#its supposed to look crunchy

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

obsessed with pep's unlocking crowbar. where did he get that

^ this was in the wizard city level

[gawkgokgok]

Silence of the lambs

Aemond Targaryen x Daemons daughter!reader

summary: You and Aemond married for the peace of the realm even though you disliked each other. Peace is the last thing you would find in your chambers...

warnings: MDNI, subtle violence, reluctant kissing, choking, attempted rape, a bit of a praise, tiddies!, all this but its suppose to be hurt/comfort😭😭 almost 2.3k

a/n: this is the first and probably the last thing I'll ever write. just had some fun and decided to share it here.🩵 English ain't my shit, sorry for the mistakes. hope this won't be a waste of your time divider credit @cafekitsune (hope that's okay) :P

Cold.

Cold and distant.

Two moons passed since your wedding day. Even though you shared chambers, you limped to get used to each other. Stiff. Not present. If you talked, it would be the smallest, briefest conversations only about necessary. Usually it was silence. That’s all you knew. And perhaps it was for the best...

Silence in the morns. Silence in the day. Silence in the nights. Most familiar whisper of your rooms was crunchy fire. The only thing that kept this place from turning into a dungeon.

Dungeon with chains lost on the eyes.

You returned tired to your shared coffins. Spending your evening with pregnant Helaena and her twins. Playing until little offsprings got tired and ready for their cribs. You seeked change. Anything, just to get the obese hours pass quicker.

Hands of wind grabbed your ankles and planted shivers across your skin. Balcony door was wide open. He stood there. Face in his palms. Or so you thought. His back was covering any chance of view. You pursed your lips. Should you worry? Should you talk to him? Would it make things worse?

The slouching of his shoulders made you sigh and slowly approach. You ideated running your palm across his broad form to soothe him. But you feared of overstepping.

"Did something happen?" It was quiet. Not particularly soft, but quiet.

Your eye caught his arms tensing up. You hated that your presence and voice made him like this. You didn’t care at first, but it was becoming frustrating.

He didn't look at you. He was quiet for a long moment before he put you back in your place. "...nothing happened."

You stared at his nape, covered by waves of moonshine. He was being difficult, and you just wanted to go to sleep and close the damn doors. Curling your tongue in your mouth, you gathered strength to stay calm.

"Are you alright?"

You felt his anger grow. The last thing he wanted was your concern and your worry. "I’m fine." He cut the air with his teeth.

Your heart stilled at his harsh tone. Overstepping. You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and warily stepped back into your chambers. You didn’t wish to argue. Deep down you preferred silence over arguments. If he doesn’t wish to speak of what’s troubling him, who are you to press matters?

You left him to his thoughts. Retreating with tail between your legs as you started getting yourself ready for the bed.

You were used to him hiding his feelings away, but whenever you would show concern (as rare as it was) or try to ask about anything, the storm would just take over his mind. He had no interest to trust you and you respected that. Not like you shared many of your thoughts to him either. To anyone, really. Being the daughter of the man he hated, you understood... to certain extents.

You heard the balcony door close just as you moved the covers under which you planned to hide and let your body and mind rest. He strode over to you, his hand grasping around your upper arm as he turned you around to face him. You gasped in shock and before you could wince from his iron grip, your mouth was muffled by his. Pushing your lips apart with his restless tongue, forcing cold shivers down your spine as he tried to drown you in his control.

You didn’t know what scared you more, his assault or his sudden behavior. You couldn’t tear your arm away. You couldn’t arch your head away. You couldn’t even welcome air in your system. Liquid in your veins was gaining adrenalin. You were almost trembling from fear. You started expecting the worst...

He scoffed at your whines of protest and pushed you on your back, slamming you on the soft mattress. You winced slightly when you hit the bed. Short-term pain quickly overshadowed by terror. His body savaged over yours in an instant.

"Ae- Aemond, what are you- what’s gotten into you!?"

He was deaf as he started pulling your night shift up. And you looked up at him with wide and terrified eyes, unable to fight back his strength. Whatever was dancing in his sharp violet one... it smelled rotten.

"What's gotten into me?" His voice was strained as he fought to keep your limbs in place. A low, mocking laugh rang as he focused his gaze on your heaving chest. "Lets find out."

Your eyelids strained even more. Throat drying up. Breath hitching out of control along with your shaking body.

The only time you consummated was on your wedding night. It wasn’t pleasant. It didn’t hurt, but you weren’t enjoying it. And you knew he didn’t either. This was completely out of the blue and his rage was blood-freezing.

You were scared, yes, but you were more scared of the idea what would happen if you started actually resisting... He never hit you, but the tales of his temper rolled around the corridors like plague.

Dark pleasure filled his stare. He could see the hesitation in you, the tremble and fear. But he didn't care. He knew he had you right where he wanted. His bruising touch on your skin felt ten times heightened now that you fell completely out of control. Getting hunted down...

"Good. That's good..."

Aemond praised with a twisted smile. His hand moved from your wrists to your neck, his large hand wrapping around you and holding you down. You shivered when his palm had more control over your breathing than you. His other hand passed along your body, feeling every curve and angle of your frame. Your breath couldn’t even hitch every time his fingers grazed over your plush stomach and waist. Your fists bagged the sheets firmly and you shut your eyes as you let him do what he wanted.

He was lost in his own desire, in his own lust. Ignoring your discomfort. He just needed to satisfy his needs. He needed to let out his frustration somehow. Or on someone... He continued roaming his hands across your body, touching you like you were a toy.

"You're so beautiful..."

Your eyes shot opened as you heard his mumbles. Seeing how he was fixated on your body, you took the chance before the damage could be done. Marital rape was not on your list tonight. You bit your tongue and dared to touch him, cupping his cheek. "...Can-... can you at least tell me what's wrong?...Please."

His jaw clenched. Your touch was so soft, so gentle and so different from the grip he had on you. It took him by surprise. His eyes locked with yours. He was quiet for a moment, the darkness in his gaze fading for a quickly-lost moment.

"It's nothing. There's nothing wrong." He muttered through gritted teeth, moving his head to the side to avoid your warm hand. His brows twitched into a frown and his hands hooked in your smallclothes.

Your fingers curled into a fist before you let your hand drop. You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know how to calm him. How to reason him. How to talk to him.... You were his wife and you had no clue how to handle him. Bitterness stashed your mouth. You sighed heavily. He already had your mound bare.

"..this won’t solve whatever’s bothering you." You tried to sound calm. Tried to appear like you weren’t fighting for the right over your body right now.

He huffed, becoming more and more irritated with you. Pushing your nightgown over your chest. His voice was low and ragged as he saw how cool air affected your nipples.

"It would. It can. At least for a moment.."

"Please, let me help you.." ..somehow, you hoped. Carding your hand through his silver locks, pulling the strands back so they weren’t falling over your faces as he loomed over you.

"....I’ll listen. I promise." And you meant it. You’d do anything to avoid this situation. If it meant behaving like a proper loving wife who listens and cares, you would do it. Despite the resentment you hold for each other.

Your gazes locked as he listened to your pointless rambles. There was a flicker of hesitation, but he flashed it away with a mutter as he cupped your breasts. "It's nothing. I just had a bad day."

"Then let me hear about your day."

You covered his big hands with yours and you felt him twitch. Surprise washed over his face as he looked back up your eyes once again. You noticed his observing eye roam over your features and you softened your whole demeanor. You meant it. You were fucking tired of this. The silence. The distance. The feeling of constant unwelcomeness. You just wanted to enter your chambers ONCE and be relaxed in his presence...

Looking at you, seeking sincerity and curiosity in your eyes, he closed his own and sighed. "It was tiresome, lots of meeting, training, planning for the future... everything that’s expected of me."

You nodded slowly, listening to every word that rolled off his tongue. And you noticed it. A silver of honesty, perhaps even trust. Your nails skied up his arm, gently scratching his nape. You wanted to make him as calm as possible. "...you’re tired..?"

Aemond let out a low purr, his eye fluttering shut. "Hm."

You pulled his shoulders so he would lay down on you, wrapping arms around his neck. You felt tension all over his body, but you didn’t care. If he thinks he can do whatever he wanted with you, so could you with him. You tucked his head under your chin.

You were trying to value his emotions. As hard as it was... you understood what he meant. You didn’t know every detail of his training nor his council meetings, but you knew what it meant to be drained. Exhausted. And that was enough to make you empathic.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged and heavy. You held him tighter, your arms getting a rush of protectiveness. Letting him find shelter in your embrace. Solace in your arms. Peace in your scent and warmth. You wanted to make him feel heard and seen. He held onto you, his arms wrapping around your waist as if he was holding onto for dear life. You felt it. You sensed the shift. He was allowing you to see him. To see his vulnerability. To dive below the surface of his thick skin.

"It's just too much sometimes. I don't know if I can do it anymore." You felt his lips brush along your skin as he mumbled quietly.

"I know. I know it is, but draining yourself to the last drop isn’t doing you any good. And satisfying everyone’s expectations is impossible."

You tried to comfort him. And seeing this softer side of him. This... lost, broken boy. It made you desire gentleness towards him.

"...I know you don’t like being told what to do, but I’m advising you... let that dumb old cunt go. Otto is not worth your time or energy. He never was. Ungrateful people don’t deserve the effort you’re putting up, Aemond."

From your FAR point of view you knew enough. You knew why Aemond was the way he was. Even though you struggled to understand his dark motives most of the time, you understood where he was coming from. And being a child loved only under conditions does that to a person. You secretly admired that he’s still standing and isn’t reaching for cups like Aegon.

"I know. It’s hard to see it and let go, especially when that someone is your family..."

You sighed, plucking the right words...

"...but I’m your family now."

Even though your marriage has been distant and cold, you still had time to change that... right?

His silence made you chew your lips nervously. You really had no idea what you were doing nor saying... He shifted slightly to look at you, his eye overflowing with emotions. He didn't say anything, just looked at you, searching your face for something.

"I know you didn’t choose me. I know I didn’t choose you. I know we agreed only for the greater good, but... I’m tired sometimes as well. I wish we didn’t resent each other."

You whispered honestly while taking in his pained expression. It broke your heart knowing even you, his wife, struggled to give him the care and affection.

He took a deep breath and gently touched your cheek, his fingertips lightly caressing your skin. "I'm sorry for the way I've been... towards you." He whispered and pulled the nightgown down, covering your body.

You leaned into his touch. Wanting him to know that he’s welcome to you from now on. Your smiled even though you were terrified when he jumped you. "...it’s our first time being married, right?"

Aemonds eye wrinkled, a small, barely-there smile tugged the corners of his lips.

It was nice to see him smile, even if the situation was far from funny, but he was calm. And that’s all that mattered to you.

Warm.

Warm and close.

Silence. That’s all you knew. And yet... it felt good. It felt right.

You helped him with the buttons of his leather doublet. Changing him in his night clothes as you both exchanged soft looks and amused smiles. You hid under the sheets and cuddled until you let lambs bounce your minds away. You let him sleep in your chest.. cling to you.. seek your comfort. And you didn’t even wish to think about denying him. For the first time, you felt truly at peace in his presence. You will be the wife he needs.

[brainfuzz]

I am very picky about Things in my food. Raspberry Things are allowed, cherry and blueberry Things are not, and strawberry rides a fine line.

i think all yogurt needs to be labeled as to whether or not it has fruit bits in it, like orange juice is with pulp. for autism purposes

[notthecutesttrash]

Nostalgia

Content: Sukuna found himself intrigued by your spunk, and when he notices that Yuji is struggling to overpower him one day, he finally has a little fun.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ DARK, NONCON, readers a bit obnoxious at first, time skip for obvious reasons, Smut, suffocation, no like actually, blood, loss of virginity, fingering, hair pulling, spanking

Word count: 4.3k

The school is blatantly empty today, which was rather boring. You had decided from the moment you woke up, that this would be the day you saw Sukuna’s supposed vessel. How disappointing to notice everything so empty, like an abandoned building. No Gojo, no other first years, whatever. It was all lame. 

Huffing to yourself you open the door to another spacious classroom with zero people intact. You thought to even check the nurse’s office, only to see Ieiri doing who knows what with the bodies there. She turns up at you as blood adorns her lab coat,  “Oh, hey, what’re you doing here?” You blink and close the door. She shrugs and diverts her attention back to work. 

Where else could they be? Principals room? Sealed room? Ah possibly there. 

You make way for the chambers, passing the empty hallways. The year above you's class is more than interesting. There's a panda, a dude who speaks in rice ball ingredients, and a zen’in lady. The lady was also able to keep up with your rude remarks which was amusing.

As you walk you hear small far away grunts. Humming, you curiously begin to switch directions, and near the sounds of groaning and “Hyah’s!”

From far away, you’re able to see a faint, puffy pink-haired man slapping a training dummy with a weird fuzzy blade. He’s so caught up in training that he doesn’t notice you, so you watch, judging his stance and how he struggles while dragging his breaths.

He’s doing it all wrong.

Though you’re amused at the pure confidence brimming in his expression; he was almost cute it's laughable. Eventually, that makes its way from your mouth, and he shifts to you, completely oblivious that you were even there that whole time. He’s a bit taken aback, and you near closer to see him.

“Um.. who are you?” He asks, dumbfounded. 

You press your hands to your waist ignoring the question and direct one back at him “Are you a first-year?” 

“Yeah. Are you one of those second years? Did you guys already come back from your mission?” 

You shake your head, and point to him exclaiming loudly, “No, I’m with you! Yuji Itadori!” 

He blanks, “Uh.. okay..” you squeal, throwing your hands in the air. 

“I knew it! Sukuna picked you? Look at that, you’re so innocent looking, you’re not even holding that blade right.” You giggle to yourself obnoxiously and he tilts his head, a small flicker of annoyance inside him. 

“Actually, he didn’t pick me, I just swallowed one of his fingers and-“ you cut him off with a sound of disgust. 

“You did that willingly? Ugh, how interesting, what did it taste like? Was it crunchy? Gooey? Was it old?” 

He ponders for a moment before answering, “Old, definitely old, and wrinkly.. and his fingernails are sharp.” 

“Ew.” You cringe at the thought, and he tilts his head to ask, “So, what are you here for?” 

Shrugging, you think. “I just wanted to see,” you answer vaguely. Being Sukuna’s vessel is more than interesting, considering it’s been what, hundreds of years? 

He opens his mouth to speak and you look at his cursed tool, probably one that was given to him by Gojo. Something in you wants to admit the morbid curiosity of seeing Sukuna, but in reality, you know that would be terrible.

“So, how does that work? Do you just have him inside of you? Does he talk? Do you hear him? See him like a ghost and he talks to you, is he standing here right now?” You ramble all your ideas at him and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. You were definitely weirding him out.

“No nothing like that, though I do hear him every now and then. It’s sort of annoying.” He points to the back of his hand, “or he’ll show here.” You tilt your head, weird. 

You move close to him, enough to invade his personal space. You lift your hand and he’s confused, then you dive it down on his head, patting the fluff. 

Beaming, you pet him mockingly while cooing, “I heard you’re going on your first real mission tomorrow, how exciting.” 

Yuji lightly slaps your hand away, grumbling, “Can you not do that?” he steps back so you would no longer be at arm’s length.

You smile. Truthfully, you were planning on being more annoying. Why? Well, you're not sure. You quite liked him instead, he was cute, and you know you're going to enjoy teasing him often. He's still fussing over his hair as you think until you twirl away with a laugh.

“Hey, tell Sukuna I said hi when he saves your ass from death.” You stick your tongue out at him and Yuji furrows his brows immediately. That annoyed him.

Safe to say, Sukuna was definitely amused by you since then.

Yuji is your boyfriend, and he's someone you love to death even if you can still tease the heck out of him. But you've calmed since then. And through the years nothing ever came of Sukuna. Many times you had even forgotten he existed.

Occasionally you two would get food together, and sometimes you had a morbid curiosity when remembering after all this time. 

“Does Sukuna still talk to you?” You’d ask and he’d turn his head to the side with a grave expression. He knows, but he never admits.

“No, not really," he'd mumble to himself. You’d nod in response, giving him a knowing gaze. Was it really that bad? 

Yes. 

From the day he first met you to now, all that was always on the curses mind was how he just wanted to kill everyone and have fun with the punk’s lively girlfriend. Luckily, that day never came, and it never will. 

That was until.. he got sick of course. 

You’re patting the washcloth against Yuji’s head, a worry setting a deep frown on your face. His breathing is heavy, and he's panting with a newfound flame that burns in his forehead. He’s hotter than you’ve ever felt, it was almost inhuman. No reverse curse technique seemed to have been helping, no doctor, no medicine, no bath, no rest, just nothing was working. 

You’re rushing to look through Yuji's cabinets. There has to be something here that you haven’t seen before. No simple pain medications would help, nothing generic. You pick up a bottle, maybe this one? It was a herbal medicine, and you knew it was a fat chance, but you’re desperate. So you rush back to Itadori and pour him a small cup of water near the pills. 

“Hey, Yuuji.. baby,” you lightly caress his cheek, but to no avail. His skin is steaming, and his eyes are clasped shut.

You frown and take the pills in your hands, pouting at what you have to do. You open his mouth and drop the pills in lightly, holding his head up at a good position, then making sure a very small amount of water is poured in so he won’t choke. This reminded you of something, but you weren’t sure of what. 

Setting the cup back down you stare at it, then him, then gasp as a bad thought strikes you. Sukuna. The only person who can heal him. 

You can’t do that. Sukuna only works for his own gain. He probably wouldn’t even care if he died with Yuji. But still, you won't just let that happen.

Albeit.. are you really going to allow possibly hundreds, if not thousands to die by his hands just because you selfishly want one man to live? Emotional connection or not, that wasn’t smart. Or is it?

Yuji is probably the only person who could hold Sukuna off- or not probably, he is the only person who can hold him off. Maybe besides Gojo, but that didn’t count when it came to a literal internal affair. 

Either way, the fingers are all stowed somewhere. Surely you could find one. but still, you’d rather not have the god of curses of all beings roam around. You knew Yuji wouldn’t want that either, in fact, he’d probably be disappointed.

You sigh and pat Yuji’s head, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. “Hope you get better… I’m gonna go now, okay?” You stand and stare at him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you, or respond. You were sure he was deep in there somewhere, maybe even kicking Sukuna’s ass.

Sighing, you arrive at your home and slam your back into the bed, draping a hand over your forehead. You’re exhausted. Lately, you’ve just been spending days and nights at his house.

Sometimes you aren’t able to sleep depending on the day, this time might be one of those, but you aren't sure.

Battling with the idea of Yuji’s worsening sickness and Sukuna’s possible revival made you almost get a migraine.

You glance at the time. It’s already been a full hour, and your corneas are burning from the lack of sleep. Alright.. suppose it was time. You sigh and make yourself comfy, curling in a small ball before closing your lids. 

When you awake, there’s a blur in your eyes as you tiredly open them. It’s dark and when you glance at the window you’re thinking it’s maybe 2 AM. 3? Rolling over to your side, you pull your leg up and get comfy again, groaning at how hot your pillow now is. Lifting your head to turn it, you slam back down comfortably, a flicker of pink in your sight. Yawning, you rub your eyes and blink at whatever that could be, but decide eh, whatever, it’s your room, nothing out of the ordinary. What you needed was sleep for tomorrow. 

Shuffling, you clutch your pillow and squeeze it against you, loving the feel of the brisk cold that rubs against your cheek and satiates the heat of your neck. Closing your eyes with a small moan, a faint chuckle sounds near you. Blinking your eyes open, a jolt of fear slithers down your spine, and you raise your upper half and rotate to survey the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re tired, just hearing things.

Huffing, you press yourself against the pillow again and clench your eyes shut. Just go to sleep damn it.

This time you heard an audible step. Your heart sped into your chest and you forced yourself to rotate the other way. You’re just hearing things, lack of sleep will do that to you, it’s been a long day too, so surely it’s that.

Step. It must be a curse, but you didn’t feel anything, so it had to just be you. If you go to sleep now, then it’ll all be gone. Just keep closing your eyes and when you open them again it’ll be morning.

Step. You squeaked at the sound and the creak in the floorboards. That’s when you heard another chuckle.

“How long are you going to feign sleep?” A raspy deep voice erupts a squeal from you. 

Turning shakily, you struggle to adjust to the lighting as you see a familiar figure ahead. “Yuji?” Your small voice whispers out. He grins wide. No, something was not right here. Yuji didn’t have markings or whatever this was on him, and he never kept his bangs back.

When you glanced down to study his body you froze. There was a hole in his chest, not an incision, not a Halloween effect, a full-on hole that you could look inside of. Blood was dripping from the wound, but it seemed as if it was drying judging by the goop. 

A realization hits you, and you gasp, your body shaking under the weight of Yuji- no Sukuna's gaze. His smile is large, and his dark orbs glow red in the darkness. “Y-You’re…” you hold your breath.

“H-How..?” You’re still whispering, tremoring as nears your features. He suddenly laughs loudly, cackling horribly with that new voice of his. It echoes into your ears and makes your heart drop. This was it, you were going to die. 

“You see, I was planning on having fun with that other lively girl. But, because of the brat’s affection for you, I have decided to pick you first.” He has a rumble in his hoarse throat when he verbalizes, and a horrifying smile still paints his face. You’re stuck, shaking in your spot.

“A-Are you..” you struggle to think of the words, your voice cracking as he gleams at you. “Going to.. kill me..?” Sukuna’s grin widens, and finally, you can see the way his double pair of eyes glimmer even in the lack of light. 

“After you’ve quenched my insatiable thirst, then yes.”

He takes a moment, pausing to press his hand against his chin as he thinks. “Or perhaps I’ll bond you to a life of servitude, whatever amuses me more at the moment.”

You know he’s more than serious. You had to do anything, talk, and keep on conversing until he got bored. Reason with all your might. 

You attempt to continue as you swallow hard. “B-But… Yuji will switch back.” He had to switch back, right? Won’t he? Or does the hole in his heart not prove to you enough that he won’t be able to? 

“Unless the punk wants to die, then he’ll have to be my guest. But he seems to be struggling at the moment, so, I’m going to take my sweet time with you.”

He gets close, his finger twirling around your hair. 

You bawl your fist into the sheets. You have to escape. You have to. Your legs quietly press beneath you, as if readying for a sprint.

“If you so as flinch I’ll make quick work of your death.” 

Suddenly you’re rigid as can be, terrified that the quaking in your heart and the stammering in your hands would get you killed. All you’re doing is heaving, barely able to meet his gaze. 

“Now bow.” He commands and you quickly rush to cradle your head between your hands that lay flat against the bed. He enjoys the scene, delighting in the fear. 

A second passes, and you’re flipped on your back with a strength you’ve never felt before. It was enough to bruise you just from the sheer weight. He lifts his clawed finger and suddenly your clothes are ripped, and before you can think to cover yourself with a blanket or anything he’s over you, staring into your desperate eyes. 

He was truly a pure evil that no one could think to reach. 

Tears are forming. You’re terrified. “Please don’t,” you mutter weakly.

He cackles loud enough for you to flinch. He won’t kill you yet.

The glimmer of his teeth when he grins wide makes you gasp. He’s snickering to the point it becomes manic laughter, and it makes you sick to your stomach. It sounded nothing like Yuji. His laughs are always a lot lighter and sweet. 

Sukuna sighs longingly to himself, trailing his fingers down your body as you cry.  “It’s been a thousand years, and I will never stop delighting in these sweet whimpers.” His palm meets your cunt. He presses against your clit hard and you squeal out from the pain. He doesn’t care for your enjoyment. All he wants to do is force himself down your tight hole and release every bit of cum he's had stored up for years. 

“To believe the fool hadn’t claimed you, what a shame.. for him. A treasure to me.” He’s chuckling as he kneads your clit more. It’s impatient and mean, but it gets you wet enough. His middle finger promptly shoves inside you, and you whine at the pain, curling your toes into the bed. Blood drips from the wound, lubricating his finger to pulse into you more. Sukuna grins at the liquid, and he’s purposely speeding up his pace. 

Tears swell in your eyes. You always wanted to save yourself for Yuji. Save yourself for the perfect moment.. and Sukuna just took everything away from you. 

“A thousand years and I get a virgin, ah I just delight in it, this is going to be fun.” His eyes are glimmering wide, brimming with joy as he adds another finger. You hiss at the sudden discomfort. His other hand moves to your neck, but it pauses, just hovering above it. You gulp tightly, scared for what was to come. 

“On second thought,” he pulls away and uses his free hand instead to circle your clit harshly. You’re tensed up, quivering with the pain of him spearing you mercilessly while gasping at the pleasure of your clit.

"I wouldn’t typically allow you the pleasure to breathe, but since you’ve never felt this, your cries will satisfy me more," Sukuna grins. If it wasn’t for the need to stretch you out, he wouldn’t be doing this at all. But he enjoys the way your cunt attempts to swallow his fingers whole as if attempting to expel him. He forces another in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. You’re hands are clutched around your sides desperately as you moan and cry.

His fingers are fucking you furiously, eventually attaining a pleasant amount of wetness from your cunt. The obscene sounds feel as if they’re blaring in the room. You’re still tense as could be, but once he finally takes them out, you slump in response, heaving in relief. 

Sukuna chuckles evilly at the slick surrounding his fingers. As if it wasn’t a moment ago that he had just broken you and stretched you wide. 

“Ah, virgins. So easily excitable.” He breathes in delight to himself. You’re quivering, attempting to remain stiff, but every time his hand grazes your skin you flinch. You forcefully drape your arm over your sight while streams roll down your cheeks. Whenever you would glimpse at him all you wanted to do was cry and run. 

There’s no remorse in him, no guilt, nothing but happiness as he lives his fantasy. 

You feel his tip suddenly poke at your entrance, and you don’t even feel how clenched up you are. Your teeth are dragging against one another in anticipation, and he attempts to push in. You can’t help but peek fearfully, and you tighten at the sight. Sukuna gazes at you, annoyed. You shiver. Did you move? Did you do something wrong?

Quickly you’re spun around, your chest landing on the bed and your face bouncing off the pillow. Your view is met with the headboard. You can’t see anymore, and you panic. Your head moves up and you attempt to turn your body to fixate on him. He forces you back down instantly with a grip on your scalp. It tightens and you're shoved into your pillow hard.

When you attempt to move, the strength increases. His sharp fingernails are grazing your skin, almost drawing blood. You can’t breathe. You try to take an inhale and you’re stopped by the force of the pillow stuffing and blocking your airway. 

Without warning your pussy is spread wide by his cock and you scream incoherently. He instantaneously groans loudly at the warmth that meets him. His gaze turns to the ceiling, and his eyes are practically rolled to the back of his head as he relishes the feeling. He’s been waiting centuries for this exact moment. This scene has been revolving in his mind since day one. The idea of forcing a helpless virgin on their knees and taking them completely.

“Ah, I thought I’d never feel this again.” He exhales a deep breath of satisfaction, “It’s wonderful."

Your tight cunt swarms around his cock, sucking him in helplessly, and he groans, a newfound lust within. You're struggling to swallow his size, quivering as you feel your pussy forcefully stretch. You cry into the pillow, convulsing beneath him. He’s usually a patient man, but not this time. 

He moves, gripping your head tight and pulling you down while he begins to pound you murderously. The brutality of his thrusts while you gasp for air has you thrashing around, adamant to get him off of you. He has no care. He'd make sure he would let out all of his frustrations from being in your punk-ass boyfriend’s body for so long. 

“Do I need to remind you of what I’ve said? That would be rather impolite don’t you think?” Sukuna breathes heavily, annoyed by your muffled screams. He rams his cock to the very end of you and back. He's huge, and it burns endlessly when he thrusts. You’re shouting against the fabric, desperately attempting to shake off the force and lift yourself for just one inhale. He was going to kill you and defile your body. This is how you’re going to die, in the worst possible way. 

He’s using you like a mere plaything. Eventually, the pressure rushing to your head starts to make your vision go dark. You limp against him as he fucks you senseless. Sukuna starts cackling, and he pulls your weak head up, watching you come to life with a heavy inhale. Tears are pouring down your cheeks, drool falling from your lips as you greedily heave. He's still bucking his hips sharply into you, slapping your ass hard.

Sukuna would've sneered, but there was a large amount of impatience beginning to surge. “Now, if I need to remind you again, then the next you won’t be breathing. Not that it matters to me. But you wouldn’t like that, would you?" His tone is dark, and you shake your head a complacent no. Anything to not go through that again. 

“Good."

He slaps your ass with a rush of strength, making you jitter against him. He pulses into you, enjoying the way your pussy is now melting into a wet slop. 

“It appears you enjoy this just as much as I.” You’re sputtering with your breaths, unable to even hear him chuckling as he slams into you. Your hair is suddenly pulled back. Sukuna is grabbing a fistful and the ache in your neck has you groaning uncomfortably. 

You’re moaning nonsensically and his pace is merciless.  “How cute, maybe I will keep you alive.” 

His tug is impossible to push back at, and you yelp when he pulls you even further. He’s still slapping your ass repeatedly and you’re squeezing tight around him at every hit. His force is painful, and he finds it amusing. He only thrusts himself to the brink of his own orgasm while yanking you like a rag doll and stretching you wide. 

You’re whining desperately as he speeds up, and a jolt of electricity rises. It pulses into a quivering release while you slur incoherently, subconsciously circling your hips into him.

Sukuna breathes hard against you, merciless excitement running through his veins as he pulls you back hard and fucks your exhausted core, all while you still ride out your climax. He finally hits deep inside of you, reaching the furthest his cock can and even more. There's a sudden warmth in your walls as a heavy thick stream of cum pours inside of you.

“How I miss this.” Sukuna exhales loudly, nearly moaning at the sweet release. His clutch on your skin is still tight, causing you to jolt beneath him. 

And It was only a few moments that had passed before he left your sore cunt, only to push himself back in and slam into you. You’re a slop, whining desperate slurs into your pillow as he fucks you senseless.

You don't know how much time passed, but it never stopped. You found yourself eventually heaving and imagining a place where this wasn’t happening. Where Yuji was alive and he was the one taking you instead. 

Sukuna had whirled you around, pushing himself deep into you, his tongue dragging against your neck. Your legs are barely gripping his as he pounds you beneath him. His grasp was tight on the sheets beside you, and you were just relieved it wasn’t on your skin anymore.

Suddenly a rush builds and you’re whining loudly, your thighs feeling a new strength as you clasp around him. Your hands don’t dare to grab him, but as you lose yourself in your orgasm you can’t help the way you claw at his back. Sukuna pulses into you and lets out another stream of cum. The eventual number you didn’t know. Tears were rolling down your face, you're tired, you just want it to stop.

“No more.. please,” you whisper desperately. 

Sukuna snickers into your neck, breathing not nearly as hard as you were. He pulls himself from your throbbing hole and you still manage to whine at the loss. Relief follows swiftly, and the cum that clogs itself inside of you drips slowly.

“Did you think a mere few climaxes would be enough for me? You truly don’t understand.” His tone gets low as he grins. “I am going to keep playing with you until I get bored.” You pant exhaustedly, barely able to register his words. You just want to go to sleep.

As quick as that relief had come, it diminished the moment he buried himself in your cunt again. You whimper and let out a choked breath, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. His deep breath brushes your skin, his groan rumbling something deep within you. 

“And yet you have joined them all so wonderfully. It’s been so long since I had a woman keep up with me,” he beams wide with that evil sparkling in his red eyes.

“I’ve decided I’ll let you live. I’ll keep you by my side whenever I feel the need to use you.” At his words, sobs begin to overtake you. He grips your arms tight, pushing into you repeatedly and cackling maniacally.

You would never be free from that grating sound ever again. 

[vagabond-umlaut]

for love is flesh, it is a flower flooded with blood

you're ravishing while gojo is ravenous— rabidly so.

gojo x fem!reader; everyone is 18+ here; somewhat one-sided enemies to lovers; the summary explains more than any no. of tags can ever; tw: cannibalistic tendencies & blood & violence [nothing of the like happens tho!!]; tw: mentions of throwing up and being sick; SATORU IS PINING HERE, AND IT AIN'T A PRETTY SIGHT TO GAZE ON; he seriously needs to go to therapy; unestablished relationship; there's fluff too, dw; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

fic title from 'poem of the end' by marina tsvetaeva // header from pinterest // divider by @/adornedwithlight // jjk isn't mine

gojo wants to eat you whole.

too ridiculous, even for him— is it not?

maybe... maybe not... the man does not know. he decidedly does not care— not when you're there beside him. seeming this delectable. an alluring treat for his palate— he's surer of this than of the ridges in his palms.

you stir in your sleep.

something gnaws at his heart. shifts in the hollow of his stomach.

strengthening when your features relax. worsening when your mouth twitches, its shape pleased. settling down when your mien flattens in its wonted neutrality.

gojo bites back a groan. only to sigh noisily when you shuffle closer.

years ago, were anyone to tell him that one day he would be seconds away from dying from pangs of an indescribable hunger— agonising, antagonising— for someone catnapping in the seat next to his. in an overcrowded train, sickeningly so, at 10 on a monday morning—

he would have punched the informer. perhaps sent them into a coma if the day wasn't treating him very well... but then again.

you're not just someone, are you?

a bite of candy: so crunchy. refreshing. sweet. when his brain is a bit too tired. a bit too sluggish. a bite of mango: its addicting sweetness dancing on his taste buds. trickling down the corner of his lips. more than welcome after a year of wait. a sip of hot chocolate: the warmth of the drink, homely and sweet. lulling him into a dreamless sleep as he nestles in his childhood blanket. a sip of water: supposed to taste bland, but tastes so sweet. sweeter than nectar, after training—

it's confusing, even for gojo.

but the man believes you'll taste akin a mix of all these he has listed—

he stops. and wonders. will this hunger of his be satiated if he steals away only a small taste of yours? it won't be anything much!! maybe not even a taste, now that he thinks about it... just a touch.

yeah.

yeah, yeah, yeah. it'll be one and only one touch. and nothing more—

can he reach out and caress your cheek once?

he can... obviously, he can. there is nothing he, the strongest, cannot! but... what if his need manifests claws.

what if his need tears at the delicate skin. gouges the soft flesh there — deriving an animalistic, depraved pleasure from the rivers of blood which would be flowing—

no sooner does the image flutter into gojo's mind, than he screws his eyes shut and resolutely burns it. brain already whirring with the next possible course of action. something better. something cleaner—

can he intertwine his fingers with you then?

they look so small. they look so pretty. just so perfect. as if they have always been meant to slip into the gaps between his fingers. erasing the emptiness from there. and from within the fissures formed in his self, for once and for all time— ah.

but what if he squeezes your hand too hard.

what if he bruises you and breaks your bones, in his attempts to allay his craving for you. to mitigate his madness for you. the violet colour blooming on your unblemished skin. the following crack! and crunch! of your frail bones beneath his unyielding grasp. beneath the teeth of his hunger—

no, no, never, never, never!

a wave of something bitter, something bilious rolls through the man.

he draws in a deep breath— and pauses.

gojo can't touch you without hurting you, but he definitely can lean in a little closer... and get a whiff of your perfume, right?

not anything much, it'll be nothing at all. and it isn't like, the moment he tilts himself towards you, he's going to grow fangs— fangs, all too ready to sink into the column of your neck. thirsty for the feel of your blood. the tiny beads of it on his tongue, sweet. yes, addictively so— and maybe, since he's already there... he can leave a loving sign from his side on your skin. dark red. enticing, but defintely not as much as the taste of you. certain to linger in his mouth. persist in his thoughts— conscious and everything not. even after it's been eons—

the train lurches to a sudden stop.

and with it, does gojo's vivid daydream as well— but he doesn't care.

not when the resulting clamour in the compartment has awoken you. not when your face is gaining a shade of upset. pretty cute, he thinks. but the man also believes such a sight isn't meant for these unworthy souls in this place, so...

how bad then, is it not? that he can do nothing about it. he can't blind these people. nor can he ask you to not make such a face. you simply won't take kindly to either of those—

thus leaving him helplessly watching. shamelessly staring.

the way your eyebrows scrunch closer. lips dip into a small pout, then break apart in a yawn. finally followed by your eyes blinking open. too bleary for such a bright morning, but to gojo, they appear to outshine the sun itself.

it takes you a beat to find your bearings. he waits patiently, keen eyes watching your every movement. every minuscule expression. another yawn spills past your lips, noisier than the previous. making the man's cheeks twinge from the growing stretch of his grin. ribs ache from his swelling heart.

you take another moment to focus your foggy mind on him. frowning as you do. gaze flitting from him to your loud fellow passengers, then back to him.

your frown worsens. gathers a pinch of concern.

"is... everything okay, senpai? you don't look too alright out there."

he doesn't!?!?

no. of-fucking-course, no.

he's the strongest sorcerer in the world, yes. there's no doubt about it— but even he is a little too weak to not grow weary when fighting his irrepressible urges to gorge himself on you...

realising he has been silent for a tad too long, gojo struggles to drag back his fading grin. before deciding to just let go of it. dropping his mouth into the most pitiful shape he can, he grumbles. sounding so aggrieved and in such a terrible pain.

"you seeing this compartment, darling? it's so cramped, so noisy, so very under-ventilated— it's making me wanna puke, babyyy!"

features crumpling up— he chooses not to probe why— you exhale a rather heavy sigh. and retort, "i never asked you to accompany me to work, senpai. you were the one who insisted. who invited himself— 's not my problem if you bite off more than you c— wait a second," you cut yourself off abruptly, eyes becoming rounder and tone turning an awful lot panicked, "you aren't really feeling nauseous, are you? i have few candies and a packet of crackers— you wanna munch on those??— or wait a sec, you can drink some water from my bottle— or... wait. i'll just get up and tell these people to move away. you need some air to breathe freely—"

"will you let me eat you?"

lights flickering, the train shudders into a sudden start.

but gojo's heart stumbles into a stop. when he realises he has spoken something he must have never let see the light of day. something the man must have never let reach you— you might always be wearing an awful tough exterior, but you're rather sensitive beneath it... innocent and sweet, the lamb to his wolf.

the man probably shouldn't, yeah. yet he allows his insides to twist in glee at the face you make— bathed in warm hues as you gape at him.

those brilliant eyes, wide and unblinking. lips parted, not-too-slightly. the rest of your body, so perturbed not one whole minute back, but a little too still now in that uncomfortable seat— gojo wants to... but he decides not to jerk you away from a state as this. it isn't everyday you let him drink the sight of you in a state as this.

it takes you much longer than he expected you to borrow to recover. thirteen seconds versus your usual three.

the train picks up speed in the backdrop.

your face slips behind its mask of placidity. but the concern wrinkling your forehead and furrowing your brows is clear as day for him to see. loud as bells for him to hear when you speak, tone quiet and adorably soft.

"i think you need some rest, senpai. we'll get down at the next station and i'll call ijichi-san to pick you up then drop you home, okay?— i will also ask ieiri-san to check you once— think you've caught some virus, or maybe it's just fatigue. that's why you're looking and feeling so sick— definitely why you're asking me such a question."

gojo doesn't need any foresight to know he will regret his next course of action. very much, if not more than that ask which slipped past the cracks in his defenses— but now? in this specific instant? he reckons he'll regret even more if he doesn't do what he wants to do.

what that hunger within him wants him to do— fuelled by your worry for him. care for him. disbelief for him. the impending doom wherein you'll leave him behind, leave him suffering—

a voice floats through the air, announcing the train to be approaching the next station.

slipping the bag onto your shoulder, you move to stand up. a precious urgency highlighting your actions as you do— only for him to encircle your wrist in his fingers. yanking you back into the seat, before you've even left it entirely. a noise akin a gasp, a stifled gasp, spills past your lips. pinching him, helped by the startled look offered alongside. gojo wills himself to ignore the pain, however.

every sense zeroing in on you. only you. as he tugs you even closer to himself. and murmurs, words uttered, slowly and carefully. meant for you and him only, and not for anyone else outside this bubble he has been building around you both.

"but what if i say you are why i'm so ill, and eating you is the only way i can get cured— will you let me eat you then, darling?"

"i..." you start. but then stop. you look a little breathless, gojo thinks. a little too weak perhaps. your placid mask, a little too close to cracking open, falling to the floor in pieces...

the signs are all gone albeit, before the man can etch any of them to his brain. before he can even know if he was just seeing things.

"senpai," you reply evenly, calmly, "we are deboarding the train at the next station for sure. i'll book a cab there and personally drop you off at the school, yeah? ieiri-san needs to—"

gojo whispers your name.

its syllables, too piercing. too pleading. too foreign on a tongue which has only ever called you by terms of endearment. utterly uncaring for how much you complain. uncaring for the rumors, you've always said his antics will give rise to, when there's actually no fire to give birth to the smoke.

hah, if you only saw the fire melting him from within.

he makes a move to call you by your name yet again. but you cut him off before he can. the pieces of your mask crumble into dust, turning into nothing before he can even register what is happening.

your lower lip trembles. just once. barely noticeably so. "you're crazy. stupidly, unbelievably, insanely crazy— you need to get help, senpai."

you're insulting him. lowkey, highkey, it doesn't matter. nothing does, except the fact you're insulting him.

he doesn't even think before he decides it too doesn't matter.

tightening his grasp on your wrist, he leans towards you. shaping his lips in a grin. maybe a bit too predatory, but eh. if you have read him well enough to suggest needing help, he trusts you to know the kind of reaction he will return.

grin wavering for a beat, when your blood gives a frantic push against his thumb pressing onto your artery, he retorts, "what if i say i'm in no need of any help? what if u say i need you— just you— will you permit me then, huh?"

you probably won't, few voices in his head state. studying the utterly stricken look you're offering him in answer. the man doesn't hesitate to choke them into an eternal silence.

you ask, "will i be okay if i say 'no', senpai?"

"i'm hurt you think you won't be," gojo snaps back with a frown. soft but biting, a pretty intentional action of his. you wince a little. words not even taking one whole second to from before bubbling out.

"okay, yeah— 'm sorry. i know you'll never force me— i'm really sorry," you repeat, features more distressed than he would ever like them to be— he lets his frown smoothen out.

face lightening, he notes your shoulders slump a little— before seeing the way your eyebrows huddle together. he acutely registers you shift closer to him. voice ringing in his ears when you state rather than ask, "but you won't be okay if i say 'no', will you?"

"no," the word escapes him, as quiet as a breath the moment the last syllable leaves you—

sucking in a staggering breath, he shakes his head. and repeats, "no. i won't be. i really need you to live at this point, baby. i know you will be thinking how i'm love-bombing you right now, but trust me— i cannot survive without you. i need—"

"— me. yeah, i get it," you interrupt him. as rudely as always, but gojo doesn't find himself offended. too lost in the breathless chuckles tied into your tone. you lean back away from him, an amused glint in your eyes, in your tenor as you hum, "i don't know if this was you flattering me enough to make me cave into your demands... but it's okay. yeah. fine— i'll let you eat me. devour me. or whatever poetic shit you're on about— just don't forget to slice my carotids before you do that, yes?— don't really wanna go through the pain or the mess of being eaten while alive, you see."

[agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him.

gojo knows this. tough to believe, but he does. he really, really does—

but who the hell cares.

definitely not him, as he scribbles both of your initials on his mission reports later in the day. a big plus sign linking the two pairs of letters, an even bigger heart encompassing them—

pen stilling over the paper, gojo pauses. and grins.

sure. agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him— the former's far more intimate. entails much firmer trust, much greater love—

after marriage, will he take your surname, or will you take his?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[stupidphototricks]

Sir Terry Pratchett looking at something from an unexpected angle, as per usual.

Suppose you'd watched the slow accretion of snow over thousands of years as it was compressed and pushed over the deep rock until the glacier calved its icebergs into the sea, and you watched an iceberg drift out through the chilly waters, and you got to know its cargo of happy polar bears and seals as they looked forward to a brave new life in the other hemisphere where they say the ice floes are lined with crunchy penguins, and then wham—tragedy loomed in the shape of thousands of tons of unaccountably floating iron and an exciting soundtrack...... you'd want to know the whole story.

— Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

[frut1ger-aero]

medieval inspired purecacao au

had a brainwave while listening to cocteau twins and golden brown (someone ban me from writing aus)

In synchrony with the natural orchestra of the woods, were the pants of a man upon his steed, cantering through the undergrowth. He longed to strip off his steel and chainmail armour and bask in the dappled sunlight, but on the orders of the Vanillian King, he was to remain in the attire of a man his status—a knight. A higher ranking knight, as displayed by his sleek black horse, but a knight nevertheless, who had to bend to the orders of the king.

As of now, he was barely a few yards from his station, so he gently reined his horse in and they slowed to a trot. His sheathed sword clunked uncomfortably, and the urge to discard it amongst the leaves was profound. However, he stayed loyal to his orders and continued on through the woods, where spring was primitive and native creatures bounded out of the way. Insects clicked and clacked, and with the ever-present hum of bees, the area seemed to be pulsing with nature.

Though he preferred the harsh bitter of winter, with its swirling snowstorms and biting winds, watching summer unfold was undeniably beautiful.

He was beginning to sweat, however, and the distressed whinnies of the animal beneath him told him that she too, was suffering.

They had both hailed from lands where the cold was consistent, never divided into seasons like the Vanilla Kingdom was. The Dark Cacao Kingdom endured blizzards and high amounts of snow regularly. In fact, if it was warm, that would become an issue discussed at the Citadel.

It was foolish, but he found himself missing his home. He rarely gave himself time to pine, yet he could not stop himself from reminiscing. Four years ago, due to a political disagreement, he and four other of the best Cacaoian warriors were sent over to the Vanilla Kingdom to compensate for whatever the Vanilla King was angry about. A lowly knight like him would never be versed in political affairs, only a pawn to be traded.

He had seen and endured many gruelling summers, and revelled in winters that almost felt like home, but nothing could ever top the feeling of satisfaction that returning home would bring.

“Dark Cacao!” an anonymous voice rang out. He nearly jumped off his horse when he heard it.

Who had followed him into the woods? A messenger, probably. As was the custom, he bowed his head and waited for the person to catch up to him.

“Dark Cacao, it’s me,” the voice called, even louder this time.

Yielding, Dark Cacao turned around, and through the slits of his helmet, saw who was approaching him.

Instantly, he felt calmer as he watched the Vanilla prince, Pure Vanilla hurry over to him, casting wary glances around.

“What are you doing here? Where is your attendant?”

It was No secret that the prince was visually impaired, and due to this, he always had an assistant by his side. For some reason, he always found a way to escape them and tail Dark Cacao.

“I wanted to see you,” Pure Vanilla said, like it was perfectly acceptable to evade the person who was employed to assist his every move. “I overheard Crunchy Chip at the gate discussing where you were put to guard.”

“You have to get back,” he replied, looking around in a paranoid manner. It was only them in the woods, but he shuddered at the thought of the consequences if they were caught.

“I don’t want to. I missed you. Can’t you take your armour off for once?” Pure Vanilla muttered, in the petulant manner only a pampered prince could master.

“Absolutely not,” he refused.

“Why,” Pure Vanilla whined.

“Just because you’re a prince, that doesn’t mean you always get what you want. How am I supposed to explain you being here?” From atop his horse, Dark Cacao could see the way Pure Vanilla shifted at that.

“I’ll tell them the truth—that I ran off.”

“You’ll get into trouble and your father will monitor you even more closely.”

“I don’t care. Will you take your armour off now?” Pure Vanilla pleaded.

In truth, Dark Cacao deeply wanted to. It had been so long since he had embraced his lover without the weight of his armour. But he still held fear of the authorities.

“I promise you can put it back on when I’m done.”

“That sounds lewd.”

Pure Vanilla snorted in a very unprince-like manner. “It does, but you know you want to.”

He was right, actually. Somehow, an aristocrat like him managed to see past the layers of metal and muteness and understood the being that lay beneath awfully well. Pure Vanilla knew of his most raw, vulnerable feelings, and never once treated him as less or mocked him, though technically he was. So, to satiate Pure Vanilla and take advantage of moment of solitude they had, Dark Cacao swung himself off his mount, where he was still taller than Pure Vanilla.

“Fine,” he conceded.

The armour was silent as it hit the woodland floor, and he stripped, piece by piece until he could actually feel a soft breeze washing between the folds of his thin clothing.

“Finally,” cried Pure Vanilla, bouncing on the balls of his feet and landing a kiss to Dark Cacao’s lips.

As he was pulling away, Dark Cacao caught his face in his hands and pressed their lips together in a longer, more urgent kiss. He slipped his arm around Pure Vanilla’s waist, pulling him closer.

“I bet you’re grateful I ran off,” Pure Vanilla murmured into his lips, pushing Dark Cacao’s hair back and sliding a hand onto his cheek.

He pulled back, stroking the area beneath his bi-coloured eyes.

“I’m always happy to see your demanding little face.”

Pure Vanilla hummed, searching Dark Cacao’s face. He lifted a hand, and gently prodded a cut on his jaw.

“Is that new?”

“Probably. It’ll heal.”

“Well of course it will—��

“It might get infected.”

Pure Vanilla fought the urge to smile. “I know, but how do you even get one,” he wondered aloud, pursing his lips in concern.

Dark Cacao uttered something unintelligible in return, and continued to thumb the space underneath his eyes. He was focused, and though it seemed as though he was focused on Pure Vanilla, yet he didn’t register his words.

“Dark Cacao?”

His heavily-lashed eyes fluttered a little, and he sighed, leaning his forehead against Pure Vanilla’s. “I’m sorry my love. Your eyes are simply captivating.”

“Even though they can barely see,” he said bitterly. His voice took on a softer tone. “At least I can see you.”

“Half the time I’m wearing my armour,” Dark Cacao said.

“I can still distinguish you. Something about your demeanour and the way you hold yourself, the way you walk, makes you so much more distinctive. Everyone else fades away into a blur of colours. You really are the only one I have eyes for.”

It was times like these, when Dark Cacao wanted to unravel completely before him.

“I live for you only; I serve you only,” Dark Cacao whispered.

Pure Vanilla ran yet another hand through Dark Cacao’s hair, and pressed down on his broad shoulders, guiding him down towards the floor. He kissed his bare neck, his collarbone, his jaw, littering Dark Cacao with kisses as he gently pushed him to lie on the floor, and moved to lie atop him, sliding his hands beneath Dark Cacao’s head, lifting it to kiss him even more. He responded by wrapping his arms around Pure Vanilla’s back.

“I hate my stupid royale clothing,” he breathed, reaching around to loosen his sash and dispose of it somewhere in the foliage.

“Is there any kind of clothing you actually like,” Dark Cacao teased.

“Probably not. But armour hardly counts as clothing,” Pure Vanilla said, before he dove back into the kiss. This time, Dark Cacao felt his smile when their lips reconnected.

Pure Vanilla was warm, but it was a warmth he tolerated. No, more than tolerated. A warmth he craved, one he would forsake the cold of his homeland for. Strangely, he found it much more comforting than the conditions he normally loved, when it came from Pure Vanilla.

The prince sat back, disentangling himself from his lover, who also sat up, crossing his legs, Pure Vanilla leaned against his shoulder, resting his hand on Dark Cacao’s knee.

Behind them, Dark Cacao’s horse whinnied, flicking her tail.

That was a painful reminder to Dark Cacao: kissing the prince’s sun-soaked lips would not make his duties go away.

As if he could read his mind, Pure Vanilla spoke softly: “I wish I wasn’t a prince, and I wish you weren’t a knight.”

Often, Pure Vanilla would begin to talk of his inner wishes, fanciful dreams of a life they could lead where expectations wore neither of them down, and they could love as freely and as openly as they desired.

Dark Cacao understood those feelings. As a matter of fact, he shared in them a great deal, the desperate wishing that things were different. But he also knew, once he began to dwell on them, they would begin to grow, larger and larger until they consumed him and he would feel nothing else. So he less than encouraged it when Pure Vanilla got like this.

“Pure Vanilla,” Dark Cacao said gently.

“I know. Believe me, I know. But I can’t help wanting a quiet life with you.”

“This is all we have, you know that.”

“But I love you,” he burst out. “I love you so much and I hate that we’re so far apart all the time. I want to sit in sunlit fields with you for as long as I want, kiss you and hold you without a care in the world. Why is it that I have to bend to these ridiculous norms?”

Pure Vanilla turned to Dark Cacao, looking on the verge of tears. His eyes were glossy and he drove his teeth into his bottom lip with all the strength he could muster.

“I can’t even dream in peace. You’re everything to me, yet I can’t even have you, not fully,” he said, his voice cracking and his bottom lip trembling.

“I am always yours, my prince. All of me,” Dark Cacao said quietly. And he lifted Pure Vanilla’s hand from his knee, and kissed it.

A sob escaped him.

Dark Cacao lifted him, setting him down into his lap, whereupon he lay down, curling up and began to weep freely.

Twirling golden hair between his fingers, Dark Cacao stroked Pure Vanilla’s back. If his face was in view, he would have wiped the tears away.

“I wish it were different.”

As he looked down at the sobbing prince, Dark Cacao felt an ache begin to dull his senses, a fog born of love and desire and sorrow descending over him.

Distantly, calls and cries sounded. They were far, but seemed to be getting closer. Dark Cacao came to the realisation that they must be searching for the prince, and were on their way to the post—one he hadn’t even reached—where Dark Cacao should have been stationed, presumably to ask him if he had seen the prince.

“Pure Vanilla,” Dark Cacao urged. He shook his leg gently until Pure Vanilla lifted his head.

“I know it is ironic, but people are coming.”

He sniffed, wiping a hand over his eyes. “It’s not your fault. I’ll tell them you were taking me back, if you let me get on your horse.”

Dark Cacao wasted No time and immediately started pulling his armour back on, not fumbling once in his haste. He was accustomed to this, scrambling in and out of armour, going from a loving, affectionate man to a stoic, silent knight.

Right before he pulled his helmet on, Pure Vanilla stood on his tiptoes and clumsily planted a kiss on Dark Cacao’s lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied. He meant it.

Then, he donned the last part of his armour, and his walls were back up. He mounted his horse, holding out a hand to help Pure Vanilla’s swing up and sit in front of him.

Having had its reins snapped, the horse sped into a gallop, carrying them through the forest.

Pure Vanilla leaned against Dark Cacao’s firm, armoured frame. To him, he was still the beautiful man he had kissed not even two minutes before.

He held onto that thought. The thought that, though he was forced to hide behind welded steel and metal all the time, Pure Vanilla knew what lay within.

And oh, how he cherished it.

[floweringlino]

Macarons and kisses | L.F

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 ; in which wherever she goes, he goes and the other way around.

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; pastry chef!Felix x Pastrychef!fem!reader

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 ; fluff, tinie tiny bit angst, mentions of food, bullying by boss, crying, mention of alcohol, slightly suggestive near the end.

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ; 2.3k

The gods menu masterlist

✎ ❀

“Y/N, how is the mise en place for tonight looking?” Her friend questioned her.

“Don’t you worry about me, Lix. Worry about that Gumbo thats burning on the stove.

He hurried away to continue his family meal for the rest of their colleagues, Stirring the stew.

Three years of culinary school, two years of training with the best pastry chefs that were around the world. Paris, Copenhagen and Brussels were the places she had trained and all of them took a lot from her. It was hard but it made her who she was and it got her to where she was today.

She knew what she was doing, maybe she was rhetorical best around. The only person that could challenge her in her ability's was Felix. The two of them had gone through a lot in the past, from starting school together to the job they were today. Y/n had followed Felix to the two star michelin restaurant they worked at the present day.

She liked her colleagues. Felix and her had made the pastry their own and powered through the short and difficult days. Hyunjin had also become a good friend of hers and that made her rough days there better.

There was only reason why the days were so bad to start with. Her only problem with this team was the chef. Never in her short but eventful carrier, she had even met a man like him. A man so pathetic, so mean and so heartless. He made her days horrible until the point she cried her way home. But that was the job she thought.

Not every experience is supposed to be a good one.

"Corner." She told her colleagues before making her way across the corner. She said a couple of behinds while passing her friends and made her way to the kitchenaid that was whisking the eggwhites.

Very slowly she poured the sugar water while the whisk was doing its thing. As the mixture started taking the texture that she needed a confident smile appeared on het lips.

"Y/L/N, you better not mess up those macarons, I might actually kill you."

And with that the smile fell again.

"Little does he know you never mess up your macarons." Felix bumped her shoulder a little bit to make her smile again.

"I don't do mess ups. Especially not here.”

"Everybody makes mistakes babes." He reminded her.

"Calm down Hannah Montana. I wanna live out this job before he kills me." She looked up at her best friend while still doing her work. So familiar with the recipe she didn't even need to look.

Felix was also already looking at her. It made her giggle so he felt like he accomplished his mission. The look he gave her was one of pure admiration. They both did the same thing but she did it with so much passion.

"Stop looking at me." She blushed and looked away, hoping he hadn't seen it. But someone had.

"Im sorry. Ill stop. Finish those and help me with family meal?" She nodded in response and watched him walk away to the stove where he had a stew cooking for dinner.

After a little while she left her macarons to rest for a little bit as the shiny layer needed to turn matte before pushing them into the oven. Leaving them alone she made her way over to her Friend.

"What can I help you with, Lix?" He turned around from his conversation with Hyunjin and stood next to her over the stew.

"Can you cut the okra, chorizo and the green onion? I want to add it last so that it stays crunchy at the end." She nodded in response and made a station next to Hyunjin. As she did the stuff Felix had asked her to do, Hyunjin poked her in her side to get her attention from her. To keep him annoyed a little bit she waiting with responding until he yelled.

"Yah! I wanna talk to you. Talk to meee! Im bored."

"Whats up Jinnie. How are we feeling?"

"Keep this a secret okay?" She nodded in response as a promise to keep his secret.

"Im kind of thinking of quitting." She was shocked, thinking she was the only one with a problem with Chef.

"And why would you? I respect your decision, obviously. Honestly same. But im confused. I thought you liked it here?"

"I do like it here. But something doesn't feel right. I don't know how to explain it to you."

✎ ❀

It was 12.00 at night when y/n was called into chefs office. Dinner service had just ended and the kitchen staff was done cleaning. Making their was over to the dressing rooms he picked her from the crowd. And the guys could follow the entire conversation through the walls.

"Y/n I called you here because there are some things in your behaviour that are just unacceptable and you need to change some things."

"Im sorry sir, what exactly are you talking about?"

Im talking about the fact that you are here to work. Not flirt with your colleagues." He said it with such a stern look on his fave that she had no idea if he was kidding or not.

"Im sorry?"

"Y/n, im gonna get straight to the point. So far you have disappointed me in your abilities and have shown me nothing that you can be proud of. We, the guys and me feel like you spend more time flirting with Felix than actually doing your job, and today I also saw you with Hyunjin. Leave the boys alone or im going to have to fire you."

"Sir im gonna tell you something and you might not like it, but this company that you try to run? It sucks. You're not gonna have to fire me because I quit affective immediately. You can keep my last paycheque and shove it up a place where the sun doesn't shine. I hope you lose your staff and those stupid stars you worked so hard for."

"Leave my office now."

"Already leaving. And if I were you, I'd start working on the rat problem you have. It would be a shame if someone saw one and made an anonymous complaint with the health department."

She slammed the door closed behind her, rushed her way past her colleagues with her hand in the air as in a motion for them to not touch her and when Felix tried to grab her hand she shook it away. Not wanting anything to do with him at this moment.

It took all of them a moment to realise what just actually happened and as soon as it was processed, Felix stepped into the office, Hyunjin following him closely.

Not a single tear was waisted on that pathetic excuse of a leader on her drive home. She couldn't help but laugh a little bit mixed with the anger she had let out. It had been building up for a while and now that it was all let out she felt sooo much better.

She didn't even worry about her job, she could easily get another one. Another thought crossed her minds but quickly pushed it away.

Sitting down on her couch she let herself sink in and enjoy the weight that had dropped off her shoulders.

Walking to her kitchen she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. After that she changed into her pyjamas and sat back down on the comfortabel couch, not planning to get up again.

What would she do. There were about twelve job offers she could consider but was that really what she wanted. Was this where she wanted to take her talent. Her mind wondered to a new place, her place. She had an investor that would be interested in her doing this so realistically it would work. But what that something she was ready for.

A knock on her door interrupted her thought. She groaned out of frustration not wanting to get off of the couch. She waited 10 seconds before opening her front door.

Standing in front of her in all of his glory was Felix. His now long blond hair was a bit wet from the light rain outside. He only smiled at her, opening his arms for a hug which she gladly accepted.

She found comfort in his arms and it eased her mind. His hand held she back of her neck closer to him and they just stood there for a minute before letting go and coming back inside. Without talking they sat down on the couch. She sat between his legs and halfway layed on his chest.

"What happened after I left?" She questioned, taking his hand in hers and playing with his fingers.

A chuckle left his mouth.

"We quit, Hyunjin and I. We talked about it before but this was the last push we needed."

"Lix! Why did you quit? You kinda need a job." She couldn't help but laugh a little bit at what he said.

"And you should know better. Where you go. I go. I moved to Denmark with you remember?. We'll have to tell our next job that we're a package deal." He winked at her when she looked up at and stared at his eyes.

"Lix, what if we didn't search for a new job?" She questioned him, sitting back up and turning to face him a little bit more. His face read confusion.

"What do you mean, love?"

"What if, we finally called back those investors and opened our own place?" Her eyes held hope. Hoping he would say yes. They had talked about it before, but now it was serious. She ment it this time.

She tried to read his face but there were so many emotions to notice. God, she hoped he would say yes. She didn't really know what else to do. Finally when his mouth turned into a smile he responded.

"Let's do this." He grinned at her and she threw her arms tightly around his neck.

"You sure?" She needed to ask him, maybe he felt like he was pressured.

"I thought about it, and I think we can do this. It may even be the next step for us." He gleamed at the idea now. It would be their place instead of only hers, where he would work. Both of them would be owners.

"Let's look at our old Pinterest boards!" She exclaimed excitedly, dragging her laptop to her lap, laying back against Felix his chest. He pushed her back for a second to stand up. He missed her warmth immediately but if she was gonna drink wine, so was he. Grabbing himself a glass and taking the rest of the full bottle with him he sat back on the back and let her rest against him again.

This time she pulled a blanket across their laps and comfortably sat on the couch, just talking through their ideas.

Pastry's, cookies, pie's, cakes, chocolates

Felix would do the chocolates because Y/N hated temping the mass. Absolutely hated it. She made Felix do it on her final assignment and she finished it with an 8. But it was fine cuz he made her make his Sabayon.

It now was 4 in the morning and Y/N was talking through the paint options, Felix was too distracted to listen to her talking. His eyes watched her lips move and he did hear her voice. But all he could think about was how beautiful she looked. So passionate she glowed with love.

He wanted to kiss her but her back was still resting on his chest. And the fact she was just his best friend. They had finished the wine long ago and he definitely wasn't drunk. He knew what he wanted, had wanted since they first met.

His point finger traced her jawline and cheek and she pressed into his touch, wanting more. His stare at her was intense as he traced his finger across her bottom lip. Against his chest he felt her heart skip a beat. Scared he had gone to far he pulled his hand away but was stopped when it was dragged back.

Fuck it he was gonna do this. His hand pulled her chin in his direction, turning her face his way. When their eyes looked it was pure love they both say, and without thinking he grabbed the back of her neck and her jaw and pressed his lips to her.

She didn't even need to think and eased into the loving kiss. She had wanted this for so long but was scared of what it would do to their friendship.

The kiss was intense but long awaited. In the kiss she turned around so she could sit in his lap the other way around now wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him even closer.

His hands slid to her back, underneath her pyjame. A soft moan from her, made him insert his tongue into her mouth, making the  kiss even deeper than it already was.

"God you're so beautiful." He whispered against her lips and he felt her smile against his.

"I can do this all day." He said again continuing the make-out in the couch. She fully sat on his lap, softly grinding against him, making him groan from the friction of the jeans against him.

"Then do me all day." She grinned and with that he lifted her from the couch, guiding hee to her own bedroom, where the night didn't end till the sun began to rise again

[anim-ttrpgs]

as someone too poor to buy rpg rule booklets, I was looking into your game since it appears to be free to play. Was that correct, or did I misread it. (I think its pay what you want)

I was wondering if there was a good place to learn the basic rules. Like a youtube channel that might explain the difference between stats, and when they are applicable. I have never played a tabletop rpg, so the entire concept feels a little overwhelming.

I was also wondering how easy can the game be made. My only potential gaming group at the moment is one that finds monopoly overwhelming. Which means I probably need to look into playing online, or find a way to play single-player.

I know you’ve already had these questions answered by joining our discord server but I wanted to give it a public answer anyway for the sake of anyone else in the same boat.

First of all, yes, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is free if you want it to be free. The beta is pay-what-you-want, which includes $0 if that’s all you can afford.

As for a YouTube video explaining the rules, the best we can do for that is direct you to the Tiny Table podcast. They do get a couple of rules wrong while they play(as most people do the first time they play any particular RPG), but the rules overview will give you the basics. Those basics won’t be enough to start playing from scratch, but they will at least prime you for what you’re about to read in the rulebook.

The only real way to learn to play any RPG is to just read the rulebook, and then play it, continuing to reference the rulebook as-needed while you play.

This may sound intimidating, but it’s really not. Most RPG rulebooks are not massive unreadable tomes, and the ones that look like they are, like Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, are really not as intimidating as they look. Yes, the page count says 700 pages, but only about 200 of that is super important to read before you start playing the game, and, since we use big font and have a bunch of pictures taking up space, as far as word count goes that’s really closer to about 120 pages of actual text, then about 40 more of combat rules. The rest is optional rules, homebrew guidelines, additional character options, and lists and tables and stuff. It’s easy, just go through a few pages at a time.

I actually think that Eureka, despite being a dense and crunchy game, is a very, very good starting point for first-time players of TTRPGs, because it not only tells you the rules, it tells you how you’re supposed to approach the rules, what the rules mean and what their purpose is, and it even breaks down a lot of the math for you. Most games just tell you the rules, but don’t actually tell you how to apply them. Many shorter games will tell you even less, which is why I think it’s not a good idea to start people off on one-page RPGs.

Finally, the best place on the Internet right now to get online TTRPG groups that are safe, respectful, and compatible is the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club.

There’s nominations and we vote regularly on a game for everyone to read together and then play, with groups put together based on schedule compatibility, but there’s also a section for just putting together any game at any time, and it gets a lot of use. I know you already know this because you’re in it by now, but to anyone else reading this who has the same question, here’s an invite link.

[lilacartsmadsion]

Chocobrave AU Oneshot

Reunion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well…Clotted Cream’s entrance was…certainly surprising…

It shocked everyone to the core but…Pure Vanilla felt relief…his old kingdom had survived the Dark Flour War…

They were safe…

For now they begun the feast…after all it’s been a long journey for his fellow cookies…

So…why isn’t…?

“Dark Cacao Cookie is everything alright?” Pure Vanilla asked the King of the north who turned to him. “You’ve yet to sit down.”

“I’m…waiting for someone.” Dark Cacao replied, much to Pure Vanilla’s surprise. “Waiting for someone?”

“My son.” That’s when Wizard Cookie and Strawberry Cookie put their utensils down for a moment. Pausing in shock. “He was supposed to arrive a moment ago.”

“Your son Dark Choco Cookie?! You invited him?!” Wizard asked in shock, catching the attention of everyone. Dark Cacao shook his head. “No, my…other son.”

“His younger brother.”

Now Hollyberry perked up. “Huh…didn’t hear you baked another.” Dark Cacao turned to the door. “He’s adopted.” The pink-haired Ancient nodded in understanding, makes sense now.

“Why didn’t he join you then? I never saw him in the Dark Cacao Kingdom.” Strawberry Cookie asked shyly. It was strange…he could’ve helped when battling Dark Choco Cookie. “He protects the borders with Crunchy Chip Cookie, he separated from us to check on Caramel Arrow Cookie.”

Dark Cacao had a rare expression of worry. “I hope he’s alright.” He says, Pure Vanilla held his arm in comfort…the cookie was way too tall for him, he could’ve helped barely reach his shoulder…and it would be equally as hard considering his shoulder pads. “I’m sure if he’s anything like you he’ll be fine.” Dark Cacao didn’t seem too convinced though, but acknowledged Pure Vanilla’s comfort.

Just then, one of the Cacao Watchers burst through the door. “Your Highness! The Prince has arrived!”

Dark Cacao blinked for a moment. “And…why are you out of breath?”

“Well-“ “GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

At that scream suddenly a young Cream Wolf bursted into the Main Hall, scaring everyone except for the Cacao Watchers, who tried to calm the Wolf down.

Its rider, who was probably the so-called ‘Prince’ was struggling to get a hold of its excitement. “Woah! Woah! Easy there boy! Easy!” His face was covered by his cloak…? Scarf…? Uhm let’s go with cloak. Seemingly by accident considering the way the Wolf was moving wildly.

Dark Cacao sighed, not out of disappointment, he was seemingly amused and slightly relieved. He approached looked to Crunchy Chip Cookie who offered the King a treat to calm the Wolf down, then he approached.

Carefully he calmed the Cream Wolf down. “Sit.” He commanded. The Cream Wolf sat, gaining a relieved yelp from the Prince. “You need to work on your Cream Wolf training.” He responded, giving the Cream Wolf his treat.

The Prince pouted. “Oh, how could I not spoil him?” He says petting the Cream Wolf and scratching his ear.

To Wizard Cookie and Strawberry…The Prince’s voice sounds…familiar…almost…

“Care to introduce us Dark Cacao Cookie?” Hollyberry spoke after a hearty laugh, seeing Dark Cacao being soft in public is rare…well children tend to bring the best in him and Hollyberry after all…Dark Cacao stood up as the Prince slid down the Cream Wolf. He cleared his throat.

“Everyone, this is my son.” At that moment the Prince removed the cloak over his head.

“Gingerbrave.”

Wizard and Strawberry stood eyes widened in shock and body still.

Did they…hear that right?

As The Prince removed his cloak he revealed the face underneath…

His hair was different sure but that was definitely…

“Gingerbrave?” Everyone paused at the knowing tone from Strawberry Cookie, who stood up, as if in disbelief. “Are you okay Strawberry Cookie?” Pure Vanilla asked, looking at her worriedly.

“Wizard Cookie? Strawberry Cookie?”

Eyes turned towards the young Prince, who somehow knew the names of the Cookies in front of him, standing still in complete shock as well, his eyes were almost dilated but they seemed to hold…

Relief?

“You…know these cookies?” Dark Cacao asked, turning to Gingerbrave. He was silent for a moment, then smiled.

“Of course I do! They’re my friends!”

At that moment they knew…

Strawberry practically wailed into tears, bolting towards Gingerbrave and tackling him almost causing him to fall. Gingerbrave hugged back, pulling her into a spinning hug.

“You’re alive! Thank the stars you’re alive!” She cried, holding unto Gingerbrave tight and constantly crying in his arms. She eventually let go, to step aside for Wizard. “You probably have a lot to say-“

Gingerbrave was interrupted as Wizard slapped him, shocking everyone in the room. Gingerbrave only smiled and chuckled. “Guess I deserved that.”

“You little-!” Wizard said, also in tears. “You idiot! Don’t you dare let us worry again you stupid-!” He could barely speak, lightly hitting Gingerbrave’s arm and chest until pulling him into a hug. “Don’t EVER disappear like that again!” Wizard hid his cries on Gingerbrave’s armor, to which the Cookie sighed.

“Yeah I get it.” He replied, hugging them both. “Sorry about that guys…”

He was holding back his own cries, but they could feel it…the way he trembled as he held them, the way he hid his voice as he too was on the verge of bawling his eyes out.

Tears spilt from his eyes but he remained strong. Letting out soft laughs of relief.

They were alive, they were okay…they were home…

They were safe…

They’re not in the Oven anymore…

Sunlight practically shone against them as they hugged for hours, warmth spreading them into a new era of healing, reunification and peace…

They were going to be okay…

Pure Vanilla and Hollyberry smiled at the scene. “Darn…they make our reunion look plain.” Hollyberry joked, Pure Vanilla chuckled. “Who would’ve thought? Guess fate really has brought us in full circle.” He looked to Dark Cacao Cookie who didn’t smile…course that was usual.

But the look he gave the group made it seem like he was about to. The way he stared at Gingerbrave with Pride and almost longing…

He was happy for him…who wouldn’t be?

After a while the group parted. “We…have a lot to catch up on.” Gingerbrave joked causing a laugh from Strawberry Cookie. “How the hell can you still joke after THAT?” Wizard said half-heartedly as Gingerbrave laughed in response. “Just trying to make you smile…have you found a few spells while I was gone?”

“Oh tons, you missed a lot.” Wizard said sarcastically. “Course I did! I wouldn’t give up just for that!”

“Still the same as usual then.” Gingerbrave replied with a bright smile…

The group barely left his side, chatting amongst themselves as they made up for lost time…

[wileys-russo]

looks can be deceiving II a.russo x reader

you all asked, here's the answer. secretly soft biker gf (au) lessi looks can be decieving II a.russo x reader

"so where's your guard dog today then?" you playfully shoved your best friend with a roll of your eyes at the question as the two of you walked across campus toward the parking lot.

"at work i think, she was gone by the time i woke up." you shrugged, not having spoken very much to your girlfriend given she was far from the worlds best texter and you'd been in exams all day.

"and you're fine with just assuming that? you don't feel the need to like check in?" your best friend asked in disbelief. "well yeah? she told me she was working today, i believe her. it's called trust, maybe you've heard of it!" you teased, smacking her arm.

"i guess she doesn't really have any friends she could be hanging round with anyway." you pinched her for the comment as the girl whined and pushed you away. "don't be rude!" you warned seriously, not accepting anyone speaking badly of your girlfriend, even your best friend.

"i still can't believe you're with her." the girl beside you shook her head as you sent her a look. "and what's that supposed to mean?" you challenged, stopping in front of her with your arms crossed. "she's so...rough?" your best friend analysed with a grimace, unable to really find the words to describe the girl you were so head over heels for.

"you're judging her without knowing her, again." you sighed, the two of you resuming your walking, having just finished your final exam for the day. "because you won't let me meet her properly! you've been seeing her for like four months and i think i've heard her say about ten words?" your best friend chastised.

"she's just independent. and every time i invite you to hang out with us you get all weird about it and make her uncomfortable!" you warned, having admittedly been trying to get the two women to spend some time together with you but so far you'd had no success at all.

"i make her uncomfortable?? she makes me uncomfortable she looks at me like she wants to stab me!" your best friend huffed. "no she doesn't, she's really sweet. plus she treats me well and makes me very happy, isn't that enough for you as my best and most loyal friend?" you gave the girl beside you puppy dog eyes who groaned and pushed your head away.

"didn't she eat the head off a bat once for a dare?" the brunette beside you asked with a grimace, you scoffed at the question. though before you could answer a new voice rang out behind you.

"yeah, was a bit crunchy though. you want me to get you one to try?" you spun around at the familiar accent, your whole face lighting up at the sight of your girlfriend. "lessi!" you beamed, jumping on her as the taller girl easily caught you in her arms.

"alessia." your best friend deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest as the soft smile which made its way to your girlfriends lips at the sight of you quickly melted away and she placed you back down on your feet.

"layla." the girl replied in the same curt tone, wrapping her arms around you possessively from behind. "well this has been rivoting. get home safe with your personal grease monkey babe, call me later." your best friend smiled at you as alessia sent her a glare over the top of your head.

"i thought you had work baby?" you turned around in her hold, wrapping your arms around her neck and leaning up on your tippy toes to peck her lips. "mm i left early, perks of being the bosses daughter." alessia grinned, pecking your lips back a few times before attacking your face with kisses making you laugh.

"why? i thought you were doing that vintage chief you can't seem to stop talking about." you asked curiously, your girlfriend beaming with pride that you remembered.

"gio was getting on my last fucking nerve with it today. i had to start over twice because he kept sticking his fingers in thinking he knows better than i do, and then something falls off or apart and i'm back to square one." your girlfriend puffed air out of her nose with an annoyed grunt.

"m'sorry baby. but your dad knows you're the best though, why do you think he trusts you with all of the older engines that are more fragile? nobody can love them, care for them and bring them back to life like you can lessi baby." you reminded her softly, smiling as she pressed her face into your shoulder, likely to hide the blush you knew would be creeping down her neck at the praise.

"i hope you didn't bring your bike though. i am not getting on that death trap i already told you." you warned making the older girl roll her eyes and mock you under her breath.

"you're getting on it one day even if i have to tie you to the damn seat. but no, i have the car." alessia sighed dramatically, pulling away to take your hand as the two of you continued across the parking lot.

"god you look good in your uniform." you commented with a grin, eyes shamelessly roaming the grease stained coveralls clinging to her body, the girl working most days in her dads auto body garage working on what was her second love next to you, her beloved vintage motorcyles.

"little perv." alessia rolled her eyes and shoved your head playfully but your grin widened seeing the slight blush which coated her cheeks, as they did anytime you gave her even the slightest hint of a compliment. "after you." she was quick to open the passenger door for you, stealing a kiss as you slid in.

"such a gentlewoman." "only the very best for you baby girl."

~

"those are for you." your girlfriend nodded to a bunch of flowers sitting on her desk as she let the two of you into her apartment, closing the door and sitting down to take off her boots. "oh lessi." you melted, lips curling into an adoring smile.

"they're beautiful." you sent her a grateful look over your shoulder, moving to find something to put them in given you planned to spend the weekend here, and probably most of next week.

you had your own place, a sharehouse with two roommates, but if you were honest you stayed nights here much more than there, and that was just as alessia wanted it anyway.

her apartment was quintessentially just so her. the dark toned wood furniture, the worn in brown leather sofa draped in throw cushions and blankets that you knew she only bought once the two of you started dating to make it seem a little more 'homey'.

the olive green accents in her minimal decor choices which popped against the numerous amounts of house plants scattered around, the girl shockingly had a fantastic green thumb. then there was the countless amounts of books lining her walls, almost all classics like emily dickinson, bronte and sylvia plath.

then of course there was her baby.

the restored 1941 harley davidson which sat right in the middle of the apartment in place of a dining table, an odd sight to most but it was just so incredibly alessia for her to have it there you'd never minded.

her apartment was her safe space and her haven, littered with trinkets and engine parts and tools, but then there was the typewriter on her desk which sat right by the enormous floor to wall window which let in the most glorious sunlight in the early mornings and late evenings, the vintage cameras and the polaroids of you stuck to her fridge.

it was hers, and you felt privileged that she let you in to become a part of it.

"you're beautiful." suddenly you were turned around as you rummaged through her cupboards trying to find something to use as a makeshift vase, your body pinned to the counter as the taller girl loomed over you with a soft smile.

your hands reached up to tug her hair out which was half up in a bun, a dirty mix of black, brunette and blonde waves falling to frame her face as you tangled your fingers in the soft locks.

"you've done so well with your exams gorgeous. i'm really really proud of you, my smart intelligent wonderful girl." alessia praised with a soft smile, tenderly pulling you into a kiss as her mouth slotted perfectly with yours, her hands gently caressing your sides.

your head swam at the feeling of her kissing you. sometimes she could be rough and posessive and needy with the way she attacked your lips, but most times, like right now, she was soft and slow and tender, taking her time with you to show you how much each kiss really meant to her.

this was the alessia you fell head over heels for. the soft spoken, severely misunderstood sweetheart who wrote you poems and bought you flowers just because, who laid with her legs tangled with yours in the sunshine pouring in from her windows and read to you for hours with a voice like honey.

the girl who touched you so carefully and so lovingly as if you were made of glass and might break if she wasn't gentle enough. who taught you how to make homemade pasta and loved nothing more than to lay down with her head in your lap while you played with her hair, allowing her to let down the walls that she had built up and fortified around anyone else that wasn't you.

not the big tough tattooed biker girl with a smart mouth and a bad attitude who dropped out of school to fix engines, ride her harley and flit from party to party, never caught without a cigarette behind her ear, cocky smirk and a leather jacket on her shoulders.

granted though she was the biggest teddy bear most of the time, she did have her moments where she might live up a little more to her reputation.

if she'd had a bad day at work, maybe argued with one of her brothers over a part that was supposed to be ordered which never came which pushed back the whole job and she'd gotten the blame, then she had no issues treating you a little rougher, using you as a stress reliever in the most sinful ways for hours on end.

but then right after the walls would come crashing down again and she was back to kissing you like you could crumble at a moments notice, crawling into your arms seeking comfort and constant praise about how good she did, how much you loved her, how much you needed her and appreciated her.

"i'm gonna go take a shower." the girl hummed against your lips, pulling away and softly kissing your forehead, pushing her body off of yours. "yeah good, you smell." you teased, kicking her bum as she turned around, pulling yourself up onto the counter.

"you're lucky you're cute." alessia warned, smile tugging at her lips. "get your study in for awhile baby, i'm gonna wash my hair. and when i get back i get your full attention." the taller girl frowned with a slight pout which made you melt.

"someone's needy." you pouted back mockingly as she returned between your legs. "yeah and so what? i've missed you, been on my mind all day pretty girl." alessia confessed pressing her forehead against yours, pout deepening. "you're adorable." you grinned and booped her nose which scrunched up at the simple touch.

"tell anyone and i'll have to kill you." alessia warned, forming a gun with her fingers and pressing it to the side of your head, making a shooting noise with her mouth as she pulled the trigger, her forehead still pressed to yours.

the playful side she let out around you made you swoon, she wasn't like this even around her family and it brought you a sense of pride that you created a space where she was comfortable to be whoever she wanted.

"go study, book worm." with that she pulled away, blowing out and holstering her finger gun with a wink and retreating away.

"i'll say it again, god you look good in those dirty coveralls." you wolf whistled after her, throwing your head back with a laugh as she shook her bum at you with another wink before kicking her bathroom door closed with her foot.

~

"baaaby!" you heard your girlfriend yell out from her bedroom, glancing up from your textbook at the sudden noise. "yeah love?" you called back, scribbling down your notes as your glasses slid down your nose a little.

"can you come dry my hair for me, please?" you heard the hopeful tone in her voice and chuckled, flipping closed your textbook and standing up from her desk, padding over to her bedroom.

"thank you, i like it better when you do it." alessia admitted, stood in front of you with damp hair hanging down her back, her taller form clad only in a huge harley davidson shirt which hung down to her knees, heavily tattooed limbs on full display.

you perched yourself on the end of her bed as alessia settled down on the floor between your legs, arms resting on your knees as she handed you a brush, her hair dryer already plugged in and waiting beside her.

"have you got anymore booked in?" you asked, gently tracing the small butterfly behind her ear, the most recent in her ever growing collection of body art. "mm not yet, might finish off my moth first." she tapped to the half completed insect on her left knee.

"i wish you'd never bought that stupid gun." you mumbled disapprovingly as you brushed out the knots and tangles in her damp hair. "hey i'm getting really good now! you even said so the other day." her head craned back to look up at you, puckering her lips expectantly as you bent down to kiss her.

"that was before i looked up how common blood infections are with home done tattoos." you tutted as she faced forward again and you resumed your brushing. "i told you to stop googling anything that pops up in your mind babe, you're already a hypochondriac." the older girl chuckled, whining softly as you yanked on her hair for the comment.

"so no chance you'll let me give you one? so much clean skin to work with." alessia sighed longingly, tattooed hands squeezing your bare legs making you roll your eyes. "you've a better chance of getting me on that death trap of a bike." you teased, tapping her shoulders and holding out your hand as she passed you the dryer.

"no! its my time." alessia huffed as you tried to return to her desk once the two of you exited her bedroom, her now dry hair hanging down her back in waves. "baby i just have one more chapter to-" she cut you off with a kiss, closing your textbook and grabbing your hips, and before you knew it you were over her shoulder.

"alessia!" you laughed, reaching down to smack her bum as her shirt rode up. "oo this is new!" you whistled, pulling her shirt up further to reveal the black thong she had on underneath.

"hey you keep those hands to yourself!" the girl retaliating by smacking your own bum with her free hand before she dropped you down on the lounge. "oh wait here." she perked up, rushing off to her bedroom.

"put this on please." she held out a different shirt toward you. "why? i already changed baby." you frowned gesturing to the clothes you'd put on while she was showering. "that's mine, this is yours." your girlfriend replied, shaking the shirt impatiently in your face.

"so?" you pushed, knowing why she wanted you to change but wanting her to say it. "you know why, put it on and don't be a brat about it." alessia huffed with a roll of her eyes. "no, say it. you big ole softy!" you teased, kicking her as alessia dropped the shirt on your head.

"because its my favourite to sleep in and it doesn't smell like you anymore. happy?" the older girl mumbled as you tugged the material off your head with a satisfied grin. "very much so." you quickly changed, your girlfriend tossing the other shirt over her shoulder without a care making you roll your eyes.

"assume the position!" she shooed at you impatiently as you grabbed the tv remote, shuffling down to the end of the sofa with a smile, your girlfriend laying down with her head in your lap, her heavily tattooed legs occupying the rest of the sofa as her feet hung off the edge, which of course were clad in a pair of fuzzy black socks.

"what do you want to watch baby?" you asked pressing a kiss to her warm forehead, clicking into her netflix as your girlfriend shrugged. "anything you want gorgeous."

you browsed for a moment, alessia sighing loudly a few times to show she was becoming annoyed at the lack of attention you were showing her. pecking her lips a few times to hold her off you clicked into the proposal and placed the remote back down on the coffee table.

your girlfriend impatiently grabbed your hands and threaded them through her freshly washed hair making you chuckle. "are you going to sleep?" you laughed as you started to scratch at her scalp, watching her bright blue eyes close almost immediately. "no i'm just resting my eyes." the girl mumbled making you shake your head and press another tender kiss to her forehead.

within five minutes her breathing evened out and you glanced down with a soft smile, her ring covered fingers intertwined and resting on her stomach which slowly rose up and down as she slept.

your big scary guard dog girlfriend, the absolute sap she really was.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: He Sat Upon a Throne of Pumpkin Pie [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: He Sat Upon a Throne of Pumpkin Pie [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: ... Mahito and a very special pumpkin pie

For Horrorfest request: Mahito and a very special pumpkin pie

Word count: 1149

Notes: Yandere, Mahito is his own warning, food related horror

The last thing you ever expected Mahito to set down in front of you was a pumpkin pie. 

And when you’d looked up at him in genuine confusion, the last thing you expected to see on his face was a look of quiet pride and contentment. No manic grin, no slinky smile. Simply a serious pleased expression that didn’t seem befitting of his usual moods around you. 

“What… is this?” You asked, as if it wasn’t evident by its appearance.

“I made you a pie,” he said simply, although perhaps not so simply, as nothing was ever simple when it came to Mahito. He turned away from you, and you heard the distinct sound of cutlery rattling before he set down a small plate, a fork, and a knife. 

The chair screeched when he pulled it back and sat down. He put his elbows on the table and simply stared at you.

“Well?” He asked, when you had evidently not moved quickly enough. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

Your hands moved slowly, feeling leaden, as you used the knife to cut a haphazard slice and lifted it onto your plate with a fork. He watched, tilting his head a little, as he was prone to do when observing you. 

On your plate, the slice of pie looked… normal. A subtle orange-brown color. Light brown crust. The filling was firm, but had a bit of moistness to it. 

Just a pie, a normal pie. 

Well, almost normal. The one peculiarity were the walnuts crushed up and interspersed throughout the slice.  You saw them in the cross section of the pie, now that you’d taken out a chunk. They looked a little burnt, but you suppose curses weren’t exactly prone to baking, and that was to be expected.

It was probably something he saw in a recipe book or on TV. He had been peeking at old recipe books lately, a stack he’d found in a box left on the side of the road. 

Mahito made a shooing gesture at you, and you broke out of your thoughts. 

“Come on, come on!” He said. His voice took on a whining tone that was at least more familiar to you than his unusual seriousness. “While it’s fresh!” 

And so, because you still had enough self-preservation to know that you should do what Mahito wanted, you scooped a bite of pie onto your fork and put it in your mouth, then chewed. 

He sighed almost instantly, a whimsical, dreamy sound, leaning his chin on his hand while he watched you eat. The way he looked at you was entirely unnerving, because he did not look in the least bit terrifying. Instead he looked at you like a man--a curse, you reminded yourself--enamored. Like you were the sweetest thing in the world. 

“I think I understand why people like to bake now,” he said, perhaps more to himself than to you. “Watching someone enjoy what you made…” He sighed again, his lips curling up in a smile. 

Although “enjoy” wasn’t quite the word you would use to describe what he’d made, even as you took a few more bites to placate him. 

The taste had the vaguest resemblance to pumpkin pie, you supposed. But it was more like someone’s idea of pumpkin pie, like it had been strained ten times over before finally being baked. 

Maybe he tried to make it from scratch and it wasn’t sweetened enough. Or maybe he’d over mixed or added too much liquid or baked it at the wrong temperature. You weren’t exactly a baker, and if you ever indulged in pumpkin pie, it was something you bought from the bakery. 

It wasn’t vile, but it wasn’t good or pleasant to eat either. A child���s first time baking in the kitchen. 

The walnuts were the strangest addition. They were burnt and their texture and taste was unusual. They weren’t crunchy, exactly, the way you expected a walnut (burnt or not) to taste. They had a slightly chewy texture, with an overlaying firmness. Like raisins encased in something, maybe. 

Maybe they were raisins… that would explain the overall unusual taste of the pie. 

“Mahito,” you said, dabbing at your mouth with the inside of your shirt since he didn’t see fit to give you napkins. “Are these walnuts or raisins? I can’t quite tell.”

Mahito blinked at you, his mismatched eyes holding an ounce of genuine confusion before they seemed to glint with an awful realization. And then his lips curved into a smile, the type of smile you hated to see, the kind that made you feel sick to your stomach.

He reached out and plucked one of the pieces from the cut pie, holding it with his thumb and forefinger. A bit of orange pie stuck to the edge of it. 

“I was able to make them smaller than usual,” he said, casually. “It took a lot of work. Especially once I started baking!” He pouted. “I had to go through a lot of kitchens before it came out looking this good… how does it taste?”

His words hit you low and slow. It took a while to put them together, like a puzzle you didn’t want to finish. 

“You were able to make… what smaller than usual?” 

And oh, didn’t a small part of you already know the answer? You weren’t naive anymore. Not after all you’ve been through with Mahito. What he’s done, what he’s made you do. 

What you’ve seen.

And now, what you’ve tasted.

Your tongue curled inside your mouth, the taste and strange, chewy texture of the--pieces--you swallowed lingering in your sense memory. 

The answer came but you knew it already.

“People!” Mahito popped the piece he held into his mouth and continued while he chewed. “I had to get a lot for this recipe. Did you know the recipe called for two whole cups of nuts? The people who make these books should be more considerate.” 

He closed his eyes and shook his head, an exaggerated mimic (but maybe it wasn’t a mimic, you thought) of annoyance. “It’s not like these ingredients grow on trees!” 

“Walnuts do grow on trees,” you said dully, thinking of the people he’d murdered and cooked and fed to you. How much did they suffer? (You did not ask yourself, ‘Did they suffer?’ Because you knew, from witnessing Mahito’s work firsthand, that they undeniably did.) Were they alive when he baked them? Were they alive–now? 

Mahito opened his eyes and widened them, unaware or uncaring of the turmoil roiling through your guts.  “Oh, really? Well, it was easier to substitute something else, anyway.” 

You shoved yourself away from the table, feeling the acrid vomit finally begin to climb up your throat.  Mahito made a soft sound of surprise--

“Don’t you want to finish your slice?” 

“No--you can have it.” You just managed to get the words out as you walked out of the kitchen, heading for the hallway and the bathroom.When you glanced back, his expression was back to that subtle pleasure. You half-wished for him to break out into a nasty grin. It was easier to stomach.

No pun intended. 

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

ARAMINTA: Welcome to the third round of Simply Lilac! And welcome to Ava Landry, first and second round contestant of Mad About Dodo.

AVA: Charmed, I’m sure.

ARAMINTA: Now during your time on the show, you were sent home due to a dice roll, invited back due to a dice roll, then won immunity due to a dice roll-

AVA: And having obtained the highest skill level of anyone in the group, don’t forget.

ARAMINTA: That was quite the spin of fortune’s wheel.

AVA: Yes. [blinks] Oh, I’m sorry - was I expected to elaborate on that? Perhaps in your present little hostessing career, my dear, it may behoove you to ask more overt questions.

ARAMINTA: I shall… take that under advisement. Now as a veteran, what do you suppose the contestants are thinking of each other at this point?

AVA: They shouldn’t.

ARAMINTA: Pardon me?

AVA: They shouldn’t think of other contestants at all, really. It’s only them and Le - and the oh-so-eligible bachelor. All the other details are merely crunchy little stepping stones on your way to wealth - to true love, of course - poppet.

ARAMINTA: And we have to respect that ‘in it to win it’ attitude, don’t we folks?

AVA: You’re not required to do anything with it. It simply exists, regardless of its impact on your precious little feelings.

ARAMINTA: Let’s move on to the scoring. This round is… complex.

AVA: All those maxed out friendship and romance bars, I suppose. And for this… Lilibet.

ARAMINTA: Lilac.

AVA: Whatever. I hardly see what all the fuss is about.

ARAMINTA: Isn’t it fortunate then, that you’re not one of the contestants?

AVA: ...

ARAMINTA: [clears throat] As you said, the maxed out relationship bars is what made scoring so challenging this round. Those who were consistently in the Top Five will therefore receive 15 bonus points each, while those who were among the first three to max out either friendship or romance with Lilac will be rewarded 15 points for first, 10 points for second, and 5 points for third.

AVA: For those who like to get their feelings entangled along with their limbs (ugh), will it be friendship or romance? Or will someone like that drolly sweet little Tartosan thing-

ARAMINTA: Delphine.

AVA: Whatever. If she is to somehow max out romance too? Because let’s face it, sweetling, the bar’s so low that it may as well be in Selvadorada these days…

ARAMINTA: Friendship and romance, if applicable. So if Delphine is the second to max out romance, she will receive 25 points total.

AVA: Truly, they’ll give anything to absolutely anyone these days…

ARAMINTA: Oh look, here’s a table!

AVA: Alright, allow me to act as though I’m someone who actually cares. Friendship and romance are still the same. Skills don’t count, because they’re all talentless little cretins as far as I’m concerned-

ARAMINTA: Because we’re not actively working on skills this round.

AVA: Precisely what I just said - thank you. Compatibility and attraction levels, still worth the same amount of points. Sentiments are the same, et cetera.

ARAMINTA: Correct.

AVA: Oh goody - there’s more. Whims, bonuses and date? I suppose that is my cue to ask you what those fascinating little tidbits are all about.

ARAMINTA: Thank you, Ava! Whims are - for the casual audience back home - those notifications on the bottom left of your Watcher’s screen which typically recycle after a night’s sleep, or appear if your sim is at a specific lot or event, such as ordering food from a stall at the Spice Festival.

AVA: So I’m thinking that if Lavender-

ARAMINTA: Lilac.

AVA: Oh potayto, potahto. Or if any of those positively intriguing little contestants gets any whims during the date, do they count towards points too?

ARAMINTA: Yes. And the bonuses are what we were referring to earlier - if the contestant maxed out either friendship or romance (or both) early on, or if they placed in the Top Five during previous rounds.

AVA: And “date” is all about whether you get a gold, silver or bronze medal?

ARAMINTA: We’re assuming that everyone will have a successful date with Lilac at this point. If the couple achieve all the date goals, minus woohoo-

AVA: You’re not allowing woohoo this round?

ARAMINTA: Woohoo is allowed, but part of having a positive attitude towards it is accepting that not everyone is there yet.

AVA: Missing out one of the few (well, not always - though I shan't name names) positive side effects of having to deal with people, but I suppose you’re right.

ARAMINTA: So if woohoo is the one remaining goal, the date will still count as “complete” and contestants will receive bonus points.

AVA: And how do we know that this so-called ‘Watcher’ will not merely rig things for whoever is the lesser irritant of all these little pixels?

ARAMINTA: Lilac has been instructed to perform three flirtatious interactions with each contestant, and achieve the “socialise” and “sit and talk with your date” goals. After that, full autonomy will take effect. Therefore everything else is down to the two of them.

AVA: Well, won’t that just be the comedy of errors. Oh, hello Not Leo-

ARAMINTA: Dodo.

AVA: Where is your brother today?

DODO: Safe - I mean, somewhere far, far away filming.

AVA: Well, if he’s ever looking for a costar to-

ARAMINTA: And that is our time for today! Tomorrow we will begin with Jerrod’s date, which takes place in a strange locale, somewhere far, far away..

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @simsfvr @bakersimmer @akitasimblr

@changingplumbob @simstagramsomeone @riverofjazzsims @mdshh

@invisiblequeen @igglemouse @panicsimss

post script:

(Yeah, I cheated Dodo the LOYAL trait because his PARANOIA appeared glitched. Next minute he wasn't taking kindly to a certain someone being spoken to rudely 😅)

dodo harper by @akitasimblr. ava landry was EA's originally, but @shmoodlet has made her all their own 😉

[kradogsrats]

Aaravos, Leola, and the Entire History of Human Magic: Revisited

So I last dumped on this topic right after s5 released, and came up with a rough series of conclusions that were largely correct, as far as interpreting what information we had been given so far. Now that s6 has dumped some new delicious and crunchy twists into the mix, let's take another look.

The Unicorn's Gift

Going into s6, we had 2.5 accounts of the gifting of primal magic to humans: the Book One: Moon novelization, Tales of Xadia, and Ripples. In Book One: Moon, and Tales of Xadia, we learn that humans received primal magic from the/a most selfless and compassionate unicorn(s), against the advice of the elves.

Unicorns were always the most selfless of the Xadian beings. There came a time when, filled with pity, they desperately wanted to help the struggling humans. After all, it was not the humans' choice to have been born without magic. But the First Elves were wary. They warned the unicorns that kindness was not always returned with kindness; it would be a mistake to trust the species. After all, if humans were supposed to use magic, they would have been born with it.

— Book One: Moon

One heart took pity on the plight of humanity. A unicorn, unique among her own rare kind, saw the strength and ingenuity of the human spirit where others saw weakness and beastly ignorance. Her name was Leola. While elves warned that if humans were meant to wield magic they would have been born with it, she gifted the wisest humans with secrets: the language of the dragons and the runes that shaped spells.

— Tales of Xadia

What's interesting is how inaccurate both of these stories have turned out to be. We also don't even actually know whose stories these are. By the time of the series events, it's no longer even remembered that humans had primal magic, aside from primal stones. It's a truth forgotten on the human side, and either similarly forgotten or deliberately suppressed in Xadia. Despite the brightest, most constant star in the sky still retaining the name "Leola's Last Wish," neither Callum nor Rayla know who Leola was.

Ripples obliquely acknowledges the vagueness and changing nature of these stories, opening with:

Like all the oldest tales, time has bent its shape and blurred its color. It is a fable whispered on some tongues and shouted on others. While one may say it ends with a sunrise, another will insist it ends at nightfall.

— Ripples

So rather than directly telling the story of humanity's acquisition of primal magic, Ripples deals with the aftermath. We learn that humanity had been, implicitly or explicitly, forbidden primal magic, and in the wake of them receiving it, a star fell.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. And so there came a calamity.

— Ripples

The story told in Ripples turns out to be the most accurate, based on what we have learned from s6. Humans acquired primal magic, and a star was cast from the sky. (A tiny star, if you want extra emotions.) It makes no mention of how humans learned primal magic, only that they did, and—unlike the other stories, where the elves caution against giving magic to humans but take no other action—the are hunted by monsters for it.

Elarion, fading bloom, afraid to wilt and dim and die, she searched the dark for but a spark and caught the dragons’ hungry eye.

— Midnight Star

Hmmmm.

The Order of the Stars

One of the main things, possibly the main thing, we learned from s6 is that we were given a glimpse of the stars as the god-like authorities that have been hinted at in a lot of Aaravos-related side content. It's not a good look. (It never was.)

It tells us succinctly why primal magic was forbidden to humans: in the timeless gaze of the stars, humans acquiring magic dooms the universe.

(Of course, it is the attempt at averting prophesied doom that actually brings it to pass, but that's just standard stuff. For all their omniscience, the stars apparently still lack genre-awareness.)

This "cosmic order" is likely what the stars have built that Aaravos seeks to destroy:

I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand.

— Ripples

And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky.

— Patience

Snitches Get Stitches, Even Dragons

The other major curve ball s6 has thrown into the story as we understood it is the involvement of the archdragons, Sol Regem in particular. According to Aaravos, the testimony of a young Sol Regem is the only evidence against Leola.

At the time, Aaravos seems to take this at face value, and argues that anything Leola may have done was out of love for humans and the world, not defiance of the cosmic order. Maybe this is because Sol Regem/Anak Arao is an archdragon of the Sun, the primal source known for the light of truth.

I, however, have to wonder if he was lying. Taking a look at Ripples, again:

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain.

— Ripples

Apparently, the first primal source humans accessed was the Sun. It could just be that Anak Arao was a rules-obsessed hall monitor and... but what if it wasn't Leola who gave humans that secret? We don't even see Leola doing any magic of the kind she's credited with giving humans—no runes, no spells of any specific primal. If someone did teach humans the runes and Draconic words for primal magic, it seems unlikely to have been her.

But as heir to some kind of position of authority, could it have been partially Anak Arao's responsibility to keep his primal source out of human hands? Was it maybe stolen out from under his nose, and he sought to shift the punishment away from himself? (And boy, would it sure be a real uno-reverse to have this story loop all the way back around to a literal theft of fire for humanity.) Or could it have been lost/given to humans by someone he wanted to protect from the same cosmic justice?

Hmmmm.

There have been hints about a larger human/dragon conflict in the past, most notably the Midnight Star poem. In a hiatus-era interview, Aaron Ehasz describes an early version of the setting as being essentially humans/unicorns vs. dragons/elves. The low-key emphasis on humans and dragons in opposition that we get from some of these materials is a) interestingly not mentioned in either of the "unicorns gave primal magic to humans" stories, and b) not actually what we see as the primary conflict in the setting, outside of Sol Regem's personal grudge.

It gets especially weird because, like... there's no reason to think all the other archdragons we're aware of (except Zym) weren't there, too. Sol Regem is cast as a bit older, but not "of an entirely different generation from the other archdragons"-older. So like, you'd think Zubeia would remember, at minimum, that primal magic was forbidden to humans by the cosmic order. Maybe, given the implied departure/loss of interest by the stars, no one cares anymore? Maybe dark magic was considered a much more serious issue, as far as perversions of the natural order are concerned. Or I guess it's possible that there was some special relationship between the stars and the line of the archdragon Sun King, and the other archdragons weren't privy to the machinations going on in the heavens.

Basically, there's been a big new mystery introduced as to the geopolitics of Xadia and the heavens in the distant past, in addition to Aaravos's personal relationships with all the archdragons.

Book and Key

So overall, I don't actually know what to make of this:

But I have a couple wild theories to put forth.

First of all, Aaravos has been referred to as "archmage of all six primal sources," and this is reflected in the pre-s6 promo art series featuring the book and key.

But, interestingly, we also see in s6 that in order to truly commune with the heavens, the Celestial elves have to remove themselves from the influence of the other primal sources, specifically the Sun and Moon.

So, as powerful as they are, I think maybe Startouch elves don't have automatic access to the other primal sources. Maybe not even the magic of the Star primal, as it exists harnessed by rune spells. The book is probably how Aaravos himself built connections to primal magic while in Xadia.

(This would mean that the reason it was at all believable for Leola to give the secrets of primal magic to humans is because Aaravos was exploring those secrets—something it could be that the stars resented?)

Anyway this could also connect up with any number of wild theories about the nature of primal magic or primal elves, though we see a Moonshadow elf among Leola's friends so it seems primal elves are already present at this point. Being me, if Aaravos and Leola's home was actually in what is now Duren, I at least personally want to believe that he was seeding the frontier with magic.

Anyway, as always: some answers, and even more questions. Catch y'all later when the post-release interviews and Q&As inevitably make everything even weirder.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 16 - Longest Day Festival

Green leaf

The Longest Day festival was supposed to be fun. That’s what Ripplepaw had been told. It was a time for games, for feasting, for running under the sun until your paws ached. And at first, it was exactly that.

The neutral clearing was transformed. HoneyClan had strung flower garlands between the trees, their scents cloying and sweet, and woven bright petals into the grass. Fat bees buzzed lazily through the air, drawn by the honey-soaked treats piled onto wide, flat stones. Cats from every clan mingled, laughing and sharing stories. Ripplepaw had even started to enjoy himself, grinning as his brother signed the stories to him dramatically.

The morning was filled with warmth and laughter, chasing each other and seeing his friends. He even made flower crowns for his mothers.

Then he caught sight of Mallowstripe.

The camp keeper sat stiffly near the gathered warriors of SaltClan, his tail curled tightly around himself. His eyes darted between their clanmates, lingering too long on Wolfstar, on Snowspeckle, on Lynxdawn. It wasn’t the usual nervous energy Ripplepaw had come to expect from him—no, this was something else. His fur was puffed ever so slightly, his claws flexing against the dirt.

Ripplepaw hesitated, ears flicking. Mallowstripe wasn’t the only one acting strangely. Wolfstar, who usually held herself with elegance, looked…distracted. She sat with her mates instead of the leaders, barely speaking to anyone.

He could see Jaggedstar sneaking, unsubtle glances towards her, but she remained seated with her peers.

His mother and deputy, Snowspeckle, kept looking towards Shadowdive, whose usual silence had turned heavy, unreadable. And Lynxdawn—

Ripplepaw turned, searching for the medicine cat, but Otterpaw found her first. His brother was still and watchful, ears angled toward where she sat with the other clerics. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but Ripplepaw felt the shift in him like the crackle of distant thunder.

Something was wrong.

He signed to ask what was wrong, but Otterpaw didn’t answer.

The festival went on, but the air felt thicker. Ripplepaw tried to shake it off, to focus on the warmth of the sun on his fur and the dull laughter of other apprentices. But Otterpaw was tense beside him, and every time Ripplepaw let himself get distracted, some small detail would drag him back—, a pair of warriors exchanging wary glances, the way shadows stretched just a bit too long beneath the trees.

Night was approaching and the feast was brought forth. Sweet marinated meats and delightfully crunchy fried grasshoppers were served. The dessert was a thin, flax pancake soaked in honey, nuts, and dried flowers.

The sweet food was a good distraction, after the meal he and his brother began chasing fireflies that had appeared. A few other apprentices joined them, his friend finchpaw amongst them.

Then, as the gathering neared its end, Lynxdawn pulled Wolfstar, Snowspeckle, Shadowdive, and Mallowstripe aside. Ripplepaw watched as his clanmates slipped away from the clearing, their pelts brushing in hushed urgency. He strained his ears, but the festival’s noise swallowed what little of their voices he could hear. Otterpaw shifted beside him, tail twitching.

“They’re talking about the ritual,” Otterpaw murmured.

Ripplepaw swallowed. He didn’t know what he had expected from the invocation, only that it had been important. Sacred. But looking at his clanmates now, their hushed words and grim expressions, he wasn’t sure what had come of it.

The tension remained even as SaltClan gathered to leave. The festival’s joy still clung to the air, but for their clan, the weight of something unspoken settled over their pelts. Ripplepaw glanced back one last time at the clearing, the firelight flickering over unfamiliar faces.

Whatever had happened that night by the bonfire, whatever answer Lynxdawn had received—

The ritual had failed.

And SaltClan would bear the weight of it alone.

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Moon 0

[wowiewowielwowie]

Can you write a Skipp x reader oneshot?

YESUESYES YES

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"The apple of my eye" - Ramshackle

Skipp x Reader

Romantic

Oneshot

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OH YEAH IH YEAH OH YEAH I ❤️ SKIPP

yes i absolutely HAVE to make the title a cheesy apple joke anyways this is my first time working on my laptop i usually do this on my phone i hope there wont b a crazy amount of typos cuz ill cry lwk

UMMM OK holy shoot so i just wrote out like a million headcanons and then scrolled back up to see its supposed to be a oneshot oh my god i have never been more embarrassed ermmmmm u get both i guess

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I really like Skipp

He's bubbly, caring, selfless, and compassionate towards those closest to him (as well as literal strangers on the street). It's no wonder people just love to label him such endearing terms, like 'sunshine' and 'goober'. Occasionally, he's reduced to things like 'scrap' and 'street rat', but he's good at paying them no mind.

And he just loves to give them right back. He has personal, silly nicknames assigned to everyone in his life. His personal favorites are always apple-related. Those, he likes to reserve for you. Things like "the apple of my eye" or "Honeycrisp" (extra emphasis on the "honey" part). He'll coo them under his breath with shy smiles and light touches- it's how he likes to make his love known (one of many other ways).

He likes to comfort with music. He'll sit right by your side, mandolin in hand, and peer over to get a good look at your fallen expression. Sympathy is evident on his face. He hates seeing people (especially you) so sad. He'll quietly strum his mandolin, almost as if he's simply tuning it, testing the waters. And then he adds on a couple of quiet verses, mostly light-hearted, silly ones, to cheer you up. His voice, although no rockstar's, is charming, gentle, comforting, and occasionally, he has to take a quick breath or pause to brainstorm another verse. It only adds to the gesture.

Honestly, if you cry, he probably cries too. It's partially because he shares your pain for whatever reason/feels super sad to see you in such a state, and partially because he doesn't want you to feel embarrassed for being the only one crying. He's happy to take the attention off of you as long as it temporarily alleviates your pain.

Skipp has "secret brain". He seems like an airhead, even up close, as if he thinks everything is sunshine and rainbows. But, truthfully, he's just optimistic and has a generally positive outlook on life, and he's actually very street-smart. He knows his way around the town and can pull off some successful scams, some of which actually leave his companions stunned. Also, he's pretty strong. He's agile and, as most scraps do, has a healthy amount of muscle despite being malnourished a lot of his life. He's "squishy", too, and a real joy to cuddle if that's something you're into.

Skipp, despite being in (almost) constant fight-or-flight mode, holds his morals high. Even though he has to commit a multitude of crimes to survive, he favors the more moral ones. He'd rather not commit atrocious crimes, especially not in front of a significant other. Of course, he'll do what's necessary and, as seen in the pilot, can and will get violent if warranted. He even does the whole "this one's for you honeybee!!!!" (GAG EWWW EW EW EW) with a dorky smile before running head-first into an angry mob and potentially getting his shit rocked.

Nature-centered gifts are his thing. He's a huge "hippie", or the equivalent to one in his era, and holds a lot of respect and love for nature. He hopes you do, too, because you're getting a bunch of hand-picked wildflowers, apples, funny-looking tree branches, more apples, oranges, and really big crunchy leaves that are in perfect condition so that you can crunch them, and it's all satisfying. He'll also find some "junk" in some alleyway and clean it up to the best of his abilities to gift to you. Anything shiny catches his attention. He also likes to make sure you're eating enough, despite how scarce food can be. He'll hand over his morsel of food in a heartbeat if you're still hungry, disregarding his own growling stomach.

ummm ok oneshot time bc i actually forgot. I kinda wanted to make it more like a comfot thing bc i do like the idea of him using music and stuff to help,, esp if they're not rreally feeling a deep convo or wahtever SORRY I PANICKED IDK WHAT IM DOING AND IDK HOW TO SAVE A DRAFT ON A COMPUTER

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You huff, visibly distraught. Your furrowed eyebrows and tear-streaked cheeks make it ever so evident as you crouch pathetically in some deserted alleyway. It's not like you want to look like a wet cat, moping in an empty, trash-ridden alley. You simply had a 'bad day'. That's how you put it, at least, when conversing with Vinnie, before wandering off to some secluded area to sob your heart out. That's what Stone would do. The thought makes you temporarily recoil. You keep crying, regardless. Skipp says it's good for the soul to have a little cry every now and then, anyway, and you don't recall his advice every leading you wrong.

So, you continue to sulk in the miserable little alleyway. You can count your lucky stars that it's not raining, at the very least. You groan and rest your aching head against your knees.

And then you hear the faintest footsteps. You hope whoever it is, they'll leave you alone. An item hits the floor with a quiet clunk, and it sounds wooden. You tilt your head to peer at the intruder, and take back your previous complaints and wishes of wanting them to go away.

It's Skipp (accompanied by his mandolin, of course). It's always Skipp. When is it ever not Skipp? He looks concerned, as most anyone would when approaching such a show. You wipe your tears with a sniffle and muster up a small, tired smile.

"Hey, sorry. I didn't, like, freak you out or anything, did I?" you ask, your voice a little hoarse. Skipp's eyebrows knit together as your weakened voice fills the otherwise silent alleyway, though he still returns your smile with a toothy one of his own.

"Freak me out?" he repeats with a laugh as he gets situated on the rough ground. He reaches over and grabs his mandolin, setting it over his lap and strumming a quiet, pleasant tune absentmindedly. "Of course not! I'm more worried about you, to be honest." He gives you a sympathetic look, shifting to sit closer. You're shoulder-to-shoulder now. You lean into him slightly, and his hair tickles your face.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice having grown quiet with worry. You wave it off with a quiet hum.

"It's no big deal."

"It is to me."

You want to rip your hair out, but not out of frustration or anger. A couple of tears slide down your cheeks and, before you realize it, you're crying again. You internally curse yourself out and bring a hand to your face to hastily wipe them away. Unfortunately, Skipp has beaten you to it. He already has his thumb on your cheek, swiping away salty tears. You crack another small, genuine smile.

"I won't press if you don't want to talk about it, but," he pauses, gives you another warm smile. His hand falls to your shoulder and he gives it a gentle squeeze before returning to his instrument. "I'm always happy to listen."

His words allow you to relax a little bit more. You lean against him fully, now, as he makes up a song on the spot. It's both upbeat and slow, quiet yet loud enough to portray some story he made up in his head. He includes all kinds of silly metaphors and probably made-up words. Every now and then he pauses to inhale sharply or make up yet another storyline for his seemingly endless song. It makes you laugh, which makes him smile.

Once he finishes, he sets his mandolin aside and turns to properly face you, leaning into your personal space for a split moment to press a quick, feather-light kiss to your cheek, nearing the corner of your mouth, before simply continuing strumming his mandolin with redder ears than usual. It leaves you confused and stammering, and unsurprisingly, wanting more.

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A/N: ok so thats where im ending it

oh boy my hands are FREEZING OH MY GOD its so hard to type w cold hands omg

right so anyway sorry both the hcs and the oneshot are lwk kind of short?? clearly i have a favorite lmao

i struggle a little with onceshots cuz i cant develop plots or ideas past silly tidbits of info so this tends to be as good as they get