#now my cat is taking a nap nearby.

[melon-dot-com]

bonking my head against desk.mp4

I wasted time on something unimportant and that I didn't even care about again!!!!! I'm gonna Lose It!!!!

[identifying-cat-phenotypes]

BOTTOM TO TOP, LEFT TO RIGHT;

"The Boxed Cats"

Cream tabby

Black mackerel tabby, medium white

Fully white (?)

Red tabby, medium white

Black broken mackerel tabby

Black tabby, high white

Black mackerel tabby, medium white

Black tabby, high white

Black self

Red tabby

Black self, medium white

Red mackerel tabby

Black spotted tabby, medium white

Black tabby, high white

Black self

Black self, high white

Black tabby

Red mackerel tabby

Black mackerel tabby

Black mackerel tabby, medium white

Black mackerel tabby

Fully white

Black mackerel tabby

Black broken mackerel tabby, high white

Black tabby

Red tabby, medium white

Red mackerel tabby

Red ticked tabby, low white

Black self

"The Circled Cats"

Black self

Black self

Red mackerel tabby, medium white

Fully white

Black self, low white

Black self

Black self, medium white

Black mackerel tabby, high white

Red classic tabby

Black tabby, high white

Black self

Black mackerel tabby, low white

Black tabby, high white

Black classic tabby, medium white

Red tabby, high white

Red mackerel tabby

Black self

Black self

Black self

Blue broken mackerel tabby, high white

Blue tabby, high white

Red ticked tabby, low white

Red mackerel tabby

Black mackerel tabby

Red tabby, high white

Black mackerel tabby, high white

Black self

Blue self, high white

Black classic tabby

Chocolate ticked tabby

Red tabby, high white

Black self, high white

Black classic tabby, high white

Black self, medium white

Red mackerel tabby, medium white

Black spotted tabby, medium white

Black tabby, high white

Black mackerel tabby, medium white

Red tabby, medium white

Black ticked tabby, high white

Black self

Red tabby, high white

Black self, medium white

Red tabby

Black self, medium white

Black self

Black self, high white

Black broken mackerel tabby, low white

Red tabby, medium white

oaughhhhhdfkhfkhkdfkdfhjdfbkckjfsjfkj

[onyourowndaisymae]

"is... is that my sweater?"

satan notes the lethargic way you look up from your book, watching heavy eyelids lead a slow blink. whatever dusty tome lies in your hands has clearly lured you halfway to dreamland-- and from the looks of it, your cozy attire and the crackle of the nearby fireplace didn't seem to help much, either.

"huh?"

"are you wearing my sweater?" he asks, softer this time.

you let your head fall down to your own chest. you stare at the familiar green sweater on your body for a few moments before lifting your head.

"huh?" you repeat, too tired to comprehend the question for a long moment. then, "... oh. yeah."

a warm chuckle rumbles in his chest as he comes closer. satan had been looking for his sweater all day-- left only in a black undershirt, because it was more about the principle of finding it than needing it-- but he had been wholly unaware he'd left it in your room earlier that day. he couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. you look quite cozy cuddled up on the library sofa like that, swaddled in a blanket and his scent, lost in some book like a vision from an old painting. how he wishes he'd been a little quieter entering the library-- maybe he could have snapped a photo of you like this for himself.

as your lover, satan knows he should probably escort you to bed for a proper rest. but a selfish part of him wants to bask in this scene longer, to let the storm that rages in him find solace at this little slice of heaven. it's odd for a demon to crave peace like this. you've domesticated him in that way-- like a feral cat off the street finding comfort in a stranger's apartment, you've lulled him into a sense of contentness he didn't think he'd find in this lifetime.

oh, what a wonder you are.

"do you mind a little company?"

you nod, sleepily, yawning through what was intended to be a verbal response, but satan's at your side before you make yourself try again. his hand finds your shoulder and coaxes you to sit up. with a little adjusting, he slides into the space behind you and urges you to lean back into his chest. his legs stay on either side of you-- it's warm, comforting, doing nothing to help you stay awake. but it doesn't seem like satan minds your drowsiness.

his eyes fall to the nearly discarded book in your hands. emerald eyes scan over the words. they're familiar, causing a curious itch in his brain that lingers for a few seconds before his epiphany.

"is this... that book i read last week?"

"mhmm. i wanted--" another yawn, "-- to understand what you were talking about, but... i got sleepy."

he understands now. his sweater on your warm body, the library couch, the low fire nearby-- you're indulging in a small taste of his world.

what did he do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?

"i can read it to you, if you'd like," he murmurs, low and quiet. if you wanted the full experience, he'd give it to you-- complete with a nap in his arms. it's selfish, though. he really just wants an excuse to admire you up close, to lose himself in thought about how much he truly, deeply adores you. sometimes the sensation is so overwhelming that it shows on his face in flushed cheeks and soft eyes-- and that is a little too embarrassing to be caught with by anyone, but especially by you.

when you snuggle into his chest, he begins to read from the top of the page where you left off. it doesn't take long for your breathing to even out, your body to grow still and heavy in his grasp. he slides the bookmark between old pages where you originally left off. satan predicts you'll forget most everything he read to you by the time you wake up.

his mind wanders to the soundtrack of your peaceful breathing. he's grateful for lazy days like this. being able to bask in your presence is a gift. to know that you yourself were creating a similar experience by hiding away in one of his favorite reading spots, well... he's lucky you're asleep, as the flush on his cheeks only grows hotter at the thought.

maybe he'll let you borrow his things more often.

[sweeteaacakes]

Hiya 👋 Do you still accept requests? If you do, can I have some headcanons about the kings nap on Mc thighs for whatever reason 👀 And if you can, maybe 6 presented kings too pls

♡》 『WHB || Kings × Reader, Sleep T(h)ightly』

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° The kings falling asleep in your thighs :3

»»-----------►

Satan

You'd expect him to stare at you while sleeping but he is purring like a cat in a deep sleep.

He moves a lot. First he is hugging your thighs. Then rolling on the other side. Next thing he is sleeping in a fetal position. Now he is upside down, head on your feet and his feet on your thighs, legs open wide—

Your hand patted and searched for warmth nearby as you slept. It was cold and the blanket was tossed aside somewhere out of your reach. Not being able to grab onto anything but the empty side of the bed, you open your eyes and stand up only to be blocked by a pair of arms wrapped around your legs.

You squint your drowsy eyes at the giant furball and smile. You leaned forward and gently tucked his soft hair behind his ears to get a better look.

Satan's shoulder heaving ups and downs as he snored… or purred. His ruby eyes that are always open even during sleep are hidden behind his eyelids. The sight somehow made you smile and you found your hand stroking his hair, making Satan purr in his sleep and snuggle on your thighs.

You kept stroking his hair not realizing you're also affecting his horns until you felt nails clawing on your thighs.

You gasped and retracted your hands as Satan opened his eyes and gave you a lazy smile.

“If you keep doing that, you might as well go all the way.”

Mammon

His horns are huge! So it would be more logical for him to sleep face down on your thighs uwu)

He feels your thighs with his cheeks while you comfortably use his hands as a throne so your bum won't get sore. Win-win situation.

If Mammon had his other horn, they would be like a cage around your thighs as he laid his head on them.

“It's quite uncomfortable,” he said without being upset but pensive. “The weight of the horn is completely off and it drags my head down unevenly.”

You nodded at his words, stroking his horn thinking it would be nice to have the other one for your other hand too.

“I guess, I'll just need to come up with an alternative.”

Mammon let out a ‘hump!’ as he lifted himself up. He shifted his weight and now his head is laying on the left. You feel his hands digging under your bottom and scooping them in the palm of his hands.

“M-Mammon…!” You gasped, letting out a small laughter.

Mammon smirked and squeezed your bottom cheeks.

“It's more comfortable this way. Don't you think so?”

Leviathan

Arms wrapped around your thighs like a cage so you can't leave >:3

Or… like you're his anchor. He is sleeping outside his coffin. That's a big feat! TT-TT)

Um… he is also demanding. Like, “stroke my head” “eyes only look at my beautiful sleeping face or else I won't be able to sleep” and “I want my sleeping image to burn on the back of your brain”. Lovely stuffs like that :3

Too bright… it's too bright… you wish you could blame the sun shining down upon you but it comes from the sculpted pristine figure of the king of Hades who suddenly decided to have a picnic with you in his garden.

But now here you are, sitting while he slept on your thighs.

“Child of Solomon…” you heard him growling. You looked down with squinted eyes to see Leviathan's sleeping figure.

“You're in Hell… so look down here and not in Heaven, understand?” He said, biting his lower lip as a habit. The moment he opened his eyes, it was the defeat of yours.

Blinded by the light that threw your sense away, you grabbed both Leviathan's cheeks. His eyes widened by surprise but the moment he could say something, he felt warm lips on his forehead taking his breath away.

You lifted your head and you met his soft silver eyes glittering like the starry sky.

You stared at each other for a while before you looked away, heart drumming in your ears until you dared to look at Leviathan once again.

A soft smile formed on his face with a glint in his eyes before he closed them once again, sleeping peacefully on your thights.

Beelzebub

Face down. Breathing loudly inhaling your scent.

bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you—

It's not a hard bite (okay maybe a few) but it's like he is making out with your thighs 🙂‍↕️

When Beelzebub crawled down your thighs, you were expecting them to be lifted up and spread wide so this moment was more surprising than what you thought.

The wandering king, insatiable and a force that cannot be stopped now sleeps using your thighs as a pillow. Usually, such moments would be so romantic in movies but you can't help but hold back your laughter as you observed the devil on your thighs sleeping, heavily inhaling and exhaling a loud purr.

You leaned back, not wanting to wake him up. He is probably tired and wants to rest. Beelzebub shifted on his back and yawned before rolling on his side again— CHOMP!!!

“AHHG!!!” you yelped as teeth sank on your skin.

“Beel!!” Lifting up yourself, you tried to push away the king from your thighs but you only managed to slightly move him.

You looked at Beel. He is still sleeping and you realized that he was just nibbling and sucking on your thighs as if he was enjoying a feast in his dream.

If this goes further… you don't know what to do.

Lucifer

Will definitely leave marks once in a while with his sharp teeth.

Your thigh is bleeding and will lick and suck it

Other than that, it's peaceful. He sleeps on the side, or face down, because of his pointy horn.

It got you both an amount of awkwardness before you both managed to find a good position for Lucifer to lay on your thighs. He was so mindful about you not getting stabbed by his horn.

In the end, he laid on his cheeks. Face facing you.

You leaned back to have a good view of his sleeping figure. Stroking his hair, you looked at the red horn on the back of his head so you were startled when you realized he woke up.

“Ah! Did I disturb you?” You asked, pulling away your hand.

“No… keep doing it…” he said, slightly smiling with a plea.

And so you did. And Lucifer once again closed his eyes. You wanted to ask him about his horn but you refrained.

He looked like living a moment of reminiscence before he reached out for your hand and brought it to his lips. Lucifer placed a little kiss on it and cupped your hand on his cheek as he drifted again to sleep.

Belphegor

A third demon, a third cat and a third rock.

When will he wake up? Good luck on that.

Hope you agreed on letting him sleep on your thighs after emptying your bladder or you're gonna wait for Beleth to come and pick him up.

This was the day you learned that sleeping was a serious affair in Niflheim. Before you could meet Belphegor at your date that day, Beleth greeted you two hours before to explain the terms and conditions, protocol procedures and safety service.

Told by him, this would require more hours but after years he managed to find a shortcut to summarize the content.

And so now here you are under the sun of Niflheim. The trees rustle by the pleasant wind. The fish of hell that resembles koi swims in the pond. The king of sloth sleeps on your thighs. And you were thankful that underneath you is a whole mattress.

You felt like a substitute for a pillow. You are. The pillow was discarded on the side.

“Why are ya still sitting…?”

You heard someone. You looked at Belphegor who's sleeping like a rock.

“There's a big bed. Lay off, would ya? You're makin’ me tired just by sitting your day away…”

The voice said… Belphegor… it comes from Belphegor!

“Ventriloquism?!?” the lightning struck you.

Despite the yell remained in your head, you somehow can feel Belphegor glare at you as if you shouted right at his face.

“...Lay."

And so you did.

You laid to the left side and reached for the pillow so Belphegor can still lay on your thighs. The bed was too comfy that drowsiness caught you up easily.

It didn't matter when you switched positions because even Belphegor made himself comfortable. He rolled on his left, snuggling on your thighs as he tucked his arms underneath to wrap them around it.

This sure was a… particular picnic.

»»———-　　———-«

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Author Note: owa this is a bit short but I had fun writing it...? also made me realize how i write each kings. how come i end up making leviathan soft and tend to give him kaomojis? lololol

[prismuffin]

Omg! Okay so I just thought of the cuties thing in opinion! And wanted to do an ask of it!!

So, Male Reader is a shape-shifting alien kinda like Marsion's (Ex:Mee-gan ), but they can only be in a form that is not their true form for a limited time. Like 16hrs or something, after that, they shift back to their real form, unless they are in like fight or flight mode. After the time is up their behavior is that of an autistic that is burnout or overstimulated.

The MaleReader's true form basically looks very similar to an Earth's panther (i.e big cat) expect it has 4 sets of eyes and has a pure white coat with red patterns.

So! How would Dick, Jason, Tim, Wally and Conner (sperately) react to Alien MaleReader doing the cat behavior of 'if I fits, I sits' after seeking them out to take a nap and recharge?

Ex: Jason wanting some peace reading while laying on the couch, and reader just climbs his way up the back of the couch, to carefully place himself in between Jason's side and the couch cushions.

I'm working on some full fics but as to not let my blog seem dead I'll get this ask out the way! Anyways I think that-

Dick was in the kitchen making himself some lunch. For once, he decided to sit down at the table to eat instead of going to his room. He was sort of surprised to see you in your true form creeping your way over to him. He, at first, thought you wanted some of his food which he was not gonna give to you but instead you simply shrunk down underneath his chair. Squeezing yourself through the legs of the seat and resting your head on his foot. He was confused but just let it happen, sighing as he realized he was stuck with the cat curse and now he cant move because you're laying on him.

Jason would be sitting on the couch, finally glad to find a rare moment of quiet. He was simply relaxing until you came in, you were in your true form so he didn't think you'd be too much of a distraction. But he was wrong when you walked up to him and practically draped yourself across his lap, resting your head on a nearby pillow. You exhaled deeply and just closed your eyes, joining him in his relaxation session. He looked around at the rest of empty spaces on the couch before looking back at you, shaking his head with a slight smirk he just let you lay on him since you were warm.

Tim would probably be working, mumbling to himself about god knows what when you'd walked into his lab. He turned when he'd heard his door open and greeted you as he saw you enter, asking if you needed anything. You didn't answer and simply walked up to him, rubbing yourself against his legs with your tail held high before diving between his legs. Because of your size he had to steady himself as to not fall over. He let out a surprised gasp before trying to push you out but you wouldn't budge. When he did successfully get you out from underneath him you just followed him and did it again and again. If this was your way of getting him to stop overworking himself so much it is kind of working.

Wally had recently gotten a new package and boy was he happy, besides the fact that he had to assemble it himself. So he sat on the floor of his room trying to put together a gaming chair, screwing together two parts that look like they definitely shouldn't fit that way but that's besides the point. You'd entered his room and he'd given you a quick greeting before going back to building his chair. He'd heard some shuffling from where you were and turned to ask what you were doing only to see you fitting yourself within the large box that his chair had come in. You'd successfully smushed yourself down enough to fit perfectly in the box and he couldn't help but laugh at the sight. He took a picture, ignoring the soft glare you were giving him.

Conner would be resting and taking some time for himself not really doing much sadly. It was a rather boring day so he just sat himself on the couch, submitting to the mindless entertainment that the tv offers. Sooner or later you walked into the common room, spotting the kryptonian you moved over to him before shoving yourself under his legs. He was confused at first and asked what you were doing but didn't get much of a response besides a semi-sassy look as you just laid down and closed your eyes. He didn't move as your presence simply added to the comforting feeling of the couch especially since you were practically a warm footrest for him.

———

Directory

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 6 - Garden

Content includes: Leona x reader, "Herbivore" as a nickname, established relationship, probably OOC Leona (I'm so sorry Leona)

Today has been arguably the longest day of your life so far. All of your classes dragged on forever, Grim kept talking and talking about how you needed to buy him more tuna, and Ace and Deuce were being Ace and Deuce. You felt utterly exhausted, and you knew you needed a break. 

Finally, the final bell of the day rings, and you’re officially free to go. You dart off, leaving Grim alone with Ace and Deuce. You’re almost certain you’ll come to regret that decision later, but right now you just need a break from it all. 

As you walk, you decide to text your wonderful boyfriend, Leona. Like always, he skipped most of his classes, so you figured he must be lazing about in the Botanical Garden. You send him a quick text to let him know you’re going to come see him, not expecting any sort of response. 

The walk to the garden is relatively short. Once there, you step inside, immediately feeling the difference in the air. It’s always fresher in here since most of the plants are so fragile. 

It doesn’t take you much time to find Leona. The Botanical Garden may be big, but he usually naps in the same spot. He appears to be asleep, but you know he’s not. You sit down next to him, and without a word he rolls over and places his head in your lap. You laugh a bit at that, mentally comparing him to a house cat. 

“You’re late,” is all you get from him, and you begin mindlessly combing your hands through his hair. You laugh again, telling him about how you aren’t late, you just didn’t want to skip class. 

“You’re the one always complaining about how boring your classes are. Just skip them.” You can only sigh at that, but it is more affectionate than annoyed. He’s mostly joking, both of you know that, but maybe it would be nice to skip with him once in a while. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence after that, with you continuing to comb through his hair. His hair always looks a bit messy, but it’s actually very soft. You know he does a lot to maintain it, even if he would never admit it. 

That’s when a silly little idea pops into your head. 

You continue to pet his hair, pretending to be normal. With your free hand, you pluck a nearby flower out of its container. After spending so much time in here, you’ve become accustomed to most of the plant life, so you know this flower is fine to touch. 

You bring the flower down and place it in Leona’s hair, and that causes him to look up at you. His expression is a mix between annoyance and curiosity, but he doesn’t outright question you. He’s more than used to your antics by now, after all. 

Since he didn’t complain, you pick a couple more flowers, gently placing them in his hair as well. He sits still, letting  you do as you please. Soon enough, his hair is decorated with a variety of colorful flowers, and you find the sight to be absolutely adorable. He normally doesn’t let you do stuff like this, but you figured he must be feeling nice today. 

“You’re taking these out of my hair before we leave, got that?” Well, at least you got this far before he scolded you. Still, you’re happy he let you do this much, and you let him know as much by scratching behind his ears. 

Your exhaustion has all but faded by now, and you could almost forget about how horrible your day was. The Botanical Garden tends to have that effect on you. Or, maybe it’s just Leona, but that feels a bit too sappy to say out loud.

[skrrts]

Hey, are you busy right now? ft. SAN (drabble series)

✧ gn! reader x choi san ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, fluff, dating, video call ✧ word count: 692

You tried your best, really, but after hours of studying, you can't read another page. Calling your boyfriend seems like a good idea for a small break: San answers right away, always worried that you overwork yourself. He's stuck in the traffic while on his way to you but it doesn't stop him from being cute on the phone.

It hadn’t even been ringing for three seconds when the close-up of your boyfriend’s face appeared. All you could see was San’s pouty mouth, followed by a silly kissing sound before he moved the camera back a little.

“What was that?” you laughed, and he looked at the camera with a very lazy but cute smile.

“Kissing my favorite person in the world. You know me, I have the habit of always greeting you first with a kiss,” San’s voice was soft and sweet.

He never really failed to do it, no matter if you were separated for a few days or just hours, like when he would volunteer to go and pick up food from your favorite place that still didn’t offer delivery. The soft kiss was the way to greet you.

You chuckled, relaxing back into your pillows, careful not to hit one of your books, and blew a playful kiss back at him. “And you know I always love that.”

San was smiling as he fixed his beanie a little before giving you a proper look: “Work wasn’t too busy today, so they kicked me out, and I stopped by my parents'. Dad’s actually driving me to you right now because, based on my experience, you likely skipped lunch again in favor of studying faster.”

You brushed through your hair, smiling: “Hello, Mister Choi!”

You got along quite well with both of San’s parents. You often visited them or they joined you for little weekend trips every so often.

His voice was as soft as it was scolding, and there was no way around you making a guilty face. San knew you too well, he really did. When you started to study, there was just no stopping; you wanted to get it done and only took a break when your brain refused to take in any more information.

“I ate some of those energy bars of yours. You always eat them at the gym!” you defended yourself in a cute voice, knowing he couldn’t resist it.

“Y/N! You really are something,” he laughed and shook his head.

Video calls with San were always about the same. He would be cute and teasing while looking at you so softly that you wanted to melt. Most didn’t consider him such a sweet guy when they saw his firm build.

“So, you coming over means you’ll stay the night?” Your voice was full of hope as you looked innocently at him, slowly moving to tap at the free space on your bed that San loved to curl up in.

Sometimes, when your exam was the next day, he’d do just that. You would sit at your desk until late at night, and he would curl into the blankets, napping and peeking over at you like a cat until you would finally sigh, wrap up, and join him.

San loved his cuddles. He loved for you to wrap your arms around him, place little kisses all over his head, and in return, he’d hold you in a gentle embrace, and you’d nap together.

“How about a day or two? I think I’ve left so much clothing at yours lately, it’s easy enough to stick around. Work’s nearby, so why not?”

You sat up: “I’d like that! Well, I guess that means I should get ready and prepare the dinner table. Make some space for my big fluffy cat to come home.”

San smiled, and his dad chuckled next to him, saying, “We should be there in ten minutes.”

Your boyfriend kissed the camera again: “I’ll see you soon then. I love you.”

You turned around in the room, before you gave in and kissed the camera in the same silly way.

“I love you too. See you in ten minutes then.”

With that, the two of you ended the video call.

You studied quite a bit today, and made good progress ... it didn't only seem more tempting but also fair to spend the rest of the evening with your boyfriend.

And when you were finally done preparing the table, there was a knock before the door opened and you turned around.

"Welcome home."

[whiskersz]

Hey so I just saw you had request opened for Adam so could you please do headcannons with Adam x reader where the reader is like very nervous at first and is quiet but after a bit when they open up is supper out going and talks a lot? Have an amazing day/night!

Hello there! Happy to write some Adam headcanons for you, dear reader! Hope you like these and have a wonderful day/night yourself :3 I assumed these were meant to be romantic but they can be read either way.

Adam x Quiet -> Outgoing! Reader HCs

Adam isn’t really sure what to think of you at first.

He never knows what to make of quiet people; is there a storm brewing in their little brain, or are they uninteresting and as such undeserving of his attention? Lute is the first for example, and he quite likes her, so he decides to give you a chance.

What really amuses him is your nervousness around him at first; he’ll tease you by asking things such as “What, cat got your tongue?” and make fun of you when you stumble on your own words, his booming laugh catching the attention on anyone nearby.

Lord knows why you stick around, but you do, and day after day you two somehow grow closer; you get used to his tacky jokes about your personality and little by little you learn to either ignore him and move on or retort with the first thing that comes to mind, shushing him. He’ll either blow you a very immature raspberry or flip the bird at you whenever this happens.

Once you open up a bit and become way more talkative though, unfortunately for you, he finds a whole new reason to be rude to you;

“Got your tongue back I see. Great, now I’ve got a pest by my side.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re going to give me a headache!”

“Do you ever shut up?”

As you can probably tell having any kind of relationship with Adam is not the easiest thing in the world – or well, in Heaven, in this case.

It’s not rare for you to get a bit offended by what he says, but you’ve figured out a way to worm your way into his heart and get him to listen to you: acts of service.

Adam is a bit lazy when it comes to doing things that aren’t fun for him, so the best way to get him to calm down a bit is to take the weight off his shoulders and do whatever needs to be done in his stead.

Of course, we’re talking about everyday acts, such as doing the groceries or cleaning. He’s going to be overjoyed if you get him something he likes while you’re out too; every time you come back home from grocery shopping with ribs to cook, he’s oh-so going to listen to your rants about how long the line at the cash register was or whatever you have to talk about this time.

He’s also a big napper, and it’s surprising even to him how much it helps him fall asleep when you talk about literally anything as he’s trying to take a nap. These are the times where he’ll actually reply to what you’re saying too!

“...and that’s when my friend left. I couldn’t believe it, like... if she really cared she would’ve stayed, right?”

“What...is she a fucking bitch? Of course she would’ve stayed if she gave a damn.”

He answers with his eyes closed each time, but his eyebrows are still furrowed in frustration whenever you tell him about someone or something that pissed you off.

Lute probably questions you guys’ relationship, not going to lie. She can deal with Adam, but you? She has absolutely no idea how you put up with him, but as long as she gets some free time for herself she’s not going to complain.

[lol-im-done]

First Lady of Panem

Pairing: Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When your family arrived to the Capitol from District Ten to secure their place as one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Panem you could have never dreamed fate would lead you into the arms of Coriolanus Snow. Falling in love was easy, watching him become President and becoming First Lady of Panem at his side would test your limits. Panem's history would forever be changed by this union.

AO3 Link

Author's Note: TW & Tags will be updated as each chapter comes out, first chapter is just to set up the story & characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Sky Blue Eyes

Those bluebonnets how sweetly they grow

For all the wide prairies they're scattered like snow

They make all the meadows as blue as the skies

Reminding me of my darlings blue eyes

The cow-filled prairies shifted to mountains signaling the train's entrance into District Two as you hummed to the tune of an old song from before Panem’s creation. The sprawling grass sea of District Ten, of your home, disappeared in the distance as you made your way to the heart of Panem. 

“Darling, are you listening to me?”

Lifting your head from the rattling window you turned to see your mother looking at you with soft concern. 

“Sorry Mama, what were you asking?”

Her hand smoothed over your younger sister Mellona’s curls, making her nuzzle deeper into her side. “I was asking if you were hungry so I could order lunch.”

“That would be nice Mama. Thank you.” 

“Alright, call for Agnes if you need anything she’s in the next car,” your mother stands, lays a snoozing Mellona down, before making her way to the dining car. 

“Homesick already?” Victoriosa, the eldest, asks from the chaise never taking her eyes off the magazine in her hands. 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“We always knew we’d have to move to the Capitol.”

“Why now? I thought at least another year or two,” you asked, sinking into the plush leather seat. Victoriosa pauses, looks up at you and for an instant you can see your father’s intense expression staring back at you. 

“Papa wants to finally establish himself as a prominent figure in the Capitol. He needs Capitol support if he is to fully absorb the rest of the ranches, you know that,” she states. “This is also our opportunity to reach our full potential, choose our own paths. Once you finish your career you can always return to Ten if you wish but that would be a waste,” she returns to flipping through her magazine.

“Silva, what do you think?” you turn to your only brother who is seated next to you. 

He gives a short shrug. “I don’t mind it much as long as I can continue my research,” Silva sighs from behind his thick textbook. 

Victoriosa tilts her lithe neck backwards, “Yawnnnnn.” A snort leaves your lips and you’re grateful your mother isn’t nearby to reprimand you for your ‘unladylike’ behavior. 

“Biodiversity is the pinnacle of our success as cattle breeders!” Silva scowls. 

“I thought you’d be missing a certain milkmaid Carpathia,” Victoriosa smirks and a wild blush spreads under Silva’s glasses.  

“Oh like you’ll be missing your ranch hand Bronco,” Silva snaps back.

“There’s always summertime. Plenty of time to catch up,” Victoriosa grins like the cat who got the cream. The three of you burst into a fit of giggles right as Mellona groggily rouses from her nap. 

“Are we there yet?” 

Another burst of laughter fills the private train car. 

It would only take a few more hours before you arrived at the Capitol train station, nightfall falling over the city. Unlike District Ten, not all the stars were visible, the Capitol’s bright lights polluting the sky. Peacekeepers were already stationed to help move all the luggage into the waiting line of cars. Driving through the streets towards your new home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the statues in the squares and the towering buildings. Most of all you were excited to finally see your father, it had been almost a month since you had seen him last. 

“Papa!” 

All of you crashed into Alicio Lupus’ awaiting arms, his rumbling chuckle bouncing off the high marble ceilings of the penthouse. Refugio joins in on the hug with teary eyes, reaching up to press a kiss on her beloved husband’s cheek.

“Welcome home my darlings,” he squeezes you all tighter. Any fear you held disappeared in an instant, as long as you had your family by your side, all would be well. 

The first few weeks in the Capitol had been a whirlwind- meeting other Capitol families for dinner, registration for coveted internships and school courses, and endless shopping trips to assure your home and wardrobes were up to Capitol standards. Refugio Lupus wanted only the best for her children, which included constantly coaching you all to leave behind the District Ten accent that made certain words in your vocabulary drawl. 

After dinner one day you thought you had finally caught a moment of peace before a knock at your door startled you from your book. Agnes, your family's nanny, rolled in a rack of dresses with Victoriosa in tow. Victoriosa was already dressed in a sleek blood red dress with a mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders. 

“What’s all this?”

“We’ve been invited to a soirée to commemorate the end of the 13th Hunger Games. Papa thinks it’s a good chance to introduce us to others in the Capitol’s high society,” Victoriosa swept her arm towards the rack of glittering and ruffled dresses. Nerves made your stomach churn, mouth turning downwards into a frown as you remembered people’s faces this past week when it was revealed you had recently arrived from District Ten. Most look startled before looking at you like you were some exotic bird at the zoo. 

“They’ll never accept us.”

A prideful look crossed her face, so similar to your father’s. No wonder your mother said they were cut from the same stone. “They will once we show them we are as refined as they are. As long as you lose that accent of yours you’ll blend in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she grinned, canines glinting in the light of the chandelier. Rolling your eyes you step over to the rack, feeling the fabrics under your fingers. Stopping at a silver dress, the sequins twinkled like stars entrancing you. Agnes helped dress you before getting to work on sweeping your hair up into a fashionable updo. You waved away the highly pigmented makeup, not ready to delve into that side of Capitol fashion quite yet. 

“Remember you’re a Lupus. We’re wolves among sheep,” Victoriosa pinches your cheek. The usual calluses that adorned her hands were gone, chemical treatments making them a long forgotten memory. 

Wolves among sheep. 

Victoriosa’s words replay through your head like a mantra as you step into the grand ballroom behind her and your father. Thankfully your sister was a gifted extrovert, introducing you to the friends she had already made. Soon you found yourself surrounded by members of the new Gamemaker class, a glass of posca in your hand. It took some time but slowly your shoulders loosened and your smile widened, confidence making you stand a bit taller. 

Across the ballroom, Coriolanus Snow was repeating his own mantra to himself- Snow always lands on top. A reminder that showing up for another Capitol soirée wasn’t simply a waste of time but another way to show all these sycophants how high he had made it. Now heir to the Plinth fortune he was dressed impeccably. Tigris had helped style him, no more handmade shirts, and the final touch- Grandma’am’s rose pinned to his lapel. Like at most parties he was surrounded by his former classmates who were all desperate to remain in his inner circle- he was an esteemed Gamemaker after all. A glimmer in the distance caught his eye, distracting him from the meaningless chatter before him. He recognized the group as intern Gamemakers but not the young woman, fresh faced and glowing in the candlelight. 

“Who is that?” Coriolanus feigned nonchalance as he tilted his head towards her. 

Festus Creed followed his gaze, “Don’t you know?” 

“How could he know? The Lupus Family only recently decided to establish here in the Capitol,” Pup Harrington said in between bites of hors d'oeuvres. The name rang a bell, stories and information from his various connections coming to mind. 

“I believe that’s (Y/N) Lupus. I saw her the other day with her father, Alicio Lupus, at my mother’s bank” Livia Cardew said, inching closer to Coriolanus. “They practically own all the ranches in District Ten, Alicio Lupus’ brother is the Mayor of the District,” Livia whispered, lips coming close to his ear. Festus and Pup exchange an eye roll at her shamelessness and Coriolanus resisted the urge to shrug her off. Offending a Cardew would never bode well.  

“She’s district, probably going back and forth from Ten to the Capitol like one of her family’s pigs,” Livia giggled, but it sounded like grating metal in Coriolanus’ ears. 

“Don’t forget cows! Oh Panem, I dream about those steaks-,” Pup practically salivated. 

“Imagine living all your life in that District, like poor Sejanus,” Festus tutted. Coriolanus immediately bristled at the mention of Sejanus, his icy blue eyes darkening like an impending storm. Festus must have realized his mistake because his eyes widened, apology on the tip of his tongue before Coriolanus cut him off. 

“I should go make her acquaintance then,” he announces, ignoring Livia’s scowl. It was an opportune moment he thought as you now stood by the bar alone. Perhaps you would be desperate enough to try and get in his good graces, and offer to introduce him to your father. Coriolanus would be a fool not to recognize the Lupus family’s wealth and influence, they kept the Districts fed and the Capitol fat. Any potential relationship he could make was more support he could need when he would take a position in the Government. 

As you took another swig of posca, you thought you had managed to escape more social interactions for the night until a voice made you jump. 

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus Snow. Welcome to the Capitol.”

Turning around you looked up at the man’s captivating eyes, as blue as the sky back home. His pink lips curled slightly at the ends as if he was holding in a secret. Blonde hair pushed back in a neat fashion, accentuating his cheekbones. For a moment you were speechless. Remembering yourself, you gave him your name but you had a feeling he already knew it. 

“Pleasure to meet you Coriolanus Snow.”

His stomach swooped. Coriolanus swore he heard a familiar lilt in your voice, but it was not as strong as Lucy Gray’s and those in District Twelve. No, yours was smoother and made your pronunciation of his name sound like it was dipped in warm honey. 

“How are you finding the Capitol?”, he forces himself to ask, to ignore those dangerous thoughts. 

“It's something...definitely not like back home,” you look around at the extravagant decor. 

“Ah yes, District Ten. I’ve never made my way there but I’ve heard wonderful things,” the lie flows smoothly past his lips. “How grateful you must feel to finally be brought to us.” 

Coriolanus would never miss a chance at making anyone District born feel inferior, all the posca he had been drinking making him loose lipped tonight. Indignation made your hands tingle, but you took a deep breath and clenched the glass tighter in your hands to ground you. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t assigned there as a Peacekeeper. I suppose wherever the songbird called from you followed,” you replied, taking a demure sip from your glass, relishing in the way his jaw tensed. You knew who he was, his story with Lucy Gray Baird. Victoriosa had heard it all from a friend and had no qualms in passing the gossip down to you. If he was going to throw thinly veiled insults you’d have to show him you wouldn’t take them lying down. 

“There’s that famous Lupus bite I’ve heard about,” he grins, taking a step closer to you. The scent of roses fills your nose, the sudden proximity to him making a blush rise up your neck. His hand reached out, moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear but the moment was broken when Victoriosa called out for you, pointing to your father who was making his way out the doors. 

“If you’ll excuse me it’s time for me to get home. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” you murmured softly, dipping your head in farewell. Coriolanus stepped back with a slight bow, eyes never straying from your figure as you sauntered away. Oh yes, like two stars crossing in the night sky, you would meet again. Coriolanus would make sure of it. 

[justporo]

Hello! Very sorry if your post was rhetorical, but you asked for Astarion fluff and I had an idea. Since he's a canonical cay person, I like to think that a druid Tav would enjoy wildshifting into a cat and lounging in his lap, either acting as a heat source or letting him run his fingers through their fur when he's nervous or upset.

Anon, thank you so much. I immediately had a scene in my head and this was a true delight to write.

So now that I'm already crying from replying to that other Anon message (not their fault ofc), let's return to our regularly scheduled fluff, eh?

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You, Druid this time) Wordcount: 1,8k

Cats with Benefits

Sometimes it got all too much. Those were usually the moments you used your wild-shape abilities to shift into a cat and strolled off into the forest to have some moments of peace and quiet.

Today had been an especially exhausting day – the party had been fighting and bickering trying to figure out how to get through the Mountain Pass. The way was always steep and only loosely fixed, so you only made very slow progress and all of you were already completely exhausted came noon. So, you had decided that you’d take an additional rest midday when the sun was high and hot, adding to your already physically demanding hike.

You had put down your pack, went a few yards into the nearby patch of trees you had stopped at today to use their generous shade, and shifted into your usual form of a fluffy black cat and started to stroll around the small patch of forest. For some time you just wandered over fallen trees or through the underbrush, enjoying how differently it was to experience nature from the perspective of a feline creature. You loved it – it was almost like meditation for you.

The others didn’t know you wandered off like this sometimes. Or at least they hadn’t mentioned it. They wouldn’t leave without you and so far, you’d always gotten back to them in time. And as of late tension was high enough that everyone was pretty much occupied with just themselves, so they didn’t miss you.

After some time, you found a nice big rock in the sun on a clearing in the woods. Perfect for a cat to lounge on and take a nap. You jumped up, allowed yourself a long full body stretch and a big yawn and then rolled up into a ball of fur to enjoy the sun and some time alone.

As you laid there, your thoughts started to wander. You thought about your companions. You liked them, each and every one of them. Naturally, some more than others but you respected them all. But the path through the Mountain Pass had been a strain on all of you. And it really hadn’t helped that today everyone had just seemed on edge from the very first step on out.

Specifically, Astarion had been incredibly annoying today. Not being able to stop complaining about everything. Always replying with a sarcastic remark. To be honest, your relationship with him was probably the hardest and most formal of all thus far.

You had already realised that his flirty and sassy behaviour obviously were his coping mechanism for something deeply troubling, but by the Gods, it seemed he could never shut up. He was hand full at the best of times. Your furry ears started to twitch and the tip of your tail zig-zagged just thinking about it.

You tried to clear your mind then after your thoughts kept spiraling, hoping to relax enough that you could actually sleep a little.

But only shortly after your peace was broken.

“Well hello, who are you my beauty? A descendant of a mighty mountain lion? Rawr.”

No, it couldn’t be… The damned vampire had found you.

Of course he didn’t know it was you, but…

You opened one eye lazily and saw Astarion lean down to you, reaching out one hand to stroke you. Your jaws opened and you could already feel the hiss inside you rising to the top, but oh.

His touch was so gentle. His fingers softly stroked from the top of your head down your feline neck and back and you couldn’t resist leaning into his hand when he started again from the top.

“Someone likes that, hmm?”, Astarion said softly while petting what he received only as a wild but friendly cat.

Shifting into an animal also meant adapting some of their unique abilities and habits, so you couldn’t help when your feline body responded to the gentle touches by purring.

The vampire was positively intrigued when he heard that. As you opened your other eye you could see his big smile – a genuine one. You had never seen him smile like that. “Seems like someone’s just as touch-starved and desperate for some comfort as me”, he whispered while continuing his pets. That made your ears perk up and you immediately felt for the pale elf. Questions filled your mind about his unknowing revelation.

But you had barely any time to ponder them because suddenly the vampire scooped you up into his arms and sat down in front of the boulder you had laid down on. You yelped – or rather meowed at the sudden change of position.

Astarion moved carefully with your cat self in his arms until he was laying in the grass, legs angled, and you snuggled up against his chest. Since he had donned his armour and was only in his camp clothes you could feel his body, beneath your own.

This was incredibly weird and would probably end up with an awkward revelation but – you couldn’t deny that it was also very delightful.

“We can be cuddle buddies, my beauty, at least for an afternoon. So we can both get some much needed affection, hm?”, Astarion whispered to you. His red eyes looked so sad saying that. Whatever you had started to think about to get out of this situation evaporated. Suddenly, you only wanted to keep him company – it seemed he desperately needed it.

And the way he unknowingly had started opening up to you: it was a good albeit saddening look on him. You wanted to provide some comfort it that was what he seeked.

Also, it felt incredibly good to lay there on your new vampiric stone, soaking up the sun together while Astarion carefully continued petting you: scratching behind your ears, stroking down your back with both hands, even when he tickled one of your paws with a single finger. And you couldn’t stop purring. That bastard knew exactly what to do to keep the purrs coming.

Then after a while he just laid there with you, hands on your soft and shiny fur. He sighed: “I wish I could take you with me. You seem to like me. At least more than my other companions.”

Your ears perked up again, you looked at him but he had his eyes closed, head lolled back to enjoy the warming sunlight.

“Especially, Tav”, Astarion continued with another sigh “I wish I knew a way how to change that.”

That was it. You couldn’t in good faith continue to lay there with him as he offered up his innermost feelings. You got up and jumped off the vampire’s chest who got up on his elbows looking sad by your departure. You sat there and shortly pondered if you should just leave, keeping your secret. But you couldn’t, you needed him to know – and also have some words with him.

You changed back into your humanoid form, making Astarion scurry back from you, eyes wide with shock.

“Hi Astarion”, you whispered as you knelt beside him.

“You – what? How? Oh, I knew your eyes looked familiar!” His voice rose several octaves and you kept silent as his mood changed from shock to anger – but he stayed where he was.

“What the fuck was that about? Trying to spy on me?”, he hissed at you. Excuse him? He invaded your privacy. “I was here first, you bastard!”, you spat back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“And you didn’t think to reveal yourself before I proceeded to make you fucking purr?” “How when you didn’t leave me anytime in between petting me and lifting me up? I only wanted to be alone!”, you screamed back.

That made Astarion’s shoulders slump a little, some of his softer side returned. “I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry”, you replied and looked down at your knees while pressing the balls of your head against your forehead “I should have said something way earlier.”

You looked up at him: “But then you sounded so sad and I… didn’t want you to be sad so I let it happen and it was kinda nice... I’m sorry, I invaded your privacy like this, Astarion. I’ll just leave and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You saw the surprise on the vampire’s face who remained silent. So, you moved to get up, but Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist. “No, please. Stay… It was nice”, he confessed and looked into your eyes. The look he gave you was almost pleading.

The urge to move in and hug him overcame you, so you acted upon it – you had already laid on his chest, hadn’t you? How much worse could this make it?

You moved in and wrapped your arms around him – surprising the yelping vampire so much that he fell onto his back again. You were scared that you had crossed yet another line but to your own surprise you felt his arms wrap around you in return slowly.

And so you hugged him long and tightly. He was tense at first, but you felt him relax after some time. He even started to stroke your back again. You squeezed him and held onto him trying to offer him as much comfort and affection you could muster.

“For the record, I do like you, Astarion. You’re just annoying sometimes. But so can the others be, and I too”, you spoke into his chest, squeezing him yet harder. “And if�� if you need someone to maybe talk to or hug you or just, you know, lounge in the sun… I can also change back into a cat, if you want me to. I could be your cat with benefits so to speak”, you brabbled into his shirt before you got too shy to make the offer. Your words were muffled but you hoped he heard you.

He did and the vampire chuckled softly. “That sounds… nice. Thank you. I may take you up on that if you promise you will keep this our little secret”, he answered hesitantly. You lifted your head from his shirt but not letting him go. “Would you like me to change back into a cat?”, you asked him and blushed as you realised what kind of weird deal you had just made with the vampire.

“No, Tav, not this time. This… this is very nice too”, Astarion replied and gave you another – the second this afternoon! – genuine smile. And this time it felt even better, knowing it was actually meant for you. You smiled back and placed your head on his chest again. Astarion’s hands kept softly wandering over your back as you kept holding him.

This is where you comfortably remained until it was time to get back to camp. But you were both sure it wouldn’t be the last opportunity to enjoy a nice cuddle in the afternoon sun.

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber. 

[l3viat8an]

Mornin Ro~ *Hands you coffee in a cat mug*

Okay so like ya know how Beel and Belphie have like connected feelings and stuff. Like how Beel knows when Belphie has a tummy ache, etc.

So I would imagine they also know when the other is fucking MC. And this fact usually results in MC being an Attic Club Sandwich™

Like imagine Belphie is napping on the couch and Satan is sitting on a chair nearby reading and Levi is on the other couch (I think they have 2!?!?akskdndks) on his switch when Belphie starts mumbling in his sleep. That's nothing new of course so they just ignore it for now. Then Belphie starts shifting around and groaning until he fucking tumbles off the couch and he wakes up all irritated. But then he gets up and just fucking *bolts* to the attic and Satan and Levi just exchange confused glances. (Belphie is lightning bolt for MC)

Imagine Beel in the kitchen rifling through the fridge for a snack and Asmo and Mamms are chillin' nearby having a little discussion about what club they're going to tonight. Beel is in the middle of eating a head of lettuce like it's an apple when he finds a pudding in the back of the fridge. So he finishes the lettuce quickly, opening the pudding and he takes one bite before his eyes widen and hes like 'huh?' and he abandons the pudding on the counter heading to the attic quickly. And Asmo and Mamms are just so fucking confused because why tf did Beel just abandon his food.

So whichever twin was left out just busts in the room like "I'm here bitch" and the other just chuckles like "Took ya long enough" (RIP MC 😔)

~🍒

Nsfw content MDNI

Hiii 🍒!! *hands you a donut with sprinkles* ‘n I’m keeping the mug XD

They’ve got the twin telepathy thing but X 10 at least!!!-

I laughed at Belphie rolling off the couch and just fuckin’ running off ngl jsksjsk he’s a demon on a mission!!!-

and Beel leaving food??? Asmo’s gonna worry he’s sick, when really Beel’s just absolutely whipped for MC!!-

Now my random idea / add on to this is how much fun teasing them both would be!!!

Just imagine spending the day with Beel, doing errands or whatever around the Devildom.

Soft kisses and touches whenever you can and Beel even pulls you into an alleyway to make-out or more~

All while Belphie is at home! All those damn touches and teasing is killing him!! In the best way. He can’t even just run to where you and Beel are because you’re moving around too much….so Belphie ends up sitting in his bed waiting impatiently for you two to get home!

and when you do both boys are all worked up from your sweet teasing~

Beel pushing you down onto Belphie’s lap as the younger demons hands start pulling your shirt off and immediately nipping his way down your neck, leaving some lovely little marks~

While Beel move closer tugging on the waistband of your pants until you lift your hips and pulling them off.

Belphie’s hand moves down to dip one of his fingers into your wet pussy and he lets out a dark chuckle, “Really, already this wet MC. You really are a slut.” before you can answer or Belphie can tease you anymore Beel’s pouting and grabbing Belphie’s wrist to pull it away “I want a taste. Move.”

Belphie rolls his eyes and sighs, “You’ve had them all day and you’re still going to hog them? I guess you really are the avatar of gluttony.”

Beel just nods as if it’s obvious and moves down to lick at your sex. Groaning when he tease you on his tongue~ Belphie shakes his head, but before he can say anything else Beel’s pushing his tongue into you a little harder and you hips buck up the back down and into Belphie’s, meaning your practically rutting against his cock….maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all~

[kitsuga]

Windborne Dance. {Venti x Reader}

Description: 

A fic in which Venti and reader dance away their feelings; takes place during Windblume festival. 

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Tags: mostly fluff, slight angst but just in like. one little part i promise, drinking (it is venti after all), takes place during a windblume festival, reader is NOT mc/lumine/aether!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, genshin impact x reader, venti x reader, genshin impact, venti

Word Count: 1,005

A/N: Written on: May 14, 2021 

I didn’t mean for the slight angst I really didn’t but it came to me as I wrote it at like 2 am and was like ‘hm well damn, toss it IN’ so, my bad, sorry sorry (only slightly) 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As was natural in Mondstadt, the breeze was gentle and constant, bringing fresh air and freedom along with it. 

With the festivities in full bloom, the flowers joined in as well; petals danced about in the air, spinning and lunging in the most graceful of ways. The entire city was decorated from top to bottom with flowers, pinwheels, and colourful banners while the sounds of the bards' songs and the citizen’s laughter echoed off the building-- all paying homage to the Windblume Festival for a certain archon—the one who happened to be sitting across from (Y/n) at an outside table to one of the taverns. 

“Another glass!” 

“You’ve already had 9, Venti.” 

“Make it 10!” 

His giggle was as airy as the wind he controlled, throwing his arms into the air to stretch against the back of his chair. Aqua green eyes scanned the crowd nearby, a smile plastered to his face. (Y/n) sat back with their arms crossed to their chest, their eyes closed and a small smile on their lips. The two of them enjoyed one another's company in the opposite of silence.  

There was no such thing as quiet in Mondstadt, especially during a festival. As the two of them sat close to the center of town, the music was the loudest among sounds, overpowering the normal hustle and bustle of the locals and those running around enjoying their time. (Y/n) let the music wash over them; an upbeat melody with an undertone of something longing—they felt like it may have been written just for them. They heard Venti call out to them, only minorly interrupting their peace to ask if they’d like another drink as well. They could barely muster enough energy to give him a dismissive wave; they heard him mutter something along the lines of it being their loss.  

Unbeknownst to them, his eyes left the crowd and made their way to their form. They looked so relaxed, serene; the perfect picture of what Venti wanted to provide the world, and what he wanted in the world. He never expected to feel this way in general let alone with one of the most beautiful people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting; he expected to simply just admire them, enjoy the fact that their soul was so... genuine. However, freedom is as freedom does, and he found himself by their side in no time, easily finding himself unexplainably smitten. 

Venti stood up; his half-finished drink already long forgotten as he made his way closer to them, standing in front of them with a large smile on his face, simply waiting for them to notice—he knew it wouldn’t be long. 

“You’re blocking the light,” they whined, begrudgingly opening one eye to peek at him, “I was enjoying that. Almost took a nap.” 

“You’re like a cat.”  

“Are you gonna start sneezing?” 

“No.” He scrunched his nose, sniffed a little, and lied. “Come on,” Venti held out one of his hands, the smile now returning to his face, “dance with me!” 

“Here?” He had their full attention now as they sat up and looked at him, “In front of all these people?” 

“No one’s paying attention! They’re all dancing with their loved ones too; it’ll be fine!” 

Grabbing onto their wrist, he effortlessly pulled them to their feet, facing them and swiftly moving backwards towards the dancing crowd and upbeat music. His giggle was hardly heard above the sound surrounding them. 

“Loved ones?” Their comment fell on deaf ears. 

Venti was simply enjoying his time; bouncing about, holding (Y/n)’s hands and swinging them around, spinning them in circles only to playfully pull them close and dip them dramatically to get a reaction from them—he only responded in a loud laugh. After a bit of time, (Y/n) loosened up, no longer caring about the people who surrounded them and focused only on the aqua green eyes and bubbly smile in front of them. 

The sun started to dip below the rooftops, eventually making its way past the horizon as well. Normally, time would never really matter to Venti, but with (Y/n) so close to him-- aware of how warm they were within his arms and how tired and sluggish their movements had become—the reality of his situation kicked in. His arms won’t be warm forever. 

Eventually, he’ll lose it all; the sound of their laugh, the shine of their smile, the way they made his heart sing. He lost something special once—though it was a different love—and knowing it was going to happen again was something he always knew would happen, but never made the thought any easier. He simply wanted to stay just like this; his arms around them as they couldn’t help but fall asleep with their head on his shoulder, softly swaying to the music that had carried as gently as the breeze, the odd feeling of his heart getting ready to leap out of his throat. The wind will always die down, but it still had strength behind it; his sign to let go of worries and live in the moment. 

A soft smile and an equally soft kiss to the side of their head, he whispered to the wind he called a friend. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever; you know?” uncharacteristically somber for him, though his tone quickly changed, “But we can’t. So, let me tell you today that I love you.”  

Silence fell upon the two of them again; (Y/n) tightened their grip on his shirt while Venti’s eyes grew wide, not expecting them to have heard him. They moved closer, nuzzling their face against his shoulder to hide their embarrassment, and he let out another giggle that tore through his body. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Venti pulled away, moving his hold to their wrists and swung their arms back and forth, absolutely beaming at them before uttering the words that gained an exasperated sigh and laugh from (Y/n). 

“Time for another drink!” 

[acatnamedkitten]

Radiohusk

Radiohuskweek: You're the Exception/Overlords 700 words

Anyone else would have been eaten on the spot. Thank Satan, Husk had always been an exception when it came to Alastor. 

Even so, the cat was smart enough to keep his limbs tucked close and eyes on the ground. Showing submission to the Radio Demon was the only way through now. 

The massive nightmare snarled—but didn’t attack—as Husk slowly approached. It was only when the cat started humming that deer finally stopped growling, cocking his massive head in interest and decimating the roof of a nearby building with his antlers. 

It was one of Alastor’s favorite tunes, one that never failed to have him dancing Husk around the room, regardless of the time of day. It was also, as Husk had learned, one of the few things that kept the Radio Demon from attacking him on the spot. 

A good few feet away now, Husk slowed to a stop, humming all the while. After a few anxious beats, the Radio Demon finally lowered his head to better inspect this strange morsel. 

Slowly—always slowly—Husk raised his eyes to the monster before him. 

The Radio Demon’s head alone was bigger than Husk's whole body. The cat barely came up to his eyes, rack spreading the width of the street and up over the buildings. Blood and drool dripped from the titan’s mouth, his putrid breath punching Husk in the face on every exhale. The radio dials flickered back and forth as the Radio Demon examined the little kitty cat. 

After a minute, the monster seemed to recognize Husk. Still, it was only when the bar-cat was fairly certain the Radio Demon wasn’t going to swallow him whole, did he finally stop humming.

Making sure to keep his voice light, “Hey there, Big Guy. Ya havin’ fun?”

The monster straightened it’s head, grin splitting wider in agreement.

“Yeah? Did you get all the bad guys?”

The row of massive teeth opened to widen his smile and the deer started panting with excitement. Husk could almost see his tail wagging, but he was more worried about trying not to vomit from the smell.

“Bet they tasted real good too, huh? A real good snack for ya?”

The Radio Demon rumbled happily, bouncing a little in place as he licked his chops.

“Yeah, your such a good Radio Demon, aren’t you?” 

And here was the real test. As Husk kept praising the giant, he slowly reached out to touch it’s cheek. 

When the titan didn’t bite Husk’s arm off or pull away at the touch, the cat knew he was safe. He brought up his other paw, gently rubbing back and forth over the monster’s cheeks.

The Radio Demon slowly—almost imperceptibly—began to shrink.

“You like having a full belly, don't’cha? All filled up with tasty sinners?”

The Radio Demon nodded slightly, extra limbs gradually disappearing as he shrank a bit faster. 

“All full and warm… I bet your getting tired now too, huh?”

The monster closed his eyes slowly, leaning into Husk’s touch.

“Yeah, all tuckered out after cleaning up the city. You deserve a nice nap, don’t you?”

The demon nodded again, and, still on all fours—and still four times Husk’s size—leaned into the cat, tongue coming out to lick at his face and hands.

Husk just rolled his eyes, so long as the beast wasn’t eating him.

“You wanna go home and take a nap, Big Guy?” and a bath?

Another pleased rumble came from deep in the monster’s chest at the idea.

Down to three times Husk’s size, it was finally safe to ask, “Can I have my Alastor back now? So you can fit in the bed?” and the tub?

The monster huffed in annoyance, but opened his eyes once more, radio dials fading away. 

“There you are, Darlin’.” Husk, still holding Alastor’s face in his paws, leaned forward to kiss his dramatic idiot on the nose. 

Alastor shrank the last few feet and Husk scooped him up bridal style. Before any lingering survivors could check if the coast was clear—and witness the Radio Demon’s ‘vulnerable’ state—the shadows swallowed them both.

[toomanygoldfish]

Kuroo cat person!

You were writing a College language paper and it was kicking your butt. You had missed class scheduling period, so you were stuck with some of the most difficult professors on campus.  

Specifically this one professor had decided that you must be plagiarizing, but couldn’t find any evidence. All and all, the work he was having you do dragged late into the night. 

And on one particular night, you had a buddy. He was a small calico who had no thoughts in his head. You and Kuroo had picked him up off the streets. For some reason the cat had decided that you were the favorite person. 

“Kuroo! Come get your cat! Hese being an asshole!” You lightly try to tap the cat away from your laptop. When that doesn’t work, you blow in his face.

You hear footsteps coming down the stairs as the cat goes back to asking for attention. You turn around to face your boyfriend. “Take him, I need to get a paper done.” 

You were tired and really wanted to get this paper finished so you could sleep. Kuroo’s arms snake past you as he reaches for the cat. 

He picks the cat up gently and turns towards you. His face is twisted into a sarcastic pout. “i'm insulted that you think my cat could be anything less than perfect!” 

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face; “He is a perfect little bean, he is just sitting on my laptop and I need to get work done”

Kuroo smiles and looks at his cat. “Its his favorite napping place!”

You huff out a laugh “Your impossible”

You open your laptop and begin to write out your essay. Your boyfriend says in the room going to sit on a nearby chair. 

After about an half an hour of quiet, you hear his voice from your left. “…Do you want to hear a potassium joke?”

You swivel you chair to face him, he got this goofy little heron on his face. “Sure?”

He looks up at you and stares you straight in the eyes and says “K.”

You sit in silence for a second, then your eyes widen finally getting the joke. A cough escapes you throat as you try not to laugh.  “W-what?”

“You got it, i know you did” he looks smug.

You pause for a second to regain your composure before looking into his eyes and replying “I dont remember that element, but its on the tip of my tungsten.”

His eyes brighten with joy, “[Name], i love you so much” you smile back at him about to respond before-

Meow!

You glance down at the cat, who is now pawing at your boyfriend chest, trying to get attention. “It seems that your cat loves you too.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow as he realizes that you have not once referred to the cat by his name, “Say the cat's name babe, you know it.”

He places the cat in your lap. You look at the cat and heave a sigh. “…hello… Erwin” the cat looks up at you curiously before reaching up…

… and batting you right in the face. 

You jump up, startling the Erwin as Kuroo laughs. “OW” Kuroo keeps laughing for a solid minute before a single sentence makes its way out of his mouth; “I guess he really is just an … Arsole”

[smollbean42905]

Thighs

Remus Lupin was known as the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, with some admires from 7th year females, due to his gentlemanly habits and soft looks that seems to stay permanently in his eyes. But of course, he was taken, by you. A sibling of James Potter, best friend of Sirius Black, and teachers aid that travels between classes. You and Remus have been married for a few years now, having been together since their 5th year all that time ago.

At the moment, Remus is teaching a class with you sat all nice on his desk, with your nose in a book. You had some admirers as well, some male and female students that had a small school crush on you. Only because of how parental you could be and how much you related to them in some ways. As the older man teaches, his eyes keep flickering over to you, your legs crossed and thighs looking so nice in your pants. Your teaching Cape short and a nice violet color, a color that looked amazing on you.

Two nights prior was the full moon, so the love-sick werewolf was still on the tired side, luckily the full moons aren't to bad with you nearby. His wolf side loves you and luckily, you are an animagus, a cat to be frank. The fur matches your hair, with the same eyes your human form holds. You also stayed in his classroom before and after the full moon for a week straight, of course the other teachers know, and know of your relationship so no one minds. Except for Snape, but... He's Snape.. so... Anything that has to do with Remus he hates. Moving on!

As the class ends, Remus was done for the day. It was about 2 hours before dinner so this class was his final one for the day. He waits patiently with his usual soft smile, hiding his pain, and watches as his final batch of students leave. You raise your head from your book, your quill between your pointer finger and thumb from underlining important sentences in your book as the children file out of the room quickly. You give them all a smile at they leave and get off of Remus' desk, ready to help him relax.

The tired man turns to you and his smile falters slightly showing how hard he's fighting to stay standing with his perfect posture.

"Come here my love" Remus does as told and goes to you, his hands finding solitude on your hips.

"Let's go to your room, so you can relax a bit before dinner."

"I have to grade papers Dove"

"You can do that tomorrow, it is Friday after all" you speak softly to your love as he nods. You lead him up the creeky stairs up to your shared room. You both move through his office and into a door to the side, your bedroom. A moving photo of Sirius and James sat beside the bed. The room held earthy tones that you both loved, it was slightly messy with the bed undone and some book piles laid through the room. You help Remus get more comfortable, helping him take his shoes off and his belt off. His eyes watch your hands, knowing of the innocent handling you're currently doing to him.

You do the same, getting more comfortable before laying on the bed, him following you. Remus lays his head in his chest but can't seem to get comfortable for a long period of time. He slowly moves down, resting his head on your stomach, with your breathing his head moves up and down. So definitely not.

His head reaches your thighs and he goes between your legs laying on his back with your thighs on either side of the head. He lets out a small sigh, a sigh that sounded similar to a dog after a long day of naps.

"Comfy?"

"Very comfy my dove" you reach down and begin to gently play with his hair.