#lust chapter

[orchestrasekai]

✦ Lukana Octo Papercraft ✦

[purble-turble]

I feel like everyone and their cousin has created a Lust Clone for MK, so y’know, I thought I’d make my own haha.. Red Son and the clones are just so much fun, and he gets very flustered by them hehehh

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

good morning. hey hey hey rhys stans, imma need y’all to shut the fuck up. idk what happened at y’all’s last meeting to decide what bs to spread across the fandom, but landing on “nesta sa’d cassian” is laughable at best and evident of brain damage at worst, like did y’all stretch before reaching to the fucking stars for that one??? wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle. nesta was a prisoner, and cassian was her warden, yea?? you get that 😀😀😀😀 and to make it worse, y’all are STILL denying that rhys sa’d feyre, so i wish you a very happy shut. the. fuck. up.

[thefrenchydude]

Murderous Lust - Chapter 1 : (Re-)Acquaintanced.

(Here is the first chapter of the new version of Murderous Lust written by @nocturneeros. I loved it, hope y'all do too.)

The stars are so pretty tonight. The air on this balcony is so fresh… And yet…

He still can’t help but feel as though something will go wrong at any moment. Or, more accurately, that something is missing from his life. Something that watches him, lurking in the dark, waiting for the chance to reveal itself and force him to acknowledge it. And only then will he begin to remember the tormentor provoking these feelings.

[Name] can’t find it in him to bring this situation up to his husband. How is he supposed to describe an invisible — potentially entirely unreal — danger? The nightmares he has of two creatures encompassed by shadow holding him prisoner. Two silhouettes that don’t stay in the shape of anything he can make out.

He would surely be treated as a madman.. There’s nobody he can say from his past that has given him this fear. Even with all of the things he’s done, everything that haunts him now…

That’s right. It’s more likely to be some sort of subconscious torment. He must be doing this to himself. But it’s not like he knows psychology well enough to put any words to what these nightmares might be coming from. That’s far beyond him.

It would make sense, though, given the other half of his nightmares. They’re all far more explicit in replaying the horrors of the life he left behind. The innocent faces he killed that blur in his memories, as though they’re still as inconsequential to him as he forced himself to believe while doling out their untimely demise. 

He can still feel the weight of a knife in his hand, the way the handle would start slipping once his victim was covered in blood. When he was more inexperienced, he would never know how to grasp it right. That left many a scar on his dominant hand, where the blade would cut him, allowing their blood to mix with his own.

If it wasn’t a knife, it was his hands around their neck. He’s glad he can’t remember any of their faces. Not how they looked when he was squeezing the life from them, cutting off their airflow. He’s grateful for the fact that he can’t remember the light leaving their eyes.

But he had to. He had to do it so that he could live to see another day. Even in that life, where he slept in the cold filth, body covered in bruises. He had to do what he could. Anything to survive. Death was not an option. Not a more favorable one, at least.

Lex was his way out. [Name] tried again and again to claw his way out of the pit he was unfortunate enough to be in. Every single attempt failed, sometimes sending him back further than where he had initially started.

[Name] can still remember meeting him when he was at his worst so many years ago. Lex was charming, well-dressed, and a rather influential man in Auroria. Still is. And he has given [Name] everything. A new chance at life, a huge house to live in, a comfortable bed to sleep in, strong arms to fall into. At some point, [Name] was able to see past his money and looks, falling for his husband’s compassion and tender behavior.

Those are traits he can’t remember seeing from many. Especially not the rich and elite.

Maybe they can change that, though.

If they can change others’ lives the same way Lex changed his…

It’s also because of that man, after all, that [Name] has managed to rise to the top of society. He’s met the city’s most influential people through his husband. What type of cretin would he be, with all of the damage he’s done, if he didn’t use this new chance for the benefit of his city? He has to fight the inequality and poverty he’s personally witnessed running rampant. He has to keep more young kids who would have otherwise had bright futures from falling into the same pits he did.

“[Name]? Are you up here?” Lex’s voice rings out from behind him, and [Name] turns, met with the sight of his lover’s concerned face.

“I am. Sorry. What’s wrong?” He stands, Lex’s small smile sending his heart fluttering. The relief in his eyes is flattering. He’s still not used to being fretted over. He’s not sure if he ever will be.

“Just looking for you. Wanted to see if you’re all set for the party?”

“Oh, I am. Don’t worry.” It was just going to be another stuffy party. One for celebration and schmoozing. [Name] shrugs, not really looking forward to rubbing elbows with the other rich folk, but he can make do if it’s for a better future.

Lex’s hand comes up to his cheek, and it seems as though he’s searching [Name]’s eyes for something. Trying to tell if he’s bluffing, perhaps? Whatever signs he’s seeking, however, he doesn’t find it, and sighs before kissing the other man on the forehead. “Good. Let’s go get dinner, yeah?” His voice is soft, soothing, and [Name] is quick to agree, eager to get any food in his stomach.

***

The evening of the party rolls around. The manor they’re hosting in has been decorated to the nines, all glammed up to celebrate the city’s 500th Anniversary.

Truthfully, [Name] can’t find it in himself to love this city. The bitterness of what he experienced living here weighs on him. Getting to this position didn’t cure him of the trauma wrought onto him, nor did it bring back the lives he took away just to survive.

But that’s what he’s trying to change. So even if he has to rub elbows with the prissy little aristocrats who are convinced there’s nothing that needs fixing…

Not ready to talk with the other influential members of society quite yet, [Name]’s eyes dart around the room, locking onto his husband. He is quick to make his way over to Lex, waiting until he finishes speaking before pulling him over to the side. Despite this, Lex is the first to speak, keeping his voice low. “Hey. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Debatable. [Name] has always hated these gatherings. He much prefers getting his hands dirty with busywork. All of this conversation is never good for him. It wears him out far too fast. “You?”

“You know I’m okay.” Very true. Lex was born into this. Accustomed to it. Way better at handling people than [Name] ever would be. “But why did you pull me over?” It was normal for [Name] to ask for Lex’s attention if he got overwhelmed (which he did quite frequently during these things). Or even to regroup and discuss something serious so that they knew how to tackle it — like convincing someone more influential than them to help push some plan or other. But given that the party has just started…

“Do you think they’ll come?”

“No. They never do.”

Right.

Still, though… [Name] can’t help the dark, wriggling sensation in his chest when he thinks about them. Perhaps it’s just the rumors, but he’s never been one to be this nervous about someone he’s not likely to ever meet. Even if they’re demons, the persistent anxiety is rather excessive and terribly draining on his psyche.

Lex is more sensible than he, however. He should probably trust his judgment on this.

“You’re right. I’ll go talk with some of the guests.”

Lex smiles at him, leaning over to brush a small kiss on his cheek before pulling back. “I’ll be upstairs, then. You cover down here.”

[Name] nods, watching his husband leave before turning to the crowd.

Steeling himself, he heads into the heart of the party, working his way through each group and their issues one by one.

The first is a huffy nobleman thoroughly upset by the rampant crime running through the city. A common take.

“We really need to do something about these criminals. They’re getting far too bold!”

[Name] purses his lips, mind flashing to a… specific group he really, really needs to get out of this city. He feels as though this guy just means the poor, though. “We do…” Test the limits. Vaguely agree. The typical way to get around these people without stepping on any toes and control his own temper. “What do you propose we do about them?”

Of course, this man uses that time to spout things [Name] knows is entirely unrealistic and can’t be proposed to anyone higher-up on a serious level. Not responsibly, at least. There’s so much that goes into these things… Funds, regulations, majority agreement. The idea of it all makes his head spin. Just taking it one step at a time feels overwhelming at times.

If it were that easy, this city would already be thriving. Lex and [Name] have their own ideas on how to get there, regardless of what these prissy little peacocks dressed as men say.

When he escapes that conversation, it’s right into the figurative arms of a noblewoman flooded with anxiety and fretting over the potential arrival of those esteemed guests.

“I heard they’re actually coming today. Is that true?”

[Name] has a good idea of who she’s talking about, yet he furrows his brow anyway and cocks his head, not wanting to assume. It’d be embarrassing to make a fool of himself around these people… And damage his reputation. Such are the flights of fancy of those higher up. “Who?”

“The founders.”

Ah. [Name] had thought there was a chance for them to arrive, too… This is the 500th year, after all. That’s a pretty big milestone… Truthfully, he thinks there can still be a chance, however small. “Perhaps. I guess we’ll see, huh?” He forces a smile he hopes feels cheeky and mysterious, his own mind wandering…

After listening to her vent out her fears, he’s met with something far less infuriating to deal with. Simple, boring, mundane chatter. But welcome simple, boring, mundane chatter.

“I’ve been thinking of expanding Mark’s Grove.”

“That little park off by the river?”

The noble [Name] speaks to nods emphatically, almost bursting at the seams to talk about this little passion project of theirs. “Yes! It’s so cute, isn’t it? But the kids around there complain about how little room there is to play. It’d definitely be perfect if it was larger. We could even add a playground and a sports field!”

That’s true… Right now, it just felt like the typical random park people went to for picnics. A nice spot to go to if you had some downtime for relaxing. Maybe even for a midnight stroll. But nothing quite that exciting. Especially not for kids.

“That sounds amazing. We really do need more places for kids to have fun. Keeps them out of trouble.”

The noble practically glows, grinning when [Name] agrees with them. “Right! My house is going to host a fundraising event for it next month. Will we see you there?”

“I’ll have to talk with my husband, but it’s very likely. It’s a wonderful venture. I’ll make sure to spread the word, at the very least, even if we can’t make it ourselves.”

“Oh, you’re so gracious!”

That noble lavishes him with praises that he quite enjoys, and then [Name] is off to the next. And the next. And the next… One after another…

After much verbal dancing around, [Name] manages to find the time to sit down. Close to being overwhelmed, he takes a glass of wine and sips from it, eyes roaming the crowd. And as he drinks, he thinks about those invited guests who aren’t likely to arrive despite being much anticipated.

Demons who stayed on everyone’s mind. Warlords who defeated another powerful demon that destroyed the village on which Auroria was built. Their beloved had been sacrificed in the process. Everyone knew the tragedy of their story.

It was worth the admiration. However, there were rumors that the demon had murdered the couples’ lover. And that the aforementioned lover had initially been abducted by the two, held captive. There was a chance that the demon monkeys had destroyed the town themselves in revenge for the fall of their lover.

Who knows? Only the ones who were alive 500 years ago. They were the ones who wrote this city’s history.

[Name] takes another sip of his wine just as something catches his eye…

It would seem as though Lex was wrong this time. They had come. Two silhouettes that feel… far more familiar than they should have, move through the party.

Liu’er Mihou, the Six-Eared Macaque. A tall simian with black fur and dark purple eyes. One would look at him and assume he was of the more stoic sort, and yet there was a furrow in his brow, a hand on his hip, and his tail curled around one of his legs. It would be wrong to say his attention was truthfully on the floor; it was more so that he appeared off in his own little world, pondering something [Name] figured he would never be able to fathom, seemingly completely disinterested in the party he had arrived at.

Alongside him stood his brother in arms, Sun Wukong, the more powerful of the two. This simian had orange fur that matched his eyes. This demon was far more standoffish and aware of his surroundings than his companion. His gaze cuts through the crowd, a small sneer on his face. For someone who founded and protected this city, he was awfully hostile to the partygoers at this celebration. That alone is enough to scare the majority of the crowd off from even attempting to speak with him.

Both of them are stunningly well-dressed. They wear corsets matching their colorful irises, the stylish pants covering their bottom halves helping bring attention to the way the tops accentuate their figures. With a bit of unease, [Name] notes the war paint they have not bothered to wash off their faces before arriving.

However, there’s a high chance he’s just overthinking it. The demons were sure to have customs separate from the ones humans upheld. He can’t fathom what their society must be like. The world they live in.

Unfortunately, the aristocrats also had to extend an invitation to the monkeys’ descendants. A common formality, regardless of the distress they caused and their ill reputations. It doesn’t help that in numbers, they make up a whole tribe.

Unlike their parents, they’re seen way too often for anyone’s liking. They bring with them nothing but chaos, tormenting and murdering citizens with lack of care for the lives of the weak mortals. [Name] has been doing his best to find a way to banish them from the city, but given their sheer numbers, power, and who they’re descended from…

It’s easier said than done.

Feeling a headache coming on just thinking about dealing with the rowdy crowd mixing with the prissy little aristocrats, [Name] watches the duo cross the room. Something about them sends a chill through him. The sensation is like ice entering his veins, filling him up with the distinct sense of dread and danger. The urge to flee.

And yet, when he hears the orange siminian’s voice… He can’t make out the words being muttered to the darker companion, and yet his heart still clenches with that heart-wrenching familiarity he can’t understand, no matter how much he thinks about it.

Reaching his breaking point for what he can handle without becoming overwhelmed, [Name] looks around, only to find Lex busy with a small group. Not wanting to distract his husband from something important with his petty little woes, he worries his lip before standing, leaving his unfinished wine on the table before disappearing upstairs, seeking out solace only some alone time in an unoccupied bathroom can give him before he returns to tending to the guests.

When he gets there, he locks the door behind him and sits on the closed toilet seat, burying his face in his hands. Now that he’s up here without any prying eyes, he can allow himself to fall apart.

The shaking in his hands. The racing of his heart. His whole body is trembling and it’s rather difficult to breathe. He squeezes his eyes shut, doing his best to feel it out. Let it happen. It’s always better than allowing it to become pent up. The breakdowns he has when he does so aren’t worth it. He’s hurt Lex during them. He can’t bear to do it again.

He has no idea how much time passes up here. But he stays there, unmoving, until the tremors fade. Still feeling shaky and disoriented, he rises, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water into his face until he feels entirely cooled down.

Once he’s back to his senses, he pats his face dry, breathes in, and releases a heavy sigh. Count to 10.

You’ll be okay.

[Name] returns downstairs, making his way through the crowd, calming down some of the nobles who are more finicky and anxious about the arrival of the demons.

“I never knew they’d actually come…”

[Name] nods along, his agreement idle and kept purposefully vague, not wanting to cause any ire or stir up any drama that’d have long-lasting, potentially devastating consequences. “It is certainly a surprise. It looks as though they have dressed up for it, no? They may see our efforts and respect it.”

“They don’t look happy…”

“We know not their customs. Perhaps they are here on a formality.” The same reason their descendants were invited… “We asked them to come. It is important. We should not be so judgmental to the ones protecting us.” Of course, [Name] can’t help but feel rather apprehensive about them as well, but it’s his responsibility to make sure this doesn’t spiral into something terrible, right?

They shouldn’t anger them. That could undo so much progress — it could set them back and leave them worse off.

A noblewoman chimes in. “But the others…”

Ah. Yeah. It’s far more fair to be anxious about the arrival of the criminals. [Name] has to think on his response before speaking.

“We have to be courteous to those related to our founders, even if they aren’t of the best character themselves. It is important to carry yourself with-”

Before he can finish what he was saying, there’s a crash off to the right. The small group he’s in whips their heads around to see what’s going on.

There’s a human laying in the mess of a toppled table — likely thrown right into it. The offender is immediately clear. A monkey girl with a wine stain on her dress is glaring right at him. [Name] recognizes her as Da Xia; she’s one of the many constant troublemakers they deal with.

“Pardon me.” [Name] dips his head and departs from his group, quick to move between the two when he sees the girl heading over to the fallen human, likely about to beat him down even more (if not straight up kill him). He turns his attention to the simian, his hands raised palms-up to about the height of his chest. “I’m sorry for any offenses this man has done unto you.” He’s so happy he learned this fancy ass rich person speak from Lex. Helps him feel more confident about these things. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to-”

“Get out of my way!”

[Name] swallows. Alright. Potentially saving someone’s life is a tad more difficult than he thought it would be. “I’m sure there’s something I can do to-”

Evidently, this only makes Da Xia far more annoyed, if the way she looks at him like a pathetic soon-to-be smear is any indicator. Or the way she curls her hand into a fist and raises it, her fury aimed at [Name] instead. “Get out of my way, or you’re gonna end up just like him!”

[Name] fumbles over his words, but is soon saved from having to talk his way out of this situation (which he was becoming increasingly sure would have failed) when he sees a larger, black-furred hand grab the raised arm by the wrist.

With the same level of disinterest on his face as when he arrived, Macaque keeps his daughter’s arm in place, not even looking at the scene taking place. He just sighs. “Leave them alone. You should know better than to indulge in these childish antics by now.”

“But he-!”

“You let your temper get the best of you. If you stay here, I’ll make you apologize.”

Da Xia looks absolutely appalled by the mere concept of apologizing to some lower life-form. When Macaque lets go of her wrist, she just scowls and storms off, cursing on her way out of the party. [Name] is sure if she wasn’t so furry, she’d be absolutely red in the face, though he’s not sure whether it’d be from embarrassment or rage.

Probably both.

[Name] takes that opportunity to check on the victim, helping him up. “Are you alright?”

“I believe I am… Terribly sore, so I’ll be heading on home.” That, and he’s currently drenched in food and drink. “Thank you for that. I won’t forget it. I’m indebted to you.”

The excessive praise makes [Name] flush. “Oh, no, really, anyone would have-”

“No, no. You saved my life. Thank you.”

… Well. [Name] believes that. The man struggles to even stand on his own right now, his legs weak and shaky. It takes him a few more moments before [Name] can let go of him, watching him meet up with his fretting wife before they leave the party together.

Reassured by the nobleman not being seriously injured, [Name] prepares to head back into the party, but is stopped by Macaque approaching him. The human tenses, eyes darting everywhere but the monkey in his uncertainty. Does he owe him? Is he indebted?

Before he can get anything out, the simian speaks first. “I apologize for Da Xia’s behavior tonight. She is still quite young. You know how kids are. Impulsive little things.”

That brings [Name]’s eyes up to his face. Relief floods his body when he realizes it’s just an apology. “Ah, yeah, haha…” In his struggle to remain cool under the circumstances, he slips up from his more formal speech, and this causes a whole new wave of dread to run through him when the simian meets his gaze.

Oh fuck, he totally knows I’m a fraud. He’s going to take back the formalities. What if he kills me for even deining to speak to him when I’m clearly not of anywhere near close to the same social standing?

However, Macaque’s eyes widen with… recognition? [Name] is only somewhat certain it’s that emotion when the monkey gasps, but he can’t be sure why. He’s never met him before, even if his own heart rings with that persistent, nagging feeling that tells him otherwise. Maybe it’s something else. He could be projecting his own feelings onto the demon.

Seeing as how Macaque doesn’t respond, [Name] clears his throat, giving a polite incline of his head before prodding the man. “Your Lordship, Liu’er Mihou?”

The dark-furred monkey blinks, then… smiles? It’s such a tender expression that it catches [Name] off-guard. He even thinks he sees wetness in those purple eyes of his, but Macaque dips his head too quickly for [Name] to confirm this. And without another word, he rejoins Wukong. They’re too far away for [Name] to hear the conversation.

Somewhat baffled by the encounter, [Name] decides it’s just amazing for him to get away with all of his extremities intact. He’s breathing and in no pain, so that’s a total win, as far as he’s concerned. And Sun Wukong even appears delighted by whatever the Six-Eared Macaque is telling him, given the wide grin on his face and the arch in his tail, so that’s a sign of no ill will coming their way (hopefully).

All was resolved peacefully. Maybe their relationship with the magnanimous protectors of the city has even gotten better? This could lead to so much development in the future. It might make many things easier.

Just as [Name] starts to think about how to use this potential boon to their advantage, Lex appears, wrapping [Name] in his arms and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. When the blonde pulls back, his eyes are full of concern. He cups [Name]’s cheek in a broad hand, his gaze searching. “You’re okay, love?”

The worry makes [Name]’s heart melt. He smiles, leaning into his husband’s touch. “I am. It went well.” He glances over to where he last saw the simians, thinking of all the good news to tell his husband about what he witnessed. However, the sight he’s greeted with sends a jolt of pure fear straight into his heart.

Wukong had started heading over to them, but his earlier grin was gone from his face, replaced by a scowl directed straight at [Name] and his husband. Those orange eyes were full of absolute bloodlust.

(Story re-written by @nocturneeros)

(AU inspired by @semisolidmind and @hcdragonwrites (hope you get back to writing soon, really loved your stories.))

[nerdy-talks]

No, Raphael. I don't "believe" that...

I know it.

And I am 100% positive that Mammon, Leviathan, and Lucifer feel the same way about Satan.

Mammon loves his brothers. That's a fact. There's literally no way in Hell Mammon will leave his little brother behind.

Levi definitely wouldn't abandon the one person who allowed Henry to shed his skin in peace! In all seriousness, Levi sees Satan differently now, in a positive way. Levi was even the first to think about Satan when Raphael first proposed the offer to return to the Celestial Realm.... so yeah, Levi definitely won't leave him behind.

And Lucifer loves his brothers too. Lucifer will always look out for them, defend them, and do whatever he can to keep them happy, safe, and together.

Satan will NOT be an exception. Satan is a member of the family. Satan will never be excluded or forgotten. The brothers will never abandon Satan.

And when all is said and done... I hope Satan will realize just how important he is to everyone, how much his brothers love him, and that he genuinely is one of them and belongs with them.

[madness-of-void]

Can I Keep You?

Rating: Teen & Up

Relationship: Lustmare (Lust/Nightmare)

Tags: Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Past Abuse, Self-Loathing, Past Rape/Non-con, (only implied), Panic Attacks, Fluff And Angst, Mostly Fluff, Mention of past Lust/Dance, The Apple Incident, just a mention, everyone needs a hug, Mild Sexual Content

Chapters: 5

Posting Schedule: Every Thursday until done!

Part of the Reunion in Chains (RIC) Series

Summary:

They were staring at the shelf before them, uncertain of the contents, with a brilliant cyan eyelight.

Wait...cyan?

Strange.

That was not a color Lust had seen with any other skeleton he had met. And he had met far too many to keep track of! In fact...the only one he for sure knew was connected to cyan was...

Nightmare.

[funnyrobot]

ok. so what. so i want it? want it bad? ?bbig fuckig deal. leave me alone.

[cowboah-baby]

i'm not a pro writer or anything but i will tell you, if you get super horny while writing a sex scene, use that pent-up lust to fuel you to write 2k in an hour – ONLY jack off when you've written the scene, then return to write the post-coital glow when you've served yourself!! rinse and repeat a few times with the same draft because it becomes hornier every time

[mustangphobia]

FAV FIC POSTED AGAIN WHO CHEERED! I DID!

[firestorm09890]

Heathcliff's chapter is right after Ishmael's, here's why I think Peccatulum Invidiae (the envy one) is finally going to be introduced in his chapter

*EDIT: turns out Superbiae and Luxuriae were introduced in Canto III, not II, so that slide's been changed to reflect that

[orchestrasekai]

✦ Maylis Beelzenia Papercraft ✦

[poppy5991]

Hawks is asked to go undercover to bust a villain with a lust-inducing quirk. He makes a request, just in case things go south. Which they shouldn’t, really!

(They do. Thankfully, Enji is there to help.)

———

So smutty, yet so soft

[crispy-art-on-fire]

Now after having drawn a serious Vampyr comic I draw my crackship. Sean Hampton x William Bishop. I am the captain of this ship and I declare that they would be freaks (affectionate).

What better way to deal with becoming a Skal than taking out all your urges (consensually) on the man that turned you into this because he could not resist his own urges (but could hold back from out right killing you when we know Vampires can drain a victim in seconds).

Jonathan learns the wonders of gay sex.

[queerfanfiction]

Topic of Study (Ch. 4)

Thank you all for being so, so, so patient as I worked on updating this story. :)

Larissa Weems x PhDstudent!Reader

AO3 link

The previous week’s assault was still on your mind. You were kind of confused that queer or queer-allied punk people would be so narrow minded and aggressive towards outcasts. Surely they could empathize with people not understanding their identity or how narratives are used against marginalized groups.

Regardless, you could usually read people better than that. Then again, you didn’t really know the people Imogen brought with her. Hell, you barely knew Imogen if you could be honest with yourself. She had reached out via text a few times, but you couldn’t give it your full attention at the moment. Curse your high sex drive making you reckless when it came to who you sought company with.

Your mind wanders to Larissa and the last conversation you two had. She was certainly firm and more reserved. Her desire for you pushed down and masked. It’s one of the reasons you felt so compelled to see Imogen; you wanted your own desire quenched. The older woman was too magnetic.

You can’t help but anticipate your next interaction with the principal. Mrs. Cunningham had sent you an itinerary for the first week. Apparently there were a lot of speaking engagements scheduled for the first normie graduate student to study at the academy. After the chaos of the previous year, good publicity was a necessity. Because of this, much of your time was spent with Larissa. Local news interviews, a public guided tour of new accommodations, a town hall style briefing at the Weathervane, a ribbon cutting ceremony to symbolize a fresh start with the community. You could go on. On one hand, this meant time with the older woman—time you could use to clear the air and reset the energy between you two. On the other hand, the programming barely leaves a quiet moment for the two of you. You wonder if Larissa intended that to be the case to minimize awkwardness.

With the arrival of the new semester, Nevermore students were rapidly arriving, and the faculty were finalizing their lesson plans. The days since coming back from Burlington felt a bit isolated since you didn’t know anyone, and you were nursing a bruised ribcage from the comfort of your living quarters. Now that you’re feeling better, you hoped to get a few things done before students started overtaking the quiet study areas.

Still feeling low effort, you pull on a baggy brown knit sweater and brown high-rise slacks. You were thankful that the monochrome outfit seemed more high effort than it actually was. Wanting to feel comforted, you packed your bag with some books to research while sipping something soothing at the Weathervane.

You opted to walk and absorb the already changing air of Vermont in September. It was still humid out, but it was cool enough to enjoy the stroll. Almost in a trance from the light breeze and gentle woodland sounds, you started to wonder how Larissa would respond to your presence in the coming weeks.

Would she act distant and removed? Would she be stern with you? Would she mention your shared kiss and how heated and passionate it was? Would she acknowledge that you two would have gone much further without the interruption from the car horn?

In what seemed like no time at all, you arrived in Jericho.

Almost at the entrance to the café, you remembered the multiple unanswered texts from Imogen hanging over your head since the assault. Well, no time like the present to confront things you’ve been putting off from a lack of knowing how to proceed.

You step through the threshold to…not Imogen. Phew. The barista working barely looked up at the chime of the entrance jingle. Thankful to have more time to your thoughts, you pick an empty booth to spread out on.

You ordered your coffee and brought out a couple different texts from your bag. One was “Other” as Monster: Deconstructing Bias for Marginalized Outcasts. The other was Foundational Concepts in Shapeshifter Cultures—the book you reached for at the library with Larissa and failed to open until now. You decided to forgo your computer and opt for your notepad instead. You didn’t need more distractions, and you knew any access to recent Nevermore news articles would end up with your eyes on the tall silver-haired woman.

An empty mug, color-coded sticky notes, and a slew of highlighters and pens cover the table in front of you and your two open books. You’ve been told to go through one reference at a time, but it made sense in your brain to work on both at the same time. You felt like it was easier to see how the texts worked together and differently regarding the subjects. You pulled quotes and read for more context between outcast identities and their history. However, you were so disappointed in the shapeshifter cultures anthology. There were hardly any sections on universal shapeshifters; instead, there were a lot of details of metamorphoses in Greek mythology, lycanthropy, and even vampires. You were surprised the book even mentioned East Asian kitsunes since it focused so heavily on Greek, Roman, and Norse histories. According to this account, shapeshifting was often punitive in nature and had connections to mischievousness and deceit.

While reading, you furiously tagged quotes and wrote your own commentary on post-its to mark in the book. Some of your handwriting looked feral, and you hoped you could decipher it later. You were too focused to slow down and write neatly.

Annoyance and righteousness cut through you as you continued through the anthology on shapeshifting. You knew covering so many different histories was difficult, but so much of the positive or holy connotations regarding shapeshifters was missing. Needing to vent, you spam texted your best friend, Komeha’e.

Her own outcast experience was riddled with marginalization from mostly white, normie culture. She would always tell you stories about varying Native American shapeshifter cultures. Most were stories of protection or healing within Native communities. You can hear her cute, know-it-all voice now, “Shapeshifting not only provides benefits for individuals and their communities, but it also deepens the bond between human, nature, and wild animals—an important component of indigenous teachings, beliefs, and spirituality.” Neither of her parents were shapeshifters, so she learned a lot about her identity and its ties to her culture through her grandparents. Komeha’e loved to recount every morsel to you, and you cherished it right back. That’s how you knew the information perpetuated by even the reputable book in front of you was skewed.

You sipped your latte while fully engrossed in your text conversation. Because of this, you weren’t aware of Imogen’s entrance into the Weathervane. Well, that is until she was right in front of you waving a hand in front of your face.

“…h-hey.”

You internally scream that your chance of studying at the Weathervane in solitude is now ruined. “Imogen. Hi.”

The next 45 minutes are spent debriefing on what happened at the club in Burlington. Imogen promised you she didn’t know her friends would do that to you and wanted to make it up to you. You ended up letting her know you needed time to think things over. You’re not sure you can trust her if that is the company she grew up with and continues to keep. Whether you’re an outcast or not frankly had no influence on how you felt. Their behavior was abhorrent. Exhausted from the long and unexpected discussion, you make an excuse to pack up and walk back to Nevermore.

The following morning you met with Mrs. Cunningham to go over the questions Vermont News & Entertainment (VNE) sent over in preparation for your interview. You memorize down to the third question before you two are interrupted by none other than Principal Larissa Weems herself. Her abrupt presence makes your stomach drop and your heart race.

“Ah, Mrs. Cunningham. I assume you’re prepping our new graduate fellow?” Bright smiles get thrown to you both. God, that woman can make someone feel unstoppable. You flash a quick and innocent grin back. Before small talk can continue, Larissa proceeds, “The new academy newspaper, Marginalia, would like an official interview.” Her fingers motion to you and beckon you to follow her. You gather your things and thank Mrs. Cunningham for her time before walking toward Larissa and the door.

“After you.” A shiver shoots down your spine and you feel your mouth go dry when the older woman’s hand rests on your lower back to guide you through the doorframe and halls.

You can barely contain the urge to gaze upon Larissa in confusion and shock. Your mind had conjured up many different scenarios for what the dynamic between you two would be, but this was not one of them. After walking across the quad and through two wings of the academy that you haven’t explored yet, you and Larissa finally reach what you imagine is the room for the school newspaper.

Walking in with confidence, the principal begins, “Yoko, Enid, this is our newest addition to Nevermore.” Larissa turned towards you and finished, “This is Yoko Tanaka and Enid Sinclair. They volunteered to revive Nevermore’s very own student newspaper.”

A sweet and excited figure comes into your personal space, already mid-hug before you can make sense of what is happening. A singsong voice to match rings out, “Oh my gosh, this is so cool. I can’t wait to publish our first issue. It’s going to be so much better than my Nevermore gossip blog. And you’re our first interviewee!”

Over Enid’s shoulder you see a slightly taller figure with blackout glasses and impeccable dark lipstick. She steps forward and peels Enid away from you. The one who must be Yoko mutters, “Let’s get started.”

“I’ll be right over there.” Larissa mentions as she steps away with an amused look on her face. Larissa uses this time with you distracted to collect her thoughts and watch you interact with the two students. She knew her hand placement on your lower back walking here was reckless; the principal normally didn’t act without thinking. However, her hospitality and interest leaned too flirtatious when it came to you. That much was apparent from your very first meeting. Your success at Nevermore would mean redress for the events of the past year—proof that normies and outcasts could get along and even thrive. Tainting that endeavor for the academy and community in Jericho would be inexcusable in her eyes. So, then, Larissa asked herself, why does she continually risk everything to be close to you?

In the interview, Enid and Yoko take the approach of each asking a question back and forth. Kind of like a good cop bad cop thing. You think that anyone who reads it and knows them will be able to tell who asked which questions. For instance, Enid asks about normies from where you grew up to start off the interview. Yoko proceeds to ask why you chose to study at Nevermore specifically. Enid, as if she’s an old friend catching up, wants to know how you’re finding the town and school. She then proceeds to tell you to check out something called Hawte Kewture, but you have no idea what it is.

In between questions, of course your mind wanders to the silver-haired blonde seated nearby. Larissa was friendly—almost as if the last interaction you two had was not a chastening due to making out passionately in the academy’s van/shuttle. Her demeanor caught you off guard, but you’d rather have the opportunity to be close with her than not.

A strange echoing disrupts your thoughts. Uh oh, Yoko and Enid have been waiting for you to respond and are now asking if you’re okay.

“Sorry, I’m still in the process of transferring my ADHD medicine over. What’d you say?” You hoped to not have to explain yourself too much. Otherwise, you’re sure you’d blush a bright red.

Yoko repeats, seemingly unfazed, “Why study outcasts and normies when you’re not as affected by the issue? You know…since you’re a normie.”

“Oh, it’s kind of personal, but I-” A knock on the door interrupts before you can continue to answer. Larissa had sat forward in her chair in anticipation, interested in the answer. Disappointed in the intrusion, she makes a mental note to ask you later.

“Apologies, ladies. We are needed elsewhere. The interview will have to continue another day.” Larissa reassures the two girls in front of you. Well, mostly Enid who looks pitiful.

“Hey, I had a lot of fun. And now I know who to turn to when I have questions about Nevermore. That would really help me out. I’ll see you around, okay?” You try your hardest to sound like a supportive big sister. It seems to work, because Enid beams a toothy smile and nods excitedly. You begin to walk out and don’t catch Larissa’s affectionate gaze due to your efforts. She then leads you outside to the quad where news anchors and cameras are set up and waiting.

The next interview commences. You and Larissa sit together since you’ll both be answering questions about the new fellowship position and its legacy for Nevermore.

After the interview and a lot of social pleasantries, you can tell you’re dehydrated and hungry. You hadn’t eaten that morning, unfortunately. You went straight to Mrs. Cunningham’s briefing without breakfast. As if she could read your mind, Larissa offers for you two to eat in her office before any further engagements. How can you pass that up?

Once in her office, she disappears. You’re not sure where but you can assume it is the same place she went to get the scones and fig spread you two devoured before in the faculty lounge. When she returns, she gestures for you to sit while she gathers plates and drinks. Larissa takes a seat next to you and lets out a long sigh.

“You okay?”

Larissa pours herself a glass of red wine and turns toward you. “What happened the other night?”

Surprised she wanted to discuss what happened between you two, you confess, “Well, a lot of repressed sexual energy got released, and I couldn’t stop myself from finally kissing you, an-”

“No,” Larissa corrects. “What happened that left you stranded and needing to be picked up?” Larissa urges the warmth between her legs at the memory of how heated the two of you became to calm so that she can focus on understanding why it seemed like you were physically assaulted and abandoned.

You take a moment to configure your answer, making sure to not mention that you were desperate for release due to fantasizing about Larissa and texted Imogen to fulfill that need. “I invited Imogen out dancing, and she brought friends along. Her asshole friends thought I was an outcast and didn’t appreciate that possibility.”

“So they hurt you?” Her face was marked with concern and contempt. All you could do was nod. You didn’t particularly want to dwell on it. The older woman in front of you takes a long sip of wine. Apparently still making sense of the threat posed that night, Larissa queries, “Why did they think you were an outcast?”

You omitted why you sought out Imogen in the first place, so you’re not about to explain to Larissa that your mouth was essentially fused to Imogen’s neck while on the dance floor. You hoped this placated the woman beside you, “Uh, they picked me up from Nevermore and had just assumed I was a vampire.”

Sensing that she was not being given the entire truth, Larissa eyed you curiously. Her familiarity with outcasts meant she could understand each give-away for various species. Unfortunately, these precautions were to ensure safety when out around the town. Sirens were instructed to hide their amulets around their necks in their clothes. Gorgons were taught to wear baggier hats so that tight fabric didn’t show the outline of their snakes. Vampires were taught to drink their blood packs out of opaque tumblers and wear special contacts if they were light sensitive. Even sunglasses started to be questioned by townsfolk for those who wore Nevermore uniforms. Larissa never saw you wear sunglasses or carry around any travel mugs. The image of you against Imogen’s neck appeared in her mind and wouldn’t leave. She despised the thought, even though it was the most likely explanation.

At a loss of what to say next, the two of you passed time by eating sandwiches and breaking down the interviews thus far.

“Your answer to Yoko’s final question before being interrupted, what were you going to say?”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, making way for an adequate answer. You didn’t know how much to divulge to the woman in front of you. “My best friend, Kome. I’ve always been a bit justice-oriented—guess that comes with being queer and neurodivergent—but I am fiercely protective of outcasts and what they represent. Kome is the strongest person I know and has been through so much at the hands of normies. Hell, even from other outcasts that have internalized normie narratives.” Your eyes flare, as if you are remembering a specific incident.

Continuing while staring into the fireplace, you add, “When she confided in me about being an outcast, I was so sad that she worried how I would react. She deserves armies of support, and I can’t imagine a better person. Making the world just a little bit safer or more understanding regarding outcasts is the least I can do. As a normie, it’s so fucked that my voice is privileged above others’. Because of this, I will always defend those who are marginalized and uplift their voices instead. That’s why I’m a little wary of all the interviews this week. So far most of the questions focus on who I am, but this isn’t about me. It’s about the issues at hand.”

Larissa didn’t expect to be so moved by your response—the raw vulnerability that you had shared with her. Once again, you were proving to be a conundrum for the principal. Senseless attraction or lust was something that could be managed. The tug in her chest pleading to share secrets, small joys, trauma, and deep desires and goals? That was exactly what Larissa didn’t need to deal with.

No response was given by the older woman next to you, not for many moments. Glossy eyes find yours, and Larissa clears her throat to speak. “I had a brother, you know.”

Of course you didn’t know; Larissa was a pretty private person about family. Sensing she needed assistance to get the rest out, you nudge gently, “You did?”

“A twin brother. He-…” Tears bead against Larissa’s lower eyelids, threatening to spill over and ruin her impeccable foundation and blush. “He’s no longer with us. He passed when I was young.”

You nod slowly, almost gravely at her. Anything to let Larissa know you were here and that whatever she uttered in the space between you would be safe. Safe and tucked away again. Almost involuntarily your hand reaches out to caress hers. You tried to convey everything you were thinking through the simple touch. You didn’t dare speak and break the intimacy between you two in this moment.

A ragged, cathartic sigh resonates out from Larissa after awhile of sitting together, hands embraced. “I’ve only ever told one other person about him. A roommate from when I was a student at Nevermore.”

As if she was suddenly aware of her openness and how near your face was to hers while leaning over to hold her hand, Larissa breaks her hand away and rises to stand against the fireplace. The absence of her hand is replaced by cool air dancing across the skin of your palm.

“We don’t want to be late for the press release in Jericho!”

Without missing a beat, you retort playfully while also standing, “And I’ll be driving, Miss Two Glasses of Wine.”

It seems that getting to know Larissa would be challenging, but you understood the significance of today. You knew it wouldn’t be a race or a sprint. In fact, you were prepared for a marathon. If the best things take time, then so be it.

—

Tagging: @readingtheentrails, @justcallmelittleone, @enchantressb, @jeepingay, @gwendolinechristieiscute. Let me know if you want tagged or untagged. :)

[queenlucythevaliant]

'Yes, that old oak with which I saw eye to eye was here in this forest,' thought Prince Andrei. 'But whereabouts?' he wondered again, looking at the left side of the road and, without realizing, without recognizing it, admiring the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, spread out a canopy of dark, sappy green, and seemed to swoon and sway in the rays of the evening sun. There was nothing to be seen now of knotted fingers and scars, of old doubts and sorrows. Through the rough, century-old bark, even where there were no twigs, leaves had sprouted, so juicy, so young that it was hard to believe that aged veteran had borne them.

'Yes, it is the same oak,' thought Prince Andrei, and all at once he was seized by an irrational, spring-like feeling of joy and renewal. All the best moments of his life of a sudden rose to his memory. Austerlitz, with that lofty sky, the reproachful look on his dead wife's face, Pierre at the ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night itself and the moon and ... everything suddenly crowded back into his mind.

'No, life is not over at thirty-one,' Prince Andrei decided all at once, finally and irrevocably. 'It is not enough for me to know what I have in me- everyone else must know it too: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted to fly away into the sky; all of them must learn to know me, in order that my life may not be lived for myself alone.

From War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

[madness-of-void]

Chapter 4 is finally here!!!

The only new tags are just the characters again. Coz I was today years old when I learned that these specific characters need to be in additional tags too in order to pop up.