#how can a moment last forever

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Topic jump of the evening, but something something connecting Jemima to the song "I Don't Want to Live on the Moon" has me in tears right now

[sapphireginger]

Title: Beauty & the Void - Chapter #7

Pairing: Stallison [Stiles Stilinski + Allison Argent]

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,482

Warnings:  

Descriptions of Past Rape/Non-Con Objectification of a Woman Degradation Homophobic Slur Panic Attack (Brief Description) Minor Character Deaths Mild Gore Mild Blood. Mild sexual content.

Square Filled: Too Late To Save Them

Written For: @anyfandomangstbingo

Full Fic AO3 Link

Summary:

As the days pass, Allison and Itazura are growing closer. The hesitation is waning between them and one day Allison decides to show the man how to bake her father’s honey oat muffins. In turn, she lets herself be led around the grounds as he tells her what he sees. Allison can’t help smiling at the world she sees through his eyes.

As the days pass, Allison and Itazura are growing closer. The hesitation is waning between them and one day Allison decides to show the man how to bake her father’s honey oat muffins. In turn, she lets herself be led around the grounds as he tells her what he sees. Allison can’t help smiling at the world she sees through his eyes. 

Today they sit on the bench beneath an old oak and Allison fiddles with her hair. “Itazura?” she says softly. 

He glances over and quirks a brow. “Oui?”

She blushes lightly. “I was wondering if you would maybe show me some of your magic?”

A look of surprise briefly flashes across his face and then he clears his throat. “Qu'aimeriez-vous voir, Mlle Allison?”

“Everything but for now I will settle for whatever you want to show me.”

He smiles at her, and Allison can’t help thinking he’s the most gorgeous man she’s ever laid eyes on. She watches with awe as he flicks the fingers of his right hand, his left still occupied by holding hers. 

All at once petals begin to swirl and twist in front of them, forming a small fox that dances across the sky. It hops from cloud to cloud and darts towards them but right as it reaches them, the petals burst adorning Allison’s head with a flora crown of violets. 

“Oh my,” she whispers, her fingers brushing the crown as Itazura watches her reaction curiously. 

“Cela ne vous fait-il pas peur?” he asks.

Allison shakes her head and meets his gaze. “Non. C'est magnifique et c'est toi.”

The pink flush on his cheeks though sparse gives her butterflies, but as he shows her more of what he can do, heat pools in her stomach and for some reason unknown to her, her fingers twitch every time he works his magic.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃���

A few nights later, Allison is sound asleep in her room, Itazura in his own room, deep in thought. All is quiet until half past one in the morning when Allison bolts upright with a silent scream. Her body trembles uncontrollably, her hands shaking too hard to stop. It’s the worst nightmare she has had in months and following the nightmare, a panic attack flares up, leaving her immobilized for nearly twenty minutes. 

When she regains use of her limbs, she pushes the covers back, her hands still shaking. Her nightgown nearly sticks to her body with how much sweat coats her skin, but she barely notices as she heads toward Itazura’s room. She can’t explain it, but she needs him. 

To her surprise, as she’s never tried before, his magic lets her through into his suite. With a shuddering breath, she knocks softly. Her stomach feels queasy and she’s nervous. What if he’s asleep and he gets angry that she–

The door opens to a sight that she’s fantasized about before and there are no words for how her throat goes dry. He is sexy even as “plain” as he is in simple bed clothes. With a furrowed brow she’s seen before and clocked as his concerned expression, he lets her in. With a wave of his fingers, she finds herself as though the nightmare never happened, and the sweat is gone. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

He takes a seat near her but not too close and shakes his head. “Vous n'avez pas besoin de m'excuser. Vous ne pouvez pas aider vos rêves ou cauchemars. Je t'ai dit que je t'aiderai et te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin. Veux-tu en parler?”

“I woke you though.”

“Non,” he replies with a wry smile. “Je ne pouvais pas dormir.”

“Oh,” she says softly. “Do you really mean it? Can I tell you?”

Itazura tilts his head and nods. “Oui.”

Allison sucks in a harsh breath and begins. She’s only able to power through when his fingers lace with hers. 

“It wasn’t bad at first. I dreamt I was back with my father and my mother again. Gerard never made an appearance, until he did. My father was held back by his men and my mother was r-rap–” She hiccups on a sob. “–b-by him. Then killed. He made my dad watch as he raped me, then made me kill my dad. Then he–H-He he told me I would give him children to mold better than my father had ever been.

“The only part of that nightmare that had any truth to it was him raping me and him telling me I’d bear him children. I used to want to be a mother. I-I still do, but when I learned what he wanted I asked one of the last remaining servants, still loyal to my father, to give me a bottle that held the only solution I could think of. I drank it all and because of that decision, I’ll never be a mom now and it hurts to know that but at least I never bore a child that he might do to them what he did to me.”

By the time she finishes, her face is pale, nearly ghost white and her body is freezing. Her mocha eyes find Itazura’s honey orbs, and she shudders, tears slipping down her cheeks. “P-Please say something?”

Itazura’s expression is not as closed off as it once was, but it is closed off enough that she fears she’s lost all the progress, but then his arms are around her in a protective embrace that she melts into. Unable to hold back anymore, she sobs uncontrollably, her tears soaking his nightshirt, though he doesn’t seem to care at all. Her hands clutch the fabric so tightly her knuckles turn white enough to match her face. 

At that moment, Itazura makes a decision, and he hopes she won’t be angry about it. 

♪♪♪

“How does a moment last forever How does our happiness endure Through the darkest of our troubles Love is beauty, love is pure Love pays no mind to desolation It flows like a river to the soul Protects, perceives and perseveres And makes us whole…”

♪♪♪

He can feel her breathing stutter and slow, pushing further into his arms as she settles. With no objection he continues.

♪♪♪

“Minutes turn to hours Days to years then gone But when all else has been forgotten Still our song lives on…”

♪♪♪

Allison’s eyes have closed and she’s starting to nod off but does whisper, “Je t'aime.”

With a throat clicking swallow, Itazura gently kisses her forehead and guides her to lie down. “Prends le lit, ma violette. Dormir.”

After kissing her forehead again, he goes to sleep on the settee, but she catches his hand, “Stay. Please stay.” 

“Je resterai jusqu'à ce que vous vous endormiez, Miss Allison,” he whispers.

With a soft smile, he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand enveloping hers once more, glad to feel her skin now warm again. 

Her brow furrows and she shakes her head. “Non,” she says. “Je te veux près de moi. S'il te plaît?”

All she gets in reply is a soft look and a kiss to her forehead. His lips brush over the back of her hand as he says, “Un jour, Mlle Allison.”  

Allison starts to drift off again, heart bereft that he won’t lie beside her but her heart is also full because he is still there. His hand remains holding hers until a little while after she falls asleep. Only when her breathing evens out, does he then stand, and brush a kiss to her forehead. 

“Je ne mérite pas ton amour mais je suis trop égoïste pour le rejeter. Dors bien, ma douce petite violette.”

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

Allison only gets maybe six hours of sleep, but they are the most amazing six hours she’s ever had. Never before has she ever felt so safe and secure when asleep. She is awoken by the sun streaming in the bedroom window. It’s then she remembers the night before and her eyes snap open. 

She’s startled by a sound to her left. “Oh!” she exclaims. 

Nyx smiles and if a fox could look sheepish, that’s what his expression would be. “Forgive me, Miss Allison. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Allison swallows nervously. “It-It’s okay. I um forgot where I was for a moment.” Her mocha eyes follow the fox as he nods and turns toward the bathroom, which she had not realized held Itazura.

“Good morning, Master,” Nyx says.  

Itazura turns, stepping out from the bathroom and smiles, the sight of which steals Allison’s breath away. The sunlight catches his eyes, and she feels like time stops. 

“Dzień dobry, Nyx.”

His reply is in Polish, something that surprises Allison as she knows what the language sounds like but not what he’s saying. For some reason, especially after how vulnerable she was with him last night–early this morning–it cuts deep that he is using a language she does not know, to have a conversation right in front of her. She can’t help but wonder if he’s hiding something. It’s irrational, she knows but logic and rational thought seem to have left her for the time being.

It also makes her angry though not extremely so. Suddenly a small spark of flame catches the drape in his room. 

Itazura’s face goes ashen, his eyes widening in fear as he freezes.

Nyx immediately jumps into action and Allison finds herself back in her room. She frowns, her hands shaking, not understanding what just happened. 

Vyxi comes to stay with her but a few minutes later. “Are you all right, Miss?” she asks as she jumps onto the bed. 

“I-I–” Allison clears her throat. “I don’t know.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “Is he okay?”

The fox’s ears droop and she nudges Allison up to get dressed. “Let’s go for a walk, miss. The fresh air will surely help and do you good.”

Without any protest, not even having the energy to do so, Allison bathes and dresses. Today she puts on a cream colored gown, with a lavender cloak. Her hair curls when she removes the curlers from it and then she follows Vyxi outside.

All she can think about is that she has messed up and he will soon send her away. Allison pulls the cloak tighter around her and shivers at the mere idea of such a thing happening. She wouldn’t blame him though.

Nyx shows up when Allison and Vyxi are outside. “Miss Allison,” he says. “Might I have a word with you?”

“Sure,” she whispers. “Is he–Is he okay? Did I hurt him?” Tears fall in torrents down her cheeks. 

“No miss but I am here to explain why you were sent to your room the way you were. Please sit.”

Allison nods and takes a seat on the cool grass, hugging her knees to her chest, her chin resting on them. “I am listening.”

Nyx glances at Vyxi with a warning look and then looks back at Allison. “The master has a fear of fire. The smell of smoke or flicker of a spark can result in panic so severe he shuts down. As of right now, his room and that side of the castle are awarded and not even I can currently enter. Please do not feel guilty. You were not intentionally trying to hurt him. He logically knows that, but just as you have your own past that plagues you, so does he.”

Her curls bounce as she nods in understanding. She tilts her head in confusion. “What about all the fireplaces?”

 “Oh,” Nyx says. “Well, those flames are ones he created himself. They will never escape the stone prison they are resting in. Therefore, as he trusts his magic, he trusts the flames it conjures.”

Allison feels the familiar heat pooling in her gut and blushes furiously. She wonders if the foxes can smell how she feels about the man, their master. Her voice is soft when she whispers, “Forgive me, Itazura. I am sorry.”

It’s nearly an hour later when he gives his reply. 

“Merci, Mlle Allison. Vous n'avez pas besoin de demander mon pardon. Vous avez déjà été pardonné avant de quitter le bâtiment.”

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

Dinner is a quiet affair, but it doesn’t bother Allison, as she is just relieved that he came to dinner despite what occurred early this morning. After they finish eating, he stands and offers his hand. “Marche avec moi?”

With a nod, she takes his hand and her stomach flips when he laces their fingers together. Itazura leads her to the foyer toward the window seat and gestures for her to sit. Once she does, he sits next to her. 

“Il y a quelque chose dont je dois vous informer, Mlle Allison. Je suis désolé de ne pas avoir pu le faire plus tôt.”

Allison’s brow furrows but she nods. “Okay. What is it?” she asks softly. 

His amber eyes lock with her mocha orbs and he gently squeezes her hand. “You have magic, Miss Allison.”

At his words, she stills, all the air seeming to vanish from her lungs. Allison is terrified. She has told him she doesn’t want magic and he’s now telling her she has it anyway. “You hid that from me,” she says, her heart cracking slightly.

Itazura swallows thickly and nods. “Oui.” He wants to help but she’s hurt he kept it from her. 

With a vigorous shake of her head, she flees and locks herself in the library. Her chest heaves as she curls up on the couch in the loft and softly cries into the cushion. Allison knows locking the door won’t keep him out but it’s enough for now. She refuses to acknowledge the fact that she’s disappointed he didn’t come after her. She stays there for two weeks.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

Two Weeks Later:

When Allison emerges from the library two weeks later, she marches right up to him with a determined look on her face. “Montre-moi. Enseigne moi. Aidez-moi et guidez-moi.” 

His amber eyes search her face as if making sure she’s truly okay but Allison ignores the warmth in her heart at the knowledge that he seems to care. “Comme vous le souhaitez, Mlle Allison,” he says softly.

She nods and quirks a brow expectantly. Never has Allison really pushed for anything but for some reason, this time she doesn’t let herself second guess. “Now.”

Vyxi and Nyx look on in wariness at the young miss’s tone but are not surprised when the master rises and beckons for her to follow him. Both fox’s exchange a look, wondering how long it’ll be before Miss Allison learns just how much power she has over the most powerful man and being in the world. They also wonder just what she’ll do when she does find out.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

The first lesson he gives her is reading, which she thinks is ridiculous as that is one of her hobbies, but Allison can’t deny she’s curious about what she can do.

“So, I was born with magic…” she starts. 

“Oui,” he replies. 

Allison tilts her head. “However, the magic wasn’t ignited until Gerard died?”

Again, Itazura nods. “Maintenant que vous vivez ici autour de la magie à chaque heure de chaque jour, vous avez commencé à fleurir et à vous épanouir dans votre don.”

Her mocha eyes light up and she stills when his fingers tuck her hair behind her ear. Slowly, she meets his gaze and sees how he’s holding himself back from being close to her. That’s not something she wants, so keeping eye contact she moves closer and after searching his gaze, lays her head on his shoulder.

The simple action, releases tension in both of them they hadn’t realized was there. One of Allison’s love languages is quality time, and another is physical touch. Being close to him, able to touch him in some way, settles a restlessness in her like no one and nothing else has ever been able to do.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

After a week of training, they have a picnic under the stars, Itazura lying down while Allison is still sitting, and she admires his profile. The moon makes him look ethereal and even more beautiful. The sun always makes him seem to glow and shimmer like gold but the most beautiful sight is Itazura beneath the light of the moon. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, she slowly lies down, keeping her eyes on his face. Feeling her gaze, he turns to look at her. There’s tension between them and then she leans forward to press her lips to his. He sighs softly and kisses her back with zero hesitation. 

His reciprocation opens a floodgate and something within her urges her forward. Her hands press flat against his chest, and she slips her leg between his legs. 

For a moment, he pulls back and quirks a brow at her. 

She blushes and averts her gaze. “I-I’m…” she trails off.

A warm hand cups her jaw, turning her gaze back to him. “Que voulez-vous de moi, Mlle Allison?”

“I-I want whatever you’ll give me,” she tells him. 

“Et si je veux te faire sentir le bonheur, est-ce que ça te convient?”

“Yes,” she breathes out against his lips. “S'il te plaît?”

Itazura nods and cups her face, pulling her flush once more. Their bodies undulate and Allison is lost to the sensations. She has of course imagined such a thing but without knowing she would actually get to have it. This is what intimacy should be like and she never wants to lose it. She will never get enough. 

“Oh!” she says with a gasp. 

“Je t'ai eu,” he whispers against her lips, his hips moving faster but still careful. “Lâchez, Mlle Allison. Lâcher.”

Allison throws her head back, a soft moan erupting from her throat as he latches his lips onto the pale column. Her eyes close tightly, her mouth opening wide in a silent cry as that wave of euphoria washes over her. The time by herself was nothing compared to this. “Itazura!” she cries as her body trembles in the aftershocks. 

With the bliss coating her senses, she almost immediately falls asleep, but she is not too far gone to notice that he is panting just as heavily as she is and with a shiver, she realizes his pants are wet like hers. ‘I did that to him,’ she thinks to herself. ‘He found euphoria because of me.’

After that night, they start sharing his bed.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

Although expecting things to keep progressing, Allison is grateful they don’t. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be more intimate with him, but it’s the first time for her being intimate with someone she loves who loves her in return. At least, she’s pretty sure he loves her. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t said it, yet. Her father always said actions speak louder than words. 

Allison has asked about going to the city only once. “Could I go to Paris, Itazura?” she asks.

Itazura looks up from his book and she’s prepared for him to say no. 

To her surprise, he doesn’t say no to her going. He meant what he said about her being free to go. Allison can just tell though, that he expects her not to come back. 

So, she takes his hands in hers. “Take me?” The request draws a smile out of the man, and he nods. 

Therefore, today, Itazura is taking her to Paris.

The way he talks about his land makes Allison want to know what his eyes see in the city. They leave in the morning, riding Roscoe which is thrilling for Allison. The horse is beautiful, and she drinks in the sights as they travel. She looks over her shoulder at the man and wonders what other people see when they look at him. 

Do they admire his amber eyes like honey dewdrops in the sun? Do they see his chocolate curls and dream of running their fingers through it? Do they see his skin and wish to put their lips upon it? Unbeknownst to Allison, Itazura wears a glamor that only she can see past. 

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

They start at the shops and despite a few initial protests, she allows the man to buy her what she desires. Part of her feels overwhelmed and guilty but another part of her feels special and loved. It’s an odd cocktail of emotions. As they leave the fifth shop, their things are sent back to the manor, this time her using a bit of her own magic to help.

Now they are walking toward the Eiffel Tower, their fingers laced together and softly talking. 

Though listening to Allison, Itazura overhears the whispers of two men who watch Allison with hungry eyes. 

“Ain’t she a beaut? What do you think her little Venus’s honeypot tastes like?”

“No idea brother, but damn if I don’t want to know.”

“They say a woman is gifted with nectar from the gods and that the taste is sweeter than the sweetest honey.”

“Oh hell.” 

“So, ass or the sweet honey nectar from the gods?”

“Come on brother. I am an ass man through and through. I’d still kill for a taste of her nectar as it were, and I bet ya no one has broken either in yet.”

The men smirk and laugh with maliciousness. 

“What do you suppose he does with her?”

“Beats me, he’s a bit fairy looking, ain’t he?”

“Very. Oh, perhaps he is a brother?”

“We’ll see. Let’s keep an eye on her. He can’t watch her forever. I have been dying to sink my manhood into some honeypot for a while now.”

“Amen to that brother. As have I.”

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

The derogatory, degrading words and intentions of the men have Itazura shaking with rage. He pushes it down, wanting Allison to enjoy the outing. She kisses his cheek when he gets lost in thought. “Are you all right?”

He offers a small smile, his mind remembering words he read once. ‘You were sharp as a knife to get me. You were a wolf in the night to fetch me, back. The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell. Everyone knows I am going to hell.' He blinks several times to shove those words aside and gives Allison a nod. “Oui.”

She doesn’t look convinced, and he doesn’t blame her. It’s just that the men won’t leave his mind, and he can feel their eyes following them as well as their bodies. Not to mention the vibrations of their evil intent his magic picks up like it’s candy. 

Needless to say, when the two men try to attack Allison and Itazura when they’re not right in front of people, Itazura kills them. 

Allison watches, clinging to the side of Roscoe who is shielding her from the sight as best he can. The blood spatter adorning Itazura’s clothing with every cut elicits a flurry of feelings from her. She feels aroused, shocked, surprised, awed, protected and a myriad of other emotions. 

When he returns to her, the bodies of the two men, being pulled into the earth as an offering, she doesn’t know what to say, but rather than fearing him as she has never truly feared him, she takes his hand in hers. She ignores the slippery crimson substance between their fingers and ignores the copper scent flooding her nostrils. Allison uses a handkerchief to clear the blood away from his face and cups it, neither of them caring about the blood as they kiss. It’s brief and chaste but the tense line of his shoulders vanishes at the caress. 

As they part, he nods, clearing his throat. They quickly collect their goodies and head back. His arms are tight around her as they ride back, making her feel giddy and protected.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

Later on, that evening, after cleaning up and falling asleep side by side, Allison wakes to find his side of the bed cool. Her eyes scan the room, but she can’t see him. The worry in her stomach is what gets her up out of bed and she puts on a robe to go looking for him. 

Mocha eyes finally find him after a few minutes of searching. He’s sitting on a windowsill, his head back against the side of the window exposing his long neck to the moon. His chest is nearly bare, with only a flimsy silk shirt over top. Ethereal is the only word Allison finds to fit him and even it seems not encompassing enough. 

Allison comes up to him and runs her fingers through his hair. “Can’t sleep?” she whispers.

Amber eyes find hers and the sadness in his eyes troubles her. She can tell he’s been crying, which is not something he ever does around her. “Je n'ai pas l'habitude de tuer. Je ne prends pas plaisir à mettre fin à des vies.” His gaze flicks toward the window once more. “Que dois-tu penser de moi maintenant?”

The brokenness of this visage before her, cracks her heart. “You were defending yourself. There is nothing wrong with–”

“No,” he says, interrupting. “I was protecting you.”

“Me?” she says. “They did nothing to–”

“Ils vous objectivaient. J'ai entendu les mots qu'ils ont prononcés. Ils étaient presque pires que Gérard.” His amber eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Ils voulaient avoir des relations sexuelles avec vous et ont parlé de la façon dont ils le feraient. Je ne pouvais pas les laisser te blesser.”

Allison knows Itazura is more than human and that he heard them is only slightly unnerving. 

She gazes at this man who she is completely, and irrevocably in love with, her heart racing. For once she’s the one comforting him. “Thank you. Thank you for protecting me.”

He offers a small, barely there smile and nods. “Toujours. Tout pour vous, Mlle Allison.”

As she drags her fingers through his hair, his eyes slip shut. He hums as her nails scratch gently at his scalp. Allison is fully aware that his vulnerability in this moment isn’t absolute in that he would be ready to fight in a split second but still that he has finally let her close speaks volumes. This man who is the most powerful in the world, lets her touch him. She wonders when he’ll let her close emotionally. He knows her story and she won’t push but she wants to know his story. 

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

It has now been a year since she was rescued from Gerard and Allison has grown even closer with the man she loves. Today they are sitting in the library reading, when she catches him looking at her as though he has something to say.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

Itazura nods and takes a deep breath. “Je veux te parler de ma famille.”

Her eyes widen at the words. “Really?” she asks, shocked and hopeful. “Please do.”

The reply she gives elicits a nervous but fond chuckle from the man and he steadies himself before starting. 

“I wasn’t always a Nogitsune. I used to be a Kasai or Fire Kitsune. My flames were lavender and sometimes mauve if I was more excited.” He pauses and glances toward the window, seeming miles away. “We were happy, my family and I, but then darkness overpowered us, and I lost everyone. There was nothing I could do. I was too late to save them. 

“In my grief and anger, I turned into a dark kitsune also known as a Kukan kitsune or void or dark kitsune. This is why I can do magic, why I fear fire and well there’s more to it than that, but this is the gist of it.” 

Allison doesn’t bother to wipe the tears from her face as she listens. She has no idea what to say to such a story filled with pain and heartache. Before she can come up with a reply, he speaks again. 

“The day I killed Gerard and brought you here, is the day I earned my ninth tail.” He says it so softly it takes Allison a moment to comprehend the words. 

Surprise and awe don’t begin to cover her reaction. She knows enough about kitsune from the books she’s read. She knows that a tail is earned and that he now has all nine is both rare and amazing. 

That does beg the question of his age. “H-How old are you?” she asks.

The man had been tense when telling his story and then relaxed when she didn’t have an immediate negative reaction, but now he tenses again at her question and tries to avoid answering.

“I don’t care about your age, Itazura. I am just curious. You don’t have to tell me.”

He seems to hesitate again but then says, “Physiquement j'ai vingt-trois ans mais mentalement j'ai plus d'un millénaire.”

Though the mental age should scare her, Allison finds herself focused on the physical age being only a couple years older than she. Allison smiles and moves closer, linking their arms together and resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”

“Merci d'avoir écouté mon histoire, Mlle Allison.”

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

On another night that Allison stays with Itazura, when the morning comes, Allison slightly startles when she hears movement. 

Nyx is there again when she opens her eyes. “It’s only me, Miss Allison. You don’t need to be afraid.”

She smiles at him and relaxes once more, her eyes slipping shut.

“Good morning, Itazura,” he says, his eyes on said man. It’s the first time she’s heard the fox use something other than master when addressing Itazura. 

Allison's eyes snap open, not having realized that Itazura was already awake. Her head turns to the side and she is able to see how the sun makes his eyes look more golden. Allison says nothing as she just admires how he looks, and then she looks back at Nyx.

The fox is watching her and smiles softly with a nod of approval.

She blushes, and then just kind of closes her eyes again, humming when she feels Itazura’s long fingers fiddling with her hair. It’s one of her favorite things he does. Him playing with her hair is soothing and the ministrations help her relax more as she lets her mind drift.

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

“Itazura?” 

“Mm?” he hums in acknowledgement from his place at the desk. 

Allison tries to figure out how to ask her question or perhaps questions. There are a few that have been rolling around in her mind and she has almost asked them several times, but how does she word even one of them? How does she turn several questions into one?

She’s been wondering why Nyx is the only one to call the man anything besides Master. She wants to know how and why Nyx is so human like. She knows there is so much she doesn’t know, and her curiosity is ratcheting up the longer the questions go unanswered. 

It’s as though he can read her mind, for when her mocha eyes meet his amber orbs, her mouth open to ask, he smiles softly and says, “Je vous le dirai en temps voulu, Mlle Allison. Je promets.”

The answer isn’t exactly what she wants but knowing he will tell her one day is enough for now. She does take her journal with her and starts noting the differences between Vyxi and Nyx. She jots down blurbs of thoughts and short notes about the way Itazura will sometimes look at her.

Soon, her journal is nearly full and before she can even ask for another, a new lavender leather one is handed to her during dinner one evening. With a blinding smile, dimples on full display, she kisses his cheek, then briefly his lips before heading to the library to continue writing. 

🌹🍃🥀•🖤•🥀🍃🌹

A year and a half after she was rescued, the book in the library that she has been trying to read, finally opens to her. She loses track of time, too deep into the story she’s reading. Allison devours the story about The Malum Massacre of the Great Forest’s Kitsune Skulk. 

When she reaches the end of the book, she shivers, not knowing why the knowledge makes the blood in her veins turn to ice. Something about it feels familiar as though she’s heard it before but as quickly as she has the thought, she dismisses it. There’s no way it’s what she thinks it is. 

After all, Itazura told her his story and he didn’t mention any of this. She misses the way the last page shimmers and shifts, showing a picture of a man and a fox side by side just before it closes. If she had seen it, she would have understood that every word she read was true and the man she loves is far more world worn than she knows.

[vaperarmand]

have you ever seen two people more married in your entire life. please

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[justsumtransdude2000]

QuillKiller's Easy Beginnings

I know that a lot of people enjoy the internalized homophobia narrative in relation to relationships involving DE's and purebloods, and I often enjoy it too, when done correctly. However, QuillKiller is one of the instances where I think, characterization wise, it simply doesn't work. Specifically, I'm thinking when the internalized homophobia narrative is pushed onto Bellatrix.

Why? Well, what do we know about Bellatrix? She is dangerous, clinically insane, murderous and undyingly loyal to whatever she applies herself to, and canonically that thing is the dark lord, yes, but what else? She is self assured. When she battles people she taunts them because she is sure she'll beat them, when she argues she does it sardonically and with the very distinct air of I'm right, you're wrong, fuck off and die before I crucio you. Everything she does is with a sense of superiority and self respect. She knows who she is, and she wouldn't brush that off (especially in her teenage years, because Bellatrix as a teenager was a spitfire and a rebel in one way or another) to replace it with being who she needs to be.

So, when she realizes she's gay she doesn't think, she knows. She isn't afraid of it, or angry at it, guilt doesn't eat her alive about it, she doesn't dread not being the perfect daughter about it, because she's Bellatrix fucking Black, when has she ever been the perfect daughter, and when has trying to ever been fun? But this, her queerness and being able to weaponize it to piss off her family? That's fun. Bellatrix takes everything about herself and sharpens it until it's the perfect thing to ruin people with, especially when she is filled with teenage rebellion and hate.

Enter stage left Rita Skeeter, the openly lesbian trans girl (because fuck Terf-k Rowling, Rita deserves to be queer and trans and she is beautiful because of it) who is in everybody's business and runs a gossip column for Hogwarts. I imagine it starts 3rd year. Bellatrix has discovered this powerful, sharp thing about herself, and there is someone just as self actualized as her. Rita knows who she is, knows how to prove that to people. She runs smear campaigns against people who are transphobic towards her, and occasionally gets in trouble for hexing students who say nasty things, and she is a bit dangerous because of her abilities and Bellatrix loves it. She loves how being close with Rita is this game, loves how she walks a narrow tight rope of being loves and being smeared, loves the adrenaline rush it gives her (because she is so adrenaline junky coded).

And that love for all that Rita Skeeter is turns into love for her in 5th year.

And Rita Skeeter is intrigued by Bellatrix. By her ideology, the way she thinks and acts and is quick witted. The way she defends her so easily, the way curses flow from her wand with ease that Rita can tell is actually years of training and practicing (she ignores the thoughts about who she has had to practice on). And maybe it starts out as a story, but it turns into something else. It turns into this weird feeling in her hears, and sneaking into Bella's dorm, and learning what she likes to eat for breakfast, and wearing each other's ties on purpose and smearing transphobes together, and feelings.

And it's quite easy for them to fall in love.

[amrv-5]

Getting Stockholm syndrome'd by academics lately not even stressed about the fact I have to get thru like 700 pages of last-minute assigned readings between my classes before 9 AM Wednesday. Just chilling. Acknowledging the next 2 days are going to be intense and exhausting but will manage and get thru it a better theorist. Also there's Buster Keaton screening to mark the end of Round 1: Reading Hell

[kavehater]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[braceletofteeth]

If you want to be happy, I hope it comes true.

I hope you will be happy too.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 4 :)

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

this song and whatever the fuck is going on with chip and the abyss

[sillypilled-friendcel]

if something someone you live with does bothers you, you can use your big boy words and talk to them 🙏 except you apparently only know how to throw tantrums when you don't get your way so whatever. honestly the more pissy he gets about the dishwasher the more i avoid it, so suffice to say when he opened the dishwasher before leaving i did my due diligence and closed it 🥰

[rayfishandchips]

this is so anime girl coded but miraculously no out of character for him. Someday I'll have to draw him as a mech anime girl.

Oh Roddy was so alive and young back in mtmte I wish nothing bad ever happens--- (rant in tags)

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Girls when the end of Sketchbook Week fills them with a melancholic yet unimaginable gratefulness and a contradictory nostalgia for the present moment. Girls when the feeling of community that was already there was enhanced by an event and they're emotional over people on their phone

[seaofreverie]

Anyway.... Back to what I was pondering earlier today... It's been 4 months but I'm still as deeply obsessed with Exotic Creatures of the Deep as at the very start

[lilgynt]

honestly fine with gale as far as how he responds and feels about counter violence to the capitol like i get why katniss is like i hate how he treats innocent human beings like they’ve personally responsible for his suffering and doesn’t know about taking a life up close like she’s right but also he’s thinking big picture during a war and doesn’t help most of his thoughts about the capitol or said war are proven right - like when he’s like is it safe to have everyone gathered here at the hospital and katniss is thinking yeah this can’t be healthy or encourage healing and he’s thinking no they’re gonna be targeted bc they can’t run and are useless for capitol use and bam what happens. he’s right in his own way half the time but what annoys the fuck me about him is him being like so pushy about his feelings even when he KNOWS katniss is completely oblivious to that kind of stuff and keeps blindsiding her with it and getting mad at her for not knowing what to do with that info even with the fact that she found out at like. the worst time of her life when she was stuck in a situation she would have a very hard time getting out of safely with everyone she loves and holds it against her she cares about peeta at all and the whole you only care about me in pain and all i could think is i’ll never compete with how much pain peeta is in so i lost it’s like so you understand how katniss operates is mostly out of concern and worry romantically wise bc she hasn’t had a chance to care about this shit outside of like oh who i am hurting/killing with my choices and then are STILL like im gonna kiss her then stop bc she’s obviously not into it at the moment for the right reasons and it’s like kissing drunk i get he’s like a teenager and is a dumb shit but also leave that girl alone for the love of GOD