#so there you go. I bestow upon you the crown of 'made me read and love it against all reservations'

[nouearth]

my favorite scent is you.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: bruce needs to be taken care of too (in which reader believes it's through the form of sex).

wc: 3.5k. genre: smut, angst (kinda?). warnings: top!bruce, consensual!somnophilia, blowjobs, slow mouth-fucking, fondling, reader is asleep, bruce and reader are the same age, reader also grew up with bruce, mentions of parental death, trauma-bonding.

notes: it's been a while since i've done a brucey smut (and also fulfilled a request), so here ya go! actually my first time writing about somnophilia, so be easy on me, lmao. it was harder than i thought! also i'm trying a new layout,,, kinda, don't mind me.

“Do you remember that night? When my parents… you know.”

It had been a little less than a decade, but the uneasiness you felt when mentioning your parents’ death was akin to hovering your palm above an open flame. The flicker of the heat frightened you. Though, you couldn’t help but feel magnetic towards it—closer and closer—until you felt a strike to your calloused hand.

Just a little more, and you’ll break free.

It was striking how your wounds maintained their novelty. Years of skin hardening, scabbing and layering over the memory of Bruce breaking the news to you on that night, and the slightest mention of your parents tore it open with little defiance.

“Yeah…” Bruce whispered, and a sudden impulse to hold you prevailed over him. He turned over on his side, slipping his arms over and under your frame, and pulled your back flushed to his chest. You eased with a melting squirm, a physical gratitude, and then another when you pressed a kiss to his forearm. “It was supposed to be Alfred telling you, but I insisted.”

“Really?” Your curiosity was piqued and you felt Bruce nod into the crown of your head, breathing you in deep like his favourite cologne. A scent he’d never wear himself because it matched you perfectly. “How come?”

“Well, I had no one other than Alfred when my parents died. He tried his best, but we barely had time to grieve. A bunch of responsibilities were bestowed upon him overnight; my parents’ estate, numerous paperworks, the press and media, not to mention the funeral service. It was… a lot for him.”

Bruce sighed, squeezing you tighter for support as he continued. “I remember reading—signing off things that I knew nothing about the very next day.” He then laughed, a bitterness surfing for air in the bass of his voice. “I didn’t even have a signature yet.”

“I’m sorry…” A heaviness sank you and Bruce deeper into the mattress. You latched onto Bruce’s arm for support, held him gently, and found levity through the brush of his lips, as if he was saying—consoling you through the black void: I’m here, I’m here. 

“Is that why you guys hired my parents?”

“Mm-hm, we needed help around the manor while Alfred had bigger duties to tend to. And I’m glad he suggested the idea as much as I was apprehensive about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met such an incredible family. A year became two, then another two, then another, and…” Bruce recalled the sounds, the visions of red and blue flashing—blaring into the sky.  “Which was why I thought it would be best if it came from me. So I could be that someone that I desperately needed during my grieving.”

“You shouldn’t have been thinking about that though… I mean, what—we were only fifteen? Coming from your background, you should’ve been… cocky, annoying, emo, selfish, like every other teenager.

“I guess your personality kind of compensated for that—” He amused himself with some levity.

“Hey!” You choked out a laugh, then lightly elbowed his stomach behind you. “Ass.”

“Ow,” Bruce pressed a smile to the back of your head, inhaling your scent again. “I did have that emo phase though.”

“Oh yeah—” Within his hold, you turned your body to meet Bruce face-to-face as a flood of memories came rushing in. You greeted him with a smile that he was able to single out from within the dark. Then, he made sure your presence was acknowledged with a chaste kiss. 

“Your hair came down to your nose and stuff—oh! And you kept wearing the same hoodie too.” 

“Yeah, okay—we get it. Not my best look.” He groaned, tearing himself away from you as your descriptions of Bruce suddenly developed into powerfully cringe-inducing memories. As embarrassing as the past was, he was glad it brought you some kind of merriment. He’d been scolded multiple times by numerous people, though namely Alfred, to treat you better.

You and Bruce weren’t always close. In all honesty, it took your parents’ death that empowered you two to stick together more than ever. Where darkness used to storm over the roof of the manor, you and Bruce managed to conjure a light that illuminated a path to find sanctuary within each other.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me.” The moonlight reflecting through the bedroom window casted shadows across Bruce’s profile. Wrinkles you’ve never noticed before were accentuated; eye-bags that you’ve been nagging at him to take care of deepened; glimpses of a boy who was forced to grow up. 

He turned when you reached over to trace over the spotlighted features. A single digit caressed the bumpy bridge of his nose; the stubble that tickled you whenever you kissed; the cut over his broad chin that was your favorite spot to kiss,; the scar over his left cheek that had been healing for months, only to restart the process again after Bruce’s late night endeavors.

“Let me take care of you now.”

You weren’t sure how Bruce took your proposal. Recalling the moment had you adding unnecessary details that all-the-more exploded the situation into a narrative you couldn’t exactly trust.

Wait… he made a weird face when I told him. I remember a face! No, idiot—he just had an itch on his cheek. Oh.

I don’t remember his phone ringing… You think he was trying to get out of the conversation? Maybe? He usually has his phone set on the loudest volume possible…

Oh god, he probably thinks I’m some kind of sex-crazed addict. Well, aren’t you— No?! I just—wanted to take care of him… We rarely see each other these days and I doubt the lunches I’d make for him add much to that narrative. I needed something more. Wow, I’ve been talking to myself for this long?

You probably look crazed, especially if someone were to walk in the bedroom at this moment, but you’d be too deep into your thoughts to hardly notice. If you did notice, you’d probably go on a tangent about how Bruce was probably disgusted by how you could even suggest a thing like that.

Your toes and fingers curled at the recollection you were certain happened.

“So… I know you’ve been out late at night—” “(M/N), it’s not what you—” “Shh, I’m too good of a catch for you to cheat on me.” “I mean, keep that cockiness up and maybe—” “Excuse me?!” “I’m joking.” “Uh-huh, well, keep joking and I might have to rescind my offer.” “Your offer?” “Look, I haven’t seen you much lately. It’s not your fault. You’re busy.” “I know—I just need to deal with this…” “Bruce, you look—you are tired. You’re overworked and whenever we do spend time together, you’re asleep!” “I’m trying my b—” “You’re trying your best, I know! And I don’t know what you do at night, not sure if I do want to know, but… two-three hours of sleep is not enough. You’re killing your body.” “Hm…” “And one day, you’re going to crack and I just…” “Just..?” “I’m not sure how to… put it.” “What is it?” “If you want to… and it’s entirely up to you, but…” “Jesus, spit it out—” “I— if I’m still asleep, and you want to somehow… relieve your stress..?” “Oh—” “I’m all yours.”

The second hand on the clock cycled slower, almost as if it was mocking you for being so desperate, impatient, and doubting. Yet, at the same time—if clocks could have a personality—there was a dormant kindness in the rhythm of the minute hand striking every corner of the wheel. Gentle and soothing, the lids of your eyes grew heavier with every passing second as the sound of the clock counted sheeps for you.

Forty, forty-one… fourty-two… Forty… three…

The floor creaked despite Bruce’s best efforts to remain light on his feet. You’ve always been a light sleeper, even at the sound of wind whistling you’d jolt up to, but surprisingly—nothing. 

As he approached his side of the bed, his eyes settled on you like always. To Bruce, it was a sweet sigh of relief to come back home to you again. Sometimes, a miracle depending on the crimes of that night. Nightly patrols have taken a toll on him; on his body, on his mentality; but being in your presence always—no matter what—brought him back to the solitude his life was at before being laboured by vengeance.

Coldly, he sat on the edge, careful to not wake you, as he dried off the damp strands of his washed hair with a towel. Then, he chased after the tremors off his bare body with several rubs of the coarse towel, gathering water molecules into the material until he was somewhat dry. It was the typical nightly routine of Bruce Wayne, in which he was guilty of vacating you of.

Bruce witnessed—took part in—how you ended your night. A late night snack, a book, a tv show—and he’d stroke your hair to the sound of his heartbeat until you were out like a light. He’d never forget to kiss your forehead as if it was an enchantment that would guard him for the rest of the night. Naively, Bruce was apprehensive of the subtle chance of reducing his survival rate if he were to miss a night of seeing you—touching you. Even if you had the biggest argument with him, even if you were in the wrong, he’d make sure to see you one last time before escaping into the shadows, saving the city—saving you.

After dressing himself in a fresh set of briefs, the soft cushions of his bed and pillows enticed him back into sanctuary. He crawled back into bed and instinctively found his arms around your body, warm and full against the recovering bruises against his own flesh. Skipping dinner was a norm, but he felt satiated when he could hear you breathe, feel your pulse, and watch you writhe within his doting affection.

“Goodnight.” Bruce muttered as he nestled his nose into your hair, another deep inhale of your scent to ground him that you were still present in his life. And then another as his head turned towards your neck, a familiar smell that taunted him to lean closer until his nose pressed softly into the crook of your skin.

White musk.

The top note of his favourite cologne on you. It lingered delightfully in Bruce’s nostrils, and there was a reason why he always urged you to spray it on date nights. It was intoxicating.

Come to think of it, Bruce’s night routine hadn’t completely checked off all of his tasks for the night. After he would come home, it was a no-brainer to shower off the sweat, dirt, and sometimes blood, from his patrols. He would scrape his hair clean with the shampoo suds, mint and cooling on his scalp. Then he’d move onto his body. The suds would trickle down his torso, gather in his muscles, and he’d add onto the bubbles with his body wash, lathering himself from head to toe. And almost always, the slightest brush of his length would break the restraints the night had locked his sanity behind. It was always you that managed to free him. As he would squeeze himself, fondle his sack while the suds dribbled down his leg and feet, he’d think of you—miss you in ways he wouldn’t dare to ignore, ways in which he was ashamed to desert you of.

“I’m all yours.” Your proclamation echoed, ran marathons in Bruce’s mind as the white musk led him astray. The simple thought of him taking advantage of you guilted him, churned his stomach until it was bundled into thick knots, but it made his heart race.

“(M/N)?” He whispered. The bed creaked when Bruce peered over you, and he was met by silence. A few soft snores joined the ticking of the clock, but for the most part, silence.

I shouldn’t… Bruce convinced himself. It was… shameful to even think of taking advantage of you like that—in your unconscious state, in your vulnerability. You looked peaceful in your slumber and knowing how hard you worked, he wouldn’t dare to ruin it because of his own selfish desires.

He sighed, rolling flat onto his back again, hoping the uncomfortable ache in his briefs would settle down in a minute or so. When it didn’t, Bruce tended to it with a brief re-adjustment of the way his length stood. Then again as he twitched in defiance.

Again, as he throbbed.

And again, when his briefs couldn’t support his throbbing erection anymore. 

Bruce turned his head to the side, scanning your unconscious state. His eyes traced the languid form of your body as it sank deep into the mattress, hugging the air to your body while he slowly pulled the blanket off of you.

The bed creaked as inch by inch, Bruce scooted closer to you, turning back to lie on his side and nearly spooning you again. His movements were sluggish, apprehensive to wake you, but at the same time, there was an adrenaline rush surging through him knowing he could be caught any second (despite your permission).

His hand felt it as it caressed your arm in singular, docile strokes. Then his breath, as he leaned closer, pressing himself against you again, and slipped a hand under your shirt. Your bare stomach rested warmly against his calloused palm, and he felt your breath hitch, your stomach tensed, every evidence of your presence, as Bruce ran a palm upwards to touch your chest once, then back down to bravely slither under the waistband of your boxers.

“Fuck…” Bruce’s breath unevened, struggling to keep a steady rhythm, when his palm gently groped a handful of your flaccid cock, a complete opposite of the shameful erection he was prodding near your bottom. You writhed once, and he quickly paused with a shudder as you suddenly turned to lie on your back, smacking the dryness in your throat away as you drove yourself into deeper slumber.

He found it unusual how you haven’t awakened by now, but the cynical part of him pleaded for you to remain asleep—until he had his way with you.

Gently, Bruce lifted your hips to pull down the remainder of your boxers off until you were bare in all of your glory before him. Your balls lay briefly in between your legs before they were back to being fondled in his warm palms. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this…”

Droplets of sweat formed over Bruce’s hairline as he sluggishly maneuvered himself to kneel over your unconscious state. His thighs hardened, flexed as he maintained his balance over you. He stroked his cock with his free-hand; to the gentle snores you poured out, to your slightly parted lips that he could easily spread open with his girth, and to his surprise, to the stiffness of your cock as it stirred awake from his constant fondling.

What are you dreaming about? Are you dreaming of me? Are you dreaming of being fucked by me? Bruce groaned as he witnessed the once softened features of your face stiffened into diffident lust. Your breath unknowingly quickened when Bruce began stroking your cock together with his in one grasp. Your body writhed with uncomfortable pleasure as if you wanted whatever was happening to you to stop, yet the throbbing veins of your cock begged Bruce for more—to hold you for longer, to keep doing as he pleased.

Bruce forgot what it was like to have you like this; to have you squirming beautifully beneath him, dripping in heavy pre-cum while simultaneously having your cock lathered in his own fluid. He was enticed by your every movement, squirming and writhing confined by the state of slumber as you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t stop the uncomfortable pleasure that was happening to you because you were dreaming a dream that refrained you from resisting your boyfriend.

I know you want it. Fuck… I know you want my cum, (M/N). He paused briefly to press his forehead into yours, sweat dripping off his face and onto your body in his maneuver, and breathed languidly against your lips to find the parting in order to breathe his lewd thoughts into you. Bruce was careless, dangerously brave as he slipped a tongue inside of you to spread your mouth open further. You made a sound, but he muted it with a swallow as he ravished you like honey on a spoon. Remnants of mint lingered on his tongue, and as much as he wanted to continue tasting you, he needed to relieve himself.

He was close.

Carefully, he dragged himself over your chest and kneeled over your chest. Bruce’s cock hung heavy above your slumber, dripping in thick strings of pre-cum from the plump tip—a shameful exhibit of how much this had turned him on, how much he had been deprived of this act for so long.

Open wide. It was morbid. Bruce never thought himself of ever once doing this obscene act, but the guilt that had been the cause of his apprehension was only fleeting the moment he pushed his cock into your sleeping mouth. 

“Oh, fuck…” He was careful with you. Careful enough to not stir you awake, but courageous enough to fulfill his sense of greed. Bruce pushed deeper, and deeper until he couldn’t anymore. His thick cock steadied your breathing and in favor, your saliva warmed him with complete gratitude.

Come on, I know you can take it… His eyes darkened at your inability to take his girth. As much as it sounded like a threat, it drove him delirious knowing you couldn’t. Even in your waking moments, it fueled a sense of pride when you gagged on his cock, covered him in bubbly thick spittle, and looked like an absolute mess while attempting to swallow him again.

Fuck, (M/N)... You’d pull him out when you had enough of gagging on his cock and jerk him off instead, catching your breath in the midst of it all. He never told you, but it was Bruce’s favourite part whenever you two did this together. The pure lust in your eyes, craving for a fill that you and him both know that he would deliver upon greatly. And somehow, as lewd as the act was, you both knew it was more than sex. You and Bruce were making love, fucking with a craving that you only have for each other because it was only you two that could bring this type of pleasure to one another. 

“Fuck—” Bruce paced himself, biting back an adamant moan, thrusting slow yet filling into your mouth as he held onto the headboard. The scrape of your teeth made him hiss, but the pleasure of your warm mouth was so fulfilling that it overwhelmed any painful feeling you’ve prescribed him to.

I’m close, (M/N)... Fuck, let me cum on you… On your body, on your face, I want it everywhere on you.

He released his cock from your mouth and took the heavy girth into his own palm, pumping the muscle with a sudden vigor that had been motivated to see you covered in his fluids. Bruce’s eyes rolled back into his lids, panting heavy and harder because he was so close—so fucking close. He could see you sticking your tongue out for him, on your knees, playing with your cum-covered cock as you would wait patiently for his reward. You would begin begging for it—his cum, his cock, him. You’d worship his body, mouthing at his toned thighs, then his abdominal muscles, licking the sweat off the gutters to briefly satiate your appetite for Bruce.

Until you were gifted with his indulgent desire for you and only you in the form of thick and creamy white ropes. “I’m comin—” Bruce’s stomach sucked in hard, his abs contracting while his thighs vibrated with tremors, then with a guttural push, he released himself with a strong grunt. His grasp directed his thick and heavy loads towards your chest and stomach, stroking his throbbing cock through the glorious sprays. He sucked in his teeth to control the sounds that were threatening to burst out of his throat and whimpered with a shudder when it was unmanageable, continuing to empty his balls until he could smell the heavy sex and musk off your body.

Scanning you from head to toe, Bruce was breathless. Despite his delirious stint, it was impressive to see you drifting off to sleep like nothing had happened. Or rather, it was impressive that he had a certain amount of control to not completely make love to you like a wild mammal, rousing you from sleep.

Nonetheless, he powered through the overwhelming need to sleep to clean you up, even if you hadn’t mind the mess. And like always, he never forgot to end his night with a kiss, pressing a chaste yet breathless pant to your lips.

“Think your way of ‘taking care of me’ needs more time in the workshop , but we’ll talk about it later.” 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[loumauve]

LOOK.

I know those are vastly different vibes, but I'm a multi shipper and the universe is infinite and chaotic and I'm very gay, and sometimes you crave a different flavour than what you usually read, so you simply must brave the wilds sometimes (or in this case the mostly protected Embrace aka awesome writers' fic in other fandoms/ships because you can at least depend on them writing something really good).

Untalla/Silga - best cuties forever. I love them. Would hold them gently in my arms now that they get along. (also THEM. I mean come on, somewhat enemies to hesitant allies to 'oh.' I just think they're neat, and I love me a good side character that nobody really talks abt, even more so when it's two of them. together. being fucking precious)

Imogen/Dancer - hot as hell, love that for me them. I just think sometimes Imogen could use some unwinding and getting rid of some pent up energy, and they certainly achieved that. (plus the storm imagery really got to me. love me a good storm. also, I just think Dancer is such a fun character)

wish I could make myself read the Tilda stories bc I'm sure it's just as well-written as the rest of your fic, but I hate her to much, rip. she hurt my bb Beta and that's an unforgivable crime. (yes. Otohan definitely hurt my other bb Laudna, and Imogen in the process, too, but at least I still haven't watched those episodes in their entirety so I can just insert your headcanons and look beyond my ignorance and hatred lol)

as for Imogen/Otohan. I know you said not to look, but this is literally the first post about them that came across my dash, not even sure how, probably through the For You section.. so I would like to apologize in tumblr's name for breaching the containment.

also, I spent the largest portion of today trying to figure out where I read it so I could point at it and blame you. anyway, I've now read at least five other stories in the process before I found that one again, so now you are entirely responsible. well, you and Shamie with her amazing art, but that's pretty much a given. we love Shamie here <3

so yeah, I love when characters help heal each other, but sometimes you just want to see them make each other worse. duality of man etc etc

they're hot together, they hurt my brain to think about, but it seems a small price to pay for some really great reading. so, fuck you (affectionate) for making me actually like Otohan (my beloathed) a little bit, or a little more than that, okay maybe they're growing on me, gdi. the exposure is slowly but surely getting to me. but hey, messy, emotionally wrecked Imogen is a delight sometimes. I sure hope she'll get some hugs and therapy down the line.

once again, thank you for blessing us all with your writing, I sure am enjoying reading it.

#i like to think this is me writing otohan for some folks lol (it is. I need you to know that. Otohan my beloathed, but I'll read it from you bc I know it'll be amazing. still physically hurts me tho lol and I take a little irreversible brain damage if I enjoy it even just a little. my brain is gone now. thank you for the privilege of being felled by your blade)

Context for folks who want it.

ANYWAY

Lou I mostly remember you liking my Silga and Untalla stuff?? I'm so sorry I dragged you into my Otohan obsession??? The VIBES are totally opposite?! With that said, I'm fucking honored, thank you so much

[mysteryshoptls]

NRC Master Chef Finale

"There is no end to the culinary road"

I don't normally take requests for chapters from events, but I liked the descriptions of the students that I was planning on doing this outtro anyway. Please enjoy.

[Kitchen]

Head Chef: Right. That finishes up the prep work we need for tomorrow.

Crowley: Good evening!

Head Chef: Oh hello, Headmage. What can I do for you so late at night?

Crowley: Well, currently the Master Chef course is ongoing, is it not?

Crowley: I thought I would ask how the students taking the class are faring.

Head Chef: The students? Hmm, well…

[shows Silver, Deuce, Ruggie, Epel, and Jack]

Head Chef: Some do the best they can, even if they had a hard time learning.

[shows Ace, Idia, Leona]

Head Chef: Some are coachable, since they try to find ways to make it easier on themselves.

[shows Trey, Jamil, Floyd]

Head Chef: Some already have highly impressive cooking skills.

[shows Malleus, Cater, Vil, Ortho]

Head Chef: Some are still unaccustomed to cooking, but have a certain spark.

[shows Kalim, Lilia, Jade]

Head Chef: Some go beyond what the recipe says and creates their own spin on the dish.

[shows Riddle, Rook, Sebek, Azul]

Head Chef: Some read into every last detail of the recipe to reproduce it as faithfully as they possibly can.

Head Chef: …There are many different types of students, just off the top of my head.

Crowley: I see…

Crowley: Well, in truth, I have received many complaints from the students and professors that we've had as judges saying things like, "This isn't edible at all!"

Crowley: I was wonder what could possibly be going on… But it seems as though this course brings forward very individualistic personalities.

Crowley: Ah, that being said, of course we've also received compliments as well!

Crowley: I especially find that we don't receive as many complaints in the latter half of the course. Perhaps it shows how much the students have improved.

Crowley: And of course, all of this is thanks to our splendid chefs.

Head Chef: No, not at all.

Head Chef: It's thanks to the hard work of the students who have been taking this Master Chef course that everyone else is happy.

Crowley: Is that right! Fufufu, well, I should have expected such excellence from those attending this academy.

Crowley: I'm sure this means that the students who took this Master Chef course all came to understand just how important food is.

Crowley: One day, when they've become great mages, there can be no doubt that they will look back on this course and be eternally grateful.

Crowley: Please keep up the good work for tomorrow as well.

Head Chef: Of course! We'll make sure that everyone at Night Raven College knows just how fun and worthwhile cooking can be.

Crowley: ...Sooo… By the way, I'm feeling a little peckish, would there be anything that I could have as a midnight snack…?

Head Chef: Is that the real reason you came down to the cafeteria!? Hmph, and here I was astonished that you actually were asking me something so profound at first!

Crowley: NOT AT ALL! BUT EVEN IF IT WERE, IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT YOUR FOOD IS SO DELICIOUS!!

Head Chef: Well, I suppose, then… Heheh. Cooking can be hard work, but…

Head Chef: Whenever I can see people happily eating something I've made, it quickly revitalizes me.

[The Master Chef intro movie plays, except it is Crowley speaking]

Crowley: "Food," the very foundation of life.

Crowley: Clear oceans, majestic mountains, tender earth.

Crowley: Accept everything nature provides, and use it to nourish yourself.

Crowley: If you so will it, knowledge and valor will be bestowed upon you.

Crowley: Move forward! Never look back! The culinary road is foreboding and grueling.

Crowley: However, when you finally reach the summit, it will all be yours to claim.

Crowley: The crowning achievement―

Crowley: THE GLORIOUS TITLE OF MASTER CHEF!

Crowley: There is no end to the culinary road…

Crowley: Continue to do your best next time, as well. I'll be cheering you on!

Requested by Anonymous.

[dandyleyen]

Dungeon Meshi - My Thoughts (Ch1-10)

Each section gets written out as I am reading. Keep in mind that I have finished episodes 1-12 of Cooking in Dungeon and that I have read chapters 27-31 (excluding 28.5)

Chapter 1.

I assume we’ll get info in this later on but I wonder why the country was sealed away in the first place.

“I bestow my entire kingdom upon the one who defeats the magician." - The King (presumably) I know that the anime does get into this a bit more as we go on and that a new king (or queen ?) would be crowned eventually but I wonder why it is that the king (if he is who he says he is) wants to allow his kingdom to be given away. Curious.

Side note, but I adore Laios talking about the dungeon ecosystem and food chain. Would love to seen an in-depth trophic web with different ecosystems of the dungeon. You could also include the factors that aren’t natural to the ecosystem, so like,,, the various races that go into the dungeon and how they effect the environment around them with adventuring and other things. I wonder if there are any concept maps made already for this type of thing. We’re seeing a basic food chain but I want it in depth !!

Laios is very cute, send tweet !

Chapter 2.

I do find it very sweet that Laios is asking Marcille if she wants anything specific to eat.

Laios is such a little weirdo. God, I love him. This was also the first occasion of me wanting to try one of the foods they made. The tart looks really good and I'm currently regretting reading this before dinner :|

Chapter 3.

I had it in my mind that chimeras were like a very specific animal combo, but hearing Laios calling the basilisk a chimera put that into perspective for me. Like,, yeah no that makes sense. Interesting.

Chapter 4.

Marcille and Falin on the front page :( Guys.

The episode for this was a rough watch for me because of how Marcille was getting treated tbh, and it's similar now while reading but I did feel more with the show. I get the concerns that the party has, because they need to hurry (mind you, Laios literally holds them up down the line with the painting stuff in the other level), but implying she is already being a bit of a burden by saying she'll be "more of a burden" if she collapses is,,,, not Chilchuck's best moment.

"Not being useful to anyone makes me feel so lonely..." - Marcille I liked her already leading up to this but this was one of this things that got me to latch onto her so quickly. I do appreciate that Chilchuck did initially go to apologize for having called her a burden, and that Laios pointed out that everyone was useful in the team but with different strengths. Them :(

Chapter 5.

Chilchuck fighting for his life and trying not to get his shit rocked by the traps going off is incredibly funny and I feel for him. My neurotic little guy,,, love him.

Laios wanting to take the bones home is incredibly endearing. Me too, buddy, me too.

Chapter 6.

Touden siblings flashback !! I care about them so much, you guys.

Laios looks so dejected about not being able to eat living armor,,, what a freak /pos. He isn't wrong though, if you can beat it you can probably also eat it.

Chapter 7.

MARCILLE WEARING THE ARMOR IN THE FRONT PAGE ??? Oh my god . Christ. Not even a warning ? God. Oh my god. I'm kicking my feet and giggling, y'all she is so,, . Christ.

Love that Laios got to discover something that likely no one else knew about just because he was soo hell-bent on eating different monsters.

Downside: I couldn't rock with the meal in this chapter. Too... mollusk-y. Mollusks freak me out.

Chapter 7.5.

Ohhh this is everything to me. Monster biology !! We get to learn more about how monsters are seen and spoken about in-universe. I adore this. I can't remember if the anime shows any of this section, but I think it's an incredibly fun part of the world-building. It makes it feel real.

Chapter 8.

This is incredibly nitpicky but it's a little annoying when people use "symbiotic relationship" to ONLY mean a beneficial relationship on both ends. Chilchuck asks if the vegetables act as parasites to the golems and Senshi says that it's the opposite and then proceeds to call it a symbiotic relationship because they help one another. He's not entirely wrong, but symbiotic relationships include parasitism ! Mutualism (the relationship between the golems and the vegetables), commensalism, parasitism, and competition are all symbiotic relationships. Again, incredibly nitpicky but this always bothers me.

"It's a crime to tamper with magical creatures without permission" - Marcille Girl,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, don't even talk about crimes rn when you know damn well what you're getting up to in your free time*

On another note, I love how we learn more about Senshi's motivations in staying down there and all he does to protect the ecosystem functions.

Chapter 9.

One of the first signs, to my knowledge, that the dungeon is acting strange. The red dragon itself (himself ? herself ? theirself ?) is acting a bit strangely ! We learn earlier on that red dragons aren't very mobile and the characters assume (hope, really) it would be resting after such activity, but here we learn that it's on the move and showing up closer to the orcs. The orcs have pretty much been here the longest and even they see that as odd. Makes you wonder.

The baby orc ! What a cutie. I love that the kid is the one to suggest they share the meal and that Marcille tries to smooth the situation over. I like how fuzzy the orcs are. It caught me off guard in the anime but the fur is a neat touch.

Laios not really considering the possibility of defeating the mad sorcerer and becoming king. Pretty boys are often allergic to thinking.

ALSO, Laios talking about Falin always gets to me :(

Chapter 10.

Is it even necessary to tell y'all that I immediately latched onto Kabru ? I'm transmasc, ofc I latched onto him. Same with the anime. It was funny to get invested in him only to see him and his party immediately getting their shit rocked.

We're being told again that the dungeon has been acting strangely, which is not new info to us but it does help to build a case for it. Kabru points out that he's been told about the dungeon layout changing day-by-day* and the monsters becoming more aggressive.

Ah. Marcille essentially flash-banging the group (and the bugs) is incredibly relatable. I can't do bugs. I cannot and I will not. I know the meal looks incredibly pretty, but I physically would not be able to consume it knowing that it's just,,, bugs. I don't even eat lobster and shrimp due to how bug-like they are. It's bugs !

---- *Asterisks-marked comments are marked because they are points I know that become relevant down the line because I've either seen it already or read about it already. I will wait to get there in the chronology to speak more on it, but this is my way to point out some foreshadowing that I am aware of.

[ch4rryc0smos]

REVERIE | 20

I KISSED YOU UNDER THE STARS!

synopsis ┊kenji sato returns to japan, leaving behind everything he's ever known. and fate plays a cruel joke on him, when hazel vellichor walks back into his life, albeit not by choice. she makes a trip to japan, for a charity event, for another speech, and somehow; media wrangles her in for more drama. what they don't know is that she's ultrawoman, and kenji's ultraman, and there's more than to the eye here. they're well intertwined and every time they tug away, the knot gets tighter. everything leads them to each other, and now japan is in their hands, and they have to unravel every secret they refused to acknowledge prior to this. and they have to accept every role bestowed upon them, whether they like it or not. somehow, all of this leads to is them learning that there was always more to their friendship, and that they were truly two puzzle pieces, fit right next to each other.

genre ┊ childhood-friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, slight angst, tooth rotting & chaotic fluff, co-parenting (?)

pairing ┊ken sato x fem-self insert/oc, ken sato x public figure!self insert, ken sato x childhood-friend!self insert

warnings ┊ mild cursing, mentions of drinking, trauma, heavy topics (?), events in ultraman: rising take place alongside this story.

word count ┊1.4k

author's note ┊this is actually reverie's last part. i'm just a bit emotional because i've finished it. i finished it a while ago, but posting it made me feel like it was still being continued. but it's over. this is the epilogue, and it's reverie's end, but kenzel aren't going anywhere, i think i'll participate in selfshiptober, so if that happens, you'll most probably be getting many oneshots, some including them <3 happy reading.

prev.

Ken can’t stop looking at Hazel. Who he intends to marry. Or propose to, at least. She’s smiling at him. She’s wearing her floral print dress as they bask in the sun, hands working to weave together flower crowns. Ken’s eyes aren’t focused on the flowers, rather on the way her lips form a light pout and her eyes don’t stray anywhere but to the stems she works to weave. A smile is playing on his lips, and he’s so lost in her concentration, he doesn’t even realise she’s done until she turns towards him, and their eyes meet.

Something about the fact that she doesn’t know what’s going on his mind, and the fact that his heart beats faster when she smiles. And then she holds his hand, intertwines their fingers, and tugs his face closer. Then there’s some rustling, and when he reaches up, he feels the fuzzy feeling of flower petals. Hazel leans closer, and presses a feather light kiss onto his forehead. He latches his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

Her soft gasp of surprise is muffled against his chest. And he chuckles. Her hair tickles his neck, but he weaves his hand through it. She leans into his touch, and he places a kiss on the top of her head. One of her hands finds its place onto his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

Ken curses himself for letting his heart rate increase. He thinks he might be blushing and closes his eyes.

“Are you flustered, Kenji?” Hazel asks, and she sounds like she might be laughing. He looks down at her, and the smile on her face makes his heart flutter. Hazel’s grinning. Ken leans down, he can’t help but capture her lips in a kiss. She leans up, and then it’s her hands in his hair and he’s pulling her by the waist, even closer. And she’s practically on his lap. 

He doesn’t end up answering her question, but with the way she’s blushing, and the way she’s panting, he doesn’t think she wants the answer anyway. He stands up, holding her up. And she holds onto his shoulders for support.

“Put me down!” she says, hitting his shoulder lightly, and he just laughs instead. He’s carrying her somewhere and despite every protest, he continues. At some point, she does make a valid point that he doesn’t know the U.K well enough, but he doesn’t care. He’s listened to everything she’s said, about her childhood here, and if he can create positive connections to everything that’s affected her here, negatively. He wants to. 

He intends to, today. 

The simple thought of it makes him want to laugh out loud, with joy, at the aspect of finally being able to devote himself to her. He always could, yes, but he didn’t realise it until she walked out of his life the second time, and now he promises that he’ll be what she needs. 

At some point, he finally places her on the ground, and now they’re not in a meadow anymore, they’re at the garden that Hazel said she’d been last before she left the U.K. How that was the last time before she started travelling and speaking, she thought of her childhood. 

How adulthood kind of started right here. 

She turns around to Ken, and it’s like eighteen washes over her, again. But it doesn’t feel scary, how it did then. Instead of frowning, or crying, she’s smiling at him. At the fact that he remembered. She’s a bit confused when he asks her to turn away, to close her eyes.

“May I know why?” she asks.

She’s so polite he almost just wants to tell her, but he laughs. “No, darling. Just trust me, okay?”

She nods, turning around. Ken sighs shakily, getting onto one knee over the stone pathway, a bit worn with age. He pulls out the box, eyes the velvet cover as he opens it. He smiles at the moss agate ring that sits in the plump cushion. He holds it up. Smiles at the back of Hazel’s head as she waits patiently.

“Turn around, my love.” Ken’s heart might just fall out of his chest as he says those words, and it doesn’t get any better when Hazel turns around, and she’s smiling softly but then her eyes widen, and she claps a hand over her mouth.

She thinks she might cry. She doesn’t even know if she’s smiling anymore, but she’s happy. So happy, she can’t even think right. She doesn’t know if she’s understanding this correctly but he holds up the ring, moss agate, but as he’s saying it, like her eyes. She drops to her knees, clutching onto him, wrapping her arms around him, gripping onto his shirt with dear life. He falls on his ass, but he holds her. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, his cologne faint now but the scent of nature lingering on his skin.

Flower petals fall around them, scattered scarcely as they drop from her flower crown, and from in between his curls and the crevices of her dress, but she’s still clinging onto him for dear life.

“I promised I would be all yours, and I promise now that I’ll stand by you, for as long as you’ll let me,” he says, and she can’t think he’d ever practise this, because it feels like those words that you say when you’ve spent too long in your room and the dust is visible in the ray of sunlight and your eyes meet as you’re messing with something on the wrinkled bed sheets, duvet thrown across the bed. 

Those ‘I love you’s that transcend written and practised speech, those words that aren’t meant to hold so much value, but weigh more than a heart that grieves. 

“If you’ll let me,” he continues.

She thinks he’s outrageous.

“I’m yours, Kenji. As long as time allows me, I’ll be yours,” she whispers against the crook of his neck, and her heartbeat is loud against the quiet breeze that catches her hair. 

“You’re mine?”

“All yours.”

“Then, say yes,” he murmurs against her hair.

“Yes, yes, yes. As many times as you need me to say it, yes!” her voice is growing in volume, and he cups her face in his hands, making her look up.

Emerald and amethyst, meet once again. The books have lost count of all the gazes they’ve shared, and writers couldn’t use a million words to describe a single second of what they felt when their eyes met. How that feeling stayed the same, and never got old.

How when he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles, her heart fluttered, how it has for a while now. Then the ring appears in her vision, and he slides it on.

It fits her finger perfectly. And the stone is the colour that her eyes are. 

He doesn’t resist when she crashes her lips against his, noses pressed together, breaths merged. Bodies pressed so close, considering them two would be a joke. 

“You’re my wife now.” 

He sounds elated, and he’s grinning, even while he’s panting and his chest is rising and falling rather quickly. His hands are in her hair, and he’s tucking the stray strands behind her ear. 

She runs her fingers down his face, his jaw, and he leans into her touch, turning his face to place light kisses against her fingertips. 

She hesitates.

“Promise, I’ll stay.”

Those words become a part of his wedding vows. She doesn’t know that just yet, but knows that even if they didn’t, it was a promise that would linger in the mornings he spends in her arms, and the alarms he misses to watch her sleep, or the breakfast he tries to make and shows up to the bedroom with his clothes stained and a little clip holding up his hair. 

He loves the way she laughs when he does these things.

And he vows to be the reason they happen, and to give her that simple sort of happiness for as long as life allows him to. He says that in his wedding vows too. And he’s never been a romantic, but for her? Always.

She is a reverie, and she is his. He didn’t know devotion, until he met her, again. And now all of his was for her. For his reverie. His daydream. And his anchor in life.

And everything she is, is a part of him. Two halves of one. That’s what they were. 

It’s always been like that. They just didn’t know all those years ago. Now they do, and they wouldn’t trade it for the world, they say.

They know they wouldn’t, when their eyes meet, after the tears clear up, they know that they would find each other, every time. Somehow. Some way. Every, time.

THE END.

— H. 

ch4rryc0smos © 2024 … do not repost, alter, translate, or steal my work.

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie x F!Reader — I’d just really like to read how Eddie would react if reader joins him in the upside down to perform Master of Puppets. She would be a little delayed because he had demanded her to not go back through the gate with him, and after sneaking through, knowing their plan, she had managed to, with struggle, drag her drum kit piece by piece on the rooftop (she lives like 5 trailers down from Eddie) to join him (probably around “come crawling faster, obey your master” or second verse) and Dustin turns in surprise as her bass literally vibrates under his feet, and tentacles start oozing and slithering around her trailer for the source of the disturbance. She has NO protection up there, and teetering on being louder and more of a target than Eddie.

This is really sad and dark, so if that's not your thing, I apologize.

Warnings: death, blood, language, events of S4 V2 occur

WC: 1.8k

--

“Look at us,” Eddie tells Steve, glancing at you and Dustin with a somber smile, “we are not heroes.”

Not heroes.

You’d spent the last 48 hours chasing down an anthropomorphic villain in an otherworldly dimension, and Eddie Munson had the audacity to say you weren’t a hero.

You’re unsure why his statement bothers you, why anything he says affects you at all. It was a twist of fate–bad luck, even–that you’d been ravaging around Rick’s abandoned boathouse when Eddie darted in, desperate for a place to hide. 

“Fuck, didn’t think anyone would be here,” he’d panted, wiping his sweaty forehead on his leather jacket-clad arms.

“Me, either,” you’d admitted, pocketing a thin silver chain that Rick had left behind. It could be junk, but it was worth a shot. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

He’d cocked his head, eyeing you in a way that made you feel recognized, not unnerved. “I feel like I’ve seen you around before,” he’d said. “You go to Hawkins High?”

“I did; graduated back in ‘84.” It was your crown achievement, being the first person in your family to finish high school. “I, uh, wanted to go to college, but it was too expensive. All my money goes to keeping me and my mom in our shitty trailer.”

Eddie snapped his fingers excitedly, a smile spreading across his pinked cheeks. “You live in Forest Hills!” he’d exclaimed loudly, then caught himself. “Are you the girl who plays drums?”

You gave a small laugh, holding your hands up in surrender. “Guilty as charged,” you’d conceded. “Sorry if it’s annoying; ‘s like my only outlet in this boring town.”

“Annoying?” Eddie gawped, crossing his arms over his chest, “you’re so good! Plus, it keeps me from being the only one bothering the neighbors with my loud-ass music.”

And then it clicked. “You’re Guitar Guy!” you’d blurted out, accidentally using the nickname you’d secretly bestowed upon him. “I mean…you’re the guy who plays guitar…”

“You can call me Eddie; although Guitar Guy sounds pretty metal, too.”

Somehow, that chance encounter had led you here, to a place called the Upside Down, bonded with a ragtag gang of Hawkins misfits.

While Max, Lucas, and Erica are luring Vecna to the real Creel attic, Steve, Robin, and Nancy will creep into the Upside Down version and destroy his body. You, Eddie, and Dustin have to secure the Munson trailer and set up speakers so Eddie could distract the demobats. That’s all.

But you have other plans.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Dustin in a hushed whisper while Eddie is fawning over his alternate dimension guitar. You dash out of the door, making your way to your own trailer–well, the Upside Down version of it, anyway.

“Wh-wha?” you hear Dustin stammering. “Dude, your girlfriend just ditched us!” He must be speaking to Eddie, though you can’t bring yourself to stick around and hear his response. No, you’re technically not his girlfriend; not his anything, really, but it would still be painful to hear the confirmation. Besides, you have a mission to complete.

You yank off the thin cloth covering your drumset. Slimy vines lay at the base, but have not yet wrapped around the kit itself. You breathe a sigh of relief for small miracles as you shove the drumsticks into your back pocket.

There’s no question what song Eddie will play; all you’ve heard the last week is Metallica’s Master of Puppets blaring from his side of the trailer park. The beat was imprinted in your head, which would now come in handy.

Piece by piece, you drag the bass, then the snare, and finally the cymbals outside. Now the real struggle remained: how to hoist them atop your trailer roof. It would be much easier if the guys could help you, but they’d only try to stop you if they knew. You mimic the makeshift entry to the Upside Down by tying your bedsheets around each part of the set, climbing to the roof and pulling them up. The sound of Eddie’s guitar reverberates through the park, still louder than the screeching bats in the distance.

“C’mon, pull yourself together” you mutter, hands shaking with fear. You hadn’t practiced the song much, insecure about the mysterious Guitar Guy knowing that you’d been listening to him play. It seemed so silly now; worrying about something so benign when there were terrifying things luring beneath the surface.

Eddie’s fingers fly over the strings, his face scrunched in concentration. Neither he nor Dustin have noticed you, and you’d like to keep it that way as long as possible. 

Two, three, four, you count yourself in, right as Eddie gets to the “Come crawling faster/Obey your master” part. You start softly, but the adrenaline kicks in and you soon find yourself playing as though your life depends on it–which, in this case, it might.

Dustin is the first to notice the additional noise. He audibly gasps when his binoculars land on you. “Eddie!” he cries out, desperate for the man’s attention. “Look!” Eddie’s gaze follows Dustin’s pointing finger.

“What the fuck?” he shouts, but he doesn’t stop playing. “She’s gonna get herself killed!” He glances up at the sky at the swarm of bats, headed towards the trailers.

Eddie turns to the curly-haired boy kneeling at his speakers and shouts as loudly as he can. “Turn it louder!” 

Dustin fiddles with the knob. “It doesn’t go any louder!” he yells back. He puts the binoculars back to his eyes. “T-minus thirty!” he announces, holding up three fingers on one hand and making a 0 with the other. 

Eddie acknowledges this with a nod. There’s a pit in his stomach when he realizes that you’re unaware of the countdown to impending doom. 

“T-minus twenty!” Dustin waves his arms frantically to get your attention, but you’re engrossed in the music. The bat shrieks get louder as they zigzag between the dark clouds. Eddie’s fingers are flying across the guitar, strings digging into the pads of his fingers as he plays as loudly as he can. Dustin gives the ten-second warning, biting his lips nervously.

You and Eddie finish the song simultaneously; he and Dustin waste no time leaping off of the roof. “Y/N, let’s go, let’s go, LET’S GO!” Eddie screams, waving you over. You steady yourself as you jump off your own roof, but unlike the boys, you land awkwardly and feel your right ankle give out underneath you.   

“Fuck!” you hiss. You try to walk on it, but you just stumble to the ground. “Eddie! Dustin! HELP!” You’re shouting into the void; both of them are already at the rope.

“Where is she?” Eddie mutters as he holds the rope steady for Dustin. “Henderson, she’s not here yet!”

“She’ll be here,” Dustin reassures his friend as he flings himself into the real Hawkins. “She was a few trailers behind us, remember?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, no, it’s been too long. She should’ve gotten here by now.” He swivels around at the sound of your voice begging for help. “I gotta go.” Ignoring Dustin’s protests, Eddie grabs his makeshift shield and runs as fast as he can. His heart pounds against his chest as his boots hit the ground, thudding across the damp grass. Your ear-piercing scream makes his blood run cold, and he sprints faster.

But the worst part isn’t your scream. It’s the silence that follows.

Eddie gets to your side just as the demobats fall down, crashing onto the dirt clumsily. They look so unassuming and docile, a stark contrast from their ferociousness just moments ago. His eyes immediately land on your torso, marred and bloodied.

“Oh, no,” he murmurs as he kneels down, hands turning sticky and crimson as soon as he touches you. “No, no, no. Y/N…Y/N, you gotta stay with me.”

“Eddie,” you croak, choking out your words. “Is it bad?”

“‘S gonna be fine, sweetheart.” His voice is brave, but the fear in his eyes give him away. He removes the black bandana from his head and wraps it around your ribs in an attempt at a tourniquet. You grimace at the pressure against your open wounds. “What were you thinking?”

“W-wanted to b-be a hero,” you stutter, offering him as much of a smile as you can. You can feel the blood trickle from your lips and down your chin. “Th-this is g-gonna be your y-year, right?”

His heart sinks. Huddled in the boathouse together, you two had quickly begun trading stories. He told you about how his parents split when he was nine, leaving Wayne as his guardian; you confided that your mom had no clue who your dad even was. When you’d mentioned wanting to pursue a career in nursing, but not being able to pay for courses, he’d confessed that he was on his third go-around at senior year.

“But this’ll be it,” he’d stated confidently, hunched over in the lifeboat. “It’s my year, baby. ‘86!”

“Yeah,” he smiles forlornly back at you. “Yeah, it is. But I want you to be here, too.” 

You reach a hand out to his tear-stained cheek, using what little energy you have to rub your thumb over it. “How d’you l-look so cute even when you’re c-crying?” Your laugh is cut short by a choking fit.

“Save your strength, darlin’.” he tells you, but he knows that you’re far too injured for his advice to matter.

Dustin runs over now, taking one look at the situation and groaning. 

“Eddie, is she–”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Eddie interrupts, a pointed look on his face telling the boy to be quiet. “You’re gonna be fine, okay?” he says, turning to you.

“Mhm,” you manage, “just gonna rest for a sec…” Eddie and Dustin watch as a stillness creeps over your body, and you take your final breath. They stand there for a few minutes, unable to move.

Dustin is the one to break the silence. “C’mon, Eddie,” he pulls gently on his friend’s sleeve. “We gotta get going, get ready for the next phase.”

“Just a second.” Eddie unlatches the guitar pick chain  from around his neck and puts it on yours. He presses on his knees as he stands up, admiring your beauty even in death.

The two of them slowly walk back to the trailer, side by side. Eddie swings an arm around Dustin, pulling him in close.

“I think I loved her, dude,” he whispers, expecting Dustin to roll his eyes or tease him, but the boy just gives him a hug.

“I think she loved you, too,” he replies softly, “actually, I know she did.”

Eddie turns back to take one last look at the realm that claimed the girl of his dreams before ascending the rope.

“Gonna make ‘86 my year, baby. Just for you.”

--

[badlydrawnarsenelupin]

what kind of hanfu would you envision lupin wearing :3c

// Hello anon, first of all: thanks for sending something so catered specifically towards me (designing useless alternative outfits for my blorbos). Second, I just want you to know that this was one of the most redraw-heavy, hair-pulling, triple-digit-layers experiences you've sent me on. Also lots of reading and research, which I am now going to make you read.

There's a lot of different styles of hanfu depending on the eras, the three main, popular styles these days are from the Tang, Song and Ming dynasties. There's more but you don't need to know about them here lol.

The ones I've drawn here aren't like.... super historically accurate but more of a mix of modern hanfu + Lupin-vibes for the✨aesthetics.✨

This is called Feiyu-fu/飞鱼服 from the Ming dynasty, which translates to 'flying-fish uniform' for its depiction of the Feiyu/飞鱼 in the embroidery. It's not actually a fish but a dragon-like creature, with wings and a fish-shaped tail (guess why it's called flying-fish lol). It's one of the more popular types you see in modern hanfu because it's just really elaborate and cool looking.

Speaking of elaborate, here's a closer look at my suffering!

Historically, Feiyu-fu was one of the type of clothing to be bestowed upon people by the emperor. There's like different tiers depending on the embroidery, the dragon or the Long/龙 is like exclusively for the emperor and then following that in order of tier are: Mang/蟒, Feiyu/飞鱼, Douniu/斗牛, Qilin/麒麟 etc. Those guys, unlike the Long has 4 or less claws instead of 5. If it's confusing, don't worry about it, they're basically different types of mythical "dragon-like" creatures.

There's a whole culture of gifting these specially embroidered clothes (from the imperial court to court officials, nobles, foreign royalty etc.) and it's pretty prestigious to get one. I found it fitting for Lupin since:

it's very lavish and opulent, also high-status

seems very much like the type of thing Lupin would somehow get his little thief hands on✨

unrelated but the two white stripes down the front on aren't a thing, I made it up for style + to add the lupine flowers on it (although they kind of look like wheat??? I tried my best ok)

Okok so fun fact, later in the Ming period, the Feiyu started to not be depicted with wings for some reason, and it became really really hard to differentiate it from the Mang, so some people just started wearing their Feiyu as a Mang... because it's a higher tier and second only to the emperor's Long-clothings. I just think that's funny and it reminds me of Lupin lmao.

Here's a more casual style with the Feiyu-yesa/曳撒 robes + a zhaojia/罩甲 on top!

So the flower here on the zhaojia is the plum blossom, or meihua. It's known as one of the four "gentleman-ly" flowers along with, orchid, bamboo and chrysanthemum (梅兰竹菊).

I thought the gentleman-ly theme was fitting for Lupin... although the four flowers' symbolism is more for strictly pure, noble and righteous characters.... That's ok, it's how Lupin thinks of himself anyways psh

Close-ups for the long-hair enjoyers. The little thing he's wearing is called fa-guan/发冠, it's basically a little crown-like thing that's used to hold up hair, sometimes coupled with a cloth/ribbon. The version on the right is a style very commonly seen in cdramas these days but it's historically-inaccurate... it looks cool though lol.

More details! These are called hebao/荷包 and they're basically little pouches to store things in, like money or handkerchiefs. They can also be used to carry fragrant herbs/perfume. They can also gifted from young women to men they like :^))))

For alternative hanfu styles, I think something like the modern Tang dynasty-inspired hanfu would fit Lupin as well... they're more flowy and with larger sleeves that you can hide stuff in... They look best in motion! An example from those videos of skateboarding hanfu guys.

Alright that's finally done! I'm going to go and pass out for the next 10 hours _(┐ 「ε:)_

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Hey guys - me and Nyota (the lovely @labaguetteisdabest) decided we would post chapters of SCH weekly on here so you guys can read it! Each chapter alternates between the two MCs’ perspectives, but this one is from our character Apex's perspective. You can find the masterlist here

Warning(s) : Mentions of self-burning (not on purpose), enemies to lovers, fantasy + royal universe, both MCs are cisgender females, and gay. Homophobes stay away!!

Pairing(s): Kaeda x Apex (Kaepex)

“Miss Ape- Adrienne!”

“What is it?” I say, glancing in the mirror before me. Just my luck that I have some dumb appearance to make before I finally get to go home.

I adjust the dark red hair that covers the right side of my disfigured face. My fingers trace the edge of the scar that stretches across, and I shudder. Even after having it for nine years now, it never got more normal.

Perfect, I think. You could barely see my right eye.

My chambermaid, Eudora, waves a hand in front of my face.

“You realize that you need to practice your Reya more, yes?” she questions.

“Yes, I know,” I grumble. “And I need to practice my thermodynamic vision.”

“Stop taking your Reya for granted,” Eudora chides. “Your own brother rejected his and look how he’s turned out.”

A man who has nothing to worry about.

My voice lowers to a mumble. “And I’m starting to wonder if he made the right choice.”

Reyas are only granted to lucky children, each from a different patron god, which depended on your kingdom. Fujimura, my kingdom, has the patron goddess Vohona, the goddess of fire. Which I find mildly ironic, as Fujimura means “wisteria village.” 

At this rate, I feel like I would’ve been better off rejecting my Reya. But after my brother – Daxton's – rejection, my parents (Queen Fiamma and King Adish Pyracent) were desperate. And my little brother, Covyn, was only one year old at the time- and according to my parents, another 5-year wait was far too long.

“Adrienne. The faster you get through this, the faster you get home. Your family back in Dodomi eagerly awaits you, I’m sure,” Eudora reminds me. I hate that she’s right.

I make the mistake of looking back at her. Her dark curls spill across her shoulders, and warm brown eyes stand out on her pale face. The bright red flower she keeps tucked behind her right ear falls a little bit, and I want to reach out and fix it. But she would find that weird because she’s not like me.

Eudora pushes her thin, round glasses back a bit and notices me staring at her.... I feel my cheeks warm, and to get out of the awkwardness, I abruptly stand up.

“I should, uh, probably head out to the training grounds for a few more minutes,” I blurt out and dash out of the room. 

I walk outside into the bright sunshine, and even though I'm wearing a black turtleneck, I feel comfortable at this temperature. 

The orientation of each element’s training area changes daily, so I scan my surroundings, activating my thermodynamic vision. The reds, greens, and blues that replace all other colors are comforting. My eyes are immediately drawn to the deep blues of the ice training area, and lo and behold, there she is.

Kaeda Cynet.

Her and her stupidly shimmering dark hair and her dumb ice-pale skin and sharp eyes.

I can’t stop looking.

Kaeda is the crown princess of Khaenpanii, Fujimura’s rival kingdom. My rival in our quest to become the Syla of our generation.

Power. Strength. Royalty.

The title of Syla bestows a great honor upon you and your kingdom. 

And Kaeda’s stupid kingdom keeps stealing the chance away from any other!

Generation after generation, almost every single Syla has come from Khaenpanii. It’s absolutely outrageous. I can remember maybe twice when Fujimura held the title.

I snap myself out of my rant when I finally spot the small flames of the candles I’m well accustomed to training with. Jogging over to them, I switch back to regular vision, taking a moment to adjust to the onslaught of color.

The candles.

The small flame atop them.

It's disappointing, really, that they’re all I’ve been able to train with for ten years now.

A swish of my finger strengthens a flame. Then another. Then the third.

Feed me. Let the flames engulf you. Feed me. Feed me. FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME-

I take a deep breath, and slowly, the starved calls cease.

A triumphant smirk spreads across my face, and I turn my gaze to Kaeda, hoping to see less success over with her. Alas, she turns the cup of water before her into fragile ice.

My thermodynamic vision tells me that the ice is 32º Fahrenheit, which isn’t nearly as good as a typical day. Unfortunately for her, today is exceptionally warm.

I clear my mind and focus on the heated air surrounding me. Fast-moving molecules, as expected. The flames before me have the same result.

I tell myself I need more practice, but truly, I’m ready. 

Wandering past Kaeda, I flick my index finger, heating the breeze blowing past her ice block. A frown decorates her typically joyful face when she notices it dripping, and she whips her head around. She sees that I’m the culprit and her frown becomes a sour look.

My face remains devoid of emotion. Her grey-blue eyes stare deep into my bright teal ones, and we maintain eye contact for a second too long. I feel my cheeks heat, and hers take on a slightly red tint.

Kaeda looks away from me and says, “What was that for?!”

I simply reply with, “Revenge.”

And I walk away.

When she’s out of my sight, reaching under my red hair, I touch my scar again. Revenge for giving me this thing.

I had been eight years old, practicing my fire control skills. Growing flames was easy but calming them was a different story.

I stared at the flame before me, struggling to keep my mind over the one of the fire. 

Feed me. Feed me. FEED ME FEED ME FEED ME-

This time, I had succumbed to the calls.

The blaze towered before me, and I realized too late that I had set the candle far too close to me. Sparks spewing from the inferno flew onto my face, and to try to protect at least part of my face, I had turned to the left.

By then, the flames had been as tall as me, and the right side of my face exploded in pain. I cried out and focused as much as I could, but to no avail. I couldn’t muster enough focus. It hurt too much.

Why isn’t anyone helping me?

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing for the pain to go away. 

“Make it stop!” I wanted to shriek. It hurt too much for me to even utter a single word.

“Adrienne!” Kaeda’s voice filled the air. I heard the sound of the flames crackling to a stop. “Take your hand off your face.”

I gingerly lifted it, like she instructed.

Kaeda gasped, and I kept my eyes shut. If I opened them, it would hurt so much.

“Please, open your eyes. Can you see?” she asked. 

“It’ll hurt too much. I don’t want to.” My voice was shaky, and I wasn’t about to start crying in front of Kaeda, with her perfect hair and face and perfect everything.

“Please!” she pleaded. I had reluctantly obeyed, and the shock of pain was less startling than I had expected.

When I looked at the crown princess of Khaenpanii, she almost had... tears in her eyes?

Was she worried about me? Her rival?

I watched as she painted a pained smile on her face, telling me thanks without saying a single word. She lifted her right hand and her fingertips turned paler than before, which was saying something. Kaeda flicked her hand towards the burned side of my face, tiny snowflakes flying out.

I grimaced when they hit my face, and Kaeda began spewing apologies when she saw she had made me hurt more.

My voice was even shakier than before when I said, “I don’t care. P-please just go get someone.”

She had nodded and run off.

I can barely remember what happened next.

I remember the vague sensation of hitting the solid concrete floor, and then darkness.

Waking up and feeling... different.

Feeling... changed.

Feeling... angry.

If Kaeda had been smarter, she would have run to get an adult almost immediately. But no. She just had to go and try to fix this problem herself. She may have only been seven, and slightly more advanced at her Reya than me (of course she was; just a Khaenpanii thing, I suppose), but she should have had enough logic to go and find an adult.

I hate when anyone sees me at my worst, too, and I was definitely at my worst then. Kaeda saw a private part of me that I try as hard as I can to keep to myself, and that alone warranted my loathing towards her.

When I surface from my deep thoughts, I find myself in my room. The pale red walls have been my home for the past 10 years, and I can’t imagine leaving them tomorrow.

All children with Reyas should go to a special school, should they not? We all have abilities that are far too dangerous to be taught at a regular school, after all. The kingdom of Minsare has the patron god Elektras. Anyone who has a Reya and comes from there reigns over lightning and wind. These kids are awfully powerful, and they cannot be trusted around regular schools. Fujimura children also aren’t allowed to go to normal school after the Reya ceremony, as we can summon an inferno in the blink of an eye.

Watarumi is the island where the previously mentioned school is located. It’s not located near the schools back on Dodomi, the mainland, and only people that have been verified and have Reyas can travel there. 

For ten years, since I’ve been six, I’ve lived on Watarumi, training every day. I rarely got to visit my family as studies are more important, meaning my little brother, Covyn, has barely seen me. Dax was always hidden away in his room, so I never saw him anyway. But Covyn gets his Reya soon, and I want to be there. Thankfully, I finally leave this isolated island tomorrow, just in time!

Knock knock! 

I glance at the door. What do they want?! I think.

“Princess Adrienne?” Eudora’s soft voice strings into my room. My face immediately reddens, recalling what had happened earlier. “You should start packing for tomorrow now! Remember to take all your stuff. Oh, and, just so you know, your appearance has been cancelled because of weather concerns.”

“Oh- er- yes!” I reply awkwardly. I look out the window and find that she’s right. Huge dark clouds are coming this way, ready for a long, thunderous storm.

Packing. Right.

At least I don’t have to socialize more, I think with a hint of disgust at the mere thought that I would have been forced to do the appearance if not for the weather.

I need to stop rambling and start packing.

[lemonflavouredspatula]

I AM LITERALLY IN TEARS WHAT IS HAPPENING

(really struggling to come up with an eloquent response to this that isn't just a visual representation of me screaming)

someone reading something i've written ONCE is like the biggest compliment but you've gone back and read it again??? more than once??? and know which bits are going to make you cry i'm??? actually losing my mind that you've taken the time to analyse the bits you love about a fic i wrote????????

i'm actually speechless i don't know what to say, honestly i've been reading this over and over for like 2 hours at this point because i honestly cannot believe this is real

"thank you for making the best fic i have ever read" I'M???? like i stayed up till god knows what hour in the morning writing it, i posted it without properly betaing it, i go back and read it now and there are things i would change and yet here you are bestowing the crown of all crowns upon it. i genuinely don't know how to convey just how much this means, like you've taken a chunk of time out of your day to not only re read a fic you'd already read but to then come here and give a full analysis of why you like it?? like that's insane

i still can't believe you go back and re read it, like i genuinely can't believe you liked it so much that you go back and read it again and again even though it is not a happy read, like i put them and us through a lot of pain and yet you like it so much you voluntarily go back and read it??? sorry i know i'm rambling but AHHHHHHHHH

i'm just a funky lil gal who is overly obsessed with her favs and writes for fun, to hear someone saying they liked those little ramblings means the world in and of itself, but to have someone explain why, and then precisely which bits made them feel things is just, i don't know how to describe the utter joy within my heart right now

THANK YOU for taking the time out of your day to comment on this fic in such a beautiful and heartfelt way, i know i've said it a million times at this point but it genuinely means the world to know that the things i write for fun are actually out there being enjoyed (or cried at...) and that someone out there likes it enough to tell the world why

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghosts (TV 2019) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: The Captain/Lieutenant Havers (Ghosts TV 2019) Characters: The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019), Lieutenant Havers (Ghosts TV 2019), Button House Ghosts (Ghosts TV 2019), Alison (Ghosts TV 2019) Additional Tags: cap’s an old romantic at heart, he just needs someone to give that love to, luckily havers is here, Lieutenant Havers’s Name is William (Ghosts TV 2019), the first half of this is really cute, the second half is…not, I’m so sorry, probably inaccurate depictions of war and medical conditions, if it’s any consolation i made myself cry too Summary:

Havers returned after the war, the Captain was waiting.

[girl8890]

JM | Tainted

word count: 2.7k

Summary: The next in line to be throne, Prince Jimin, must decide who it is that will follow him into kingship and be his queen. None of the girls his mother bestows him with interest him at all. He much rather see all their head cuts off--imagining such things as each princess or lords daughter steps into the throne room. It isn’t until you step in, shaking and clutching your skirt as you pray for him not to pick you, that the thoughts of death stop and new thoughts surface. 

Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Princess!Reader

Genre: yandere, royalty!au, historical!au, angst

Rating: V

Warnings: bratty!jm, spoiled!jm, executions, blood, fascination with death, forced marriage, unhealthy obsession, forced kissing, jm touches reader inappropriately once, ripping of clothing, implied forced sex, implied dirty thoughts.

A/N: Just a reminder that this is all fiction! None of this has actually happened, and I don’t believe it will happen or is going on. I also do not condone this behavior. If you don’t like, then just don’t read. Don’t judge others for liking the fic /type of fic or judge those that write similar fics. Your hate does nothing, but give an author the excuse to use the block button. This fic concept has been in my head for awhile, and I was bouncing between putting it with jk, v, or Jm, and in the end I did it for Jm. I have a yandere jk fic coming out soon, so it just made sense for me to write it with Jm after process of elimination and because I don’t see v being all that bratty tbh lol! I hope you enjoy the fic! 💜

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

“Mother! She’s ugly! Why would you even bring her to me if you can see her face looks like that? Do you want ugly grandchildren!”

Nobody moves, or makes a sound as Prince Jimin complains about a lords daughter who’s right in front of him. Every single girl meeting him today was told to smile, and not speak up unless they had a death wish.

“But darling, she’s a high lords daughter. You must at least give her a chance,” The Queen says to his right. Not even blinking an eye when her beyond spoiled son just insulted someone her kingdom finds important for trade. There all too scared to pull our of trades, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

Jimin looks over at the girl in front of him. She has brown hair that looks like it’s been barely washed (in his opinion), and her nose is way to big (again, in his opinion.)

“Next!” Prince Jimin yells with a wave of his hand. The girl walks away, not sighing out in relief until she’s a safe distance away from the prince’s and queens ear shot.

This is how it’s been for the past several days. Women of all titles and ages have been coming in from all points in the country to offer their hand to the crowned prince. He’s next in line to be king, and now that the current king has fallen ill it’s been assumed that the prince will be crowned soon. The king needs a queen, though. And the whole affair has been dreadful to the staff, and now even his mother

Not a single person has peaked Jimin’s fancy. He’s either sent them off the second they walked in the door, or called for their execution! Stating that the girl should be hung for treason, even though she’s done nothing wrong but show up.

In Jimin’s mind, though, some of the girls deserved it for “forgetting their manners.” There’s been three executions since starting this affair a week ago where there’s usually only one once every two weeks. All of them always been called upon from the prince, and because the king and queen spoil their son rotten they don’t care if a villager or low lords daughter dies. As long as they can see that smile on their sons face, their happy.

But with this affair, even the queens getting antsy. She knew from the very beginning that a title, no matter how big, would not just satisfy her son. He sees things, you see. Ever since he was little, he’s had a fascination with death. Starting with when they had to cover up his attempt at murder to a staffs son at age ten. Doctors don’t have the resources or knowledge to diagnosis his disorder yet, so all it takes is one girl he doesn’t see dying to be the one to marry the crowned prince.

Let just say, that’s harder said then done. Girl after girl was announced and each one left faster then the last. Jimin was starting to get antsy too, and when the prince gets antsy he finds his own way for entertainment.

A girl, about fourteen years old and an obvious no from Jimin, walks in. She’s blonde, and Jimin’s smile twitches upward as he imagines blood seeping down it. After the girl gives her introductions, apparently being the youngest princess for a country in bum fuck nowhere, Jimin comments, “I think you should change your hair color to red.”

The queen and head maid glance at each other, knowing where this is most likely going to lead, but as always they let their prince have his treacheries fun.

For the princess, who has no idea what he’s talking about, blinks up at him confused. “I-I’m sorry? Red?”

“Yes! Red! Have you ever thought about it?”

“I must say I haven’t, your majesty.”

Jimin smiles and it’s the cruelest thing the young princess has ever seen. “I could do it for you.”

“My son-“

“All I need is a blade and I’ll cut that skull right open. Then your hair would be nice and red,” Jimin then giggles and the young princess looks horrified.

The queen just sighs and then dismisses the girl. Once the room is cleared, she turns to her one and only son with a small smile. “My son, you do understand this is important, don’t you?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand while he rests his elbow on the throne. “Yes, yes, mother. I know. It’s not my fault they all look prettier dead then alive.”

The queen swallows, ignoring her sons comment. “That maybe true for you, but the kingdom needs an alive queen. Why don’t you at least give this next girl a chance?”

Jimin sighs heavily, and slouches against the throne. Truthfully, he just found this whole charade to be pointless. He’s not going to fall for any of them at “first sight” or any of that whimsical bullshit. But his mother looks haggard. Not that he cares about his mothers health, not at all, but she is the queen of his kingdom and the fact he’s the one giving her this haggard look is not a good thing.

“Fine! I’ll-… try, mother.” He speaks in a hiss, and frowns as he faces the door. The queen then smiles, feeling like she made some progress, and gestures for the guard to bring in the next girl.

Jimin barely paid attention as the announcer said the girls name and title. He found the wall to his left far more interesting. Some princess from another bum fuck nowhere country that probably only helps his country with bread or some shit they really don’t need walks in. It’s all useless. He’s never going to find-

“M-my name is Princess y/n, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” At the sound of her small voice, Jimin turns to look at the girl that’s just entered the room.

She’s clutching at her dresses skirt, making it look anything but presentable and her eyes are landing anywhere but on his own. That’s not what runs the princes speechless, though. It’s that he doesn’t see anything. He doesn’t see your death playing out in front of him, or blood seeping out from your every hole. He’s just sees you.

Your eyes are tearing up already, but it makes Jimin want to coax out those tears and lick them. He wants to stain your pink lips red by biting them, and find out what your heart looks like. This… these things… he’s never felt before.

Maybe wanting to pull out someone’s insides, yes, but never because you’re so beautiful to his eyes that he wants to paint you a controlled red. To keep you alive forget and keep you close to him. It runs him speechless, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. Not even when the head maid corrects you in your speech and posture. “It’s your majesty, princess. And stand up straight! Who taught you how to present yourself in front of royalty?”

“Lucy, shut up,” The prince commands. Both the maid, Lucy, and the queen look at him baffled, but his eyes are still on you. You look up at the prince, surprised when he defends you. Even though he’s deflected the maids command you still stand up straighter, and let go of your skirt. Instead opting to just have two shaking hands clenched at your sides. “Where are you from again, princess?”

Jimin’s voice was so soft, but it still sounded darker then anyones you’ve ever heard before. You answer his question, swallowing thickly when you stutter again. You’ve heard about this prince and what he’s been doing to other girls like you seeking out his hand. You’re only here because it’s your duty as the eldest daughter of your small kingdom to try and marry a high titled man. That doesn’t stop you from praying to the gods for Prince Jimin not to pick you.

But sadly, the gods are not on your side today.

“Perfect! A princess and she lives in a country that’s actually on the maps. You’ll be perfect!”

Your eyes widen, and you stutter out, “E-excuse me?”

Jimin stands from his throne, walking up to you still sporting his demon-like smile. “Your going to be my new queen.”

If it wasn’t for the shock, you would have fainted right there.

———

It’s a custom for the betrothed of the crowned prince to live within the castle a month before the wedding. Everything happened so fast after Jimin decided you would be the one he wanted to spend his entire life with.

He demanded the wedding be as soon as possible, and the best the king and queen of both countries could do is make it three months from the day he picked you. This really scorned the prince. He went out on a rampage and even started declaring the staffs executions and torture.

This is something that started peeking even the publics attention, and their staff went from a castle of two hundred to one hundred within a week. They had no choice but to push the wedding closer, if not to stop the prince’s unjustified tyranny, and so, it’s only been a week since you last saw him. You had one week so say goodbye to your siblings, and had to watch your mother try her best not to cry about her eldest baby being married off to the prince that has been know to be treacherous.

A life where you feel is going to be filled with nothing but fear.

The first day you’re at the kingdom, Jimin didn’t let you out of his sight. He followed you everywhere, and made you stay as close to his being without getting scolded by the chaperones. The chaperones were the worst because Jimin wasn’t allowed to threaten their deaths or tell them to fuck off. They had to be there to ensure purity within the relationship, and all of Jimin’s thoughts were anything but pure.

They just weren’t those thoughts exactly. He imagined biting your lip until it turned red, and scratching at that pale untouched skin of yours until it was marked by him forever. He wanted to taint your very being, and figure out why he never wished for your death.

You stuttered a lot, which was annoying, but anytime you clutched at your dress out of fear when Jimin got to close to you stirred on the other feelings. The other feelings you were grateful the chaperones were there for.

He wanted to fuck you bloody, and fuck your mind up with it to become the perfect wife for him. Whispering the curliest of his imaginations into your ears, and they got worse each day.

A week before your wedding, the prince couldn’t take it anymore. It was past midnight and the chaperones were not around. You were alone in our own separate room, and the prince had the devilish idea to come visit you while you were sleeping.

He woke you up by biting onto your neck, and you screamed bloody murder but it sounded like nothing, but a muffled scream against his hand that was covering your mouth. It got to the point you were crying, and Jimin licked up each of your tears.

“I can’t wait to be able to lay with you, my queen,” He whispered into your ear that night. “You’re just so pretty and I can’t help myself.”

Jimin looks down at your body that is in nothing but a thin nightgown. You clutch at the skirt of it, and it’s on that day you find out that action does nothing but stir him on. He didn’t go all the way with you that night, but the sadistic prince had his way with you nonetheless.

Tickling at your thighs, and no push of your hands could stop him from playing with your sex. It’s wasn’t until you begged, “P-please my love… N-n-not yet. We must be good.”

Your not sure how you came up with the idea, but the second you called him “my love” for the first time he was all ears to your begging. With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, he left you. Not before driving the first kiss of many to your parted lips.

You were too scared to fall asleep that night. Out of fear that he would come back and deny your begging. It wasn’t until a week later, that the begging wouldn’t even matter anymore.

———

After that fiasco, the one that left a significantly big bite mark on your neck, the prince was not allowed to see you until the wedding day. He hated being away from you. Almost scratching out someone’s eyes when they said they were with the soon to be queen before. Jimin kept his distance like a good boy, though. Because after today, no one would tell him he can’t be near you ever again.

The wedding went by smoothly, and no deaths—thank god—happened even while you were being greeted and congratulated by guests. Jimin hated others looking or talking to you. You’re his now, so no one should be allowed to see your beauty except him. He let it go once again, though. Because for once he didn’t want to scare you for what was about to come that night.

Once the wedding came to an end, Jimin practically dragged you to your new shared room. Ordering the staff to bring all your stuff in there the night before. You weren’t ever going to have separate rooms again, and Jimin was going to make sure you knew why.

“Oh my queen, my love, you’re finally here,” Jimin says while giving you a bone crushing embrace. You try to breathe through your nerves, even after he rips the back of your dress in two. Making you gasps from him exposing your smooth back to him in such a way.

He continues to hold you close and stares at the new exposed skin in the mirror behind you. Lightly gliding his fingers up and down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jimin says. It should be a compliment you take as is, but you’ve been around the prince enough by now to know what he’s going to say next. “I can’t wait to see what you look like when you bleed.”

———

The next day, you didn’t leave the bedroom. Not only were you not able to physically move without help, but because Jimin had the whole day off from any meetings and wanted to keep you within arms length. Which he did. Crushing your naked form into his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“You felt so good last night, darling. Did you like it? Did you feel as good as me last night?”

You swallow even though your throats dry from dehydration, and burry your face into the prince’s chest. Not wanting him to see the way your eyes build up with tears.

Last night was a painful affair to say the least, but worst of all from all his markings he left on you he left the worst he could give at the end. The marking he left on your very soul when he taught your body how to like it were far worse then any on your skin.

You shouldn’t have liked it. You should have hated every touch he gave you, but you didn’t. He’s tainted you and now your weeping into his chest as you painfully give him a truthful answer, “Yes… I liked all of it.”

Jimin pets your hair, smiling down at you.

He knows your not weeping onto his chest right now because you hate him. You’re crying because you loved it. If how your bodies reaction from last night said anything at all, he’s slowly tainting the very fibers of your being.

Tainting his new queen until you’re so ruined you start to love him. And he has forever to do so now.

“My queen… we’re going to have so much fun together. I love sososo much.”

You pick your head up from his chest, staring into his smiley eyes as you look him with red eyes. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and feel suddenly a whole lot lighter from his confession.

“Do you really?”

Jimin smirks, placing his hand on your cheek to wipe away a stray tear that’s leaked out of your eyes. “I do. I’ll love you forever, my queen.”

How could a person like him not love a person like you. You pushed the blood filled thoughts away, and instead gave him new thoughts to crave. Ones where he stretched out your pain mixed with pleasure, and wanting to spoil you with it instead of killing you with it.

So yes, the prince loves you. And the prince will love your forever…

As long as he doesn’t imagine killing you first…

-

-

-

The End

[yostresswritinggirl]

The One The Bard Once Loved

NEW Vibe check (appropriate song to cry to while reading)

"The bard, the sprite, the archer. The trio of young dreamers that wish to witness the blue skies past the raging winds that lock their freedom. But those are more than mere dreams, for it requires the sacrifice of those you love, to grace the courage to fight a God. And Barbatos, poor Barbatos, sacrificed more than he wanted."

Pairings -> Venti x Fem!Reader x Bard (Gale)

Word Count -> 4,337

Theme -> Angst, Backstory, Long Fic

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Spoilers to Venti's story, character death

"Oh little sprite, from whence beyond

Does thou reminiscent of a vagabond?

Curious to which it whisks upon

Trapped now in desolate, forlorn"

Venti the wind sprite had always been curious, the single whisk of air that always goes the opposite way, hanging behind from his fellow currents to be distracted by a curious thing. So it was no surprise to anyone that he had gone lost once more in their rounds swaying but when he'd not return, long ago has his current passed the nation of Mond. Yet there was no way he can fly by his family of winds, for he finds himself trapped within the walls of a grazing storm that cages the stone walls of the city, of winds that he could not control nor agitate.

No matter how hard he tries the wind does not part, and so little Venti was stuck inside brooding skies and angry blasts. No mere sprite can go against the mighty strength of an archon.

So he resigns to his fate and wanders in this new place. Of a city wide and barren, why dare the Decarabian hide such dwelling? And even with the raging howls of the walls of wind, Venti couldn't help but wonder the silence it traps within.

A tiny ball of white in an expanse of gray. The thought scares the little sprite enough to make him scurry for the smallest bit of sound he can decipher. The loneliness creeps into his core—

And his little body bumps into that of a soft material. "Oh! Goodness, one should not run off without looking like that-" the figure turns and finds itself face to face with a floating blob, deep blue eyes wide and mouth hangs with wonder. Venti recognizes this creature in one of his endeavors as the wind, a human being, the true wanderers of Teyvat. Yet what is one doing trapped? "Such a peculiar being! What could you be?"

Yet it is not frightened by Venti's rarity, well, given he is not the most frightening wonder in this continent this was no surprise.

The sprite did not mind being found out. No, no, quite the opposite honestly, as he flies closer to the young boy and hides in his upturned hood. Nuzzling against the junction in his neck as he expresses gratitude in the company and presence of another in this desolate world.

The young boy chuckles and it reminds him of a song. "Perhaps you do not understand what I spoke?" The sprite shakes its head and the ticklish spot is tickled again. "Or do you not know how to speak?" A nod. And another giggle.

Without another word, the human slips back into the alleys of winding yet thin roads before making his way inside what looks to be a cathedral of tall composition. Glass windows of the same length tinted in kaleidoscopic patterns of color. There is a light in them you would usually bask in during the 'outside world', but in here it replicates that of an oasies in the deserts of Sumeru.

Underneath the artificial haze it beams a seeming spotlight at a figure clad in a dark ebony cloak. Venti felt the vibrations of an elated gasp as the human rushed over with a smile and frantic waving.

"My fair muse, how you've brighten my day, bestowing your presence tonight!"

The cloak tenses before immediately relaxing, the 'muse' he speaks of turns with its loose hood falling as it bundled around the shoulders, and Venti the sprite couldn't help but gasp too at the sight!

Fair is lacking, no words can describe the essence of bloom and beauty at the beholder as you stood there almost sparkling, hair catching the twinkle of light. Your plum lips caught itself smiling yet your eyes twinkled double the amusement at the sight of the human before you, "Gale." You murmured with an undertone of annoyance as you trudged over, flicking the boy's forehead so suddenly he'd voiced his hurt loudly. "Where have you been?! You've never been late to our daily rendezvous, you had me worried-!"

"Oh, such a cutie when you worry!" The young boy, Gale, cupped your cheeks in the middle of your spiel as he softly pats it with his fingers. Venti had never seen such creature change colors as fast as you, not even a chameleon, or an octopus in hiding. "I've simply found a new companion while I was out and about!"

As if a spotlight was caught unto him this time, your blown eyes wandered to the sprite floating by your company's neck. And oddly he'd found the attention appreciated.

"Who is this? An elf?"

"Venti!" There was a distant jingle of imaginary bells in his squeak of a voice.

"It/You can talk?!"

(Y/N) Lawrence.

Gale the Bard.

Venti the El- Wind Sprite.

Gale was a bard that resides in the cathedral of Mondstadt, homeless and without blood and kin, the nuns had took him in and lead their choir in turn for their hospitality.

You, on the other hand, lived with a clan of hunters that once ruled the mountains and forests. But with the emergence of the inescapable walls of wind, your family had been on the forefront of the protection of the citizens.

There were a lot of struggles in communication between you two and the lil sprite. He only knows his name and how to copy words (not so fluently) so questions had to be foregone, teaching the little one took priority. And Gale being the weaver of words took it upon himself to teach him frequently as you had your duties and family to go to.

Venti would sometimes disappear for a majority of the time and you'd figured he finally found a way to pass through the winds without shredding himself among the blades of current. And then he'd pop back in to listen to the merry tunes Gale had come up with, both of them waiting for your return.

"Ah Venti, is she not a beauty? The youngest daughter of Lawrence, as divine as that of incense. Oh tell me those dotted eyes could see it too!" The little sprite eagerly nods as he follows the bard's stride across the aisles in the holy cathedral, once again barren of other souls except for them. Whenever his human friend finds time to muse, it would be most about the maiden he fancies, the muse of most of his songs. Venti had been captured by his delicate tunes and savory lines to the point that he too had been overly enticed by your grace when your presence shines.

Your strength, your smile, your laugh, your hair. Your gait, your poise, your eyes, your glare. You had caught their stares dozens of times in silence before and it was always up to you to put them back to present time.

Venti simply basked in your warming aura and indulges himself outwardly, often you'd find him dozing off on the crown of your head. And often times you'd find a little pout on Gale at such a sight that you had no choice but to tease. In those moments, the wind sprite knew he had come out triumphant.

The cathedral doors open as quickly as they had closed, your windswept and frantic form appearing from the storm outside. The two boys in your life immediately lit up on your appearance but you'd know most of it was directed at the numerous scrolls and books you currently cradle in your shivering arms.

You offered them a grin, one of victory, and you'd all cheered at your success.

Soon, your merry trio made its way to the second floor of the cathedral in front of a faraway hallway that looks over the vast floor of the first yet still had the glow from the looming illuminated glass windows. Beholden in front of you are illustrations of a world beyond, filled with colors and shine, a world you had only imagined from stories now pictured perfectly.

Venti would hover over the illustrations at random intervals and giddily point at some of those he recognized, squeaking incoherent noises yet reflecting happiness and familiarity. While you fancied with indulging the sprite in his incomprehensible stories, Gale sat beside you with adoring yet distant eyes upon the images laid before him. Looking through them, and projecting himself in such a world. The books of the outside world you'd stolen from your clan's sacred libraries will be the start of a spark of desire to be free. And with it the start of a new era.

"The true sky, and songs that cageless soar...

Were they not wishes worth fighting for?"

Long had you gone and abandoned your stolen goods for them to admire more, at least until the day your clan finally realized the missing materials in the vast expanse of the bookshelves they own. There was more to marvel at yet you feared if you linger longer, your sister would look for you and find your little crime all too soon.

Venti quietly watches the familiar illustration of a beach littered with creatures of the sea on its glittering sand before he'd lift his tiny head up, witnessing the intense stare his bard friend had on the scroll where lies an overgrown tree and a stone structure. The sprite noted he had not seen this one.

"How marvelous it would be, to celebrate the most joyous moments under this tree," Gale mumbled in a quiet lilt of longing in his voice, "Imagine (Y/N) and I, with you by my side, as I finally pluck the courage to get down on one knee." Venti bumbled in slight jealousy, buzzing in front of the bard that could only cast a laugh. "Oh hush, dear friend, is it not appropriate to take an arrow to the knee for an archer such as she?"

Yet even with his desire to be by your side, the little sprite knew that he would be there to support his friend for the happiness you two deserved. In a land where you are free. Still, Venti hopes his cuteness would be enough to prolong you just a little bit more.

Drunk in passion and dreams, the next day the bard was scheming. And when you'd come to his cathedral of a home, he finally poured out his plans to you with a Venti quipping with cheers on the side.

The Mondstadtian had predicted your hesitance, even your disapproval on the notion, and were ready to chip in to persuade you once more— yet you gave in. Immediately. The same fire burned in your eyes at the thought of being unshackled and caged from the world begging to be explored. Your sentiments together with the bard fueled the desire between you three, and through the brainpower of a trio of young minds, you had drawn your plans.

Gale aided by Venti would try and coerce with the Ragnvindr clan's leader, and you would work on convincing your eldest sister Amos for the help needed to coerce the whole Lawrence bloodline into the battle. You knew there was an undeniable hatred within her against Decarabian and you wanted her to fuel that fire once and for all, for one great cause.

And soon enough, the strings of fate had come into play, and the one who shall record this momentous history has taken its seat by the balcony of war. Only the last piece of the puzzle is left in this grandoise play—

"Gale, Venti, are you sure this is the right direction to the hideout? We're taking a route longer than usual, surely you're not making last minute pranks..."

Your bow smacks at your back as you made your way inside the dark closet. It was two cycles before the fated ambush would come and in your nerves you had not realized how amiss things had been for the others. You were more than ready even if your fingers were to tremble everytime it holds your bow and arrow, predictions of the war that shall come floats within the expanse of your mind.

In your limited vision, your bard friend and sprite shared a look that did not pass by you. The tension had only caused you to gulp in your nervousness, were you found out? Did the participants of the revolt suddenly back down? "There has been a change of plans, but worry not for history still pans. My Muse, it is best you stay to assure you will not be caught in the storm's disarray-"

A hand flew across the bard's pristine white skin and his dark ocean hues could not help but widen. Is he... telling you to not participate in the war?! What kind of— a sob left through your gritted teeth despite your best efforts, and you're not sure who was more broken between your friends upon the sight. "How could you, even think- Gale, you carry no arms but a lyre! And Venti still has no means to go against the Archon that controls the winds! What kind of absurd idea is this?!" In the middle of your rage, your friends had already wrapped you in their sentimental hug, expressing their own misery with free-flowing tears." I'm supposed to protect you... t-the three of us were supposed to lead the path of freedom..."

"You've always protected us, (Y/N). Now would be the best time... to return the favor," and as your friend stepped back to give a parting smile, your whole world suddenly engulfed in black as the door shut with a slam and a final lock.

"Gale! Venti! No, please no! Let me out! Don't do this, PLEASE!"

"Please hear us out, our dear (Y/N)," Gale leaned his forehead against the thick door that separates you two, shedding the last bit of tears he could muster before the end of an era. The desperation in your every bang against it, breaks apart a hole in his own heart, "For your own good, and your own future."

When Gale described love to the little Venti, the latter was certain that he felt the same way for you. Yet the human ever so jokingly laughed at how he was still too young to fully understand the implications of such words. But he desired just as much to protect you, to be by your side, and to see your smile. But the human was right for he did not truly understand the reasons WHY he felt like so...

So he asked instead, dear friend Gale of Tales, why have you come to cherish this human in devotion? And quite so the other was happy to indulge!

"It starts with young Mondstadt when the walls were young and the people still knew the tales and what they sang. I was a poor little bard with a broken lyre, when living alone was nothing but dire.

Without a home, without a bed, I was ready to starve to death. But an angel clad in white suddenly lead me to bright light. My muse had brought to me a cathedral, yes the one we are in now! And since then I've lived a proper choir life, always wondering how...

just how things would be without (Y/N), my angel? Continuing to live in the dark alleys, would I have been able? Even now I have yet to repay her act of kindness. But one day, for sure... " Perhaps, this act the young boy now follows, was the payment he had been waiting for.

How long you had stayed there, you had no clue but by the sounds of war cries and clashing steel had told you enough. You'd been there for too long.

Blessed with some luck that a crowbar had found its way in this janitor closet in a cathedral no less, you had immediately set out to join the battle: beyond the holy doors flames had lit up from the torches the revolt has carried, many bodies lay by the stone grounds of the city, some moving and struggling while some... you spare them not a second thought as you rushed past the stone pillars to where the heat of the war should be. If the battle plan had gone as it should then—

A hand gripped your arm with such force it had you cry out before you even registered you were being slammed to the floor. A shadow of a knight that serves the God of Storm looms over you with a glare blazing past his helmet. "You're one of them, I recognize that face! You're not winning today-" yet another blade suddenly pierced through his chest, and your shirt had been splattered when it was pulled. The now lifeless body falls past you and another replaces him.

"Sir Ragnvindr!" The knight shared the same shock and relief you wore before it steeled, immediately pulling you up and away from the on-going exchanges of blows. "Everyone- how's the war looking?"

"Men had fallen from the green-tipped arrows, but we are making progress," the redhead gestured to the tower where the greatest enemy lies, taking note of the cracks and crumbling structure, a sign of his coming doom. A very good sign. "Amos took it upon herself to climb the tower-"

"What?! That's beyond the plan, she- she could get herself killed!" You brought your own bow from your back at the mention of your sister archer, bringing the strings back with an arrow at the ready, your intention clear. The redhead had shown a glint of worry but his gaze had been resolved once again at the hope of freedom, and he leaves you to your chase as he fends off the guards that dare go after you.

You expertly evaded blows and parried kicks with your bow and arrow, yet no sign of the heads of the resistance had caught your sight. The longer you climbed, the more you feared for the worst. By 2/3 of the tower you had scaled you managed to poke your head out to see the scale of war. Of red and orange floated below as the razor winds felt more violent than it had been ever since you had been born within its impenetrable walls, even from this distance high up you could still hear the clash, the warmongers held up in the central square where all battles now takes place.

And within that chaos you managed to single out a lump of black and a dot of floating white. Miraculously, your scream had reached their faraway ears and looked up, just in time to see your aerial shots of support.

"(Y/N)?! What is she-!" His words had been cut with an arrow wheezed past his head to bring down a foe that had sneaked behind him. Right, battle. Many of the immediate threats had been neutralized and the resistance had found the upper ground thanks to the archer's barrage. "How-how is she up there!"

Another body had fallen next to him with a cut on its back, a certain knight rushing past him to hit another. "Watch your back, bard! Now's not the time to monologue, she's going to backup Amos."

You were too far to hear the horrified gasp and the fearful expression your two faithful friends adorned. But the ground you were on began to shake, and you know you had to go on. "Venti! Gale! Focus, I'll be there with you two soon!" You screamed at the top of your lungs in hopes that it will reach them before continuing your ascent to the most treacherous area you had to be in—

You barelled towards the woman with silver hair with a pace you've never seen and a strength you'd never thought you carried, exchanging the shot you felt lodge into your left side as you sent one right through the guard's neck. You fell on your bottom and clutched the wounded area, but kept it there, if not to make sure the blood does not pour if you were to take it out.

"Sister!" The familiar voice cradled you as gently as she could with a fear-stricken face. But you assured her that it had not hit anything major, the way her worry didn't dissipate seem to hide a kind of anguish she couldn't name. "We must get you to safety, the clerics- the clerics could-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you grunted as you pried yourself out of her grasp to prove your point, still able to keep your stance. You see Amos struggle from fatigue yet about to bite back, "We're so close, sister, any moment we linger is another body on the list of deaths." Painfully she'd bitten on her own tongue, finally relenting as you ascended the last few steps.

Normal arrows are nothing but toothpicks against the mighty God of Storms, the Anemo Archon, who easily flicked your futile attempts to graze him. And yet Decarabian was losing power just from fighting off not only your barrages but those even from below. His walls were thinning and his heart crumbles, from the thought of his once devoted followers turning back on him.

With one last strength the Lawrences gathered every piece of energy and power they could into their shot, and Decarabian looked at them with tired eyes and a raised hand. "Finally, I shall hold his gaze." The voice next to you spoke before your charged shot, swirling with beaming light flew past the sharp gale of wind and pierced through the God's core. Your ears had picked up on a violent crack before you were hit by the razor breeze upon the dying breath of the archon, sending you and Amos off the crumbling tower to free fall to your deaths.

In the edge of your peripherals the bleak gray walls of storms dissolved into rays of natural light, giving way to a hue of blue you had never seen before. As the wind wheezed past your ears, you smiled at the face of death—

When a jingle of little bells suddenly slowed your descension, and you were softly met with the hard floor on your back. With tired eyes you'd found yourself next to the pioneers of freedom, conscious and unconscious. You had felt Venti nudge your hand to those of another's limp ones, soft palms yet calloused fingers, you intertwined your hands with that of the bard's.

"We did it, we finally... did it..." A pulling force drains the consciousness from your mind and body in laboured breaths, and despite your protests to keep staring at the beautiful sight of the true sky, your eyelids were pulled shut by an unknown exhaustion.

Past their closed state, a flash of light was the last thing you had thought. Bruised and beaten, your warm hand did not register how the ones you clung to... did not squeeze back.

...

The next time (e/c) orbs flew open their eyes the world felt that of a lucid dream, with silk of the cleanest white donned their body, and the softest breeze of a sweet flower you had not smelt passes by you. Teal orbs looked down at you with a gentleness you've felt from the artificial light from the cathedral. Speaking of- your eyes unfocused shifted its gaze to the light blue skies.

"You're... awake." Your bard friend breathed out in disbelief and another emotion your brain can't quite place. The cotton of clouds float above in painted beauty, and you had pried your sight away from it almost painfully just to spare your companion a look.

"It's..." your throat grated and ached at the attempt, coming out so weak and breathless, "It's very beautiful... out here, free... Have- have you gone to explore?" Your face twisted in numbing pain from talking, and the bard started to quiver yet stood strong with a smile.

"I had, it's - it's just like how we imagined, even better than we've taken for granted," wet spots adorned your cheeks in short successions, you couldn't help but smile. "I only wish you were there to see it first hand, the flowers, the sunsets, the land-"

"Yet I fell asleep," you laughed in mirth yet there was no sound that escaped. The grip around you tightens as you loll your head to the side; there lays a new city kissed by the huge orb of light in the blue veil of a sky, lush green grass of health you've never seen before shone with a moistness on it, and around its glory lays a beauty of a moat that mirrors the one above. Beautiful, you whispered under your long-awaited breathe.

"The people of Mond had done their best to rebuild, for the promise of freedom they had not wilt," a hand on your cheek, flawless, urged your gaze once more to lay upon the bard. "We've devised a festival to celebrate named Ludi Harpastum. Tell me... my muse, will you accompany me in this new custom?"

A new breeze had lulled you in your ears once again to sleep, and a flash of fear had passed over your companion's features before it dissipated when you opened your eyes once more. A festival, you haven't heard that in years, "I would love to. But maybe... tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow."

"Mhm, I feel tired... the sun invites me to sleep, will you wait for me tomorrow?"

"T-Tomorrow."

"Good." Your eyes were covered by darkness again as you felt a pressure against your forehead. "It's... a date..." And your tired heart finally found peace, after battling for 15 days restlessly, desperately.

Venti picked you up from where you laid on his lap, setting you down on the grass bed besides the giant roots of the Windrise tree. Nearest your left, a stone plate carved with words you never dare see lies next to you. And for the first time in fifteen days, a God cries again.

¹The green-tipped arrows were coated with poison.

²Reader's bow is designed after the Raven's Bow.

³Gale is not the bard's official name but was used to avoid too many confusion.

⁴This had a different, more painful and hatred alternate ending where you hated Venti for taking Gale's form, but I changed it so I could rest my own heart.

*in honor of your contribution to Mondstadt's freedom, the maiden who throws the Harpastum is made for your grace.

@boxofteenageideas @creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[aching-tummies]

Hi there! I went through your blog and realized that your stomach often makes you suffer from hunger or overeating or maybe for no reason at all. I wanted to ask you what would you call your worst stomach experience in public where you had to deal with your upset stomach and at the same time pretend that nothing is wrong with you?

Hi!

I don't think I'd want to bestow the crown 'worst' to any one incident in particular. Three incidents immediately came to mind upon reading this ask though, but it's not like they were always really bad stomach aches--like, some of the ones I've written about before and not included here definitely hurt more than these incidents...but I think I'm more leaning into the "pretend nothing is wrong" part of this ask. These are in no particular order and none of these are ranked better or worse than the others, they are just the first three incidents to come to mind.

1) High School Fashions class. We were sitting down for a general knowledge test and then we'd be watching the standard tutorial. This was an upper-year class so we were being tested on whether or not we knew the parts of a sewing machine, what settings to use for specific kinds of stitches, the different kinds of relief cuts and how to properly trim seam allowances etc. I walk in and start my test and my stomach starts cramping really badly. It was the kind of cramps that told me I needed to find a toilet immediately or risk the consequences. Unfortunately, the teacher was known to be a real hardass about letting students leave the classroom...and I had only been in the room for 7 minutes when the cramping started. I was doubled over and debating whether or not to take my chances asking to be excused or to let the stomach ache kill me. Eventually, I gathered the courage. I sped through my test. Luckily, I knew everything on there having been a good student in class the year before and having retained my knowledge. I sped through and handed in my test, asking to be excused. I got lucky and my request was granted and I just bolted for the washroom. Did my business and found out why the cramps: Aunt Flow had left a murder scene in my underwear. No quarters on me and mine was the kind of school where it wasn't uncommon to find literal turds smeared on everything so I wasn't going to take my chances lining my underwear with TP (not like they even had any). In the end, I went back to the classroom and grabbed my supplies before gathering the courage to ask the hardass teacher to be excused yet again. There's a greater issue here about how quickly I made up my mind that it was easier to lie about having forgotten something in the washroom than it was to outright say, "My period surprised me and if you don't let me back out to put a pad on then there's gonna be a bloodstain on the chair I'll be sitting on"...but that's kind of a social issue I don't really want to talk much about here. I got lucky because of my reputation. The teachers knew I was not a flight risk to skip classes. The teacher was reluctant but let me go a second time and that was a miracle. Other students in the class were screaming 'favoritism' and I wasn't very popular with them for the rest of my time at the school. Ultimately: as a period-haver I probably should have known to carry supplies on me for every washroom trip...on the other, schools need to fix their shix and allow students the dignity of going when they need to go--of notifying the teacher they'll be in the washroom rather than have to ask for permission. My bowels weren't going to stop cramping had I been refused permission to use the washroom...and if that had happened it would have been a real shitty day for everyone.

2) All-you-can-eat. We were visiting friends of the family in a coastal city. There are some raw fish delicacies that I absolutely adore and have a hard time finding living inland. In the place we were visiting, that stuff was abundant and cheap(er) so we went all out. I ate a bunch and by the end of the meal I was thanking the powers that be that I wore baggie clothes because I actually sneakily unbuttoned my jeans. My stomach literally had no give to it as I discreetly rubbed it. To say I was stuffed would have been the understatement of the year then and there. Well...I was the only woman in our party and I was the youngest member there too--always the "embarrassing little sister" person. I don't like being fussed over and I don't like the teasing that comes with being the youngest...so I was trying really hard to pretend like my stomach didn't literally feel like it would burst. That night was probably the first time in my life I honestly feared my stomach would rupture. Everything was so achingly distended that I was terrified breathing and walking would pop my stomach like a balloon. Walking back to the car was agony. I was imbalanced and felt like I had a boulder strapped to my front. I was actually subtly carrying my gut because it felt so heavy. And man, I was walking pretty slow and everyone else had longer legs. In order to pretend everything was fine and that I wasn't in an embarrassing state, I had to basically jog to keep up with the group. I was so stuffed that night that I honestly went three days without eating much of anything after that. I wasn't hungry for that time either because my stomach was just that full.

3) Most recently, and I did write about this one: I was working fast-food and my stomach started cramping in the middle of my shift. I tried to act normal and quell it by pressing my stomach against the counter. Eventually, I couldn't bear it anymore and nipped off to the washroom to take care of the upset stomach. Unfortunately, that was right as we got an influx of customers. I was in the washroom for quite a while. Much like the high school story, it's shocking how quickly a lie came to my mind. When I exited the washroom I told my coworker that customers had made a mess so I was cleaning it while I was in there. Technically not a lie. There was pee on the seat before I used the toilet, one miscellaneous smear on a wall, and a bunch of muddy water splattered all over the sink as well as a couple of paper towels that had missed the bin. I did clean it all up but that wouldn't account for my time in the washroom so I exaggerated and told them that there were more poop smears on the walls than there actually were. Yeah...I'd rather embellish/lie about the state of a public washroom than admit that I had a stomach ache at work.

[creativerogues]

Verbal Components For Your Bardic Spells! (Levels 0-3)

Cantrips

Vicious Mockery: Examined flaws, I now take stock; viciously, I insult and mock.

Prestidigitation: A dash of magic. An arcane trick. A mundane casting, simple and quick.

Mending: These broken things to my will bend; By my power, these things I mend.

Mage Hand: I call forth a magic hand, to pick and pull, or something grand.

Dancing Lights: The darkness now I hope to blight, and summon forth these dancing lights.

Blade Ward: Whether found or blacksmith made, I ward myself from blunt and blade.

1st Level

Unseen Servant: Even those who are observant, cannot see my conjured servant.

Thunderwave: I summon forth a thunderous wave; Wash over my foes, send them to their graves.

Tasha’s Hideous Laughter: A giggling curse of cackling chatter, a plague upon you, of unruly laughter.

Speak with Animals: Using my magic, there's knowledge I seek; to understand these creatures to which I speak.

Sleep: With my power, I summon sleep; weary eyes, a slumber deep.

Silent Image: I weave a spell of minor confusion and create the image for this silent illusion.

Longstrider: Come forth magic, in me reside, imbue my gait and increase my stride.

Identify: Magic come forth, infuse and declassify, thy secrets within, I now  cast Identify.

Heroism: I bolster the spirit and wipe away tears, become a hero and face thy fears.

Healing Word: Stop this pain, and wounds be cured, all by the power of Healing Word.

Faerie Fire: Oh wondrous sprites, I bid thee conspire, surround this place with thy faerie fire.

Dissonant Whispers: Hear this song, what you deserve; a painful tune, to wrack your nerves.

Disguise Self: To be myself would be unwise, with magic my form I now disguise.

Detect Magic: Primordial forces, be now unbound, reveal to me where magic is found.

Comprehend Languages: By these words, your speech I intend, to become more clear, so I comprehend.

Charm Person: By my deeds I mean no harm, with these words I hope to charm.

Bane: By this curse misfortune will reign, your futures end, this is your bane.

Animal Friendship: Beasts I say, to my will bend, hearken now and be my friend.

2nd Level

Zone of Truth: Under magical interrogation, the truth I will pry; there is no deception, unable to lie.

Suggestion: My desires you will not question, give in now to my suggestion.

Silence: With mystic words, quiet all violence, I conjure forth a sphere of silence.

Shatter: With thunderous smite, to sunder and tatter, an explosive force to destroy and shatter.

See Invisibility: Arcane magic, help me see through, make the invisible come into view.

Locate Object: Magic find that which I dictate, go forth now, so that I may locate.

Invisibility: Help me pass and go unseen, give this form an invisible sheen.

Hold Person: Held in place, can't run or walk, frozen still, solid as rock.

Heat Metal: Come forth fire, this metal to greet, glow and bend with thy magic heat.

Enthrall: All of you who heed my call, come see me now, new minds to enthrall.

Enhance Ability: I call forth a power for me to instil, to bolster traits and improve thy skill.

Detect Thought: From my mind I do project, to read the thoughts, that I do detect.

Crown of Madness: In quiet sadness, your mind I drown, with iron madness, your head I crown.

Cloud of Dagger: In this place, a shroud that staggers, come forth now my cloud of daggers.

Calm Emotion: Lets not get mad and cause commotion, be at ease, calm your emotion.

Blindness/Deafness: Darkness falls, come forth the night! I curse thee senses with withering blight.

3rd Level

Tongues: Words misunderstood, I can't contemplate, by this spell, these words translate.

Stinking Cloud: Conjure up a nauseating shroud, billow forth a stinking cloud.

Speak with Plants: From natures grip, there's answers I seek. With this magic, these plants now speak.

Nondetection: Although a presence, some may suspect, with divination magic, they won't detect.

Leomund’s Tiny Hut: A shield of force. A mighty dome. Some hours of peace. A tiny home.

Feign Death: With this hex, your life I take; but in truth, your death is fake.

Fear: From your mind, your phobias appear - turn and run, or face your fear.

Dispel Magic: Dispel all magic, here and now; I cleanse this spot, that is my vow.

Clairvoyance: To divine the area with no flamboyance, I create a sensor of clairvoyance.

Bestow Curse: By these words you'll feel much worse, on your form I bestow this curse.

[bukojuiice]

merry go round of life.

ೃ pairing: (magical prince! shoto todoroki x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: howl’s moving castle au! studio ghibli au! 

ೃ warnings: slight angst, mention of endeavor and war.

ೃ part 1/2 of the howl’s moving castle au. 

ೃ word count: 3,807 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ as the tags and the au suggests, this fic is pretty much the premise of howl’s moving castle except shoto is a magical prince. i’m super excited to complete the rest of this studio ghibli au series and i hope you enjoy reading!  ♡

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!) ♡

“Find me in the future!”

The voice of a young woman who he didn’t recognize. Amongst the shooting stars and the demons falling from the night sky.

Tonight was the night.

The grassy plains and the meadows that were surrounding the warm cottage that he called home. The loving home that he, his mother, and his siblings lived in. The home that kept him away from the real world.

Things will never be the same ever again.

This was going to be easy right? All he needed to do was trade his heart for the demon’s power and he’d see his father again right?

He’d finally see the real world. The magical world that he always yearned for.

Being confined in a cottage all his life did leave much to be desired. He couldn’t just run around the lush fields with his older siblings and learn magic through spell books all his life, can he? There were things out there that he had to discover.

Now that his mother had passed, his siblings vanished into thin air, and a letter sent by his father, the tyrant king of the Kingdom of Ingary, detailing that he must learn magic on his twelfth year, in order to secure a position of royalty and rule the land with him.

This intimidating man he had never met all his life, except seeing him on newspapers and in history books, would suddenly write a letter to him out of the blue- it must be urgent right? Maybe, this was his calling? Maybe the passing of his mother is the reason the king, his father, contacted him in the first place? Did the most powerful man in the entire continent know about his whereabouts all along?

Was he living a lie all this time?

Shoto needed answers. The king’s invitation and this letter was his only clue.

But, before that, he needed to learn magic and sorcery first.

He was going to turn 12 in a few month’s time, how is he going to do this? He can’t just snap his fingers and manifest magic on the spot, right?

“A m-meteor shower? I-in a few months?” The handsome young boy with half-and-half colored hair and the prettiest heterochromatic eyes, whispered to himself in disbelief. “Take your chance and meet a fire and ice demon who will give you their magic.” He continues to read along the lines of the tabloid, grabbing a worn notebook on the table next to him, and writing down every piece of information that entailed the phenomenon that was about to come. “It doesn’t say when though.” He continues to whisper to himself, his shoulders dropping in defeat as if he had just hit a slump.

The only hope that he was holding on to right now was his luck guiding him on that fated day.

And it did guide him. At a cost.

The fire and ice demon who were to give him his magical quirks, weren’t all that he had seemed.

In exchange for his humanity, he was to become the most powerful and the only wizard prince in the entire world.

Several years have passed. 

The once lost boy, who is now a famed prince, was in search for something again.

The effect of the demon taking his heart had made him soulless. Lifeless.

 Clinging on to material things and fake temporary pleasures in life were the only things keeping him going. 

The once newly crowned prince had wanted to escape his hellish kingdom, in search for peace and solace, a feeling that he did not experience while living in such a wide and empty space and with an estranged father who knew nothing but war.

His skills of wizardry grew stronger and stronger, expanding to more than just fire and ice; the magic that Calcifer, the demon whom he had made a contract with, bestowed upon him all those years ago. He had collected enough knowledge and learned enough encantations to get him out of this castle, and travel the world by his own blissful means.

Calcifer, the oh so powerful yet surprisingly comical demon helped him with his plans.

And what better way of an escape than with a magical moving castle?

This led to Shoto and Calcifer coming to another agreement that the demon would power the castle as long as Shoto would find someone in this world that would break the contract between them.

The prince and the demon were able to escape the confines of the castle scotch-free, however, it was not long until King Enji realized that the heir and the next in line to the throne, disappeared without a trace. Immediately warranting a search party consisting of his most elite soldiers. This prompted Shoto to adopt different identities and aliases, changing his appearance in every other kingdom he visited and lived in so he wouldn’t be recognized. Along his journey, he took in a sweet orphaned young girl, named Eri who became his assistant and apprentice.

The king was growing impatient. It had been a few years and his men have not found a trace as to where the prince might have gone. 

He was running out of options.

He wanted Shoto to excel. To be powerful. He never ever planned to see him or even bothered to send a letter telling him that he was the son of the most powerful king in the land, if the boy did not have anything special about him.

The magical genes passed on to the younger Todoroki by his sorceress mother. That’s all that he wanted. Use him. Use him for his power. Make him a prince, raise him, and then throw him away if he was of no use anymore. His son’s magical prowess was all he needed for his quest to conquer the entire world.

The only option he had left was to choose violence.

The king called up his war council and declared war on the neighboring kingdom.

If nothing was going to bring Shoto back, then conflict will.

With the entire continent falling into shambles, kingdoms fighting each other left and right, the peace and the freedom Shoto Todoroki had always wanted to achieve had become short-lived.

 He knew he was the reason why a conflict had arisen in the first place, yet, he couldn’t help but fight his father’s forces behind the scenes, and continue to run away, still seeking for permanent liberty. For a permanent home.

 He found his home.

In a simple girl working in her family’s hat shop.

And finally, Shoto had something to live for and to fight for.

 “Calcifer!”

“Shoto’s heart! It’s MINE!”

“Please! Let go!” You struggle to fight your way through the igniting fire coming from Calcifer and the ember that was about to consume the Witch of the Waste. Her old and wrinkled hands clutching on Shoto’s heart as if her life depended on it.

The remains of the moving castle continue to crumble, as the only power that was keeping it alive which came from Calcifer had become unstable as the Witch of the Waste was holding Shoto’s heart.

 “Put it back now! Please!” You try to fight back your tears, still trying your best to remain kind to the old witch yet she did not budge.

“It’s hot! It’s hot!” She continues to ignore your pleas, reacting to the delicate burning material that was on her hands instead. The grip that she had on Shoto’s heart had grown tighter and tighter and you had to do something to stop her.

 Time was ticking.

You look around the rubble and the debris, weighing out your options when a bucket of water had appeared in front of you. It was as if telling you that this was the only decision left to make.

  You take a deep breath and throw the bucket of water at the Witch of the Waste which also resulted in Calcifer, the demon who has manifested into a form of a destructive inferno for thousands of years, had been put out  just like a regular old fire. 

Like it was nothing.

There was a short moment of silence.

Eri was clinging on to you, looking for reassurance your face, yet you could not give her that. You hold her tight to try and help cheer her up just a little bit, while Heen, the old service dog given to Shoto as a gift, had his paws on your feet, as he did not know what was going to happen either.

The castle that was still moving with its last remaining energy, grinds to a halt.  

Is this it?

“(Y/N)!” You hear Eri call out. You open your eyes and see her hands trying to reach out to you. But, before you could reach her, the remaining part of the castle that all of you were standing on, split into half due to the lack of non-existent energy powering it. 

You feel yourself falling.

Heen, the dog, jumps to you before the latter remains of the castle subsequently falls down the cliffs of the Waste. You brace for impact until… you feel light. As if you’ve landed more comfortably than you thought.

You raise your head to take in your surroundings, aside from the few dirt and rubble sprinkled on your hair and on your dress, you were safe. Heen was safe too although the debris that was left of the castle was not salvageable anymore and there were no means to get out of this place with the few materials left.

It looked like there was no way out of here.

Tears swell in your eyes. All these frustrations and all this pain you had to endure because you wanted to save Shoto, was all for naught. Was there still a chance to save him at this point? Or rather, did you even ever have the slightest chance of saving him since the beginning?

Heen quickly trots all the way to where you were. However, you ignore him and continue to stare off into space, thinking about the careless decision you had just made and if what you did was even the right thing.

He barks softly, trying to get your attention, but you barely move a muscle. Even more tears forming in your eyes.

“Heen.. what h-have I done?” Your voice shakes, still trying to process everything that had just happened. “I poured water on C-calcifer… What if I killed Shoto too!?” You bent forward, kneeling down on the rubble around you. Drops of water began to pour out from your eyes, tears streaming down from your cheeks.

Hopelessness and Uselessness.

These were the only emotions you were feeling right now.

You continue to break down in your sorrow. The thought of doing everything in your power to help Shoto but knowing that nothing was enough aches in your heart.

He doesn’t deserve all this pain and anguish.

All you wanted to do was to help him.

Why was fate doing this to you? To you both?

All hope was lost until a glimmering light reflected on the remains of one of the magical doors still connected to the Castle.

Heen continues to bark at you until you turn your head to him and then notice the light glimmering from your ring. The ring with magical properties that Shoto had given to you, to keep you safe and to help you when things go awry.

“It’s moving?” You wipe your tears and stare bewilderingly at the ring that was vibrating on your finger. “Is Shoto still alive!? Can you lead me to him?” You ask softly, slowly regaining your hope and your confidence that maybe you can still save him.

You stand up from the ground, running to the corner of the cliff. The ring continues to guide you, it’s light reflecting on a door that was hidden behind the debris of an iron sheet that was once a part of the castle.

You push it down with all your might, Heen trying his best to help you. The metal sheet falls down with a loud “thud” and the blue energy emanating from the ring continues to glow brighter and brighter, the light pointing to the direction of the door.

You turn the knob, the ring trembles even harder. You slowly pull the door open and a sudden rush of wind blew across your face. The inside was dark and empty. There was nothing of interest here.

But, why did the ring want you to go inside?

You hold your hand to your chest, letting the ring guide your way through the darkness. You stretch your hand out to the pitch black of nothingness, and it ripples at your touch. 

It was a portal. 

Of course it was a portal. What else would it be? You thought to yourself.

You take a deep breath and with Heen following close behind you, you take a step into the darkness. Praying that this portal takes you to where you need to be.

You were keeping count of the passage of time. It’s been several minutes of you just walking in darkness. But, even if you turned back, was there even a place to return to? You continue to hold on to the little hope you have left. The ring still doing it’s best to guide you to where it was telling you to go as you continue to explore the endless cave of darkness around you. 

The ring starts to quiver again, as if it had caught a signal or had detected something. You walk faster, following where the ring was leading you until you catch site of a speck of blue light. Walking even faster, you arrive at the inside of a dimly lit cottage. 

It was old and simple. For some reason, it felt like you’ve seen this place before. 

There was a table at the center, with papers and books sprawled about, a bookshelf next to it, a worn bed at the side, and a hearth near the edge of the room. 

You approach the table to examine the papers that were placed upon there when the ring suddenly stopped shaking on your finger. Heen was barking at you again, so that you would turn your attention to him and see him scratching the door that led to the outside. 

“Heen?” You mumble, looking out the window. You approach the door he was trying to open without taking your eyes off the windowpane that reflected a gloomy and plain image of the night sky outside. 

You leave the cottage and suddenly, it dawned on you that this was the cottage that Shoto had lived in when he was a child. 

This is the same beautiful place he had taken you a few days prior. Yet, there was a sort of melancholy feeling to it. It felt lonely, barren, and there were no colorful array of flowers in the meadows. It felt like a major downgrade to the wonderful place he had shown you. Was it not true? Were the beautiful flowers and the serene view just an illusion? Was this the reality of the place he had lived in most of his life instead?

Before you could even fully process your surroundings, an array of shooting stars began to fall from the sky. It was burning blue and bright, it was ethereal but at the same time, terrifying. These were demons and magical entities from an otherworldly universe. Seeking to make contracts with human beings who wanted to learn more about magic. 

“This is the time where Shoto met Calcifer.” You whisper to yourself, still looking up the bright night sky, taking in the beauty and the wistfulness of this particular event and what happened to Shoto because of it. 

You look out into the pools of water surrounding the cottage, the shooting stars falling down into the ground from afar. A shrieking yet soothing sound echoed around the area every time a star fell. 

You look up to see an unusual shooting star, shining brighter than the others. You continue to look on in awe until you feel the the ring on your hand quivering again, slowly disintegrating.

You were preoccupied with the ring suddenly disappearing that you had not noticed the big and bright star had already fallen down the ground near you, closer than the others did. The rays of the star reflecting brighter and more scintillating than the others. It was drawing you in, like that of a beautiful phantasm. 

You notice someone from afar approaching the star that had fallen. 

A young striking boy with half white and half red hair, his eyes shining bright different colored hues and his presence, even from afar, was so comforting to you.

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. The man you want to save, the one who made you feel like yourself again, the one who loved you for who you are even though you transformed into an 80 year old grandma with a back problem. He has loved you in your darkest times. He has loved you for who you are. 

Will you be there to love him back? Just like he had loved you? 

You continue to watch the boy go around the star, examining it ever so curiously. From there, you feel the emotions that Shoto was feeling at the moment.

You could sense the loneliness and the feeling of isolation that Shoto Todoroki has felt all his life. 

“That’s Shoto...” You whisper once again, continuing to watch him from where you were standing.

 More and more shooting stars fly through the night sky, and you instinctively knew that something was going to happen.

You run down the stairs and sprint your way towards Shoto, ignoring the stars  falling down into the ponds, taking forms of dancing wisps, then changing into running pigmy as if they were trying to reach Shoto. 

Shooting stars begin to fall around you, barely missing you yet you continued to run with no care in the world. Saving Shoto was the only thing going on in your head at the moment and nothing will stop you from doing so. Something in the grass had pulled on your heel, causing you to fall and flail on the ground. The half and half prince was a small pond away from you yet a dark oozing liquid was taking a hold of you from below, preventing you from doing so.

Before it fully took a hold of both your feet, You quickly stand up from the ground, stomping your feet then backing away quickly. Another shooting star falls down from the sky, and you watch as it swiftly falls into Shoto’s hands. 

The sound of the fallen star shrieks and tingles your ears, and you had no choice but to watch in agony as the little Shoto begins to move his lips, talking to the demon known as Calcifer. He had a small smile on his face as he continued to speak. There was so much hope and innocence in his eyes, he was so excited to receive his magical abilities, blissfully unaware that he was about to make a deal that would be the cost of his humanity and his heart. 

All he wanted was to see family and go to places he’s always dreamed of. 

Was that too much to ask for?

Shoto slowly but surely, brings the demon into his mouth. There was slight hesitance but he gobbled it up then swallowed it. He felt a tinging pain as he clutches both of his hands to his chest, then coughing up Calcifer who had now become his heart. 

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped. 

You continue to look on but before you could try and run to him again...

Your ring shatters. 

A black hole appears from below your feet, slowly sucking you in. You try to move but your body doesn’t want to. Keeping you still, your legs swinging, as if you were in a body of water. All the color around you begins to fade to black, and so does Shoto and Calcifer. 

You turn to look at them once more, hoping they would hear you. Reaching your hand out to them. 

“Shoto! Calcifer!” In a last minute attempt to get them to notice you, You shout with all your might, tears welling up in your eyes again. 

The boy and the demon turn to you with doe eyes, catching your voice yet barely recognizing who you were and why you were there. The young Shoto continues to look at you, still wondering who you were, cupping Calcifer in his hands. 

“It’s me (Y/N)! I know how to help you now!” Shoto and Calcifer ceaselessly fade away, as you are consumed by the darkness.

“Find me in the future!”

Mundane life and a mundane everyday routine.

 Sew some hats, manage the store, hop on the bus, visit your popular sister in the bakery she works in and then head on home. 

This was your life.

Did you want it to change? Yes. But, did you have the will and the magical powers to do so? No. 

“It’s your life (Y/N). Do something for yourself for once will you?” 

The words of your sister will haunt you for the rest of the day. Well, She is right. But, this was your life. It was dull and uneventful. If this was your fate so be it. There was no point in trying to make it interesting at this point right?

You walk back on your usual route to the station, however, you had to rendezvous to another way to the station due to a road block. Guess life wasn’t being kind to your today isn’t it?

You pass by two soldier guards in an alley to the station. They looked bored and had nothing better to do and you had no intention of mingling with them, even if your sister told you to try and talk to more people.

“What a pretty girl. Want us to take you for some tea?” One of the guards attempt to flirt with you, trying to block your way. The other guard snickers at his friend’s tease.

“No. Please leave me alone.” You deadpan. Glaring at them and trying to let them know that they were crossing the line. 

“Oh you see. Ya scared her!” said the other guard, nudging his friend.

“I think she’s even cuter when she’s scared.” The guard replied, hitting his friend on the shoulder. 

You were about to run to the other direction when you hear a crisp and handsome voice from behind you, and a reassuring hand on your arm.

“There you are sweetheart. Sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you.” 

To be continued.

[bbnibini]

eight: smoke and mirrors**

“But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.”― Madeline Miller, Circe

Reading was difficult to do in the darkness, even for an Angel of Death. Samael sat beside scrolls and tomes in his breaks, singing poetry to the Dianthus as they bloomed; to  Leviathan as well—the little god was cradled in his arms, fast asleep as he sang the last syllables of the stanzas he had fashioned into lyrics, hoping that doing so would make him understand what it meant. But its meaning remained elusive. The story Christopher lent to him carried the same sentiments—human ceremonies to him were only words on a page, and the concept of destiny is something that didn't seem to apply to him. Rather, he should have been the one to bestow it. He remembered asking El that question before when he was little:

"Why do we do all of this?"

"Why am I death if I will never die?"

And El could only smile vaguely at him and say, "It doesn't matter. It's just who we are."

"Simeon" was a convenient vessel. Often, he wandered in the mortal realm to experience humanity, as Christopher would tell him excitedly over bed—the sickly human would mutter his half-asleep wishes every time he returned a scroll, and he would hold his vessel's hand while calling another name.

"Lily." Even the name she chose to use as her guise couldn't help elicit a reaction from him. Samael held his breath as he felt petals upon petals of flowers seemingly bloom in his throat and fill his lungs as he swallowed. Each heartbeat scattered petals around him, and he could see her standing in front of him when he breathed again, but her lovely green eyes weren't focused on his. 

"Were you able to go to the wedding? It was beautiful, wasn't it?"

Samael didn't speak. He placed the scrolls near his bed and attempted to leave, but in Christopher's dreams, he was holding his hand which he thought was hers, so he didn't let go.

"You would be a beautiful bride, Lily…so…"

Samael felt his stomach knot at the human's words—he read about weddings in his many scrolls and stories; it was a day when humans were the happiest. Soulmates bound by destiny would be one in flesh. El would bind their lives to each other, and no man may separate them. 

He stood beside Christopher—still as water, breathless…

"I would like to see you as a bride, Lily."

…and felt like he had drowned in cold water. Suddenly, everything made sense.

He wished it didn't.

What does being in love mean?

Are these the stolen glances that shy away at the slightest recognition? Or are they the thoughtful sips she had on a water goblet, in fear of another drunken whisper? The brushing of his hand on her golden hair as he placed a flower crown on her head—her avoidant glances and emerald eyes on the floor as her lips curved into a small smile, whispering his name?

Was it the way his heart beats when she enters the room or was it the hollowness in his chest as she leaves it? The tender way he wanted to brush away the eyelash caught in the corner of her eye, in fear that his touch would cause her harm? Was it the songs they shared in the darkness, her hand squeezing his as he held his realm’s first flower so gently and tenderly in fear it may break?

When his poems described love to be a seed, he wished he could grow it in his domain so the hopes of it ever blooming would never come. For he would never sing to it the songs revered by the mortals, nor would it know the secret words he kept in his heart. 

"I would like to see you as a bride, Lily "

He saw Lilith standing beside Christopher, holding his hand, and remembered her liquored whispers in his ears over the Dianthus field.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Samael shook his head, but he saw it. Her emerald eyes gazed tenderly at Christopher’s sleeping figure, petal after petal, making him choke in his words and say nothing. He saw her lean her face near the sleeping man’s ear, half a smile. Her lips pressed on his forehead as he stirred in his sleep, and she sat beside him, holding his hand. Samael closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, it was only he and Christopher—he finally let him go. Samael sighed in relief, looking down—petals nowhere in sight. 

"I've made a friend. A human friend."

"Lilith, do you ever want to get married?"

Some nectar spilt on the hem of his cloak. When he looked to her side, he could see some of it dripping down the corner of her lips. He hurriedly apologised, and reached out his hand–

"I-I'm fine…" Lilith whispered, backing away; a blushing pink under the star lantern, eyes downcast. His chest tightened yet he still held his breath.

"How did you learn about marriage, Lord Samael?"

Lord.

Even after his earnest request. Had she forgotten? He wanted to ask but he did not correct her.

"Belfagel writes to me sometimes," not quite the truth, but not a lie either. "It's a most intriguing ceremony in the mortal realm. I just thought it was interesting."

"Haha…I see….

..

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Uhmm…I guess I never really thought about it!"

Another lie, he knew. But he didn't pry any further. 

"It is an unfathomable concept to us, isn't it? But to humans, it's one of the most important days of their lives."

He saw Lilith bite her lip at his words

.

.

.

.

Falling in love with a human is taboo. Even if her feelings are returned, Christopher's death is looming and they wouldn't have much time left. But…

…if it's what makes Lilith happy…

"Lord Samael?"

Lord again. He inhaled sharply. 

"Yes, Lilith?"

She was hesitant to speak. But words eventually came out of her mouth, "What about you? Have you ever thought of marriage?"

The darkness around him seemed to stir. Was he able to keep himself together? What did he look like in her eyes? Or did it not matter? 

Samael sighed as he took a sip of nectar, directing his eyes toward the sea. 

"... wouldn't it be unthinkable of me?" He didn't expect himself to sound so bitter. Lilith didn't say anything, so he continued. "Rather…I couldn't. And would not."

"...You couldn’t?" Lilith raised her voice, biting her lip as she asked him again. “Why not?”

"It's just how it is," He said, realising he said the same words El had, so he tried to elaborate. "Like you, I never really thought about it."

"Ah…" She said, their silence stretching over the horizon. 

He used to feel peaceful in their drawn-out silence—they used to understand each other enough that no words needed to be spoken. So when did it start? When did the walls start to form? Why would she venture into the darkness when Leviathan wasn’t around? He waited. Waited for her to say something. Waited for her for days on end. But each silent day, each restless night where she didn’t say a word made him fear for her—of a day when she would eventually be caught. Each tender story and each stanza in Christopher’s scrolls, each anecdote and each trace of her he covered pierced his chest and made him see a grim future. She would stand in front of the Council of Angels as Lucifer pounded the gavel and issued her sentence. And he would be there, sitting amongst the seraphim, looking helplessly. 

It was getting harder to breathe as the waves continued being the only sound he could hear in the darkness. When he finally managed to utter a word, he tried to break the silence. 

"You would make a beautiful bride, Lilith." He heard her gasp, her goblet clinking as she drank water from the cold pitcher. 

“W-why…all of a sudden…?”

…He couldn't do it. 

He couldn't wait anymore.

.

.

.

.

.

It had to stop.

"Lilith…I know about him. About Christopher."

"..."

"...tell me what I can do for you. I'll always be on your side."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

L-Lilith?" He felt his heart shatter into pieces at the sight of her tears. He gingerly held out his hand and tried to wipe them away, but she continued to sob. 

"I'm sorry! I–"

"Samael." Her voice sounded frustrated. Clear emerald eyes looked at him with a burning gaze. "No…this is all my fault."

Samael . She was back. His Lilith. He held her in his arms as he stroked her hair.

“Hush,” he said, sighing in relief when she finally calmed down a little. From the distance, he could see Christopher looking at him; soft brown eyes and a peaceful smile.

He approached the First Angel and whispered in his ear. “Don’t be cruel, Samael. Stay in your lane.”

“I know,” He whispered back, ignoring his heartbeats and the flowers in his chest.

“I know,” he said again, and Christopher was gone. 

“Samael?” Lilith looked up at him, her puffy eyes upturned and confused. 

He smiled.

This was enough for him.

"Smoke and mirrors? Just who are you trying to deceive, Balladeer?"

Scaramouche laughed as he placed down his quill, his hand leaning on his chin as he turned to his companion.

"There are many players in this story: there's the doomed lovers, the onlooker who didn't know anything. And then there's also the fool, thinking they are way above the narrative when they were the centre of it all along."

"Just say it's for the third one then." His companion sighed, resigning himself to Scaramouche's whimsy. Scaramouche turned back to his chair once he had answered his question, and placed the tip of his inked quill on a new, blank page.

🌼masterlist 🌼next chapter

[sopxhiea]

Moirai

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The mysterious niece runs into Alfie in her uncle’s office and she expertly plays it cool until she’s pulled away by his strong grip and the night has more in store than she’s bargained for.

Warnings: Age gap.

Part 1

“Fine. You win.”

“Are you blushing or cold?”

The deep colored oak desk is illuminated by the sunlight coming through the open window, the room is quiet as dust gathers on the many shelves that decorate the place. The space is mostly filled with books, torn out old covers with faded colors and it’s obvious that the furniture around is aged except the large table that resides in the corner.

It stands out, much like you do.

A low tune plays from the record player in the office, next to the assistant’s desk as she types the day away. The boss is away in Birmingham, brushing shoulders with dirty faced gangster even though he’s very much one of them. There’s no chatter inside the walls today, nor the voice of the golden haired lady’s heels clicking against the hard surface.

The boss isn’t supposed to come back for another two hours.

The weather is chilly, grey sky bestowed upon the citizens around as the large coat you have on hugs you tight. Your uncle’s office is empty for the day, as far you know which means you’re more than welcome to stop by to get some work done. As much as the men around London despise the idea of a woman getting education, your uncle is aware of your potential.

The boots on your feet are meant for men, heavy and dense as you stomp away. The days are shorter due to the weather and it will get dark in a couple hours as far as you’re aware, but that doesn’t stop you from making an unwanted visit to your uncle’s office.

He’s a criminal with gold wrapped around his fingers. Not many are content with the men and even though he tends to get the approval of the higher class in London, it’s not hard to recognise the distaste the working class have for him. He’s a gangster, a good one at that.

He’s your family.

It’s not by choice, that much you accept. Years of being alone on end make him seem like an angel sorts, someone to rescue you from the hellhole you’d been in for the first seven years of your life. It looks different from the outside, you know that it does which makes you realise just how easy it is to trick people around here.

From the outside, you look like a pearl wrapped in cotton with flowers carefully placed around you. Most people do not approach you unless you make the first move, perks of having a powerful man as your only family. It’s easy to point out that your features belong somewhere else on the map and not the dirty roads of London.

You spare one last glance to the dim colored sky before barging into the building that your uncle redeems as his. Its walls are made of brick, one on top of the other that make up a three story building that occupies most of the side of the street its on.

It’s easy to recognise, Alfie thinks.

The sound of your heavy boots against the hard floor are easy to recognise but it’s too late for you to lighten your steps when Martha, your uncle’s trusted assistant, calls your name. You sigh then, a grunt leaving your mouth and you curse at yourself for being so careless for once.

Walking through the large corridor, you face the old lady as she looks at you through her smudged glasses. That color of pink on her lips is far too vibrant on her lips, you think as she sizes you up. 

You’re not conventionally dressed but she’s used to your choice of clothing.

“Hello Y/N.” she speaks, her voice a little shushed when compared to normal but you’re too busy fixing your long dress to realise that there’s a reason for her quiet attitude.

You lift your head to look up at her again, no longer pulling at your dress as she gives you an uninterested look, the usual treatment. Your lips part, a playful smile on your lips but before you can let out a word, the door of the gathering space opens with a loud sound.

It’s him, you gather as you stare at his hat.

There’s gold on his fingers and a crown tattoo. It’s easy to recognise him, you think, his hat is peculiarly shaped and the rhythm of his steps is far too unusual for a normal person. There’s flour on his sleeves, the kind that looks like he’s been laying in it for a while.

His hat creates a shadow over his eyes so you miss the evident look of surprise in them but he’s quick to take it off. He’d been bothering Martha for a while, asking when the beloved boss would return since their deal was now ‘off’ due to a couple complications in the process.

When in fact, Alfie is directly betraying him.

He watches your eyes glisten as the sunset is bestowed upon the sky. Short strands of hair fall around your face from the braid, the braid that had your friend pulling at your hair for the entirety of breakfast. He finds himself to be too intrigued at the sight of you to actually speak but he’s fast to recover.

“’ello, lass.” he says, the words echo in your mind before you can answer. Martha isn’t daft, she catches onto the way you stare up at the man but before she can say anything, you speak with a plastered smile.

“Hello, Mr. Solomons.” your voice is soft against the air around as you look up at him. There’s mischief in your eyes mixed with a glint of innocence, the kind of thing that could easily mess a man of Alfie’s wrath.

You hadn’t gone the address he’d sent you.

It was easy to make up excuses: you were busy with school and simply swarmed with work. You ignored the heat rising to your cheeks and gave him your softest smile while Martha eyed the both fo you, it was obvious that whatever you and Alfie had was doomed from the start.

Your uncle was a sheltered man and had raised you the same way. No boyfriends until you wanted to marry someone, only talk to men your uncle had assigned you for protection and if you were to go out, you informed him a week before.

But he wasn’t as sharp as he liked to believe.

You did things that would simply torture the man, from sneaking out to man’s apartments to dancing intimately with strangers. The city was fun at night, when it was supposed to sleeping seemed to be the only time the groggy streets felt alive to you.

And through years of sneaking around and lying almost too expertly, no one knew what you did. You’d have a different fake name, a different set of friends and a whole new part of town each week so things didn’t get messed up. It was a perk of being closely related to a gangster of your uncle’s power.

Martha knew how intense your uncle was when it came to you making contact with men, let alone a known brutal man like Alfie so she stood up and smiled softly, threat evident in her eyes as she spoke to you under her breath.

“Why don’t you go to the office, dear?” she speaks through her teeth and Alfie couldn’t hear but your eyes don’t leave his, if anything this was highly amusing.

And you wanted to talk to the men.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll keep Mr. Solomons company while he waits for uncle.” you spoke, looking directly into Martha’s eyes while speaking in a tone that was loud enough for everyone to hear.

She doesn’t say anything, she just backs off.

As cautious as your uncle had been with you, there were two sides to the story. Behind closed doors, he would get mad at you and scold you as much as he could while remaining as gentle as possible but in front of those very doors, he’d have your back and protect you that made most people frightened. He was allowed to get mad at you since you were his niece, but that was a privilege only he had in his hands.

Much to Alfie’s surprise, you shoot him a smirk through the smile you had on and ignore the old assistant. He doesn’t flinch when your hand comes in contact with his arm but there is a wave of alarm in his eyes. He knows your uncle will have Alfie’s scalp in his hands if he doesn’t behave well around you, he’ll try anyway.

Soon, you both find yourself in the dusty room that your uncle so graciously gave you when you had asked for a place to do some work and reading. Standing in the middle of the room, you slowly take your coat off while Martha keeps the door open and mutters something under her breath about making some tea for you and the gentlemen you offered to entertain while he waits for business.

But you don’t ignore the elephant in the room since he’s already gawking at you. You stare back instead. The ghost of a smile pulls at the ends of your lips as his eyes reek over your body, he isn’t subtle to say the least. Glancing at Ollie through the open door, you watch him for a moment as he talks to Martha but your observations are cut short when you hear his voice.

“You ain’t visited me yet, aye?” he speaks, talking about the address he had sent you and you know you can take this two ways. You decide on the fun way. 

He sits in front of the desk and you take the opportunity to lean on the wooden material and have a look at his features. He still looks as handsome, but you don’t give in that easily. You shake your head and he watches the ends of your dress move with the small breeze that comes in from the open door. For all you know, Martha is listening.

“Is that why you’re here?” you speak, words filled with something other than curiosity. Lust, he thinks. He sees the familiar glint of insanity in your orbs and he’s aware of the little game you’re playing behind your uncle but much like you, he isn’t keen on giving in so easily.

“Nah, just business.” he says, voice heavy as it fills the walls. You nod, a few times more than you should before getting comfy on the desk. 

Your eyes glisten before you speak, so he has been waiting for you. Just no matter how interesting this rugged man seemed, there were certain lines you wouldn’t cross and going to an unknown address given by a stranger was one of the many lines you were taught to beware of.

Although it all worked out for the best.

The stranger that had invited you to the location was looking at you now, with hungry eyes for things he wasn’t able to have. You knew men like Alfie, ones who had a superiority complex or it seemed that way from the outside. The kind of men who got whatever they wanted since there was immense blood in their hands.

“So you waited then, hm?” you ask, eyes looking up and down his built figure as he stands before you, he had gotten up when you’d taken a minute to look out the door to see where Martha was since she was usually keen on listening.

“Seein’ as it’s my fuckin’ work place, yeah, can’t say I have, luv.” he speaks, talking about the peculiar address he’d given which you now realise was his work place. 

So he could be trusted after all.

You sigh, this game is highly amusing for you. It’s easy to make up the lines of how this is going to go but it could go so wrong all of a sudden. You want it to, this stranger seems to be a kind one you wouldn’t mind getting under. His eyes watch as you lick your lips, not aware that he’s watching while he observes you in all your wrath since your uncle isn’t around here. Alfie can tell you’re a wolf in mere sheep’s clothing.

“Fine. You win.” You shake your head as you speak. You need to know whether this man wants the things you do, even though you’re sure he does. He’s not to be toyed around with and you recognise the blood on his hands for that matter.

He walks a little closer, close enough for your chest to be almost brushing his figure but he’s entirely too tall. You don’t glance up while your next words fill the air, voice soft to lure him into the fantasy you want to live, no matter how short lived it will end up being.

“What you want?” you ask, eyes looking up to meet his handsome face as he looks down at you in an expression you can’t quite solve. The question hangs around the air while the breeze from the open door gets a little strong.

He sees no reason to ponder around, he knows the old assistant will be around the corner with her peering eyes in a second and this will be the scarce moment he’ll have with you. He doesn’t beat around the bush anyway.

“Ya’ know what.” he says, easy as that and you do, now you’ve learned what he wants.

But it’s not so easy to get it.

It’s the forbidden fruit situation all over again, you know it is. He’s a man with power, the kind of authority that’s able to shake a grown man to his very own core. He has blood on his hands even though his golden beard contradicts the very image that’s created by everything about him. He knows he’s dangerous and so is this situation but you’re no forbidden fruit.

Your uncle has taken all kinds of measures to make sure you’re the best you can be. It’s not like you’re a regular citizen, it’s obvious in your features that you belong somewhere else in the map but there’s the kind of elegance that comes with your bloodline, excluding your uncle who happens to be a gangster.

You take a large step back from his built form, clearing your throat when Martha comes in with a tray in her hands. You see the look he’s giving you and she does, too. You know she’ll rat this out to your uncle but you’ve always made sure he stays on your side so you see no problem with it.

Offering the assistant the widest fake smile you can muster up, you wait until she leaves to speak. It’s a thin line you’re dancing on but it’s a familiar one to you which is why there’s a faint smile on your lips as you speak.

“I’ll let you get on with your business, since that’s all you’re here for, Mr. Solomons.” you speak, watching the way something along the lines of frustration and arousal come over him. You know he thought you’d let him have you against the desk, it seems like the plausible answer from any logical lady whom he’s offered the pleasure but he failed to see the silver lining. You don’t happen to be a logical lady.

He sees the devil behind your eyes and it brings a smirk to his face. It seems as though you’ll be haunting him for a while.

You hear Martha talk about uncle’s car being parked outside to Ollie and you get up at a slower pace than he’d expect and wear your coat over the dress again. You know there are manners your uncle has tried to teach you and covering up in front of a stranger is one of them, or so you think.

He watches as you walk towards the door, waiting like a little kid for your uncle. There’s a flip side to your coin, he gathers. The innocent little jewel who’s been protected all her life also happens to be dancing with the devil for a while, he can see it in your eyes. 

You watch Alfie walk by, touching your waist gently when he has to pass by you to get through the door. You see the way his beard covers up his bothered face and since your uncle is about to arrive and have a meeting with him, why not rile him up further?

A childish smile finds your lips and you hold his arm as an attempt to make him look down at you so you see eye to eye, which works due to the unfamiliar sensation. He lifts his eyebrows, telling you to go ahead and speak and you do but you don’t realise your uncle has been watching your strange interaction with one of the most dangerous man you could find around here.

“Are you blushing or cold?” you speak, fighting giggles as you look up at the man. Alfie opens his mouth to say something but before he can greet your amused face with his playful words, you catch you uncle’s eyes. He clears his throat and you immediately let go of Alfie’s arm, smiling at the old man as he looks at you and Alfie.

Looking like a child caught red-handed, you offer your uncle a small hello but he’s dismissive of it. It’s unclear to you whether he’s in a mood or he saw something he shouldn’t have seen just now. Alfie seems unfazed as he looks down at your little, the devil behind your eyes long gone as you look at your uncle and then Alfie.

“Mr. Solomons..” your uncle speaks, not sparing a glance at you while his eyes size Alfie up. Your gaze moves to the large man next to you as he tips his hat at your uncle as a way of greeting him.

“Shall we start discussing the deal in my office?” your uncle asks but you know better than to assume it’s an invitation, it’s more of an order.

Alfie mutters something unintelligible and turns his gaze to you. You offer him a formal smile this time, everyone is watching so he figures it’s his time to make you blush.

He takes your hand in his and your eyes shoot up, you see your uncle watching hesitantly but Alfie is far too powerful for him to scold the man like he scolds you. Alfie’s plump lips come in contact with your hand as he kisses the back of it gently. A small smirk plays on his lips as you gather the game he’s playing.

“Always a pleasure, luv.” he says, finding his true self to be a gentlemen at the given moment as you stare at him with heavy eyes.

You smile then, the kind of smile that he’d remember when he went to bed at night. You know he’ll be waiting for you in the address he gave you the first time he met you from the way he’s behaving, he isn’t keen on giving up that easily this time.

The territory is familiar to you but it takes two to do this and the other player is foreign territory. A gangster, someone with blood on their hands as it grips the golden rings around his calloused fingers. It perks up your curiosity, the thrill of being with someone so powerful. 

He knows you’re protected. There are two guards with you wherever you go, your uncle’s gift to you on your birthday. He knows you live in a mansion of sorts with too many people around so sneaking in is not a choice. 

But he’s tempted to say the least.

He wants to dance with the devil you hide so well, to feel her touch against his skin under the moonlight. He knows you have your ways around the city and men, too. He also knows that your uncle will try to cut his balls off if he hears even the possibility of the things Alfie wants to do to you but you don’t find in yourself to care.

He knows you’ll come around this time.

Your soft voice plays at a tone only he can hear and he listens with his ears perked up before he goes into your uncle’s office and you go off on your own way. “Pleasure’s all mine.” 

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum a/n: This is a little too late :) but i just got done with some project deliveries and I truly do hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you thought of the chapter and if you’d like to be tagged <3

(If i’m forgetting to tag you, please lemme know!)