#so of course I had to give him blue purple yellow and green eyes first lol

[once-delight]

Another sneak peak of my Armand painting! I finished both eyes today and made them EXTREMELY wet and babygirl as you can see. Only need to finish the flowers, and then the hair and the shirt. If you can recognise the flower, albeit in it’s unfished state, you are a genius. If you read a lot of Devil’s Minion fanfic on Ao3 you might even already know what fic inspired this piece, otherwise you have to wait for the finished reveal!

I had to tweak both the shade of the flowers and Armand’s eyes to get them to meet in the middle and match as it’s said they do in the fic, but hush, it’s such cute symbolism in the story I had to cheat!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi there, i feel like our spouse doesn't react much to all the magical weirdness on our farm

Can i get some hc for Sdv+sve spouses one day waking up and being able to see an army of juminos recolting crops (farmer have like 4/6 juminos huts and lots of crops)

And the farmer just say "oh you can finally see them" while giving the juminos some raisins.

Heya 👋 Thank you for your ask, dear anon! (and I apologize for taking a little longer to answer 😅).

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SDV/SVE bachelors:

Alex can't believe his own ears! Spirits? For real? No way! The athlete dropped everything and quickly walked over to one of the Junimo and started poking at them, causing the little creature to squeak. "Alex, don't be rude. At least offer them raisins first." "Oh, sorry..." But he can't help himself because... a real spirits!

"Hey hon, I made you coffee-" Stepping out onto the front porch of the farm house, Shane found an army of apples with eyes and arms and legs following Farmer around like little chickens following mama hen. With a "fuck this shit, I'm out" face, he walked back home, thinking it was all from lack of sleep.

Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his orbits when he saw Farmer surrounded by apple-like creatures that were jumping and reaching for the raisins in Farmer's hands. The guitarist approached his spouse with an obvious question, but his stomach rumbled treacherously. "Do you have any raisins left for me?" Breakfast first, question later.

"Huh." That was all Sebastian expressed as he treated Junimo to some raisins. This creatures kinda cute, actually. "Sebby, dear, didn't it surprise you at all?" *Sebastian looks at the huge slime hutch, the coop with void chickens, the giant golden clock and the four tall warp obelisks* "Nah, not really, why?"

Not believing his own eyes, Harvey wiped his glasses and looked again, but what he saw before him had not changed. Farmer was still standing over the strange leaf house, and the apple-like creatures were still jumping around them. The doctor felt a little uneasy. He wants to ask. At the same time, he doesn't want to ask anything, lest he break his mind completely.

At first Elliott couldn't understand why there were different apples lying around his spouse. Red, yellow, green... blue and purple? Until those apples had eyes, arms and legs. "Good morning, Elliott, did you sleep well?" Apparently not, because the writer feels that sleep deprivation is making him see some... jumping apples.

Why would Magnus be surprised by the existence of Junimo? In fact, he's the one who introduced Farmer to these creatures. Interest in how his spouse had made friends quickly with the forest spirits, yes, but surprised? He is a wizard, he'd seen more stranger things than that in his life.

Well, that.... explains why Farmer refused Victor's advice to hire some helpers for the farm. Turns out his beloved spouse already has helpers... Little, apple-like helpers. Victor knows magic exists, but he didn't think he'd see something like this in real life. This is great, actually. Very interesting.

Does Lance see Junimo? *Chuckle* Of course, dear Farmer, and not only does he see them, but he even managed to ask the little forest spirits a few questions. For a good portion of raisins, because they love this treat so much. When else would the gallant adventurer have a chance to chat with Junimos, hm?

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

It had been about half a minute, and Maru couldn't let go of the idea that what she was seeing was the work of magic, and not Farmer's little robotic assistants. Magic, spirits... No, that somehow doesn't fit in her head. She's determined to study these 'Junimos' to see who or what they are. Erm, if the Farmer and the creatures themselves don't mind, of course.

You know that state when you have a lot of conflicting emotions bubbling up inside you, you don't know how to react to your own cognitive dissonance about the "magic" that is right in front of your eyes, but you try to stay positive for the sake of the person you love? That's what Penny was experiencing when her spouse was showing her forest spirits.

"Oh, so cute!" Abigail has a bit of magic in her, so of course she can see Junimo too. She's in awe of these forest creatures! And they are such wonderful helpers, harvesting the crops. "My spouse pays you well, yeah?" And the little Junimos jump around happily with tasty raisins in their little hands.

"Eeew! What is tha- Ah, okay, at least it's not rats." Apparently Haley can excuse cute magical forest spirits, but she draws the line when it comes to rats. Because she's terrified of those rodents, yuck. Junimos at least help her beloved Farmer with work, and they smell like forest freshness.

Merciful Yoba! Emily felt the presence of someone's unusual aura, but she couldn't explain who it was coming from. It turned out that all the time the little apple-shaped creatures had been at the farm and had helped her spouse! Kind spirits, how wonderful! And they like raisins? Oh, she sure has a treat for her new forest friends!

Huh, when Leah mentioned that Stardew Valley is "full of magic," she meant that it's full of inspiration for her future works, not literally... Oh, well. Yes, strange little creatures live with her and Farmer, so what? They're cute, kind, and hard-working. Great neighbours (not like she had when she lived in the Zuzu City).

Olivia thought all week that there were a bunch of mice running around the farm, stealing the ripe wheat. After expressing their fears to Farmer that their crops might be destroyed by pests, Farmer showed their wife that it wasn't mice, but little helpers, Junimos, who live there. ...She need a glass of wine. Maybe two.

"Oh, do you see them too, dear?" To be honest, Claire would rather not see them. Not that she minded the cute, erm, creatures, just... Eh, you know what? Why should she be surprised at all? There are so many unusual things and creatures (golden chickens, slimes) on her spouse's farm that there's no point in her being surprised.

Sophia was stuck somewhere between the "Adorable lil apples!" and "Eeeeep! What is that?!" when she saw her spouse surrounded by a dozen magical Junimos. The pink-haired girl floods Farmer with questions and tries to take pictures of the forest creatures on her phone, to show Scarlett (only they've scattered now, awww!)

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[yokohamapound]

Hi bestie! Great to find a new BSD blog! For starters, can we have some hcs on what kind of lingerie Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Akutagawa and Fyodor would buy their fem!s/o? ;)

Hey, I hope you enjoy these!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings: NSFW, lingerie

Dazai Osamu

This man is what we like to call an omniwhore. If it's on your body, he's interested in getting it off and getting you off.

Dazai's stated himself that he has quite wide-ranging tastes, so it's highly likely he'll just buy you something you'd feel sexy in, but if he had completely free reign...?

His tastes are pretty classic. He'd probably go for something black, with lace. He likes how it feels, warmed by your skin, against his hands, his tongue...

That being said, you don't need to buy anything expensive to seduce him. You could be lounging around in one of his shirts and a pair of thigh-highs and that would count as lingerie to him.

Dazai is someone who likes seeing his s/o wear his clothes, especially in a dishevelled, just-got-fucked kind of way.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya's favourite colours seem to be black and red, which isn't a surprise coming from anyone in the Port Mafia. Chuuya leans towards an edgy, femme/homme fatale style if he's choosing lingerie for his lover.

Think bustiers, garters, body harnesses, edging into bondage chic, I guess you could say. These are his tastes and you don't have to subscribe to them, but if you do he'll be shoving you into closets, back seats of cars, his personal office, the club bathroom. Pretty much anywhere he can get you alone and start ripping off buttons.

There's a certain part of your body, and anything that brings his attention to it is enough to get Chuuya raring to go.

Thighs.

Stockings are great, but those little harnesses or garters that go around your thigh get him bricked up like an 18th Century window.

If you're feeling cheeky, you can lift up the hem of a skirt or let him see the outline of it under your pants. Man is gripping the edge of the table.

"You're killin' me with these, dollface."

Edogawa Ranpo

You know those candy thongs?

Jokes aside, I feel like Ranpo doesn't buy you straight-up lingerie as much as he occasionally grabs a little costume for you. Straight-up sex is probably kinda boring, even if it feels good, so why not have some fun with roleplay?

You could be a cute little nurse and he's the world's greatest detective.

Or you're a cute little maid, and he's the world's greatest detective!

These aren't cheap costumes, though—he'll get you some nice, high quality stuff and not those itchy, shiny polyester things from Shein.

If he does buy you underwear, it has cute prints and colours. I feel like he likes stripes, pastel ones. Pinks and blues and soft yellows, because it lowkey reminds him of candy wrappers.

However, one time he did just bring you a bag from the grocery store.

"Ranpo, why is there a can of whipped cream?"

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, do not send Akutagawa into a lingerie store because he will panic and he will destroy the store with Rashoumon. At first he will be highly dismissive of buying you underwear—are you not capable of buying it yourself?

Give him time to come around to the idea that he can choose what he sees on your body, the intimate garments that are going to hug your skin under your clothes, for his eyes only. Then he gets it.

Akutagawa's taste definitely runs to dark fabrics: deep burgundies, black, of course, deep purples and emerald greens if he's branching out a bit. Lace and frills, but also a touch of leather and metal. You can't take the Port Mafia out of the boy, after all.

I don't know if this is a Port Mafia-induced kink but he also likes body harnesses. The straps against your skin, especially if they're cinched a little tight against your soft flesh, remind him of when he binds you in Rashoumon and spreads you out underneath him.

This works with normal outfits too, actually. If you wear something floaty with a body harness underneath, and he sees it? Especially when you're out in public or on the job?

There's gonna be a whole different kind of screaming coming from that dark alleyway.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I'm hardly original in thinking this, but Fyodor would strikes me as the type to lean toward something clean, pure. Angelic, one might say.

White is very common, especially delicate fabrics like lace and silk. Fyodor likes to get his cold hands on you, to feel you shiver at his touch, and the contrast between warm, soft skin and cool, slippery silk pleases him.

The sight of your legs sheathed in pretty white stockings, lace clinging precariously to your upper thighs—that's a temptation he struggles to resist, especially when you sit on his lap. He's a stocking man and will ensure you always have plenty in your drawer.

Little babydoll nightdresses too, usually delicate and translucent.

Oh, and blindfolds.

He also has a lovely collection of pretty silk ropes to tie you up in.

[flufftailforest]

Alexi's First Dress:

“Come on kids, we’re gonna be late!” The mousey mom called from the bottom of the stairs up to her two children. 

Alexi was deep into his wardrobe and couldn’t find anything that he would have liked to wear. Tonight was a special occasion as their father had just received a work promotion, and the family was going out to celebrate. Marci, Alexi’s twin sister, wasn’t having nearly as much trouble, as she didn’t really care what she’d be wearing and grabbed the first thing off the floor. A simple green dress with a black belt around the waist. This was enough for her, and so she was just laying on her back, dangling her paws over the edge of the bed, feeling bored.

“Why do we even have to go? I mean, I know Dad’s gotten a new job thing, but can’t he and Mom just go? I wanna just stay here and read my new book!”

Alexi wasn’t listening, the little blue mouse still couldn’t find anything that spoke to him. Pulling his head out the wardrobe, he turned back to his sister.

“Why do all my clothes have to be so… dumb. I don’t like any of them!”

“Just pick something at random,” Marci said, dismissively. “There’s no reason to be picky.”

Alexi did feel like the picky type though. His parents had always thought he was a peculiar boy, as he didn’t like what other boys his age liked. He’d often been caught playing with his sister’s dolls, rather than the action toys his dad brought him, he thought the cute dolls were so much cooler than the Buff Beaver Squadron action set. 

One time he saw his sister get herself a cute little hair bow that she didn’t like, but he thought it looked cool and asked if he could have it. Marci happily let her brother have the bow and even helped him tie it into his hair. However, when he went downstairs to show it off, his mother, who had guests over, instantly snatched it away, saying that it was for his sister, not him. 

His parents always made him feel like something was wrong with him, that he liked the wrong things, giving him doubts that felt like dark clouds over his heart. It always felt wrong to him when he was wearing the clothes that were brought for him, and he wasn’t sure why? Clothes were just an accessory to the majority of the animals here anyway and were mostly only for special occasions like tonight. So why did the shirts and trousers bother him so much? 

Alexi looked at all the clothes he’d thrown on the floor in his search and then picked up a discarded pair of black shorts, thinking maybe these would be okay. However, looking back down at the floor, he saw a flash of yellow under where he got the shorts from. One of Marci’s dresses was left on the floor, since the purple mouse never put her stuff away properly. Alexi picked up the yellow dress and instantly felt an urge, this was the one, this was the perfect thing to wear tonight. 

“Hey Marci, do you mind if I borrow this for tonight?” Alexi asked, casually. 

“Borrow what?” Marci asked, looking over confused. She saw her brother holding the yellow dress against himself, seeing how it looked and she immediately sat up. “You want to wear one of my dresses?” She asked, looking surprised.

“Yeah!” The blue mouse responded excitedly. “Can I?” 

Marci jumped off the bed and had stars in her eyes! 

“Of course you can! You- you really want to?”

“I mean, it’s pretty, it’s fancy, it’s perfect for tonight!” 

“Oh my gosh, yes! You’re going to look so amazing! Put it on, put it on!”

Alexi’s smile brightened up the room and he immediately tried to step into the dress, and pull it up like a pair of trousers. Marci stopped him. 

“No, you moron, it goes over your head; Like a shirt! Here…” 

Marci picked up the dress and began to help her brother, first, putting it over his head, and then pulling it down, followed by helping to pull the arms through the straps. Once the dress was completely on and straightened, Marci stood back and took in the sight of her brother. Alexi couldn’t stop looking down at himself either as the dress seemed like the perfect fit.  

“You look so cute!” Marci said, absolutely loving to see her brother wearing a cute dress like that one. She’d always supported her brother's desires and shared her stuff with him. This was no different, just another level of sharing for the two. “Let's go show mum and dad!” The young mouse then took their twin by the hand and the pair ran down the stairs, with huge smiles on their faces.

“Mom!” Marci called as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Look at Alexi! Doesn’t he look pretty?” 

“Oh no,” A moan came from the living room as their mother approached the hall. She herself was wearing a two piece dress of beige. “Please tell me it’s not another bow, I just-” Their mom stopped mid sentence. Seeing her son wearing a dress made her freeze, and then instantly she was looking like she was about to burst. “Absolutely not! This is no time for your silly games, young man!”

“What?!” The twins both said, shocked as the mother stormed over to them. 

“You get upstairs right now and put on some proper clothing, I’ll not have you humiliate us in public like this!” 

“But mom,” Marci took a step forward. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“What’s wrong? He’s a boy! Boys don’t wear girls' clothes! Now get upstairs and change, right now!” 

Suddenly their father came out of the living room, he was wearing a fancy blue suit with a red tie.

“What’s all this shouting about?” he asked. “We don’t have time for-” He stopped as he took in the sight of his son in a dress. Alexi looked up at his father, hoping for perhaps some support. The big blue mouse removed his glasses and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, Alexi?” 

Alexi looked down at the floor, saddened at the disappointed tone of his father. 

“I was just sending him back upstairs,” the mother said, “in fact, I’m going to pick out his clothes myself!”

“That’s not fair!” Marci whined. “Alexi really loves the dress and looks just as good as the rest of us. What’s the problem?” 

“Dresses. Are. For. Girls! Marci, I don’t know why you’re encouraging this frivolous behaviour!” 

“But I really like it! I do!” Said Alexi, starting to tear up. He couldn’t understand why they were so against it? Why’d he have to dress a certain way, play with certain things. What was wrong with it? Why were there girls only clothes but yet not boys only clothes? It wasn’t fair!

“Alexi…” The father started, seeing his young boy about to break down in tears. “F-fine, okay, you can wear it.” 

“What?!” All three of them said, in mixtures of surprise, happiness and disbelief.

“Look, we’re already late as it is, and if we’re any later, we might lose our reservations. I mean, look, no one can really tell he’s a boy unless we mention something, right? So if anyone asks, we’ll just… we’ll say they are both girls, okay?”

“A girl? I… Can I really be a girl?” Alexi says, his eyes alight with the same spark of happiness that he had when first trying on the dress. 

“Oh my gosh!” Marci says to Alexi with glee in her voice. ”You’re gonna be my sister!” 

“Only if people ask! A-and only while we’re out tonight.” Their father responds, clearly without any other ideas.

“Fine,” Says their mother, giving in. “But tomorrow, we’re dealing with this, once and for all.” 

She seemed to be at her limit, but tonight was supposed to be a celebration, so she tried to push it all down and bury it. Alexi couldn’t stop smiling, she was going to get to go to a fancy restaurant, while wearing such a cute dress. As they all leave the house, Marci grabs Alexi’s hand and they both walk a little ahead of their parents. She then whispers into the blue mouse’s ear. 

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be my sister, if that’s what would make you happy!”

Alexi smiled brightly, like the dark cloud of confusion was finally leaving her heart.

“I would love that, more than anything!” 

Story by @nevelation7

Art by @suzylind

[cacophony-eg]

Trick or Treat? (Chimera Shipping Fic)

A/N: Happy Halloween!

here's a little Chimera treat for this holiday season. =3

Red Son gazed upon the Monkie Boy and Dragon Girl in awe, tears of joy welling in his eyes at their offer, his hair warmly glowed and flickered with soft flames. The demon never thought this day would come, he had hoped they would one day see the darkness and choose the path of villainy but had never expected it to happen. Nor could he ever anticipate that the two heroes would invite him to join in on an evil plan of their own making.

"Of course, I will join in on your crusade to extort civilians all across the city!" Red Son declared, nearly choking on his words as his chest swelled with pride.

"Well, I wouldn't call it extorting..." MK began, glancing over at Mei for assistance.

"We usually call it trick or treating," The dragon girl stated, with a twitching smile holding back a giggle. This was honestly turning out better than she expected, she had imagined the Bull Prince to call their yearly mission childish and turn down their request.

"Yes, Yes, I am aware of the modern way of celebrating all hallows eve." Red Son assured with a wave of his hand "Your party disguises themselves in costumes to not be recognized while going door to door demanding treats or trinkets in exchange for not harming the ones who reside there or their land," The fire demon explained.

"Huh, maybe it is low-key extorting?" Mei pondered out loud, with a slight nod of agreement towards Red boi.

"But legal, traditional extorting?" MK reasoned, with a slightly nervous smile.

"Now enough with the semantics" Red Son asserted "you two claimed to have a plan already constructed."

The Dragon Girl and Monkie Boy shared a devious smile that caused The Prince's heart to flutter and cheeks to warm.

Mei dashed to a nearby wall, pulling down a large map of the city, with coloured coordinated circles scattered all over it, as Mk rushed over with a handful of markers.

"Green symbolizes places that give out soda," MK began.

"Yellow are places that give out goodie bags," Mei added.

"Red is..." The Ponygirl started as The Noodle Boy used the markers in his hands to do some air drumming.

"FULL-SIZE CANDY BARS!" They both cheered.

Red Son nodded looking over the map, they had done a splendid job in recon, "and what does the blue symbolize?"

"Healthy snacks..." Mei answered in disdain, as MK stuck out his tongue in disgust.

The Demon Bull Prince's lips twitched upwards in a slight smile but used one of his hands to cover his mouth. It was a childish notion toward healthy food, but he could understand the sentiment. When you desired one thing... or two things, anything else only felt like a distraction or an obstacle towards your goal.

"So what is your plan of attack, where do we strike first?" Red questioned looking over the map, mentally clustering key areas together and calculating a route.

"Well, that's kind of the main part we need your help with..." MK explained with a shy, eager smile. "We both figured with your great planning skills-"

"We could reach our goal to collect the most Candy we ever have!" Mei declared with a fiery determination. "And become Halloween Candy Royalty!"

Red Son could feel both his cheeks and hair heat up as they both looked up at him with unwavering looks that held no doubt he was the perfect addition to their team.

"I will see what I can do" The prince coughed out; to mask his blush. Plucking a purple marker from MK's hand, the demon stepped closer to the map as he scanned over what they already had. Red Son, temporarily tuned out the two chatty mortals as they talked about possible costumes.

The disguises were inconsequential to the demon, he needed to focus on the task at hand. The Prince would not fail in proving himself a key member of their trio. The three of them had accomplished much together, the demon hoping to make his... What did Mei call them… frienemies? Into a stronger type of companionship. Help guild the hero's to become something more sinister, and this crusade would be the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Red Son silently promised himself that he would not be replaced by anyone, he would not lose Mei or MK to anyone else. He would prove to be superior to all others so the two of them would have no doubt about his capabilities and-

"Oh that's a great idea that way you and I can be Red Son's first and second Mates" The Dragon girl agreed with her best friend.

The Demon Prince had to reel himself away from the Map as his hair burst into a large gust of fire "WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?!" Red shouted in shock, turning to face the two heroes.

"Oh just which one of us should be your first mate and which of us should be your second mate," MK answered casually.

Making Red Son's jaw nearly drop to the floor. The three of them had not even discussed about becoming each other's intended or any courting steps, and yet the two heroes were already talking about who would be his first MATE!?!

"MK, you should be the first mate, you're a lot better at leading than I am, plus you two balance each other out," Mei suggested.

"No way Mei, you and Red Son work great off each other and click together way more, you should be the first mate," MK countered his best friend.

Red Son's eyes widened as the two heroes argued back and forth, constantly stating that the other would be a much better first mate than themselves for the prince. The Prince listened to them in stunned silence, as their argument continued; making several good points along the way that even the demon hadn't thought of, and may very well use to convince his parents of their trio courtship.

“Even just visually you and Red make a better pair” Mei argued back “Your cinnamon roll energy with his hot pepper vibes jell way better, and will get way higher appeal”

“No way, you and Red Son are like a bonfire together, you two are bright and blazing no matter where you go, everyone will pay attention to the two of you.” MK replied back.

“Come on MK, you would keep Red from going overboard, that’s perfect first mate material,” Mei declared to her friend.

“Yeah, but you would be jumping overboard with Red, that’s way better first mate material,” MK argued.

"ENOUGH!" Red Son shouted, the prince feeling as if his whole body may combust if they passively praised him anymore. "If I were to take a Mate, I would have you both become my Mates at the same time, so you both are First Mates!" The Prince declared leaving no room for argument.

"Hmm I guess that works" Mei nodded.

"Red Son would be the Captain so it is his choice who’s the first mate," MK concluded.

The Prince blinked several times "Captain?"

"Yeah, of course, you'll be our Pirate Captain," Mei said happily.

Something in Red Son's mind suddenly shattered "you two were talking about crew mates..." The demon groaned face-palming himself, feeling like such a fool to assume these two would ever so casually desire him as their mate.

"What did you think we were talking about?" MK innocently asked.

"NOTHING!" The Prince snapped, wishing to end this conversation.

"What other kinds of mates are... There..." Realization hit The Dragon Girl first as she gasped and her face lit up. The Demon Bull Prince quickly whipped around so his back was facing the two of them and was once again looking at the map.

"STOP DISTRACTING ME, IF YOU TRULY DESIRE THE PERFECT CANDY COLLECTING ROUTE" Red Son shouted at the two of them, hair still a flickering fire, as a mix of anger and shame towards himself burned inside of the prince.

MK looked over at his demon friend with a worried frown. Mei leaning towards her best friend, whispering something into his ear that had the Monkey King's successor's face morph from confusion, into surprise, then a bubbly kind of joy.

The two best friend's shared a silent conversation that consisted of hand gestures and mouthing words before the two of them looked over at the unassuming Prince with a new kind of determination in their gazes.

The two heroes stroll up to either side of Red Son, each hooking one of their arms with the Prince's, leaving no room for escape.

"So you would take both of us as your mates at the same time?" Mei clarified, pulling herself closer to the bull prince as she held his arm a little tighter.

"How would you plan that out?" MK asked, his tone not sounding as innocent as it had a few moments ago.

Red Son's hair became a bright flame once more as he looked back and forth between the Dragon Girl and the Monkie Boy. Both shared similar devilish shine in their eyes, and devious smirks as they looked up at him. Their gaze on him ignited a different kind of fire inside of the Prince.

[ashestoroses018]

SEPULCHRAL (Part One: The Katabasis)

When your brother dies of the plague destroying Athens from within, you go on an Odyssey to save his soul from the Underworld.

If you happen to fall in love with the God of the Underworld on the way, well, that can only help your cause, right?

Hades/Reader 18+

There are steps to getting into the Underworld. This you know. The first step being, of course, to find exactly where the entrance to the Underworld is. The entrance to Hades. Orpheus’ story said he followed Hermes to an entrance and sneaked in behind him. You’re sure that Hermes won’t fall for that trick twice, so your next best bet is to follow the sages who worship Hades or Hermes and see if they have any secret insights.

When not questioning or following sages, you’re reading what little you’re able to, watching performers act out The Iliad and The Odyssey. Generally, you’re taking in every bit of information available about the gods. Still, though, you pray every day in hopes that one of the gods will save your brother, so you will not need to defy the Fates. 

Still, though, in quiet moments, you find yourself unable to keep from reminiscing about him. About Alexios. His deep brown curls that you long to ruffle once more. The hazel of his eyes, so expressive and unique. 

One of your favorite memories is of when he accidentally drank from your cup instead of his own. 

“Sister!” he had exclaimed, “How do you drink that? It tastes rotten and bitter!”

“Wine is for grown ups, little Alexios.” You had chuckled, taking your clay mug from him and handing him his own. 

“I never want to be a grown up, if I must drink that!” And so he hadn’t. Perhaps the Fates had touched Alexios with a hint of future sight.

You remember merely laughing in response, telling him how silly an idea it was that he would not grow up, and that he need not drink wine, should he not wish to. What you wouldn’t give for one more chance to laugh with him. To see him.

It takes weeks of harassing the sages to finally get any answers, and all you are told is that you must continue to pray to the gods, for the gods are the only ones who can truly interfere with the Fates. You swear at the sage who tells you this, and he promptly has you removed from the temple. They bar your access from then onwards. 

One day, you find yourself sitting outside the temple, just far enough out of reach that the guards won’t have you forcibly removed. The flowers bloom, despite the desolation of the city. Beauty even in darkness. Reds, greens, yellows, and purples muddy your senses. The blue of the sky is blinding. It should be gray, with storm clouds and incoming rains. A perfect day. Unseemly.

“I feel like I can hear your thoughts,” a voice whispers. You whip your head around to see a little girl, perhaps a year or two older than Alexios. Her eyes are hazy. Blind. Her hair is a tangle of curls, and the clothes she wears are stained. You know not with what.

“My thoughts?”

“Yes. Your sighs are so loud. Perhaps even the gods can hear them. Why are you sighing?

You see no reason to lie. You’re the talk of the town, as it is. “My brother died from the plague. I mean to get him back.”

Instead of the usual response of laughter or a pitiful look, the little girl gets a thoughtful look on her face. “I’ve heard whispers. Perhaps from sages, perhaps from the gods, themselves. I know not.”

The way she speaks belies her years, and it is a jarring experience. “You pray to them, but you’re hiding from them.”

“I’m not hiding,” you say, getting defensive.

“That’s not the truth.” She whispers your name. How does she know your name? You’re immediately on guard. “You’re hiding from the gods’ will. From the will of the Fates. The very notion of getting someone back from the Underworld is one of fear. You’re refusing to accept reality.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Fine. Then heed my words. I’ve heard whispers…When you lose one sense, like eyesight, sometimes the gods grant you another. If you wish to defy the Fates, to defy the gods, and break into the land where no living mortal should be, I can help you.”

“What do you want in return?” Your voice is barely over a whisper. Hope and fear grip your heart in equal measure.

“Nothing. I give out of the kindness of my heart. Besides, I’m not certain you could make it to the Underworld, anyway, so I’m not defying the Fates.” She pauses, a cute smile coming to her face. Perhaps she would have been friends with Alexios, in another life. Perhaps she will in the future. You voice as much.

“I hope greatly to be friends with your little brother, should you prove successful. Listen carefully, for I will only say it once. You must go to the Nekromanteion on the banks of the River Acheron in Epirus, near Ephyra. It is a temple to Hades and Persephone, and if you pray at the altar, you will find what you seek.”

“Ephyra? That is all the way to the northwest. Would it be faster by boat or by land?”

“I cannot help you with that decision.” She says your name once more. “Please, be cautious. If you make it to the Underworld, there is no telling what you’ll face. Kerberos and the River Styx, at the least.”

You thank her, before walking away. It is only after she is long out of sight that you realize you never caught her name. 

It takes you three days of running errands and doing seamstress work to save up enough for passage on a merchant vessel out of Athens. It costs you nearly the entirety of your earned drachmae, and they warn you that it’s likely you’ll be turned away at Ephyra, due to news of the plague, which is why they offer you passage for only twenty drachmae. 

The ship is a solid vessel, with enough space for cargo in the hold as well as the standard rowers. You are to sleep on the deck. The white sails are emblazoned with Athenian heraldry, and you’re warned that Spartan ships may choose to attack, which is another part of the reason your fee was discounted. With the siege on Athens abandoned due to the plague, Spartan warships are targeting merchants more and more.

The waters do not agree with you, and you find yourself seasick nearly every day. ‘You’ll get your sea legs!’ the sailors had promised you, but you find that they must have been lying. Every morning, you pray to Poseidon for calm waters and clear skies. For the most part, he appears to listen.

One day, there is a bad storm that nearly knocks you overboard. The captain of the ship warns you to hold on to a rope, and that is what you do for the next several hours as you travel through the worst of the storm. Even as raindrops larger than the palm of your hand cascade from the skies, you hold tight to the rope. Your hands burn with the effort, and you pray to Asclepius for quick healing for the rash.

Luckily, it takes only a few days of relatively leisurely travel to get to Ephyra, with no Spartan forces attacking your ship; and you disembark gladly, nearly kissing the ground upon arrival. The city is lively, with many colorful outfits and flowers adorning many windows. You do not take much time to examine your surroundings, far too concerned with your task at hand. Next stop: the Nekromanteion. Local citizens tell you the temple is open to the public, so it is your very first stop. 

The temple looms high and large, nestled in a cave at the crux of the river. Sound seems to simultaneously echo and stop here, and everything feels hallowed in these halls. There are statues and portraits adorning the floors and walls, and a surprising amount of color paints the area. For gods based in the Underworld, Persephone and Hades have a very bright temple. It doesn’t seem dissimilar to Athena’s Parthenon back home.

“What do you seek?” you are asked as soon as you enter. “You can speak with the dead, here.” The voice comes from a bedraggled woman, her back hunched and her gray hair wiry with age. The wrinkles on her face are deep-seated and are so distracting you hardly notice that she is blind. You’ve encountered quite a many blind people, recently. Peculiar.

That said, speaking with the dead would be nice, but finding your brother and saving him will be even better. Why speak with him, when you can hold him and play with him again?

“I seek a katabasis. I was told that this was the place to go.”

The woman turns to you, clearly drawn by the sound of your voice. “I am the Oracle of the Nekromanteion. I can help with that which you seek, but I must warn you: most who attempt katabasis die in the attempt. Whether I will help you stands to be decided.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you say. “My brother was only six when Thanatos took him. I mean to take him back.”

She rubs her chin. “Defying the Fates, I see. A cause worthy of Odysseus, himself. I must warn you, little one, I do not see you coming back from this journey, even if I do help you.”

“Do you see my brother coming back, Oracle?”

She hums. “The visions aren’t clear. It is a possibility, I will admit.”

“That’s enough for me. What must I do?”

“You must prove yourself to me before I help you. It is a big risk I take, helping you. The gods can be…fickle, as I am sure you are aware.”

You nod. “How should I prove myself, O Oracle?”

“If you spend ten days and ten nights in prayer to Hades, I will consider helping you.”

Hades is not your patron god, but you’ll pray to him if that’s what it takes. The Oracle leads you to a side room where the sages must sleep. She points you to a simple straw bed and advises you that this is where you may sleep. Meals are clearly shared in this room, judging by the fire for cooking in the center of the floor. 

The first day and night, your prayers amount to naught but variations of ‘please let my brother go’ and ‘I promise I’m not trying to subvert you; I just want my brother back’. Not unsurprisingly, the prayers go unanswered, but you keep at it during all hours of the day, except when it is time to eat or sleep. Your knees ache from kneeling at the statue of Hades and Kerberos, but still you persevere.

Days two and three are spent fasting, as the sages recommend. You don’t feel any different, aside from quite hungry, but supposedly this shows your devotion to the cause, and apparently the Oracle appreciates it. How she would know, considering she’s blind, is beyond you. 

Four, five, and six, are spent in mind-numbing silence, your only thoughts and prayers surrounding a hope for a successful travel to the Underworld. That’s probably too much to ask for, but you find you don’t care. Your knees have long-since become accustomed to the hard stone floor, and the bruising has mostly abated.

On day seven, the Oracle offers to sit with you in prayer, allowing you to inhale of her smoke. It’s a change to the monotony of praying at an altar sixteen hours a day, so you agree.

“Breathe in deeply of the smoke and let it take you. It is an honor and a privilege to breathe of the Oracle’s smoke,” she says. “I only allow this, because I had a vision of the gods. Do not mistake me.”

You nod solemnly, breathing in deeply and holding the smoke within your lungs, as you were taught by a neighbor to consume cannabis. It does not take long for your mind to open beyond that which you have ever experienced before.

“Pray, now, to Hades. Hope that he answers you.” The Oracle’s voice feels distant, yet at the same time, it surrounds you completely. 

“Hades,” you say, though you’re not certain whether you say it out loud or just in your head. “If you can hear me, please free my beloved brother, Alexios.”

A moment later, you hear a calm, soothing voice. It is at once cold and not unfriendly, a bizarre combination. “I cannot defy the Fates, but I can allow you to speak with him.”

“Is that you, O Hades?”

“Yes.” His response is simple, but it leaves you reeling in a way you’re not prepared for. “I will allow you to speak with your brother, in hopes it will bring you peace.”

A moment later, you hear your name in a voice you recognize at once. Tears spring to your eyes. Alexios.

“Can you hear me, Sister?”

“Yes, yes I can, Brother. How are you? Is the Underworld treating you well?”

“It’s cold. I’m scared, but I feel…safe here. This is where I’m meant to be, Sister.”

“No, it’s not Alexios! You are meant to be in Athens, with me! Have you drank of the waters of Lethe?”

“Not yet. They tell me I will soon, and I’ll forget. I don’t want to forget, but they tell me it’s important.”

“Try to hold off as long as possible, Brother. I am coming for you, I swear it!”

“I trust you, Sister. Be safe.” With that, your brother’s voice disappears, and you hear the Oracle cough, though her lungs must be familiar with the smoke by now.

“Are you appeased by what you heard, young one?”

You shake your head in the negative. If anything, you’re more determined to save Alexios than ever before.

With a sigh, the Oracle leads you to an altar at the back of the cave, where the three rivers, Acheron, Pyriphlegethon, and Cocytus are said to meet. You had always heard that Pyriphlegethon was a river of fire, but really, the water just seems warm. How three rivers exist off of one river is beyond you. Guiding you to anoint yourself in the waters of each, she leads you to kneel at the altar in prayer. 

“Offer up that which you hold most dear, and the gates will be open to you. May the Fates be on your side. You have not yet completed your ten days, but I know you saw something in the smoke, as did I.” 

She kneels beside you and closes her eyes in prayer, before she begins chanting in a tongue that you don’t recognize. The tongue of the gods?

There’s nothing you have more valuable to you than your brother, so you place all of your drachmae on the altar. It’s all you have, aside from the clothes on your back. 

You’re not sure how long you’re praying at the altar or what, really, you should be praying for, but you suddenly hear a gasp, before you’re falling through the water.

Somehow, when you break the surface of the river, you’re standing on land. You’re also dry. Colors here are muted, a welcome change from the vibrancy you’ve become used to in the last few weeks. In front of you sits a ferry, upon which stands a hooded figure. 

“Can you pay the toll?” he asks, voice gravelly. 

You shake your head no. You had given all your drachmae as an offering at the temple. 

“Then find your own way!” The man you presume to be Charon shuffles away, rowing his ferry away from you. It seems he didn’t know your status as a living mortal. Interesting.

There is nothing in the tales of the gods that says you can’t just…swim the Styx, so that is exactly what you intend to do. As you begin to step into the water, though, a cave catches your eye. Shrugging, you walk over to it.

The inside of the cave is surprisingly homey, with patchwork quilts and beautiful, hand-painted clay pottery. The walls are painted with glowing colors, a myriad of flowers, birds, and small animals. This is a beloved home.

Sitting on a comfortable looking chair is a rather tall woman, her hair cascading in layers of blue. “How come you to be in my presence, Mortal?”

“I prayed at an altar and found myself here,” you say. Somehow, you find that you cannot lie to this woman, nor hide the truth from her. She must be Styx. Her eyes are a striking blue that matches her hair, and you find that you can’t look away from them, though you want to.

“I see. And what just cause have you to be in the Underworld, child?”

“I’m here to save my brother, Alexios. The Fates were wrong to take him, and I must save him.”

She smiles at you kindly. “Though you cannot lie to me, I appreciate the honesty nonetheless. I sense that you’re not trying to deceive me. I will grant you a boon. Swear by my name that you mean no harm to the Underworld or its denizens, and I will grant you passage across my waters, Mortal.”

“Why would you help me?”

“Why, indeed. Perhaps because you took the time to speak with me, perhaps because I wish to interfere with the Fates whenever I can. Regardless, swear the oath, and I will grant you safe passage. I can’t guarantee your safety beyond my waters, but I can guarantee your safety across them.”

“I swear by the River Styx that I mean no harm to the Underworld or its denizens.”

The smile on her face grows wider at the ease with which you swear the oath. “Come along, then. I’ve a boat you can use.”

She leads you to a small boat not dissimilar to the one Charon was ferrying. Handing you the oars, she whispers a few words over the boat, itself. “Good luck, Mortal,” she says as a farewell, waving you off. 

The boat is a small thing, with room for no more than two people. That’s just fine for you, and you lift the finely crafted oars and prepare to cross the murky waters of the river. You wave back to her and set off. The waters are no kinder to your stomach than the travel from Athens had been, though that feels like a lifetime ago, now; despite only a few hours, at most, having passed. Time seems to move differently here, though, and you get the sense that you were talking to Styx for much longer than you were praying at the altar. 

Though the waters are choppy and you definitely see monsters the size of legends swimming around, Styx keeps her word and no harm comes to you. It takes only half an hour - or what feels like it - for you to cross the river from her cave. Disembarking, you aren’t certain what to do with the boat. It seems to know, though, because as soon as you touch land, the boat sets off of its own volition, back in the direction of the cave, which you can no longer locate. Odd.

Now that you’ve crossed the river, you’ve about come to the extent of your knowledge of the Underworld. You know of Elysium, Tartarus, and Asphodel Meadows, of course, but you know not the layout of the land nor how to get where you need to go. Most likely, Alexios is in the Asphodel Meadows…Hopefully he hasn’t drank of the waters of Lethe, yet. That is your only thought. Your only prayer. 

The fields are filled with beautiful gray-white flowers, and the sky is a complementary hue of gray-blue. There is not a cloud in the sky, nor a sun to be seen, yet you feel calm and warm, as though you’re walking through a field on a beautiful spring day. There is a faint hint of lavender on the air, though you see no lavender plants.

Aimlessly, you wander, hoping you’ll find your way somehow, like you did with Styx. There seem to be no monsters nor people, here, and your sense of direction is completely thrown off by the land. No longer can you see the river, but you feel as though you haven’t been walking long enough to have lost sight of it. As you walk, your inner musings wander once more to Alexios, and you find yourself lost in the memories of your favorite person. 

When Alexios celebrated his sixth year on the mortal plane, you got him a sweetcake and sewed him an Athenian soldier doll. When he saw the doll, he ran to you and hugged you with Herculean force. 

“Sister!” he had cried. “How did you know I wanted a doll? The other boys don’t play with dolls. They say only girls play with dolls.”

“Well,” you had said, “sometimes girls play with dolls, but boys can, too. And what is stronger than a warrior?”

The grin that had covered his face was wider than any smile you had seen before or since. “You’re right! Nothing is stronger than a warrior. Thank you, Sister.”

“Of course, Brother. Happy name day. Six years, now,” you had whispered to yourself, getting wistful. Six years, it had been, since your mother had been with you, caring for you. Six years raising Alexios with the help of your neighbors. Six years of happiness and sorrow. You’d had to grow up so fast. Alexios had had to grow up even faster.

He had said your name, you remember. It was always a rarity he called you by your name, instead of ‘Sister’. “I love you,” he had said. Though the words were never a rarity, the solemnity with which he had said them was. He had said them as though he truly understood the meaning of the words, rather than just repeating what he felt was the proper thing to say.

“I love you, too, Alexios. More than the sun, the stars, or the wind in our lungs.”

Alexios had hugged his doll to his chest, then, before yelling a thank you and running off to play soldiers with his doll. He had deserved to feel like a child, even just for his name day. 

You’re torn from your recollections by the sight of what can only be Kerberos. Though all of the tales have been proven true, so far, you’re especially surprised by the sheer size of him. He must be at least ten feet tall, with each head spanning at least two feet. Currently, he sleeps at what you presume to be the gates of the oft-hinted at Keep of the Dead, but you’re certain with ears as large as his, he’ll hear any attempt you make at sneaking by him. Even so, you’ve not much other choice, so you move towards him, as quietly as you can manage.

You’re successful. For the first few seconds, anyway. Taking a stray step too close to the giant, three-headed mastiff, you get the chance to truly see his serpent’s tail. You don’t get the chance to see if he truly has lion’s claws, but you know he doesn’t have a mane of snakes, for he is immediately running towards you, and you feel that snakes would be hissing in anger. 

There’s no way to outrun the beast, but you try anyway. He catches you in less than fifteen seconds, but you’d like to consider it a good effort, regardless. If this is to be how you die, at least you’re already across the River Styx. That’s one problem resolved!

Kerberos stops just short of you, however. He tilts his three heads inquiringly, and you take the chance to see that, no, he doesn’t have lion’s claws - those would be much too small for a beast of this caliber. His claws are his own. Each appears to be razor-sharp and as thick as your hand is wide. 

Seeing as how he’s not actively attacking you, you take the chance to glance around you. You’ve made it to the gates of the mysterious keep; how you managed to run in the correct direction is beyond you, honestly. Kerberos makes no moves towards you, and you make no moves closer to the gates. Why you’re at an impasse, you’re not certain, but you will not die here today. 

“Good boy, Kerberos.” You hear from behind you. Why do you recognize that voice? It’s itching at the back of your head, but you can’t quite place it. “Heel, boy.”

The giant of a dog’s three tongues loll out as he excitedly bounds to the voice, giving you the opportunity to turn around and see who is speaking. The man before you is very nearly a giant, standing several heads above you. His eyes are red, his hair black, and there is a gentle scar on his lips. He very well may be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. You’re immediately on guard.

In a less friendly tone of voice, he says your name. “The Oracle warned me you would come, that another god had given her permission to let you through the gates to my domain. She did not say which god, but he and I shall have words, when I find out. As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, I am Hades, the god of the Underworld, and I must ask: what, exactly, do you think you’re doing here?”

This was not in the plan. Repeat: this was not in the plan. Your heartbeat speeds up; your mouth dries; your palms sweat. “I–” You attempt to speak, only to find that your voice is swallowing your words. Coughing, you try again.

“I am here to save my brother, Alexios!” you exclaim all in one breath, hoping you sound far more courageous than you feel. Though the stories all tell of Hades’ fairness, he is also often portrayed as cold and unfeeling and sometimes quite underhanded. He stole Persephone from her mother, after all!

In response to your words, he just sighs. “Your brother is meant to be here. Nothing you can do can change the will of the Fates.”

“How do you know it is the will of the Fates, that it is Fate? Perhaps, Lord Hades, it is Fate that I should save my brother, and he should go on to become a great sophist or poet or historian!” 

Hades rubs his chin at that. “I’ll admit - that is a new one. I can’t just give your brother’s soul back to you, though.”

“Has he drank of the waters of Lethe?” you ask, defiantly. 

“Not as of yet, no.”

“Then there should be nothing holding me back from bringing him home!”

“There is everything holding you back, Mortal!” His voice has suddenly risen from its previously even tone. You flinch. Seeing this, he takes a breath and speaks more evenly. “Even the gods cannot directly defy the Fates, Mortal. Your tales of us should warn you, no?”

You simply nod in response.

“Good. So you are aware that there is nothing more I can do for you. I’m truly sorry you came all this way, but I hope that you find a peace with your grief.” He goes to turn towards his keep, but you call after him.

“Lord Hades! Please, wait! What of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He scoffs. “Orpheus with his lyre, who didn’t trust me enough not to turn back and doom his Eurydice? Yes, I remember the fool. One whose love was not strong enough to die for his wife, nor was it strong enough to trust the gods, themselves. Foolish.”

“Orpheus only lost a wife he’d known a short time. Of course his love was not strong enough to die. I would die a thousand times over to save Alexios. I do not need to be with Alexios to be happy. Oftentimes, I’ve thought and realized that his life would be better, were he to be adopted, than it ever was with me. I will gladly trade my soul for his. I would drink of the waters of Lethe and happily stay in the Underworld, if it meant my brother had a chance at a good life.”

Hades beckons you to follow him into the keep. You do. As you walk, he begins to speak again. “You cannot simply trade your soul for your brother’s, no matter how pure your love.”

“Then I will fight for his soul!”

“Hold on, Mortal. I’m thinking.”

That gives you pause, so you immediately clamp your mouth shut. Hades leads you down a maze of walkways, into a giant, dark building. For the first time, you fully take in your surroundings. The Underworld isn’t nearly as dark and horrifying as you initially expected it to be. It’s no earthly world, with its vibrancies, but it has its own unique, muted beauty to it. Even the keep, a dark, sandstone structure, would not be completely out of place in your world. That is an odd thing to think. 

He leads you through several hallways, into what you think must be his office. Sitting down behind the stone desk, he motions for you to sit across from him. The chairs don’t look uncomfortable, the padding a deep yet muted red. Looking down, he shuffles a few scrolls and nearly spills an inkpot, though you catch it for him. He thanks you, before sighing.

“I cannot just give you Alexios’ soul, even if I wanted to. My job is to shepherd souls, not to release them.”

“Is there anything you can do, Lord Hades? I will do anything to save my brother.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

Hades’ face screws up in thought, and he is silent for what must have only been a moment but feels like an eternity. “I can offer you a chance, Mortal. Not a promise.”

“Anything!”

“Mortals have no place in the Underworld, you know, and they taint their souls with every second they spend here alive. It’s why so few make it in, much less make it out.”

You hadn’t known that, but you aren’t about to let him know.

He continues. “As such, a fitting trade would be thus: spend one year of your mortal life in the Underworld as my guest; feel the Chthonic magic and learn of the inner workings of my realm. You are to have no contact with the mortal world nor with your brother Alexios in this time.” Though you move to interrupt, he holds up a hand. “For all intents and purposes, you will be dead. Your soul will be corrupted, and you will likely never make it to Elysium on your own deathbed. At the end of the year, if you have fulfilled all of my requirements, I will give Alexios the choice to stay in the Underworld or return to the world of the living. In this time, I will not force him to drink of the waters of Lethe, but should he wish to, he may, and you will have no way of knowing.”

You bite your lip. That is a steep price, indeed. To taint your own soul for a chance at your brother’s future? There is no question. “I agree.”

Hades snaps his fingers, and an attendant - a goat-legged man, a satyr, walks in the room. “Get me Styx. She is needed for a contract.”

In the silence, you speak up. “If you don’t mind my asking, Lord Hades, where is Lady Persephone? In the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, she was also presiding over the judgment.”

“She spends six months out of the year with me and the other six months on Earth. Currently, she is on Earth. In fact, she only left a few weeks ago.” He shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered by it. Interesting. 

Not even ten minutes later - though, you admit, it may have been longer; time works very, very strangely here - Styx arrives. She graces you with a proud smile. 

“I see you made it to Hades. Congratulations, Little One. I hope you get what you’ve been praying so loudly for. You’re the talk of the gods, you know.”

“Hush, Styx. You’re here for a reason, not to gossip.” Hades’ tone is firm but not unkind.

“Yes, yes, my lord. How can I be of assistance?” You think you catch Styx rolling her eyes at the lord of her realm, which surprises you.

Hades turns to you, the look on his face stony and serious. “Swear by Styx, Mortal. Swear that you will spend a year in the Underworld with no contact with the mortal realm or your dear brother. Swear that at the end of the year, you will give your brother the choice to live or remain here. Swear it, and it shall be done.”

“I swear by Styx. I will spend a year here in the Underworld with…with no contact with the mortal realm or my brother. At the end of the year, I will give Alexios that choice to live or remain here. I so swear.”

“She swore with her whole heart, my Lord. There was not an ounce of dishonesty or malintent. I believe her. I should also tell you that she swore another oath to me: to do no harm to the Underworld or its denizens.”

“Thank you, Styx.” He sighs, turning to you. “I have guest chambers, for rare occasions when other gods come to visit. They’re usually visiting my wife, but regardless. Follow me.”

Somehow, you understand the twisting paths through the keep better this time around, as if your oath magically made you part of this world. That’s silly, though! Oaths couldn’t possibly have that much power, could they?

He leads you to a nondescript room that is larger than your entire shack in Athens was. In the center of the room sits a large gray and white bed. There is a seating area where you presume you’ll take your meals, and an empty bookcase. The walls are a muted gray-blue, and there is a single window that looks out over the fields of asphodel flowers. You don’t think you’ll hate it here, curiously enough.

“Feel free to do whatever you’d like with your room. Believe it or not, there are shops in the city below, and the dead have little need for money. I’d like for you to at least be comfortable while you’re here. At no point should you ever feel like a prisoner. You can leave whenever you like.”

“I will not leave until my brother has the chance at a future,” you say firmly.

For the first time, Hades cracks a smile. It is beautiful. “I believe you.”

“Thank you,” you say simply, smiling back up at him. 

He leaves you to your own devices, then, telling you that should you wish to go to town, you need only feel your intent strongly, and the realm will lead you there. You fully intend to go at some point, but with Hades gone from the room, your exhaustion hits you all at once. You’ve barely slept in seven mortal days and had been miserable for the days leading up to that, on the ship. By the gods, you’ve barely slept since Alexios died. Now that you have a chance to save him, the relief fills your body, and you fall on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly. 

[whisker-biscuit]

SlyFox Day 7: Blue

Carmelita wasn’t really the kind of person who thought about color.

Color was one of those things that was just another part of the world around her, like cars and buildings and trees. She gave as much thought to it as she did kitchen appliances; something mundane, something normal, something that could be a little more special than usual sometimes but, on the whole, existed in the background compared to everything else in her life.

One of her least favorite questions when it came to small talk - which was impressive, given how much she couldn’t stand small talk in the first place - was asking what her favorite color was. Even as a girl, she didn’t really have an answer. Yellow was nice, and so was orange, and green, but other colors were nice too. People would ask her the question and then look at her like she was stupid for saying she didn’t have a favorite color. Then they’d start asking follow-up questions like “why not?” or “are you colorblind?” or even “how can you find joy in life if you don’t appreciate the simple things?”

That last question had been asked at the annual Interpol New Year’s party by a newcomer; a purple tigress with sharp eyes and a condescending smirk who would become the bane of Carmelita’s existence barely two years later. But here, at that party, she had simply been another face in the crowd of new recruits all clamoring to make an impression on the higher ups.

The fox had been so done with the party, and the small talk, and the color thing as a whole, that she had finally snapped, “I dunno, it’s blue, I guess. Satisfied?” and promptly stalked off to find a drink.

After that, blue had become her go-to answer for just about everything. Asked what her favorite color was? Blue. Asked what she wanted her remodeled bathroom to be painted in? Blue. Asked what description she could give of the thief who had once again slipped through their fingers with only a calling card and an afterimage as proof of his crimes?

Blue.

She made the connection somewhere in Prague, faced with the threat of jail time and brainwashing and her entire life crumbling around her. She remembered so very clearly following Sly across rooftops while police sirens screamed through the streets below; the pounding of adrenaline in her ears and the ache of too-little oxygen in her lungs and the weariness of two weeks of mental torment in every line of her body as she kept her eyes locked on the blue sweater and ringed tail ahead of her.

It had been an unconscious thought, a sort of ‘huh’ realization that didn’t truly register until she was hunting the Cooper Gang down in Canada, chasing after that damn flash of blue as he lifted her keys right out of her back pocket. She had been irritated at herself for the association, but that association had stuck, and ultimately it was just a stupid answer to a stupid question, anyway.

And then, years later, long after Sly had faked his amnesia to be with her and she had called him out over that fake amnesia so they could finally be honest with each other, they had both sat down and gone through the list of every question they could think of. He had, of course, asked her what her favorite color was. She, already resigned to the reason behind her choice, had answered honestly.

He had chuckled and teased her for it, as expected, but what had thrown her for a loop was that he’d then replied, “me too.”

“Well, of course it is,” she had told him. “With how often you wear it, how could it not be?”

“Actually, I don’t wear it because it’s my favorite color. I wear it – or at least I started wearing it because it was my father’s color.” His smile had turned nostalgic at the corners, tinged with a scar that would never fully heal. “He had a blue sweater on the last night he was alive, and that’s the thing I remember most before…everything that followed.”

Carmelita had frowned at that, having a million follow-up questions but scared to drive him to silence. Even after all that time, it was a very rare thing that he talked about what he remembered of his lost family.

“So…why is blue your favorite color?” She had settled on in the end, because it was the safest.

Sly had given her a fond smile, so full of love that she thought her heart might stop. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m looking at the reason right now.”

And then, he had reached forward to brush curly, blue bangs out of her face.

Perhaps colors, Carmelita had found, were not so mundane after all.

At least…not the one that mattered most.

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

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A/N: Aaaaand that's a wrap! Thank you @galactic-dragoness for hosting SlyFox week again this year! I had a blast with these prompts!

[luizastarry]

I am going through your old avm art because it is so tasty and would like to know more about the kingdom of one au and the bros au

thank you!!! haha i would post more often but my new school has very strict demands ahhh

Kingdom Of One is a bad ending AU! specifically of AvM season 3. neither Purple, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green nor Blue could stop King, but, well, the game wasn't going down so easily. it would protect itself no matter the cost.

King is dying. trapped in the illusion of a perfect life, a beautiful castle, obedient servants and his little joy, finally back, he doesn't want to move on. it eats him from the core, his code gets less and less stable every day, with his form quite literally forming cracks. it hurt for a while, but then he became all too numb to it.

he'll fall apart, eventually. after a few years or decades, doesn't matter. he is relatively docile, the game is playable, nobody will remember him.

just don't glitch your way through the nether ceiling, for all who step into the monochrome castle never get out.

---

Bros!verse is like my second oldest AU. i made it shortly after Mango had his debut. started out as a crack AU, since Mango was generally seen as Just Evil and Herobrine was considered dead.

the old backstory was that, basically, to get the Block's power Mango needed Herobrine's cooperation, which Herobrine refused to give. after some convincing, Herobrine made a deal with Mango, in which the stickfigure had to find a special cube (like on Alan's PC) to prove himself and after that Herobrine will let him do whatever.

a more competent cryptic entity would watch Mango from the shadows, but Herobrine followed the guy EVERYWHERE. while being a major annoyance in Mango's eyes at first, Herobrine's terrible humor and lighthearted nature eventually rubbed off on Mango and they became friends.

Mango won in The Ultimate Weapon due to immediately having Herobrine's support on his side after getting the block, messed around a bit and then moved to the Interspace to live with Herobrine.

NOW this didn't really fit with the whole my-child-died-to-this-game-and-i-hate-it backstory of Mango introduced in The King, so i had to change the plot a bit:

Mango catches Herobrine's attention after he purchases the command block on the black market. as the game's guardian, of course, he didn't particularly like the stickfigure's plan to destroy the game, but didn't feel like it was actually going to go anywhere. "too ambitious", he thought.

eventually, he decided to show himself and try to scare him off, but there was little he could actually do outside of Minecraft, in Interspace. Mango knew of this and genuinely didn't care. Herobrine's large ego was hurt by this lack of fear, so he made a bet that Mango is so weak that he will never achieve his goal even without Herobrine's intervention. seeing this as just getting rid of an additional problem, Mango took the bet.

from here the things go similarly to the og AU, albeit Mango is much more depressed. Herobrine slowly pieces together why the guy is doing this, though Mango doesn't admit it. Mango takes care of himself a bit more, mainly because he doesn't want such a jester as Herobrine see him at his worst.

when the plan is finally in its execution stage, Mango doesn't really feel like there is nothing else in life anymore. both of them were, consciously or not, postponing the day it would have to be done, but Purple's intervention the push came to shove and the beginning of Season 3 played out, however, when Mango gets the block, Herobrine is summoned to his side with full power, defeating the color gang easily. it was obvious neither of them wanted to follow the next step anymore, so they flee to the depths of the Interspace, where nobody will find them.

they proceed to live pretty casually, with no real need for money, since the block can just summon anything they needed. Herobrine tries to slowly approach the topic of. dead child but Mango is successfully avoiding all the questions for a while so Herobrine lets it go. for now.

Purple is also quite important later on, but that will be for another day perhaps.

[artstar1997]

Trolls: Origins

Long long ago, in a more peaceful time, all the troll tribes lived together in harmony. At the eve of silence, the trolls created the strings and life became one big party. Each troll formed a tribe based on the music they love, pop, funk, classical, techno, country, and hard rock, but one tribe stood out. The hybrid trolls came together and formed the platinum tribe, one tribe that loved all kinds of music. All of the tribes look up to the elders, who lead them in their everyday lives. Each elder is known for their excellence and skill. 

“Elder Bass, you are here!” A funk troll said. 

“I have troubles, Elder Thunder!” a hard rock troll asked his elder.

“What can I do, Elder Scylla?” a techno troll asked hers.

It was all well for the trolls as generations of elders that came were always there for the tribes when they needed help but in that particular era, everything is going to change. A wedding was held for two pop trolls, their current pop elder Brook and her husband. All of the trolls were celebrating their wedding in a huge party like no other. 

“Congratulations!” one of the country trolls said. 

“We are so proud of you,” a funk troll added.

The trouble started on the night of the Pop Elder’s wedding. Elder Brooks’s cousin Tansy stood on top of a pillar and addressed the crowd of trolls. He was an orange Pop troll with blue hair wearing a striped mantle and maroon dhoti pants. Actual tansy flowers decorated his mantle. He announced to them;

“Ladies and gentle-trolls, give it up for the bride and groom!” He gestured to the stage behind him, on which sat the sacred harp with the six strings of the oldest and most powerful tribes. In front of the harp, Elder Brook and her new consort Leaf stepped before it. Both of them wore matching gold and white robes. The crowd cheered for them as they raised their clasped hands together. 

Brook had pinkish purple skin, a pink nose, teal hair and eyes with yellow sclera and green irises. Leaf was solid green over his entire body, save for his eyes which were violet. 

“Congratulations!” They all cheered. 

Joining the happy couple onstage was the Grand Priest Cygnus. He is a white haired troll with pastel purple skin, pastel blue, golden tattoos, and silver eyes, wearing a pastel rainbow colored robe and a swan feather headdress.

“By the power vested in me by the Platinum Tribe and by the Great Creator Harmonia, I bless this Union! And now, let the couple’s first dance commence!” Upon saying this, he strummed all the strings on the harp. A beautiful stream of music notes floated over the happy crowd. 

Soon, Brook and Leaf danced together, and were soon joined by the other tribal elders and their spouses. Tansy watched them from his perch as a rose gold haired troll with soft pink skin and a flamingo pink nose, wearing a luminous, hologram-colored tube dress with silver tattoos, approached him.

“Hey Tansy, aren't you gonna dance with me?” she asked him. 

“Lyra, you're here? Aren't you supposed to be with your brother?” he asked her. 

“He’s fine with Miri,” she answered as she watched Cygnus dancing with his fianceé, a bipedal seafoam colored funk troll with emerald hair, turquoise stripes, and violet limbs, wearing gold jewelry.

“So, are you up to dancing with me?” he asked her. 

“Lead the way,” she answered and went to the party to dance. 

They danced an elaborate waltz to the music. Their feet felt lighter than air, like the winged Classical Trolls. 

“This is wonderful,” Tansy exclaimed. 

“Yeah it is,” Lyra agreed. 

Onstage, Elder Brook pressed herself against Leaf’s shoulder as they danced in circles. 

“Truly you are the only one who understands me,” Brook whispered in his ear. 

“Of course I do, I will do anything to make you happy,” he responded. 

“I know you will,” she said as she kissed him. 

“It’s so nice that Brook finally found someone,” Cygnus said to Miri. 

“They are very lucky,” the classical elder added.

“I wish I could be next,” the country elder squealed. 

“I'll be the first one to get it!” the hard rock elder bragged. 

“No, me!” the techno elder giggled. 

“Just be patient guys, love will find a way for us,” the funk elder told them. 

As time passed by, their happiness was prolonged when Brook and Leaf were finally expecting and the tribes celebrated them for the achievement when the egg was laid. A few weeks later, Tansy watched Elder Brook give a speech to her fellow Pop Trolls. 

“While the other genres pride themselves on their distinct sounds and unique melodies. We have something I like to call “Mass Appeal”. We don’t settle for a niche fanbase, we aspire to satisfy everyone! That’s why our music has such a wonderful blend of elements, best best parts of all the genres. We must never forget that or fail to be proud of it.” 

“Oh, Brook,” Tansy sighed. 

“Your cousin is quite the talker,” said Cygnus as he came up next to him. 

“Yeah, she always talks about how great pop music is,” he sighed. 

“I love all kinds of music but it often depends on my feelings and expressions,” Cygnus said. 

“My brother is right about music,” Lyra agreed.

“Sometimes I worry about her,” said Tansy. “She always has to be right about everything.”

“What is wrong?” she asked him. 

“It’s Brook,” he said. “Lately she’s been saying some creepy things about the harp and accessing its ‘full power’.”

“But that's not right!” Cygnus gasped. “Nobody can play that harp because if anyone from our tribe plays the strings there, they'll take over all of the music.”

“I know,” said Tansy. “I thought marrying Leaf would snap her out of it, but I guess he can’t get through to her.” 

“All of the elders of the platinum tribe passed the warning from parent to child, and I have a bad feeling about what might happen if it ever happens,” he said. 

“Calm down, brother, we just have to be prepared, in case this happens,” Lyra said as she tried to calm Cygnus.

“Maybe we should get the other elders to talk to her,” Tansy suggested. “She might listen to them.” 

“All this nonsense, there’s unforeseen consequences when anyone plays the strings,” Cygnus complained.

“How did you know?” He asked his best friend.

“The secret was passed down from our parents to us, which spanned way back to our ancestors,” he answered.

“Since Cygnus and I are the current tribe leaders of the Platinum Tribe, we are the only ones who know about the secret of the strings,” Lyra added. 

“I’m worried about Brook, maybe we should meet up with the other troll elders to discuss this,” Tansy said. 

“Got it,” the siblings agreed with him.

Soon, the three trolls gathered with the other troll elders to discuss Elder Brook’s delusional speeches. 

“This is getting suspicious,” the funk elder said. 

“What is this meeting about?” the techno elder asked them.

“Elder Brook is turning the Pop Trolls against the other genres,” Tansy told them all. 

“I knew it!” the hard rock elder shouted. 

“But why would she do that?” the classical elder asked her. 

“I don't know but whatever she is planning, we’ll be ready,” Cygnus said. 

“She’s not planning anything,” Tansy insisted. “We just need to talk to her. Stage an intervention. Make her see reason.” 

“Ok, how will we do it?” the funk elder asked him.

“First, we’d better include Leaf in the plan…” Tansy began speaking but was interrupted by a tremor in the earth. All the trolls were stunned by the quaking earth. 

“What is happening??” the techno elder gasped. 

“Everybody, whatever we do, don't get out,” Cygnus warned them. 

Tansy and Lyra held hands and braced themselves against the quake. After a few hours, the shaking stopped.

“Oh my goodness,” gasped the country elder. “That was terrifying!”

“Is everybody okay?” Tansy asked them. 

Cygnus looked around at the others. “I think so,” he said. 

Suddenly, two trolls ran into the meeting place. They were a lesbian couple; one a blue colored rock troll with a leopard print top and leather jeans, the other a pop troll with mint green skin and swirly lilac hair, wearing a dress made from a lace doily. 

“Come quick! There’s been a horrible tragedy!” one of them shouted. 

“What happened, Fira?” Tansy asked her. 

“There was a landslide near Pop Village, and Leaf was swept away!” Fira's wife answered. 

“Willow, lead the way,” Cygnus said. 

They went to the site of the landslide and there, a lot of trolls huddled around it. Some were digging through the dirt, trying to find a body. 

“I'll go and help them,” The rock elder said as she rushed to help them dig. Soon, they are able to find Leaf but he is already dead.

“Oh no!!” Cygnus gasped. 

“It's too late,” Lyra added.

“OH MY GOD!!!” Brook screamed as she threw herself onto Leaf’s body. She sobbed heavily, her body shaking. Around them, trolls were bowing their heads in mourning or pressing their hands together in prayer. At one point, Brook looked up and noticed a techno troll floating nearby. 

“YOU!” she screamed as she pointed a finger at him. “You were with him gathering wood! This is your fault!” The techno troll flinched away at her accusation. 

“Cousin! You know that’s not true,” Tansy said as he clasped her hand in his. “No one could have seen this coming. It was an accident out of our control.” 

“Yes, nobody can manipulate death and nature because it happens randomly, we cannot bring him back, it has to happen,” Cygnus added.

“Oh shut up you stuck-up self-important…” Brook broke down crying again before she could finish. Tansy patted her back and helped her stand up. 

“Come on, let’s get you to your pod,” he told her. The crowd parted for them as he led her away. 

On the day after the incident, a funeral was being prepared by the troll tribes as everybody was pitching in to arrange it but Elder Brook stayed behind in her pod. Tansy went to see her, and found her sitting on the floor muttering to herself, surrounded by pictures of Leaf.  

“Brook,” he spoke as he approached her. “The funeral is being prepared. You should come say goodbye.” 

“I can fix it,” Brook muttered. 

“What?” Tansy asked. 

“I can fix it,” Brook said as she jumped up. “The sacred harp can be used for healing, right? We can use it to heal Leaf!” 

“No we can’t! There’s no bringing back the dead! That’s unnatural!” 

“How do you know? No one’s ever done it before.” 

“Because it’s wrong!” 

“No, it’s because they’re all cowards! Not visionaries like us!” 

“Us? Don’t tell me you’re including the tribe in this idea?” 

Brook stood completely still for a second, like a wild predator caught in the act of hunting. Then she laughed cheerfully and told him, “Of course not. It was just a thought. I wouldn’t really do something like that.” 

“Okay,” he said warily. “Don’t scare me like that again. I know losing him is hard but you still have so much to live for. You guys had an egg right? That egg’s going to need all the love you can give it.”

“Right, of course.” Brook said as she glanced at the colorful troll egg sitting on her bed.

“I warn you Brook, nobody can bring anyone back from death,” Tansy warned her. “It’s not natural.”

“Yes, yes. I understand,” she responded without paying attention. 

“So, you’ll come to the funeral?” he asked her.

“I'll think about it,” she answered.

As the preparations were on the way, Brook was thinking about something. She wandered deep into the forest until she wandered to the other side of the woods. There she saw a massive, almost tree-sized stone. 

“What’s this?” Brook wondered out loud. She explored around the stone and on one side, she saw an elaborate inscription. 

HERE BE THE INSTRUCTIONS ON CALLING BACK THE DEAD FROM THE ETERNAL AFTERPARTY. 

“Calling back the dead? As in resurrection? So it is possible!” Brook said as she smiled a terrible smile. “And if it’s possible, that means it's natural. Which means I can do it!” 

She wrote down the instructions and started preparing for the ritual. She went back to her pod and listed the ingredients that she would need for it. One of the ingredients was something called “the perfect musical harmony.” Well, she knew exactly what that meant! All she had to do was get the harp. 

Meanwhile, at the funeral, everybody was preparing to say goodbye to Elder Leaf. Everybody wore black and were carrying flowers to place around Elder Leaf’s coffin.

“Tansy, I’m sorry for your loss,” Cygnus said. 

“Thank you,” said Tansy. “It’s such a loss. He was such a good troll.” 

“It’s alright, we’re here for you,” Lyra added. 

“All of us are,” Miri nodded.

“Is Elder Brook here?” Cygnus asked his best friend. 

“I don’t know, she’s been heartbroken and disillusioned at the same time,” he answered. 

“I tried to visit her but she wasn’t there,” Lyra added. 

While they were talking, no one noticed a figure in a black veil, making her way to the sacred harp. She lifted the entire thing with her hair and played an eerie chord. 

“Come with me, my Poppets!” She called out, and some of the Pop trolls in the crowd became hypnotized by the music. Everyone at the funeral gasped and covered their ears.

“Brook?” Tansy asked but she paid no attention to him. 

“Pick up Elder Leaf’s coffin and bring him with us,” Brook instructed her mind-controlled subjects. They did so. And before anyone could stop her, she played a rondo on the harp. Then she and her followers disappeared in a whirlwind of hair. 

“Don’t tell me that Brook is going to revive her husband? That’s not the natural way of life!” Cygnus gasped as he removed his headdress in anger and gathered the remaining elders with Tansy, Lyra, Miri, and the other troll tribes in his pod. 

“She is crazy and disillusioned, so she would go through that forbidden process to do it,” a hard rock troll agreed with him. “I say we will fight them and take back the harp!” 

“No, we will each steal the string,” the hard rock elder answered. 

“But elder Storm, why do you want each of you to get the string representing your music?” Another rock troll asked him. 

“But why do the tribes have to separate?” One of the pop trolls butted in.

“It’s the only way we won’t let the resurrection ritual happen again,” Cygnus answered. “We have to stop Brook’s madness once and for all.” 

The five elders, led by Cygnus and Tansy went into the caverns and began the forging. The funk and techno elders provided the metal. The rock elder heated the fire and the classical and country elders helped beat the metal. Cygnus and Tansy worked together to shape the blade, flatten it, heat and cool it with the hard rock and techno elders, sanding the blade, and strengthening and sharpening it. When they finished creating the hilt, Lyra showed Cygnus a box of gems, in which a round, white gem stood out. The platinum troll embedded the round gem on the hilt and the elders used their magic to combine the sword. As the round gem itself was embedded with magic, the others gems were empowered with magic as well. Now, it is finally ready.

“It’s ready,” Cygnus said when he held it up. 

“But who will wield it?” Tansy asked him.

“It should be Cygnus of course,” said the classical elder. 

“But I don't know if I can lead the trolls, the only thing I did were spiritual duties, I don’t know how to fight,” Cygnus responded in fear.

“But Cygnus, you were always there for me when I was down and you supported me through my struggles and trials,” Lyra said. “You're the best older brother that I have.”

“And the best friend I ever had,” Tansy added.

“You believe I can lead all of the trolls?” He asked all of them.

“We don’t just believe,” said the funk elder. 

“We know you can,” finished the rock elder. 

“Thank you all,” said Cygnus as he held the sword. “Alright, time to make our move!” 

Soon, the troll elders and the other trolls are sneaking into the location where Elder Brook and her followers are.

“Oh no, we’re too late!” Tansy gasped.

“But not for long,” Cygnus said as he took the sword and led them to the place where Elder Brook is conducting the resurrection ritual. She was playing a haunting melody on the harp. Cygnus called out to her. 

“BROOK!! Stop this madness!” 

Brook glanced up from her playing. “Hello Cyg,” she said calmly. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this!” Tansy growled out of hate. “What you are doing is going against the circle of life!” 

“What I’m doing is improving the circle of life. I’m going to free us all from death and war.” 

“Improving? No! You’re doing it the wrong way, death is a part of life,” Tansy added. “And when you bring someone to life, Leaf will never be the same when he is raised from the dead!” 

“And how do you know that?”

“I know about this because it was a warning that my parents told me,” Cygnus said as he used his sword to fight her. She tried to defend herself with the harp but he knocked it away with just one slash. 

“Defend me, my subjects!” Brook called to the mind-controlled Pop trolls. They all came and stood in front of her. 

“This is gonna be fun!” The rock elder smirked as he, Tansy, Lyra, Miri, and the elders blasted them away with their musical instruments.

“Thanks guys!” Cygnus said 

The troll elders continued to use their music against the mind-controlled pop trolls while Tansy, Lyra, Miri, and Cygnus continued their forward. 

“Tansy, it’s been so long since we fell in love, if our tribes separate, I’m afraid I won’t see you again,” Lyra said. 

“No, I can’t let go of you, you are the only troll I loved and if the tribes were to separate after this, we would always be together and you’ll join us,” Tansy said. 

“I know, I’ll tell Cygnus about my decision to be with you,” she said. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Tansy said as they both kissed and continued fighting the mind controlled pop trolls. 

When Cygnus reached Brook, he started to fight her as she tried to continue the ritual but she couldn’t because of Cygnus’s attacks.

“I can’t believe all this just to get Leaf back from the dead? You are nothing but a delusional idiot!” Cygnus said as he used soundwave attacks on Brook. 

“And you are a backwards thinking priest pretending to be king,” Brook said as she dodged his attacks. “Your opinion means nothing to me.” 

“Too bad I’m the king of this troll kingdom now,” he said as he kicked her into the center of the resurrection ritual while the troll elders sneaked in and stole the strings from the harp. Tansy grabbed the harp while the remaining five pulled the strings in different positions.

“YOU!” Brook screamed as she faced them, her hair flailing out like blue fire. “Give those back!” With those words, she leaped at them, looking vicious and frightening. 

“Not a chance!” Cygnus said as he swung his sword at Brook to protect his best friend and the troll elders but as soon as the strings were forcefully removed, one of them emitted a lightning bolt that completed the ritual. Leaf’s corpse gasped as breath returned to his body, and he sat up in his coffin. 

“Leaf!” Brook cried out as she ran towards him. All the fighting came to a halt as the mind-controlled pop trolls were snapped free from the trance. 

“Brook, that’s not Leaf!” Tansy tried to warn her. 

As soon as Brook went to her resurrected husband, the corpse took a bite on her arm. Tansy and Lyra both gasped in shock. 

“This is why bringing someone from the dead is evil,” Cygnus said. He used his sword to emit a huge blast that disintegrated the corpse but it also killed Brook as well. 

“What happened to Elder Brook?” One of the pop trolls asked them. 

“She did the most taboo thing by trying to raise Leaf from the dead and paid the price, let this incident be a lesson for all of us,” Cygnus said. “Her delusional leadership will be an example for all of us leaders, and, I will not only be the leader of my tribe, I will be the leader of all the trolls.” 

“What?” asked a pop troll. 

“You’re lying!” Yelled another. 

“He has a sword!” A female shouted. 

“Stay away from us!” A male screamed as most of the Pop trolls ran away from Cygnus. 

“Wait! Come back!” Tansy called to them, as they tried to run away as they bumped into the six troll tribes who arrived at the place where the resurrection ritual was held. The trolls tried to spread the lies to the other trolls but Tansy appeared behind them. He is now wearing his new king regalia with Lyra beside him. 

“Because you don’t know the truth why he killed Brook, she made you all help her resurrect Leaf, which is just an anomaly that is meant to be locked away and never learned,” he said. “He did this to save you all from being eaten by the corpse.” 

The pop trolls stopped when they saw Tansy and Lyra together.

“But the sword in Cygnus’s hand?” the female pop troll explained. 

“Me and the troll elders forged it so that we can stop Brook’s plans in disrupting the balance of nature,” Tansy scolded them. 

“All of you were manipulated into following her delusional plans and look at what happened, her actions have led to her downfall and she only brought shame to our tribe” Lyra added. 

The pop trolls felt ashamed for what had happened and looked at Tansy and Lyra. 

“If Elder Brook is gone, who will lead us?” The male pop troll asked him. 

“Our beloved Elder Brook is dead, now it’s a new era for all the trolls,” Tansy announced to them. “The pop trolls needed a leader who would not be swayed by delusions or corruption, a beacon of light in these dark times……..I will be your new king.” 

All of the pop trolls bowed before Tansy and Lyra in respect upon realization. Meanwhile, the new high king of the trolls was filled with hate towards Brook because of her misdeeds and King Tansy went to see him. 

“High king Cygnus, or should I say, brother,” Lyra said. “My love here wants to see you.” 

“Cygnus,” He said as he approached the new high king.

“King Tansy of the pop tribe,” the new high king responded.

“Cygnus, Elder Brook must be given respect and honor, the rites must be observed,” King Tansy said. 

“There will be no rites,” King Cygnus responded. 

“But Elder Brook…” King Tansy stammered. 

“She is a traitor, she stole the strings just to bring Leaf back from the dead and her selfishness only led to our tribes’ further separation!” He explained angrily. “She must be made an example, we will burn her.” 

“No, Cygnus, don’t escalate this tension just because of what she had done, it would only make things worse,” he said. “For your first act as the new high king of the troll kingdom, please grant me the permission to handle the proper funeral rites for Elder Brook.” 

“Very well then, do what you can, and let her story be an example for all of the troll tribes and the troll leaders so that this mistake cannot be repeated again,” Cygnus agreed.

“Thank you Cygnus, you are a true best friend, and I want to ask permission and your blessing to marry your sister, Lyra,” he added. 

“You don’t need my permission and you already have my blessing to have her, please take care of her for me,” Cygnus said. 

“I will,” he answered. 

Soon, Tansy did what was necessary to make sure the rites were observed as everybody attended the funeral. He told all of the trolls the whole story to the crowd and explained how Brook’s delusional thinking and selfishness had led to the scars that they cannot escape from.

“Because of Brook’s deeds, all of the resurrection rituals will be deemed as a taboo because of what would happen, may her story be told for generations to come so that this mistake won't happen again,” He said. “As a beginning of this formation of the troll kingdom, I want to give this as a gift to the first high king, Cygnus.” 

Everybody gasped in awe as he showed the new high king a golden crown. It has eight rays that look like flower petals and pointed with drop pearls adorning the tips. There are also eight rounded etchings at the middle of each petal. 

“Is that the….” Cygnus gasped. 

“The crown of harmony,” Tansy answered.

“We want to give this to you as a thank you,” The new funk king said.

“Wait, I don't know if I am worthy to wear it,” he said.

“Of course you’re worthy to wear it,” said the new rock king. “You united us to protect our people as well as yours.”

“You value all forms of music and the trolls that play them,” the classical queen added. 

“We’ve all decided you are the best possible leader,” the techno king told him. 

“Awww, everybody, thank you for having faith in me,” King Cygnus said as he cried tears of joy while Miri comforted him. 

After Brook was given the rites to be at peace, all of the troll tribes were assembled as the first coronation of the first high king was conducted. Tansy, the new king of the pop trolls and the troll elders, now kings and queens placed the gems on the crown of harmony and finally, the high king, Cygnus was officially crowned.

“Because of Elder Brook’s actions, we have no choice but to take our tribes in separate ways for the sake of our strings to be kept safe,” he announced. “We will choose what lands will they settle and build our kingdoms there. The leaders will only come together when my future heir or any heirs will select a bride or groom and when a new high king or high queen will be crowned. As my first act as the high king of the troll kingdom, I will entrust the formerly sacred harp and the pop string to my best friend and my sister.” 

With that, King Cygnus held the white harp that still has the pop string in it and gave it to King Tansy. 

“We will protect it with all our might,” Tansy said as he and Lyra held the harp up. 

Everyone cheered for their newly crowned royalty. 

“King Tansy, fellow troll leaders, please protect the strings so that we don’t let the same mistake happen again,” King Cygnus said. 

All the troll leaders promised to protect the strings with their lives before they gathered their respective tribes and go their separate ways. It turned out to be a story that Queen Rose was telling to the kids and all of her friends in the prism castle.

“And so, the trolls lived separately in different kingdoms with Tansy marrying his best friend’s sister, Lyra, and King Cygnus has his wife, Miri as his queen. The troll leaders also got married and had kids. When the high king’s eldest son, the crown prince, came of age, the troll leaders selected eligible trolls to marry him, and it became a new tradition,” Queen Rose read the book. “King Cygnus ruled his people wisely and he lived up to a good old age until his death, where the crown prince had the jewel beetles take seven of the gems and have it delivered respectively to each of the six troll tribes but the green gem is always entrusted to the subtribe trolls that the heir is trusting with. As the years passed by, each generation of leaders came to the throne and the troll tribes never lived in harmony. It had been that way for so long, up until now, when Queen Barb’s rockpocalpyse eventually led me to take back the throne and unite all of the troll tribes under my reign as the high queen, leading the troll kingdom to the age of unity.” 

“Wow, Rose, you seem to have a sharp memory when it comes to history,” Queen Poppy complimented her. 

“Thanks, my tutors loved to tell me this story when I was a little troll, it reminds me that selfishness and delusions would only lead to irreparable consequences,” she answered. “The story is told over and over to the next generation so that we don’t forget the past and never repeat the mistakes that Brook did.” 

“Is that why you fought so hard to defeat Barb when she stole the strings?” Queen Poppy asked. 

“Yes,” said Queen Rose. 

They looked at the statue of King Cygnus, which stood in the middle of Platinum City as it shows the first high king of the trolls, pointing his sword upward, overlooking the entire troll kingdom proudly. 

Thanks @georgi-girl for helping me make this fanfic.

[fatefulfaerie]

Huge congrats on 1k! Well deserved.

For the prompt: I'm gonna be vague and say Navi + BOTW. Interpret how you will!

Sorry this took so long! I hope you like it!

“You’ve never seen a fairy?” Link asked in his awkward mid-pubescent voice. Humility, honor, and politeness were things of the future, the question asked almost criticizing.

His friend shrugged, a fellow page who was two years his junior at eleven years old.

“I’ve heard of them,” the youth countered as he munched on his sandwich, a mash of Hylian Bass in between two slices of bread.

As haughty as Link was about his experience, his ability to boast a leg up on his fellow pages and squires as if he were a seasoned knight, he was nowhere near as bad as Althar.

Althar was only a year older than Link, but his status as a fourteen year old made him a squire, and gave him an annoying conceit. Link took pride in things he could boast about, but Althar would go out of his way to make sure any conversation was one he butted into, and came out the hero of.

“Finding fairies is nothing,” Althar said, casually leaning against one of the wooden scaffoldings of the training grounds, “the pink ones anyway.”

“Here we go,” Link mumbled under his breath, scooping seafood paella into his mouth. His slight look at his younger friend didn’t stop the youth from turning around with intrigue.

“There are other colors?” he asked with enthusiasm.

“Oh, tons,” Althar replied. “A whole rainbow of colors, yellow, green, purple.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Link forewarned, almost sing-songingly.

“But,” Althar continued. “They only appear to true heroes, you know.” He slapped and gripped his own biceps. “Strong ones, not little uh…well…toothpicks.”

Link didn’t need to look up to know Althar was referring to him.

“How many non-pink fairies have you seen?” Link asked with a smile as the rice filled his belly.

“It’s not about numbers,” Althar said. “Not about numbers at all. You know that’s the first thing they teach you when you become a squire. Humility. I’m not one to brag, that’s for sure.”

Link shook his head as he looked up at his friend. 

“Humility,” Link said, “that’ll be the day.”

Their lunch hour ended with a holler from their commanding officer, which ensued a scramble of various boys and girls aged 7 to 16 to line up in order of height. All of their right arms were bent in salute, except for two of the younger ones who were newer and thus had their left arm up. Sometimes Link pitied them. They had a fifty percent chance of guessing the correct arm and it just wasn’t their day.

They struggled with the obstacle course too, and Link would have thought they were far too young to begin training if it weren’t for the fact that he too was seven years old when he started.

His father, an otherwise inconsequential knight stationed in Necluda, saved the King’s life one day. The King granted him a favor in appreciation of his heroism.

“Anything,” the crowned gentleman had said, the single word having such a power to it that Link’s father knew he better not waste it. Three years later, his wife died in childbirth, and the baby’s seven year-old brother was unruly and difficult to manage. Link was from then on trained alongside the sons and daughters of the very best knights, though he was besting knights in his father’s quadrant ever since he was four.

“At ease,” the commander said. 

He began to give instructions for their afternoon of training, but Link didn’t hear a word of it, his brow bending as a fairy landed on the man’s shoulder.

And it was a glowing blue.

Of all the people to break protocol and brag about this sighting, Althar surely would, but Link looked over and the squire was as bored as can be. Link’s eyes danced in confusion.

Surely, he was going crazy.

Link watched with enchanted eyes as the fairy floated off and away towards Korok Forest, disappearing into the mist that surrounded it.

“Link?” He heard the commander ask. Link didn’t even realize he had taken a step away. “Where are you going? I’m not finished.”

Link stammered an apology and shook his head to rid himself of whatever craze had overcome him. His father had told him that soldiers sometimes hallucinated. Was that what this was?

For the first hour of training after, there was a faint blue light beckoning him, ebbing like a heartbeat, some living force that urged wordlessly. Link waited until someone else was being reprimanded - it was always a scene - to sneak away into the forbidden fog.

He figured he was going crazy, compelled to break the rules in such a way. His father would slap him upside the head if he saw him now, a thirteen-year-old inching into a forest that only knights with a lifetime of service braved. He had heard tales of fog, that with a child’s laugh ushered you into the realms of Hylia, or worse, the mere unknown. People lost to the forest are said to never come back. Link suspected it was just a tale for children and this proved it. There wasn’t the slightest lick of fog. The forest was clear and shining with green-filtered sunlight, and the blue fairy led him further and further in.

The brush underneath his feet only whispered with the disturbance Link brought into the forest, as if his presence wasn’t a disturbance at all. His father once taught him that the wild world around them was not one to play with or to harm, that it breathed just like the people who lived in it. And, for some reason, that breath was guiding him to golden clearing, winds still and calm, with an adult-sized sword beckoning him closer. 

Link;s finger’s slowly swirl to clasp the blue hilt of a sword that, perhaps by some trick of the sunlight, gleamed otherworldly. The thirteen year-old pulled upwards with an ageless curiosity, not knowing of the era of calamity it would usher this age Hyrule into.

[sashi-ya]

Hi Sashi! for your Hell event, I'd like to request Ashura! Zoro, Oni! Kiku x fem! reader (human). You can chose whatever kink and place suits better for them! Thank u so much! 🤍🤍

Hiii!! OF COURSE. I've been dying to write something with Zoro and Kiku together and this seems like the perfect oportunity to do so!! Thank u so much for your request and please enjoy! 💖💖

𝑵𝒔𝒇𝒘 ~ 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒂! 𝒁𝒐𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑶𝒏𝒊! 𝑲𝒊𝒌𝒖 𝒙 𝑭! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~ 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐̄

➡ Tw: nsfw. Zoro is an Ashura. Kiku (amab, she/her pron) is an Oni. Reader F! Samurai. Oral. Dp. Cum swallowing. threesome. Creampie. The title is in japanese, it means Ashuradō (one of the six Realms of Existance in Japanese Budhism. It's the realm of anger, jealousy, and constant war; home of Ashuras) ➡ wc: 2.8k ➡ Want more? visit the masterlist

Feet that hurt, and thirst that feels like sand in your throat. The rests of a beautiful shrine ahead, gives you hope. You need to rest; you can’t walk any more.

The wound in your stomach is too big and hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.  

“This place should do. Either if I get to sleep a little or die, it looks good enough to do so” you mumble, dragging your feet over the creaking wood stairs of the shrine.

Dry plants garnish the entrance, red paint that seems to be peeling from the walls, nothing inside but some wet floor. You flop there, curling in foetal position, pressing your abdomen to stop the endless red river. A katana edge had cut through you… but you didn’t lose…Your eyes slowly close, your breathing becomes barely superficial, darkness… darkness and calm surrounds you…

“Welcome, samurai” a manly, husky, and sinful voice pulls you out of the deep hole where you were falling into. Your first reaction is, as always, to reach for your sword. Sword that is now missing at your side.

Eyes that are still blurry and head still dizzy, you can’t quite see what’s in front of you yet. But his aura is enough to make you feel like something invisible force is crushing you down.

“Hey, sweetheart…” a woman’s voice says. So sweet and like a balsam to your ears. Who is she? Who is that man?

When you blink your dizziness away, you notice the shrine looks exactly the same, but, now it’s lively and beautiful. Almost like if the decayed walls were never there and the time hasn’t ever passed.

Sitting over cushions of finest patterns, an imponent man. A God, perhaps? But it has horns… he is not a God, or at least not a holy one. Sitting over his lap, a beautiful woman, somehow taller than him, wearing an Oni mask. Her hair, long, deep blue, tied into a ponytail.

She plays with her nails, barely grazing the huge, scarred chest of the man sitting. A man with a crossed eye, green hair, long green hair.

“Are you looking for this, samurai?” he asks, showing you your katana. He inspects it, taking a closer look at the edge. His pointy nose travels all over it, dangerously closer to the sharp metal.

“It smells like blood”

Of course, it does. You had killed many men. Of course, it smells like blood.

Your pupils dilate when he, all of a sudden, licks the edge sexily enough to light a fire inside of your guts. The woman on his lap giggles, and soon after the man had stop licking the sword she pours sake straight to his mouth.

“Thank you, Kikunojo” he whispers, placing his big hand over her barely covered legs. Her kimono, a yellow silky one, spreads conveniently so the green haired horned man can slip her hand inside of it.

She receives your katana in her hands, her movements are worthy of a delicate flower. What a beautiful lady. Maybe she is the God’s girlfriend?

“Is this your katana, or did you steal it?” he asks, fixing his steel eye on your gaze. It makes you shiver; it makes you weak, it makes you hot and it makes you scared too. A true demon aura surrounds his figure, purple and green hues, like the lights of a midnight sun.

“That’s my Hebi Doku” you tell them your sword’s name, assuring that man it’s yours. “Oh… that’s why it tasted so bitter… snake venom, you say…Alright, if you want it come here and get it” he says, smirking at you with devilish intentions.

Sure, he is not a benevolent god. And the three katanas on his right side are ready to slash your head off if you dare to come closer… but he is telling you to come and get yours? Maybe he is honourable enough to attack after you have yours in your hand.

You stand up, realizing nothing is bleeding any longer. Your stomach is covered in bandages. Your chest too. Kimono hanging from your hips, they have patched you up and even decided to respect your privacy…

“You dare to stand before me? Crawling, mortal. You will have to come crawling” he says, patting Kikunojo’s leg. The woman stands up, allowing the God to bend a little further. “Don’t you know who I am?” he asks, clearly annoyed at your disrespectful ways.

You freeze in place, kneeling on the ground. You don’t really know who he is, but by simply speaking a little louder than before he is able to make you subdued to him.

He calls you with a beckoning finger to him “come here, you little slut”. And you crawl to him, ignoring the way he called you, ignoring absolutely everything. You look like an animal, walking to him on all fours. You don’t really know why you are moving. Sure, you want your katana back, but it is not that what’s moving you towards you. In fact, you even think is nothing regarding your own body, but more of that attraction force he uses.

When you are close enough to his crotch, he passes his fingers down your chin to look up at you. His black kimono covers his legs, and his exposed torso is only covered by a green haramaki. “You smell like blood too, but you didn’t want it… right?” he asks, coming closer and sniffling your face and neck.

“I didn’t want to do it. I had to” you say, stating that he was indeed right. You didn’t want to kill, but it was the only way you had to protect the people of your town.

The man in front of you smiles, he seems pleased with your answer. “I see… but you commit quite a massacre there. Don’t you think?” he judges you, and you feel as if this was the holly trial where they get to chose where to take you, either Hell or Heaven.

You are out of words, sometimes peeking to the side to look at the tall woman in yellow holding your sword in her hands, sometimes at the man in front of you.

When he decides to finally speaks, he reveals his identity; “I am an Ashura, Zorojuro. And we are at the doors of my kingdom, Ashuradō. Welcome to a world of constant war and anger”

Your lips separate. An Ashura? A fearsome demon god? Those who they taught about in your village shrine...? “You- an Ashura?”  you stutter, scared of the creature right in front of you. You make him laugh, a laughter that’s pure evilness but pure sin. A laughter that make you wet, who knows why.

The woman accompanies his laughter with a subtle giggle, she is taller than him for sure and her aura is pretty much similar to his. She is strong, like if she could cut you into pieces and you wouldn’t realize until you are already dead.

“I am an Ashura, yes. She is Kikunojo and she was the one who cured your wounds, don’t you think you owe something to her?” he says, looking at the woman with a smile of pure adoration.

You press your forehead against the floor. “Thank you Kikunojo-sama for saving my life” you bow, with great respect before her. You owe her something, your life.  

She takes her hand to her mouth, or at least over the mouth of her Oni mask. Giggling she crunches next to you, making you look at her. “It’s ok! I’m glad I helped you. Now, my master Zorojuro says you owe me something, but I will let him tell you the price of my services”

You nod, even with a mask she is stunning, as attractive as her master.

“Good girl, Kiku. Then I’d like if you don’t mind having a little fun with her. Don’t you think we haven’t in a while?” Zorojuro says, licking his lips and spreading his arms to call her to sit on his lap again.

“Oh! That’s a very fun price to pay, don’t you think beautiful samurai? You are as gorgeous as a flower, but fearless as a wild animal” she says, speaking about you, making you shiver as her compliments feel like an insult to her beauty.

You accept your faith, but, from everything you could have been asked to do these options is indeed the one you wouldn’t have anything against at. “I will pay my price, Kikunojo-sama, Zorojuro-sama”

The Ashura smirks, a red glimmering shine crossing his healthy eye. He takes Kiku’s mask off, revealing the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen. Gorgeous facial features, worthy of an angel… even if the horns on her head were not part of her mask after all.

He kisses her neck, licking it up and down, making her to bite her red painted lips. His huge hands trace a path from her chest to her crotch and violently spreads her legs. Zoro makes her sit properly over his crotch so her legs can be spread as much as possible.

Her silky fabric covering lets you full vision of her nudity, and you discover she is just more special that you even thought. You bite your lower lip looking at Zoro devour her mouth, making your internal word aroused as hell.

“Kiku, baby. Let this whore suck you” he commands, whispering in her ear. She takes her hand to her lips, suppressing a playful giggle and winking her beautiful lashes at you.

You lick your lips, like a frothing animal, walking on all fours to reach for her hard, dripping sex. Moving the kimono away, you reveal all of her pudenda’s parts. You first lick the inner side of her thighs, you can sense the scent of her skin to be flowery but so definitely attractive, almost like a drug. What type of magical being is this woman?

Up and up, you go, until your fingers round her shaft. Pumping motions that start definitely slow and increase its speed is what you give her. She whines, whines that Zorojuro traps with his own mouth. He has slipped his hand down her chest and pinches her nipples making it for her true ecstasy.

“Suck it, samurai” Zoro orders, and you comply. Tasting her precum in your mouth, a salty wet delight on your tongue. Kisses over the tip of her sex, kisses and then your lips surrounding her whole length.

You suck with devotion, her kimono finally falling down to the sides, exposing her pale androgynous anatomy. Her hip bones protruding, the perfection of lean body parts, and the way that Ashura seems so devoted to her makes this look like a work of art to your eyes.

Zorojuro wants her to moan, to scream louder, so he uses his heavy hand to push your head, so her sex invades your throat deeper. The green haired Ashura tangles his calloused fingers on your hair, using you as a mere hole for her beloved lover to enjoy.

The sounds of your gags mix with the whimpers of Kikunojo, who is so ready to reach for climax at any minute. And as she does, your mouth fills with her sweet release, and it tastes better than any human’s one.

“Drink her blessing. All.” Zoro orders, while she keeps sprouting over Zoro’s lap. You do, showing him how nothing remains in your mouth, by sticking your tongue out. Earning Zoro’s pleased smile, he kisses her lover in the lips as a sign of love and congratulatory for being such a good girl.

She buries her head into Zoro’s neck, kissing his collar bones. “Thank you, master ~” she says, but what you thought was enough to cover your debt, is absolutely not. Zoro lifts her up, putting her next to him. He stands up, and finally takes her whole clothes off.

You look at him kneeling over the ground, a little agitated since the intrusion of Kiku’s sex on your throat left you airless several times. What would be his next order? In any case it doesn’t matter, his anatomical composition is enough for your eyes to say that you have experienced heaven.  His muscles move so harmoniously, so well trained, and big.

“Stand-up” he says, pulling you from your hair up. You obey and seeing how he unsheathes a purple katana your blood freezes. Closing your eyes you expect the worst, but instead a slight breeze kiss your naked skin. Your kimono ends up slayed in two by the edge of his sword, a sword that emanates an aura as strong as his own.

Completely naked you stand before them. But not for so long, Zoro pushes you back making you fall over a cushion cover zone behind you. You fall with your legs spread, showing them both your wet sex in all its glory.

“Kiku, wanna try baby?” he says, helping her to kneel in between your spread legs. “Yes, Master” she says, happily bringing her fleshy lips to your labia. The tip of her tongue touch your arousal, forming strings with it as she pulls her head back.

Zoro also kneels in between your legs, as Kiku moves a little to the side so there is room for both. They treat you as if you were a plate of delicious food, and certainly that’s what you are as both begin to devour you. Their tongues play with each other in between your folds. The sweet whimpers of Kiku and the grunts of Zorojuro could alone take you to heaven, but their oral action is for sure what’s dragging you to the sinful Avernus.

Your back arches, and it’s just a matter of little time for you to come, explosively. But there is more, my sweet darling, of course there is…

When Zoro gets tired of your taste, he knows it’s time to taste his lover. He stands up, leaving Kiku to enjoy your sex as he walks behind her. He pushes her waist just a little down, so her back entrance gets exposed all to him.

Kiku wiggles an invisible tail to him, making him drool for her. Spreading her hams, his tongue reach for her anus. Up and down, lubricating her for his intrusion, she moans in your sex, and you caress her silky blue hair with love.

She is quickly ready for Zoro, as he guides his sex into her. And even if being fucked by that man is enough for any person to become dumb she keeps eating you out, pinching one of your nipples as she does so.

You can’t help but scream even louder than them, orgasming, bathing Kiku’s beautiful face with your juices. “Mhh ~ Ah good girl! ~” she praises you, while her eyes get blank from Zoro’s violent thrusts inside her.

“My master, can we… both?” she asks, in between pants and whines. You still shiver from the past orgasm and enjoy kissing Kiku’s lips as she whines. “Sure, my sweet Oni, come on” Zoro says, pulling his dick out of her. You quickly understand what they meant, and even if your wild side is making you want it now, your reasonable side is a little worry they would break you in two.

“Come here” Zoro, brutally pulls you up like a doll. He pushes you against the shrine’s wall lifting your leg up so he can fuck you properly. “Let me see how tight you are” he says, guiding his long, hard shaft into you. He rams you so violently, you are left out of breath for a couple of seconds. He goes in and out, up and down, making you scream from pleasure.

Zorojuro tries you for some minutes, leaving you on the verge of a new orgasm with just a couple of his thrusts. “Uh… she is tight, but I think she is able to take both of us babe. Come here” he commands, talking about your already clenching walls.

The green haired demon separates you from the wall, allowing Kiku to fit in between it and your back. He stops for a couple of seconds to let her accommodate and guide her sex into you. As she begins to move, Zoro does too. You are sandwiched in between them, getting fucked so hard and stretching your insides so much.

They invite you to their kisses as the keep moving in and out of you, groans, moans, whines, and whimpers mixed. Panting, shivering, the smell of Zorojuro’s skin with hints of sweat and sake, the flowery scents of Kiku as she bites your shoulder, your tears of pure pleasure… Explosive orgasms, both demons filling you up, leaving you dripping with their seeds.

“Thank you for having fun with us, (Name). I have persuaded Zorojuro to let you go… You know, Ashuras are kinda jealous, so I told her I wanted to have more fun with you, and he decided to let you live as a human this time. It was great having you ~” Kiku whispers, kissing your cheek before you wake up again in the same old shrine than before.

Your katana rests on your side, but now it has tied around it the little red string that was holding that beautiful Oni’s hair up… 💖

[elazrielbook]

Colour Symbolism of Elriel in the ACOTAR books!

i'll talk about colour first but scroll down for the light and dark parallels of the characters!

so azriels siphons are cobalt blue specifically. his power creates a cobalt blue aura around him too.

now elains colour is pink. elain wears it alot, its associated with her flowers, and it suits her steotypically feminine personality. but she wore a cobalt dress at her first meeting with azriel. not common for her as we usually see her in pinks and purples.

also!! gwyns colour is teal, from her eyes to the priestess stones. they're both described as teal. the priestesses stones nor gwyns eyes are ever said to be anywhere close to the colour of azriels siphons. because ik people like to claim that they're similar colours🥴

along with her colour being pink, lets talk about the acowar cover. its got truth teller on the cover, obviously eluding to one of the biggest moments in the book, elain getting the dagger from azriel and killing hybern with it. the cover has the dagger surrounded by shadows (that also look like roses to some) but even if you don't think its roses, its his dagger and his shadows on a pink cover.

and before you start saying the cover colours have no meaning, i highly doubt they have deep crazy meaning, but shes hardly choosing fully random colours. acotar was red(roses was in the name so thats easy). acomaf was that green/blue teal colour(the night court traditional clothes were described in this colour). acowar was pink(see above). acofas was regular blue('frost' winter, cold vibes). acosf was orange(flames are associated with nesta several times, including the title of her book lol).

i personally think elains book(which is quite obviously next lets not play dumb) will be a pale pink because thats clearly the colour she's associated with most. pinks been dine before but it would be a totally different shade than acowar. same as acomaf/acofas. the only colour of the rainbow left is yellow and i just don't see sjm doing it as i don't think that would be pleasing to look at lol. although elain is described so many times as golden and sunlight, so it does kinda make sense. but hey ya never know.

and look you might think those colours mean nothing and thats fine, but when you pair it with facts like ; each couple got a scene in the colouring book...the acowar cover scene (az giving elain truthteller) was in the colouring book, elucien wasn't. their scene is literally the cover of a book, and the fact that elain and azriel have had more build up moments that nessian got before acosf. how can you ignore that?

light and dark

now many many characters are described as light including mor,helion,elain,gwyn,feyre etc. azriel of course is described as darkness.

but but but, the only one whos light is directly contrasted to azriels darkness is elain.

azriel quite literally means "angel of death" and throughout the story he is consistently compared to death, darkness and shadow.

elain on the other hand literally translates to sunlight. throughout the series she is consistently compared to the sun, the dawn, day, and light/golden light.

gwyns name means holy,white,blessed. in the books, the times where she is described as light is when she sings she quite literally glows. and although this is a brilliant example of light, she is never described as such without the context if that glow while she sings. more importantly its never mentioned in direct contrast with azriels darkness, not even in the bonus chapter.

feyre literally says this when looking at azriel and elain:

"Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark,"

i just think it foreshadows them so well.

SO much of azriels character revolves around darkness. the shadows are literally part of him. his dark past makes him think less of himself. the dark things he's been through but also the dark things he's done. and yet his softest and most gentle moments are all towards elain. the times where he seems the most content is woth her.

and so much of elains character revolves around light. she's always out in the sun, her personality is light and calm and gentle. and yet she does not balk from azriels darkness. she's also hiding something in acosf showing that she has her own type of darkness. (but don't start w the evil elain theories i'll get bored of shutting yall down lol)

so do with this what you will. i just feel like its so pointless to have all those light and dark parallels for it to not mean anything. like if they both got with other people, those parallels will still be there so people are forever going to think they belong together.

psa: this is not a safe space to hate on azriel, gwyn or elain. talk about the ships and characters kindly

[revirushifaa]

Brothers Get Emotion Octopus From MC

Gn!MC for my personal headcanons. I'm very happy with my brand new emotion octopus so I came up with these few headcanons!

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

Lucifer

*So MC gave him this black and red angry looking thing, he looked at it poking it, the black side had fire angry eyes and the red side it was an even angrier expression.

"Why did you specifically give this to me?"

"Because it's angry."

*Alright human better explain to him why you mean by that, are you implying that he's angry all the time and an angry toy octopus reminds you of him?

*Appears annoyed at first with it, but he actually appreciates getting this gift from MC and puts it on a high shelf in his office, staring it and feeling amused, alright the thing's cute he can't argue with it.

Mammon

*Hah? What's this odd-looking white grinning thing that he was given? It's an octopus, one side white with a grinning expression, the other side was yellow with a crying expression.

"Oi, human, what's this? Why's a side grinnin' and the other side cryin'?"

"It reminds me of you when you grin and then when you cry after getting into trouble."

*He feels his cheeks get warm with a blush. This human gave him this little thing because it remind them of him by the faces? How odd yet cute this human could be?

"W-well, it's cute but don't ya think I don't know the meaning behind your actions! I'm not a crybaby!"

*Oh he simply adored being gifted this by his human, he treasures it highly and puts it on a little cage with a lock, fearing some of his brothers will try and steal it from him, course they never steal from him it's him stealing from them. But he still thinks it's a great treasure one that he should keep protected.

Leviathan

*Oh the emotion octopus, he's seen them around but never even thought that the normie who lives with them would gift him one. It's purple with a grumpy look and the other side is orange with a flustered face.

"I know about these, but why did you give one to me?"

"Because it reminds me of you. The grumpy side whenever you're moody and the flustered side whenever you put that cute flustered face of yours."

*His face immediately turns beet red as he covers his face. Gaaah! This normie knows where to hit him to put him that way and even then he likes that about them.

*Puts the octopus in the shelf with his most important stuff which are his large collection of mangas and his Ruri-chan figurines and posters.

Satan

*A gift for him? Oh how nice. When he unwraps the box he finds a green angry-looking octopus, the other side is blue with a smirk. Hm... how curious this is.

"What does this represent to you?"

"The green side is you when you get angry, the blue side is you when you get mischievous and are ready to pull a prank out."

*Quite amusing, an octopus could describe him better than his own looks? Well so be it, this octopus now belongs to him and he for sure will keep it in a special place, poor of anywho who tries to take it from him, he will give them hell.

*In a shelf hiding behind his books the octopus hides, he puts it on his shoulder when he sits to read any book so it reminds him of MC since they gave it to him and it's such a great gift.

Asmodeus

*Oh you gave him a gift? How sweet of you! Ah? But what is this thing, pink smiley octopus that can switch color? The other color is a brown color with a beam.

"Oh, sweetie, this is the most cutest thing! Does it have a meaning for having two faces and colors?"

"The pink one reminds me of your sweet and bright smile, the brown one that you keep such cute upbeat face and is what I enjoy seeing from you."

*Ok, Asmo's heart just skipped a beat and his face now is ruby red. How can a human be this sweet as to give something that really reminds them of himself, his beautiful self? He puts the octopus on his bed for a while and hugs the human tightly, showing how much he liked the little octopus given to him.

*He puts it on his bed by his pillows and whenever he's putting on his makeup or doing his nails, he smiles at it. He names it Sheepy as it was a gift from the most sweetest human it reminds him of them and with how much care and kindness they gifted him it.

Beelzebub

*He looks at the little thing that MC an octopus? He can eat it? Wait, it's not edible? Oh it's purple with a smiley face that has a few crumbs on the face like if it had eaten, and the dark blue side has such a sweet and friendly smile.

"It's very cute, MC, but what is this? I know it's an octopus, but why does it have to heads?"

"The slightly covered in crumbs face reminds me of your face when you finish eating, that I have to wipe and the friendly look is you all the time with such sweet and kind demeanor that you have."

*His big kind heart gets filled with joy, this human really knows how to make him smile. He gives them a big bear hug and caresses the little octopus head.

*He exercises with the octopus and always takes it everywhere with him, it means a lot to him since MC gave it to him with such sweetness he can't lose it. Even sleeps with it, it is just the perfect gift ever given to him.

Belphegor

*A plush octopus? It's cow-patterned with a sleeping face at one side and the other side has a tired face. How curious.

"Does this tiny thing has a meaning?"

"The cow design remembers me of your animal, the sleeping face remembers me of when you're sleeping and the tired one when you look tired and about to nap. It shows your cuteness when you're sleeping like a baby in your bed.

*He blushes a bit at their response, huh, so this small thing reminds them of him how truly... adorable he guesses. He still smiles a bit at them and nods, thanking them for having a time to get this little thing.

*He sleeps with the octopus all the time, he cuddles around it and gets grumpy when it gets lost in the many pillows and blankets that he has, even when it needs to be washed, he sits by the laundry and sees it spin around with the other laundry, just wanting to take it out and when it is drying outside he sits there. Who could imagine that a simple plushie would make him get so attached to it, maybe because MC gifted it to him or because he likes to cuddle around plushies? Who knows but he's very glued to the cow-octopus.

[imagineredwood]

Jeweled

Summary: You surprise Miguel when he comes home by wearing the rose gold lingerie he got you, with some new...jewelry to match.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x female reader 

Warnings: 18+ Sexual content, butt plugs, oral sex (female recieving), praise kink if you squint

A/N: Tell me why I did this as a HC because I didn’t really feel like writing a whole lot and then it ended up being 1K words 

It had been a gift 

One you had gotten nearly two weeks ago 

It was a set of gifts really, that you had gotten

A collection of butt plugs of every color, with a jewel at the base to match 

Miguel had mentioned it late one night when he had you bent over the bathroom counter 

About how sexy he thought you would look with a jeweled plug in you

You had listened and taken it to heart, of course, looking around online the very next day for one 

There had been a million different kinds with jewels of every color

There had been far too many options and you were about to give up when you lucked out and found a collection of them in a multitude of colors 

A pink, a blue, a yellow, a purple, a green, and a red

And then there were the metallic ones

Hold, silver, gun metal, and rose gold

Your mind immediately had thought about the rose gold lingerie and robe Miguel had gotten you as a just because gift

And that had made up your mind for you, your brain already piecing together your attire for when the plugs came in

You were going to make a habit of it

Surprising him by wearing one that matched your outfits randomly 

Sure, after a few times the shock of it might wear off, but you knew the very first time would be one for the books 

So this afternoon when they had arrived, you had been all too eager to set everything up for when he came home from his meeting 

You had bathed and put on your favorite lotion

Skin bouncy and supple 

Then you had done your makeup, soft and smooth, eye shadow blended perfectly so the baby pink shimmer on your lids really stuck out 

Your hair was done just how he loved it, even though you had a feeling it would be a mess not long after he arrived

Then you were grabbing the bottle of lube and preparing yourself, slipping the plug in, and then taking a look at yourself in the long mirror

You bent forward some and looked over your shoulder, catching the shine of the jewel in the light as you did 

It was time to slip into the lingerie then

You looked sexy and felt even sexier, throwing sating the robe on over yourself and tying it up 

You were completely covered up as you made your way downstairs, yet you still felt exposed 

Maybe it was the plug, maybe it was the lingerie, or perhaps both

But you felt warm and tense at the same time, the plug stimulating you with every step you took down the staircase

By the time you got to the bottom, the warmth had spread even lower and you poured yourself a glass of champagne while you waited 

He was home pretty quickly and you let him get settled in some before approaching him 

One look at your robe and he quirked his eyebrow, having a pretty good feeling what you were wearing underneath 

You smiled softly and he chuckled with a shake of his head, wrapping his arms around you and speaking quietly into your ear

“I missed you.” 

Your smile was warm as you said it back, tilting your head towards upstairs

He caught the hint quickly and excused himself, going back upstairs with you 

The make-out session was cut short by you, your hands planting themselves on his chest to softly push him away

“Sit in the chair. I have a surprise for you.” 

Miguel did as he was told and it brought a smile to your face, knowing that you were the only one that could get him to do whatever you asked 

He was sitting down in a large comfortable chair, leaned back with legs spread as he watched you slowly untie your robe, showing off the lingerie he had gotten you

His eyes glazed over as he looked you over, silently lifting his hand and rotating his index finger in a small circle

You gave a spin for him and he groaned as your ass came into view, no knowledge of the present resting just underneath your panties

You backed up some and his hands didn’t hesitate to take hold of your hips, squeezing the curves and slopes that lead from there to your ass, thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh 

Unable to hold off anymore, you bent over entirely, wiggling your ass at him as you looked back 

“Take them off.”

The cartel leader didn’t need to be told twice, his fingers sliding the piece of fabric over the swell of your ass and down your thighs, stopping as the glittering jewel caught his eye 

His gaze was quickly shifting over to your face to make sure he was seeing right, your little giggle and nod going straight to his dick

His voice was full of bass as gravel as he praised you

“You’re the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my fucking life, I swear.” 

His thumb was nudging at the jewel then, listening intently to your breathing quicken as he pushed on it repeatedly, fucking you gently with it 

“That feel good, mi vida?”

“Mhmm.”

He nudged at it some more until he had you whimpering, only them opting to stand up and bring you with him over to the bed, gently pushing you to bend over the edge

Then he was on his knees as he massaged your thighs, sliding his hands up to your cheeks and spreading them to get a better view of your jewel adorned ass

“Fuck, you’re like a dream.” 

He couldn’t see your face but he knew you were smiling like you always did when he told you how much he desired you 

He was pressing his mouth to you then, beard scratching at your inner thighs while he licked and suckled at your clit, his thumb still there on the plug pushing it back and forth, knowing that the night was only just getting started 

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @danimals1096

Miguel taglist

@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @maciiiofficial @jatriciaaa @black-repunzel99 @ben-c-group-therapy @witchygagirl @xonickibaby @berniesilvas @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9

[whltlock]

The Cosmic Horror of Gotham City

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: You and Jason trade truths.

Word Count: 7,097.

Jason let out a long, weary sigh then. You looked up expectantly. “You sure you want to know me?”

The question he posed was a hefty one, but almost immediately you stammered out, “Yeah. Yes.” You were scared he would run at the first sign of hesitation. You nodded, reinforcing your words. “It’s a bit late for that anyway, isn’t it?”

A bemused noise came from the back of his throat. He blinked at your words, and then his forehead fell into your shoulder. It rocked you backwards until you were able to brace yourself against his mass. You heard him sigh again as his nose nuzzled you shyly.

“Your funeral,” Jason muffled into your jumper.

Post secretive chat, the four of you set up camp in the kitchen. Despite an argument about moving to the coffee table—because it would be funny to watch giants cram themselves into the tiny space—both men refused to oblige. Fortunately for them, you’d taken the bribe of a second glass of champagne in exchange for you shutting up.

Donna and Roy assembled a board game while you were left to twiddle your thumbs. Between them, they devised a strategic game plan, including who deserved which colour pawn. As if it impacted game play, but you let them be since they discussed it so seriously.

In the meantime, Jason eyeballed you. He’d noticed the streaky, silvery tracks that you hadn’t quite managed to wipe from your undereyes. You fought the urge to rub at your skin lest it give him more ammunition to pry.

You listened to Donna as she recounted the rules so you were all on the same page. Roy punctuated each of her sentences with an enthusiastic bob of his head.

“This one’s yours,” he told you, handing you a purple piece with a toothy grin. “Sure you understand why.”

You snorted. “Thanks, Roy.”

“And for you, my first-second favourite,” Roy said as he passed the blue pawn to Jason. He accepted it with a roll of his eyes. Roy offered the last one to his lover, “My second-second favourite.”

“Why do you even have a favourite?” Donna demanded as she snatched the yellow one from him.

You patted her hand from across the counter in sympathy. “I don’t even get a favourite.”

Roy claimed the green one. He shot Donna a crooked smile. “To start drama, of course.” Then, he turned to you. “Don’t worry, you’re my favourite s-pawn of Satan.”

You blew out air in utter hilarity. “Thanks.”

With a sideways glance at Jason, you saw how he rolled his pawn between his fingers, then placed it on the starting line. When he looked back at you, he was expressionless. He held your gaze for a few seconds before his eyes dropped to your cheeks and moved upwards again. His brows furrowed while his head tilted in another silent query.

You peeled your eyes away, instead taking your first turn. Jason took his next.

As you cheered Donna on for landing on a ‘move forward three squares,’ you felt the boniness of a knee jut into your thigh. You ignored it until your skin felt tender under the pressure. You tried to glare at Jason but he was conveniently watching the board. You pushed his knee away with an unamused scoff. Thankfully, your friends paid no mind to the non-verbal quarrel.

“Aw, man,” Roy whined when he was overtaken. You had to giggle at how desperate he sounded.

Relentlessly, Jason’s knee returned. You immediately dug your nails into his jeans even though you knew it would prevent nothing. You fantasised about growing claws and sinking them into his flesh. He swatted at your hand, forcing your attention to him. Jason met your frown with one of his own.

You looked down, shocked, when his hand nudged up the hem of your shorts, just far enough that he was able to draw something. You watched as his forefinger traced ‘U OK?’ into your skin.

Goosebumps prickled your thigh. Your heart fluttered dangerously, both at his boldness and at his concern. But, in true you fashion, you turned back to the game. You did your best to ignore those pretty, determined eyes that peered at you incessantly.

Jason tugged on the fabric of your clothes twice, fist rested upon your knee. You grabbed his wrist with an annoyed exhale. “Yes,” you breathed, meeting his stare. “Now stop it.” The second part came out a hiss.

“Huh?” Roy asked, head swivelling between you two. Donna’s eagle-eyed attention latched on in curiosity.

“Jason keeps offering me his bike,” you lied through your teeth. You followed it up with a melodramatic sigh and, “He wore me down.” Sparing him a look, he read unimpressed. Jason had to wonder why you chose to say that of all things.

“No way, dude,” Roy said in a less-than-happy tone. “You said I could have that scrap heap when you were done!”

Jason’s lips thinned in offense. “I happen to love that ‘scrap heap.’”

Mindlessly, your thumb soothed over the soft expanse of his wrist, right where the dark bruises plumed. He side-eyed you strangely.

Donna snorted. “They’re riling you up, dumbass.”

Roy’s arms folded and his muscles strained against his shirt. His sceptical eyes darted between both of you, waiting for confirmation.

“I would never give this ungrateful spawn my bike,” Jason uttered. You let go of him, feeling the slightest bit irked by his words.

Roy harrumphed, then prompted, “What were you talking about then?”

You looked to Donna, hoping she’d make him stop. Instead, she smiled innocently as she anticipated a reveal of some kind.

There was a beat before Jason replied, “How disgustingly in love with Donna you are. It’s revolting.” Just to rub it in, he tacked on, “Have you told her yet?”

Roy spluttered, his freckles lost to the redness that bloomed beneath his skin. Donna fidgeted in her flustered state, hair cascading over her cheeks. A pleased smile stretched across your face at the sight of an Amazonian and whatever Roy was, flailing and unable to contain their emotions.

Your obvious satisfaction caused Jason to slip into smugness. He’d successfully diverted their nosiness. Sheepishly, he glanced at you and squeezed your knee in silent apology. You hummed under your breath, pinky knocking his. It was acceptance, he hoped.

“Roy?” Donna asked unsurely.

“Cat’s outta the bag, I guess,” Roy mumbled as he faceplanted onto the counter. She was wide-eyed as she watched him.

Okay, maybe you felt a little bad.

Somehow, despite the interruptions, you all continued on.

A game of Trouble proved to be more rambunctious than you expected. Between the clicking of the plastic cup and the competitive jeers between all of you, it was a whirlwind of excitement.

You hadn’t played games like this since you were young, so it was nice to be around those who indulged in the simplicities and amusements of childhood. The champagne was just a grown-up bonus.

Donna, Jason, and you were gathered on the same square, not far from the finish line. Much to Roy’s dismay, he’d fallen behind again. A million complaints had come from him each time the distance grew wider.

However, a miracle quickly changed that. Roy rolled a six, propelling him past your pawns and to the end of the game with ease. Simultaneously, your victory-sure faces dropped. Donna looked downright murderous. You huffed, tossing your player piece at Roy’s head.

Jason scowled. “Why does karma reward your bitching?”

Roy’s grin grew at their shared blasphemy, revelling in poor sportsmanship.

Playing might have been an enjoyable feat, but the outcome... the outcome was not as endurable.

As the conversation devolved into a scuffle, you grumbled, “I’m going to put this away,” and jumped off the bar stool, leaving them to it.

You took each bottle and squeezy-tube out of the bag one-by-one, mystified by all the labels. You read them as you placed them on the bathroom counter. It was nice of Donna to bring a house-warming present, although you had no clue how to use the items successfully.

“What’s taking so long?” came Jason’s voice. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him lean against the doorframe. He seemed amused when he spotted the endless sprawl of moisturisers and serums and cleansers.

“She gave you that as well, huh?”

Your face scrunched with confusion. “What?”

He peeled away from the wall. “Donna got me the same gift almost ten years ago,” he elaborated.

Your next question was incredulous, “You’ve been friends for that long?”

He nodded.

“No wonder why they put up with your shit,” you muttered.

Jason snorted as he moved you out of the way. He took over to sort the bottles. The space between your brows remained pinched since you didn’t understand.

“What are you doing?”

“Order of use,” he said simply.

Your mouth gaped, but you forced it closed to mumble, “Oh... okay. Thanks.”

He dismissed your appreciation with a shrug.

You eyed the last tube as you swiped it from the line-up. Your voice wavered as you asked, “Did she give you this too?”

Jason looked at the scar oil for a moment. He sensed the sudden wave of unease that was unleashed because of the personal question, but he wasn’t too bothered in the confines of the bathroom. He swallowed to ensure composure—to keep redness from flooding his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice gravelly. He took the tube from you and twisted the cap. After he’d torn the protectant seal off, Jason squirted some of the liquid onto his finger. He sighed inwardly, hoping to quell his own anxieties. It was another beat before he dabbed it on his cheek. It was more so to convince himself than you when he said, “No big deal. Just like that.”

You watched with humongous eyes as he fully acknowledged the scar that always bothered him. You fought the urge to stare as the oil glinted under the fluorescent lights. Your gaze dropped to his hand. He offered you the rest to try.

Apprehensively, you lifted your arm. He met your eyes, to which you nodded your consent. He wiped the rest of the oil along your scar with careful precision. His touch was delicate and precise. Unintentionally, you drew nearer to him as you tried to compute his kindness.

When he was done, you patted the excess on the mark on your chest. Jason’s eyes tracked the motion before they sloped back to your face. You knew what he wanted to ask: it was an oddity of a scar—uniform and circular, vaguely medical.

But he didn't. Jason only watched in silence, making no further attempt to push the boundary between you two. Although it felt like another prickly boundary crossed as you stood close enough that his breath fanned over your chin.

You wished he wouldn’t be so hesitant—so here but also there.

You grew uncomfortable as his gaze dragged across your face without a word. He saved each fleck and fine line to memory as if in search of something precious.

So, shamefully, you glanced at the corner of his mouth. You followed the silvery vein up to his bright eyes, and then to the drooping whiteness of his hair. You liked the streak amidst all his curls—made him unique.

Immediately, he ducked his head in response. Jason cleared his throat as he returned to himself.

“Where’s Donna and Roy?” you asked, more so as a truce.

His eyes didn’t lift from the ground, but you heard the slightest cheekiness to his voice as he said, “Went to the roof. Got tired of waiting.” You rolled your eyes. He shifted on his feet. “Will you come? In case they’re...”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll watch with you,” you joked monotonously.

Jason gave a wry smile, finally looking at you again. “Right.”

Your mouth twitched too.

You took one last look at the nicely patterned gift bag before you dumped it in the trash can. Jason tsked at the blasé action. You ignored him. “Let me get a jumper first.”

“I can grab it.”

You blinked at him, forehead furrowed. “This is my house. The least I can do is dress myself.”

“But I owe you, as my gracious host,” Jason mocked.

“I’ll get you one of Roy’s,” you retorted. As if he hadn’t stashed some of his clothes here already.

Jason smirked. “Not if I get there first.”

He was swift to spin on his heel.

“Hey!” you shouted, running after him.

When you got to the roof, you found the couple sprawled across a large blanket. You assumed they’d been stargazing until they’d fallen asleep.

Had you really taken that long?

You’d all been drinking, you reminded yourself. They were sleepy.

You looked to Jason to check if he wanted to stay. He shrugged in turn. There was enough space beside their slumbering forms so he sat down next to Donna. You relaxed into the spot beside him.

Jason followed the splotches of colour that lit up the Gotham skyline. It was quite a sight when it wasn’t accompanied by a hallucination.

You looked out at well, wondering what he saw. Wanting to steal a sliver of his attention, you bumped shoulders. “Tell me something.”

He glanced back with a hum. He was quiet as he considered what to share; a tale that might be of interest to you. “Do you know much about Greek mythology?” he asked. You shook your head. “Hesiod,” —the renowned poet, he explained— “believed the cosmos began with primordial deities, who gave birth to the Titans, and them to the Olympians.”

You snorted. “Dick thinks he’s that important, huh?”

Jason joined your amusement as he nudged you pointedly. “He wants you in on it, too.”

You let out a noise, unsure if he’d meant it as an insult or not. You turned back to the sky. “So, we should thank those deities for creating life?”

“Not exactly...” he murmured. “There was one more, before them. The ‘first of all.’”

Intrigued, you asked, “Who?”

“Chaos—the Void.”

You sought out his face, caught off guard by how stark the words sounded in the breezeless air. You looked him over with concern although he guarded his gaze from yours. “You don’t believe that, right?”

“The Gods are real in some form,” he said, eyes drifting to you. His fingertips grazed your leg as he was consumed by his own ravaged thoughts. “Look at you.”

Look at me, he wanted to add; what should’ve been a mass of rotten flesh and bones and worms, walking—talking—conscious to a fault.

You remained wordless, unsure how to respond to a confession that sounded so simple at surface level, but you’d heard the pain and consternation in his voice as he’d said it.

Jason still felt the wisps of darkness that aimed to choke the life out of him, both in sleep and waking hours. He eyed his bruised wrists and recalled the nightmare that had put them there. “It’s real,” Jason whispered to himself. “I know it is.”

It might be Gotham City itself, he thought. Reigning God over an ungodly place. Might be why the good guys never win.

A sad frown slipped onto your face as you observed his internal struggle. You set your palm atop his, hoping it would help soothe him some. “Maybe he’s friendly?”

A low dash of laughter leapt off his tongue. It was bitter with jagged edges, but he tried. He said your name, “You can’t befriend a cosmic terror.”

“I’ll do it if it makes you feel safer.”

“You belong in a padded cell,” Jason scoffed. You shot him an unaffected smile as you leant back on your palms. In disbelief of your self-assuredness, he shook his head.

But didn’t he have that same confidence? Or, was it purely fuelled by a lack of will to live again? Jason stewed in those thoughts as he traced the nearest constellation.

You digested the sight of his silent form while he looked up at the sky. He didn’t seem as grief-ridden now, but you were still cautious.

Eventually, he moved, jaw set upon his shoulder as he looked at you. The fire in his eyes simmered. “What’s your birth month?” he asked, head tilting in interest. “I’ll tell you the story behind it.”

You shifted closer so you could listen to him regale a tale of a world greater than the one you’d only discovered recently. You nodded every so often, encouraging him.

At one point, he pulled out his phone to show you ancient artwork of zodiac constellations. The imagery was beautiful, even if you couldn’t find them hidden amongst the clouds. You thought the stars in the sky were much simpler than the mythos art behind them. Nonetheless, you were spellbound by his fervour. It was a nice change to see him so unabashed in his spiels again.

You lapsed into a hush when he was done, back to admiring the city. You were once again reminded of how you could survive silence with him without it becoming awkward.

That didn’t mean it couldn’t be awkward, though. Like you made it now, as anxiousness filled you from your cold toes to your gut. You were brought back to the emotions you’d dwelled previously.

Sensing your pensive state, Jason turned to meet it. However, your eyes hurried away, landing on Donna and Roy. You were surprised that they’d remained asleep this entire time. His eyes skirted the same path before his head slanted. Reluctantly, you looked to him. His brows creased in question.

Nerves swallowed you up as you considered and re-considered what you wanted to ask.

“You’re staring,” he finally said.

A cagey huff escaped you. “You’re one to talk, you know.”

His mouth quirked at being called out for the habit.

Fear fluttered in a lively burst at his obvious entertainment. Unsure, you began with, “Can I…—I want to ask something.”

He hummed, urging you onwards.

You swallowed, preparing for the fallout. “Do you love Roy?” It was a mortifying croak.

Jason let out a short bark of laughter, reigning it in as soon as he remembered he would wake the dead—and his stoic self. “That’s what’s been bothering you, huh?”

“I’m not—it doesn’t—it doesn’t bother me that you like guys, or just Roy, or whatever,” you stumbled. Your panicked eyes swayed to and fro. Your hands slipped inside your jumper as you felt like you’d said the wrong thing. You didn’t want to say too much, but you also didn’t want to hurt him in the process of getting an answer.

Jason said your name, low and husky, forcing you from your thoughts. You chewed the skin of your cheek as you looked up. “It hasn’t been like that for a long time.”

You tried to contain your sigh of relief. Still, you felt the need to over-explain yourself so he didn’t misjudge your intentions. “Labels or not, I don’t mind. I don’t give myself one…” you admitted. You peeked at him, dazed to see him listening so intently.

“Is that why you use those pronouns?”

You were elated that his response hadn’t made things worse, but you shook your head. “No… that’s… you know how something makes you feel like a man?”

Jason shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I don’t feel that, in either direction.”

He mulled the idea over, deciding he needed to have a conversation with himself on the topic. “Good to know,” Jason murmured. His gaze moved back to you. “Is it, uh, okay when I call you ‘sweetheart’?” he asked, sounding sheepish.

You looked at the lumps that were Donna and Roy before you responded. Slowly, you nodded.

He gave a nod of his own, lips pursed. “Cool.”

“Sorry I snapped at you,” you said softly.

Jason looked at you with a small, teasing smile. “S’all good. You can’t stop jealousy.”

You sputtered. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Right. ‘Course,” Jason said. “You just don’t like my attention being elsewhere.”

“Well, there’s no one more interesting or entertaining than I,” you deflected. Stupidly, you hadn’t disagreed.

He rested his chin on his shoulder as his eyes roamed your face, making you writhe internally. Jason let out a hum, but you weren’t able to decipher whether it was in agreement or otherwise.

Your heart stuttered when he murmured, “Jury’s still deliberating that one, sweetheart.”

Your gaze dropped to your clothes and a hand crept over the material, picking at imaginary lint. His ever-so-observant eyes continued to monitor your every embarrassing movement.

Jason let out a long, weary sigh then. You looked up expectantly. “You sure you want to know me?”

The question he posed was a hefty one, but almost immediately you stammered out, “Yeah. Yes.” You were scared he would run at the first sign of hesitation. You nodded, reinforcing your words. “It’s a bit late for that anyway, isn’t it?”

A bemused noise came from the back of his throat. He blinked at your words, and then his forehead fell into your shoulder. It rocked you backwards until you were able to brace yourself against his mass. You heard him sigh again as his nose nuzzled you shyly.

“Your funeral,” Jason muffled into your jumper.

You woke up bleary-eyed and tired. Your knuckles assaulted your eyes as you blindly walked into the kitchen. In front of you was an indistinct vision of Roy as he dashed around the room frantically.

“Hello,” you announced your presence in a clunky tone, standing like you’d been plucked from a badly animated video game.

Jason stopped chuckling at Roy and his face softened as his eyes landed on you. “Hey,” he greeted, but it was lost amidst Roy’s immediate complaints.

“Someone called in sick again,” he told you as he stuffed food into his mouth. He came up to you, pausing to look you up and down. “You look like shit,” he said. “Bad sleep?”

“You too,” you smiled at him thinly, but you shrugged as you didn’t have an answer beyond that.

“Take a nap, short stack.” Roy pat your head with a grin. You saw the crumbs of what he’d been eating and made a disgusted noise. “Be good,” he said, ignoring your reaction. He then repeated it as he looked over at Jason.

“No promises,” you sighed as Roy once again breezed past you. You winced as he slammed the front door behind him.

You shuffled up to the counter, taking in the smell of flour for the first time. Your stomach grumbled because of it. When Jason turned around, it was with a plate that he slid towards you. You glanced down, realising it was the same order of waffles you’d made at the diner when he’d forced you to eat.

“You know I only ordered this to be annoying, right?”

His head tilted obnoxiously. “Yeah. But it looks good, so.”

You didn’t argue since it was the truth. You got stuck into the waffle without another word, sinking into the taste of chocolate, fruit, and cream. A match made in heaven. You only briefly looked at Jason, whom ate beside you. Absently, he scrolled through his phone.

Through a mouthful of food, you asked, “What are we doing today?”

He side-eyed you. “‘We’?”

You huffed, swallowing the food before you spoke again. “Fine. What are you doing today?”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Nothing. You?”

That irritated you more. “Nothing,” you seethed. “Separately, obviously.”

He bobbed his head, feigning ignorance despite his desire to laugh at your scowl. “Sounds good.”

You harrumphed when he went back to tapping at his phone. In retaliation, you began to scrap the fork against the ceramic plate. It only urged you on as he winced, and again when he glared at you.

“Cut that out,” Jason warned. You ignored him, accidentally eliciting a particularly brutal screech of the utensil. The sound made you nauseous that time.

He swiftly snatched the fork from your grasp. “Eat with your hands like the child you want to be.”

“I’m a child of the cosmos,” you mocked inaudibly. Yet, he managed to catch it, and a deeper frown took over his expression.

Unfortunately for him, he seemed to forget who you were. Out of spite, you concentrated on your empty palm, summoning a knife-like shard. You began to use it like a toothpick to eat the rest of your food.

Jason’s head tipped backwards in exasperation. He let you know with a drawn out, frustrated sigh.

Your chin jutted out in his direction knowingly. “Headache?”

His eyes narrowed at you. “A big one.”

“Hmm. Let me grab you an aspirin,” you said airily.

“And a pillow.”

“Why?”

“So I can smother myself with it,” Jason drawled.

You bit back a laugh. “Let’s go for a walk once you’re done.”

He snorted. “Sure.”

There was quiet between you. Unable to sit in it, he let out another sigh and leaned forward to catch your eye. “We can do that, if you want,” he tried to amend.

You let out a dismissive hum instead of an actual reply. He prodded you with his knee to draw something more.

“Maybe later,” you answered.

Dejected by your response, he realised he may have hurt your feelings. “Yeah. Alright,” he said, voice quiet.

A few minutes had passed when you suddenly cut through the onerous silence. “Dick trains everyone at the manor, right?”

Tense, he agreed.

“I want to go there,” you said, shifting to look at him. “Not today,” you added quickly, because the idea of going right now scared you. “But... soon.”

Jason swallowed, not liking this news. His jaw locked.

“Raven said she could help me, right?” you prompted when he said nothing.

He nodded slowly. “She did.”

“I want to see her, at least.”

He felt a little better knowing what you were really after. “Uh,” he considered aloud, discomfort surely obvious. “Okay. I’ll let her know.” Because he couldn’t deny you that, especially with how your powers—or more so your temper—concerned you.

“Will you come with me?”

Those words caused him to go rigid. He didn’t want to go anywhere near the manor. But glancing at your face, he was met with a pitiful desperation in your eyes. A lump rose up his throat as he cycled through potential excuses. Words faltered and died on his tongue.

You noticed his agitation. “Oh,” you said, focusing elsewhere. “S’okay. You don’t have to.”

“No, I—” Jason rushed out, trying to keep from disappointing you further. “I will. I’ll come.”

You still faced away, not letting him see how your features brightened in case he felt pressured. “Are you sure?”

His tongue dragged over his bottom lip, completely uncertain. “Yeah.”

Doing ‘nothing’ eventuated in exactly that. Both you and Jason plopped onto the couch on opposite ends, participating in your own activity. Jason thumbed through his copy of Pines, absorbed in the fascinating tale. Occasionally, he would look over to check on you or his phone.

You, on the other hand, had found an adult colouring book on your way home one day. The swirly, patterned line art had enticed you to purchase it, along with a small pack of coloured pencils. You filled in the blank blocks with some semblance of order, however you often went outside of the lines to draw other random things. It was a practice in stretching your creative muscle, you would argue.

Your legs had grown sore, tucked beneath you for some time. You stretched them out with a low sound of relief, then placed them upon the coffee table. You sunk lower into the couch as you did so. You knew your back wouldn’t thank you in half an hour, but at that moment it was the perfect position.

However, Jason seemed intent on ruining your comfortability and fun. “Get your feet off the table.”

Your gaze rose from the page to his face to see he wasn’t even looking at you. “No, thank you,” you said, “I’m fine right here.”

Swiftly, his jaw moved from his book to you, brows raised high, begging for you to test his patience. For a split second, you swam in the cauldron that was his potion green eyes. You felt like a witch lost in their sickly-sweet brew.

You inhaled shallowly as you came back down to Earth. The edges of your mouth quirked into what you hoped was an endearing smile. But really, you found you were the only one charmed when he spoke in a steely tone, unimpressed by your defiance. “Now.”

“I have socks on,” you argued.

His nostrils flared and the muscle of his jaw ticked. Sullenly, you let your feet drop from the tabletop. He allowed the stiffness to release from his posture when he was satisfied.

However, you weren’t happy. You wanted to stretch your legs, preferably in the most belligerent way possible. So, you moved your feet from the floor to the sofa and manoeuvred them under his closest thigh. He heaved a sigh but otherwise said nothing.

You pushed them further beneath him until you could slide down the cushion into a half-lying position. He ignored you as he flicked to the next page. You picked up your own book to continue your doodles.

It wasn’t until Jason was sure you were busy that he peeked. He glanced from your face to your feet, noting how unbothered you were to be tangled with his limbs. He tried to settle his nerves—this was how normal people acted when they were on friendly terms.

Twenty minutes later, you grew bored of the colouring and the position. You pulled your feet back to your chest, startling Jason. He watched you through cautious blinks as you pulled the cushion you’d been lying on into your lap. You fluffed it, then placed it on his legs. You moved around, clumsily, so you could fall into it backwards.

You looked up at Jason once you’d done so. He stared at you, arms rigid by his sides. He didn’t know how to react. Pet you like a dog? Throw you across the room for invading his personal space?

You stared back, curious about this new kind of intimacy with him. He didn’t argue even if he looked stressed. The minutes passed without a word shared, until he stiffly looked back at his novel—although there was no way he could read a single line without screwing up now.

You held your book in front of your face, using it as a shield for your sudden jitters. You weren't quite sure what to do. You felt stupid, staring at the pages that were meant to keep you preoccupied.

An idea came to you. You plucked a pencil from your side and flipped to a blank page. You began to scribble, glancing between the illustration and Jason as you worked on your masterpiece.

Eventually, he called you out for it. “What?” he asked apprehensively, chin tilted downwards.

You sent him a playful smile. “I’m drawing you.”

“You are?” There was a hesitant edge to his voice.

You nodded. He quickly tossed aside his own book to snatch yours.

“Hey!” you cried, trying to steal it back.

However, he laughed—not a snicker, or a snort, or a chuckle—a proper full-bellied laugh. It was rare to hear from him, and you were pissed because the book concealed it.

“This is just a double chin,” he stated, peering over the paper’s edge. Amusement glimmered on his expression.

“That’s my view,” you told him wryly. His mouth twitched again.

He hummed as his fingers scratched the stubble on his jawline. “Alright, my turn,” he said, holding out a hand for the pencil. You gave it to him with a wide smile.

You relaxed back into his lap, eyes drifting from his look of concentration to the rest of the apartment.

He chewed on his lip as you looked at him again. “Hey, van Gogh,” you murmured, nudging his abdomen. “You almost done?”

Jason rolled his eyes, instead choosing to finish his artwork in silence. After another minute, he put the pencil down. When his gaze slanted your way, you felt nervous. How did he see you?

He flipped the book around. You clasped your hands over his so he couldn’t escape and yanked it closer. You squinted, taking in his piece with an intrigued noise.

There were two drawings. The first was a silly scribble of a smushed face, entirely too stretched out to be a real person. Your eyes moved to his hidden behind the page and you scoffed funnily.

He greeted you with a crooked smile. “That’s my view.”

You went back to inspecting. The second sketch was a lot better, although truly, neither of you were artists. But you had to admit, he’d drawn you as nicely and dreamily as he could’ve.

You gave a coy smile as you dropped the book. “I guess it’s good enough to keep.”

He shrugged off the compliment.

You touched his arm. “Sorry I made fun of the cosmic stuff.”

He blinked out of surprise. “S’okay. It’s hard to believe.”

There was another pause before you uttered, “You’re vibrating.”

His face creased with confusion. “Pardon?”

You fumbled beneath the cushions to produce his discarded phone. It was held in front of his face as you repeated, “Vibrating.”

He clucked his tongue as he took the phone. Once he’d read the newest message, his eyes slid from the screen to your face. “Roy wants me to go to the store.”

“Okay.” You dragged yourself from his lap. One palm still rested on his thigh as you got used to being upright again. As you tilted to look at him, you scared yourself with how close you were.

Only a couple inches apart, Jason’s eyes trawled your face. You blinked, wondering if he’d said something during your fright. Your gaze dropped to his throat, watching him swallow beneath the tight muscles there. You saw faint scratch-like scars at this distance.

“You coming?” he asked in a quiet, hoarse tone. You glanced up to meet his uncertain eyes.

You nodded and replied, “Vibrating.”

Jason swiftly pushed you off him as he tried to hide his huff of laughter at your stupidity.

One thing you realised quickly was that Jason didn’t do well in crowds of any sort. The moment you’d come off the street, he’d been nervous and stuck close by. He’d tightened his hoodie around his face to hide from the world. You didn’t think of yourself as a particularly comforting person, but you were apparently good enough for him.

At your insistence, Jason selected a shopping cart to stroll along with. You walked beside him, eyeballing all the colourful things in the supermarket. You stopped to gawp at all the fun cereals you hadn’t grown up with.

“Hey,” he hissed, latching onto your wrist within a few seconds. “Don’t wander off. We’re still in Gotham.”

You turned to him. White curls broke up the unamused expression he wore. You frowned as you breathed through your annoyance. “You Americans are spoiled,” you told him petulantly.

His grip loosened. “What d’you mean?”

“I’ve never seen half of these things.”

Jason fell into meekness at the explanation. “Oh,” he murmured, taking a metaphorical step back. Grocery shopping was an overwhelming experience for him, but for you—maybe it was overwhelming in a good way. “Sorry.”

You shrugged him off but nevertheless returned to his side. You continued on and let the whir of the trolley wheels guide you.

Jason’s tone was gentle as he asked, “You miss it?”

“Novi Grad?” He nodded. You paused, thinking it over. You glanced at him. “Yeah. Some of it.”

“What’s it like?” he probed and you felt his curious eyes observe you as you turned into another aisle.

“Beautiful, but decaying... Stark’s bombs ruined so much of its spirit,” you said dismally. You thought of how poverty had the city in a chokehold. “It was never a rich country, but... it was simpler before all that. Safer.”

Jason gave a glum snort. “So, Gotham two-point-oh.”

You agreed half-heartedly. “You would like the castles,” you said, recalling the grand stone brick and mortar, “by the lake. Perfect for being sad.”

He shot you a smile that you didn’t see. “Sounds like me.”

“I know,” you said with a roll of your eyes, but then you brightened considerably. “You know,” you said as you stepped into his path, “I was arrested at a protest.” You amended quickly, “When I was taken.”

Jason stopped. He looked you up and down theatrically. “Should’a known you’re an activist,” he muttered. Truly, it was like another piece of the mystery unravelled before him. He liked that the spitfire in you had gone to a good cause.

Your eyes narrowed. “Okay, mister vigilante, sir.”

“Were you this annoying before, or did that come after?”

You huffed and spun around. You climbed onto the lower rung of the trolley so he’d have to push you as well as the stacked groceries if he wanted to move. A laugh rumbled through his chest as his arms wound around you to grab hold of the handle bar. His fingers sidled against yours on either side, an unusual warmth between them.

“Pretty admirable getting arrested for the cause, you know,” Jason commented over your shoulder.

You casually shrugged into his nearness. “We were being used as lab rats.” You made a bitter noise. An entire sovereignty of peoples, considered low status—unimportant, throwaways, unworthy of life—subjected to the horror of mankind. By those who thought themselves above ethical law and morality. “We just didn’t know the true extent.”

One of Jason’s thumbs grazed your hand. “Br—uh, Batman—picked me up when I was twelve,” Jason said.

Your jaw snapped, bewildered. “You were fighting crime at twelve?”

He let out a humourless laugh. “I wasn’t even the youngest.” You looked appalled by the proclamation. “Yeah,” he muttered his agreement. He stopped to pull something from the shelf.

“You turned out... okay,” you said, as if testing the words. Jason wasn’t one hundred percent sure that it wasn’t a question.

Nevertheless, a flimsy smile played on his lips. “If you say so,” he replied, returning to the cart.

A stranger rounded the corner then, the first in a while. The contents of their basket rattled by their side. They passed by you without a second glance, however, you felt Jason press closer to your back, hiding from view.

You elbowed him when it was safe again. You heard the soft sound of rustling fabric as he swivelled to check. He began onwards in timid silence.

You strolled down the next aisle, eyes roaming over the shelves. “Stop here,” you told him abruptly. He pulled the cart to a standstill, withholding his protest.

From your perch on the cart, you started exploring the boxes, deciding whether or not you’d like any flavours enough to try one. When it took longer than a few seconds for you to choose, you felt a head droop between your shoulder blades. You leaned a little more Jason’s way, allowing your gravity to shift closer to his own.

He hummed as his arms crept closer experimentally. You felt the slight pressure of them as they squeezed your sides. “Are you going to pick one?” he yawned, not mentioning your distracted state.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. But you didn’t want to, knowing he’d move away. With a soft sigh, you grabbed a box and tossed it into the cart.

It was a surprise that Jason didn’t let go as he instead knuckled at his eye.

“Are you going out tonight?” you asked, concerned.

“Uh, yeah. If Roy gets back in time,” he said, trying not to yawn again.

You twisted around to scowl at him, forcing him back. He looked up at you from beneath his eyelashes, much too flippantly. “Don’t worry your pretty head off. I’m all good.”

“Uhuh.” Curling a finger around the string of his hoodie, you tugged at it in disbelief.

His eyebrows raised. “You done or can we go?”

“Done,” you said with a glare.

He knocked you back against the cart lightly, sporting a smugness that annoyed you more. At least his arms returned to their position around you, you thought indulgently.

You hopped off the cart at the checkout so you could help Jason unload the groceries. However, you realised that something off to the side had distracted him. You followed his gaze beyond the supermarket doors to find only emptiness. He looked back with a furrowed brow, placing more items on the conveyer belt. Again, he glanced over. His fist rubbed his cheek and he looked back at you. He fished out his wallet and passed it over.

“I have to, uh. Phone call,” Jason spoke haltingly. You jerked your chin once, although you very much doubted it. Without another word, he turned and stalked through the exit doors.

You pocketed his wallet, instead paying with your own money. You grabbed the bags as the attendant handed them over and placed them inside the trolley. Ruefully, you wondered how the two of you were going to carry all this home.

“Thank you,” you said once they’d finished the lot. You moved out of the way to wait for Jason.

With nothing better to do, you chose to go through his wallet. You searched for his driver’s licence. You were confused to see that it didn’t have his real name. You thumbed over the card. Other than the false name, it looked legitimate.

You looked up as he strolled towards you, hands in his pockets. The moment he reached you, you were quick to ask, “Why do you have a fake ID?” A horrifying thought struck you. “You’re not underage, right?”

He snorted, snatching his wallet back. “Do I look underage?”

“No...” you said warily. “Are you a wanted fugitive?”

“Jesus, no.” His fingers clutched at his nose. “You really haven’t googled me, huh?”

“No?” You swallowed nervously. “Should I?”

It was his turn to falter. “Uh, I’d appreciate if you didn’t.”

“Why?” you asked, tone weak.

“Look, I—I’m not on the run, alright? It's just about my family.”

“Your bio one?”

“No,” Jason answered sourly. “My Wayne one.”

You nodded slowly, not entirely convinced.

Remembering something you’d tried to do with him a long time ago, Jason stuck his pinky out. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at his outstretched hand. It was the same action he’d made fun of you for.

He huffed when you didn’t immediately agree. “Promise me?”

“But... I want to know,” you said truthfully.

Jason made another aggrieved noise. “You’ll never hear the full story if it isn’t from me.”

Okay, he had you there.“Fine,” you muttered and swiped at his pinky, then crossed your arms.

“I ordered us an Uber,” he said to change the subject, hoping to lessen your glare.

Your weight shifted from one foot to the other as you glanced to the side casually. “Good. You would’ve been on your own otherwise.”

A/N: If you enjoy my work and have the means, consider tipping me on ko-fi!

__________

Tags: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @caswinchester2000, @missxfeels, @thequietchildren, @midnxghtblue, @plantedcats, @darkness-falls-xo, @urminebutidontwantyou, @sweetsaph, @thetiny-hufflepuff

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[personasintro]

friendly dates | knj drabble

⇢ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; friendly dates sound nice... but without the friend part it'd sound even better, too bad you're too scared to face your feelings

⇢ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, idiots to lovers au

⇢ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language

⇢ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.7+

𝒂/𝒏: commissioned anonymously!

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ☕️ | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

“So where are you going for tonight's date?”

You're in the middle of trying one of the long dresses you own when your best friend speaks up from behind you, sprawled on your bed while looking at you in the reflection of your big mirror.

You give her a look, cocking your head to the side as you look at yourself again. The dress is pretty, you actually haven't worn it out yet. You've never had the opportunity since you ordered them only a week ago.

“It's not a date,” you inform her, glancing at your friend who has a subtle grin on her face. You're not surprised to hear her calling it a date, she always does this. “How do I look?”

Turning around, she eyes your outfit and overall make-up before she, like every good friend, tells you how beautiful you look. “For a usual hang out with him, you certainly do invest a lot of time and money to look perfect.”

Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips in annoyance. “Namjoon and I are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she says back, snorting as you sport a deep scowl on your face. “Friends don't go out every Friday and weekend to a freaking museum or hang out in a bookstore, Y/N. I'm telling you, this is not just casual hanging out with your friend. We both know you've a thing for him and he certainly has a thing for you.”

You didn't know it's possible, but your scowl gets even deeper. Even though you've never admitted that you've a thing for Namjoon, your best friend knows you and no matter how subtle you're trying to act and appear all the time, she just knows. It's not that hard to tell. But Namjoon has never made any move and even though you don't like the stereotypical thought of men always doing the first move, this is more about your fear of getting rejected. Also, you don't think he has a thing for you.

Sure, he pays for your food or drinks whenever you hang out, no matter how many times you scold him for it. One time he borrowed you his jacket because it was late at night and it was freaking freezing. Namjoon has done many things that made your heart even weaker for him. But he's nice to everyone and you don't doubt he wouldn't do all these things to another girl. As much as it hurts, it's true.

And the fact he has never even hinted at the possibility of him liking you in a more serious way than just a friend who he likes to attend museums, art galleries or just casually hanging out in a bookstore or a library. As far you know, he doesn't have that many friends that share the same love for books and art like he does.

You both just clicked. You have the same interests and you hang out because you like spending time together. He's easy-going and you making plans with him almost every weekend has become a certainty. But of course, there are times when one of you can't hang out and that's completely fine.

“Well,” you clear your throat, straightening the casual yet elegant dress. “We're exactly that. Just two friends.”

“Oh, so you don't like him?” She presses. You know what she's trying to do, but you won't give her that satisfaction of being right.

“I like him… as a friend.” you point out, voice getting slightly deeper when you add the friend part.

You watch her narrow her eyes, thinking about something for a moment before she grins at you. “So you wouldn't mind if I told you I like Namjoon?”

Without realizing, you automatically tense and if you weren't so focused on the uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you'd notice the way the corners of her lips twitch.

“Since when do you like him like that?” You decide to exclaim, slightly louder than you intended.

Just like you, your best friend is easy-going too and has no problem hanging out with whoever. Even though museums and art galleries aren't her thing, or anything that you and Namjoon enjoy the most, she hung out with you and Namjoon a couple of times when you weren't exactly doing that. She'd sometimes join and none of you really minded it.

Her and Namjoon get along pretty well, but you've never noticed anything suspicious or something that could hint at her liking him that way. It definitely doesn't feel nice to hear her say it. She knows how you feel, she just wants to hear you say it. But you're stubborn and there's still a slight chance she might like him.

You mean… it's Namjoon after all.

“Why do you look so surprised? Maybe I do like him like that. I thought you liked him and well, like any good best friend, I just backed off. I mean… I'm not the one who's invited to art galleries and museums.”

“Art galleries and museums aren't even your thing.” you murmur, ignoring the jealousy bubble in your stomach.

“Did you just ignore everything I said? Hello,” she sings out, “I like Namjoon!” she exclaims and you stare at her dumbfounded, blinking a couple times. Trying to detect any emotion on her face, or whether she's serious or not, is hard and almost impossible because she just stares at you.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask her nonchalantly. “You want to hear that yes, I like him but I'm too scared to admit it because there's a high chance he doesn't like me like that? The last thing I want is to ruin our friendship.”

And then, slowly but surely, you see her corners twitching in a pleasant grin. “Yes, I actually wanted to hear that exactly.”

She got you. Oh my god. You can't believe it was this easy for her to make you admit it out loud. Your face heats up and you uncomfortably shift on your spot, but then you're met with her amused eyes and grin all over again.

So you grab the first thing you get your hands on, the other dress you had prepared as a back-up in case the ones you're wearing right now wouldn't be it, and you throw it at your best friend who starts cackling.

“Was that so hard to admit it?” she laughs, catching your dress and placing them next to her. She sits up, calming down as her features soften at your huffed face. “Look… first of all, I don't like Namjoon that way. You guys just fit together perfectly, it's hard to imagine someone else having that spark like the two of you have. However… how do you know there won't be someone who really likes Namjoon in the future? I don't mean to scare you, that's the last thing I want. But you should look at it from another side. Maybe telling him how you feel will make things easier.”

“Yeah, or worse.” you murmur.

She sighs, cocking her head slightly at you. “You never know if you won't try it. Trust me, I know Namjoon likes you. I can't say I'm hundred percent sure how things could end up, but I think it's worth a try. He's worth a try. Don't you think?”

“It's intimidating,” you admit, “I'm not the type to admit my feelings, especially not to a man when he's...” Perfect, attentive, friendly, cute, handsome, kind… “Him.”

“I don't want you to get hurt, Y/N. And I know seeing him with someone else might hurt even more than a rejection.”

You get the feeling she's right, even though you don't like hearing it.

“Oh my, look!”

You almost flinch at the loud and excited voice coming from Namjoon. You barely get the time to react when your wrist is gently grabbed by him as he's pulling you towards another room. He's gushing over the art and once you make it there, you finally realize why.

The room is filled with multiple paintings (of course) but the only difference is, that each painting is centred with each color. From bright white to dark colors such as burgundy and black. Yellow, green, red, pink, purple, blue… so many different colors. The whole room looks like a rainbow, each painting different and interesting.

“Wow,” you let out, completely amazed because it's not just very colorful but also eye-pleasing for everyone's eyes.

When you glance at Namjoon, his mouth is opened and eyes shining with complete amazement. He lets go of your wrist, leaving you slightly disappointed but it's not like you expected him to hold you there more than necessary.

You both move to the first painting, admiring the white art that portrays something like clouds and apparently wings that Namjoon notices and comments.

You're equally interested in Namjoon and his own comments, always finding his opinion and own take very interesting, just as you're interested in the art itself. Between doing this, your own mind is sometimes wandering off to a different topic and that is – your best friend's words from earlier. You can't help it, every time you hear him or look at him, it's like her words scream inside your mind.

It leaves you more quiet than usual, you mostly let Namjoon talk and hum to whatever he says. You're both standing in front of blue painting – an art that portrays most things when you think of the color blue. Water, waves, even air… all of those things can be seen in the very impressive painting. You like it, however that's the only thing that leaves your mouth as you glance at Namjoon, finding him already staring at you.

Your eyes automatically widen, surprised by his furrowed brows and even more when he lets out a silenced sigh, although you hear it very clearly.

“You don't like this, do you?” he suddenly asks, leaving you even more shocked. But before you can clarify or even ask him what does he mean by asking this, he's already talking again. “I know it's not a fancy art gallery. These paintings are painted by artists that aren't that much recognized. A lot of students actually painted most of these. Profits from the tickets are going straight to those artists, students included.”

You listen to him ramble, cheeks slightly going red when his chest heaves from how quickly he said it without taking a breath.

“No, no, I like this. I really like this art gallery,” you assure him quickly, “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Can I be honest?” he asks sweetly as usual, eyes flickering to you almost worriedly as you nod. He sighs again, fingers brushing his soft honey hair. “You're quieter than usual. I can't explain it, I feel like there's something wrong.”

Attentive as always, you're surprised and not actually surprised at the same time. Of course, he noticed there's something wrong. You're not sure whether you should be touched by that gesture or be embarrassed he figured it out.

“I… I'm sorry,” you murmur, hanging your head low for a moment before you sigh too, looking back at him. “It's not your fault… I'm just… I really like it here, okay? Please don't think I don't. I'm sorry, I'm awful right now. You bought us these tickets and I just ruined--”

“Hey,” he cuts you off softly, stepping closer as he respectfully places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “You haven't ruined anything. You can be honest with me… or don't be. I just want to know if you're okay. If you're not feeling it tonight, we can just take a rain-check or--”

“No,” you cut him off this time, cheeks flushing at how quick you bursted those words. “I mean--I'm really happy to be here tonight. I just talked to Amia about something and that kinda got stuck in my head.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” he asks, brows furrowing in worry as you chuckle and shake your head.

You look him in the eyes, heart softening right away as you still hear her words echoing in your head. Maybe you could tell him what bothers you without telling him he's a part of it.

“No, we didn't,” you smile, bracing yourself to finally tell him the truth. Half truth, more likely. “There's just this one guy I like… and I'm kinda scared to tell him that. Amia keeps telling me I should tell him before it's too late.”

“Oh,” he lets out, dropping his hand off your shoulder immediately as he looks a little baffled. Your smile drops at that. “You like someone?”

“Yes,” You. However, you don't finish it as he gives you a slight smile. “It's stupid… I just don't know what to do.”

“Well,” he smiles again, although you don't find it honest and sweet as usual. He takes a step back, glancing at the painting as he shrugs. “You'll think of something.”

And with that he turns around and walks to another painting, leaving you with a cracking heart and open mouth.

One thing is sure… at least you didn't tell him it's him you were talking about. Because then your heart wouldn't be just cracking but it'd actually break from such a reaction

Despite what happened, the rest of your “hanging out” is going smoothly. Namjoon keeps his main focus on the paintings and just like before, you hum in response and smile his way whenever he looks at you. But you still feel a slight uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You're not sure if you're ready to cry or not… You guess you'll find out once you get back home.

Once you're about to leave, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom, to which Namjoon responds to a light and friendly “of course”. He waits for you in the lobby, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his coat in the meantime. You don't spend that much time in the restroom, you quickly do your business and join Namjoon.

You spot him almost immediately, seeing him turned with his back to you as he has a phone clutched to his ear. You stay silent, not wanting to interrupt him but you want to make your presence known, but before you can actually walk around him for him to see you, you catch a glimpse of his conversation with whoever is on the other line.

“No, it's not a date,” he groans silently. You see him lift his arm and you guess he uses it to rub his face frustratedly. “It's just… a friendly date, alright? Look, she likes someone.”

Your breath catches in your throat and for a second, you're sure you forgot how to breathe as you listen to his conversation.

“No, it's okay… I didn't exactly make it known. No, seriously. Taehyung stop--we're just friends. Nothing else.”

You bite onto your lower lip, hearing Namjoon bidding a goodbye to his friend. You take that opportunity to quickly take a few steps and stop beside him when he notices your presence. He flinches, staring at you with big eyes as he looks around himself.

“Sorry, it was Tae…” he lets out. You're not sure why he is apologizing. “He actually recommended this art gallery to me.”

He is rambling.

But you just stare at him, not really sure what to make out of his phone call. There's no doubt he was talking about you, but you're kind of puzzled what to think of it. He looks nervous, you notice right away when he keeps glancing from your eyes whenever your eye contact exceeds five seconds.

“How--how much did you hear?” he asks suddenly, gulping slightly.

You realize he knows you must've heard something. You can't see yourself, you don't even realize your features are scrunched in confusion but curiosity at the same time, but Namjoon sees it all and he almost cringes when he asks you about the phone call.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you apologize immediately, giving him a crooked smile. “I didn't hear much if that's what you're scared of. I mean… you haven't said anything that we both already didn't know.”

“What?” he breathes out.

“Well, you said we're just friends, right? That's what we are… and this,” you motion with your finger between you and him and around you, “Is just a friendly date.”

Your features turn sour, betraying you as Namjoon narrows his eyes and scans your face. He's always been very smart and you can already see the wheels turning in his head. Or it’s the bitter chuckle you let out that makes him think that you do sound almost hurt to hear him say that.

And when he looks up, the look he gives you almost scares you (not because he looks mad or something) but because he looks as if he already knows what you’re thinking. The possibility scares you and you curse at yourself for opening your mouth. You should’ve kept it shut while you had the chance.

“Somehow, you don’t seem too pleasant with that.” he tells gently, tilting his head slightly which makes your throat dry.

“With what?” you mutter. You’re stalling, knowing he already caught onto that but you act as if you didn’t know.

“With me saying that we’re just friends and this is a friendly date,” he still answers. “Would it be too bad if I said I’d be more happy without that friendly part?”

Wait—

“What?” you breathe out, eyes widening immediately. Did you hear him right?

“You know why Taehyung called me? Do you want to know what he told me?” he asks, chuckling a little at the end as he doesn’t wait for your answer. “He was trying to encourage me to tell you the truth. But I told him I can’t do that because there’s someone else in your life that you like.”

“And what is the truth, Joon?” you almost whisper, figuring out where this is going and you can’t believe it — not until you hear him say it out loud and confirm your deepest desire.

“Come on, you’re smart. You already know.” he offers softly, giving you a pained smile.

“Maybe I do want to know,” you ponder for a moment, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I’m a freaking coward for not telling you sooner and for always backing away whenever I had the chance to tell you how I feel.”

Your insides tremble with happiness and shock at the same time, your mouth opened and lips stretching to the biggest smile but that’s until you let out a big laugh. Namjoon looks confused, tips of ears already getting read from embarrassment. Thinking he feels the same fear of rejection that you felt at the idea of confessing, you quickly explain yourself.

“We’re both so stupid,” you shake your head, an amused grin playing on your lips as you take a step closer to Namjoon. He watches you with big curious eyes, not moving an inch. “You’re the guy I talked about. I like you too, Joon. All these evenings and days spent with you… I can’t imagine doing it with someone else. And Amia told me I should tell you but I feared you don’t see me the same way. Joon, I think we’re both idiots and cowards.”

He stares at you for a moment, not moving before he suddenly wraps his arms around your frame and hugs you tightly.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers as you giggle, hugging him back. “All this time you liked me back?”

“Of course. I thought you wouldn’t like me back, you never made it known. You’re always sweet to anyone and apart from being the same old and amazing Namjoon, I wouldn’t be able to even guess that there’s a chance you like me.”

“Of course, I like you. You’re smart, funny and goofy. I genuinely like spending time with you.” he tells you, pulling away so you can see his honest eyes full of adoration.

Namjoon notices how skeptical you look, almost as if you don’t believe him and that’s why he decides to finally man up and take matters into his own hands. One step and he’s so close to you that your chests almost brush as you stare at him with big eyes. He cups your face, watching how your eyes grow even wider but that’s all you can do — just stare at him and thinking how this look, because it looks like he’s about to—

And then he connects your lips in an innocent kiss, soft and tender that you almost think as if you just imagined it but when you close your eyes, he’s there gently pulling away. Your lips tingle with excitement, happiness and shock at the same time and when Namjoon notices your flustered face, he chuckles.

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too straightforward of me,” he says, features slightly twisting to worried eyes when you don’t respond and just stare at him.

Did he really kiss you? He kissed you. Namjoon kissed you.

“I’ve been meaning to do that every time we hung out.”

“I—wow,” you breathe out, fingers slightly grazing over your lips as you smile at Namjoon. “I guess we’re both cowards. If I told you sooner too, we could’ve kissed way sooner.”

That makes Namjoon laugh, a genuine laugh as he reaches for your face and gently strokes your cheek.

“Can I take you on a date? A real date that we both consider a date?” he pleads.

Your heart is jumping with happiness, hands slightly trembling as you let out a nervous giggle. But then you reach for his hands, squeezing them while all he can see in your eyes is genuine happiness. However, it’s Namjoon’s turn to look slightly nervous as he shifts on his spot but doesn’t usher you to give him an answer. He is patient, looking at you with fondness and honesty.

And when you finally open your mouth to respond, you see the most beautiful dimpled smile that makes your whole chest tingle with so much love. Maybe it’s too soon to call it that but you already know what you’re feeling, so your answer is more than clear.

“I thought you’d never ask.”