught together. We could even make it a challenge, see how long it takes any of them to notice,'' Sonic suggested.

''Hmph, that sounds interesting.'' Shadow grinned, finding himself intrigued by the proposal. Sonic hummed.

''If I have to give it a guess, I'd say that either Amy or Rouge will be first to notice. They're the most perceptive when it comes to this stuff. But, until then, it's on. Don't disappoint me, Shads,'' he said.

''You too, Faker,'' Shadow responded, with the two sealing the deal with another kiss. Unless the world was ending, they both wanted to spend their time together in an embrace.

xXx

''So, where to next?'' Sonic asked, his hands folded behind his hand.

It was the next day, with Shadow using Chaos Control to warp them away from the snowy mountainside to somewhere warmer. They were more than ready to continue with their journey with newfound vigor, but they were clueless about their next destination.

''Weren't you the tour guide with the itinerary?'' Shadow asked in a snarky tone.

''I lost it after getting side-tracked,'' Sonic said, snorting when the dark hedgehog rolled his eyes. ''We could pick up a dart board, write down names of various locations, then throw a dart to see where it lands.''

''Depending on your aim, we might be stuck at the dart board the whole day,'' Shadow replied in a mocking tone, with Sonic groaning in annoyance.

''Dude, my aim isn't that bad!''

''The target practice at Twinkle Park begs to differ.''

''Then why don't you try, Mr. Gun Expert?''

''Gladly, but first, we need to find a dart board,'' Shadow pointed out. Sonic looked around, noting how they were currently at a dense forest, meaning they didn't really have any way of finding one. However, Sonic remained confident.

''Then we'll just walk around until we come across a place where we can find a dart board,'' he said. Shadow sighed, being torn between pointing out how that would be a waste of time because they didn't even know whether they'll come across a settlement and just going along with Sonic's idea, since his rival-turned-boyfriend had a knack of finding adventure without even trying.

''You know, this place kinda does look familiar,'' Sonic stated, with Shadow tilting his head.

''Really?'' Truth to be told, he didn't think about their location when he used Chaos Control, simply focusing on warping them to a place that wasn't the mountainside.

''Yeah!'' Sonic replied with a bit more enthusiasm. ''If I'm right, they should be living close by. Com'n!''

Sonic grabbed Shadow's hand, dragging him along. Shadow noted how Sonic's excitement was quite infectious, the cobalt hedgehog looking forward to meeting whoever lived in the area, which left Shadow wondering who that person might be. He got his answer soon enough when they left the woods and entered a clearing, finding themselves in Forest Floral Village, but Sonic didn't stop until they came across a particular house, with a particular figure in the front watering the plants.

This person was a tall, cream-furred anthropomorphic rabbit with a white muzzle, a small brown nose, brown eyes, and a tuft of dark orange hair on her forehead. She was wearing a long lavender dress with a white trim at the bottom of the puffy sleeves and the skirt, a burgundy-fitted vest with golden buttons, a blue ascot, white gloves with gold cufflinks, burgundy low-heeled shoes with a yellow detail and gray soles, and pink lipstick. She was holding a watering can, looking up from the plants when she heard the two hedgehogs approaching.

''Oh, my, Sonic, Shadow! What a surprise! What are you two doing here?'' Vanilla asked. ''I didn't know that you were visiting.''

''We were in the area, so I had figured I might as well say 'Hi'. How are you?'' Sonic asked.

''I'm fine. I was just doing a bit of gardening,'' Vanilla said, only to notice Sonic looking around. ''Are you looking for Cream and Cheese?''

''Yeah. They aren't back, are they?'' Sonic asked. Vanilla shook her head.

''No, they still have not returned. Last I heard, they were with Amy and Sticks in Apotos. It is quite far away, but Amy assured me that she was taking care of them,'' Vanilla explained. ''What about you two? Are you also on a road trip?''

''I suppose our journey could be described as one,'' Shadow answered in a polite manner, glancing at Sonic, who looked a little disappointed that his friends haven't returned yet. He felt bad for the cobalt hedgehog, realizing that he probably forgot that the two were still away. Considering how they were in Apotos, it would still be a while until they returned. ''If you're busy, we don't want to intrude.''

''No, not at all,'' Vanilla replied with a smile. ''Do you two want tea? I would like to hear where you have been.''

Sonic and Shadow exchanged glances, then nodded, with Sonic adding, ''Sure. We'll help you prepare everything.''

The three then walked into the house, with Vanilla preparing the tea and snacks, while Sonic and Shadow set up the table in the garden after being greeted by Chocola, Vanilla's companion Chao. They sat around the table, with Sonic launching into a description of the places they had visited so far and Vanilla and Chocola listening to him intently. Shadow remained silent, interrupting one or two times when Sonic got something wrong or exaggerated the situation. He did take note how his rival didn't mention the fact that he almost drowned or their time together at the cabin, staying true to the challenge they had.

''My, my, you've been through a lot,'' Vanilla commented, sipping her tea. Shadow took note of her glancing at the woods from time to time during Sonic's story.

''Are you waiting for someone?'' he asked, startling Vanilla.

''I have sent Gemerl to collect some blueberries for a pie I was baking, but he still hasn't returned. I'm getting a little worried that he is in trouble,'' Vanilla admitted.

''Knowing Gemerl, he should be able to deal with anything that comes his way,'' Sonic started, then give Vanilla a confident smile. ''If you want, Shadow and I could go search for him.''

''You would do that? Thank you so much,'' Vanilla said, clasping her hands in gratitude.

''It's no big deal,'' Sonic said, him and Shadow standing up. ''We'll be back with Gemerl before you know it.''

The two hedgehogs then left, dashing towards where Vanilla had pointed them to. They entered the woods once more, finding a path that led to blueberry bush, only to find an abandoned overturned basket with blueberries in it and no robot in sight.

''This is concerning,'' Shadow commented, looking at the scene and crouching down to inspect the footprints he spotted on the soft soil, followed by a gaze at the scorching marks on some of the trees. ''There was someone else here. They may have gotten into a fight with Gemerl.''

''Do you think that Gemerl had been kidnapped?'' Sonic asked, looking at the scorch marks. A pit was forming in his stomach.

''I don't have the answer to that, but it is a possibility,'' Shadow said in a grim tone. ''It seems that he may have been ambushed and got into a fight with his attacker, hence the scorch marks. But whoever took him managed to somehow overpower him.''

''We need to find Gemerl,'' Sonic stated, his eyes narrowing. Shadow stood up, nodding.

Things were about to get serious.

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[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) PART 2

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1

PART 2.

You tell him that you’ll meet him there. After your little crying jag, you have to go home and clean up. Maybe with some painkillers and a nap with an ice pack on your eyes you won’t look like death warmed over. He offers to pick you up, but you decline, knowing it would make the drive twice as long for him.

For a moment he seems like he wants to argue, but in the end he lets it go.

The restaurant is in Manhattan. It’s the sort of place you could never afford, and maybe even if you could, it wouldn’t exactly be your scene. You smooth your dress over your hips as you get out of your cab, hoping you won’t embarrass John. It was the nicest thing you own for a respectable rendezvous, a dark green paisley Etro dress with long sleeves that you’d scored at a thrift shop. It bared your shoulders with a wide neckline, but not much cleavage. You were behaving yourself tonight, despite the little suggestions the devils on your shoulders were whispering into your ear.  

Despite the fact that you arrive early, John is waiting for you outside, looking utterly edible in another black on black three-piece suit. Does he buy them in bulk? The thought makes you smile a little, a thing he returns in small measure. There is a sadness that cloaks this man like a mantle, and for a moment you wonder if that is what people see, when they look at you. You’re not sure you’re qualified to help him at all, but maybe, just maybe, there could be some solace in your shared grief for the same woman who left you both behind.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Nervously, you look through the window at the glittering lights and swanky diners laughing over their expensive glasses of wine. You feel unbearably self-conscious. “Am I dressed ok for this place?”

“You look beautiful.” He says it so matter of fact, his tone completely platonic. And yet…

And yet.

He looks at you with a haunting intensity that grips you to the bone. He isn't even looking at your body. He's looking at your face, almost as though he's seen a ghost. 

You know you remind him of her, and you wonder if maybe this is a bad idea. 

But he shakes himself out of it, offering his arm, and even though you have an inkling that maybe you shouldn't, another part of you that is usually kept locked up in the dungeon with the rest of your worst impulses pushes you to take it, because you want to. Bolstered by his approval and your own special brand of foolhardiness, you slip your arm through his with your head held high.  

You haven't technically done anything wrong yet. Lusting after your sister's husband in an abstract way you never had any intention of acting on isn't exactly new. But the rest...is edging into a murky gray area.

What would Helen think? She'd probably be amused, truth be told, at least by your own inner turmoil. You remember that she told you once that she never got jealous when women went all googly eyed over her model-handsome husband, because she trusted him so completely. He doesn't even look at them, she said. 

Well. He'd looked at you, like he was a wolf and you were a tasty little bunny. Just the thought made you flush all over again, your fingers involuntarily flexing on John's bicep.

Dear lord, it was like granite. 

He looks down at you, curious, and you know you look as embarrassed as you feel. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize, looking anywhere but at his burning anthracite eyes. He pats your hand, but says nothing, sparing you the embarrassment of making up some lame excuse. 

You go inside, and the maître d’ is exceptionally solicitous. Welcome back, Mr. Wick. This way please, Mr. Wick. He and Helen must have been quite the regulars.

Once you are at your table John waves off the maître d’, opting to push in your chair for you. His fingers brush your shoulder afterwards. It was probably a mistake, but you cannot suppress a small shudder. He does not look at you as he seats himself, opting to pick up the menu.

You follow suit, your skin on fire. 

It was an accidental touch, you tell yourself.

He didn't mean anything by it.

You glance up from your menu, to find he is looking at you out the corner of his eye.

You tell your treacherous heart that attempts to pound out of your chest to settle the fuck down.

“So...what was Helen’s favorite dish here?”

He doesn't look up, and for some reason you are relieved.

“Guess.”

“Hmm.” You scan the offerings. It is mostly French leaning nouvelle cuisine. It all looks delicious, and very expensive. You know the moment your eyes find the line, and you smile. “The magret de canard.”

This time he does smile with you. It is tinged with nostalgia, and your heart aches. For him. For you. For the woman you are remembering together.

“She took me to Europe when I graduated from high school. She ordered that dish in every restaurant in France we went to. She said it was so delicious there was no point in trying anything else.” You cackle with another memory. “Then when we got home she was determined to learn how to make it. It went ok until the sauce. Holy shit, the black smoke in that kitchen was like a tire fire!” You wipe away a tear that is borne of mirth and memory. 

When you look across the table again John is smiling gently, as though he can see it perfectly in his own mind’s eye.

“She was a terrible cook.” He says it fondly, like it amused the hell out of him.

“I know. I am too, I’m not throwing shade here. Do you like to cook?”

The side of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Yes. I find it relaxing.”

Figures. He would be so perfect. One of many reasons Helen undoubtedly fell in love with him.

When the waiter comes John orders a filet, and you, the duck. “For Helen,” you say with a wistful curl of lips. He stares at you silently for a long beat before nodding, returning your smile perfunctorily. You marvel that you can already tell when his expressions are genuine, and when he’s playing the part he needs to for the sake of social nicety. Your heart aches for him. It must be so painful to be here, where he'd dined with Helen so many times. Maybe more like sticking a finger in a wound, than a brave act for the sake of nostalgia. What were the two of you thinking? 

It occurs to you, from things Helen had said, that maybe this is more than just her favorite restaurant.

“This is where you met, isn't it?” 

His eyes are fixed on a particular spot at the bar. “Right over there. She was meeting a client, but he canceled. So we had dinner together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn't happen to have anything to do with that?” All Helen had ever told you about John's occupation was that he worked in security, but she had implied multiple times that he was resourceful, smart, and not someone to be fucked with.

The corner of his mouth ticks, his eyebrow rising slightly. You congratulate yourself for lifting him at least a little out of his funk. “I'm afraid it was just luck on my part.” 

“Fate,” you correct, toasting with your water glass, because you haven’t been brought drinks yet.

“It's nice to think so.”

“So then you had dinner.” You know the story. “Where did you sit?”

“Right here.” 

You feel a chill, knowing that once, your sister had sat in this very place, across from this very man, and changed the course of her life forever. You marvel at what that must have been like. You never fall for men quickly, usually keeping them at arm’s length for as long as you can manage. You’ve never experienced love at first sight, or first night, but looking at this handsome man across from you, it's not so hard to imagine.

“Did you fall in love that night?” you ask quietly.

“I did. I think for Helen...it took a little longer.”

Immediately you shake your head. “No,” you contradict, wanting him to know this. “She called me, the next day. She told me she'd just met the most amazing man and that she wanted to spend her life with him. I thought she was crazy.” You look around at the intimate setting, the low soft lighting and the swanky surroundings, a little misty eyed. Then, you look at him. This handsome devil with the soft eyes of a poet.

Helen hadn’t been frivolous. She hadn’t even been particularly romantic. Meeting John Wick changed all that.

“Maybe I understand a little better now.”

You look at each other from across the table. There is a longing in his eyes that you know you do not have the power to heal, and yet you would if you could. You would give a great deal to see this man made whole again—you’re not really sure why.

He looks away first, and you feel…raw. 

“Thank you. I…was the best version of myself, for her.” His long fingers trace a circle in the white table cloth, a hairline of a frown appearing on his brow. “I've slid backwards a bit, since.”

Hoo boy, did you get that.

“That’s ok,” you say softly. “We do what we have to, to survive.”

He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes through his long hair. Your fingers itch to brush it out of his face. To touch him, and you absolutely know you shouldn't. Shouldn’t even think it. But there is something in the way he's been looking at you today. Something almost like…hunger, and your belly flutters with a thousand butterflies made of bad ideas and midnight longings.

“So…what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

You shake your head with your heart in your throat. Is he asking out of politeness, making chit chat, or does he want to know if you’re unattached?

The truth is you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than six months, and a nervous little laugh escapes you.

“I’ve…never met anyone who it was worth the sacrifice. Things are always nice at first, but then he starts to try to mold you into the person he really wants you to be, and you realize all along he just wanted someone to cook his meals and wash his socks.” 

John lifts an eyebrow at this, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.

“Maybe you should try dating someone who can afford a housekeeper.” He looks up at you then, his dark eyes soft yet penetrating, and you swear he can see straight through to the depths of you. The look almost feels like a challenge, somehow. You try to meet him head on, but in the end the unbearable heat of it makes you squirm, and you look away.

The waiter saves you from what you might say next, bringing the bottle of wine John ordered. 

Thank god, because you need a drink.

[the-universal-sun]

In the spirit of the holiday (NYE, Any other cultural tradition), how do little Ford and Stan handle NYE? Do they have any traditions from their childhood they've rekindled? Or start a brand new one? An example I know of being, some people eat black eyed peas on NYE. So I wondered about your ideas/hcs that these two may have during this time! (And if you get to this long after these have past, that is 100% okay. No rush, no pressure :)!)

Sorry if this is a lot! I kind of split it between general new years stuff, little stan, and little ford stuff. But thank you so much for your ask! I know you said I could take my time, but I had so many ideas I had to get them out. Don’t worry, I’m working on the asks from December, I’ve not forgotten about you lovely people!!!

But I loved this ask! I had to look up some new years stuff because my family and I don’t particularly celebrate, and it was fun reading about all the different traditions people have!

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!!

As always I’m open to helpful comments and critiques!

-_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-

-They didn't care about NYE celebrations for 40 years, why celebrate alone or in another dimension? They didn't see a point to it until they were reunited and their relationship fixed. Now, they celebrate New Years not so much for the passing into a new age, but they celebrate being together for another year, of another year being twins again

-They do have a small party at the Shack for New Years, nothing big, just Fidds and Tate (who leave early) Soos, Wendy, Melody, the Twins, and the two of them (Gompers and Waddles too)

-If they're both big, they will indulge in some champagne when the clock strikes down, but only one glass as a celebration, neither caring for the taste

-They'll do Karaoke before the countdown- at Mabel and Soos' insistence, but both Stan and Ford have a blast singing the certified Old People songs they grew up on

-They didn't really do much to celebrate NYE growing up, so they'll basically do anything Mabel suggests will be a fun way to celebrate, smashing plates and making resolutions to name a few

-Taking a page out of their Mom's handbook, Stan will insist they eat Lentils on New Years for good luck, which Ford will refute as unscientific and therefore he shouldn't have to eat any. It's totally not because he hates Lentils

-If one twin is regressed during NYE, then the other will be their caregiver, knowing how loud and how high the energy will be during the festivities, it would be chaotic and stressful, for both of them, with Stan and Ford regressed together

-Both Stan and Ford, if they're regressed, will wear noise cancelling headphones to block out the sounds of the fireworks going off in town. Neither can stand loud noises, Little Stan's afraid of them and they remind Little Ford too much of his fights during his 30 years of travels

-They both love the lights the fireworks give off, so they'll stand by a window or on the porch with the headphones on and just watch the lights explode at a distance

-If Stan's regressed:

-Little Lee will insist on eating the 12 grapes under the table at midnight, Mabel told him that it's a tasty way to bring in luck for the new year, and Lee's not taking any chances

-Ford has the make him slow down eating the grapes, afraid he'll choke if he eat them too fast

-Poindexter and Shanklin 2 get hate made specially by Lee and Mabel, so they don't get left out of the fun times. The hats are shiny and glitter-laden, perfect hats for ringing in the New Year

-He doesn't sing during Karaoke, but he's clapping along and cheering for everyone that is

-Ford does give him a corner in the living room away from all the energy going on to give him some quiet time, Lee can get overstimulated so easily, so this little corner is a place where he can get away from the noise and excitement but Ford can still keep an eye on him

-He has some coloring books and crayons, a few blocks, and some noise-canceling headphones if the party gets too loud for his quiet corner

-Dipper joins him a couple of times when everywhere is too loud, silently stacking blocks and watching Lee knock them down gently

-He's allowed more sweets than he usually is, but even with Ford keeping an eye on him, Lee somehow eats an entire plate of Mabel's New Years cookies and manages to get one of the twins to supply him with severals cans-with straws-of Pitt Cola

-He's running around and stumbling into furniture. He earns some ouchies which he tearily begs Ford to kiss better

-Of course Ford kisses his Little Lee's bruises and scrapes

-He passes out right as the ball drops, dropping from his sugar high and exhausted from staying up hours past his bedtime

-Ford takes several pictures of Stan passed out and curled up on the couch, dressed in a warm dinosaur patterned onesie-the hood pulled up over his head-clutching his stuffies and snoring away, cookies crumbs and drool and spilling out the side of his mouth

-He hangs it up in the hallways the next stay, much to a rather grumpy and Big Stan's annoyance

-If Ford's little:

-He's dressing up Dr Mittens, not in a party hat, but in some smart and formal little dress ware, a suit and vest to match his own-Stan made the little suit-they have to look sharp for the celebrations and all

-He keeps his noise-canceling headphones on around his neck all night, pulling them up when things get too loud and hiding behind Stan or under his arm if things get to be too much

-He's begging and pleading with Stan to not eat the Good Luck Lentils he made, he finds lentils to be so yucky and gross on his tongue. The good luck isn't worth it

-Stan lets him get out of the lentils but ONLY if he eats grapes at midnight. Ford agrees, but only if he can sit at the table and eat them slowly

-Stan gets him a new fun bag of jelly beans as a little treat, but he can only eat one of every flavor, which is still around 20 flavors, so much more than Little Sixer would normally be allowed to have, but it's the holidays

-Stan does count out the jelly beans and then immediately goes and locks the bag in his room, he's not risking Ford sneaking and eating more and getting a stomach ache

-It's hard to stand firm on that, Sixer's puppy dog eyes and his little "Pwease, Buddy?" drives a stake through Stan's heart, but he stand firm and gives his brother some cookies shaped in the new year and a slice of some sort of almond cake Melody made

-It's the same as his jelly beans, but Ford's sweet tooth demands he eats it all

-He sings a song or two with Mabel during karaoke, she picks the Sid the Science Kid theme song and a BABBA song for them to sing. Ford tried to act embarrassed, but Stan knows his Little Buddy loves that show

-Stan finds the animation creepy, but who is he to judge

-Ford insists on getting in his pajamas and taking a nap a few hours before the countdown, he wants to be well rested enough to witness the ball drop. Stan helps him get dressed in some warm pajamas-space themed of course-and gets Dr Mittens changed into his regular clothes, too. They settle down in Ford's little napping tent and Stan reads a few chapters of a book-right now it's "A Boy Named Bat"-Ford's out by chapter two

-Stan promised his Buddy that he'd wake him in time to see the ball drop, and he does. Ford's grumpy from his nap being interrupted, but he's so excited to see the NYE ball that he forgets all about it. He's jumping and waving his hands excitedly, counting down loudly with everybody

-When the ball drops he's practically shaking Stan and pointing at it, chattering loudly in his ears, and at Mabel's suggestion, presses a slobbery kiss to Stan's cheek to ring in the New Year

-Even Stan can't pretend to be grumpy about that, his smile was caught in the picture Dipper took of the moment

[cosmicdeity746]

Short Fic - 'Sun'

Lucanis & FemRook (Laidir) Not sure where this came from but enjoy lovey dovey language.

If Lucanis Delamorte was asked to describe Anya “Rook” Laidir, he’d start with how she reminded him of the sun.

However, if given a chance to really take the time to think about it, he’d say that it was more than the sun.

The Lord of Fortune reminded him of a desert oasis, still hot with the heat of the sun, but with shade and cool water that allowed one to rest easy knowing they would be comforted and safe just a little longer before a long journey continued. She reminded him of the glitter of gold, found in a pouch given after a tough contract. One that left a Crow weary, but content that the reward was worth the long hours of waiting and planning. Rook reminded him of summer days, sitting among the canals of Treviso, an iced treat melting against the hand that held it, sticky and sweet.

Rook reminded him often of a warm cautious hug. One that came slowly at first, testing the boundaries long engrained and tightened by necessity, but engulfing is such a way the receiver would find themselves burying deeper without intending to. Purely for the express reason to keep that feeling alive.

If Lucanis took the time to answer in such a way, he knew many would give him pointed looks. Some would roll their eyes, claiming the “smooth charm of an Antivan strikes again”. He didn’t have the time or energy to tell those people that “charm” hadn’t been in his repertoire, nor skill set. He hadn’t ever had to ��seduce” a mark, given most of his marks never saw him coming to begin with, so what reason could he have to “charm” them.

He would say that Rook- wise-cracking, dependable, multi-faceted as she was- brought out the poet in him just by looking his way. By being exactly as she was. A little boisterous, a little manic, and a lot kind. She gave gentle kisses when his mood soured, gave intense heated looks when he felt the same, and back talked when Spite pitched in the conversation.

Spite too would have words to described Rook, although the demon would have said, “smoke of the fire”, “iron and steel”, “spicy and tasty”. But the sentiment remained. Lucanis could not disagree and considered such words practically poetic for the demon inside him.

Lucanis would say that Rook changed him. His Crow training had taught him to always keep his focus on his surroundings, to be aware of threats that could mean his immediate death if his concentration slipped. Such habit became necessary during his imprisonment in the Ostuary, and even with the added benefit of Spite being his “second set of eyes” he’d come out of the events that transpired hyper aware of even the breath of his companions if they ventured too close.

Lucanis was surprised- irritatingly at first, pleasantly after a while -when he’d realized he began to experience some difficulty focusing on anything other than Rook when she spoke. Her words quick, but clear, full of emotion, whether she was directing the conversation at him or not. He found himself lost in her voice. In the way her hands seemed to talk with her when she needed to make a stringent point. On the way her eyes couldn’t seem to focus on one point, flitting about when lost in thought or looking at all parts of the person face aside from their eyes.

Except his. He found that she had no issues looking him in the eye. Over a cup of coffee, steam billowing between them as she sipped, more cream than bean filling the topaz yellow cup he’d found on a grocery run one evening. Sweet like her, with a kick of caffeine that woke you up. Revved, and warm, and just the right side of comforting.

Lucanis found that after so long fighting his attraction to the leader of their merry band of colorful individuals, it had been so very easy to fall into love with the woman that was Anya “Rook” Laidir. The little things causing carefully crafted clouds of despair to dissipate. Like the sunbeam peeking through the rainstorm.

For Lucanis, the poets couldn’t hope to notice the things he did.

The glittering gold of dangling earrings, that catch in the sunlight while walking long stretches of coast, amicably arguing with her fellow Lord about the merits of treasure hunting underwater. Spite commenting that he could hold his breath longer than either of them, in some mock pride, that had them ogling and considering. Considering it himself, for a moment, just to see her happy at the results…ignoring the disappointed pouts when Lucanis eventually shook his head to deny them the pleasure.

The fingers dancing through his hair, gently untangling the little knots that accrued while fighting. Lips pressed against his shoulder blades, no need to flinch at the contact, because he was so aware of her presence behind him, around him, everywhere.

The glide of his hands over scarred skin, marked by memories he’d been too fearful to ask about, but knowing only enough to understand the life she led before had been harsh and cruel. Something that had not changed her. Or had in its own way; changed her to make it so easy when talking about himself. His life as a Crow, the time of his imprisonment. To allow her the access to his mind, pulled to him by an unlikely guest who trusted her as he had been so unable to.

The arms that enveloped him. Her whispered sentiments of love echoing in his skull as they were pressed against his jaw, his neck, his lips. The feel of her warmth, embracing and encompassing to make the darkest shadows of duty, terror, cold evaporate into dust. A desert storm that erased the footsteps that trampled before it. Never forgotten but made anew.

And he was often buffeted and thrown about when he was with her. A force of undeniable nature that fascinated, and terrified in equal measure.

He’d been terrified, still was if he was honest with himself, to love the sunshine that Rook brought to him. It made it so much easier to deny himself what he craved, the affection she’d brought to him with such ease. A hand pressing against the cage walls, not cruel but offering. He should have, could have, bitten the hand that stretched towards him. Had almost done so on occasion, if she hadn’t shone so brightly and gave so freely of her own trust.

Spite had known, fingers pressing back against hers more than he’d allowed, pushing through the subconscious thought so that he’d made escape attempts from his scarce dreams to seek her aid. Fortunate for them both, the demon had finally found the way to pull her in instead, past the bars with its many prison guards posted by his whims.

He’d thanked Spite for that, the smug bastard that he’d been. “I told you so,” he’d cawed at him, smirking in his minds eye, snickering when Lucanis had only told him to “be quiet” as he watched Rook’s sleeping face beside them. As one, their fingers brushed aside sun kissed hair, the feeling of lethargic warmth seeping into his bones. And he’d let himself fall into that, finally, after years of denying that feeling. Into the warm embrace of her hugs, her smiles, her shining soul. Spite would not walk tonight, he knew, for the demon had crooned his own strange contentment. It was strange indeed how sleep came easy to them both when basking in the sunlight.

So, if someone had asked Lucanis Delamorte to describe Anya “Rook” Laidir at that moment, he would have called her many things the likes of which poets would weep at. But wonder upon wonders, and above all else-

He could call her “Mine”.

[princesspenguin-1]

What about Illumi having a tea party with his daughter?

Tea party

(Haha yes! I've thought of something like this before, so here it.

I kept the name a secret because I really don't know what name to come up with. Lol)

The sun was high in the sky, which was a rarity near the Zoldyck household. The girl's wide-eyed gaze followed her father's expression as they stopped at the entrance to the house. Her request to have a tea party was unexpected for Illumi. His eyebrows rose and a surprised sound escaped his mouth.

"Oh? A tea party?.. Hmm.. Okay, I guess we have some time for that."

The girl smiled slightly triumphantly, inspired by how Illumi's mother sometimes spent time with Kalluto drinking tea in the garden, she also wanted to spend time with her father.

After a while, everything was ready, the servants did their best to make everything as good as possible at the request of the young lady. In the luxurious garden, there was a garden house for sunny days like this. The table was set with porcelain, sweet snacks were lying nearby and the pleasant aroma of tea was in the air.

Illumi sat with his legs crossed, watching the colored liquid beautifully glitter in the sun's rays and the steam slowly rising upward.

The little girl settles herself comfortably on the chair and stretches her hands out to the cup, inhaling the scent.

The girl takes the cup, takes a careful sip, and immediately winces, abruptly putting the cup back on the table.

"Ugh! Is this medicine? Why is it so spicy?!"

She looks at Illumi with an expression of hope, as if he will now confirm that this is some kind of mistake.

Illumi maintains his usual composure, he lifts the cup, takes a sip, and places it on the saucer with a small thud.

"This is ginger tea. It is good for your health."

He explains calmly. The daughter, still wincing, mutters.

"Healthy should be tasty! Why should I drink this?"

Illumi slightly raises an eyebrow, as if thinking, but then answers:

"We drink what is needed. The taste is not important.

She frowns and says:

"Then you drink it yourself!"

She pushes herself away from the table and touches the back of the chair, crossing her arms over her chest and looking offendedly to the side.

Illumi calmly moves the cup towards her:

"If you learn to accept unpleasant things now, it will become easier in the future. Drink."

The daughter pouts for a long time, but probably takes another sip under pressure from her father and immediately makes a face of displeasure.

In order to somehow interrupt the taste of tea that she did not like, she reached for the cookies with her hand, which stood so enticingly on the plate and attracted her attention. The hand picked up two whole pieces that were stuck to each other and as soon as she brought them to her mouth, one of the cookies fell to the ground. The girl first looked at it, and then looked up at Illumi.

"Dad, it fell and.. it's dirty. Can you fix it?"

Illumi just looked at her silently, taking a sip of hot tea.

"There's no point in fixing something that's lost its value."

She looks at the cookie thoughtfully and takes a bite of another, but later secretly picks it up on the table and whispers to herself.

"It'll still be delicious for the ants."

Illumi seemed to sigh heavily. It irritated him that she was distracted by such trivialities.

"Drink tea. You wanted it so much, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes..."

She nodded in agreement, but her desire to drink something that was so tasteless overpowered her. The decision was made to try pouring the tea into the grass, but Illumi noticed it without even looking.

"If you want to be strong, learn not to run away from trivialities."

After her violent reaction to the ginger tea and a short "lesson in patience" from Illumi, the daughter sits at the table with her arms crossed, looking at the cup with the air of someone who is fighting a great injustice.

Her behavior irritated him, Illumi took a small spoon in his hand and scooped sugar from the sugar bowl several times, poured it into her cup and stirred it thoroughly to soften the taste, moving the cup closer again.

She sighs, realizing that she will have to drink it, but taking a sip, she notices that the taste was more balanced.

"It tastes better this way?"

"Oh... Yes! Now it’s not so terrible. But still disgusting..."

It seems that this time she was happy, finishing her tea and finishing she raises her head and with a satisfied smile says:

"Dad, I like sitting here with you, as if I’m an adult. But I still don’t want this tea anymore. Let’s have a different one next time? Maybe a flower one?"

Illumi, a little surprised by her reaction, but nods in agreement, glad that he can finally spend time in silence with her more than once.

"Okay. Flowery taste..."

Illumi looks at the remains of tea in the cup, he allows her to be a little naughty at such moments, but he accepts her childish whims as part of her growth and hopes that it will soon go away, but he also does not miss the opportunity to teach her something in his strict manner. Although the tea party was not without instruction, the daughter is happy that she fulfilled her little dream.

[emmic0n]

(posting the fanfic here since I don't have an AO3 account yet) For He's a Jolly good Chess piece

Caine sat in contemplative silence, brainstorming what the next big act should be. When a time-keeping subroutine caught his attention... One of his oldest friends, Kinger, was about to spend his 30th year in the Digital Circus! Humans celebrated anniversaries like this, and Caine was no different. He quickly prepared the stage for a party. The act could wait, his friend needed to be celebrated!

Pomni, Zooble, Gangle, Jax, and Ragatha all found themselves suddenly on-stage. They all braced to endure whatever new act Caine came up with, but instead, Kinger appeared center-stage wearing a birthday hat and a glittering version of his robe. His sudden arrival was signaled with loud, dazzling fireworks, of which he reflexively screamed and cowered from.

Caine himself finally appeared, shouting “Friends! What a wonderful, wonderful day this is! Our friend Kinger,” Caine directed his attention to the regal chess piece, causing them to shrink into their robe out of fear, “is about to have his 30th anniversary here at the digital circus! This is a cause for celebration!”

Caine gave raucous applause as party poppers sounded, streamers flew in from out of nowhere, and a massive banner unfurled reading “Happy 30!! !”. Some of the humans clapped once or twice out of awkwardness, looking at Kinger with pity.

Kinger, meanwhile, stared off into infinity (which was not that much different from his usual expression). Time was but a meaningless slurry to him, but being given an exact reference point was far worse. He had spent almost a majority of his life trapped in a horrible nightmare simulation, a few more years and he'd have been here longer than he had been in the physical world. Realizing this, his already shattered psyche cracked into even smaller pieces. Tears welled in his eyes.

Caine watched his friend cry tears of what could only be joy! What a heartwarming moment it was!

“oh buddy, don't you start getting sentimental on me! If you start crying then I'll start crying!” Caine laughed, “Ha! That was a joke, I don't know how to!”

Ragatha attempted to butt in on Kinger's behalf, “Caine, I don't think Kin-” “Now Then!” Caine interrupted, “Let's party!”

The party consisted of games (that were about as dangerous/painful as Caine's normal acts), Cake (that wasn't edible, let alone tasty), and entertainment (which consisted of Bubble screaming on-stage for 30 straight minutes). As things wound down, Caine announced that gifts would be next!

“So!” Caine said, “what did you all bring for the man of honor?”

A moment of silent confusion passed.

“Caine, we didn't know there was gonna be a party, we didn't have a chance to get gifts.” Pomni said.

“no gifts?!” Caine exclaimed, he clicked his non-existent tongue disapprovingly “how inconsiderate, you should all know better!” His disapproving tone then immediately shifted back into his usual state of manic bombastic-ness, “But don't worry! My gift is so good that It can be from all of us! Kinger!”

The floating ringmaster once again snapped his attention to the chess piece, and once again, Kinger cowered in sheer terror.

“Kinger, my dear, dear friend. Ever since you arrived here, 30 years ago, there has been only one thing you wanted.”

Kinger stopped recoiling, did he dare hope?

“something I have never given you, until today.”

Was he going to get his freedom?

“That's right, I'm granting you your deepest desire-”

This was it! Kinger would be free! He could go home!

“your freeeeee-”

YES! YES! YES!

“-eeeee novelty mug!”

Kinger didn't process what Caine said until the mug materialized in his lap, it read “#100% Kigner” in comic sans.

Kinger never wanted a novelty mug

Kinger never voiced any interest in owning a novelty mug

Kinger had no idea where Caine got the idea that he wanted a novelty mug

after a palpable moment of silence. Kinger just said

“...Thanks, Caine.”

[mylovelylittleobsessions]

Stealth Attack

A Rings of Power One-shot

Featuring Adar and his kids. Pure fluff.

Enjoy!

Wrûg bared his teeth as he crept forward, soot-coated stick in hand. This was it; today was the day he’d finally be taken seriously as a hunter by the rest of the clans. They’d have to accept him, and let him go on the big game hunts after this! No other Uruk could do what he was planning; they were too scared.

Not that he hadn’t tried to convince them before. He’d made it clear that he would bring the best game, the tastiest meat anybody’d ever had, if only they’d let him come along. But every time it was the same: they’d agree condescendingly, or coo at him, or pinch his cheek, then send him off with a pat on the head and a piece of sweet root.

He didn’t deserve to be treated like this. He’d seen seven winters already; he was practically a grown-up! (Though, of course, he didn’t turn his nose up at the sweet root; he wasn’t stupid.)

Tonight, however, would change everything. His bared teeth became a grin as he snuck closer to his goal: Adar’s tent. He’d teach them all a lesson by leaving a mark on the ancient Uruk, and they’d all see how clever and crafty he was! Even Adar would be impressed, right after he scrubbed Wrûg’s mark off.

Wrûg slipped into the tent and almost huffed with disappointment. This was going to be too easy; Adar was asleep! There he was, the eldest of them, snoring away in his nest of blankets without a care in the world! He tiptoed over to the nest and peeked in, stick in hand.

Adar had his face tucked under his arm like a sleeping warg (and snoring like one too), so putting a mark on his face was going to be tricky. He’d wanted to draw face hair on him like the dwarves had, but now he’d have to think of something else. Maybe he’d put a frowny face, or a skull, or a —

Wrûg’s feet flew off the ground as he was suddenly scooped up in a grip like iron. He rolled head over feet into the nest, and found himself nose to nose with Adar himself, eyes glittering with mischief.

Ooh, Adar tricked him! He wasn’t sleeping at all! His snores were made of lies!

“Well, well,” he graveled, in that soft, deep voice that every Uruk associated with the safety of their eldest, “what’s this I’ve caught?”

Wrûg squirmed, but couldn’t wriggle out of the hold Adar had him in, perched on his lap.

Adar looked him over appraisingly, smirk growing. “Looks like a tasty little Uruk-child for my dinner! Let’s see if he’s any good…”

Hang on a minute! He knew where this was going!

“Adar, no!” He squealed. “No tickle!”

But it was too late. Adar had descended, pretending to gobble him up as he made fake-eating noises and gummed at Wrûg’s tummy. Wrûg shrieked with laughter, unable to escape.

Adar hummed. “Not quite. Perhaps some seasoning.” He mimed sprinkling something on Wrûg before gumming his exposed arm. “Much better.” He grinned and resumed his tickling onslaught.

“Adaaaaar!”

After a few minutes, Adar stopped, letting Wrûg catch his breath. “Now,” he rasped, voice filled with mirth, “what brings you creeping in here to me, little one?”

Wrûg stiffened a little, having snuggled up to Adar in the meantime. “Umm…”

Adar raised an eyebrow, then looked around and picked up Wrûg’s soot stick. “This, perhaps?”

Uh-oh, now he was in trouble. “I w-was…”

Adar tipped Wrûg’s chin up so they were looking eye to eye. “Were you going to play a prank on your Father, child?”

Wrûg nodded.

“Why?”

His lip wobbled. Nononono, he was not going to cry like a little baby in front of Adar! “I ju-just wanna be a hunt-ter…”

Adar’s gaze softened. “Oh, sweetling,” he cooed, rocking him a little, “you need not worry about such things yet. You have your whole life to be a hunter or a warrior or whatever you wish. For now, you would please me best by living your childhood without fear in our new home. Can you do that for an old Uruk?”

He nodded, then flung himself around Adar in a tight embrace. “Love you, Adar…”

“I love you too, little one.” Adar got to his feet, balancing Wrûg on his hip. “Now, no more sneaking in my tent!” He teased, booping Wrûg’s nose with the stick and leaving a soot spot on the tip. He carried Wrûg out and into the camp, where his mother was looking around for him.

“You could have been squished by a warg in there.” He sniffed the air and gave him a look. “Although you smell like you might have already. What did you do, child, roll around in a bog?”

Wrûg looked away shiftily. “No…”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No…” he lied.

Adar rolled his eyes with a huff and passed Wrûg over to his mother. “I believe this smelly creature belongs to you, daughter.” He teased, before looking him in the eye. “Be a good boy for your mother, Wrûg.”

“Yes, Adar!” He nodded with a bright smile. Adar called him by name! He was a grown-up!

Adar gave a small smile and murmured something in his mother’s ear about new soap. Wrûg contentedly rested his head on his mother’s shoulder as he was carried away to the other side of the camp. His mother patted his back while she chattered about the stew she was gonna fix for dinner—

Wait a minute.

What did Adar say?

Soap?

But that meant—

“NO!” He howled. “NO BATH!”