#musings: old habits die hard

[arcxnumvitae]

Name: Daileas Ròsach

Race: Unseelie fae

Contract holder. Money dealer. Overall fountain of charisma. A merchant with the gift of gab who prides himself on his ability to talk himself out of-- and into, any situation he wishes. Despite coming from a storied family, Daileas is technically not nobility-- a lack of titling that aided him in King Balmoral's purging of the noble class in Unseelie after his ascension to the throne.

Priding himself also on his ability to spot a good deal, Daileas saw the potential in a young upstart before he took the throne, and so decided to help finance the hopeful King Balmoral's campaign. He had hoped to hold the deal over Balmoral's head after he took the throne, but to his chagrin Balmoral immediately paid the debt.

Either way, Daileas has made himself into a rather difficult to remove thorn from the Beautiful Tyrant's side and is often the one offering his unsolicited advice when it might be the most annoying for the king. He knows King Balmoral would have had him dealt with long ago if he could. But it creates a rather difficult situation to remove the head of the very foundation of Unseelie's currency. That, and some other collateral Daileas has up his sleeve.

[jeyaam]

muehehe….style changes…

[ofsugarsandsilks]

Her leg was stopped by his swift guard, shin pressed firmly against his arms, taking the chance to use his position to move from him, stepping in a way to catch her balance. His arms were not exactly the softest place to land on, so a little impact ran through the lower half of her leg, circling her ankle for a moment, looking at him with a smile.

"Well of course. But also that would be too easy. Unless that's what you want? Though I do not particularly wish to harm you in such a way. I might almost feel bad if I gave you a swift kick to the crown jewels." Dot told him.

If she could just get away with throwing her weight around, she would, but he seemed to be able to easily withstand a full rush from her. Her hands clapped together and she hummed in thought before heading at him with a full-force rugby tackle.

"Nothing cheap in a fight as long as you win." Though he was impressed with her reaction time and how she was able to protect herself against his punch. He had to use some force to get his hand back from the substance, but it was what it was.

He waited to see what she was going to do next, not expecting the kick, or how fast it was. He used both arms in a cross guard to take the brunt of the hit, which caused him to be pushed back. Another flash of his eyes, a wide grin on his face.

"Besides, if you had the chance, I know you would go for a low blow shot, the weakness of anyone that has something hanging between their legs." He can be wrong about that, but it was more fighting banter than anything.

[afterglowsainz]

peace | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x singer!reader

summary: you have always been more famous than daniel and he was fine with that, until his career started going downhill

fc: taylor swift

warning: angst, mclaren daniel, mentions of crashing, some mean comments towards daniel

a/n: i changed a few lyrics from one of taylor’s songs (invisible string) just to make it make sense in the context (i'm not a songwriter so is not the best) also no hate to mclaren daniel! with the summary i do not mean at all that his career is ruined, is just for the dramatics

—

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yourusername old habits die hard 🎻🍂

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username mother back in the studiooo

username if this is not a new album y/n istg (liked by yourusername)

username SCREAMING CRYING FALLING TO MY KNEES AT WALMART

username serving face while recording

username i don’t know what vibes this is giving but it’s givingggg

username ofc i’m not getting my hopes up over a possible new album! ofc not!

username more happy songs about her and danny 😁

username WE CHEER

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motorsportcom 🚩RED FLAG DEPLOYED🚩FP2 session has been paused after Ricciardo hits the wall during corner 7. It’s still unclear if practice will resume.

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username this 😁 again 😁

username someone send him back to red bull 🙄

username well well are we surprised

username no way i stayed up late to watch this only for it to be suspended

username washed

username ugh perfect! just what he needed

username someone is doing witchcraft on this guy because there’s no way he’s this unlucky

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danielricciardo these past four years by your side have been the best of my life and i can’t wait for many more to come. happy anniversary love of my life, forever my y/n❤️‍🩹

tagged yourusername

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username STOP IT they’re too cute 😭

username that last pic might be the best photo i’ve ever seen

username no because they’re so perfect togetheeer

yourusername i love you❤️

danielricciardo ❤️

username she’s everything!

username and he’s there!

username who needs a job when your girlfriend looks like THAT 😮‍💨

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ynupdates y/n y/l/n won the ‘video of the year’ award at the vmas. on her speech she thanked the fans, her friends, her boyfriend daniel and she hinted some new music coming soon!

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username literally speechless at her look

username what did she say on her speech about daniel i’ve been looking for it but i can’t find it

username not verbatim cause i don’t remember exactly but it was something along the lines of “thank you for being the first one to listen to all my ideas and encourage me to dream about things bigger than myself and for being my muse in every sense of the word”

username she’s just killing it lately i’m obsessed! 💕

username congrats y/n! very well deserved award

username prettiest woman ever like look at that face

username she served too much cunt i’m afraid

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yourusername surprise you! my new single ‘invisible string’ is coming out tonight (and we filmed a video for it) 🪩

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username my favourite animal is me when y/n releases music

username INVISIBLE STRING THEORY???

username oh she ate with this one

bffusername on loop forever and ever

yourusername 💗

username this sound is so different … i love it!

username if this invisible string is not about her relationship with danny i-😩

danielricciardo going feral at that mv actually

yourusername 🤭

username DANIEL RICCIARDO CAN YOU FIGHT

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motorsportcom a red flag has been deployed after daniel ricciardo crashed in qualifying🚩session has been cancelled and the drivers will start the grid on sunday with the lap times the were able to achieve during the first three minutes of Q3

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username thank you ricciardo we all say in unison 🙄

username bro’s collecting red flags like pokemons

username someone bathe this man in palo santo or smth 😭

username you just gotta laugh at this point

username mate is sooo not getting a seat next year

username is a bit funny to see him struggle this much and then you look at his girlfriend and she’s in the most successful point of her career

username he sacrificed his own luck for his gf’s how romantic

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danielricciardo not my brightest weekend but there’s always opportunity to be better. excited for the next 🔜

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username “not my brightest weekend” my guy it hasn’t been your brightest SEASON

username “there’s always opportunity to be better” you’ve had like 30 ???

username he’s being delulu but honestly i respect it

username okay but how can you hate a face like that

username mate isn’t smiling anymore something is wrong 😭

username something has been wrong for a while…

username i actually think is time to think about retirement

username get that bag king!

username guys, and y/n??.

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entertainmenttonight y/n y/l/n and daniel ricciardo break up after four years of dating

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username NOOOOOO

username if i don’t see it is not real

username refusing to believe this

username WHAT.

username this sent me (a victorian child) into a comma

username now why would you post this😭

username i actually don’t believe in love anymore

username 💔💔💔

username WDYM they JUST celebrated their anniversary ???

username this is my villain origin story

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yourusername so … good news! i’ll be releasing my brand new album “folklore” tonight at midnight 🪩 this is an album i’ve been working on for the past year and that i poured my whole soul into. it was supposed to release a bit earlier, but we thought it wasn’t truly finished until now. i love you guys too much 🤍

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username OMG

username our prayers have been heard

username so i’m thinking she was going to release this before the breakup but when it happened she maybe wrote breakup songs and that’s why she pushed the release date

username GIRL

alexandrasaintmleux can’t wait! 💗 (liked by yourusername)

username album of the year already

oliviarodrigo and we all cheer in unison 🥳 (liked by yourusername)

sabrinacarpenter already bought the wine and the tissues (liked by yourusername)

gracieabrams no you don’t get it this is so special to me (liked by yourusername)

username all of y/n’s daughters in the comments 😭

username sabrina girl what do you know? 🤨

username lowkey miss daniel’s comments hyping her up :(

username no bc i’m so ready to know what happened between them

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danielricciardo tbt to the first race weekend with mclaren 🧡

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username okay sir i see you

username the only weekend where we were happy

username bro trying to distract us from the breakup by posting his smile

username my guy i just listen “peace” are you okay ???

username you’re stronger than me for listening till peace i wanted to k word myself after “the 1” and i’m not daniel

username the 1 was criminaaal

username exile …

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ynupdates y/n y/l/n last night on saturday night live singing her new song “peace” from her brand new album “folklore”. she algo sang her hit single “invisible string”

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username i cried with that performance

username she was singing that song with such sadness

username you’re telling me she was ready to marry daniel (and give him a child) and now they’re just not together anymore ???

username i gasped when i heard that line

username daniel will pay for his crimes istg

username he’s paying already 😭

username “would it be enough if i could never give you peace?” it was, in fact, not enough

username STOP YOURE DEPRESSING ME

username sorry i’m mourning this relationship too 😔

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danielricciardo if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

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[trashprinxe]

Let’s have a talk about malleability and TTRPGs

I come from a theatrical background. Did theatre for most of my life, majored in stage management, the works. Plays and the way they function are deeply embedded in my psyche.

So when I design and play games, I come from that theatrical framework.

Now — on the one hand, you have Shakespeare. Fairly universal stories, yeah? You can cut it up, switch things around, put it into a multitude of settings. And it still works! King Lear in space. Romeo & Juliet as pirates. The Scottish Play (old habits die hard) done avant-garde. It’s malleable!

On the other end, you have hyper-specific plays about hyper-specific themes. Angels in America. The Laramie Project. Venus in Furs. Etcetera. You can’t remove the core themes, change the setting, switch scenes around: without erasing the core intent of the work and the story it’s trying to tell.

And in the middle, you have plays that are somewhat malleable. Almost, Maine, for instance. It’s made up of vignettes; you can do only some of them, if you so choose. It’ll still have the same impact.

I believe TTRPGs exist on a similar spectrum.

You have systems that can accommodate many different genres or play styles. People play dnd this way. Pathfinder comes with pre built settings that run the gamut

PbtA games are hyperspecific. Monster of the Week is about, well, monsters of the week. Remove that, and you’re playing a different game.

Call of Cthulhu can be set in any time period, but you still have to be up against Eldritch horrors. If you’re able to fight the monster, that’s a different intent than the game was built for.

Lyric games are akin to 4.48 Psychosis (everyone should read that, by the way, it’s a master work of avant-garde theatre).

And so on and so on.

Nothing is better or worse than any other. It just exists, on a spectrum, in the same vein as playstyle or crunch do. Everyone has their preference.

But with any game, there comes a point where you’re no longer playing that game.

10 Things I Hate About You is not The Taming of the Shrew, though it were based on it. There’s a limit to even the most forgiving game to where you’re no longer playing that game, but something you and your table have created for yourselves.

You can’t take the queerness or religion out of Angels in America. That’s a different play altogether.

It’s a spectrum.

I choose to design in the specific. That’s what resonates with my brain. You may want to play something that’s capable of handling more universal narratives. That’s fine too!

But we can’t ignore the bones of the system, and it’s incorrect to say we’re putting on Hamlet, when we’re actually performing The Lion King.

So: the Theory of Malleability (working title).

I don’t have a great end to this. Just musings. But I hope it makes sense to you too.

[tooscaredtopostonmainrip]

Hi bbg can u write a reverse comfort with Lilia and Ruggie (comforting lilia + ruggie ) where they think the reader does NOT like them back because they’re always seen with another person so They confront them and turns out they like each other !! Basically it’s overall fluff + angst !!

a/n: MY FAVOURITE READER HAS ARRIVED ,.,,,,,, i MAY be biased. ANYWAYYYY HERE U GO ALSO IM SO SO SO SORRY I GOT WRITER'S BLOCK. IM EMBARRASSED OF MYSELF SORRRYRYRYYR --- ALSO ... I TWEAKED IT A LITTLE BIT TO FIT THE WAY I'D THINK IT WOULD GO, SO SORRY IF ITS NOT TO UR LIKING

CW; BOOK 7 SPOILERS IN LILIA'S PART (if you dont want to read it, skip the first and second paragraph!!!)

🦇 LILIA VANROUGE

Lilia never really had time for romance. Between the war and the constant paranoia of being on the receiving end of an ambush, he never let himself lower his walls - to truly form an intimate bond with somebody that wasn't immediate family.

Infact, during the war, falling in love was one of the worst things that could happen: It meant having an open weakness. And if that person never came back, you wouldn't have time to wallow in despair since they'd immediately call you next to the front lines. It was one of the worst things to happen to somebody, and Lilia, therefore, found no interest in bonding in such a way. It would be truly unwise, especially since he had to lead an army. He'd have to split his attention between the army and the partner of choice, and he wasn't gonna add to his workload just for fun.

Now, it's all different. Times have changed, and instead of worrying about whether you'll survive the day tomorrow and what you will eat, you worry if your homework is due today or tomorrow at midnight, and if the test's results are gonna be coming back soon. Yes, almost everything has changed, but Lilia never really let his past ways go. Old habits die hard, as they say. (Especially after Meleanor and Levan...)

Well, they did until he met you. Sure, it wasn't love at first sight - more like, interest at first sight. But with time, he truly did feel as though you were an old friend. With time, he started letting his walls down and truly enjoy life with somebody beside him.

Now, he knew of your little crush on him. Why? Well, it was quite obvious. The way you'd fidget when you were around him, or how your eyes seemed to shine when you saw him loitering around in your peripherals. Yes, it was quite obvious. But on the other side, his own affection was, on your end, left unnoticed. It was fun to flawlessly conceal his own beating heart and the blinding grin he'd let out whenever you gave him a compliment - while also, at the same time, giving you mixed signals. He'd have no hand in you later realizing he was a lot more buddy-buddy with blurred boundaries with you than others, even though he denied all allegations. The game of cat and mouse was just too amusing, and he wanted to keep it going for as long as he could.

Everything you did drew him in, and your sweetness left him wanting for more. In his old age, he didn't feel like he should indulge in this, but your honeyed smile and warm embrace held a tight grip on his heart, and so he relented. The heart wants what it wants, he'd say.

Well, for as long as he could, that's true. He knew it would have to end someday, but it would've been better on his own accord. Well, he'd muse. Guess the fun has to finish one day. And today's the day, as much as he may loathe it, somewhat.

Recently, you've been hanging out with someone. He didn't even bother remembering their name, as they were so unimportant he just didn't feel like even putting the minimal effort to put an identity to that face. He didn't want to be petty, but when the person's "hanging out" times bled into his own alone time with you, that truly did the trick. Behind a toothy smile hid a thin-veiled annoyance that stuck to him like tar and ink. It made his nose twitch in annoyance, but he quickly smoothed it all over and kept his composure. He'd let the person have their fun with you for a while, but if they overstepped they'd be done for.

But at the same time, he'd started doubting himself. If he were his past self, he'd be absolutely scandalized that he'd let himself stoop so low as to not trust his own instinct, and he was sure that you were still somewhat interested in him, but the way you kept spending time with that person, and the way you'd immediately stop everything and help them, and the way you'd share laughs with them almost like you did with him... It was getting increasingly harder to keep his calm. (he's in denial, he was never calm.)

Next course of action? Talk to you. For the first time in a while - he'd open up to you, and tell you what he truly felt. He didn't want to be the one to talk about this, but since the problem wasn't going away, he'd have to take drastic measures. At the time he was sure you did like him back, but now it was all up in the air due to that uninvited variable. Maybe he was still sour about the game you were playing with him having an early end. (No, he's sour about someone trying to steal you away. But he knew that very well.)

And that leads to... Right now. The wind seemed to be trying to soothe him, but his thoughts were entirely elsewhere. On another dimension, where he thought about the way you talked to him and the way you always seemed joyous with him. But... Maybe he read it wrong? He scoffed at his own insecurity, but in a silent, small part of his mind... He'd still think about it. No one can grow if they don't admit they're wrong once in a while, yeah? Even though he thought he did all the growth he needed in his youth. Guess there's always room for improvement.

His bat refined hearing immediately picked up on you jogging over to him, and he quickly went back to his bright persona, but unlike with others, it was a little more relaxed. Dare I say, more real.

Your beaming smile, and your soft demeanor made him feel a little less on edge, and he thought that maybe, it'd be alright. That you truly did see something in him. He loathed being so vulnerable, but this wasn't a war zone. You wouldn't mercilessly use him and his feelings, you weren't the kind of person to do that. So, he waited for you.

On your end, you were excited to see Lilia. With all the hanging around you did with your new lab partner you'd been randomly paired with, you hadn't had time to give him the attention you desperately wanted to give him. He wasn't used to you not spending every bit of your day with him, you'd joke to yourself. Maybe he will demand an explanation, with a dramatic flair, of course. He'd always had a penchant for the theatrics.

But the moment you stepped in front of him, you noticed... something, in his expression. Now, everyone who'd hear you say that would side eye you because, on what basis are you saying that? Well... The vibe was off. He wasn't as cheerful as usual, and with how long you've been talking with him, you knew a few of his tells. All of this, on what basis? Well, on a best friend basis, of course. Even though, you'd prefer a title more intimate... But that's something that no one will catch you dead saying.

"My dear bestie!" And thus, his theatrics ensued. You cringed a bit at his use of modern slang, but it was endearing nonetheless.

You chuckled a bit but still greeted him with a quick "Hi Lilia!", afterwards - addressing the elephant in the room. "What's up? Any news?" You inquired.

His grin beamed, and he played up his tone of voice, making it a bit exxagerated. "Oh there is something up!" You definitely agreed with him. Something was up. And it was something wrong.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"You left me alone for oh so long! You'd do that to a cutie like me?" Why was he being so weird?

You were a bit put off by him acting so weird. "Lilia, what's really up? Please tell me."

His face soured, and the thin curtains opened for a second. You saw how he was internally berating himself for something, and how he was truly annoyed. It was a mix and match of emotions that you didn't quite get, so you waited for Lilia to explain himself when he'd be comfortable doing so. The curtains closed, and his eyes kept boring holes into you.

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly okay!"

You bit your lip, and tilted your head slightly. "Come on, what's up?" You squinted your eyes, and he decided that enough was enough, no more games.

"Do you like your new friend?"

The question shocked you, but you didn't let it show. Looking at his face... It didn't seem like he was joking... What was the best course of action? You didnt know, but you decided to stall the conversation to understand what was going on.

Your question was probably futile, but you tried anyway. "As a friend?"

"You know what I meant."

You glanced around, and feeling a bit embarrassed you tried to reason with him. "Come on Lilia, I-" The cutoff was quick, and he immediately asked the question again.

"Do you?"

He wouldn't let it go if you didn't tell him the truth. And so, with a bit of red dusted on your cheeks, you answered his query.

"No, I don't."

The silence was overbearing, and the way Lilia studied you made you want to hide in a hole and forget all of this. But you soldiered on, keeping a brave face and waiting for his move.

His eyes seemed to light up after a while, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Why so tense?" His light chuckles helped to alleviate the tension in the air, but you still thought that maybe... It was time to pop the question.

Lilia would've never, ever seen that coming. "Now why would I answer that first? You first-"

"Do you like me?"

And with renewed courage, you answered.

"I do."

His shock shined through, and he dropped all notions of dancing around the topic. His jaw was almost ajar, and he looked at you like a newborn hearing the sounds of nature for the first time.

Then, his grin came back at full force. But this version... It was sweeter. Like a childhood blanket enveloping you. Or your favorite candy from your childhood.

"I love you too."

And with that, he held your hand and smiled at you, the best smile you'd ever seen. He didn't need to know who was near you all the time, because he knew your heart belonged to him. And so did his, to you.

BONUS

("I knew it! Never shall I doubt my instincts again!"

"Uh oh... Your ego grew 10x in size."

"You say that, but you're still here!"

"Yeah, I am <3" )

🦇

Being from the slums isn't for the weak hearted, to put it lightly. Falling in love was a luxury few could afford - while sharing meals with somebody and having more manpower sounded cool and all, you're never truly sure if the other will one day just up and go with all the stuff you've gathered. Ruggie never wanted to gamble when it came to his belongings, so he didn't take the risk during those times. When he came to Night Raven College, he still found no reason to fall in love, it wasn't like people would really lower their walls easily, and he didn't feel like putting all the effort in doing just that. Plus, everyone was all so slimy, and to love you'd have to also lower your own walls - no doubt they'd take advantage of him. Overall, not an advantageous position, so no way.

🐆 RUGGIE

That's what he used to think. You... changed his view, somewhat. Of course, he didn't fall immediately like some fairytale. Unlearning all his instincts would be a death wish, and that would've been an insult to every hyena and beastman that was from the streets - he just had a bit of interest. He knew the stakes, so he didn't try his luck too much.

You showed him kindness, a warmth that was rarely, if ever, genuine. You weren't a happy go lucky like those snobs from Royal Sword Academy, but you weren't exactly gloomy either. You were, different. You showed him a world he'd never dreamt of seeing, and you were way too in the role to be lying to him. Still, being cautious was never a wrong move.

To be honest, his first thoughts were to just use your kindness. He, at the time, held no hard feelings about taking advantage of you. Lets be real, he never expected someone to just blatantly give him some warmth and not be expecting him to not even have at least one thought about what he could do with that, and not in a nice way.

But you were clever. You didn't let him take any chances, and you didn't let him backstab you. You were always one step ahead, and to his attempts at stealing and using you? You didn't bat one eye. He should've been deterred, but... Why? why are you making him feel so protective over you? Was it a mishap during potionology? What's this... warmth?

With time, he began to begrudgingly accept your kindness as it is, with no catches. He didn't try to find any flaws in your walls, and didn't try to use you as much as before. Food was game, though. You couldn't delete that part of Ruggie even if you tried. It was hardwired into his skull since day one.

He was in constant denial of his feelings, escaping all confrontation inside and outside his mind, and living "blissfully unaware" until it came to bite him in the ass. And when did that happen? You guessed it. Today.

Not exactly today, your switch up happened a week or so ago. It was more like, his tolerance ended today.

Long story short? you began hanging out with this no name low rep student, and you ditched your (self proclaimed) best friend. Now that was the plot twist of the century!

Had you... began to think he's using you? Well, the food part is obvious. But he never used you in other aspects! Well... You didn't give him a chance to, but that's just details. And now he's so attached (hurts to say, but denial cant go any longer) so even if he uses you he doesnt know how'd that end on his side. Seeing you get all chummy with... that. hurt him more than he'd like to admit.

He wasn't sure if he should've talked to you and just upped and confessed, but he also reasoned that he'd lose the free food. (and something more.), so... he waited for a bit. And he waited. And waited...

Each day, he felt more and more high strung. What was that no good scum doing? Why was he hogging you all to himself? What was he planning? Now, you don't even come over at lunch and hang out with him while giving him some of your food. You just... Go and sit with that idiot.

That's it, he thought. He would tell you that he wasn't okay with you breaking your (made up) deal of giving him food. Using stupid excuses, of course. You'd see right through him, but he'd try anyway.

And then, came the fateful day. He texted you to come over, and you did. The classroom was empty when you arrived, other than the hyena beastman looking a bit nervous.

He looked at you and gave you his trademark grin, before breaking into an exasperated facade, shrugging his shoulders and acting like a parent with a child.

"Wow, have been so caught up hanging out with your newest 'friend' that you forgot about the original!" He found himself emphasizing the word 'friend' with a slight snark that'd be missed if you hadn't known him for so long. That immediately caught your attention, but to be sure, you let him speak to hear what he had to say.

Ruggie noted the silence and kept going, finding no reason to just make the conversation die already. "Listen, you can't go back on our deal-" "-I chose to give you food out of my free will-" "-and expect me to not say anything!" Cutting you off while talking was uncalled for, you'd think. But you didn't care all that much. This was pretty amusing.

His stance changed, and he furrowed his eyebrows while folding his left arm near his chest with a dramatic flair. "Gotta eat someway! How could you just leave poor ol' me to fend for myself? Did you realize how hungry I was?-" "-I saw you stealing food-" "-How could you be so cruel!" His ear twitched, and with time he realized he wasn't getting anywhere. You weren't buying it, as expected. But... You looked amused. He was glad you were enjoying yourself. Wait! Focus. He wanted to get rid of that person stealing you, and he got into the role so he had to see it to the end. Definitely not doing this for you to have fun, too.

"So, you wouldn't let your poor friend starve, right?" ... "Well, tell you what, I know a way to let you save me.

"Well, I cant."

What?

"What?" Inside his mind, he was panicking. Did he just lose his chance? He needed to keep a cool head. But... It was getting increasingly harder. Why? Why can't you?

"Come on... I know I don't have the best reputation, but give it some thought? Please?"

"Sorry, but can't." For now, at least. you thought.

He was getting more and more desperate, something new for him. He'd never been desperate for anything but food and money. Being desperate for a person? Now that was new. And he wasn't sure how to take it.

But right now, he knew that his friendship (gosh how he hoped for more...) with you might be in danger, and he had to find a way to keep you with him, and fast.

"Hey hey hey. What about, I give you 5% of all my income? pretty good odds, right?" His trademark grin would've persuaded you, if it hadn't a hidden side to it. He seemed nervous. You thought it was funny how desperate he was for the miniscule bits of free food.

"Not interested, again. Sorry, but can't really negotiate this."

His grin wavered, and his eyes kept looking at you, looking more and more weary and worried by the minute. "Hey. Think about it." His voice was about to crack, but that wouldn't have been very persuasive, wouldn't it?

Free food, huh. you thought. Why is he so adamant on this?

"Please." His pleading made you stop what you were thinking. What? That sounded way too real. Why?

"Why are you so insistent?"

"Because I love you!"

The silence in the room was overwhelming, and your shocked expression made him like he did the dumbest thing ever. Before he could say that it was a joke, you immediately replied.

"I love you too, Ruggie."

Another whiplash. He... Didn't expect to lash out like that.

"Funny joke. Real funny." His unbelieving gaze kept its place looking into your eyes, searching any tells of you lying. But... You didn't seem to be lying. His shock must've showed on his face, because you immediately rebutted.

"Ruggie, I love you. I truly do, I love all of you." Your gaze kept firm, and for the first time in a long time, Ruggie felt... Loved. Safe? It... was difficult to sift through and understand an emotion newly discovered. He never thought something like this would happen to him someday. He was still expecting you to get out a camera and say that it was all a joke. But as he waited, you... Didn't seem to have anything like that in mind.

He didn't cry, but you held his hand. And you promised to not leave him. And you told him that this wouldn't change anything, and that it's okay that he was jealous. It was weird for him, but he felt... Content.

Somehow, you made a hyena from the streets, one of the most elusive and mischievous species living on the streets, infatuated with you. Guess he did get a happy ending he never even dreamed of, huh?

BONUS

(Later that day, he found out that the person who led to all of this was actually a friend that was helping you set up a shop outside school so Ruggie could also work a bit at an honest job. Cue to him getting embarrassed and trying to brush it all off)

🐆

[monstrifex-art]

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.

[roosterforme]

Beer Boy and Sugar: The Second Lost Year (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Part of the Lost Years series for Beer Boy and Sugar

Warnings: language, longing, angst (series fits chronologically between Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time)

Banner by @mak-32

Year Two

Bradley dropped down on his bed and started to untie his boots while Nat looked around at everything on his desk. They were both about to start flying solo now, and it was such a relief that she was advancing in the program with him. It brought him a little bit of joy every time they left the others in the dust.

"I always liked this thing," she remarked, poking his Navy desk lamp as he set his boots under his bed. "You said it was your dad's, right?"

"Yeah. Makes it vintage," he replied with a grin as he lounged back on his pillows, already thinking about dinner in the mess hall. It was hot as hell outside, especially by Rhode Island standards, and it made him miss Virginia a little bit. "Are you ready for dinner?"

She groaned. "It's too hot to go outside and walk all the way to get food. Your air conditioner works better than mine, too. Can't we just stay in here?"

His stomach growled as he said, "All I got is some protein bars and instant mac and cheese. And I'm starving."

Nat started to poke at the book he was currently reading as she said, "I'll order us a pizza."

This was something he'd never get used to, even though he considered her his best friend. She always seemed to have money from her parents, and he had basically nothing. But she continually offered to share her food with him. Bradley wasn't exactly sure what he brought to this friendship, but she seemed to enjoy having him around, so he didn't bring it up.

"Fine," he agreed.

This seemed to make her happy as she fished her phone out of her pocket. "You want your usual topping choice?"

Bradley froze with his fingers pushed back in his messy hair. At first, he always ordered his pizza that way, because that's how you liked it. Now Nat thought it was his preference. But maybe it actually was?

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Please." 

Then he listened to her call it in while his thoughts drifted back to Virginia. He hadn't seen or heard from you in fourteen months, but he'd thought about you every single day. It hurt a little less now, but all the feelings were still there. He still looked at all the pictures he had saved on his phone. He thought about you when he touched himself. He still hadn't slept with anyone else since you.

"Why would you keep a differential equations notebook from UVA?" Nat mused, but he was barely listening to her as he thought about your body curled up against his while you wore his Grateful Dead shirt. "Did you even take advanced math?" 

When he finally registered what she said, he sat up in his bed and saw her holding your purple notebook. The one with all the doodles and love notes in the margins, and he felt like he was back in the study room with you on his lap. The breath was knocked from his lugs as a sheet of loose, folded paper fell onto her lap, and she picked it up and started to read it out loud.

"Dear Beer Boy, 

I'm bored in my calculus lecture, and I just started thinking about your bedroom door. It's still the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. Maybe you and I could wait until the middle of the night when all of your fraternity brothers are asleep and sneak out into the hallway and-"

Bradley lunged out of bed and grabbed the note from her hand before she could see the rest. "What the fuck, Nat? That's personal!"

Her dark brown eyes were as wide as saucers as she said, "That was from her."

He knew she was kind of mystified by you, given that he only shared details of the happiest months of his adult life sparingly. She always asked for more information when he mentioned you, always wanted to know more. But Bradley felt like the magic would wear off the more he talked about you, so he always kept it brief. He also knew he wasn't going to get away with saying nothing right now.

"Yeah," he grunted, taking the purple notebook from her hands and returning the folded note to the back pages. The sight of your handwriting filled him with a deep need for you. "And this was her notebook."

Nat's voice was gentle, as if she was trying not to spook him when she asked, "Why did she like your door so much?"

Bradley closed his eyes and laughed quietly. "I painted over all the other girls' names and phone numbers. For her. Or for myself. I don't really know anymore."

Now her eyes were narrowed when he looked at her again. "'All the other girls'. Holy shit, Bradshaw. Were you some sort of fuckboy in college?"

He leaned back against his pillows again as he groaned, "Basically." He didn't really like thinking about it, because that hadn't been him for a long time now. "Before Sugar."

She took her phone out again, and Bradley desperately wished the pizza would arrive so this conversation could end. But Nat asked, "What was her last name again? I want to know exactly what she looks like."

He whispered the word, loving the feel of it on his tongue as he took his own phone out. He located the picture of him with his arm around your shoulders that Dev took the week before graduation. Your smile was too pretty, and your face was too perfect. There was a reason he had to limit himself, and the onslaught of feelings was proof of why: He wasn't over you yet.

"Here," he muttered, stretching his arm out to hand his phone to Nat, but she gasped as she looked at her own phone.

"She's gorgeous. I found her Instagram account."

"You did?" he asked, launching himself off of the bed and forcefully switching phones with her. She gasped again as she looked at the photo on his phone, but Bradley was too busy staring at the tiny thumbnail of your smiling face. Your account was set to private, but this photo must have been more recent. Your hair was styled differently, and the only thing he could process was that he felt relieved you were posing alone instead of with some other guy. He didn't want to have to put a face to that.

He thought about taking a screenshot and texting it to himself, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. And when Nat asked if he wanted her to send you a friend request, he said absolutely not. "You think I want her to know I still think about her every day? No."

Then she said, "But maybe she still thinks about you." 

Bradley didn't see how that was a possibility.

The pizza finally arrived just then, and Nat stood to go get it. She gave him a cautious hug and said, "I think she would be proud of you." She left him alone with both phones in his hands, and somehow he knew it would be easier to talk about you now if he wanted to.

------------------------

It was mind blowing. Three months ago, Chicago was freezing cold and practically encased in ice. Now it was blazing hot to the point that you couldn't get any relief unless you were inside your dorm room. It was Friday, thank goodness. Everyone in your graduate studies group wanted to go out for deep dish pizza tonight, and you had to figure out a way to stop sweating long enough to actually get dressed in something other than the shorts and tank you were wearing now.

You groaned as you carried your computer and textbooks across campus in your backpack. You had the highest grades out of all of the math graduate students, but you still took everything with you everywhere in case you had some extra time to study. But you should have left everything in your room instead on this sweltering day.

The quad was packed with tables and students participating in a career fair, but for some reason, this was where Jared asked you to meet up. Four dates with him, and you still weren't convinced it was a good idea to take things out of the friend zone. Four dates, and you still didn't really want to do anything besides kiss him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him, he just wasn't exactly right.

"Hey!" 

As soon as you heard Jared calling out for you, your initial reaction was to hide. You were absolutely going to have to tell him you didn't want to see him anymore, and it mostly made you mad that it would probably disrupt your friend group. 

"Hi," you replied as he squeezed through the crowd to get to you. And then he slipped his sweaty hand in yours, and you actually cringed. Why wasn't this what you wanted? After nearly a year, he wore you down enough that you gave it a try, but this was decidedly bad. Especially since you could picture exactly what you did want.

When you looked up at Jared's face, your gaze drifted to your left. You gasped and dropped his hand immediately. There were recruiters from the Navy. They were wearing flight suits. You caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair and a flash of dark eyes, and you were off.

Jared was calling after you as you fought through the crowd, catching glimpses here and there of broad shoulders and a handsome smile. Oh my god, he was here. Somehow, he was here. Like he'd just climbed out of your dreams and into the University of Chicago campus. 

"Bradley!"

Your voice rang out, but he didn't fully turn your way. You rushed a little faster, no longer caring if you knocked someone into one of the tables. 

"Bradley!"

But you stumbled as you reached the recruiters, and your smile evaporated from your lips. Tears stung at your eyes as he turned to face you, leaving your heart filled with disappointment. 

"Hey, there. I'm Lieutenant Chapman," he said with a grin, and you honestly didn't know how you could have been mistaken. His eyes were hazel, and his hair was too curly, and now you were standing there feeling like you'd just broken your own heart all over again. The disappointment could smother you if you let it.

You nodded and turned away as sweat dripped down your chest and an awful feeling settled into your stomach. You made your way back through the crowd at a much slower pace with no real desire to talk to Jared, but you reached him all too soon.

"What happened?" he asked, grabbing your hand again.

You looked at the ground and tried to hide your tears as he squeezed your hand tighter. "Sorry. I thought I saw an old friend."

He just made an impatient noise and asked, "You ready to go get changed and grab some pizza with everyone else? I thought we could ditch them early and maybe go back to my room and watch a movie? And like hang out... on my bed?"

His voice was distressingly hopeful. You wanted to say no. You knew you should. But you kept your eyes fixed on the ground as you said, "Sounds good," with almost no conviction. You wanted to get past this, so you needed to actually start trying.

-----------------------

Make it stop hurting. Or don't. I don't know. They must both already know they belong together. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the rest of this series!

@beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @sorchathered @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @shanimallina87 @sylviebell @wkndwlff @horseslovers2016 @sadpetalsstuff @schoollover @jessicab1991 @lex-winchester @bellaireland1981 @sagittarius-flowerchild @marvelouslyme96 @trickphotography2 @goldenseresinretriever @rascallyrascals @auroracaroline @nerdgirljen @redbarn1995 @theweekndhistorybook @averyhotchner @moon42flight @eli2447 @lyn-js @na-ta-sh-aa @mygyn @je-suis-prest-rachel @kcloveswrestling @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @callsign-magnolia @eternalsams @lynnestra44 @shinzowosasageyoooo @tgmreader @princessofglitterland @backupbrii @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @averyhotchner @hookslove1592 @callsigns-haze

[0ciestiel0]

Brilliant Minds episode 8 is maybe my new favorite thing. Here are my musings:

Wolf and Nichols acting like horny teenagers was so fun and funny at the same time. Like you’re two grown adults both with a whole ass office to lock the damn door.

No but I loved all their scenes. And I’m happy their little drama didn’t last long and Wolf didn’t let Nichols end things before they started cuz his mother scared him. They had me worried for a moment after Nichols was all let’s be coworkers. You could tell he didn’t actually want that. He kind of looked like he wanted Wolf to fight him on it and he looked sad when he didn’t. So I’m glad Wolf figured it out.

But also when Wolf thought Nichols came to his office to pick up where they left off in the elevator and he says lock the door this time I can only handle my mother walking in on me so many times. How many times has that happened Wolf?? That implies way more than just the elevator today??

I love the little banter they have eating takeout. Wolf coming for him cuz he wasn’t using chopsticks. It’s very practical of Nichols to say he can use chopsticks but he prefers the efficiency of the fork.

Also Josh was so humble. Wolf is all another miracle by Dr. Nichols and he just kinda looks all….like this isn’t about me. Very demure, very mindful. But in all seriousness I like they started off in ep one making him seem a little god complex surgeon stereotype but as we got to know him more we see he’s nothing like that. And actually quite humble for a surgeon.

It was adorable how Nichols stands all military-like after they get caught in the elevator. Probably old habits die hard but Wolf was all embarrassed and oh hell no not again Nichols is all reflexive military stance with a hint of dear god don’t fire me.

Also Josh “I can be intimidating” Nichols. Show me cuz all I’ve seen is flirty surgeon. No but please do I’d love to see intimidating Nichols.

Wolf has good taste in men. That college bro he kissed was also quite fine.

Boy do I have words for Wolf’s mother. I get some of her point like seeing the AIDS crisis probably would make her afraid for Wolf at the time but also like Wolf says she was his mother she still should have talked to him. And my heart was breaking for Wolf as he talked and got all that out about how he felt, like he did something wrong. Like no Wolf, you did nothing wrong 😭 you’re a perfect little cinnamon roll.

“I didn’t need protection, I needed love.” 😭

Also Wolf’s face when Nichols says more like 60/40 was priceless. It was giving you are betting against us? But then his face lights up when he says you’ve proven me wrong before. And that little Nichols smile temporarily fixed my anger at Wolf’s mother.

While I want Van and Ericka to work I’m concerned they will make this love triangle into a bigger drama. And she will end up with Jacob or have a thing with him yet.

The case of the episode was also a ride. Extra points for Susan Bay Nimoy and the nods to Leonard Nimoy and Spock.

[bhaalbaaby]

Title: Star Stained Eyes Like Flames (2434 words) Pairing: gale/reader Warnings: nsfw, magic sex, gn!reader A/N: was thinking about mage hands and enchanted underwear and got carried away. tried to make the reader more gender-neutral :")

Read on AO3!

Gale is particular about his undergarments and won't let you wash them. You don't ask questions as it's one less thing for you to take care of during your rest. Blood is hard to get out of armor, but you try your damnedest. You don't want to walk around with the blood of your enemies stinking on your skin. People in the wilderness probably wouldn't care, but you do.

As you gather everyone's clothes, you approach Gale's tent. He's reading a book, his regular clothes already on, and himself already bathed. You see his mage hand is at work washing his other clothes, among them his special purple underwear. 

"No need for your assistance today, my friend," Gale says as he closes his book. "I do appreciate your hard work, however."

You smile as you nod, "Good to know. I do have a question." You let your curiosity get the best of you, the question on your mind anyway. Gale smiles back, putting his book away as he leans forward, eagerly waiting. "Always here for you."

You wonder if he thinks you're going to ask about his magical ability to do his chores and if he could teach you. How mistaken he is. "Why won't you let me wash your underwear?"

His eyebrow raises as he rapidly blinks, his mouth suddenly dry. His tongue swipes his lips quickly as he shakes his head. "It is not a slight at your handiwork, (Y/N). Quite the opposite." He raises his hand, a shy smile coming to his lips. "Let's just say old habits die hard. Used to do my own back at my Tower in Waterdeep."

Old habits, eh? You don't believe him, examining his posture. "Did you enchant them?" The question leaves your mouth before you realize what you're asking.

Was Gale that lonely? Did he really do that? You know Wizards were crafty with their magic but for pleasure? It never crosses your mind until he acts so weird about them. The others let you wash their clothes without a question, with nothing to hide. It's the only thing you can think of that he'd be embarrassed about. What if you washed the magic away accidentally and he, Gods forbid, has to wear underwear without being aroused?

The idea amuses you as you see his cheeks immediately turn red. "(Y/N)! Why would you even think that?!"

You don't have to answer, his reply giving it away. "Would you enchant mine?" You ask with a cheeky smile, thinking about phantom touches between your thighs, coaxing you closer and closer, the messes you would need to clean later.

Gale clears his throat as he shakes his head. "No! I will not. That is forbidden magic." It's a lie, but you don't press him, seeing the slight tenting in his pants. His tunic covers the majority as he shifts. "I see," you say, nodding, lifting the basket higher. "Well, if you need any help with your... Enchantments... I may be willing to assist." You tease as you walk away, imagining the underwear activates, helping relieve himself.

When nighttime comes, Gale comes to your tent. You're outside of it tonight, mostly watching the sky. The stars are bright tonight, and everything feels like it will be okay. The tadpole in your mind is quiet, no calls for the Absolute. You stand when he approaches, his hands behind his back. "Hello, (Y/N). I've been thinking."

The corners of your mouth perk up, a smirk on your lips. He's always thinking, but you wonder if your comments spark something more carnal that even his enchantments can't handle. "Go on," You say, crossing your arms.

He clears his throat. "I can enchant your undergarments, but I do not wish for the others to know."

Your eyes dance, "I won't tell. I just want to know how it feels is all. It must make things more intense." You muse as you let your eyes drop to his groin.

He steps away, taking a deep breath. "It's on command. It's not random." Gale explains, his voice lowering. "I can explain more, not here. Not with eavesdropping ears." He offers his hand to you.

You glance around at your companions who have either disappeared into their tents or are busy with their things. You take his hand, wondering where he'll take you. "Lead the way then."

In the clearing, he relaxes. "It's a simple spell. I learned it back in school from older kids when the teacher wasn't looking." Gale starts and waves his hands as he talks. You rest against a tree, listening. "Juvenile, but comes in handy when you're alone and need something more than your... hands."

In the darkness, you can make out that he's nervous speaking about this. "You don't have to tell me Gale." You say, not wanting him to do it just because you teased him.

He scoffs, "I want to tell you. You and I will be on this journey to defeat the Absolute for a little while and I know it can get frustrating being so pent up and no relief."

You smile, shrugging. "There's Lae'zel... And maybe even Astarion." You tease again standing with your legs more apart.

His eyes drop to between your thighs and he whispers something you can't make out. It's soft touches at first on your inner thighs, gently caressing to your pelvis, ignoring the parts of you that need it most. You gasp as you keep your legs apart, your feet planted in the ground.

"And there's Gale." He adds out loud, stepping closer as his enchantment goes over your groin, your heart skipping beats. You curse under your breath as you nod, looking over at him.

"Shall I continue or do you wish for it to stop?" He asks, still not physically touching you.

"C-can I control yours?" You ask, rolling your hips with his phantom touch, swelling in the magic.

Gale chuckles as he continues, rubbing you off. Your legs tremble as you close your eyes, feeling him getting closer. "I much rather have the real thing," He whispers in your ear. You close your eyes, letting your hands rub against his cock. He groans in your ear as his enchantment intensifies, the touch feeling so real. Your legs squeeze together as you start to pant, breathing quickening. You lean up, pressing your lips against his. His kiss is quick as he pulls again, grinding against your thigh. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting to have him pressed against the magic between your thighs. 

You rest your head on your hand as you try to quiet your moans, the caresses bringing you so close, but you need a release. There is only so much the underwear can do. You let go of him, peeling your pants down.

You get on your knees, tugging his pants down. His enchantment stops momentarily as if short-circuiting as you slowly pull his cock out. You smile up at him as you see his chest rise and fall faster. Your tongue runs along his thick length, lapping at the extra skin around his tip that peeks out. You open your mouth, slowly taking his cock down as far as you can. He grunts, as you feel the enchantment massage your ass, the fingers finding your hole and gently prodding.

Your eyes open as your moans are muffled around him. You didn't think they could do that, but you welcome the change as you rock your hips trying to match your mouth pace to his thrusts. He holds on to the tree behind you, his hair falling forward over his face.

"(Y/N)..." He moans as he watches your mouth around his stiff member. You pull your mouth off, stroking him as you squirm, the enchanted fingers thrusting so quickly inside and vibrating. "Yes, Gale?" You ask, whimpering, bringing his cock back to your hungry lips. He groans as he tosses his head back, his hand slipping to your hair, pressing his cock deeper.

You gag slightly as his thrusts feel thicker between your thighs, leaving you slick, pooling in the underwear. "I want to fuck you hard. Now." His voice cracks as he continues to fuck your mouth.

You wonder if he's using the enchantment to fuck you with his pseudo cock as your whines are muffled. It's too thick to be fingers, filling you just like you imagine he would. You pull your mouth off again, nodding, "Please."

The enchantments suddenly end as he conjures up a small bed next to the tree. You hope he's not overextending himself with the magic as you pull your top off, tossing your ruined underwear to the side. He does the same as you lie back on the bed. It feels real, you think as he climbs on top of you.

"Thank you for indulging me (Y/N)," He whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You feel his cock resting on your belly, hot and stiff. "No, thank you," You whisper back, as he rests back on his knees. His cock feels much better than the imitation, stretching you again, but a thousand times better. You writhe under him as he slowly thrusts in.

He grunts as he leans back down, holding your chin between his fingers, forcing eye contact. You gaze into his dark brown eyes as your brows knit together, your mind growing blank as you clench around him. He moans, picking up his pace. "Gods, you're perfect (Y/N)."

You close your eyes, wrapping your legs around him as he pounds you into the mattress. You're already close to overstimulation from the enchantment as the way he rolls his hips only drives you more insane. You pant as your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him close again. He kisses you, this time with more passion, his tongue running along your bottom lip. His beard scratches your chin as you adjust, until you open your mouth a bit more, letting your tongue intertwine with his own.

He pulls away after a moment, staring down at you. "I-I'm sorry if that was..."

You shut him up bringing him closer as he picks up his speed. "Like that, Gale. Please... Like that." You moan, your fingers playing with the ends of his wavy hair. He doesn't say anything more about his kisses, paying attention to what your body says.

"I'm getting so close, (Y/N)... I don't think I can for much longer."

You mewl as you reach behind you, gripping the pillow behind your head. He watches your face as you try to make yourself cum with him. His tip feels so engorged inside of you as he continues to pound into you, sending waves of pleasure to your brain. He says something under his breath again, phantom touches come to your chest, hands and mouths on your nipples. Your breathing hitches as you wrap your legs around him tighter.

Cheater, you think as the phantom's tongue rolls around your sensitive nipple, the hand massaging the other. You feel another hand as Gales sits up, still keeping his pace, rubbing against your sensitive button.

"Fuck, Gale!" You cry out as you hide your face in the crook of your elbow, your stomach tensing.

"Come with me, please." He begs, feeling so overstimulated from all the touches everywhere. He doesn't have to ask twice as you gush around his cock, shuddering as your legs try to close him out. He pulls out just in time, his groan so loud as he lets his magic rub him off, finishing on your stomach and thighs. The mouth and fingers don't stop on your chest, keeping your nerves heightened.

You whimper as you close your eyes, slowly coming down from your high, the phantoms disappearing slowly. He lies beside you, his breathing hard. You turn to him, kissing him passionately, your hands resting on his stubbled cheek as you pull him closer. He smiles as you pull away, his pupils blown.

"That was... Amazing," He whispers. You nod as you wrap your leg around his waist. He rests his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing your skin.

"Yes, it was... You can enchant my underwear whenever, Gale." You say softly, watching his face.

"Oh?" His brows raise and you can tell he's blushing. "It wasn't weird?"

You shake your head as you prop yourself up on your elbow. "I loved it. It was very erotic." You say, imagining him enchanting your underwear when you're alone in your tent, making you cum over and over again while you try to stay quiet.

He clears his throat as he turns to face you, "Maybe another night, but I think I still prefer when I give you pleasure with my actual form." He states.

You nod as you scoot closer, "I do too. Real Gale is very fun and very sexy."

His blush travels to his neck at your teasing as he gently pats your thigh. "Fun I am. Sexy... You flatter me much, (Y/N)..." He sits up, quickly pecking your lips. "And as much fun this was, we better return to camp before anyone comes looking for us."

You grimace as you move your leg off him. He's right, unfortunately. "We'll have plenty of times in the future." You say with a warm smile as you reach for your clothes.

Gale pauses a look of shock on his face. "Are you sure you want to continue with me?" You raise your eyebrow as you pull your shirt back on, getting off the magical bed. It poofs as soon as you stand.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He gestures towards the camp as he frowns. "What about the others?" You laugh lightly as you decide not to wear your ruined underwear.

"What about them?" You retort, pulling your pants on.

His face is serious as he steps closer to you, his hands resting on your waist. "If you choose me, I want to be your only lover. I'm quite fond of you, (Y/N). I want to get to know you better."

Your eyes sparkle as you nod, "I'd like that a lot, Gale." He blinks as if expecting you to choose someone else over him. "I want to be with you, Gale." You repeat, gazing into his dumbfounded eyes.

He slowly smiles as he bows his head, trying to contain his excitement. "(Y/N)... You are full of surprises. There is nothing that I wanted more than to hear you say that, my love," He pulls you closer, the kiss full of promise. 

[chickenkurage]

Old habits, die hard (Teen Alan AU)

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Alan still has the habit of overworking himself to the point of passing out, thankfully the hollowheads catch up on what he was doing, with Second accidentally managing to find a way to open Alan’s camera and find him sleeping on the desk again looking worse for wear.

Tag: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Overworking, Health Issues, Humor, and Comedy

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“This is... uh, embarrassing,” Alan admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment as Jennifer inspected the broken wheel of his chair. “What even happened, Alan? This is the only swivel chair we've got in the house. I don't think I can buy a new one at the moment,” Jennifer said, her brow furrowed as she knelt beside the chair, examining the damage.

“Tried taking out the cobwebs from my ceiling... I fell,” Alan confessed, his cheeks reddening as he rubbed the back of his head. “Goodness! Are you okay?” Jennifer inquired, moving closer to Alan and checking his arm and back for any signs of injury.

“I'm fine, my back hurts a little, but I'm good! I promise,” Alan assured, a slight pout on his face. “I'm sorry, Mom. I know you got me this chair... I didn't mean to break it,” he added, feeling genuinely apologetic.

Jennifer's expression softened as she placed a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder. “It's alright, accidents happen. Your well-being is more important than any chair. We'll figure something out,” she reassured him, offering a warm smile.

"It's old anyway. How about in the meantime, you use one of the chairs from the kitchen? Until maybe I can buy you a new one,” Jennifer suggested, her hand gently rubbing her chin in thought.

“Huh?! No, it's fine... I-I can use the kitchen chair. It's okay if it's not like this one,” Alan replied, a hint of discomfort evident in his frown as he considered the alternative.

“Really? The kitchen chair isn't exactly comfortable, and your back might start hurting if you use it for a long time. And knowing you... you'll definitely be glued to your seat,” Jennifer teased playfully, a mischievous grin on her face.

Alan pouted in response. “No, I don't! I go out with DJ daily,” he protested.

Jennifer raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly skeptical as her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Blushing slightly, Alan ducked his head. “Okay, maybe not every day, but every weekend! I don't sit around all the time. I take walks... usually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alan, how many times do I have to remind you that you need to take care of yourself better? I know you're already 15, 5 more years and you're a grown man! You probably don't even need me now,” Jennifer said, crossing her arms with a mix of concern and affection.

“I'm just saying, please take care of yourself more. Look at you, you look thin! And pale!” Jennifer remarked, grabbing Alan's face and squeezing his cheeks. “Mommm,” Alan whined playfully as Jennifer continued to squish his face with a chuckle.

“Alan, just do what I tell you, okay? Take good care of yourself. I trust you,” Jennifer said, emphasizing the importance of self-care before giving Alan's cheek one last gentle squeeze. “Mommmmm,” Alan protested again, though this time with a hint of laughter as Jennifer stepped back.

“I'll see if a friend of mine can fix your chair so you don't have to use the kitchen chair, how about that?” Jennifer suggested, turning back to the swivel chair Alan had. “Sure, I think that's much better,” Alan replied with a small smile.

[♡]

Alan did in fact not follow what his mother had said….

“Alan… psst, wake up! Lecture's over,” James shook Alan's shoulder, causing him to flinch and his eyes to open in panic. “Wha! Dark!” Alan sputtered, causing James to look at him weirdly before glancing around the room. “It's not dark here,” James mused, puzzled by Alan's reaction, and then looked back down at Alan, who sniffed, his nose slightly runny.

“Did I fall asleep through the whole lecture?” Alan asked, wide-eyed as he took in the empty room, devoid of students or the professor.

James nodded, “Yeah, man, you slept through the entire 3-hour class. That's crazy.”

Alan grabbed his hair in panic. “And you didn't wake me up?! Wh-What!? Tell me you wrote down notes for this lecture,” Alan said, cupping both of his hands together in a pleading gesture.

“Yeah, dude, I can lend you mine,” James said, opening his bag and handing Alan his binder. “ Oh, Christ, why did I even sleep through the whole thing,” Alan groaned, running a hand over his face in dismay.

“Honestly, you look worse for wear, Alan, and that’s saying something. You look even worse than last week,” James exclaimed, taking note of Alan's eye bags and slightly red nose from his frequent rubbing.

Alan shot him a seething glare, snatching the binder from James' hands. “Gee, thanks, James,” Alan grumbled under his breath.

“Anyways, I'm also done with my part in the animation project that we have to pass next week,” James added, placing a hand on his waist in a relaxed stance.

“That’s already next week? I haven’t even started yet,” Alan said, pushing himself up from his seat, only to pause when his vision suddenly blurred.

James quickly placed a hand on Alan's shoulder to steady him. “It’s next weekend. I mean, you should rest for now, Alan. You look really sick,” James frowned, concern evident in his voice as Alan instinctively placed a hand on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of notes to write down. Can't you believe it? 500 slides for a 10-item quiz this Friday,” Alan whined, shoving the binder into his bag and pulling out a tissue to blow his nose.

“It’s Monday, Alan. You can review some slides tomorrow. Go to sleep, man,” James advised, crossing his arms as he observed Alan rubbing his tired eyes.

“I know, I know. I can do it. I’m not dying,” Alan retorted, rolling his eyes as he zipped up his bag and turned to James. “We've got no class tomorrow. Just get some rest, dude,” James insisted as he followed after Alan, who stumbled out of the room.

“Mmm, yeah, yeah,” Alan mumbled wearily, prompting James to shake his head in disappointment. “One day, Alan, I swear, one day you're gonna regret pushing yourself so much,” James remarked, while Alan waved him off and headed in a different direction to catch a bus.

“See ya, James,” Alan bid farewell tiredly as James watched him stumble away with a frown, shaking his head at his friend's stubbornness. 

By the time Alan reached home, Jennifer was not around, leaving him alone in the house.

“Nhhh,” Alan groaned, attempting to stretch his left arm to relieve the ache. His stomach grumbled, prompting him to walk over to the fridge. He let out a sigh upon finding it empty. “Ugh,” Alan muttered, lightly knocking his head on the top of the fridge, causing him to rub it in frustration.

“I’ll just wait for dinner,” Alan mumbled to himself, closing the fridge and trudging up the stairs to his room.

Upon opening the door, he surveyed his messy room. "Right, I forgot to clean my room," Alan mumbled, kicking a dirty shirt towards the hamper.

He threw his bag on his bed, retrieved James' binder, notebook, and pen, then settled in his chair, wincing slightly at its discomfort before powering up his PC.

As he waited for it to boot up, he began copying James’ notes. “Tsk,” Alan clicked his tongue, shaking his right hand, feeling his wrist ache. “Not again,” he mumbled,  before glancing up at his screen displaying Second and the skittle gang lounging on the sofa.

Alan chuckled softly before reaching for his earphones tucked beside his desk.

“Hey guys” Alan said, causing Second to sit up excitedly and wave his direction. Alan waved back in response before chuckling when he remembers that Second can’t exactly see him.

“Alan! You’re back home from school?” Second asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Mmm, I've got some stuff to do, but I'm here to listen if you've got some stories to share about what happened while I was gone,” Alan replied, glancing back down at his notebook and continuing to jot down notes despite the painful ache in his right hand.

“Oh well… there’s nothing that exciting that happened, I think,” Second said, tapping his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“That's a lie. I think you all are some sort of danger magnet. Surely something must have happened while I was gone,” Alan chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Wha?! No way!” Second spluttered in embarrassment, waving his arms defensively. Behind him, Green and Yellow chuckled, their shoulders shaking before returning to their own activities.

“Okayyy,” Alan drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to write,

“Trust me!... Anyways, Vic, Cho, and Dark are coming by,” Second said excitedly, hopping with anticipation. Alan shifted his focus back to the screen, a grin spreading across his face.

“Really?! Great!” Alan exclaimed, already looking forward to chatting with the three, who led lives in the... whatever they called it, the outernet?

“But if you're really busy, they can come by tomorrow if you want,” Second suggested, tilting his head curiously.

Alan's eyes widened as he glanced at the list of tasks he had written on his wrist. “Uhhh, totally not busy, don’t worry,” Alan lied through his teeth, chuckling awkwardly. 

“Really? I kind of thought you would be very busy. Then again, I kind of don’t understand how schools work,” Second said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oh, Sec, don’t worry, I seriously am free today, uhm... even right now!” Alan winced at his unintentionally high-pitched voice as he watched Second excitedly hop and open the animation program application.

 “Great! We can animate while we wait for them!” Second clapped enthusiastically as Alan pushed his notebook to the side of his desk.

“Totally,” Alan agreed, pulling his keyboard and drawing tablet closer.

[♡]

“A–Achoo!” Alan sneezed, followed by a sniffle as he reached for another tissue to blow his nose. Glancing at the clock in the bottom left corner of his screen, he noted the time: 3:00 AM.

“Ugh, this is my fault. I should've started earlier,” Alan muttered to himself, pulling his lamp closer to his notebook and bending down to continue writing, his back and wrist protesting with aches.

“Not like I could say no to them, though,” Alan mumbled as he finished jotting down the last of the notes he had missed earlier. Closing James’ binder, he shoved it back into his bag and refocused on his screen.

The empty sofa caught his eye before he opened his personal files and the slides that required more detailed note-taking. “Great… more writing,” Alan grumbled, rubbing his eyes and sniffling, his nose running again.

He groaned in response, balling up a tissue and pressing it inside his nose, blocking it completely.

“Nnh,” Alan grunted, rubbing his wrist, feeling the numbness creeping in. Typically, at this point, he would rest his wrist and resume the work the next day. 

However, with 500 slides looming ahead, he knew he had to push through and start his work now, understanding that his penchant for procrastination could hinder his progress if he delayed any further.

Alan turned his focus back to the bottom left of his screen. “4:00 AM, then I rest,” Alan mumbled to himself before returning to the slides, hastily jotting down his notes, still ignoring the persistent ache in his wrist.

Lost in a trance, time seemed to slip away unnoticed, and before he knew it, he found himself suddenly jolting awake, his face meeting the hard surface of his desk with a resounding thud. “Achk!” Alan yelped in surprise, instinctively holding his nose where the tissue had slipped off during his unintended slumber.

“Oh no, di-did I fall asleep?” Alan mumbled, his eyes widening as he glanced at the time displayed on his screen—it was already 5 AM in the morning.

He blinked in disbelief before looking down at his notes, realizing that he had managed to cover almost half of the material, despite not recalling how he had drifted off to sleep.

“Did I fall asleep sitting up?” Alan mumbled to himself drowsily, his nose feeling runny again as he grabbed another tissue to stifle the sniffles, then retrieved the pen that had rolled under his desk.

“Khk,” Alan groaned, his aching wrist causing him to flinch, inadvertently hitting his head under the table. “Ah, dammit,” he cursed, retrieving the pen with his left hand and placing it back on the table, rubbing his head in discomfort.

“Alan? You’re awake early,” Chosen said, suddenly appearing at the side of his screen, looking like he had just woken up. “Huh? Yeah,” Alan replied, picking up his pen, wincing slightly as his right hand protested. “I thought you don’t have classes on Tuesday?” Chosen inquired, walking over to the sofa and flopping down with a sigh.

“I don’t, but I need to, uhmm–” Alan trailed off, his mind momentarily blanking for no apparent reason.

He noticed Chosen tilting his head, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, yeah, I have a quiz, sorry I forgot the word,” Alan said, rubbing his head embarrassedly.

“Oh, I understand. You can continue; I’ll watch over here and wait for the others to wake up,” Chosen said, waving a hand lazily.

“Mmm,” Alan hummed tiredly, refocusing on the PowerPoint and continuing his notes, mumbling to himself intermittently. However, at some point, his vision began to darken at the edges, prompting him to release his pen and bury his face in his hands.

“Ughhh,” Alan groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Chosen asked, still observing him from the couch, though he had reclined and inadvertently dozed off while watching Alan's cursor move around the slides. He woke up to Alan groaning, feeling slightly concerned upon hearing Alan's sniffles and a more congested tone in his voice.

“N-nothing, it’s just that I'm only on the 332nd slide,” Alan said with a groan, punctuating his response with a yawn.

Chosen felt a hint of suspicion creeping up his back.

“Alan… did you even sleep?” Chosen suddenly asked, sitting up from the couch and crossing his arms disapprovingly.

“Oh, uhm, uh, haha, I-I did? I took a nap,” Alan said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t tell me the nap is on the desk,” Chosen said, disappointment evident in his tone as he heard Alan emit a small ‘eep.’

“Alan, go to sleep. You need rest,” Chosen remarked firmly, noticing Alan's audible groans and sniffling, along with the faint sound of him removing his earphones to blow his nose away from the mic.

“Just a bit more, th-then I'll sleep,” Alan muttered, determined to finish a few more slides as Chosen shook his head in disappointment.

Alan frowned, feeling embarrassed and slightly hurt as he gazed at Chosen. While Chosen doesn't have a face, his body language spoke volumes, arms crossed and an air of disappointment palpable in his posture.

Alan despised disappointing people, and the weight of Chosen's disappointment weighed heavily on him.

“Okay, I’ll rest!” Alan said, raising his arms in defeat, the throbbing in his right arm now insistent. Chosen gave him a firm nod, “Good, come back when you’re well-rested.”

Alan couldn't help but roll his eyes at Chosen's directive as he removed his earphones and made his way to his bed. Shoving his bag to the corner, he collapsed onto his unmade mattress. “Just for a few hours,” Alan mumbled to himself as he curled up on his side, closing his eyes.

However, he soon found his respite interrupted by the uncomfortable ache in his back and right arm. “Ugh, just my luck,” Alan grumbled, sitting up and making his way to his drawers in search of pain relief patches to alleviate the discomfort.

Thankfully, he found a few and carefully placed two on his lower back for good measure, along with one on his forehead to help him rest more comfortably. Despite his efforts, his mind raced with thoughts of work left undone, making it challenging to relax.

Frustrated, Alan rubbed his face wearily, glancing at his screen to find that Chosen had already left, likely back in the folder where the houses were stored.

“Just a few more minutes, I need to finish the slides and then a few commissions,” Alan mumbled to himself, rushing to his bed and bending down to retrieve the wrist brace he had accidentally kicked under the bed before settling back into his chair.

He swiftly strapped the brace onto his right wrist, tightening it for good measure before grasping his pen, ensuring he could still maneuver his hand. Though slightly uncomfortable, wearing the brace affected his writing, but he felt compelled to complete his tasks before even considering rest.

And so, that's what he did. Alan finished all his slides and transitioned to his animation project, his tired eyes struggling to focus on the time displayed on his screen—it was already 8 AM, and he was still engrossed in sketching. Nothing was finalized yet; perhaps he had grown too reliant on seeking help from Second.

“Good morning, Alan!” Second beamed, skipping down his desktop joyfully.

“Hey, Sec, mind if I ask for some help for a few moments?” Alan inquired, tapping his pen wearily against his cheek, refusing to pause his work even though every time he closed his eyes, they burned with fatigue.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Is this a commission or something?” Second asked, climbing up the animation program and grabbing his own pencil.

Alan only hummed tiredly, not fully registering Second's question as he continued with his work.

Second tilted his head curiously, “Alan? Yahoo, I'm asking something.” Second waved his hands, prompting Alan to blink owlishly. “Ah, sorry, I didn't hear it. Can you ask again?” Alan replied with an awkward chuckle.

“Alan, are you sure you’re alright? I honestly thought you would still be asleep at this time. You don't have any classes today, right?” Second inquired while fixing a few errors in Alan's sketch.

“Ah, well, I just want to finish this quickly. This is school work, and I still haven't started on some of my commissions yet,” Alan mumbled, his focus split between the conversation and his tasks.

“Hmm, have you thought about closing your commissions for now?” Second asked.

“Ah, well, no... I need money for my…..school stuff,” Alan admitted, feeling embarrassed as his face flushed with heat.

“Oh... But... isn’t your mom there to help you? You have school, and you are quite busy,” Second remarked as he observed Alan's work, jumping down to hit the play button and watching the animation unfold with a proud hum.

“Mmmm, ehh,” Alan responded, prompting a chuckle from Second. Alan was indeed a man of few words at times.

By the time 10 PM rolled around, Alan and Second had finally completed the animation. Alan then proceeded to craft a brief message to James, attaching the animation and sending it through email before leaning back in his chair, releasing a contented sigh.

“Finally,” Alan uttered, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and fatigue, his arms raised in a gesture of victory.

He heard Second clapping. “Nice job, Alan!” Second cheered, only to stop abruptly when he noticed the sound of light snoring. “Alan? Are you asleep?” Second inquired, tilting his head curiously.

In the end, Alan had indeed passed out in his chair, the weight of his efforts and exhaustion finally catching up to him.

[♡]

Alan adjusted the webcam above his screen and tapped his chin, “I think it's finally set up,” he mumbled to himself, having to rouse from his impromptu sleep at his desk when a knock sounded at the front door. Peering out, he spotted the small package he had ordered from Amazon.

Despite using some of his money to buy the webcam so others could see him, Alan grimaced as he surveyed his messy room and his disheveled appearance. He looked incredibly haggard and felt even worse as his nose continued to run from the previous night.

“Awwwww!” Second whined, slumping in disappointment. Vic patted his back consolingly, “I'm sorry, guys. Maybe tomorrow?” Alan suggested, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, it's fine by me, to be honest. Sec is just impatient,” Dark remarked as Second let out a sad whine.

“Same here,” Vic added with a nod, Chosen echoing his sentiment.

“Oh, that's good. I promise I'll open my camera tomorrow, Sec,” Alan said with a laugh as Second knelt on the ground, clasping his hands together. “Alannnn, pleaseeee,” Second whined, prompting Dark to grab him by the scruff of his neck.

“Stop being so dramatic, Sec,” Dark chided as he shook the orange stick, eliciting a sad whine that made Second resemble a kicked puppy. Alan chuckled as he watched Dark drag Second off the side of the screen and towards the folder.

Stretching his arms over his head, Alan observed Vic and Chosen settling down on the couch, engrossed in their conversation.

After a moment of contemplation, Alan stood up from his chair and walked towards his drawer to retrieve brand new patches to replace the ones on his forehead and back. He took off his wristband momentarily to add a patch to his wrist before securing it back in place, releasing a relieved sigh.

“Perfect, I can work again,” Alan declared before returning to his desk, pulling up the list of his commissions. “Where to start, where to start,” he mumbled to himself, opening his program and diving back into his work.

By 2 PM, Alan had yet to have his breakfast or lunch, engrossed in completing his second commission of the day. Jennifer had not returned home to remind him to eat, and his stomach's growls finally drew attention to his neglected meals.

Vic and Chosen had retreated back to the folder, likely to spend time with the others and leave Alan to his work. Despite expressing his appreciation for their presence, Alan tried not to feel disheartened by their departure.

Standing up from his chair, Alan descended the stairs, glancing into the darkened kitchen. “Mom still isn't home?” Alan mumbled, a tinge of loneliness creeping in as he eyed the sandwich Jennifer had left in the fridge the previous night.

“Sandwich is fine,” Alan decided, grabbing it and taking a bite of the cold bread before pausing as he noticed a bill and a small note on the kitchen aisle.

“Order some food that’ll last you until dinner! I won’t be home until midnight, i love you”

“Oh... I totally forgot about that,” Alan murmured, scratching his head as he recalled Jennifer mentioning something to him during dinner the previous night, a detail that had slipped his mind entirely.

“Okay,” Alan muttered to himself, picking up the bill and pocketing it. “I don’t need to order any food; I can just eat sandwiches,” he resolved, feeling guilty about using Jennifer's money. He was content with the remaining peanut butter and bread.

Rushing back to his room, Alan tried to chew the cold peanut butter sandwich as he resumed his work, determined to make the most of what he had.

[♡]

Second hummed with curiosity, navigating through the settings bar in an attempt to rectify the muted Google issue pointed out by Yellow. It seemed Alan had accidentally muted Google, preventing them from watching YouTube.

"Where is it…" Second pondered, tapping his chin in confusion, clicking on the 'System' tab and jumping to the 'Sounds' bar before backtracking with a groan of frustration.

“It’s not here. Is it even in the Settings? I don’t remember,” Second muttered, pressing back and then jumping to the search bar, typing 'Google', only to groan again when it yielded no results.

“Might as well just make Yellow do this,” Second decided, scratching his head.

Suddenly, a mischievous idea sparked in his mind. What if he could access Alan’s webcam and catch a glimpse?

“Heck yeah!” Second cheered excitedly, typing 'Camera Privacy', locating the camera icon, and opening it to grant access. With a devious giggle, he relished at the idea of being the first to see Alan.

Second swiftly exited the Settings app, frantically navigating to the Camera app via the taskbar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alan without alerting him. The room was quiet, and Second prayed that Alan was not at his desk at that moment.

“Yes!” Second cheered as the camera app opened, only to frown at the darkened room illuminated by a soft light, revealing a distressing sight—Alan.

Alan appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair, his cheek pressed against his palm, looking unwell and sick. Second was taken aback by the unexpected scene, noticing Alan's disheveled appearance, the white patch on his forehead, the tissue stuffed in his nose, a line of drool on his chin, and a thick wrist brace on Alan’s wrist.

“The hell?!” Second exclaimed softly, observing Alan's discomfort as he shifted slightly in his sleep. Concerned, Second realized he needed to alert the others without delay.

“I gotta get the others quick!” Second muttered to himself, rushing towards the folder, nearly tripping as he hurried to the house. He pushed the door open abruptly, startling Vic, who was seated in the living room engrossed in something on his tablet.

“Vic! Cho! Dark! I need help!” Second exclaimed, waving his arms frantically to get their attention.

“Woah, what’s with you, man?” Dark inquired, strolling in from the kitchen, mug in hand, while Chosen, lounging on the other couch, looked up quizzically. Vic, closing his tablet, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, I may or may not have opened Alan’s camera... and he looks really sick and bad. He has this patch on his forehead, and I think there’s even a tissue shoved in his nose. And he’s wearing a brace on his wrist... Achk! Never mind, just follow me quickly!” Second explained hurriedly, darting out of the house and back to the folder.

They reached Alan's room, where the camera app was still open, revealing Alan slumbering at his desk, his head supported by his hands.

“Creators above, what happened to him?” Vic questioned, his arms crossed, visibly worried. Beside him, Chosen growled, looking perturbed. “I thought he had gone to bed earlier. I told him to rest,” Chosen added.

“What the hell? What happened to Alan?” Dark demanded, a mix of concern and anger in his voice.

Alan stirred awake, the voices from his earphones drawing his attention to the camera application open on his screen, revealing his own exhausted appearance. Blinking in confusion, he noticed the four Hollowheads on the side of the screen.

“Eep!” Alan yelped, hastily covering the webcam with his hand to block the view.

“Alan... What happened?” Vic inquired, his arms folded, a mix of worry and sternness in his expression.

“I... Did you see?” Alan asked nervously, his voice tinged with apprehension.

“I'm sorry, Alan. I was just really curious to see how you looked, and I found you asleep. You look really tired. I didn't know you could outdo Yellow in looking incredibly haggard!” Second blurted out before receiving a shove from Dark.

“That’s not helping, Sec,” Dark muttered under his breath, while Second chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“I promise this doesn't happen every day. I-I’m just…” Alan trailed off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he slowly removed his hand, revealing his face on the camera once more.

“Alan… did you sleep earlier when I told you to rest?” Chosen inquired, his tone filled with a mix of concern and slight reproach.

Alan could only lower his gaze, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled softly, eliciting disappointed sighs from the group.

However, Second, looking at Alan with admiration, interjected, “You do look really young!” This unexpected comment made Alan look up, a chuckle escaping him as his shoulders shook, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

“Usually, I would fix myself up before showing you guys how I look,” Alan confessed, a blush tinting his cheeks as he observed their curious expressions focused on the camera application.

“I really think you should get some sleep, though,” Dark interjected, a hint of protectiveness creeping into his voice now that he had seen how young and weary Alan appeared. While Dark hadn't encountered many humans, he knew from pictures what an adult typically looked like, and Alan didn't fit that mold.

“Y-yeah, totally,” Alan replied awkwardly, acknowledging the concern in Dark's words, while Chosen stood with arms crossed, adding, “I'm glad to see you, but I think you should leave the camera open so I know you're actually going to rest.”

“I didn’t know you were his dad,” Second quipped, surprised by Chosen's protective stance.

“I'm not, but I'd feel better knowing you're not just saying you'll rest,” Chosen retorted, his tone carrying a hint of authority that made Alan scratch his head. “Okay, it's fine with me,” Alan agreed, though he couldn't hide his slight discomfort.

A moment of silence followed as they all processed the sight of Alan, their creator. Vic, Chosen, and Dark had once perceived him as an all-powerful figure, only to discover he was just an awkward teenager who couldn't stop fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck every few seconds.

“You're pretty awkward, aren't you?” Dark teased gently, prompting Alan to sputter in protest. “I-I'm not!” he protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Alright, enough, before you rest, tell me what happened with your wrist first,” Chosen demanded, pointing at the black wrist brace on Alan’s right hand.

“Oh, this? Uhm, I'm not sure yet. My right hand tends to ache when I use it for a long time—I mean…” Alan trailed off as he realized his slip of tongue.

“Don’t tell me you've been working with your right hand hurting all this time?” Vic interjected, a note of worry in his voice.

“I wasn't!” Alan defended himself, raising both arms in protest, inadvertently revealing more patches on his arms to the Hollowheads’ view.

“Alan,” Dark growled, a hint of frustration evident in his tone, while Second let out a sigh of exasperation.

Alan could only duck in defeat, preparing himself to listen to the Hollowheads' admonitions about his health once again.

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Hellooo, I don’t know if you do request but what if Ford was overworking himself down in the basement, and to surprise him, you cosplay as your DD&MD character but in lacy lingerie while give him a lap dance…Sorry if that’s too much my imagination going haywire 😃

Oh I'm soooo behind this

Suggestive content under the cut

MINORS DNI

It was late, very late actually. You were not especially surprised that Ford had yet to make an appearance; having been cooped up in the lab for most of this week tinkering away. Now was the third night in a row that he had come to bed late. Yesterday you had to drag his sorry sleep deprived behind upstairs at the ripe hour of 3am, finding him passed out in his chair and hunched over in a position that was definitely not good for his back. Tonight though he had promised to do better, to return to you at a reasonable hour. It was now 12:43am so the hour was not in fact reasonable. Old habits die hard you mused, how else was a man able to get so many PHDs?

Typically you slept rather restlessly, even more so without the comfort of Ford besides you. Tonight though you were awake at such a late hour for a reason. Said reason being what you deemed as 'positive reinforcement.' You had every intention of seducing Ford the moment he entered your shared bedroom.

Which is how you got here; in probably about a third of your Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons persona, lounging somewhat lackadaisically on your stomach in an extremely raunchy set of lingerie that left very little to the imagination. You fiddled with the dice next to you on the bed, enjoying the sound of them clacking together. Well the night isn't getting any younger and neither is Ford so if he wasn't gonna come up to you- you were gonna go down to him.

Bouncing up and off of the bed you plucked Ford's neatly folded bathrobe off the back of the chair at Ford's desk and pulled it over your ensemble, checking in the mirror to make sure there were no clear indicators of your chosen attire. Securing the tie around your waist, you picked up the dice and your phone, sliding them into pockets before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror and adjusting the circlet and elf ears you donned.

It was late enough that you had no real fear of running into anyone else but you still chose to be cautious; it would be incredibly obvious to anyone on the outside to just what you were doing sneaking around like this With that thought in mind you took your time getting to the basement.

Unsurprisingly Ford was still very much awake and actively working. His back and shoulders were tense and he scribbled down notes in his precious journal, still oblivious of your presence. He jumped a little when you slid up behind him, sliding your arms loosely around his neck and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"Hello Dear. I'll be up in a few minutes, I just need to finalize this calculation."

You just hummed and coiled your arms tighter around him, fingers playing with the knit of his sweater while waiting for Ford to play catch-up. Your lack of genuine response paired with your unwillingness to leave seemed to be all Ford needed to put it together, all the pieces snapping together in his big wonderful brain. He paused in your embrace, gears grinding to a halt, pencil suddenly unmoving.

"I've done it again haven't I? What time is it my Love?"

You just laughed, cheeks flushing at the term of endearment and moving your hands to rub his tense shoulders while pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"It's well past midnight Darling."

Your tone was sweet but matter-o-factly in his ear, letting out another small airy giggle when he dropped his head to his desk abit dramatically. You tutted at him and moved to grab ahold of his chair so you could turn him to face you; he let you. There was a rosy tint to his cheeks, clearly a little embarrassed for making you get out of bed to retrieve him like a petulant child past their bedtime for the third time this week. His eyes were apologetic when they met yours, then turning suspicious when he saw your clothing choice. You gave him very little time to scrutinize, wanting to get the drop on him. And drop you did: the robe you stole falling to the floor just as fast as Ford's jaw did. In that quick movement to had also taken liberty in placing your phone face up on his desk, a D20 in your hand as you slunk down to straddle his lap. You took great care in pressing your body to his as you placed a chaste kiss next to his open mouth, ghosting your lips across his skin until you met his ear.

"Persuasion check. Roll for seduction."

Your voice was low, a sweet beckoning whisper against him and it sent a shiver down his spine. He tried to pull you in for a kiss but you resisted him, instead flicking your wrist and letting the die in your drop onto his desk. You both watched as it rolled to a stop against the corner of his open journal. Ford gulped loudly, eyes flitting back to you.

"Eighteen."

Ford's voice was a low rasp, sounding dry in his throat. His gaze was intense, eyelids hooded. You leaned back and he chased you, still trying to kiss you. Again you resisted him, tracing his jaw with your forefinger.

"Eighteen with a multiplier of plus two for being a bard and a secondary plus two for being a half elf. So twenty-two."

Taking his jaw in your hand, you decided to have mercy on him, leading him into you for a kiss. He needed no convincing, meeting you eagerly, lips meeting yours in a bawdy open mouthed kiss. It was a little clumsy at first, noses bumping together momentarily and his glasses making themselves known against your cheek before his brain caught up with his body; influencing his handiwork. His tongue worked against yours diligently, your own wrapping around the smooth muscle and sucking lightly. That was all you allowed him, pulling away again and sitting back on your heels, letting out a laugh at the disappointed whimper that left him as you did so. The hand that had snaked it's way into your hair attempted to pull you back in, putting gentle pressure on the back of your skull to encourage you.

You smoothed your hands down his sides, stopping to squeeze his thighs, smiling when you felt the muscles clench under your fingers. Ford's hips reflexively bucked up into yours when your hands skimmed higher, against his pelvis. You turned your attention to your phone on his desk, swiping up on the screen to press play on the song you had queued up. It wasn't anything special per-say, but it worked for the occasion.

"Should've come to bed Honey."

He blinked slowly up at you, finally catching onto your plan. His grip tightened reflexively as you moved to lift yourself up before you gently grabbed his hands, bringing them to your lips, hot breath fanning against his knuckles in a way that made him feel dizzy. You placed a kiss to both of them, maintaining eye contact as you brought them both to rest back on the arms of his chair. You kept your hands over his, leaning in close to nip at his earlobe; voice low and spilling from your lips like honey as you spoke.

"Gonna keep your hands right here and to yourself okay Sweetheart?"

He nodded dumbly at you, your words and honeyed tone ringing in his ears and knocking around inside his skull.

Taking great care to actually move gracefully, you used Ford's body as leverage to smoothly stand. Making sure to arch your back in a fairly evocative way on your ascent, pushing out your breasts invitingly towards him. Your body moved lithely, almost balletic as you swiveled around on your feet, throwing a saucy look over your shoulder back at him before gyrating your hips to the music. Ford was hypnotized, watching silently from his place in his chair. Music barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears as he watched you drag your hands sensually over the contours of your body, feeling his cock come further to life beneath his slacks. He shifted in his seat, attempting to adjust his pants and relieve some of the pressure he felt somewhat discreetly. You easily caught him of course, observant at you were. Simpering at him, you closed the distance between your bodies again.

"Feeling tense Stanford?"

Upon closer inspection of your lascivious apparel he spotted some interesting and rather complex looking stitching zigzagging across the crotch area. Any and all questions he had pertaining to your undergarments were suddenly dashed and graciously answered as you whipped your body forward, arching your back harshly and tracing your hands up your spread legs tantalizingly. The new angle your body took on completely showcasing the fact that the stitching he was admiring was actually a seam, a seam that was now very much open and giving him a front row seat to your glistening folds. He balked, letting out a choked sound as he shot ramrod straight up in his chair, cock at full attention.

You smiled with a sadistic satisfaction, running your hands up his thighs just to make him squirm. Fingers just barely brushing against the clothed length of him where it was now tenting in his pants. A groan rumbled low in his throat, eyes greedily eating up the sight of your breasts sitting prettily against your torso, framed beautifully by the delicate lace trim of your bra.

He hadn't seen this piece before he realized, not recognizing the pattern of elegant lace pattern decorating your chest and hips. He felt a level of fondness rise in him right alongside want at the idea of you surprising him like this. It then struck him in the chest that this was a planned effort, orchestrated with the goal to seduce him. Although he very much doubted that your original plot had taken place in the lab; a slight on his part he imagined.

You laughed and leered lecherously at him over your shoulder before crawling your way back onto his lap. Ford was hyper aware of every movement you made on him, knowing that only his own clothing separated him from your sex. You gave him no reprieve, sitting on your haunches as you just barely hovered over him, not giving him the satisfaction of your pussy dragging against his clothed member.

His fingers flexed, clenching aggressively around the armrests as he fought to keep his composure, unwilling to be the one to end your little game. You just smiled at him again, fluttering your lashes almost innocently as you brought your hands down to play with his where they sat white knuckling the worn leather, humming thoughtfully as you traced around each individual finger.

"You're being terribly good Ford. It's really no fun."

You teased him without any bite, giggling a bit as he raised a brow at you.

"I'm just doing as you asked Dear."

He couldn't help the smirk that worked it's way onto his face, his voice taking on a lower register that he knew would get you all hot and bothered. Your reaction was subtle and he had to give credit where credit was due but he knew your every micro expression and could see straight through the slight wobble in your lip you tried to mask by biting it.

"Don't you want to touch me Ford? "

Your voice took on a pout, feigning hurt while you finally dropped your weight onto his lap, grinding heavily against his erection. Ford hissed through his teeth at the sensation, being able to feel you glide against him even through his pants. Your eyes were still on him, still waiting for an answer from him.

"Yes. I would like to very much."

You giggled again, finding his phrasing both a bit silly and endearing in your current situation.

"Roll for it."

Ford's hand was trembling slightly as he reached back for the die, fumbling around behind him on the desk blindly until he felt the smooth edges of the die beneath his fingers. Your fingers delicately traced edges of his jaw, regarding him with a sardonic expression as you watched him try to regain some semblance of his composure. He made a noise, a grunt maybe, in an effort to clear his throat; his adams apple bobbing briefly when he swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. You took the moment to bite at it, scraping your teeth and laving your tongue across the column of his throat as he wove the die between his fingers; pulling back only to watch it drop back onto his desk.

Ford's breath hitched, head turned and Lazer focused on the die as it slowly came to a stop. A loud groan could be heard throughout the space, immediately followed by howling laughter.

"A two! Critical failure!."

You gasped out between laughs that shook your whole body, having to grasp at the arms of the chair to steady yourself atop Ford as his head dropped back in defeat, hands falling limply at his sides. Ford leveled you with a chastising look at your continued snickering. You simply brought your hands back up to his face, leaning in to pepper his face with sweet kisses.

"Oh you should have come to bed Darling."

You cooed against his skin, breath tickling his cheeks as you withdrew abit. His face was softer now but still frustrated, lips turned into what you'd dignify as a pout. As much as you wanted to tease him more about it you had technically accomplished your goal; knowing full well he'd follow you wherever you would go once you got up off his lap, if he let you that is. He was being a terribly good sport about this, even with his straining, clearly painfully hard cock trapped between your bodies. Being ever so merciful whilst also indulging in your need to make Ford squirm you ground down against him hard. Absolutely languishing in the loud shattering moan that escaped his chest and the way his hands shot up to dig into your hips.

"I'll tell you what-"

A dreamy sigh left your lips along with a soft moan of Ford's name as he bucked up against you. Leaning in closer your breath fanned against his earlobe as you finished the thought he had interrupted.

"You come with me to bed and I'll let you make a saving throw."

----------

Sure you knew this "positive reinforcement" would probably never break this bad habit but you'd reap the very pleasureable consequences all the same.

[spiderwarden]

Minthara steps forward with the accepting of the tome in question, and she opens it with the flip of the cover. "I would hesitate to surrender any text to the flame." She flips a page and then gives the first bit of information she has turns to a brief skim. It was always good to keep her common language sharp with a informal book - educational purposes and all on the culture of the surface. "All knowledge is worth a safe keeping, regardless of one's own standing in regards to the subject matter." Then she turns the pages again to take a gander at the illustrations - a brief admiring of the copy writer's talent before she herself shuts the book.

"We cannot fault the worshipers for the cowl over their own eyes, for the folly is not their own." She starts, recalling her own time within the service of the Gods, a faith taken advantage of time and time again, that which includes a lifetime spent in particular worship toward her Spider Queen, as was all of her people. "The folly is in the Gods themselves. I have yet to find a deity that does not abuse their followers in some way or form." Between Lolth, Shar, The Absolute, Bhaal, and even the brief she has heard of this Sylvannus. "They think that devotion and faith will reward them with the blessings in desperate times of need - in my experience prayers have only earned their wrath.." Her eye flicks away to the flame as the edition is brought to her side, a brief memory of her own fists hammering at the inside of a flesh pod. "And most wretched of all their silence."

@spiderwarden

"I've never understood the obsession people have with gods. Earning favor, keeping favor, hanging on every single word, doing all their bidding like leashed dogs...as if deities give a damn about anything besides their own whims." Just as selfish as any mortal; sometimes doubly so. Liliana flips through a couple more pages, face scrunching up as she skims the words. With a huff, the cover of A is Azuth, and other Gods III is slammed shut. Of all the books to find, it had to be this. She could ask others in their encampment to borrow better reading materials. But there's a certain level of her pride that she doesn't want to push aside in order to do so.

Liliana glances to the drow with the tome extended towards her in ofference. "Do you want this? If not I'm going to toss it into the fire."

[hamspamandjamsandwich]

Kurama is such a complex character, god love him. The way I see him is: I mean he’s literally actually only Yoko Kurama.

“Oh he’s here. He’s me.”

So we have three personas here: Kurama, Yoko Kurama, and Shuuichi Minamino. While he has these three identities, he doesn’t have three personalities. That is to say, he’s one being, two different pieces that merged.

That’s where shit gets really interesting. My interpretation of this is that the merger came packaged with a human soul and body, and that the human parts are what gives him a conscience and a heart and a moral compass, and things such as. I doubt this is an original idea I just wanted to muse lol.

Shuuichi doesn’t bring a different personality. I think Shuuichi provided the things that make us human and a body. Those things are part of the human soul. Empathy, guilt, love. Yoko was always still himself, it’s how Kurama remembers everything, it’s literally just him. He’s simply changed as a person due to being plagued with humanity.

And that’s such a fun idea to me. Yoko Kurama, the legendary bandit, king of thieves—having personality rehab via the human experience. I think it just changed him the way anyone can change, sorta. He begins to feel pretty shitty about the things he’s done and feels guilty about everything with regards to his mother. All this comes together and makes him…a better version of himself? A better person? And I like that.

there is no Shuuichi outside of an adopted persona/identity for Kurama—like I don’t think he brought anything outside of what comes with nature, genetics, and a human soul (which I personally don’t think is the sum of someone’s personality, just what gives them spiritual life? If that makes sense).

But man, it makes me love Kurama so much more when I don’t think of Yoko as a different self or something that can be abandoned, it’s simply a previous version of himself. The past. So I think his 15 years as semi-human simply gave Yoko some insane character development.

Experiencing being unconditionally loved—the very idea that a relationship need not be transactional—being loved beyond what you can do for them. Being loved for existing, and nothing else. I truly think that his humanity responded well to being loved during the “early childhood development” stage and it gives him a way more stable sense of self than he should have tbh

And much like actual prison (or maybe more accurately rehab or inpatient etc), he has nothing but time and passes it by taking up interests and hobbies. He got to find stuff he enjoys about being human and ningenkai. He already liked plants obviously, but it’s so sweet to imagine him really developing an interest in botany and gardening and keeping houseplants etc. Learning to cook with Shiori and actually really liking it—I mean hey he gets to use some of those plants he’s been growing.

Big reader, obviously. He wants to know everything, and he knows so much already, yet humans keep inventing new shit to learn about, so that works out well. School and education get to be competitive sports that he’s the best at, again obviously. All manner of puzzles, games (tabletop and video of course), mystery books and films; if you can analyze it or crack a code somehow, he’s good with it. A real people-watcher, the disdain for humanity begins to fade over time and observation—they’re not so bad after all.

I like that he grows very comfortable in his human form. He’s pretty and appears to really own that (he lucked out there, huh? Incubated in a human that will be so attractive in the future lol), and I think that being raised by his mother (and perhaps this is some of that aforementioned Shuuichi nature) has him “in touch with his feminine side.” So I imagine he doesn’t miss his Yoko body too much, until he suddenly gets it back for a moment and is reminded of how good it felt to be himself. Good in a sinful, hedonistic way, that is. He clearly doesn’t want to be that way, but 1000+ year old habits die hard, right?

Idk I love Yoko Kurama that’s all folks that’s one of my headcanons or maybe it’s actually canon who knows. I just wanted to muse about my favorite kitsune.

[icarusignite]

These Violent Delights (1)

Chapter 1: Marigolds and Mayhem

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x OC

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Academic rivals, Coriolanus Snow and Artemis Highbottom must compete for the Plinth prize. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: Check out the masterlist for a better synopsis lol. As usual, don't be a ghost reader. I live for yalls comments/questions/concerns/reactions, even a keyboard smash is highly appreciated and encouraged ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Masterlist

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It was the third nosebleed of the night and Artemis was just about tired of it. She didn't even bother stemming the flow, allowing the carmine rivulets to trace an unhurried path from her nostrils to the marble below.

The hush of running water met the heavy rhythm of a beating heart, and there she stood—a lone figure, framed by the harsh edges of the sink, her grip upon it almost desperate. She could feel the sharpness imprinting into her skin, and yet still she clung, her skin stretched across her knuckles almost comically grotesque.

She watched the blood, in an almost detached sort of way. It could be art, she mused, the juxtaposition of sanguine against sterile white. A whispered revelation danced at the edge of her consciousness—anything could be art if you framed it the right way. Even the bloodiest of carnages. A spectacle, a thing to be enjoyed.

Artemis looked up, and her reflection stared back, menacingly. The mirror, an unforgiving oracle, revealed a distorted visage, one she both did and did not recognize. Her dark hair, cascaded in disarray, entangled in the aftermath of sleep's elusivity and her eyes harbored shadows akin to a painter's bruised palette. The reflection mocked, a cruel mimicry of the composed persona she so ardently sought to maintain.

Out of control.

Unbidden judgment pierced through her thoughts, a verdict she loathed to acknowledge.

No that could not be right.

Artemis Highbottom was always in control.

She despised this discordance, this disruption to her meticulously curated world. To her, it was anathema, but nature could not be controlled, and what was more natural than blood? Perhaps it was fitting, that this fundamental of humanity could not be dominated.

Blood could never be dishonest, and it had the power to reveal one's innermost truths.

With unyielding determination, Artemis scrubbed at the remnants of the crimson tide that painted her face, an act of restitution against the chaos that dared to invade her pristine sanctuary. Each abrasive stroke was an attempt to erase not just the physical residue but a deeper discord. She worked quietly, although there was no one else to hear. There was never anyone to hear her, her gilded halls always vacant, but Artemis spoke silence like a second language and old habits die hard. She spared her father a brief thought, wondering where he could possibly be at such a late hour but it didn't really matter. He just wasn't here. He never was.

Raw skin met her touch, and the blood, now vanquished, left in its wake a battlefield—a canvas of sacrifice for the sake of semblance.

The mess was an unwelcome intrusion there were far worse ways to be awoken. If she was busy cleaning up after her nosebleeds, then she wasn't sleeping, and if she wasn't sleeping, then she wasn't dreaming.

The walk to the Academy's Heavensbee Hall was a brisk one, although, in the sweltering heat, Artemis found herself increasingly short-tempered. She was going to be late, but she kept her pace measured. She would not arrive a panting sweaty mess like some savage. It had been a foolish idea, she knew that, but she had given her own driver the day off anyway, waiting instead for her father. His presence was expected, and she imagined it would have been a pleasant change of routine to accompany him. He was probably running late, she told herself. After all, she hadn't seen him return, and she would know, she was awake half the night.

The grand staircase up to the Academy could hold the entire student body, so it easily accommodated the stream of officials, professors, and students headed for the reaping day festivities. Artemis sped up, taking three steps at a time, while still attempting a casual dignity. Every other person she passed stopped to wave her down and exchange pleasantries, and although her impatience was rising, she kept a placid smile stretched across her lips as she greeted them all in turn. She nodded when they asked after her, and then nodded some more, albeit less enthusiastically when they asked about her father.

She made her way through an entry draped in black banners, then sprinted down a vaulted passage, and into cavernous Heavensbee Hall, where they would watch the broadcast of the reaping ceremony. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that she wasn't quite as late as she believed, and the official ceremony hadn't yet started. The hall was humming with faculty and students and a number of Games officials. 

Avoxes wove through the crowd with trays of posca, a concoction of watery wine laced with honey and herbs. One passed by Artemis, and despite her parched throat, she waved him away. On principle, she avoided any and all intoxicants. It was stronger than most people thought, and in previous years she had seen many make complete fools of themselves by imbibing too deeply. Artemis would be damned if she allowed herself to lose control like that. That and given her father's dependence on morphling, she imagined she must be genetically predisposed to addiction. 

In the great hall, she was once again forced to make her rounds, as faculty and students alike beckoned to introduce her to their circles. She eventually travelled past the hundreds of cushioned chairs set up for the occasion and onto the dais, where the communications professor, Satyria Click was regaling a mix of Academy professors and Games officials with some wild story. Amongst the gathered crowd was the biology instructor, Alfred Stanton, who stood off to the side, eyes deliberately wandering the area as if to make a show of his boredom. When his eyes caught sight of Artemis, he brightened, his face lifting in a smile as he waved her over. 

Oh great, more greetings. If Artemis had to utter another false pleasantry, she'd lose her breakfast. 

No, she wouldn't. She knew better than that. Besides, she was Professor Stanton's teaching aide, and it was quite literally in her job description to be at his beck and call. 

When she arrived, she scowled internally. It was inevitable, she knew that, but she was hoping that at least today of all days, she'd be delayed in setting eyes upon the one person who held the power of ruining her mornings. 

"Oh, Coriolanus!" Satyria drawled, as the blonde boy gave her the customary kiss on the cheek. "Here’s my star pupil.”

Artemis held no qualms against Satyria, not really. She was amusing and not overly uptight, one of the few professors who allowed students to call them by their first names. It was her teaching aide against whom she held a grudge. 

Professor Stanton, not to be outdone, clapped his meaty hand on Artemis's shoulder, making her stagger. Maybe the man needed to lay off the weightlifting for a bit. He announced her presence to the circle enthusiastically, earning a scowl from Satyria. 

"And Artemis, my star pupil. We were afraid we'd miss you this morning."

Artemis ducked her head bashfully, mumbling something about running late, but Professor Stanton only laughed boisterously, as he continued to speak. 

Coriolanus Snow was seething. Well, no that was perhaps a little extreme. Artemis Highbottom did not deserve such a reaction from him. She didn't deserve the energy. When he hadn't seen her earlier today, he had deluded himself into thinking that she simply wouldn't come. She was never late after all, so the fact of the matter must be that she simply wasn't coming. With her gone, he could be the sole beneficiary of the crowd's attention, networking his way into their hearts. 

Then he had seen her arrive, panting and slightly out of breath and he had to admit he marveled at the sight. Her coffee skin flushed and her hair thrown over her shoulder haphazardly as if she'd been running. Coriolanus had been amused, to say the least. He had hoped that she wouldn't wander over to his little corner, that he would be able to have Satyria's circle all to himself, but it was wishful thinking. People knew of him of course, being the son of Crassus Snow and all, but he realized that they tended to forget about him in her presence. After all, it was far easier to garner the good graces of one's father if he was still alive. Even if said father was Casca High-as-a-Kite-Bottom. Snow sniggered at the nickname, a creation of his own genius. 

Almost as if she could read his mind, Artemis shot him a withering glare, and Coriolanus stiffened, standing straighter to shoot her one back. The circle had shifted, placing him right next to her and if he stretched his fingers, they'd brush against hers. Not that he'd want to of course. How utterly repulsive. 

“Beautiful shirt. Where did you get such a thing?” Satyria was addressing Snow now, surveying him carefully. 

He looked at the shirt as if surprised by its existence and gave the shrug of a young man of limitless options. They didn't have to know that all that was left to him was his name. The world still needed to think of Coriolanus as rich. 

“The Snows have deep closets,” he said airily. “I was trying for respectful yet celebratory.”

Artemis held back a snort. 

Celebratory, my ass. 

The Snows' closets were as deep as their pockets, which was to say, containing all the depth of a bottlecap. Standing this close to him, she could almost smell the faint scent of dead marigolds and potato starch his shirt was emitting. 

"Is something funny, Miss Highbottom?" Coriolanus turned to him with a raised eyebrow. 

Just your pathetic fibbing skills, she wanted to say. Perhaps she had not been as discreet with her expressions as she thought she'd been because he was still waiting for an answer. 

"Not at all, Mr. Snow," Artemis gave him one of her very best saccharine smiles. "I just agree with Satyria. That is indeed a lovely shirt."

Their professor beamed, happy to be validated.

“And so it is. What are these cunning buttons?” Satyria asked, fingering one of the cubes on his cuff. “Tesserae?” 

“Are they? Well, that explains why they remind me of the maid’s bathroom,” Coriolanus responded, drawing a chuckle from her friends. 

This was the impression he fought to sustain. A reminder that he was the rare person who had a maid’s bathroom — let alone one tiled with tesserae — tempered with a self-deprecating joke about his shirt. 

He nodded at Satyria. “Lovely gown. It’s new, isn’t it?” He could tell at a glance that it was the same dress she always wore to the reaping ceremony, refurbished with tufts of black feathers. But she had validated his shirt, and he needed to return the favour.

As he did so, his eyes couldn't help but return to the figure at his side. While Satyria's renovated dress made him feel better about his own attire, brought to life only through his cousin Tigris's efforts, Artemis's had the exact opposite effect. It was new, almost obscenely so. Wasteful extravagance, he thought to himself bitterly. What a vain and shallow creature, but such was the case with all the Capitol women he supposed. 

"What a wonderful ensemble, Artemis!" Satyria crowed once again. "You absolutely must give me the details of your dressmaker. Doesn't she look lovely, Coriolanus?"

Snow blinked. The question was directed at him, clearly, but he couldn't force the words out, even as his professor looked at him expectantly. 

“Elegant,” he finally stated blandly.

Liar. 

Artemis's eyes flashed at him triumphantly, almost as if calling him out. 

The adults wandered off, and their company was replaced by that of their classmates. Arachne Crane slipped her arm into Artemis's as soon she was within range, and Artemis sent her a smile that was only slightly less false than the one she had been wearing all morning. 

"Finally, and here I thought our star pupils would be too busy to give us humble folk time of day," she complained. 

"Don't ever use the word humble, Arachne," the boy to her right, Festus Creed, scoffed. "It does not suit you."

Arachne rolled her eyes and sipped her drink petulantly. 

"Have you tried this lamb, it's scandalous!"

The only thing scandalous is the president's son eating with his hands, Artemis thought to herself, but she knew better than to say it out loud. 

Lucky for her, Festus didn't. 

"Only the vulgar eat with their fingers, Felix," he chastised. "What, daddy not teach you table manners?"

"Maybe he would have if he wasn't so busy running the country!" Felix retorted. 

The conversation veered off in the direction of the Plinth Prize, and their eyes were drawn to the family standing off to a corner, speaking amongst themselves. 

"Who would have thought that you could buy yourself into the capitol?" Felix muttered derisively. 

"You can buy god himself, provided you have the resources," Artemis finally commented. 

"You can't buy class though. Did you see Sejanus's mother's outfit," Festus paused for dramatic effect before sniggering. "Sorry, his ma's."

At least he had a mother who cared for him, which is more than Artemis could say for the imbeciles around her exhibiting motherless behaviour. 

"Dress a turnip in a ballgown and it'll still beg to be mashed," Snow jeered. 

Artemis scoffed. And here was the biggest motherless moron of them all. 

"Interesting that you of all people should say that, Coriolanus," she eyed him carefully. Gone were the honorifics she had addressed him by earlier in front of the professors. This was a battlefield and there were no pleasantries in war. 

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

The two stared at each other, neither wanting to be the one to look away first and their classmates glanced between them uneasily. 

Eventually, Coriolanus blinked, his ears burning, and Artemis flashed him a grin. If he wasn't thinking about carving the smile from her face, he might have thought it suited her. 

If it was a battle of wills, Artemis was a born victor. 

Their conversation about Sejanus came to a halt when he approached them. He didn't bother greeting any of them but he smiled at Artemis, which she heartily returned. Arachne shot her a questioning glance, but if the Capitol was a hierarchy, Artemis outranked her, and therefore did not have to answer to her. 

Coriolanus eyed their interaction sullenly. He was a charmer, it was the only currency he had access to after all, and over the years he had made his best efforts to charm the Dean's enigmatic daughter. Perhaps he thought it'd make Dean Highbottom detest him a little less, if he had Artemis's favour, but although it appeared that she shared nothing else with her father, she shared in his disdain for Coriolanus. There was nothing he could do to endear himself to her, and he had long since stopped trying. 

It especially irritated him, that it was Sejanus of all people who had managed to make friends with her. He did not even need the networking opportunity it provided. Snow observed the brunette boy now, his soft charcoal gray suit that reeked of money. 

Sejanus’s father was a District 2 manufacturer who had sided with the president. He had made such a fortune off munitions that he’d been able to buy his family’s way into a life in the Capitol. The Plinths now enjoyed privileges that the oldest, most powerful families had earned over generations. It was unprecedented that Sejanus, a district-born boy, was a student at the Academy, but his father’s lavish donation had allowed for much of the school’s postwar reconstruction. A Capitol-born citizen would have expected a building to be renamed for them. Sejanus’s father had only requested an education for his son. 

For Coriolanus, the Plinths and their kind were a threat to all he held dear. The newly rich climbers in the Capitol were chipping away at the old order simply by virtue of their presence. It was particularly vexing because the bulk of the Snow family fortune had also been invested in munitions — but in District 13. Their sprawling complex, blocks and blocks of factories and research facilities, had been bombed to dust. District 13 had been nuked, and the entire area still emitted unlivable levels of radiation. The center of the Capitol’s military manufacturing had shifted to District 2 and fallen right into the Plinths’ laps. When news of District 13’s demise had reached the Capitol, Coriolanus’s grandmother had publicly brushed it off, saying it was fortunate that they had plenty of other assets. But they didn’t. 

Sejanus had arrived on the school playground ten years ago, a shy, sensitive boy cautiously surveying the other children with a pair of soulful brown eyes much too large for his strained face. When word had gotten out that he’d come from the districts, Coriolanus’s first impulse had been to join his classmates’ campaign to make the new kid’s life a living hell. He was glad he didn't because when Casca Highbottom's daughter befriended him, it put an end to all public acts of cruelty. They still mocked him in private, but that couldn't be helped. His district blood simply invited the scorn. Coriolanus's decision to simply ignore the boy had only reinforced his image. The other Capitol children took it to mean that baiting the district brat was beneath him, and Sejanus took it as decency. Neither take was quite accurate, but both worked in his favour. 

"Sejanus," Festus grimaced. "You made it to the reaping for once."

"And you made it to graduation Festus, we're both shocked," the brunette boy responded. 

"Spill it, who won the prize?" Arachne inquired. 

Sejanus scoffed. Like any of these rich Capitol children even needed it. 

"Oh no, I'm not going to ruin my father's big day. No one here actually likes him, but they all love his money. You know what that's like, don't you Arachne?"

Arachne scowled, leaning up to whisper in Artemis's ear about what a stuck-up thing he was. Artemis did not grace her with a response, but when the bell rang, and the students began to assemble in front of the dais, she took the opportunity to slip her arm out of Arachne's. Sejanus fell into step beside her then, taking the opportunity to slip a bottle of water into her hands. 

"And this is for?" she raised an eyebrow. 

"I know you can't stand the posca. Thought you might need something to drink, given all the talking they have you doing around here."

"And you thought I couldn't get myself some water?"

"I thought you shouldn't have to," he rubbed his neck ruefully. "Although I realize I might be a little late."

"I appreciate the gesture anyway. Thank you, Sejanus."

Artemis granted him her only real smile of the day. His sheepish smile reminded her of the day they first met, when this district boy with the cloddish accent first wandered up to her, offering her his bag of gumdrops.

She followed him to where a special section of chairs, six rows by four, had been set up for the mentors. To her chagrin, he took a seat to the right, leaving the only vacant seat next to one Coriolanus Snow. She felt the childish desire to kick his chair out from under him as he went to sit down, but shook away the traitorous thought. It was beneath her. 

When her father began to speak, Artemis suppressed a sigh of exasperation. Dean Casca Highbottom, the man credited with the creation of the Hunger Games, presented himself to the students with all the verve of a sleepwalker, dreamy-eyed and, as usual, doped up on morphling. Artemis zoned out as he went on his usual spiel of how the Hunger Games, his displeasure at the whole event evident in his tone, although perhaps that was just the drugs talking. 

"There has been a change this year. One final assignment to prove your worth, because the esteemed citizens of the Capitol have grown bored of the Games and simply aren't watching anymore. And if the Games are to continue at all, there must be an audience," he continued rambling. "Head Gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair. Starting with you. The Plinth Prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades...but by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games."

Nervous whispers fluttered among the students, as they exchanged uneasy glances. A subtle unease threaded its way through the crowd as they leaned in, both captivated and unsettled by the Dean's cryptic words. 

Artemis had been aware of this turn of events, and so did Sejanus, as it was his family's money involved, but she took great satisfaction at the dumbfounded expression on Coriolanus's face when he heard the news. It made the dourness of the entire situation as a whole much more bearable. 

"Your goal is to turn these children into spectacles, not survivors," Dean Highbottom announced. 

Artemis was right. Anything could be art. Anything could be turned into a spectacle, even the most depraved of carnages, and what greater carnage was there than the Hunger Games? 

Artemis did not need the Plinth Prize. She imagined her father would finance her higher education as he did all her other luxuries, but perhaps he might look at her differently if she won it. Perhaps it might gain his admiration. Perhaps he might respect her if she earned something of her own for once. Perhaps he might finally return home sometimes. 

She did not care much for the Games, in the sense that they held no significance for her, so far removed were they from her daily life. Her classmates were a varied spectrum on where they stood, ones like Sejanus speaking out firmly against the ritual, and others enjoyed the butchery, the slaughtering of district lives. Artemis simply did not care. They were irrelevant, but if it meant gaining her father's approval, Artemis would make herself care. 

As the large screens in front of them came to life with life footage from the reapings, Dean Highbottom began to recite the mentor assignments. 

"District One, boy, goes to . . .” he squinted at the paper, trying hard to focus. “Glasses,” he mumbled. “Forgot them.” Everyone stared at his glasses, already perched on his nose, and waited while his fingers found them. “Ah, here we go. Livia Cardew.” 

Livia’s pointed little face broke into a grin and she punched the air in victory, shouting “Yes!” in her shrill voice. She had always been prone to gloating. As if the plum assignment was solely a reflection on her, and not on her mother running the largest bank in the Capitol. Purely by chance, Artemis exchanged a cursory glance with Coriolanus just then, secretive like a private joke, which left her feeling quite unsettled. 

Coriolanus felt increasing desperation as Dean Highbottom stumbled through the list, assigning each district’s boy and girl a mentor. After ten years, a pattern had emerged. The better-fed, more Capitol-friendly districts of 1 and 2 produced more victors, with the fishing and farming tributes from 4 and 11 also being contenders. Coriolanus had hoped for either a 1 or a 2, but neither was assigned to him, which was made more insulting when Sejanus scored the District 2 boy, and Artemis the girl. 

Unlike Livia, Artemis received news of her good fortune with tact, pushing her sheet of raven hair over her shoulder as she studiously made note of her tribute in her binder. Their brief moment of camaraderie during Livia's outburst was forgotten as she shot him a smug smirk and he seethed. 

District 4 passed without mention of his name, and his last real chance for a victor — the District 11 boy — was assigned to Clemensia Dovecote, daughter of the energies secretary. Something was amiss when a Snow, who also happened to be one of the Academy’s high-honour students, had gone unrecognized. Coriolanus was beginning to think they had forgotten him — perhaps they were giving him some special position? — when, to his horror, he heard Dean Highbottom mumble, “And last but not least, District Twelve girl . . . she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

[oceanlipgloss]

HAPPY MEAL

BEELZEBUB.

+ warnings: dark themes, erotic hues, strong language (added are 2 cups of low-carb fluff + 1 tbsp. of light, ‘diet’ angst)

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

At the time, it sort of didn’t feel lonely anymore, that atrociously endless thing. Existence.

Damn, though, the girl didn’t know how to handle a knife or spoon properly; she wouldn’t manage to prepare something edible even if to save her own ass. Then again, neither could he, probably.

Who cares if the stuff he makes tastes great? The ‘aftertaste’ of its repercussions is nothing short of unpleasant. Fucking blasphemous, actually—for each and every bite brings about a bountiful harvest of unwelcome side effects. Like a new medication manufactured to treat not even one ailment would do.

Did he perhaps spike everything? Just how many of them did he put in there exactly, the drugs?

Yet, absurd as her dealings with recipes were, he thought she was cute as fuck. She was so adorable and so corrupt. The perfect, most harmonious mixture.

Of course, as gluttony in the flesh and an insatiable patron of cuisine—with the foods, creatures and all—he ought to have found that inability of hers offensive, but it’s never too late to learn something new until it’s too late, isn’t it?

With her, that ‘what in “Hell” is a kitchen?’ mode had its charms. She was still young, too, and she satisfied him in other ways. Dreamy, dirty ways.

For once, however, the time they spent together was, well, normal.

Normal enough, that is.

He never did deny that he couldn’t keep his hands off of her even in the kitchen, did he? And he never did say that his hands didn’t go where they weren’t supposed to ‘just yet’ over and over and over and over again, right?

Whatever.

Old habits die hard.

They do, but he also soon remembered something: a little big wish he had put away in his hungry heart, then felt boiling over in his wandering brain every now and then.

He had always wished for a few hours of time. Being buried in a blanket of peace, painted with sunshine...that felt like it would be so nice.

Would she understand that when she had more fun, base things in mind?

Maybe he should once again put that wish away, postpone it to yet another other day. If old habits die hard, then how could birth traits themselves possibly melt off, or so much as sway?

Wasn’t he, after all, the king of gluttony?

He was voracious.

And before him was a pretty woman.

Together they were making a meal so unsatisfactory.

What’s the point of resisting these thoughts, fighting who he is, denying himself what he wants?

Fuck that.

Better just indulge, indulge, indulge, get so drunk on sin until it sloshes under his heated skin.

Everyone has their strong points; supposedly, it’s something known worldwide—like how between the sheets she drove him crazy, but in the kitchen she was merely a confused lady. Tragically clueless. Heartbreakingly unknowledgeable. Lost like a cat with no whiskers.

That is why she watched him do almost everything.

He liked how her glittering eyes were glued to him, like ants pressing needy kisses to a sugar cube.

He loved that she was thinking about sinful things—because of him, no less—so shamelessly.

Oily colours and powdery spices smeared his apron, but did she truly see them at all? No, she didn’t. And even if she did, would she have given a shit? No, she wouldn’t.

Because her eyes were on him.

He could have been stirring the soup and she would have been sucking in the hard contours of his bronze arm and the way his glistening muscles distorted those black tattoos.

In her freaky mind, musings about her tongue pressing against any part of his body were wildly spinning. How pretty the sparkle of her saliva on his body would be!

To her, the taste of his silky skin would bring her pleasure greater than that of an angel at thoughts of God and slaughter.

He was mouth-watering; all at once salt, acid and sugar.

Such was the truth—so much so that as he rummaged through the pantry, he almost heard her thinking, ‘kiss, lick, fuck.’

She was so dizzy with that vicious hunger chewing on her intestines and nibbling on her heart. She was so dizzy with it that thoughts of him nearly distracted her from a particular slice of mischief.

You see, he had in mind quite the...exotic ingredients. Said he wanted to see how they’d mix together and with food itself. Told her desire would ‘milk’ most of them out of her.

She thought it was awfully strange and disgustingly sexy, but why not do it another time? Wasn’t a lot of fun awaiting their tingling bodies after all this mess, anyway?

They both of them didn’t sit at the table for dinner. Why do that when they could eat straight from the scalding pot, their legs dangling down the cool counter?

His feet nearly touched the floor. She, on the other hand, was a much shorter, much smaller, much more breakable precious thing.

He was...happy.

It was sweet, having someone to eat with. Even if that wasn’t a big, proper meal.

She was an eccentric human who could only take so much, but he was rubbing off on her.

How else could one explain why the food merely filled a tiny hole in her stomach?

How else could one make sense of the way guts were aching for something else?

She was still starving.

He could taste it pouring out of her pores, the gluttony. It was hot, raging and uncontrollable. It was an irresistible, delicious kind of heat.

He was still happy.

Seasons change, and so do reasons.

He was so happy his stomach wouldn’t have been able to digest anything else for a while.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a lie.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is what some cliché, half-assed romance novel would have said.

This is the dark world.

The truth is otherwise.

He is the devil king of gluttony.

He liked her company.

But how could a small pot licked clean with a certain special someone have ever made his appetite shut the fuck up for a minute or two?

Think again, will you?

+notes: sort of on the weirder, unappetising or slightly disgusting side, I suppose.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨