#mane of skin my beloved.....

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀cowboy!matt x farmer's daughter!reader

based off this bot here. cowboy!matt my beloved. warnings / smut, oral (m!receiving), naive!reader, virgin!afab!reader, p in v, pet names (sugar, darlin', sweet girl, baby, pretty baby etc.) i know nothing about horses so like. THIS IS LONG 😭😭 no clue how many words idk long. cum on. ass !!!!!

"you've got a good heart, darlin'," matt's voice is gentle, warm. characterised by that accent, words oozing out of his mouth like fresh honey. his blue eyes linger on you for a moment, he's trying hard to not rake them over you, to look over your curves beneath the denim of your overalls. you're adorable. the bows on the buttons and all. he's taken a little off guard by the sight of you looking at him with those soft features, his attention grabbed again by your words.

you let out a soft squeak when he grasps at your chin gently, calloused fingers from hard work against your skin. a small smile adorns your lips at the touch, eyes searching his for a moment. matt wishes the absolute best for you, he really does. he wants to ruin you—but maybe also take you away from this shitty farm. "just.. wanted to be nice, 'n' helpful, y'know?" you tell him, rolling your shoulders in a shrug.

"but thank you," you add afterwards, a giggle bubbling from your lips. matt feels that familiar pang of warmth in his heart at the sight and sound of it.

fuck, he's done for.

he notices how quiet you are, seemingly nervous and thinking of something to say. a small smirk adorns his lips for a moment. he goes to speak. however you get to it first—"what's their name?" matt glances over and sees you're staring at his horse. a soft gleam sparkles in his eyes and he's more than happy to tell you whatever you please about his best girl.

the smile on his face grows wider at your interest, and he adjusts his cowboy hat, looking back at his mustang too. "mmh? 'er name's angel, my pretty little mustang, hm?" he lifts a hand to brush over her mane, quiet for a minute before he looks back over to you. "wanna brush her f'me, darlin'?" he asks, already rummaging in his saddle bag for the brush.

your eyes light up instantly, and you're practically finding the brush for him with how excited you are. "yeah, please?" your head nods fervently, fingers fiddling with the straps of your overalls as you eye the brush he comes up with.

there's a soft, breathy laugh that escapes him at your excitement at the prospect of brushing his angel. a soft hum comes from him and he nods his head. he swears he can feel his heart aching in his chest with every glance at you. you're too cute. he's gonna pick you up and never let you go, he swears.

"all yours, sugar," he tells you, smiling as he hands the brush to you. he holds the eye-contact, searching your gaze for a minute. "be real gentle, now," his words are soft, voice warm as he guides you over to angel. "she's a sweet girl, the sweetest, but she'll get antsy if you're too rough. she's a diva like that. got it, baby?"

honestly, you know exactly how to brush a horse since you do it nearly every damn day on your dad's farm, however because he sounds so sweet and is beinf so sweet, plus he called you baby? yeah, you'll pretend like you've bever seen a horse in your entire life. taking the brush, you nod your head, "got it," the feel of his hands on your arms makes a warmth flutter in your stomach.

this is his horse, so you're extra careful with angel, murmuring quietly, "you're really pretty," as if the horse could hear you. this makes matt's heart melt where he is, and his tongue darts out to lick over his bottom lip for a moment. matt leans back against the wooden fence, both hands grasping at the top as he watches you brush angel's sleek coat, his blue eyes fluttering over the two of you. his best girls.

"gettin' all loved up on her, ain't you, sweet girl?" he muses quietly, his words are light hearted, eyes tracking your every movement.

"i love her," you affirm, a smile playing on your lips once more as you look to angel again. she's whinnying and leaning towards your touch, content beneath the brush. when you look back at matt, you murmur, "she's adorable." matt nods in agreement, a soft sigh escaping him.

when you're done, you look the mustang over for a minute, glance back at matt, then back again. you're quiet again, thinking about what it'd be like to ride her, but you shake yourself out of your thoughts soon after. matt's brows cock for a moment. "she's the prettiest, ain't she?" he takes back the brush, putting it onto the fence by where he was before he steps up behind you. he can't help but place his hands on your hips.

he draws you back against him, squeezing at your hips for a moment with draws the line between appropriate and well, inappropriate, a lot closer. "you wanna ride her, don't you, sugar?" he feels you relax against him, almost immediately, and he meets your gaze for a minute. seeing you nod, a soft, amused smile settles on his lips again. "daddy doesn't let me ride our horses," a frown settles on his lips at your words.

another quiet hum rumbles in his chest when he feels you lean against him. matt's grip on your hips tightens, and he's resisting the urge to tug you back against him.

"course can, pretty girl," he says gently, tilting your head up for a minute. "daddy ain't here. i am. so, c'mere, now. let me help you up."

you're practically beaming when he says that. he's so damn sweet, you're realising. maybe you really are into cowboys. and really, you hadn't met many guys before, but regardless, he's so damn sweet. "daddy ain't here, you are," you agree, nodding your head. you can get with that logic.

god damn it, you're sweet.

"atta girl," he murmurs, coaxing you closer to angel. he had to admit he's having some very impure thoughts the moment he gets his hands on you, helping you up onto angel's saddle. he's quiet for a minute. you look so damn good up there, on his mustang. thank god for these cowboy pants because damn, he's straining a little here.

he wanted to settle you somewhere other than the saddle, definitely.

matt hops up too, sitting behind you. his chest comes flush against your back, the urge to run his hands over your body is palpable but he holds off. he sees the way you shiver a little, and he asks, "you doin' good, darlin'?" his words are soft. "not gettin' scared, are you?"

admittedly, yeah, you are. you feel so tall and high up, having never been at this height before. however the feel of angel beneath you, unmoving, not budging, makes you feel better. and matt's hands on you too. "ain't gonna let you fall, baby. i'll take good care of you."

"okay," you nod your head, leaning back against matt. feeling angel start to move beneath you, you grasp onto the reins. the mustang trots beneath the two of you, making some ground as she wanders about a bit. this makes you relax, it isn't as scary as you thought. besides, matt behind you, holding you tight, there's no way you'd get hurt.

matt could barely focus with your body against his, ass flush against his crotch and practically grinding back against him every minute or so. but he knew he had to be responsible and keep you safe, so he tries to calm the thoughts running through his head at that moment. thinking about how he wanted you bent over a hay bale beneath him wasn't exactly a good idea considering he had your safety to focus on. "you like it?"

you can feel matt's hands on your stomach, warm and gentle. his voice is low in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and your hands tightening on angel's reins. "feels good, pretty thing?" he murmurs, and you nod, though unsure whether he was talking about riding around on angel or his touch on your body. albeit, it's definitely both. "yeah," you say quietly to his words, glancing around the field idly for a moment. "daddy shoulda' let me ride horses earlier, this is amazin'."

the farm looked so pretty. the sunset glowing down onto the grass and the two of you, the fruit trees swaying idly and the faint sounds of the animals in the barn only adding to everything. plus, you had a cute cowboy helping you ride his horse. it's the most free you'd been in.. well, ever.

a shiver goes down his spine too at how relaxed you are, how gentle your words are. his mind's spinning, you're so damn soft. it's like you're meant to be against him, your body moulding perfectly into his. he keeps his hand firm against your stomach, before he speaks up again.

"you know.." that gets your attention and you look back at him, "i wanna show you somethin', pretty baby, you trust me?"

despite the fact that that you'd only talked to matt a little bit, this being your first ever proper meeting, you did trust him. perhaps you were naïve (you are) but you were enjoying his company and he radiated warmth. "uh, yeah, alrighty," might also be the warmth of his hands against you clouding your judgement but he does seem genuinely caring and compassionate. "i trust you."

a grin settles on his face the moment he sees your agreement, and he gently encases your hands on angel's reins, bringing his body closer against yours. that's it, you're doing so well.

"s'not far," he assures you, spurring angel forward so she leads the two of you away from the farm. you glance back almost immediately, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. it's getting late out, but you were sure matt'd bring you back before your daddy started to worry, so you settle against angel and continue riding.

you couldn't remember the last time you'd been outside the farm, to be completely honest. and you're sure matt can feel the excitement rolling off of you as angel leads you both further and further from the farm. the sun is setting, slowly but surely, purpley pinks and golden oranges glowing down on you. matt's eyes drift over you, how damn pretty you look under the sun's rays. he's so taken by you. finally, the two of you make it to a little clearing. though, in the centre is an old, worn down barn. how charming.

matt helps you off the horse, hands grasping at your waist as he sets you down onto the grass. "s'got character," you say, finding the nice things in the otherwise.. a tad bit run down exterior. maybe he's thinking too far ahead, he could be, but he could imagine you and him fixing up the place, making it your own one day. the two of you admire it for a moment, the charm and whimsy of it.

he keeps his hands on your waist despite the fact he doesn't need to, his hands smoothing over the denim of your overalls. his grip keeps you against his chest, and he's quiet, just taking you in. "right, c'mere," he says finally, urging you foreard with a nudge of your hips and coaxes you forward with a nod of his head towards the barn. "wanna show you somethin' inside, baby."

you glance up at him, brows cocking with curiosity, "what've you got in an ol' barn like this?" your eyes dart around for a moment, just looking at the surroundings. matt lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, because you're right, an old barn like this? not much going on. but he silently leads you inside, knowing you're completely unaware of his thoughts at that moment. or any of the moments prior.

it's basically pitch black inside despite the flickering rays of fading sunset peeking in from the top windows. you can't see much, if anything at all, eyes having not adjusted to the darkness yet. matt, however, can see perfectly fine at that moment. as a cowboy, he'd seen his fair share of the dark already.

the inside is basically bare, some old couches, hay bales, dirt on the floors and scattered wood, straw too. he can see your mind working in the darkness, and his hands on you are gentle, reassuring that you're fine. he guides you forward slowly, till you bump into a bench, and end up sat down. you try to meet his gaze in the darkness, however it's a little fruitless considering you can't see shit. "matt?" your words are soft, curious.

matt moves directly in front of you, pushing between your legs so that they spread out to accomodate him. now you can see him better, a sliver of light behind him making his figure clearer to your eyes.

"you trust me, sweetheart?" he asks once more, and of course, you nod once more too. his hands come and clasp yours, fingers interlacing with yours. bringing your hands up to his chest, he splays your fingers against him. matt's hot breath fans against your face. "of course you do," he murmurs quietly, smiling gently at the sight of you.

you watch as he slowly leads your hands over his body, hot, warm and firm beneath your hands. matt guides your hands down to his stomach, and you pause there, his blue eyes darting to yours. "keep going," his voice is low and quiet, "lower, honey."

now, your hands ease over him, over his hips to feel the plaid fabric of his shirt end and shift to the cold metal and hot leather of his belt. your fingers brush his belt buckle, and he looks at you once more. "undo it," he coos, "undo my belt."

"i've never.." you go to warn him, but he knows, he knows and he's okay with the fact that you've never done this with a guy before. as he watches you undo his belt, tugging it from the loops, a soft smile settles on his lips. your breathing picks up, chest rising up and down in quickened breaths. it's a good look on you, all breathless and needy.

"that too," he brushes his fingers over your face, touching your skin gently when he sees you undoing his jeans. as soon as he tells you to, you do it, and that makes heat warm his abdomen. matt strokes his thumb over your neck, head tilting to the side. "pull 'em down. there's a girl, that's it," he shivers a little, as do you, as you pull down his jeans, a breeze hitting his thighs.

"you like what you're seein', baby?" he stands above you, wearing his plaid shirt and boxers. matt grasps at your hands once more and he guides them over his bare thighs, a low grunt escaping him.

you had to admit he's good looking. so good looking. you may have been sheltered your entire life but you'd, of course, watched a hell of movies before. and he's like prince charming, the way he treats you, so gently and patiently. "uh-huh," you mutter, shifting your weight where you're sat. "you look.. good."

"just good?"

"uh, really good. like.. woah," that makes him laugh, and he tilts his head for a moment, as he guides your hands now to the waistband of his boxers. curling your fingers into the fabric, he mumbles, "god, you've got such soft hands."

"i do?" feels like you haven't done a single bit of hard labour in your life.

"every part of you's soft, sweet girl," that's true. he knows it, you know it. he squeezes your hands over his boxers, grunting quietly as your palm brushes over the front. he's straining against the fabric already, not wanting to stain them with a wet patch he knows is impending. "pull these down for me," he lets you tug at the elastic, groaning when you finally tug them down.

the way you obey literally instantly, without any hesitation, makes his blood throb. especially as his cock comes free from his boxers, aching and leaking from the tip. precum oozes from the head, and he watches the way your eyes linger on him. "you ever touch a man like that before, sweetheart?"

"no," you shake your head, not sure what to do with your hands now. you're trying so hard not to look down between his legs, but it's practically impossible. a soft smirk settles on his lips and he hums, "never?"

"never," you agree quietly, your chest rising and falling in more picked up breaths. matt's intimidating in a gentle, caring way, if that makes sense. he's so much of those things that it's intimidating.

"m'gonna teach you. y'alright with that, honey? we ain't gotta do nothin' y'don't wanna do."

that makes you relax a lot more and you consider it, "nothin' i don't wanna do?" you confirm, and when he nods, you offer your hand. you notice how his eyes gleam almost instantly, and the speed in which he takes your hand into his. "there y'go," he says quietly, wrapping your hand around his shaft slowly. it twitches in your hand a little, and he lets out a throaty swallow. "wrap that pretty hand around me, that's it."

"like this?" you wanna do this perfectly for him, perfect. your fingers wrap around him, all gentle. he watches you for a minute, before he speaks up again.

"y'know how to give a man pressure, darlin'?" you're quiet for a moment, before you have a spark of confidence and tighten your grip on him ever so slightly, and he lets out a quiet, strangled moan from his throat. "like that?" your head cocks to the side a little, and he nods his head once more.

"just like that," his voice comes out deeper than he means for it to. the moment you start to stroke him, his head tips back a little and his lips part to let out a low sound. "keep at it, baby, just like that.." matt mutters, fingers brushing over your cheek gently.

as you start getting a hang of things, your hand pumps his cock a little faster and more proper. eyes lifting to his, you smile gently, a little proud one. he was proud of you too, really damn proud. "does it.. feel good?" does it feel good? 'course it fucking does.

"you're a natural, sweet," matt agrees quietly, hips stuttering a little towards your warm hand to try chase the pleasure you're giving him. a quiet grunt escapes him and he shifts his weight, chest rising and falling in quickened breaths too. the fact you're so eager makes his heart race, makes even more precum ooze from the tip and onto your hand.

he's quiet for a minute, before he mutters, tone lilted with gentle curiosity. "you wanna try somethin' else, baby? think you'd be a real natural at that too, hm?" he murmurs, an amused sound escaping him.

"mhm?" you look up at him, biting your bottom lip for a moment before you release it as your lips part. you search his gaze, and matt smiles, coaxing you to look at him properly. he looks down at you through his lashes, "open y'mouth for me.. look at you, doin' so well." your lips part, mouth open as soon as he asked.

his thumb drops to your bottom lip, brushing over it. you're so damn pretty, the way he looks you up and down making your stomach flutter almost instantly. he steps infront of you, letting the head of his cock brush against your lips gently. matt wraps his hand around his base, giving himself a few languid strokes. "keep that pretty mouth nice and open," he tells you, words soft.

your eyes fall down to his cock infront of your mouth, feeling his warmth so close to you, and a soft moan escapes you. when your hot breath hits his tip, his hips stutter forward a little bit instinctively. "tongue out," he watches you stick your tongue out and he gives himself a few more strokes, a quiet grunt slipping past his lips. "such a good girl. so damn good."

you look so good down there, eyes soft and curious as they search his. matt bites his lip for a minute, slowly tapping his cock against your inviting tongue. damn it, you look so good. so, so fucking good. letting his free hand come up to the back of your head, he brings you closer to him. "gonna put myself in, alright? don't worry. remember, okay? breathe through your nose, relax your mouth."

he watches as you do what he'd said, relaxing your mouth as best as you can. you're absolutely wracked with nerves, but he's making it easier for you, not as bad as you thought it'd be. matt's dying to feel the inside of your warm mouth. he's quiet for a minute, "don't have to take all of me, alright? take as much as you can," before he starts easing himself into your mouth, a shuddering breath slipping past his lips.

employing what he'd told you immediately, you relax your throat and mouth, starting to breathe through your nose as opposed to your mouth. "that's it, shit, there we go, darlin', pretty, pretty mouth.." you gag the tiniest bit, and he pauses, "you alright? want me to stop?"

"no, no, no, no—" you mumble around his throbbing length, and he lets out a quiet laugh.

"alright, alright, i got you," he eases himself further, till you tell him to stop. "there we go, takin' practically all of me, hm? that's it, relax.. don't wanna hurt you," matt coos, rubbing your cheek for a minute. perfect. you look absolutely perfect with his cock down your throat, and he has half a mind not to start thrusting into your mouth, but he's promised to teach you gently.

when you go to speak, he shakes his head, "ah, ah, no, honey, just.. just feel it for me, make me feel good," he slowly eases himself back, "gonna start moving, okay? tell me if you wanna stop." with that, and your nod which inadvertently bobs your head on him, he starts moving his hips back and forth. the length of his cock disappears between your lips with every thrust, a ring of saliva slowly forming around fhe base of his shaft. "doing so good, got a perfect mouth. never done this before, baby? i'd beg to fuckin' differ, shit.."

any nerves you had prior practically dissipate with how good he's reacting to what you're doing to him. his grip onnthe back of your head tightens, and he's grunting with his every thrust and bob of your head, his own falling back a little. "face of 'n' angel but mouth of a sinner... my god.." he whimpers quietly, his lips parted with his breaths.

if he could keep at this, he would, he really would. he'd use your mouth to get over the edge a million times and he'd cum all over you—your face, your.. he's getting a bit ahead of himself now, he knows. so he gently taps your cheek and pulls himself out for a moment, a grunt escaping him.

you look worried, confused, as if he didn't like it or had some critique. "was i—was i doing it wrong?" you look so genuinely upset that he has to quickly console you that no, he's fine, great, amazing even, and he just wants your warm cunt instead of your mouth.

"no, no, you're doing perfectly," you really are, he feels so fucking good. he fists his cock a few times, a shiver running down his spine before he gestures to you. "take those overalls off for me, alright?" you're so eager to, you practically rip off the buttons. you slip your overalls off your body and you know for a fact that matt likes the look of you, the sight of your lacy little bra and dainty panties clinging to your hips.

"c'mere, come.. c'mere," matt growls, practically lifting you from where you're sat as he looks around for somewhere to bend you over. he finds a hay bale, in which he unbuttons his shirt and lays it out so you don't get scratched up all that much by the hay. in seconds, he's got you bent over.

"wait, wait—" your words cause matt to stop instantly, fingers releasing the elastic of your panties. his eyes dart to yours, and he looks worried that he'd hurt you or something. "be gentle, please?" he relaxes almost instantly, and he smiles, "i got you, baby. i'll be gentle."

his hand smoothes over your ass, squeezing at it for a minute before he mumbles, "can i take this pretty pair off you, baby?" he sees how you're quiet for a minute before you nod, and he grins as he eases them off your soft thighs. the sight of your pretty, puffy pussy makes his dick throb between his thighs once more, twitching. a string of your arousal clings to your panties from your hole, and that only serves to make him want you more.

"please," you say quietly, weakly. matt hums quietly, letting his fingers ghost over your folds. he swipes a finger through your wetness, seeing whether he'd need to loosen you up for him. he knew you'd be tight but you were wet enough he could probably push right in without much resistance, if any at all. "yeah? need me?" he coos quietly, his hand slowly wrapping back around his cock as he slowly rubs himself against your cunt. the quiet, wet sounds your core makes makes him groan.

"hold on tight, okay? real tight for me," you grasp at the hay as best as you can, feeling it scratch at your hands a little. but the pleasure he's about to give you outweighs any thoughts of getting your hands a little scuffed. the feel of his tip pushing into your wet hole has your knees buckling beneath you, and he slides his free hand underneath you to hold you up. "matt," you whine out, quietly, and he coos, "i know, i know. feels big, huh? you feel tight, honey, so tight 'n' warm."

he pushes in slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you anymore than you already are. matt's eyes flutter shut for a second along with your own, when he bottoms out, and he grasps at your hips tightly with an almost bruising grip. "can i—"

"yeah, please, oh.. please.." well, if you're that eager. he rocks his hips back before he pushes himself back into you. you gasp out, grip on the hay tightening. he's so big, having to practically bully his cock into your pussy, because you're so damn tight too. matt's quiet but still vocal, grunting, groaning and faintly whimpering with every thrust of his hips.

you hiccup softly, "so good, oh, oh god," your chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, tits shaking beneath your sweet little bra, spilling from the lace. this catches matt's eyes immediately, and he smirks, sliding his hand under your chest and squeezing to hold you up. he swallows thickly, "you like that? yeah? feels good, i know, baby, mmh, yeah.." he squeezes your chest again, before he slides his hand down your side to hold onto your hips and squeeze again.

matt's thrusts pick up, hips smacking against yours with the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the barn. the way you cry out, legs trembling, god, you're gorgeous. so, so damn pretty. "matt! matt, oh my god, mmh—ah.." he can tell you're getting closer from how the trembling in your legs picks up, and how your inner walls clench around him. he swallows hard, "you gonna come? yeah? all over me? that's it, give it to me, wanna feel it, fuck."

you're squealing, grasping tighter at the hay bale beneath you. his words only throw you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. he gasps shakily, feeling the way you squeeze around him so tight. he feels your release ooze down your thighs, and his too, and he growls shakily with each buck of his hips now. "gonna come, fuck, hold on, baby, hold on," he slowly pulls out of you, his fist flying to his cock as he pumps his hand quickly, whimpering under his breath with every stroke. "m'comin', shit, my god—that's it, yeah.." his abdomen tightens and eventually hot, white ropes of cum spurt out from his tip and coat your ass, dripping down your soft skin.

you look so pretty like that.

"you okay, baby? he asks gently, eyes meeting yours as he grasps at the hay bale, chest rising and falling in picked up breaths. when you glance up at him, all wide eyed and hazy, nodding, he knows you're okay, and wanting more. "feel so good," you admit, and you glance away for a second before meeting his gaze again. "want.. more."

"more?" matt's eyes rake over you for a second, and he nods, a hum escaping him. "turn around, i got you, honey. always got you."

taglist ／ ⋆ ۪ @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @pettydollie, @dayzeandhaze, @dqzzlingsummer, @slut4chriss, @pillwebb, @https--roman, @amaris444, @yutafairy, @theognatster, @v33angel, @fxlklorelover, @mattsturnswhore, @sturncakez, @flouvela, @mattsdolll, @ifwdominicfike, @httqvi, @imyesterdaysproblem (some tags. didnt work my bad pooks)

[sleepynoons]

jing yuan x f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: nudity, suggestive content

notes: pls lmk if i'm missing any tags or warnings. anyway, nothing explicit this time, experimenting more w/ pieces that heavily focus on sexual tension + build-up. anyway x2, not sure how to describe the setting of this piece. still uses some hrs concepts like aeons. jing yuan is rich, the reader is his maid, and both use more formal language. this was a fun exercise!

THERE ARE a lot of rumors surrounding your master. you hear them when you go grocery shopping, visit the tailor, pick up the dry cleaning, drop off lunches at the front desk on days that he’s busy. some of them are about you – who are you? his wife? mistress? there’s no way you’re just a friend, right?

you’re trained to maintain a stoic facade, but inside, you can’t help but be entertained. you are none of those things, and one can only dream of sharing such a bond with him. you’re content with simply being his maid – you mustn’t tread closer.

on a wooden tray, you neatly arrange a cup of chamomile tea, another cup of warm, honeyed milk, and a folded newspaper of today’s news. before you leave the kitchen, though, you make sure to drop a few treats into a feeding bowl and rub at mimi’s stomach, your master’s beloved dog.

“your father needs some time alone,” you say to the animal. seemingly able to understand your words, mimi’s ears droop at a slight angle and she licks at your fingertips, seeking consolation. “he’ll be out soon, i promise.”

you get back up, wash your hands, and pick up the tray, heading over to your master’s bathroom.

from the hallway, you can hear the sound of water splashing and sloshing. if you strain a bit more, you can arguably make out some humming, nonsensical and haphazard in melody. when you reach the door, you hear submerging, and you know you’re right on time.

you knock on the door twice. “master, may i come in?”

you hear a faint noise of affirmation, no doubt muffled by the wall, and carefully enter without spilling the contents of the tray.

you’re greeted with a dazzling smile and glimmering droplets of soap and water slipping down naked skin.

your master greets you, fine smile lines outlining his rosy lips and delicate nose. “how many times have i told you that just my name will suffice?”

“master jing yuan,” you say as you place his drinks and paper on a designated drawer beside the tub, “how many times have i told you that you shouldn’t ask me to join you when you’re in the bathroom?”

“but who else can help me with my unruly mane of silver?” he pouts, tone feigning innocence.

“your hair isn’t unruly.”

“did you not call it that last time?”

you click your tongue. your master chuckles and turns away from you to face the other end of the tub. you grab a stool, hand him his newspaper, and take your place behind him. with a brush in hand, you unravel the red ribbon tying his hair and, with quick, gentle strokes, run the brush through the thick layers. you didn’t mean to call his hair unruly before, but you think there’s quite a bit of truth to it anyway. you also note that his hair has gotten quite long.

“master jing yuan, perhaps it’s time for a trim?” you suggest.

your master hums and leans back so that your hands can reach the crown of his head. “you are right. i shall leave it to you, then?”

shaking your head, you respond, “you really ought to get it done at a professional salon. i can only do so much.”

“you are a woman of many talents. i am sure you will do just fine,” he reassures. you huff in protest.

as your master’s only taking a soak today, you plait his hair into a thick braid before tying it up into a bun. you hand him his cup of tea, which is no longer scalding, and stand up to leave.

“oh!” he suddenly exclaims. “i seem to have forgotten my bathrobe.” he looks up at you expectantly, and you nod in understanding.

“i’ll go grab it. i’ll be right back.” you bow quickly before closing the door behind you on the way out and heading towards the laundry room.

you take your time. really, you needed an excuse to leave the bathroom. you’re glad that your master’s such a big fan of bath bombs, or else you’d see everything… you pat harshly at your warm cheeks to break free from your reverie. don’t tread any closer. you’re behaving like a schoolgirl experiencing her first love, and you can only groan internally at yourself. but you can’t blame yourself either – anyone would fall in love with your master if they know him the way you do. he’s so irresistible, and having been his maid for so long has only enabled you to witness more of his charisma and charm. you sigh, sitting on the floor in front of the dryer as you wait for it to de-wrinkle your master’s robe.

you return ten minutes later, both for your own wellbeing and to also give your master some time to himself.

“master jing yuan, i’m back. may i come in?”

instead of a reply, though, the door cracks open, and your master, wearing nothing but a towel tied loosely around his hips, appears before you. you yelp and rush to cover your eyes. he simply laughs at your antics before grabbing you by the arm and leading you into the bathroom.

“what – what are you –“

“i hurt my arm today, so i will need your help putting my robe on. it is quite heavy, after all.”

you don’t know where to look. you certainly can’t look at the bathroom mirror that covers the top-half of one wall or the marble on the other that shines and reflects so clearly. you opt to close your eyes and hold the robe up by the collar.

“this is hardly appropriate,” you mutter, embarrassment and nervousness coloring your tone. as a result, you try to distract yourself with another subject. “besides, couldn’t you have told me earlier? i would’ve prepared something in advance had i known.”

“i just noticed the bruise as well. seems i was a little careless today.” he then chuckles – at himself or you, you’re not sure.

you remark, “you? careless? that hardly goes together.”

your master lets you know that he’s put on his sleeves, so you step away, eyes still closed. 

immediately, he hums with obvious disapproval. “hm? why are you backing away?”

you sputter, “m-master jing yuan, i should not be here! if you could just – i don’t know – turn around or something, i can –“

“i have turned around.”

you sigh in relief, happy that he’s obedient for once. your master is often relentless in his teasing and tricks, and you’re grateful that he’s granting you mercy in this moment. so you open your eyes, ready to find your way to the door –

your master is standing dangerously close, so that you’re eye-to-eye with him. from this view, you can also see that his chest is barely covered, knot slowly slipping undone.

“master!” you gasp. the proximity, the surprise, the challenging look in his eyes – they’re all driving you mad.

he clears his throat. “jing yuan.”

“master jing yuan.”

“jing yuan.”

“oh, for aeons’ sake, jing yuan! you’re not wearing your robe properly!”

jing yuan gloats. he then says in a low, low whisper, “my hands have cramped up. can you do it for me instead?” he speaks directly into your ears, and you want to scream.

shaking, you stretch out your trembling hands and take the ends of the belt. you can feel jing yuan’s hot breaths fanning your cheek, and you can even smell the faint trace of lavender from the bath bomb. your fingers are too clumsy, though, and you fail multiple times in properly tying the belt. after a few more fruitless attempts, jing yuan reaches down, softly grabbing your hands, and gently guides them.

“and… like this,” he breathes. even when you’ve secured the knot, though, he doesn’t let go.

don’t tread any closer. “j-jing yuan,” you whimper. “please…”

his hands inch up, gliding from your palms to your forearms to your elbows. he does it so slowly, so seductively, so intentionally. he tugs you impossibly a little closer, and now you can feel the heat of his chest through your uniform. then, jing yuan rests his head on your shoulders, and his lips ghost the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver and shudder at the sensation. the two of you just stand there, him taking deep breaths, you holding yours.

finally, after a few minutes, jing yuan breaks the silence. “i can no longer employ you, my dearest.”

you feel faint. you’re never escaping the gossip now.

[moraxsthrone]

WHEN HE EATS YOU OUT FIRST THING IN THE MORNING...

ft. diluc, itto, kaeya, thoma, zhongli (x f!reader)

warnings: nsfw. mdni. somnophilia (itto, zhongli). mention: piss (thoma).

⋆｡°✩ DILUC —

rouses you with sweet, loving kisses on your shoulder. your eyes are still closed when a sleepy smile spreads across your face. you stretch, looping your arm around the back of diluc's neck, his soft, crimson hair tickling your sensitive skin. he traces his fingers down along the inside of your arm towards your chest, making you giggle with his titillating touch. you can hear his smirk when he hums next to your ear, his voice deep and heavy with the weight of sleep. "good morning, beautiful," he drawls. "mm~good morning, my love," you reply. his wandering hand reaches your breast, earning himself one of your sighs when your nipple is carded between his calloused fingers, gently squeezing your soft flesh. he moves to roll you onto your back as he lowers himself between your legs, taking your other nipple inside his scorching mouth before leaving a trail of kisses along your naked belly. you relax, your eyes sliding closed and your pretty fingers finding purchase in his messy hair as he blazes a path all the way down to your core. he kisses his way around your dewy lips before teasing your clit with kitten licks. your fingers curl in his wild mane when his dainty tongue strokes quicken, flicking with increasing fury as he begins to drag his leaking cock against the sheets beneath him, staining them with his precum.

⋆｡°✩ ITTO —

you awake to the unmistakable poke of your beloved oni's morning wood against your naked thigh. your head is on his barrel of a chest, your leg propped over his. he doesn't even know though bc he's still out cold. some of his cum is still leaking out of you from a few hours ago, but with the way he turns you out, you're ready for more. he's a hard sleeper though. you know the traditional methods of trying to wake someone up are not going to work with him, but you go through the motions anyway just so you can say you did. dragging your fingers up and down his huge arm, running your fingers through his thick, white hair, kissing his sexy neck, squeezing his horns, whispering sugary sweet and naughty things in his ear...nothing works. it's time to get creative. you know how much he loves it when you sit on his face so you get to your knees and position your thighs on either side of his head. you dip your finger inside your wet pussy and smear your slick on his lips. finally he grunts and you have to fight back the laughter when he starts sniffing the air. "itto?" he hums, but doesn't open his eyes. "itto, baby..." you coo, "i brought you breakfast in bed." after a dramatic yawn, he takes a deep breath through his nose again, smiles, and in his deep morning voice he says, "mmm...smells delicious, babe." he wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls them further apart for him. "i'm fucking famished," he growls, latching onto your clit. soon his hands are cupping your ass cheeks, guiding you back and forth, making you ride his face, his tongue deep inside your cunt as his nose nudges your tight bundle of nerves, wearing you down like a feed bag. he's a sloppy eater but you're not complaining. the way he opens his mouth wide and sucks your whole pussy while dipping his tongue into your semen-flavored hole has your eyes crossing.

⋆｡°✩ KAEYA —

our cryo casanova is a goddamn superfreak. you're both still hazy with sleep when he gets on his knees behind you. he hooks his hands around your hips and pulls your ass up in the air until you're presenting for him. your arms are still hugging the pillow that your head rests on as he leans over your body, his arms caging you in from above when you feel his hard cock slap your clit a few times. "keep your ass in the air for me, lover." his sultry voice has an edge to it that you'll only hear right after he's risen, and it goes straight to your needy core. "i wanna taste you before i ruin you for the day." you shiver as his cool lips travel down your spine. he massages your soft ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading them, forcing them apart to expose your winking pussy. "kaeya...baby..." you're pushing your ass higher into the air, back arching, hips rocking, practically begging to feel his tongue, his lips, his anything. finally, you feel the tickle of his hair on your skin, then the merciful drag of his tongue over your dripping slit. you moan loudly into your pillow, gritting your teeth as kaeya flicks his silver tongue over your pink bud a few times before sucking it in hard, pulsing his tongue against it like he's trying to drink you down to the last drop. but he settles for just a taste before he's back on his knees, straddling the backs of your thighs to sink his purple, weeping tip inside you.

⋆｡°✩ THOMA —

THIS SWEET BOI IS A PLEASURE DOM FIGHT ME. you basically wake up making out with this boy. one of your hands is playing with his dark pink nipple while the other is wrapped around his pretty cock, stroking him slowly against your precum-coated thigh. he hasn't even taken his morning piss yet when you start to lower yourself to taste the sticky, salty essence of his cock. but this pyro-wielding waifu stops you, kisses you, his hand framing your ear before gently pushing you back down on the bed. "let me take care of you first, milady..." you're so weak for this precious pussy-pleasing boy you go along with every word he says. "your pussy always tastes so good in the morning..." the word pussy sounds naughtier when it rides on thoma's sweet, innocent morning voice. his fingers drag their way along the column of your neck, down between your cleavage, all the way to your pretty kitty where he spreads your pink petals apart. his soft lips ghost over your hard pearl, your back arching off the bed when you grab a fistful of his blond hair, feeling his hot breath when he whimpers quietly against your clit.

⋆｡°✩ ZHONGLI —

almost always wakes before you. this morning is no exception. his erection is full, tenting his silk pajama pants as he pulls up behind you. he doesn't want to disturb your slumber; he knows how tired you've been lately what with planning the wedding and all. by the same token, however, he can smell your sex. you must be ovulating, he correctly deduces. your earthy scent is so full-bodied he can taste it on the back of his tongue and my me, he thinks, is it delectable. before he's even decided what to do, his hand moves on its own. he slips his golden hand beneath the thin waistband of your undergarments, dipping his graceful middle finger between your moist folds. you shift a little, but he removes his hand, bringing it to his mouth to taste you. he wraps his lips around his finger and sucks, tongue swirling around his digit to collect as much of your flavor as he can. warm precum leaks from his cock as he moans lowly around his own finger. it nearly drives him to madness and he can't help himself. well, he could, but he's willing to suffer the consequences in exchange for devouring the delicacy that's hiding between your legs. your eyes flutter open to find yourself on your back, your legs spread, zhongli's hair tickling your inner thighs and his long, radiant fingers curling inside you, glowing and fucking your gushy walls as amber eyes burn into yours through his long bangs. his flattened tongue drags over your swollen clit in quick pulses while he basks in your sobs of just how good he feels to you. "fuck, zhongli~~hmnn~~yeah, eat my pussy just like that..." girl, when the geo daddy moans with a mouthful of your pussy, the vibration of his deep voice on your clit hits the richter scale and you come crumbling into his hot mouth.

m.list

i hope you found this as "inspirational" to read as i did to write. i give kitheth to 18+ rebloggers and commenters and followers and likers and readers who otherwise enjoy my naughty musings. mwah!

[circinuus]

guys, I need my husband jing yuan to come home to our shared house, actually.

Thinking about sitting in front of the vanity, ready to rest for the night, already clad in only your inner robe. Hair flowing freely, with hair oil in hand and a flower-carved traditional comb in another—a rare gift your beloved got you in one of your anniversary celebrations, amongst other trinkets from your courtship gifts and whatnots eons ago.

While you reminisce sweet youth and the love both bittersweet and cloying throughout the years you went through together, your husband comes home, weary and with heavy steps. He smiles at you, tiredness laced in the curve of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless, "A-(Name), you're still awake?" You give him an exasperated smile, standing up with your hair loose, then you let him fall into your warm embrace. "Welcome home, husband." You smell like sandalwood and fresh laundry, and he thinks he was a madman for being able to disentangle himself from you just that morning.

The Arbiter General is a sleepy, oversized cat. He nuzzles to your neck and hair, and you let him. He takes a deep breath, savoring your presence as you silently chuckle, reaching up to undo his hair tie. It is somewhat of a popular topic gossip like to indulge in. General Jing Yuan is a romanticist, and the rumors ring true. By no means he is a hard headed traditionalist, but in his years, only his parents and you have ever meddled with his hair and the ribbon he uses to tie it up. Pale, fluffy mane flows down through your fingers, among the strands also the red ribbon now loose in your hand. You step back to sit yourself on the edge of the bed. Your husband hums, content on resting his head on the crook of your shoulder—such scoundrel. A scoundrel and a shrewd man that you've fallen deeply in love with. His hands circle around your waist, pads pressing against your soft skin on top of the thin material, tracing your spine. "Husband," your voice is a soft warning, but you both know it was uttered in a half hearted sentiment. Jing Yuan chuckles, breath against your neck, "Yes, my heart?" and just like that, you lost. With a huff, carding your fingers through his hair.

It must've been a long day, you think. You find solace in his slow breathing, the steady and calming heartbeat that is pressed against yours, singing a synchronized tune with your own. Careful hands lather themselves in hair oil, gently straightening the unruly silver mane that is your husband's as he hums and purrs in your hold. You've always thought them beautiful. Bashful and longing gazes in your youthful eyes, wondering how it feels to run your hand through, if they are soft and thick, or delicate and easy to comb through. How it feels to hear his heartbeat or hold him in your arms like there are only you and him in this world. How it feels to have those piercing golden irises gaze at you with affection and fond endearment. Unbeknownst that he too, longs for that which mirrors your warm affection when his gaze lands on you.

Jing Yuan tightens his arms around your waist, loose hair now cascading down, smelling of sandalwood. "Husband," you try call him, voice soft but beckoning.

"I've combed your hair. you need to change and clean, then rest." He only gives a grunt in a mix of slow breathings, pressed to your chest.

"Husband, A-Yuan."

His reply comes in the form of a small snore. arms still persistently locking you in place.

So like always, you simply smile exasperatedly, silently discarding the heavy metal ornaments and belts, shoes on the floor. And when he settles among the soft silk sheets with you embracing him, his hand splayed on your stomach and face against your collarbone, you press a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Good night, baobei."

extras. I don't speak chinese so I'm grasping air but ughfgfhhhh so I've been obsessed with wuxia lately and the amount of domestic married shenanigans in that genre is insane. but anyways, I think chinese terms of endearment are neat and I also think people from xianzhou should use it a lot. they have to.

you call your husband "husband" or "my husband" or general jing yuan in public, a-yuan in the company of close friends or with him alone, and baobei, when it's really really really just the two of you or you're in your shared house, and you both are being disgustingly romantiromant

jing yuan is more disgusting (affectionate) and will find any chance to call you his wife/husband. will use "wife/husband" and "my wife/my husband" in public. I think he's the type to really like using "I think my wife/husband is waiting for me." and "I can't let my wife/husband wait any longer." to escape matters that are not important but without sounding rude. then he'd seek you out and mayhaps nap just a bit on your lap, with your hands carding through his hair, just a while.

I think he'd also call you cheesy names like "my little sparrow" or "my peony" or "my loved one/àirén"---in which that usage happens to only be restricted for married couples. even if fu xuan was there and you happen to visit or cross paths. look he's just really proud of his spouse.

when addressing you normally among friends or informal settings, he might use a-(name) like you do to him

in a romantic mood or in private, he'd use something more disgusting unironically like my heart/my everything

I need to marry him :(

footnotes.

a-yuan/a-(name) [1]: It can be used for friends, family, or close acquaintances. For example, "A-ying" (阿瑶) is a friendly way for Jiang Yanli to address her younger brother figure Wei Ying (from the series Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation), indicating a bond between them. From what I understand, this can apply for lovers too

baobei [2]: Literally means “treasure” or “precious thing,” and by calling your other half 宝贝, it shows just how much they mean to you and that you value them. In terms of tone and cultural context, it's a bit more cutesy and is close to the English equivalent “baby” or “sweetie."

[debbiecolon]

My second tarnished oc, Rem. He usually wears the nightmaiden twin crown, but I wanted to draw his face unobstructed. His lore is super meaty and I'm quite happy with it!

Rem is a descendant of the Nox, people of the Eternal Cities. He was raised in Sellia, well versed in Night sorceries and taught melee combat by his 'sisters', Nightmaidens who warden over the town. His days are spent rigorously training his body and mind, honing himself into a warrior capable of subduing the most formidable of foes. Easily identified by both his silvery skin and hair, Rem appears more Silver Tear than anything, yet his golden eyes speak of his heritage, which he is incredibly proud of. And it is perhaps because of his heritage that Rem holds very little love for the Two Fingers and the Golden Order.

Rem had been fortunate enough to meet General Radahn in his youth, and had been privy to the demigod studying gravity sorceries. He grows to admire the flame haired demigod and leaves the Sellian territories for the first time when he offers his services to the General, as both sorcerer and swordsman. He stood among the Red Mane soldiers in battle, dressed in the silks of the Nox, looking elegant as a dancer yet fighting with all the ferocity of a beast. His end is met like many others in the Caelid wilds: witness to the scarlet flower bloom, particles of rot saturating the sky, clogging the beauty of the stars.

He wakes after centuries, called back from a peaceful void to return to the Lands Between. His memories are muddled, mostly lost, but through adventuring he remembers himself, for better or worse. He remembers that wretched flower, and he seeks a power strong enough to oppose it.

Rem is an extremely quiet and emotionally guarded tarnished who borders on selectively mute, speaking little more than he has to. He makes very few connections but is not unwilling to cooperate with his fellows, seeing such actions as a great way to garner much needed knowledge. He gauges everything like a threat but closely safeguards those who win his trust and affection, albeit from the shadows.

Beneath his guarded exterior is a deep longing to return to a home no longer there. Caelid is a fetid wasteland and nightmarish shadow of what it once was, and it is the only time that he openly expresses deep pain upon seeing the remains of a land he once loved so dearly. It hurts more than he can bear to know that Radahn lives as Caelid does--as a shell of his former self. He does not hesitate to participate in the Festival, seeing it as a final act of kindness for his beloved General. It is a hard fought battle, but Rem leaves with Radahn's blades as his trophy, swearing to wield the colossal weapons in battle.

Though Rem was raised in a town of sorcery and has proficiency with night magics, his greatest strength comes from physical prowess. He wields all manner of great swords and colossal blades, overwhelming his foes with sheer strength and relentlessness. He embodies duality, using stealth, life sapping mist and poison to turn the tide of what could have been a heavily skewed battle. He does not see underhanded tactics as something to frown upon. After all, combat (and life) does not play fair. Aside from sorceries, Rem has studied incantations on a surface level, enough to know hos to cast a poisonous mist or mend his injuries.

Rem's loyalty to the red haired demigod is akin to a love that is all consuming. It was a love that felt unrequited, but his unwavering belief and devotion to honing himself into the perfect weapon caught the interest of the towering Radahn. They seemed an unconventional pair, but they both bonded quite easily through combat and a shared love of animals. Leonard, Radahn's steed, received many a rowa berry and nose pats from Rem.

He felt as though he lost Radahn twice over. Once, against the one-armed valkyrie and her scarlet rot, and a second time at his own hand. Though it was a mercy, to grant his beloved demigod a warrior's end, a part of him died again with the General. The loss is an ever present ache that leads to the nihilistic belief that nothing in the Lands is worth salvaging.

The pain of loss and his keen awareness of the loss of many others drives Rem down the path of becoming the Lord of the Frenzied Flame. He does so, not to spare Melina from a fiery end, but to bring an end to it all, to be the Lord of the lost and the broken. To put to rest all that distinguishes and divides, hoping that perhaps the flames will consume him too.

[azurevi]

i wanna hold the hand inside you

characters: leona, vil, malleus

summary: where you don’t have pretty hands, but your beloved likes to hold them anyways

note: sometimes i feel insecure about how my hands look, what with the seemingly permanent chipped and uneven nails, hangnails and writer’s callus (as if it’s not totally my fault-), but it’s nice to imagine that there’s someone who doesn’t mind them :)

Leona

You have callused hands? So does Leona. He’s often too lazy to take care of them, even when the harsh winter makes the skin a bit dry. All the time spent playing Magift doesn’t make the situation better.

He also has scars here and there, marks that persist despite the passage of time. Some were careless mishaps, some bore memories of his younger, desperate self who bothered enough to strive to impress those around him.

Not to mention his unique magic is literally turning things into sand. Even with gloves on, his palms still gets cracked and scaled after using it.

And yet, you don’t seem to mind at all as you pick up his hand in public, melting whenever he cupped your face between his palms, reacting closely to his fingers’ mindless touches.

Similarly, he doesn’t care that your hands aren’t smooth and perfect and unblemished. All he knows is that they’re the same hands you use to run through his mane when he’s fast asleep in your lap. They’re the same hands you use to trace his features when he refuses to wake in the morning, the same hands that settle in the dip of his waist as you stir in your sleep. Most important, they’re the hands that love every part of him, both outside and inside.

In return, he adores your hands down to the very detail, from the jagged hangnails to the crooked contours of your fingers. They’re all part of who you are, and he finds solace in the knowledge that you are able to love each others’ imperfections.

Vil

Your hands are among the first things he notices about you— he’s always believed that the condition of one’s hand speaks a lot about their character.

He attempts to take care of them for you, especially if you have bad habits like biting on your nails. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, just that it’s healthier to keep them clean and manicured.

Even if you have hobbies or work that compromise his efforts, he doesn’t give up. He takes time out of his own skincare routine to massage your hands, applying some of his most of his effective hand creams and lotions, making you join him when he exfoliates his hands every week.

When winter arrives, he stuffs a moisturizer into your pocket everywhere you go. It’s the same one that he uses, so you often find your palms smelling like him even he’s away.

And don’t try to dismiss his efforts, he’ll be irritated. All he wants is to look after you, especially if your hands are something you’re insecure about. It’s his way of showing how much he loves you.

Malleus

Malleus loves your hands.

He loves your hands when they’re working, fingers flicking the edges of notes before turning them, grabbing the neck of a potion jar, toying with a pen when you’re deep in thought.

He loves your hands when they’re having fun, gripping the end of the broom as you soar into the sky, clapping when you’re enjoying a good show, placed against your lips as you watch something in awe.

He loves your hands for their mysteries, the story between each scratch, the worry that causes the uneven nails, the culprit behind the spiky skin sticking out of your thumb.

But most of all, he loves your hands when they’re loving him. He loves them when you reach out for him unconsciously, fingers tightening around his for reassurance. He loves them when you pull his face into a kiss. He loves them when you blow him a kiss from a distance. He loves them on his shoulders when you slow dance with him.

He is captivated by your hands for all they are, and it doesn’t matter how they look. They’re to him the world, the galaxy, the infinity beyond it, and in them he finds security, comfort, and home.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Good morning headmage

I was wondering if you and the other teachers went to the museum with your students this year to celebrate its 100th anniversary ?

If so what did you like there , do you have a favorite artwork ?

Have you been there before 👀?

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

"Why, of course we teachers accompanied our students to the Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art. It would be highly irresponsible of us to allow children to travel to a foreign land without chaperones!”

Crowley perked with pride. Prestige—the acknowledgement of it—tended to have that effect on him, pompous man that he was.

"Not to mention... It's an honor for us to be invited to this centennial celebration! This is a wonderful opportunity for us teachers to appreciate art alongside our young pupils—though I myself have already visited numerous times. Ah, but that is what a long lifespan and a deep respect for history does… Sharpens the mind and the spirit!”

Somehow he ended up circling around and feeding his own ego again.

You walked alongside him, tactfully staying silent and letting the headmaster ramble.

Famous faces passed by, relics of the past unearthed. Stories, centuries in the making. History coming to life around you.

Click, clack, click.

Crowley’s polished shoes and cane alternated, echoing sharply in the gallery.

“This solemn, almost reverent atmosphere is rather pleasing. It grants one the space and time to properly admire and reflect on the artwork on display.”

He raised a hand, his golden claw-shaped rings upon each finger shining under the museum’s lights. Crowley gestured to the paintings that lined the closest wall. You followed where he led your gaze.

Platinum frames, seven in total. Each held an illustration of a familiar figure—you recognized them from the stone statues lining Main Street.

“I find myself gravitating toward the classics. Perhaps I am sentimental, fufu. My bias is clear.”

The Queen of Hearts.

She looked on from up high, posed with a gavel behind a banister and flanked by card soldiers. Her face was kind and rounded, but her expression was stern. Hands folded in her lap and her hammer raised to deliver justice, she was the picture of dignified grace.

The King of Beasts.

He reclined in a dark cave, bones scattered around him. The King stood out from the others of his kind--body lanky, a scar knitting one eye, mane a deep black, and with an unmatched feline poise. He toyed with a skull in one paw, his mouth twisted into a contemplative smirk.

The Sea Witch.

She danced, tentacles curling, in an anemone garden, lilac arms outstretched to cuddle her beloved pets: two moray eels that adorned her arms like a living boa. Pinkish light spilled onto them, emanating from her bubbling cauldron. Another potion brewing to fulfill some poor, unfortunate soul's wish.

The Sorcerer of the Sands.

A thin man with a long face and a goatee pieced together a golden scarab, its light piercing the starry night. Particles of sand and glittering magic kicked up, scattering across his black and red robes. The wings of the scarab, flickering rapidly--as if about to take flight.

The Beautiful Queen.

She triumphantly held up a goblet of bubbling liquid, her radiant face reflected in it. High cheek bones, skin smooth as china, full lips, long lashes, a gown that clung to her hourglass figure. Her beauty was every bit as deadly as the poison in the glass.

The King of the Underworld.

He beamed in the painting, showing sharp teeth. Various tabletop games surrounded him, and he seemed to take great joy in maneuvering a chess piece across a board. No opponent was in view--the man was a lone player.

The Thorn Fairy.

She loomed in her spiked throne, her calm face cut severe by the gathering shadows and green candlelight. Briar crept around the tattered hem of her cloak, waiting for her next command. One word, and you felt as though they would come to life and rush at you.

The Great Seven together dominated the hallowed halls of the museum. In awe of them, you felt yourself shrink back. If was as though your body instinctively knew to kneel in the presence of such raw power.

Crowley, too, quietly bowed his head to the Seven. He held his top hat to his chest, his dark lips pursed into a serene smile.

"What visionaries! We must all strive to the same heights as they."

[take-taker-taken]

Hi! I hope you're having a lovely day/night wherever you are in the world. I'm new here and saw you take requests. Please bare with me, I've never done this before lol. I was wondering if I could have a ministry Taker x fem gothic plus size reader fic? As for smut or fluff I'll honestly let you decide, I'm good with either. I just love ministry taker so much. He has me in a chokehold!

Hello, lovely Anon! I do hope you’re still around and didn’t give up hope of me ever answering you! Here is your beloved Ministry!Taker fic… (link to Part Two is at the end).

Untitled

You carefully apply liner to your eyes, the finishing touch to the smoky look. You know that he’s watching you intently - he always does, to the point where you wonder if he enjoys the ritual of make up as much as you do. You stain your lips a deep, dark red and then sit back and admire the finished product in the mirror.

“You’re beautiful.” The simple statement rumbles from him and you turn to look at where he sits on one of his thrones. This one is slightly smaller than the grand one in the great hall but it’s no less majestic for that. He smiles - an intriguing combination of pleasure, danger and barely-disguised lust - and strokes finger and thumb thoughtfully over his goatee beard. “Come here and sit with me.”

You stand up and turn with a swirl of your black velvet skirt as you smooth down your top, which is cleverly fashioned after his cloak with a deep hood that would hide your face if you used it. The sleeves flare out at the ends, adding to the flowing, floaty quality of the outfit. You slowly walk over to him with a confidence that a few months ago didn’t exist - he used to terrify you and when he plucked you from obscurity to be by his side, you’d barely been able to mutter two words to him. He had chosen, though, and you were to be his. He had seen something in you and so had persevered, not allowing you to be away from him for too long at a time, determined that you would not only grow accustomed to him but that you would learn to find pleasure in his company.

He extends a hand to you as you approach and unafraid, you reach out and take it as you step up on to the platform that the throne sits upon. You know that when he bids you to ‘come and sit with’ him then he wants you close and sure enough, he pulls you in and you hop up on to his lap. As huge as he is, you had been so self conscious the first few times; worried that you were not a waif-like figure. Such things are no longer a concern and you smile and lean against him as one powerful arm encircles you, his fingers stroking up and down your waist.

Your head tucks neatly under his chin if you press yourself fully to him, but you find that you’re feeling playful tonight. His immediate attention has been taken by the book that rests on the arm of the throne and so you slowly slide your hand up the centre of his back. He doesn’t react until you reach his neck, your fingers seeking the bare skin that hides beneath his mane of dark hair. You scratch the nape gently and he rolls his shoulders with a low, rumbling sigh of satisfaction. Encouraged, you turn your face up and deliver a row of small kisses to his jawline before reaching up to give a soft tug on his beard. He turns at that and you look up into stormy green eyes before giving a cheeky giggle, but your hand doesn’t relinquish its grip on the facial hair.

“Something ails you, my princess?” His voice is never particularly animated but you don’t find that scary anymore.

“You called me all the way over here, but seems you’re only interested in that book.”

His arm tightens around your ample waist while his other hand reaches up and covers over the one of yours that holds his beard. “Wanting some attention are you, little one?”

You nod as you give him a playful pout and a mildly pleading look. He guides your hand from his chin and then raises it to his lips, kissing it softly as you look on. He lets go of your hand and then nudges your chin up with one long finger. He kisses along your jaw just as you did to him and you close your eyes, enjoying the feel of the bristly hair against your skin.

“Such a stunning gothic beauty,” He murmurs into your ear, the timbre making you shiver pleasantly. “I knew from the moment I saw you that there was fire inside you.” He caresses the back of your neck with the tips of his fingers while his other hand seeks out the hem of your top so that he can touch bare skin. “It just needed someone to nurture that glow…” As his fingers stroke across your stomach you think back to the beginning of your time with him, when you used to try and move away from touches like this, fearing that there was ‘too much’ flesh there. Now you have no such worries and wriggle around, turning yourself in his lap as his kiss returns, to your mouth this time.

He teases your lips apart and you gladly open your mouth to allow his long tongue entry and place your hand on the side of his face. There’s still a part of you that can’t quite believe that you’re allowed to touch him, to kiss him and to lay with him. He chose you to be at his side; he chose to love you. You open your eyes and whimper slightly with disappointment as he draws back from the kiss and there’s amusement in his gaze.

“You’re wanting more, princess?”

“Always,” you reply, your thumb stroking his cheek.

“I rather fear that I shouldn’t.” He says teasingly. “You only just finished your make up and if I take you to bed then it’ll surely be ruined.”

You smile up at him and tug gently on his beard again. “I don’t mind.”

He growls at your latest assault on his facial hair and snaps his teeth playfully at your hand before standing up with you in his arms. You giggle delightedly as you know that nobody else sees this side to him.

“Very well, girl - you leave me no choice but to teach you some consequences for your teasing.” He dips his head and kisses you again before drawing back to nip at your lips with his teeth. You reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck and let your head fall against his chest as he carries you from the room while muttering dark, lustful promises.

TTT

Next

[furba]

Before / ✨After✨

My little dude is beautiful, now! 🥳

His fur is soft and his crust is (mostly) gone.. along with his eyelashes, they were collateral in the re-skinning LOL

His gears still crunch quite a bit, and maybe they always will short of a full disassembling. The crust runs deeper than any man should go, soul-deep.

Lastly..

Here he is next to my beloved Loomah. It's very interesting how different their silhouettes are.. Loomah is quite round with wide, low, "dumbo" ears. My crusty Prince sits tall with upright pointy ears and a thicker mane.

[natalchartnurtures]

the big three of Esmeralda, babes

"It appears we've crowned the wrong fool.. the only fool I see here is you!"

I'm back with the (possible) big three of Esmeralda!

Leo Sun

This was a no-brainer. She's bold, isn't afraid of being seen, and has a beautiful heart. And my god, her big, beautiful hair! Doesn't her mane seem perfectly representative of her leonine core? *Chef's kiss* Esmeralda has a spirit that isn't easily defeated, which could probably come from her having her Sun in a fixed fire sign. Kind of like a flame that never goes off. It's what gives Esmeralda her resilience and grit to fight for our beloved hunchback, Mr. Quasimodo.

Aquarius Moon

She did seem to have a soft spot for outcasts, and Aquarius being the sign of the stereotypical outcast, it makes sense for her Moon to occupy this sign. She understands Quasimodo and attempts to befriend him, offering support as well. Not just that, though; she seemed to have a mind of her own and some strong opinions to accompany that, which obviously clashed with the authority (the antagonist). What does that remind you of? Yup—Aquarian energy, alright.

Taurus Rising

She dances with grace and seduction, which got me thinking that maybe she could be Venus-ruled (and maybe with some prominent Lilithian energy going on as well, like Lilith square a planet in her 10th house or even her MC). But yeah, Taurus Rising makes sense because she's GORGEOUS—green eyes, dark skin, big hair, and walks like a sexy goddess. It simply made sense, also adding onto and explaining her stubborn attitude. She's unwavering and highly reliable—all traits that remind me of Taurus energy.

"I ask for nothing, I can get by But I know so many less lucky than I Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God God help the outcasts, children of God."

Keep getting bamboozled by the skies and ill see ya :p

<3<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3<3

[slutforaemond]

Glowering Daggers

Aemond x fem! reader(Targaryen) | SMUT

Link to part 2

Warning ⚠️:minors don't interact, filth, loads of filth,incest (niece x uncle),little bit of blood, angst, unrequited feelings, dagger play (?)

(reader is the daughter of Rhanaerya)

A/n: I'm very new to Tumblr and am still learning my way around, so i had already posted this drabble previously as a reblog accidentally. So IF YOU'RE SEEING THIS DRABBLE TWICE I'M SORRY. ಥ‿ಥ

"Let. Me. Go."

Your voice hissed in the dark hallway devoid of any presence except for you and your captor.

Maybe it was your fault you ended up here. Maybe you had gone too far in your attempts to rile up your uncle. In your defence you were only siding up with your brothers as your uncle insulted them.

But never once you thought you'd end up like this ; pressed so dangerously close to Aemond, with his hands wrapped around your pulsating throat as he looked at you with a menacing grin.

" Why should I,my dear niece?" His deep voice drawled out. "Give me one reason why I should not slash your eye out as a payment for what your little cunt of a brother did to me." He spat out, venom lacing his words.

"If you wish to do that then get done with. What the fuck are you waiting for you coward." You retorted with equal animosity to match his. "Why stop at eye, why not slash out my throat while you're at it."

His face was illuminated only by the faint flickering light of distant torches. The dance of light and shadows making his violet eye look like a raging tempest.

Aemond unsheathed his knife with a movement so swift, you would've have missed if you blinked.

He twirled the knife around in elegant circles, the gleam of the blade flashing in your eyes. You watched his long fingers work their way around the hilt in a way that made the dagger seem like an extension of his own being, that he could control by mere will of his mind.

Even while your life was at the mercy of the white maned prince's hands, you couldn't help but admire his mesmerizing skills.

Aemond seemed to have deciphered your thoughts as was evident from his cocky smirk. He brought the tip of the blade just below your chin, lifting your face up to get your attention back at his face.

Your breathing quickened, but to your horror you weren't scared, you were thrilled.

He dragged the blade painfully slow towards your bottom lip with just enough pressure to cause slight pain but not pierce your skin.

His eye set on your plump lip as his dagger dented it's middle.

Aemond could've killed you right there, but the only thing that was going through his mind was your intoxicatingly sweet smell. He willed his mind to hate you with every fiber in his body, but to no avail. With each passing day he seemed to grow more and more obsessed with his own niece. As much as he loathed your bastard brothers, he couldn't harbour the same feelings towards you. Your childhood friendship was still so alive in his memory. And now that you had grown up to become the finest lady he had ever set his eyes upon, his mind was constantly tormented by visuals of your body, by your melodious voice (even though anything that voice directed towards him were spits of fire), your chestnut brown hair, and your fiery eyes.

The irony of him being obsessed with you for the same reasons he hated those bastards , drove him crazy.

The feeling of softness of your body pressed against his hard one was like a drug to him. You didn't know it but he was exercising every last drop of his will to control his animalistic instincts to fuck you like a savage right there .

"Oh yes I could kill you sweetheart. But I shall save that fate for your beloved brothers. For you I have some very different plans love."

Your heart was thumping so loud you were sure Aemond could hear it. His insinuation was not lost on you. But instead of curling up with disgust, your nether regions throbbed deliciously at the prospect of his threats.

You hated yourself for it. No matter how venomous your words directed towards your uncle are, you couldn't lie to yourself about the fact that you secretly pined for this man and that your heart still ached for your destroyed and long forgotten friendship. You couldn't deny how deliciously handsome he had grown up to be. Even now, you couldn't help but admire his long and sharp jaw, his pointed nose and curved lips.

His blade now pressed a bit deeper, drawing out a trickle of crimson blood from your lips to match the colour of your gown.

You glared at him.

"Tell me now love, if I decide to wreck body and rob you of all your virtues, how would your family react?" He was now practically grinning, his eye still focused on your lip. "I can already picture their pathetic reactions. We would love to see that now wouldn't we?"

"Get the fuck off me. Don't you dare touch me." You hissed.

"Oh but I already am , aren't I?" He said with a malicious chuckle.

His removed his blade only to bring it down on your body again; now gingerly tracing your curves till he reached your waist.

He observed the trail of blood dripping onto your cleavage from your chin with a hunger that made you press your thighs tight.

"Hmm" his rumbling voice made you tremble.

He turned his blade around to make the blunt end of the hilt face your body. With one hand he bunched up your gown to expose your lower body and slipped his other hand beneath.

You gasp loudly at his brash action. "Aemond! What do you think you're doing?!" You exclaimed.

He let his fingers brush your dripping cunt and let out a deep cocky chuckle.

"Look you my dear niece. Is this what your true feelings are? Dripping like a whore for the uncle you hate so much ?"

You could hear the glee in his voice as heat crept up your cheeks making them almost as red as the blood oozing from your lip.

"Shut up." You grimaced at your own pathetic response.

You suddenly felt a cold touch in your nether regions and with a sharp intake of breath you realised he pressed the hilt of his dagger to your swollen clit.

You look at him with wide eyes only to find amusement dancing in his.

He gently pressed it earning a moan out of your lips. Horrified at yourself, you were too embarrassed to even face him now, so you turned your face sideways.

Aemond was enjoying your reactions way too much for his own good. Your delectable moans and ripe red cheeks made his cock strain painfully against his pants.

He drew circles on your clit causing a string of involuntary lewd sounds from you. You had no control of your body anymore, as you rotated your hips to feel the dagger on all the right places, seeking for relief.

Aemond almost losing all his self control seeing your condition, pressed his nose at the side of your jaw. You felt his hot tongue slide across your skin.

You breathing was so loud , you were afraid someone was sure to overhear your filthy interactions with this devious man.

Aemond suddenly withdrew his dagger, making you look at him with surprise. Was this his way of punishing you?

The only reply you got was his huge grin as pressed his fingers against your slippery wet clit.

He brought his dagger up to slash the front of your gown, making your breasts spill out in a slight bounce.

You could only whine in protest as your energy slowly seeped out due to his exploits.

Aemond actually salivated looking at your soft breasts , now staring back at him with stiff peaks. The blood trickling down from your lips to chin and finally between your mounds of soft plump flesh made him practically growl with lust.

He then placed the dagger at your entrance, adjusting it's tip on your rims.

"Aemond no! S-stop p-lease." You exclaim on realising what he was about to do.

"That doesn't sound so convincing love." He replied with a sadistic humour wrapping his words.

And you agreed, even though you wouldn't say that out loud.

His fingers now moved at lightening speed on your cunt as he simultaneously pushed the hilt deep inside you.

Your moans became louder and louder with each passing second; and on the threat of them turning to screams, Aemond sealed your mouth in a searing kiss. He swallowed your slutty moans as his tongue lashed out on every corner of your mouth.

He savoured your sweet lilac scent mixed with the iron smell of the blood on your lips.

You couldn't believe just how turned on you were with a dagger inside you. It's cold feel on your warm insides was deriliously exciting and made you shiver all over. You could feel the the intricate designs of it scraping on your vaginal walls as he rotated it inside you ever so slowly. Your knuckles turned white from the pressure of holding onto his shoulders so hard for support as your body grew weak.

You clenched around the hardness as you were drawn extremely close to climax by the work of Aemond's swift and precise fingers.

Aemond seemed to sense it as he detached his his lips from yours and he took in your expression with a wide grin that was now bloodied from kissing your cut lips.

Your eyes rolled back and breath hitched in your throat as you came hard; thrashing so violently, Aemond had to press down on you against the wall.

Your wetness covered his entire hand that was holding the dagger which now fell out due to the sheer slipperyness of your spent cunt.

You saw him licking your milky release from his dagger with a long swipe of his tongue while maintaining eye contact with you with a maniacaly lustful look. The act was almost enough to get your overstimulated cunt be ready to get ravaged again by your uncle.

"I hate you." You breathed out weakly as you collapsed on him, all your strength leaving your body.

"I hate you too, sweetheart." Aemond said as he pulled in your body gently too him.

Were you mistaken or did you hear an underlying softeness in his voice; a familiar fondness that you had last heard ages ago?

Whatever it was your mind was too scattered to form any coherent thoughts as you heaved into the crook of his neck while he carried you off to where you didn't know.

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

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fireflies

Ah, my beloved @lordoftherazzles has been such a good friend and has sent me this lovely prompt.

Now, evidently, Razzy is queen of Bagginshield (and firefly scenes) but I hope that this might make her smile nonetheless...

Words: 774

Characters: Bilbo x Thorin

Prompt: Fireflies

Warnings: None

Bilbo swatted the fragrant air swirling around him lazily as if he could dispel the oppressive heat by simply waving it aside like an unwelcome relative out to get his best silverware.

Just within arm’s reach of him, Thorin hummed happily, utterly lost in thought.

Pressing his lips together to hold his smirk at bay, Bilbo decided not to harp on the fact that he had been right when he had claimed that Thorin needed a holiday.

"Dear," he had said in his most serious and convincing tone, "the mountain is wonderful, but wouldn't you like to spend at least part of the summer in a place where you can actually feel the sun on your skin?"

If he was completely honest though, his motives had been much less pure and selfless than his stubborn pride made him pretend.

As a matter of fact, he had lately started to desperately miss the Shire—as the warmer months rolled around, he yearned to see the fields scintillate in the glaring light and smell the complex perfume of the wildflowers behind his house.

Only, he knew that not even the most perfect summer evening in his childhood paradise would feel like home without that brave, strong, and endearingly awkward dwarven king of his.

To his surprise and relief, Thorin had not grumbled or argued overmuch but had willingly handed over the reins of his kingdom to his nephews and packed a much too heavy bag right away as if he had only been waiting for Bilbo to say the word.

"We should go in," Bilbo now murmured languidly as the penumbra behind his lids grew deeper and darker—the sun was going down in a halo of blood and he expected his beloved to hanker after a quick bath and a tankard of ale before dinner.

"Not yet," Thorin replied, his voice much clearer than Bilbo had expected it to be.

Alarmed, the hobbit sat up abruptly. "What is the matter?" he asked in a tremulous voice.

In his mind, various horror scenarios sprang to life, jostling one another in their race to Bilbo's frantically beating heart.

What if Thorin had only pretended to be at ease here for his sake and—in his heart of hearts—he hated the indolent, sometimes outright lazy days a proper hobbit could while away, lying in the grass and eating sun-sweetened berries all afternoon long?

Even worse, what if he had espied the black wings of a terrible messenger sent from the Mountain that had hastened here to recall them to their duties?

Bilbo swallowed and turned to the one he had loved so dearly for so long in tense expectation of a new catastrophe, his ears and nose twitching in alarm, ready to pick up on the slightest indication of a threat.

"Look Bilbo," Thorin whispered hoarsely and pointed a finger at the nearby bushes that had shielded their frequent exchanges of tender kisses—sticky with fruit juice and sweat—throughout the day.

Like dancing stars lighting up the nascent darkness, fireflies were swarming among the branches merrily.

It was a sight that warmed Bilbo's heart as it reminded him of the carefree, endless days of his childhood and youth.

Nevertheless, he could not recall ever having been so visibly overwhelmed or overjoyed by the spectacle as Thorin now appeared to be.

"They are like specks of gold and shards of precious gems," the dwarven king breathed, awe ringing in every word. “It’s been so long since last such a blessing was granted to me…thank you for reminding me, yet again, of these simple but invaluable pleasures.”

As he regarded his sapphire-eyed lover and brushed a chubby hand down the filaments of pure silver streaking Thorin's proud mane, Bilbo could only sigh in agreement.

"The wonders of the outside world," he chuckled softly. "I am glad that I got to share this moment with you."

His previous fears kept gnawing at the edges of his mind though and so, after another few minutes of contemplative silence, he finally burst out with the question that tortured him so.

"Why did you agree to come? Many are those who have tried to lure you from your throne without much success. Are you feeling quite all right?"

Waving a hand at the tireless flight of their twinkling visitors, Thorin shrugged sheepishly.

Grabbing Bilbo's chin between his strong index and thumb, he then bent forward to press a passionate kiss on those soft, cheeky lips.

"I heeded your demand," he then replied simply and soberly, "because you are my miracle of the outside world. And I'd not miss a second of it."

@fellowshipofthefics: here's another one :)

I hope you've enjoyed this, love <3

Lots of love from me <3

[crowholtz]

Helene x Strahd moment that happened recently I need to talk about, I'll write it out. (This got way longer than intended but I actually really like it and it's kind of a good representation of them 🥺 they're perfect for each other but they're so toxic help) they play mind games with each other and she wins this one

~~~~

A soft breath left Helene as she nestled tightly into Strahd's side, glancing up at the ancient vampire with a thoughtful gaze.

She'd not intended for this to happen again. Their late-night rendezvous had become less and less frequent ever since their war began, and she's intended for them to stop altogether when she called off their engagement.

But as the night drew on while her companions slept, her insomnia plagued her once more, and she'd wandered out into the Abbey's courtyard for some air. In the distance, just beyond the gates of Krezk, she saw it. An ornate black carriage, drawn by two brilliant ebony-maned horses. Strahd's carriage.

Helene had felt drawn to it. The ghosts of urging hands on her back, her neck, her shoulders. The lantern hanging from it became the focal point of her entire existence. She'd barely registered her feet moving, her dark angelic wings unfurling and lifting her off the ground. Or did she walk? She could scarcely remember. The only vivid thing she knew was his face when she got there, smiling at her, welcoming her with open arms. Like a moth to a flame, every time.

Naturally, he worked his manipulations and cajoling. He told her he would not try to take her back to the castle with him - this time. He'd called it a momentary halt to their war. Just for the night. Helene, even in her reluctance, was grateful for the excuse to spend time with without the looming threat of being kidnapped. She couldn't help but he drawn to him, and being in his arms was both a danger and a comfort.

After he'd gotten his fill of her blood, and she his flesh, he pulled her against his chest in the warmly lit carriage, a possessive hand cradling the back of her head. For a short time, Helene lay there, letting her mind, for the most part, drift into the contented haze that seemed to blanket her that night. Her mind was a naturally disquiet place, however, and the usual guilt and conflict began to creep into her head. She could not forget the duty she had to fulfill, the resistance she had to mount against him, to lead the charge for. Here she was a leader for her allies, the people she swore to protect and stand by, indulging in the enemy.

In the process of these self-admonishing thoughts, Helene realized something. Strahd should not be here either. They were at war. They were both students of strategy and warfare. He knew better than to distract himself with this, with his obsession with her. It had been his downfall many times since her arrival in Barovia, one she had even manipulated to win battles; he was soft for her.

So she stared into his perfect face, and smiled.

Strahd raised a ponderous brow, "What is it that delights you so beautifully?" He drawled deeply, with practiced diction.

Helene raised a hand to his cheek, smoothing her thumb over the smooth planes of his face. Her voice was low, her timbre sliding against his skin like a bow against the strings of a cello. "I see the cracks in your armor."

She did not meet his eyes, instead choosing to track where her fingers were touching his face.

He did not react at first. "Whatever do you mean, my beloved?"

"You are not as shielded as you would like, darling. You made a mistake in coming here with me tonight, in promising not to take me away." Helene knew it was risky to say this as the blood moon was high in the sky, flaring vampiric urges across Barovia. Strahd was a man of his word, but she did not know how far the blood moon would push him to break his own rules. It was a soft challenge to say such a thing.

Instead of letting it linger for rumination, she continued, "You should be preparing. Planning your next move against us. Being here with me provides no tactical value. You are running out of time, Strahd... And yet here you are, indulging in your obsession for me."

Strahd's face remained stoic, ever the sculpting of a marble statue, before a cool smile forced its way through, "There are no cracks in my armor, I can assure you." He gently grasped the hand on her his face and kissed her fingertips, his crimson eyes never leaving hers. "Besides, are you so sure I am not currently enacting an offense right now? Perhaps I have figured out a way past the defenses of your current base and have sent my blood knights to your Argynvostholt to dismantle what presence you have set up there. Or perhaps I am not here with you now. I could be an illusion or a trick of your mind, while I simply make my way into the Abbey where your allies rest. As well as your poor injured brother. It must take such a toll on him. The responsibility of being The Abbot while languishing in such a state... I imagine he feels powerless."

A frown tugged gently on Helene's lips as she tried not to let her wings ruffle in response to his soft threats towards her allies and brother. But she knew better. This was a game they always played. Sussing the other out. Calling bluffs. She was calling his now.

"Then you would have made a mockery of this night we have shared together." Helene said simply. Her eyes, silver and intense, flutter up to meet his dead-on. "And I know you would not do that to us. Our love is a romantic tragedy, not a comedy."

To most, the faltering of Strahd's smile would be near imperceptible. But Helene studied his face like the most sacred of divine scripture. She knew its every twitch.

Strahd took an unnecessary breath in, "Perhaps I have not. However, I... can assure you, my Helene," he drawled out her name almost as a warning, "there are no cracks in my armor." His hand gripped hers more tightly.

Helene managed to slip her hand from his grasp, resuming her caress against his cheek, her gaze falling back to her her ministrations once more, "There are, my love. Cracks, scuffs, scratches on the plate," she crooked a finger against his cheekbone, "wrinkles..." Strahd's eyes flashed and she quickly slid her hand down to pluck at his embroidered tunic, "in the fabric."

Helene had to suppress a smirk. Her wordplay was risky but intentional, preying upon his problems with aging and imperfection to unbalance him, but subtle enough to not set him off. It was an exciting game for Helene.

The unsettled emotions on his face were a pitched battlefield seen by no one else but her, his nostrils flaring just barely, jaw clenching, pupils dilating -- Helene saw it all in her peripheral vision. It was a brief but bloody battle which ended with him smoothing his dark hair back, the cool smile returning, "My, you have such a way with words. Perhaps you may write me more poetry, my beloved."

Helene smiled at him as he pivoted the subject, playing along. "I just might."

Small as it was, she tucked this victory away to relish later.

[lottiecrabie]

Can you please write a blurb of TDAB!Matty being jealous of a guy hitting on Alana and being really toxic about it?

Can you please write a tdab blurb where he gets gets jealous because there is someone else being Handys with Alana and it’s angsty because she’s like well you’re not even supposed to care but then he like shows her how he can do anything better than the guy who was flirting with her

my toxic terrible disgusting beloveds<3

alana is high and drunk, barely feeling her face as she dances in the middle of the light-up floor. technicolors drown her face, though she’s barely aware of them behind her eyelids. every particule of her buzzes.

there’s a guy behind her. he’s tall, lanky and with a short buzzcut— she tries to rake her hand in the mane, but finds nothing to grip onto. something in her is annoyed at the fact, holding it against him for a reason she can’t quite place.

he whispers in the crook of her neck. it’s filthy, low, and she barely makes the words out. knows nothing but the feel of them as they press against her skin, plump lips grazing her jaw and kissing it. there’s no teeth to it— again, she holds it against him.

‘do you wanna get out of here?’ he says, suddenly crystal clear. alana frowns. the world sways with her, air moving in tandem with her expert body rolls. she’s one with the crowd, with the bass-heavy music, with the room.

she doesn’t want to fucking get out of here.

alana shakes her head, slack. he sighs behind her. her lips purse. he’s ruining her happy high. ‘i want a drink,’ she declares, hoping to get him lost in the swallowing sea of drinkers.

‘alright,’ he nods, pinching her waist and then leaving. she turns to him, dumbfounded. he didn’t even ask her what.

alana watches his retreating back. he’s waiting by the bar, glued in place alongside the sardine people, when he finds him. matty.

she curses. standing still on the dancefloor, she watches apprehensively as matty talks to him. dancers blur her visions, arms jumping in and out of frame, dark drenching the room then light blooming it back again in vivid pink. she makes sense of them difficultly: matty talks at him more than anything, head bent with a trickster smile, condescending and cruel in the corners. a hand rests on the man’s shoulder, like they’re close, like they’re friends.

she can spot the act even through the daze of the dancefloor. matty takes his phone out, still laughing goodnaturedly as he shows him something on it. ‘shit,’ she mutters, pushing herself out of the crowd.

she’s near enough to hear but not to intervene in the car crash when matty says, ‘see, here she’s taking my cock like my good girl— told you she wasn’t always a brat.’ the man is green and pale, staring at matty with wide eyes.

alana slaps the phone, pushing his arm down to hide the compromising picture of her moaning, eyes rolled back. the man stares at her next, swallowing harshly.

‘alana!’ matty says, though there’s still that cutting edge as he pierces the man with a look. ‘i was just making a friend.’

her eyebrows raise at him, pissed. ‘is that what you call it?’

‘look, sorry, man. i didn’t know she had a guy,’ the man apologizes, holding two hands up to show his innocence.

‘i don’t—‘ she huffs. ‘he’s not—‘

‘i don’t want any trouble,’ he assures again, turning around and fleeing the scene. she watches him go, once again holding it against him.

‘well,’ matty pipes up. ‘i think he was a bit cowardly for you.’

eyes narrowed, alana twists to face him. ‘what is your problem?’

‘i was just letting him know what he was getting himself into,’ matty defends, suddenly a paragon of innocence. ‘you know, i don’t think it’s fair to sleep with a bloke when he doesn’t know the standards i’ve set.’

she snorts meanly. ‘the standards—‘ air huffs out of her nose, but there’s no joy in her laugh. ‘you fucking dream, healy.’

‘right, right,’ he nods, rubbing his lips, taking his phone out. flipping the screen to her, alana is faced with a collection of pictures of her in various states of ecstasy— moaning, giggling, sucking on his finger, wiping cum out of her face. always slack and fucked out, grinning so good for him. ‘my dreams.’

she closes his phone, doubly pissed. ‘you’re jealous,’ alana says, changing tactics now that she’s been counterattacked on her first strategy. matty clenches his jaw, but doesn’t deny it. a smile blooms on her face. ‘oh, my god. you’re jealous.’

‘i’m not—‘ his jaw flexes, an angry huff of hair leaving him. ‘i don’t care.’

she crosses her arms. ‘sure.’

‘fuck who you want.’

‘okay, i will.’

dark eyes lock with hers. she reads him like her favorite book. smirking, she looks around. ‘i think there must be someone here you haven’t showed porn of me yet.’ her gaze settles on a dancing girl, arms flapping mindlessly in an adorable way. ‘there.’

‘whatever,’ matty says, but it comes out choked and angry.

making eye contact with the girl, she waves her fingers, smiling like honey. ‘i think i’ll be very good for her. sugary sweet and all.’ the girl waves back.

‘cause she can’t handle you otherwise?’

she looks at matty. ‘why do you care?’ he licks his teeth, anger radiating off of him. ‘because you do, don’t you?’ he breathes in, tense. ‘admit it.’

‘no.’

‘admit or i’ll leave with her right now.’ her steps start, but matty grabs her wrist, holding her back.

‘don’t leave with her.’

‘why?’

he sighs. ‘you know why.’

she stares at him. ‘why?’

terribly pained, matty mutters, ‘i’m— i don’t like seeing you with other people.’ he spits it out like it tastes awful on his tongue.

this time, there’s no teasing, nothing but a genuine frown as she whispers, ‘why?’

he inhales, breath stuck in his throat. ‘i don’t know.’ his fingers press into her wrist. ‘don’t leave with her. let’s get out of here. i can do it better— you know i can.’

alana smirks, climbing a hand up his arm, settling on his shoulder. she grins, teasing, ‘remind me.’

[thebelljarwriter]

Spawns of Dracula - day 4: vampires

prompt entry for @thepromptfoundry :], vampires

summary: with the famous three wives of Dracula, comes the three children of the infamous count. the unholy trinity.

They say three children live in that castle.

 The eldest is a young beauty, slender and agile, graceful with each movement like a doe moving swiftly with the wind, a mane of dark curls that reach down to her elbows, and a complexion that glistens like the moonlight. She is the heiress to the throne, the future Countess to her father’s bloodline. 

 The middle child is the only boy, he is only three years apart from his elder sister, her complete opposite, a pretty young man, they say, he shares the same features as her — dark waves of hair and round dark eyes that make girls swoon over him. Yet, unlike his sister, he is as awkward as a baby fawn, willowy and lanky, the prettiness makes up for the lack of his clumsiness. Despite the fact his sister is older than he, the young lad is much beloved by his father. 

 The youngest is another young girl, she is the youngest and most cherished by The Count. She sits in the lap of luxury, born in silk and ribbons in the locks of her soft raven hair, she walks on her tiptoes much like a ballerina and moves much like one on the center of a stage. The others say she is the most innocent one, the one not tainted by the bloodline that is The Count’s. A little girl whose hair is tied with a rose-pink ribbon and a snow-white dress decorated with jewels, and yet behind those soft, doe eyes is the very thing she inherited from her father, the very thing she shared with her siblings. 

 Even a rose has thorns, they pierce your skin if you aren't careful. 

“Children,” The Count calls to them, “dinner is ready.”

 “Coming father.” says Ophelia, the eldest, the click of her heels echo through the halls as she makes her way down.

 “Yes, sir.” murmurs Dante as he hastily moves alongside his elder sister, earning a sideway glare from her.

 “On my way, poppa!” chirps Aurora as she finishes brushing her hair and fixing the ribbon, tying it neatly into a perfect bow. As though she were a precious little doll of sorts, maybe she was. To her father, at least, the way she dressed.

 They say the three children live in that castle.

 And the three are the unholy trinity of Dracula’s spawn.

[blazescompendium]

Blaze's compendium entry #7: Never deny tobacco to the Saci Pererê

The Saci painted by Newton Cavalcanti to a stamp collection, 1974

Warning: Faith and religion are important real life topics, that tackles the culture and way of life of millions of real life people. It is a cultural expression, and must be respected by all means. Here, we use a video-game ( some times) and other media series only to ignite the flame of learning about the matter, using its art when well depicted, but we do this with all due respect to the cultures we talk here, grounded by real life sources, cultures and people. And i mean this with respect. Hope you all enjoy.

I can finally talk a bit about my home country myths after a brief trip around other countries mythical creatures. The Saci is an extremely popular creature in Brazilian Folklore, and if you are Brazilian i am absolute sure you have encountered its fabulous tales already.

The Saci is (regrettably) not represented in the Megaten game series, as most of characters from my Compendium series. But i want to pop this bubble going forward, and not be exclusively tied to this games, since Mythology is a much more expansive subject, and i like to use Megaten just as a welcoming gate to more casual audiences!

The Saci Pererê is a Brazilian folkloric creature, akin to the trickster ''gnome'' archetype, not considered an evil creature by any means, but very mischievous and a prankster. Normally depicted as a black skinned toddler smoking a pipe, red cap, and some times red clothing. It's most striking feature is his only leg, which he uses to jump around in a surprisingly agile manner. His mischief deeds are many, like he would tie horse's manes, startle them, move objects inside people's homes, etc... His most known power is his control of wind currents. He can summon small sized typhoons, in which the creature can ride on to flee or use to fight if he needs to.

The Saci is hyperactive and fast, always doing something. Some people can interpret this creature as malevolent since its mischief and pranks can cause serious problems, like stealing the breaks of a carriage. However, that's not exactly the truth. The Saci is, almost always portrayed as neutral creture, and it has been since it's inception into the public consciousness. As we can see, some times it can be treated as a little devil, but it's a beloved figure nonetheless.

The name Saci Perere cames from a theorized corruption of the Tupi Guarani words: Caa Cy Perereg, which means ''Jumping Evil Eyes''. That's stated on the book ''Saci Perere: An Inquiry Result''. I was not able to verify it independently because i do not speak Tupi, and i was also unable to find online translators. But, this wording is also verified by the book ''Geography of the Brazilian Myths'' by the legendary Brazilian folklorist Camara Cascudo, so it seems legit. There will be a lot of this book in this subject, because it is such a complete work and a vital piece of research for anyone getting into the topic. [2], [1]

Cascudo does a great scholar work, going as far as giving dis-ambiguity of the Saci from other myths, and even animals that could be related to the legend.

Context: The Tupi Guarani, or just Guarani are the biggest native population living in the territory of Brazil today. They live more from the central region to the south and south-east, relatively far away form the Amazon forest in the northern regions. In general they are polytheists, and today are around 57.000,00 people. [This is sourced by the IBGE, Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics]

But, even being a very popular creature in the local folklore, and even transcending the boundaries of its homeland some times, (as we will see ahead) the Saci has a relatively recent history. It's impossible to pinpoint exactly who and how this legend started. But we know it started on the southern and south-eastern most regions of the country, but there's no mention of it on the old fables from native people, which makes scholars think that the Saci is not that old as its relatives of the regional folklore.

A fact that corroborates this assertion is that, besides being a very popular folklore in Brazil, Saci is absent form any mentions to ancient sources, starting to appear more from the 18th century and above. [1]

The name Saci is not stranger to Folklore in the region though. Saci is also the name of a bird, Tapera Naevis, which has a related myth according to the Brazilian National Museum. The Saci bird is treated sometimes like a demon, that can confuse travelers with its singing. Another local legend has that this bird can suck the dead's souls. Al tough both of those claims are backed, i personally did not hear about it until researching for this topic. [1]

This particular bird its said to be seen as a bad omen to this day, in the Amazon region. This is pretty far away from where the folkloric Saci was born, but it seems that a common association with the bird is that it asks for tobacco to its pipe, just like the Saci does. This animal has the habit to sing during night times, so the legend says that it means it wants tobacco. If you actually replies to it, its said the bird will come after your promisse. [1]

This particular bird can also be connected to another folkloric tale, this time from the northern regions of Brazil, a witch called the Matinta-Pereira. This is a particular demonic witch, that can transform itself into the Saci bird, (Tapera Naevis) to get offerings from residents of villages. When her demands are not met, she causes bad things to happen. She also wears a red hat, and her name also bears the ''Perereg'' wording from before. Scholars believe that this is because this bird sometimes jumps in one leg, and has red feathers in their heads, which would also make senses with the Saci! I personally could not find any visual registry about it, but i am sure most of birds some times do this kind of stuff. [1]

The Matinta eventually became a generic name for haunting and supernatural ocurrences in the Northern regions, while the Saci became a thing in the southern regions. The Matinta became more associated with its cursed singings, as the book mentioned before says: ''It trespasses villages with its haunting screams. It will not attack or go after people, thought.'' [1] It kinda resembled me personally of the European Banshee, which also caused misfortune and disasters, and possesses a terrifying cry.

The Saci bird and the Matinta-Pereira witch. (Art i got from Wikipedia, can't find the artist ): )

But this is just one, of the whole ''Birds named as Saci''. There is also the Romococcyx Phasianellus known colloquially as ''Peixe Frito'' (Fried Fish) and inhabits most of Brazilian territory. It has myths around its singing. [1]

If you got interested in this whole rabbit hole of folkloric birds, there's a lot to go on around the world myths! Just some time ago we made an article about the Muh Shubbuu from the Buryati people!

Notably the Saci shares its notoriety and Brazilian legends Pantheon with other similar trickster spirits, like the Caipora and the Curupira. Both are protectors of the nature, both of those are tricksters, and both also asks for tobacco in some legends! Although, the Saci is not a protector of nature, his only goals are to cause mischief. In more recent times, Saci is treated like he's a friend of those two, but this has more of a childish connotation, when teaching about national folklore to children.

The Saci also has spawned some relatives in neighbor countries. In Uruguay there is the Yasi Yatere, which is kind of a gnome with a magical wand. It can shape shift, and it usually kidnaps woman. When its wand is taken, much like the brazilian Saci with its hat, its powers ceases and it becomes weak. It's described in great detail in the book ''Supersticiones y Lendas'', from Juan B Ambrosetti. [1], [3]

In Argentina the Yasi is described mixing the features of its cousins from the region. It is also a dwarf type of gnome, but it's red and also carry a magical wand that protects its powers. They also would kidnap children to play with them, but they would go insane after that. It is also described by Ambrosetti. But also mentioned in a letter of a European missionary called José Guevara. [1]. [3]

Many of these features that the Saci and the Yasi shares comes mostly from European legends, the old archetype of a monster that can be tamed by taking it's belongings. Like the Vouivre from France with its carbuncle. The Saci wears its distinct red hat, that its often taken as the source of its power, so capturing a Saci involves capturing his hat. This could have a Portuguese influence. [1] Theres myths in Portugal, like the so called ''Pesadelo'' which is a creature that when having its hat stolen, could be controlled by the assailant.[1]

-Interesting fact that i have found many sources for this Portuguese myth, and other books mentioning it, but when talking with a friend from Portugal, he could not recognize this specific legend. If you are also Portuguese, and know about it, please let me know!

The 1924 book from F.C Maytzhusen: ''Pigimeos en Leyendas de los Guarnies'' Roughly translated as ''Gnomes in Guarany legends'' tells that the own Gurani people from the region had already its own myths about small magical people living in the woods, which some scholars attribute to an ancient memory of a small stature tribe that potentially lived around. This concept probably mixed very well with the before cited European beliefs, brought by the invaders. [4]

As you can see, it's like the already established lore about native gnome myths got fused with the European equivalents, such as like: The haunting trickster spirits of the woods, small size, agile and mischievous. In the book Geography of Brazilian Myths, the author makes a lot of comparisons to Djins, Imps, Faes, Fairies, and in fact i believe the Saci can absolutely fit in any of those ''races'' of mythic creatures, specially a Djinn or Yokai.

But in that book, the author fixates on the European Kobold being it's main ''ancestry''. The Kobold is like a Goblin, gnome and other whimsical forest creatures like the Brownies, Knockers and Silkies. Kobolds are a bit more versatile than its relatives, being told to live in houses, mining sites, and even boats. The boat ones used to smoke pipe! Kobold are individuals and can be mischievous, haunting and tormenting Humans that don't do their will. Just like their possible Brazilian relatives, the Kobold encounters are not usually fatal.

Silky, Knocker, Kobold and Brownies are just some whimsical European fae that can be the common ancestor to the Saci

While some of those European Fae often smoked, the actual academic theory on why the Saci smoked pipe, it's from the native smoking rituals and culture of the Brazilian Native people, such as the Guarany. In the book before mentioned, the native people from Brazil teached the European invaders how to smoke. This was quick considered to be a sin for some European priests and got demonized by some as well, while it spread quickly between their peers. [1]

The Saci being one legged is not something original in mythology. Going back further in time to the legendary book ''Natural History'' from Pliny the Elder, (i really want to come back to this book one day) where he describes the Monopods, humanoid creatures that had just one leg and a giant feet, which they used to cast refreshing shadows on themselves when it was too hot outside. This creatures were before described in the even older book, Indika from Ctesias, and supposedly spotted in India. Just like the Saci, this creature was extremely agile even if just having one leg. They continued to be believed and continuously described well over the middle ages. [1], [5]

Monopod. A rather Silly guy from Nuremberg Chronicle, 1493

There's no consensus on its origins, but some people say that the first people from the Europe seeing Yoga practitioners in India stand in one leg, or have some kind of parasol confused. We will likely never know, but that goes to show one legged humanoid creatures were already talked about much earlier. [1]

In Chile you also had the Ketronamun from the native people there, a small gnome with just one leg, that appear in myths from almost every part of the Pacific South American coast. [1]

But there were also one legged deities around, take Tezcatlipoca from the Mexica (Aztecs) for instance. Being the god of moon and the stars, and one of the most important beings in the Mexica pantheon, he lost its leg fighting Cipactli. It was also related to the nocturnal wind, another connection with the Saci. But there is no scholar belief that the two were actually connected, they just shared a lot of similarities. [1]

T ezcatlipoca misses his leg, or foot in many depictions!

But How the Saci was actually Born?

As we discussed the Saci Pererê was not cataloged by the first European Invaders of the 16th century. In truth, there are a lot of myths and tales that were properly archived by them, but the Saci is nowhere to be seen. So, scholars deduct the Saci was not that old, being actually born and popularized around the 17th century. [1] But the Saci would just gain character and personality around the 19th century.

The legend much probably, spread by word of mouth from south to north, while it would slowly absorbing local and foreign elements during its trip. From the regional mythical creatures like the Curupira, he inherited the ability to confuse and mislead people. From Caipora he inherited the haunting whistles and its relationship with horses. Its only leg could be from the Bird myths, and also inherited from European folklore as well. Its own red hat also coming from there. [1]

The red hat sometimes its a sign of supernatural entities in Europe. The name ''The One With The Red Hat'' was an euphemism for Satan himself and other devils in Portugal. The Saci some times is treated like a devil, in the Book ''Saci: An Inquiry Result'' at the page 83, there's a tale about the Saci appearing with a sulfur scent, just like demons would normally do. [2]

The Revival and the Controversy of Monteiro Lobato

When we talk about the Saci in Brazil, the elephant in the room is always Monteiro Lobato, an author from the 20th century. Without a doubt, his work was one of the most prolific and known authors if its time, and also dedicated a lot of his work to disseminate national Folklore. There was just one big problem: He was a terrible person. Lobato was a racist, aligned with the United Statian KKK, (yes) and generally treated people, specially black people, very poorly. So, if that was a text oriented only for Brazilians, i'd completely ignore his name, and would focus on the texts. But, for the sake of education of foreign readers, i had to mention him.

In 1917, this (awful) individual published an inquiry in one of the biggest newspapers of the country, searching for personal and regional tales about the Saci, which he planned to catalog and archive. The idea was to protect the national Folklore, since he would argument that we should focus on our own mythology, rather than importing everything from other countries. While the Saci had the ancestry of European Myth, it was a 100% modern Brazilian born legend. This kind of thought is pretty impressive from a racist dipshit, but ok.

Although Lobato did had the idea of collecting tales, they were all brought from other people, regular people, which i prefer to credit. With this rather than him. They published the book ''Saci: An Inquiry Result''. This book would be very important for the Saci lore, because it ended up skyrocketing its dim popularity, making sure he would survive for more centuries.

A funny trivia about this book, is that at the time of its publishing, the newspaper asked its sponsors to make ads using the Saci. Which had some pretty weird art that i rather not show. Thank you Monteiro Lobato for creating our capitalist version of the Dictionaire Infernal, very cool.

[EDIT] Lobato is also the creator of the work ''Sítio do Pica Pau Amarelo'' or roughly translated as Spot of the Yellow Woodpecker. I ended up not talking about it, but this is by far his most famous work that featured the Saci Pererê as one of the main character, as many other folkloric Brazilian entities. This work is often credited as many children's first contact with the Saci, and other folk Brazilian tales. This particular series is about a farm owned by Benta, an elderly woman that lived alone in the countryside. Her friend Nastácia lives along, and is famous for her dishes. She often gets visits of her nephew Lucia, which has the nickname Narizinho. She brings along her doll Emillia, which ends up gaining life and becomes a sort of tomboyish sidekick. They both live adventures along her friends and folkloric creatures.

Much regarded as the ''Brazilian Wizard of Oz'' this work was so popular it got adapted into several comic books and live action shows. The most popular of which aired during the 2000s from 2001 to 2007, and i as a kid often watched it. My favorite character had to be Emilia. (She will be present in the compendium, or a lesser post soon enough)

Al tough, due to Lobato awful nature as a person, the series is often pointed out as racist and problematic, being also written in the early 20th century it was filled with problems, which made a lot of people that grew up with this work depressed by those details. Luckily this is one of the rare occasions where there is an active effort from scholars and fans alike, to separate Sitio's influence on Brazilian culture and Folklore, from the awful person that was Lobato. The book is now on Public Domain, and each new iteration of the story deletes more and more problematic points, and as more decades went by, it gets more safe to consume and mixed with the Brazilian folklore, leaving the author in a sweet side note.

That said, not everybody is ok with this approach as well, and prefer to just abandon the literary work entirely. Which i honestly can't blame them for...

One of the latest iterations of Sitio do Pica Pau Amarelo is a cartoon, produced during the 2010s. Here are Emilia and Lucia.

But, as the 20th century went by and more people went in contact with the Saci tales, now widespread, the once regional myth started to gain the world, and became a symbol of the country culture. For instance, in the 70s and 80s the Saci would be featured in the Japanese anime: Akuma Kun, from the legendary author Shigeru Mizuki, which i already covered many times here. Mizuki is an old acquaintance of us theologians, because he was not only a mangaka, but also a devoted scholar of over the world mythologies. Its studies some times ended up in Brazil, and that's how he got the Saci.

You may know this author from the famous Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro series. Mizuki made some mistakes, but he was one of the most important folklorists of its time, helping to protect and disseminate the folklore of his country. According the author Michael Dylan Foster, in the book ''The book of Yokai'' Mizuki was influenced by folklorists as such Yanagita Kunio (we already mentioned him here as well, for the Obayrion post!) And thanks to Mizuki, most post war Japanese people were thinking of his works, when thinking about Yokai.

But back to the Saci, he was a recurring character in the Akuma Kun manga. The series was about a boy that could control mythical creatures from around the world. Since Akuma Kun got a lot of sequels and reboots, we are talking about Saishinban Akuma Kun, from 1988. There, the Saci makes an appearance! The looks is very faithful, but the hat isn't red, and in the animation the character would have two legs, rather than the only leg always associated with it. Still, he controlled the winds and was very mischievous just like in its home country!

The Saci in Akuma Kun Manga vs Anime

Mizuki's iteration of the Saci also just loses its powers when people take out his pipe, which differs from our regular version, where the hat does that. Besides this fact, Mizuki takes the artistic freedom to make the creature liking Football, which i particularly find funny but a bit stereotypical, and some people did not liked it. Overall, i thought it as a great representation!

Akuma Kun will get a new Anime in 2023. Lets hope that our Brazilian whimsicall friend makes an appearance.

There is much talk on how Mizuki found about the Saci Pererê, and the contact of Japanese with Brazilian folklore. I already explored that on my text on the Pokémon Whimsicott as well. However, the Brazilian Folklore in my opinion resonates very well with Japanese Folklore, so much that a lot of other Japanese artists that came in contact with it ended up using it as inspiration as well. A very known example is from the animator Ype Nakashima, that much probably had contact with Mizuki. The Saci was a character in one of Ype's most beloved works, the animation Piconze.

Although the exagerated details in the Saci, that can be seen as problematic nowadays, this depiction is a product of its time, and i do not agree with it. It's here for the purpose of education.

While the Saci is not from Japan, we can see that it would get along very well with other Yokai, which ends up making it kind of popular with Japanese audiences. Other Brazilian Mythical creatures were also explored by foreigners like the Cuca, Caipora, (which appeared in the Demi Kids series of games, by the way!) The Curupira, and many others!

The Saci vs the Halloween a National Symbol

The Saci Pererê got the status of a national symbol. And as such, it was often used as a counter point to foreign interference in Brazilian culture. Since its rebirth in the 20th century, in an attempt to retrieve its legacy, the creature is often held as a protector of Brazilian culture.

As such, in 2003 it was proposed by Brazilian politics that the Saci should have a national holiday, and it should be commemorated in October 31st, in opposition to the growing Halloween culture around Brazil. The argument was that this was a foreign holiday, not from our country, and we should celebrate the Saci as a symbol of patriotism.

But the problem is that Halloween was never a tradition nor a holiday in Brazil, and both holidays never caught too much attention. Still, the Saci vs Jack O'Lantern fight is somewhat took lightly as a funny way to protect our national Folklore.

Notoriously, the beef between the Saci and Jack O'Lantern was commemorated in a song, from the 2013 parody metal album ''Metal Folklore'', sang by the Brazilian metal singer Bruno Sutter, acting as his parody Persona the Detonator. The album was pretty well received and brought attention to the concept again, with the song called ''Saci.'' which is a critic to United States imperialism and its forced influence on Brazilian culture. Bruno brought along the famous Punk Rock singer João Gordo to this track, which is a celebrated artist in the country, who even ended up in some Nirvana gigs, back in the 1990s.

I personally got to know Bruno during a concert, and even watched him perform live. The dude is amazing, and you should give it a listen!

You can listen to this particular song on Spotify!

''October 31st is the Saci day!

Do not fool yourself my friend

Halloween is american, which is far away from Brazil

Trick or treat is your fucking mother!

Saci is the red cape warrior!

Saci is a mischievous boy!

The Pumpkin is already shitting itself

Don't fuck with Brazilian Folklore!'' -Some Lyrics from the song

This amazing artwork was provided by my great friend @atmaflare! Here we see the Saci having an argument with Jack O'Lantern, probably saying to him to stay away from his turf.

The comedic and critic nature of the song made it pretty popular at the time, and this canonically beef between the two creatures became somewhat common here. Still, both are dates are celebrated without any major incident!

Inside Brazil, Saci is also a major character of the amazing Netflix series ''Invisible City'' which is all about Brazilian Folklore, and supernatural occurrences in a life of a police officer in modern times. Give it a watch!

On Personal Notes

So, in this case the Saci comes from my home country and naturally i grew up with his tales of mischief and supernatural occurrences. In this sense, i have much more of a personal connection to my topic of study for this text, and so i can have my own verdict to it. It's natural for kids here to have contact with this mythical character. Or at least, it was when i was a kid in the early 2000s.

When i was little, the Saci was a particular mythological being that i feared. It was not that he was dangerous in a real sense of the way, but i rather not find it alone in the woods, or be bullied by him.

Still there was a grain of fascination by his figure, because there was the possibility to actually win against the Saci, taking his hat and making him do as our biding. And most of time, his mischief ended up as funny for kids.

Nowadays the Saci is still regarded as one of the most beloved folkloric tales of Brazil, inspiring newer generations of folklorists to protect and share the culture that they belong and grew up with, such as myself. For this reason, the Saci will always stay in the Brazilian collective consciousnesses, not only because of its supernatural powers, its haunting abilities surviving the current age, but also as a symbol of our own home in this planet.

As Camara Cascudo said in his book:

''Today the Devil that is inseparable from tales, from countryman conversations. Vague, haunting, unexpected, malicious, humorous (...) Now, diluted in the memory of those who does not have the spiritual age to fear it anymore.''

Sources and Bibliography:

1- Camara Cascudo: Geografia dos Mitos Brasileiros (Geography of Brazilian Myths)

2- Saci: Resultado de um Inquérito, Monteiro Lobato (Saci: An Inquiry Result)

3- Supersticiones y Lendas'', Juan B Ambrosetti.

4- Pigimeos en Leyendas de los Guarnies, F.C Maytzhusen

5- Natural History, Pliny the Elder

6- The Book of Yokai, Michael Dylan Foster (small Citation)