#this is so lazy but as you can tell i cannot draw flowers

[archerdepartures116]

I would like to offer these flowers to Mu Qingfang as a thank you for all of his hard work. 🌻🌷🪻

[leiascully]

Fic: Inosculation (M, MSR)

600 words; M for sexual situations and body horror; monsterfucking but they're both monsters (based on @brenayla's cryptid stories) (ao3)

When Scully fucks him, it’s a supernova.

She comes to him wrapped in layers of flame and he peels them off one by one, drops them to shatter on the floor. Her skin is velvet. Her skin is ice, dripping onto him. She tastes like iron under his lips and she burns him. He presses closer. He always presses closer. She laces her fingers through his ribs and tugs and he grins. She loves him.

Pain and pleasure are the same thing to them. Light and time and wet are the same feeling. Hot and cold are the same and her touch freezes him. He is hard under her. She can pull him into filaments like wire. Her eyes eat the skin off his face and her tongue restores it. She is smooth against him. If he strokes her the wrong way, the razor edges of her overlapping scales draw blood.

He moans into the hollow of her just to hear it echo. The reverberations makes his teeth ache. When he kisses her, he can feel the marrow of his bones and the blood swishing through his veins. The glow of her irradiates him. If he holds her for too long, his teeth fall out one by one. She presses them into her own skin, makes her wrist a serrated knife to hold against his throat. He tips his head back for her.

Mark me, he says without words.

She pushes her hands through his hair and leaves the prints of her fingers on his skull. He licks at her. His tongue drags over her pumice rock skin. Lights dance behind her eyes as she watches him.

She likes to watch him.

Under his mouth, she is the universe. He tastes earth at the center of her. She moans like a bellows. He is burned to ash. He trickles down her body. She cups her hands to catch him and molds him back into shape. He is un/made in her image. He becomes what she needs. When he speaks, it’s a prayer of gratitude. She licks the music out of the air. He feels the inside of her throat.

Her teeth tear at him. Her face is a wolf’s muzzle, a griffon’s beak. She swallows a chunk of his shoulder. He traces its path through her body. Peristalsis pulls him deeper into her, the long muscles of her esophagus contracting. She concentrates for a moment. His meat becomes her cock, sheathed in her skin. He is kneeling for her, spread wide for her. She shoves into him and his heart leaps. She fucks him like a hurricane.

And oh oh oh, in the eye of the storm there is no Scully and there is no Mulder. They are the universe. They are the stars, panting hot in the emptiness. When she moans, it’s celestial music. It shakes the ground. They expand through physical space (bed, walls, road, river). They subsume other bodies, other consciousnesses. In the night, someone cries out in fear and ecstasy and doesn’t know why. They contract again, cleaving in two: Mulder or Scully, unentwined like strands of DNA unzipping, like atoms splitting. Frost flowers over their bodies. They sweat mercury and it balls on the floor.

He is whole. He is empty. Her fluids leak out of him. She drags a lazy tongue over his skin. Heat hisses.

I love you, she says. Every pipe in their building creaks with the sincerity in her voice. He rolls her over, pins her, shows her how he loves her with lips and tongue and teeth. She binds him to her with whip-thin tentacles, an inosculation so complete he cannot tell where he ends and she begins.

Somewhere, in the darkness, a star sparks into being, vicious with light.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 1 - Flowerbed

"Mashita, do you really think we'll find any clues, this deep into the forest?" Yashiki asked his partner, sighing. It was already very late into the night, and he already had first-hand experience into what it is like, searching around aimlessly, with a flashlight alone, and the fear of ghosts breathing into the back of their neck. "Not much we can do about it." Mashita was curt. "Unless you're suddenly afraid of the dark, I see no reason why we should back off already." "We have found absolutely nothing." Yashiki completely ignored the ex-detective's snarky sarcasm. "Do you want me to hold your hand so badly?" Yashiki needn't even look at his partner's face to see that shit-eating smirk. "You're incorrigible." Kazuo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. As soon as he swung his lantern aimlessly and rather bored, he stole a glimpse of red velvet ribbons on the ground, blending in with the deep green grass. "Mashita, over here!" he whisper-yelled, adjusting the fascicle of light to put in the spotlight the thing that he had seen. "... Is that a woman?" Satoru frowned, rushing to crouch by her side. Even now, his policeman instincts didn't dim.

He took a quick look at her - A rather attractive young woman, most likely in her twenties, long red hair, pale skin, yet the flush of life was clearly painting her flesh. She was dressed in a beautiful dark blue dress, the skirt flowing down her mid-thigh. It had a constellation-like pattern. She seemed to have no signs of having been attacked in any way - In fact, she looked as though she had just fallen asleep peacefully on the soft grass. Next to her were laying a few different types of flowers and a large book - She seemed to have been drawing the flowers onto the yellowing pages and writing information about them. Some plants were also already taped and pressed between its pages. Interesting hobby, he thought. 

"She's been cursed." it didn't take Satoru long to notice that abysmal scar that ruined her otherwise flawless skin. The Death Mark, looking as though it was tattooed onto the side of her neck. "Do you think this is also the work of Shimi-O?" "Do you think she wanted to kill herself, then?" Satoru frowned - And for some reason, despite his mind telling him that he shouldn't dismiss any possible theory - He found himself shaking his head negatively. Was it his intuition? Or, perhaps, the little hints that the 'crime scene' narrated its unique story? As the two men shared looks between them, they barely noticed the woman stirring awake. With lazy lashes, she opened her eyes. Despite her confusion - Why was she on the ground? Why was she sleeping? Why was it so dark outside? - There was a worse evil out there. The two men staring down at her. At once, the red haired woman whimpered and jumped to her feet, stumbling due to the vertigo caused by the sudden move, and she hid behind some tree, seemingly ready to bolt off into the depths of the woods and search for the main street. 

"Calm down, miss. We won't hurt you. I work in the law enforcement." but Mashita's attempt at reassuring her worked for naught - She looked even more scared. Even through the darkness, he could see the gleaming of fright sparkling in her eyes. She looked so much like a scared baby fawn that it was almost made him feel pity. The amount of cases he had, revolving around women assaulted and/or killed by men were countless, and there were not few cases of law enforcement workers abusing their power. He soon realised there might be nothing he says that could calm her down and listen to him properly - After all, how could someone paralysed with fear believe such a silly ghost story, especially when your mark is in a place where you cannot see, such as himself and Yashiki, scarred on their wrist? "Miss, please, don't run away, we need to warn y--" Yashiki tried to reach out to the woman, only to get stopped by the ex-detective. "Don't." the brunet warned him sternly.

Slowly, Mashita took out a ripped piece of paper and a pen from his coat, and he scribbled something that Yashiki had no idea what it was - He reached out to her bag and placed the note inside, before closing it and leaving it on the ground. He then carefully got up and stepped backwards, dragging his partner with him. "Miss. If you see a scar on the side of your neck or experience amnesia or any kind of loss of memory and confusion, look for me. I gave you the address to my office. I can help you." with this explanation, he noticed the red locks coming out from behind the tree, and she peeked timidly as they walked away all the way from where they came from. "Are you sure that was the right call?" Yashiki asked. "Can we save her?" "If she was cursed by Shimi-O, then whether she comes by seeking help or not, is irrelevant. We're going to purify it anyway." contrary to the serious and weirdly careful and empathetic side that he displayed just previously, Mashita had returned to that aloof and stoic self. Well, it was far more reassuring, knowing he's back to that sarcastic jerk he met him as, back at the school.

Watching the two men leave her sight, the woman spazzically scurried to her bag and ran out of the forest, all the way back to her home. It was so far away into the city - Why in the world would she go on foot so far away? Was she kidnapped? But... She wasn't hurt at all... It hardly made sense. Could that man truly have been a policeman and he saved her? And what about that scar thing he spoke of? Her skin didn't hurt, why would she have a scar?

No, it mattered little, she felt extremely shaken up, to the point that the only thing she could do was huddle under the blanket, her lights on the whole time, with some relaxing music on the radio and for the first time in her life, she prayed that she will never again experience such fright. The only comfort she had left in this life was a plushie with which she's been sleeping since she was three years old. Her mother gifted it to her on her birthday, and it was her most precious possession.

She missed her mummy so much.

Perhaps, for the night, after such a creepy encounter, she could afford to be a little, whiny crybaby and wallow in self-pity. But only until tomorrow morning. Then, she will be back to her proper self, and will go to work, and life will return back to normal.

Or so she hoped.

Unlike the way she expected her morning to go, settling in to her usual routine, as soon as she entered the bathroom and looked in the mirror, she noticed not the bags under her eyes, nor the messy look of her untamed hair - Instead, her green eyes stared with horror at the intricate mark that branded the soft skin on her neck as if she was cattle. The design almost looked like a large beast-like bite. She felt terrified - Was this what that man warned her about the previous night? Does that mean he is trust-worthy?

The woman took a deep breath, stopping herself from trembling under the sheer pressure of the unknown, and got ready to go out. Before she left though, she wanted to call a sick day at work - But she completely forgot where she worked. How could that be possible? She wasn't unemployed, was she? No, she couldn't be. She remembers waking up every morning to go to work, and she remembers vividly a lot of animals, and the cute outfits she wore. By instinct, she went to her bag, and there she saw the familiar medical costume - The cutest light blue outfit filled with little pandas. A rather adorable design... But she made it. Yes, she remembers sewing this costume, as well as all the other costumes. Now she remembers her graduation day - She was a Veterinarian Doctor.

With this little mystery unveiled, she was able to call in sick, and stared at the piece of paper in her hand - The scribbling was rather messy, but readable. She could give the address to the taxi driver and see where that got her - Hopefully, she wouldn't end up in some kind of weird back alley or some criminal neighbourhood.  Thankfully, that wasn't the case, though she doubted this place was actually the man's office. Rather, his residence. But it didn't matter anymore, she needed answers, and more than that, she needed to solve this issue before it could disturb her day to day life. Not only she forgot her workplace, but she had that nasty scar too - That man warned her about it, so she had to be careful.

Not forgetting to pay the driver, she looked up at the block in front of her - It wasn't an expensive neighbourhood, but it wasn't the cheapest either. It at least didn't creep her out, nor necessarily gave her bad vibes. There were some children playing around in the park nearby, and enough people going up and down the street, like bees going to do their errands. With one more look at the paper, she went up to the block and took the elevator to the seventh floor, before stepping in front of the apartment, and she rang the bell.

She didn't have to wait for too long. As soon as the door opened, the detective appeared in the door frame. His hair was far messier than the night before, and he was wearing his coat no more, but his shirt, half-unbuttoned, and with his sleeves rolled up. He looked down at the red haired woman, watching her shift uncomfortably under his fixed gaze, as she cleared her throat. She couldn't pick a better time to come by, could she? She just had to come now, when he was in the middle of work and he looked completely disheveled and unlike any trust earning detective.

Sighing, the man ran his hand through his hair and stepped out of the door, nodding at her to get inside. "Forgive the intrusion." her voice sounded so eerily calm now, as opposed to the previous night, it almost surprised the man. "I invited you over. It was a mistake on my part that I didn't expect you so soon." he closed the door, guiding her to the living room. "Coffee?" "Yes, please. Milk and sugar if you can." how demanding, Mashita almost smirked, going to the kitchen to prepare the coffee. It wasn't anything high quality, but it did the trick in keeping him awake when needed, at least. Though, he drank his coffee black, he was pleasantly surprised to see he still had some unspoiled milk and some sugar. Must be the habits that his mother reeled into him from an early age - Always keep the bare minimum and the non-perishable ingredients in your house, just in case you have nothing to eat and need to whip up something quick. Smart woman, his mother.

After a not so long wait, he brought the tray over to the small glass coffee table and served the beautiful woman sitting to stiff on the couch. She looked like a proper lady, her back straight as a pole, her hands placed over her lap, manicure perfectly clean and in a short cut, her legs were in a lady-like position, and there was no hair out of place from the hair-style she made for herself. Not even her earrings were dangling, but the gold and jewels of her rings and necklaces were softly glowing in the dim-light made by the light-bulb. He loved the way he could rotate the light switch and manipulate the light output.

Though a brighter room kept him awake, keeping a dimmer ambiance relaxed him and helped him work more efficiently. Even in this cheap light, however, the gorgeous hue of deep scarlet that her hair was seemed to be brightening up his bleak home. Even her soft chiffon dress that flowed and hugged her silhouette so perfectly, seemed to make her look like a gracious and elegant woman, though he couldn't help but be amused by the princess-like colour of it - The most delicate pearl pink. She looked like a doll, and as soon as he sat down on the armchair opposite of her, he could get a better look at her face too. Her make up was simple, yet the way her pink lips shone, and the twinkle of vitality in those green eyes of hers... Or was that mint? Turquoise? Aquamarine? That was a shade that he couldn't pin-point. Perhaps it changed with the light? Who knew.

Still, he must have appeared like the  most anti-social and awkward man on the planet, keeping quite and staring at her enough to make her even more uncomfortable - Though he doubted it was possible at that point - But at least she did a good enough job at keeping herself calm and unshakeable. She sipped from her coffee, gingerly holding the ugly porcelain tea cup - It really didn't suit her - But she seemed to be satisfied with the taste of the searing hot beverage. "I'm Mashita Satoru. Yesterday, I lied to you, claiming I work in law enforcement. In truth, I just recently left my job and now work as a private detective." the woman nodded at him in acknowledgement, thought she bothered naught to utter even a single word. Interesting. "Since you're here, you must have noticed the scar." she nodded. "What do you think about it?" "I don't like making baseless suppositions over things that I have no knowledge of. Medically speaking, it's a non-sensical enigma. The coagulation factors don't work so fast, nor do they affect only the lesion place alone - Provided that I had been carved... Rather, considering its placing, how would I get my skin cut so perfectly thin that the carotid artery didn't get severed? I would have died in 15 seconds from blood loss. Not only that, but the mark itself looks akin to an animal bite, but it's not 3-Dimensional, nor does it hurt, so it cannot be that either. And it's no tattoo, since there's no irritation or redness in the surrounding area of the skin... And it didn't get wiped away with water and soap either."  "So you're a medic." the woman nodded. No wonder. The way she spoke, so analytical and professional, it only made sense. "What is your name?" with a question alone, he was able to see the cracks in her composure. The slightest widening of her eyes, as well as her pupils darting to the side, made it obvious that she wasn't remembering the most basic of information about herself - Her own name. It wasn't a good indication of her state - Though he couldn't help but wonder how come she knew other things, but not her own name? Well, Yashiki wasn't too far off from her situation. Perhaps this curse is more mysterious than he thought.

The woman buried her hand into her rose-gold purse and took out a beautiful, feminine wallet. She took her ID card and gazed at the picture. Yes, that was her. "Hasashi Kisara... January 3rd... Born in Kyoto. I'm 25 years old." she spoke clearly, as though she was reciting some kind of poem for the first time. She nodded, as if she was agreeing with the information she was reading. "Yes, that sounds familiar." she said. "I work at the Veterinary Hospital in the city center. I called in for medical leave this morning to come here." "Do you remember why you were in the forest last night?" the man asked. He almost sounded like a therapist with his client. "Every weekend I go to the park or the forest to look for plants for my Botany book. I like flowers and have a particular interest in poisons and medicine from ancient times. I like to compare and see how far we've come, you see. I tape and press the plants to one page, draw it on the other, and write random trivia of all kinds about it - Whatever I find in books. Yesterday was a day like no other. I remember seeing the Sun setting though... And I remember wanting to go home before it got too late. Why have I not left, however, I do not know, nor why was I outright sleeping there." she explained - Mashita nodded. Her memory matched with what he had seen that night. "So you didn't want to kill yourself." he spoke, watching the confusion painting her beautiful face. "Why would I want to kill myself?" her voice came as a whisper. How precious. "If I told you that your scar came from a ghost that cursed you, would you believe me?" he asked. Her face twisted, cringing at the mere notion of the supernatural that defied all kinds of rationale - Though, after a few seconds, she sighed and closed her eyes, coming up with a semi-believable affirmative answer. "That forest is said to be home to many people who took their life. The ghost that resides in it is also said to curse those who are willing to kill themselves." "...You have no idea how much I want to make fun of what you're saying." the woman scoffed, and Satoru himself couldn't help but smirk.

"I am no different. I never believed in this crap either. But this is the second time I got cursed, and the only way I escaped alive the first time was thanks to my partner, who purified the ghost that had cursed me, and others." the uneasy expressions of disbelief that she was making were absolutely making his day better. "Fine. Even if I don't believe in ghosts - I have no choice but to, otherwise I'll die. So, to save myself, I have to purify this ghost, yes? How do I do that?" he was surprised with how well she took that information. For a woman who didn't even remember her name, she was rather level-headed. For now. "We investigate the area where the ghost is located, find more information about it and the circumstances of its death, then... We exorcise it, I suppose." it all must have sounded like a really bad horror-mystery movie. "Forgive me, I left my priestess outfit at home. Let me get my gohei and kagura suzu. Do I need some Buddhist holy beads too? A rosary, perhaps? Holy water? ... Ofuda talismans?" Satoru let out a small chuckle at her sarcastic and exaggerated response. "You'll need none of that, though if you really want to, we won't stop you." he said, and for some reason, her vibe changed. "You kept saying 'we'. Who is 'we'?" with a wry smile, Mashita showed her his mark. It was rather visible, and he was almost surprised she hadn't spotted it already. She must have been too focused on her fright, and he couldn't blame her. The whole situation as a whole was rather... Unbelievable. "Oh. I'm sorry." she muttered. "Then, that partner of yours. The one from last night. He, also...?" Satoru nodded. "... Are we the Ghostbusters now, or what?" "Might as well." he nodded. "I suggest you change into an outfit that's more appropriate to chasing around blindly through the thicket and running from ghosts." "At what time and place should we meet, then?" she asked.

After listening to Mashita's plan, Kisara got to her feet and walked towards the exit, the soft clink of her heels echoing rhythmically into his head. He never cared for the sound shoed made on the ground, but for some reason, he didn't quite mind this. As she stepped outside of his apartment and said her formal farewells, she stopped herself abruptly, before looking past her shoulder, right at him. "Thank you, Mr. Mashita. I owe you." It must have been that sweet voice of hers, or the sparkle in those vixen eyes that although looked so pretty, held some kind of twinkle of brilliance that he felt so attracted to - Or maybe it was that she didn't bother wasting time speaking non-sense, which in turn, transformed him into the rude, sarcastic jerk that people always describe him as... He didn't feel compelled to snark her, the same he does to Yashiki... And anyone else, for the matter. "Satoru." Her surprise showed for exactly a split second, and it was replaced by an enigmatic smile, with the tiniest hint of timidness. She shifted her gaze back forwards. "Kisara." she spoke out her name, before walking towards the elevator to leave. 

On first-name bases so quickly, Miss Hasashi? Mashita thought to himself, as he closed the door, stealing one last peek at the beautiful woman. What an interesting individual. For once, Satoru felt rather energetic and was looking forward to investigating this case together with her. She gave off an effortlessly confident and self-assured aura, calm and collected, and incredibly calculated - But in the face of supernatural dangers that made absolutely no sense and defied any law of rationality and logic, will she continue being so pragmatic and down to earth?

Oh. Mashita's eyes widened, before he found himself chuckling - Perhaps he should have given her the option of just staying in the comfort of her own home, away from any kind of threat - After all, his own life was bound to this very ghost, and had to purify it, otherwise, he'd die. Whether she's there to help with the investigation or not, would make no difference either way. Was he cruel for omitting such an important detail? Perhaps he will tell her... At some point. It wasn't often that his curiosity was piqued. It was going to be a rather fascinating night.

For once, however, he wondered if Miss Kisara was as curious about him, as he is about her. That was going to be revealed, from the moment he goes to pick her up from home, to the second he escorts her back to the manor Yashiki's staying at. Speaking of Yashiki, he should give him a heads up about Kisara joining in the investigation.

Or maybe not.

Where'd the fun be in that?

Next Chapter >

[houseofashesif]

My Answer for the above ask!

1. Some of the main themes include loss of freedom, oppression and indoctrination as a consequence of absolute power and its subsequent corruption. The main lesson of the story is self discovery through a convoluted dystopian world where individuality is frowned upon. It's a story of kindness and compassion of human nature even during the bleakest of times when hope has died, but at the same time it's about humanity’s sinister nature, insatiable greed and society’s complacency and apathy for those in absolute power could doom us. It's about freedom that cannot be exchanged for any amount of wealth or power in the world. (that sounds kinda confusing i know, story idea just came to me as a bathroom idea so that’s it for now)

2. Sounds lame but i had this spontaneous idea after listening to a Youtube summary obout some story series (im sorry i dont remember its name, heard it a long time ago) and with a combo of plenty of lazy time + a lot of day dreaming (and i mean a LOT) i thought “hm why dont i try writing a story?” and boom here it is, a half baked idea waiting to be fully baked now. Plus i was inspired by the Zodiacs (the western zodiacs i mean) and some flower symbolism like the red spider lilies :) (plus plus im kinda into politics and stuff as a pol science major, so yeah its just me and my pessimistic mind acting up again to make the worst case scenario haha-uhm)

3. My MC (whom i am planning to make an amnesic with no memories of their past including their name) is on a journey of self discovery through the dystopian land of Elysium City (an irony indeed) looking for answers to several questions like, Why are their memories missing? Who is the person they see in their dreams, telling them to live? And what is with their strange ability which allows them to read people's hearts and in a way, their memories? Why were they kept captive in a mental asylum? (ok it looks like i went overboard i’ll stop now) As for me, i'm just a small budding writer looking to grow as a writer in general, and probably improve my writing while im at it for my future plans. Plus its for the sake of my own mental peace, hey i need some outlet for my ideas too, would hate to see them die off right. Currently it's more like a pet project for myself, where i just dump all of my ideas (+ my favourite tropes and dynamics and characters) into a chaotic cauldron and expect them to cook themselves. I know its not as deep as others but eh everyone’s got a different goal

4. None as of yet, im still in the middle of worldbuilding (its a nightmare i tell you,coming up with names for places, people, organizations etc but its fun)

5. Its an original content, albeit drawing inspiration for lots of stuff from lots of different sources over the years. Im not sure about where to post it tho, i mean i can post it in the likes of Wattpad, Ao3 or even tumblr, but i doubt i have the guts to do so ehe

6. It started in the beginning as a way to express myself and my thoughts in essays for school homework and projects, which in some cases included adding murder mysteries to the most mundane of things, e.g. a visit to a weekly market (alright im going off course again sorry) then i was introduced to wattpad by my cousin, and oh boy, after that i went on a rampage writing and reading all sorts of fanfictions, applyfics and etc etc. Then i left wattpad for Ao3 then i stumbled upon tumblr and its interactive fics. Writing to me is an outlet for my thoughts and emotions, fleeting like a blowing breeze, i never really took it too seriously. But now seeing how several people on the internet are writing and publishing their books, i kinda want to do it too. Its been a dream of mine for a while so i dont know, who knows this sudden burst of motivation might just pass away too ;D

7. These words are not just for other fellow writers but also for me, never stop believing in yourself and what you want to do, regardless of what others say. After All it's your life, sometimes you may feel discouraged, seeing how far others are in life when you haven't even started with the baby steps, but its alright, everybody went through that once upon a time. Just, don't give up alright? Sorry i suck at inspiring people

Writers of Tumblr, I have an ask game for you all!

Please reblog and answer these questions, maybe tag others too! My asks are also open for them.

By the way, please read my snippets of TFLOC!

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

[miss-kittyy]

Rewriting Briarlight and Longtail’s Deaths

So I am disabled, like very disabled, I am %50 of the teenagers ever diagnosed with my special combination of pain disorders, and I also unfortunately hyper fixated on warrior cats, which is bad news for me because warrior cats is super ableist, and to add insult to injury, the fandom can also be pretty ableist.

My biggest problem with the majority of “anti-ableist” AUs is that they “fix” the ableism stemming from the narrative and able bodied characters by making the disabled character less disabled, this so bad for many reasons. I’ve talked more about in other posts. The justification that real life disabled cats are less doesn’t make it not ableist, since when was warrior cats meant to be realistic? If you’re making an au where the disabled cats function like actual disabled cats you also have to make all the cats genetically accurate, and retcon Lionblaze lifting a tree.

My problem with warrior cats is not that the disabled characters cannot become full conventional warriors, I’d like it if they got to choose what duties the perform instead of being crammed into the medicine den, but I don’t care about Cinderpelt not being able to complete a marathon. Most of the fandom seems to think the issue is that the disabled character are not useful enough, instead of the way that able bodied characters deny of them agency and make remarks like “you wouldn’t want to return to a life like her’s would you?”. Disabled people do not need to be “useful” to be worthy and empowering.

It’s very obvious that most of the fandom just wants the disabled cats to be more palatable to abled bodied people, so I’ve decided to make my own rewrite instead to hopefully make myself feel better. A lot of these things are inspired by my own experiences and not every disabled person is looking for the same things in representation, this is totally self indulgent.

The goal of this AU is to highlight the many unique and valuable aspects disability and how being disabled does not infringe upon anyone’s worth, ever.

- Longtail doesn’t die in the storm, Briarpaw is still injured, but he’s found besides her, trying his best to help her cling to life.

- after Briarpaw begins to recover he stands up to Millie and other cats insulting her quality of life, he says her journey will be hard, but it is one worth taking.

- She asks him why he’s an elder, and he decides to request to have his warrior ship restored as Briarpaw is dreading the life of an elder.

- On his first patrol the cats accompanying him insist on speaking to him in an incredibly infantilism tone, and whispering amongst themselves over what he can or can’t do, without consulting him,

- He initially gives up on patrolling after that insufferable experience.

- Briarlight begins to create marks and blobs on the wall of the medicine den using crushed up dead herbs she asks him to retrieve some berries for her, and he complies.

- Jayfeather shows him how he navigates the territory with the help of some of the sighted cats, and Mousefur is quick to volunteer as his guide. He finds her company surprisingly empowering. He realizes that it was not his blindness which was limiting his abilities, but the other cats attitudes.

- Mousefur and Longtail return with mouthful of berries and herbs, Briarlight describes to him what she’s drawing on the side of the den and he helps he mound the materials into paint.

- The cats begin to pop into the medicine den to see Briarlights painting and soon Jayfeather has to kick her out occasionally so they’d stop crowding him, she’s given the walls of camp to decorate instead.

- She begins to illustrate Longtails stories of the old territory and Bloodclan, and this new form of storytelling becomes a tradition amongst Thunderclan.

- because more young cats are aware of the clans history it becomes harder for the dark forest to recruit them, unfortunately, Blossomfall’s resentment towards her sister means she never cared to listen.

- Ivypool is still recruited and trained like in canon, given her relationship with the dark forest was much more emotionally charged and manipulative than just plain lies.

- at a gathering Longtail meets Grasspelt who inquires about Briarlight, Longtail is surprised about how little he knows as the she-cat had mentioned how well they got along as apprentices. Despite Millie nagging him not to tell him the truth about her daughter he does anyways, but puts much more emphasis on how well she’s doing than Millie expected. Grasspelt thinks this sounds really cool and decides that he is going to see her and her paintings, and that nobody can stop him. Longtail makes sure to put any opposing cat in their place, but Briarlight is a very respected Clanmate, so most warriors don’t say anything.

- Briarlight is nervous and doesn’t want to come out of the medicine den at first, but when Grassheart darts into the den holding berries and flowers for her to paint with she quickly warms up to her visitor.

- Grassheart is happy to tell Briarlight that he’s never been able to be a “functioning” warrior, and that he has always imagined that his spirit is shaped different, the medicine cat says his body is normal, but he’s never been able to keep focus in a fight or react as quickly as he should be able to while hunting. (He’s autistic because I say so)

- As dusk nears he’s visually hesitant to return to Riverclan and when Longtail inquires on why he says that he hasn’t felt so “here” for a long time. On the way back he wanders off and comes back with a chipmunk, when returning to Riverclan territory his father, Mintfur, is shocked to see his catch. After talking with his family a bit he realizes that it was the noise from the river that was making him so tense and dissociated, Brackenfur, who was escorting him, notices that he keeps rubbing himself on the ground and wincing.

- For the next couple moons Grasspelt returned to Thunderclan to bring Briarlight plants that only grow in Riverclan territory, he begins trying to fish from the quite lazy stream in their territory and soon both him and Briarlight have got it down.

- Longtail notices the sadness present whenever Grasspelt left and exclaims that it’s rather stupid that he’s living somewhere so unsuited for him just because of words long repeated.

- Grasspelt confesses that he feels the same, but knew he wasn’t supposed to say anything. Briarlight tells Longtail that her and the Riverclan warrior had been thinking of each other as mates for moons.

- Longtail accompanies Jayfeather to the next half moon meeting where he proposes his addition to the warrior code, “no cat should be confined to laws which harm them due to an inherent physical or spiritual difference.” (Cats don’t really know how brains work, so they see mental disabilities as a difference within a cats spirit)

- A moon later the leaders meet to discuss this proposition, it is accepted and Grasspelt makes the journey to Thunderclan for the final time.

- Grasspelt is renamed Grassspirit when becoming a Thunderclan warrior, unlike prior renaming of disabled cats this is a celebration.

- Grassspirit spends most of his time taking care of the elders and kits, he’s incredibly compassionate especially with kits and is able to solve many problems within the nursery.

- When twigkit and Violetkit arrive in Thunderclan Briarlight and Grassspirit help raise them, after Violetkit is taken Briarlight and Twigkit paint her on the side of Thunderclan camp.

- Briarlight still gets sick and her illness progresses without any treatment, Grassspirit notices her trying to hide it and when Longtail finds out he’s very upset. Jayfeather frantically treats her, expressing his frustration that she didn’t tell them sooner, the second Millie steps out she breaks down and explains that she just wanted to deal with it herself, and perhaps if she were successful Millie would finally treat her like an adult.

- Longtail gives Millie a stern talking to, he tells her that Briarlight is a warrior of Thunderclan and as her clanmate she should show her some respect.

- Millie is inherently very reactionary, as she had not realized the full extent of her suffocation, but eventually after a couple moons her and Briarlight begin to rekindle their relationship, like adults.

- Blossomfall sees how Brairlight wasn’t basking in their mother’s attention like she imagined, and feels the urge to seek out an actual sisterhood after ignoring Briarlight for moons and moons.

- Briarlight isn’t really mad at her sister, and understands why she felt the way she did. Jayfeather suggests that Blossomfall help Briarlight with her painting, Blossomfall seems put off with the suggestion of being her sister’s assistant.

- The interactions that follow are less than ideal, Blossomfall commends Briarlight’s able friends (Thornclaw, Poppyfrost, Alderheart, etc) for being so nice to her, as if that’s not what friends do. She seems very sad the entire time, sighing when her sister dragged her legs around with her mouth to sit more comfortably, even though she was completely fine. When watching her paint she comments that it’s good she has “something to keep her busy”, and finally she expresses her view, of Briarlight’s injury and her (Blossomfall’s) suffering being all worth it because of her talents, as if her life was not worth living to begin with.

- Briarlight tells her that if that’s truly what she wants she’s going to have to put more effort into understanding and respecting her way of life, and that she won’t apologize for their mother’s actions.

- When Blossomfall has her kits they take a liking to Auntie Briarlight, and Blossomfall seems to have reflected on their past interactions, trusting her sister to watch her kits. Briarlight teases a bit, a subtle way of telling her not to rush things, but they do begin to feel like something close to sisters.

- Right before Briarlight’s Nieces and Nephews are made warriors Longtail dies of Greencough. Throughout the entirety of his sickness he kept his sense of humour, his mean streak, and his immense love for what he had made of his clan.

- At his vigil Grassspirit began whaling like a bird in new-leaf, he insists that the vigil is too sad, and that Longtail wouldn’t want everyone moping around, for Starclan’s sake, his life was good. Standing amongst them, Longtail’s spirit can feel every cat in Thunderclan standing around him, singing the song of a life well lived.

[lacheri]

:/ I started writing this at 5am because I couldn’t sleep so here we are

content: good ole Levi romanticized smut, minors/ageless blogs do not interact

Levi, plunging deep and hard between your thighs, with his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. his breath is so hot, the most obscene words dangling off his lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice cracking and oh so desperate. “squeezing me so tight, you’re dripping for me. can feel it everywhere — oh fuck.”

and he’s not lying — lying on your back, arching your spine so your stomach stays flushed to his, your legs spread wide apart. you can hear and feel the slick of your arousal, the way Levi drives in and out of your walls, catching every ridge with every thrust of his length. it’s so lewd, the rhythmic drum to the melody of heavy breathing shared between you and Levi. it’s like a song. you should be embarrassed, but with the way he praises you, lips sucking along your earlobe, sweaty hands gripping and tugging at every part of your body, you can’t find a good enough reason to be.

Levi makes you feel worshipped. because the way he sees you can only be described in how deep he fucks you, in how sweet his words sound rolling off his tongue. you’re a goddess, you deserve to be fucked like one.

he balances himself to his knees, silver eyes gazing down to your divine union, and he groans. taking both his thumbs, his pulls your soaked lips apart — watching your labia flower, his cock disappearing into the depths of your cunt. he clenches his jaw, a pitiful whine escaping from deep within his throat. poor Levi can hardly even think, he’s too caught up in the visual of his devotion to you. your pussy belongs to him just as much as his cock belongs to you. Levi finds that quite beautiful, in a round about way.

“baby,” you pant out. “‘s close.”

he knows that, how could he not? with every roll of his hips, your walls constrict and spasm with vitality, you gush around him. it’s a sticky mess, but it’s a mess he doesn’t mind in the slightest. it just means he’ll get the pleasure of cleaning it up with his tongue when all is said and done.

Levi can’t stop himself from brushing the pad of his right thumb across your swollen clit, swirling the bud with the softest intentions. you just sound so pretty when you cry out, especially when his rocking slows to prolong your release. he just can’t help it, the way you squeeze him tight is too addicting. like you’re trying to milk every last drop out of him, and he indulges himself with the thought for a brief moment. filling you up with every thing he has, giving you every single last fragment of his being. his cum, his heart, his devotion — his soul, if you’d ask nicely. although, he’s pretty sure you’ve already set claim to the damned thing.

“what’s the rush?” Levi coos, falsely sweet and condescendingly. “we have all night, pretty thing.”

maybe he draws out your climaxes for the sake of you pouting those swollen lips of yours, the unshed tears of frustration lining the corners of your eyes. maybe he does it because he cannot seem to fathom a moment where his tip doesn’t brush against your g-spot, where he cannot tell where his body starts and yours ends. in fact, he decides, the reason of it all is simply for the sake of greed. Levi can disguise it in dirty words, lazy thrusts that don’t even scratch the surface of release. but the truth of the matter is, your body is heavenly and Levi wants to savor every fucking drop of your divinity until he chokes on the taste.

although, it’s pretty fucking angelic to watch you pulsate around his cock. feels even better too.

you want to scream, the full pressure of his fingers finally stroking your bundle of nerves the way your body desires. Levi is such an attentive lover, paying attention to each pulse of your pussy, watching in adoration as the thoughts quiet behind your beautiful eyes. he loves this, the sight of your brain shutting off in tandem to each pet to your clit, each plunge into your walls.

a tug and pull, a delicious friction that only serves as an insatiable desire. absolutely carnal, merciless dives into your depths only fan the flames of your impending ascension. up, and up, and up. every intimate moment with Levi feels like the first, but somehow the last — like this is his only chance to prove to you only he can fuck you to this degree of pleasure. he overachieves every single time, reaching yet another milestone of “how hard can Levi make you cum this time?” turns out, harder than the last.

“Levi,” you moan helplessly, too far gone to pay attention to how careless his thrusts become, how his slow and deliberate pace picks up. “need it, need it so bad.”

“need what?” he demands clarification. whatever you want, it’s yours.

“wanna cum at the same time,” do you even know how seductive you are? your voice so high pitched, you sound like you’re begging. do you have any idea what this does to Levi? how badly he wants to make every whim of yours a reality? bring you every earthly satisfaction he can will?

“yeah?” Levi grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing your legs over his shoulders, your knees pushed down until they brush against your breasts. “but, oh fuck!”

he doesn’t have much time to say much more, his own mouth betraying what his body wants, what it craves. fuck you until the sun rises and falls, fill you load after load of his love, curse the minutes for ever daring to crawl forward. he believes calling an orgasm a little death is fitting — Levi would die happily caged in your embrace, lay breathless at the work of your hands and terrestrial form, thank you with his last exhale.

Levi would die for you, kill for you, and would only ask in return for you to live for him. and you already do without question — he feels the blood beneath your skin run hot, drops of perspiration rolling over the flesh to cool you. when he presses his ear to your ankle, he can hear the rapid beat of your heart. his tongue soothes over the pressure point, his lips forming three words only meant to be spoken to you. to you only, to you always, until Levi cannot give anymore of himself over. even then, he believes he’d find a way.

you shout those sacred words back at him as you come undone, knees locking and thighs quivering. with the first squeeze of your walls, he follows suit. breathless moans and proclamations of a forever Levi will try his hardest to give you. he’ll make you happy, so help him. he’ll be yours until his dying breath, if you’ll have him. to take his weary self into the sanctuary of your Eden, lush gardens your crooked smile, rivers and babbling brooks your tears of time. he wants it all. the sickness, the health, until death do you part. but you won’t truly part, he’ll find you in the next life.

Levi doesn’t need a heart to love you, anyhow. your name is carved into his existence, pretty lettering declaring an eternity of loyalty. he likes to think you have his name engraved right above your heart.

[b-lizi]

Letter for a friend

Whenever I think of you, I always tend to lead my mind toward an old forest full of light and noisy animals. It’s the forest you see in childhood movies about teenagers living in houses lost in the woods, this kind of place where you feel the loss of warm memories, of lost innocence and simple youth. It’s here that I find you.

I imagine a little house made of wood, up in a big old tree where squirrels and mouses squeak and leave nuts around. In this house, very simple with one room only, there is a bookshelf where we read our favorite books ; there is a carpet, ancient but well preserved, orned with intricate floral symbols where we could lay together ; there is a little desk where we draw the things we like and whenever we finish our work we show it to each other. Maybe we could even have a tea service. I would share my favorite herbs with you, the ones with either spice or dried flowers, leaves from my own garden. And when we’ll have tea on these lazy afternoons, laying on that dusty old carpet, I’ll know that your lips will taste what brought me peace for many years.

I love talking to you, whenever I come with my big and dark and clumsy hands, with my ink-dripping dress and my chaotic ghost hair. I am terrifying, I am sad, I made too many mistakes. But talking to you makes me feel pure again. With you I am the child that sees good in the world, I am the hopeful fool that thinks “I can do anything, I’ll love everything”, I no longer fear the uncertain future that kept me awake too many nights. 

Like an ancient being, an elf, a wizard or a dragon, you like to talk. And these conversations are always filled with wisdom, not necessarily because you’re all wise but because it is genuine conversation, you want to talk and you want, as I do, something genuine to talk about. Because where you come from, where you live, you cannot have these conversations. They’re aren’t true and behind that neutral mask you wear, it drives you mad every day. As for me, I feel the need to heal the burns you had, burns identical to mine, I want to heal you through my words and presence without the need to bring out medicine and bandages. The latter could never have healed me, but I never heard the right words until very recently. And so I want to give you the same right words, those you've never heard, maybe even less than I, so you can begin to heal these scars in your heart and your dry eyes. Feeling old so young maybe is wisdom. I wish we could have become wise only as old people though.

Sometimes when we talk, you talk about your family and the love you've lost, and the dreams you keep dear in your heart, and the desire to leave that home, and the need to cleanse the past, and the want to be brave. In these moments, I imagine I respond to you with my deep and big eyes, with all the tenderest love I’m capable of. Oh, you feel so unsure, you think of yourself so badly, you think you’re a bad person. Then why I am with you ? I look at you and listen to your stories and your life, and believe me, brave friend, because you are indeed brave, I always listen to the ones that show empathy or vulnerability towards others. I know that where you live you have been taught that you were nothing, but it’s untrue and I’ll keep telling you that it is untrue. It is untrue.

When you’re about to cry because of that heavy pain you carry every day, I imagine caressing softly your face to wipe the tears away and bringing you in my arms, close to my heart. Oh, tired soldier, you were never a burden to me, neither in the future you’ll be. I’ll stroke your hair if you allow me, and let you grip my clothes to hold on. The blood of your soul needs to go out : you can cry. 

And I’ll hold on too, I’ll say that everything’s alright, because as long as I live you’ll be okay, even if I’m far away, even if you cannot see me in days, even if you think that nothing is right. Leave these thoughts about these mindless and ignorant people, trying to steal more of your youth. Leave, whenever you can, these oh-so-good people that like to see others suffer. I love you. You deserve the clarity they took away from you, always had. I love you.

After calming down, I’ll offer you my best cup of tea and keep you close to me, or if you prefer I’ll leave you some space. If you want to talk again, I’ll be near. And I'll continue to listen like you listen to me. Always. Always.

[mrs-gucci]

Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder. 

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured. 

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

-

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed. 

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair.  “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed. 

Bed, not beds. 

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before. 

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream. 

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat. 

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook. 

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present. 

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him. 

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect. 

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears. 

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony. 

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

[dhwty-writes]

On the Benefits of Trancing

This is a bit late, but was in fact written for Day 2 of sgtober, Can't Sleep. It's very fluffy, have fun reading! 

Summary: There are several reasons why Essek prefers trancing over sleeping. Firstly, as difficult as it may be to leave yourself vulnerable for eight hours at a time, he finds it even more challenging to imagine his friends defenceless. Secondly, sleep, inevitably, will give birth to dreams. And no matter if they are foul or fair, they torture him all the same. And lastly, well—.Essek reminisces about the strange habit of sleeping and his even stranger habit of sharing his bed with Caleb whenever he can't sleep.

Warnings: None, as far as I’m aware

Read on AO3

Sleep is a curious thing, Essek muses, that he doesn't understand and hasn't particularly cared for up until this point. It is a childish thing, and wild and vulnerable and oh-so terribly time consuming. Truth be told, for most of his life he has pitied the other races who are forced to bow to the whims of nature in that way.

Like so many things, that changed when he met the Mighty Nein. Well, not when he met them necessarily—back then he may or may not have been quietly plotting their demise for returning his carefully stolen beacons—but certainly when he started travelling with them.

As many aspects of elven cultures are, trancing is a solitary activity, a silent contemplation of one's most private thoughts to better cope with them. Shock and surprise don't even begin to cover his feelings when Caleb first cast his dome and Essek found out that sleeping, as many things for the Mighty Nein, is a rather communal event.

He had eight whole hours to come to terms with those implications—did they not realise what it meant, the trust one had to place in another to sleep in front of them? Did they not care? Or did they, by some miracle, in fact trust him that much?

When he came out of his trance the next morning, he realised some of the members of the Nein had moved during the night, curling closer to and around each other. Cuddling, they called it, and Essek's pity melted away, turning into something more bitter, more poisonous. Envy.

There is something about sitting upright, floating a few inches off the ground while surrounded by people holding each other that can make you feel so incredibly lonely, and that has to say something. Nearly a century of solitude spent between too-large, too-empty towers, too-secretive and too-pious schools, and a too-scheming and too-paranoid court have never left him feeling as isolated and bereft as that morning with the Nein did.

Of course, back then he didn't have the words to describe the feelings swirling in his chest. Nor did he have the words to ask for them to include him in their affections, lest he be presumptuous. That, to quote Caleb Widogast, takes time. Surprisingly little of it, if he is perfectly honest.

A few months down the line, he stopped floating while trancing and when he resurfaced the next morning, he found himself leaning against Fjord, who had taken the last watch. When he jerked away in embarrassment, Fjord blinked awake, too, a disgruntled look on his face, growling that he should stop moving around so much.

Despite his shame, Essek complied and held completely still until the rest of the Nein woke up. After that, he began to dabble into the casual intimacy his friends share. He even tried to sleep, occasionally.

In the beginning, he felt very self-conscious about it. He would wake up with messy hair, or drool on his pillow, or, worst of all, tucked close to Caleb. Another effect of the Mighty Nein, though, is that they very quickly rid you of your sense of shame. So, he no longer cares if he looks a mess, if his clothes are rumpled, or if he's getting spit on Veth's backpack. Just the last thing he can't help but feel embarrassed about.

There are several reasons why he still prefers trancing, though. Firstly, as difficult as it may be to leave yourself vulnerable for eight hours at a time, he finds it even more challenging to imagine his friends defenceless. He much prefers being able to watch over them for at least half of that time.

Secondly, sleep, inevitably, will give birth to dreams. And if sleep is childish, wild, and vulnerable, dreams are tenfold so. He often contemplates his crimes during his trances, as well as the discarded timelines, the lost possibilities that could have led to even more death, destruction, and despair. He frequently considers members of the Assembly lording their victory over him, disposing of him, torturing his friends. However, in his trance, he can choose to abandon these timelines. Dreams offer no such luxury. Once in their cruel grasp, you have no choice but to see them through.

Nightmares are one thing, but dreams are another. Even the pleasant ones often come unbidden, worming themselves through his subconscious to pluck out— What exactly Essek should call them, he isn't sure. He wouldn't dare name them wishes or hopes, for that would imply a certain level of possibility for them to come true. These visions are desires, more like, though that term implies a certain passion that does not fit the circumstance.

These unsought fantasies often include the Mighty Nein, years or decades from now. How they would still seek him out, include him in their midst. He dreams of feasts and festivals, of hugs and humour, of truthfulness and trust. And then there are other, even more forbidden dreams featuring him and Caleb. He dreams of soft kisses and gentle caresses, lazy nights spent in the tower reading books, of research and adventures and normalcy, of waking up as close to each other every day as they do from time to time on accident. He would love his future to look like this, but he knows there is a very little chance for that.

So, no matter if the dreams are foul or fair, they torture him all the same.

And lastly, well—

There is a knock on his door and Essek's heart lurches. "Come in," he calls as calmly as he can manage, forcing himself to slowly close the book he hasn't been reading instead of slamming it shut and scrambling to his feet.

The door opens silently, as all doors within the tower do, and Caleb slips inside. He's wearing simple sleeping clothes and Essek silently curses himself for already closing the book, so he can't even pretend to read that instead. "I, ah— I'm sorry for intruding... again," Caleb says, self-consciously tugging at his sleeves. "I hope I didn't wake you?"

"Not at all," he answers, barely keeping himself from saying: 'I was waiting up.' Instead, he opts for: "I was still reading."

"Anything interesting?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you have stored uninteresting books in your mind, Caleb Widogast?"

"Plenty," he deadpans and Essek chuckles.

"It's called The Creation of Silver." He turns the plain cover over to Caleb, to jog his memory. Based on what he could gather by skimming the first pages, it promises to be a rather run of the mill romance novel following the story of a Dwendalian noble trying to escape their arranged marriage. "So far, I find it quite entertaining."

"Ah, yes." Caleb quickly glances away, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Have you reached the part where Stefan leaves for the city yet?"

"I have not."

"Then I will not spoil you." Another tug on his sleeve. "The plot really picks up at that point."

Essek tilts his head to the side, studying Caleb. According to the clock in his room, it is past midnight, which is quite late for the human to still be awake. Yet, he is just hovering in his doorway, caught between stepping inside and leaving again. "I presume you did not come here to discuss my evening reading matter."

"Ah..." He tugs at his sleeves again. "No, I did not." As always, Caleb is as incapable of voicing his needs as Essek is.

Thankfully, Essek is not nearly as apprehensive when it comes to his friends' well-being as he is when his own is concerned. "Should you have trouble sleeping, you know you are more than welcome to stay. Seeing as we are to make progress tomorrow, I am very invested in you having a restful night."

Not being able to sleep is another thing about that practice that Essek cannot understand. Trancing is a matter of will, discipline, and tranquillity and he's always assumed sleep to be the same. He supposes it is, to some degree.

But travelling with the Mighty Nein, and Caleb specifically, has taught him that you cannot force sleep. There are circumstances under which they will toss and turn for hours, unable to find rest. Not even Beau's meditation, which he considered relatively close to his trance, seemed capable to calm a disturbed mind enough for sleep.

He has, however, also discovered that for certain members of the Mighty Nein, certain methods will accomplish the necessary peace of mind. Caduceus' tea appears to be able to work miracles, time and time again. Beauregard likes to tire herself out by running drills, while Jester usually draws in her sketchbook. Yasha tends to make flower crowns or, lacking flowers, braid other people's hair. Essek has been subjected to that numerous times so far and despite his aversion to Dynasty braids, he doesn't hate it. Fjord usually ties sailor's knots, and Veth sorts through her various collections.

Caleb, though? Caleb, for some reason, only needs another person to fall asleep next to. And for some reason, despite the numerous options he has, he chooses Essek more often than not. Not that he's complaining, of course. In fact, he may enjoy it a little too much.

Caleb laughs quietly as he often does at their antics. They have long since learned the rules to this strange game they are playing. "Well, if you put it like this..." he says as he rids himself of his slippers—Hausschuhe, he has explained to Essek, a very important part of Zemnian culture—and puts them next to Essek's. "I would hate to disappoint you, Herr Thelyss."

'You couldn't,' he thinks as he pulls back the covers. Instead, he says: "Indeed." As always, he freezes in place when Caleb joins him on the bed, scooting closer until they are nearly touching. Being this close to each other is not getting any less mortifying, no matter how long it has been since Caleb first came knocking on his door.

He still remembers that night in vivid detail. As so often, Essek has been reading and just got up to get a cup of tea. When he stepped out of his rooms, he nearly collided with a wizard who had convinced himself that his suffering wasn’t important enough to trouble him with. “Do you want to come in?” he said to his own surprise. To his even bigger surprise, Caleb accepted.

They sat on Essek’s couch and talked about everything and nothing at once. Hours later, with his throat gone dry, Essek asked: “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” The moments the words left his mouth he knew he’d said something wrong.

Caleb shot to his feet as if burned and Essek followed suit. “I am so sorry, friend. I will not continue to disturb you any—”

“Where are you going?” he interrupted him, perhaps a little irritated. “Give me some credit, Caleb Widogast; I am capable of far subtler ways to rid myself of an unwelcome visitor. Which you are not.”

He laughed self-consciously and said: “Regardless, I should go and rest. Schlaf gut, Herr Thelyss.”

“You could stay,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “I mean—I noticed your sleep to be more restful when you are around others. I am aware that I am not your first choice, but since the others are not here—You’re welcome to stay, if it at all helps.”

Caleb hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Certainly.”

“In Ordnung,” he answered finally. Essek is still glad he had thought to float for that conversation. That way, at least, his knees didn’t give out.

A short discussion about who should take the bed followed before they stubbornly agreed to share it. Essek came to regret that immediately after when he was confronted with the practical implications of ‘sharing a bed’.

“Make yourself at home,” he said. Caleb took some time to rearrange the pillows and blankets—just like he does now—while Essek hovered nearby. Literally.

It took several reminders from Caleb for Essek to not instinctively recast his floating cantrip, but eventually they managed to lie down next to each other with a minimal amount of awkwardness. They have moved past that initial apprehensiveness by now, Essek thinks while he pretends to read. Shortly after, Caleb flops down, close enough that Essek can feel his breath ghosting over his cheeks.

“Good night, Caleb Widogast,” Essek says, stubbornly staring at the pages and nowhere else. "Do you want me to dim the lights?" He doesn't need them anyways; he just likes to appreciate the room Caleb made for him in all of its colours.

"No, I think I would like to read a bit. I am quite fond of that book."

"You are?" Essek looks down to him in surprise. ‘If Caleb tilts his head,’ the thought hits him, ‘he could rest it on my shoulder.’ He just thought it to be one of the countless books Caleb has read in his life, nothing special. "Why?"

He blushes again. "Ah— I think you'll see. The title is more literal than one would assume."

He considers the book once more, trying to discern what Caleb means with his words. ‘Luxon help me,’ he sends a silent prayer. It wouldn’t be the first time for him to pick up a romance novel that turns out to be quite a bit more explicit than anticipated. To think that such a mistake may have happened to him with Caleb so close—He thinks he might just combust from embarrassment.

"Do you mind flipping the page?" Caleb asks with a yawn, startling Essek out of his thoughts.

"Oh, of course," he says belatedly and turns the page. He hasn't read the last one yet, but nor has he read the one before, so it hardly matters. The novel has a rather shallow plot, so he has no trouble picking it up three pages later, and he's done so by design.

“Thank you.” He yawns again, louder this time and burrows down further into his pillows. “Gute Nacht, mein Schatz,” he mumbles and freezes as if he only now realises what he said. He seems to wait for an answer, but when Essek fails to provide a wrong one, he just smiles up at him and says: “Schlaf wohl und g’sund, bis morgen früh’s Kaffeele kommt.”

“I don’t understand you,” Essek tells him just as quietly, “but you can translate tomorrow.” After a moment of hesitation, he adds in Undercommon: “Sweet dreams, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He quickly glances back at his book before he can do anything stupid. Such as regret his words. Or kiss him goodnight.

Still, with Caleb reading along he does his best to at least somewhat read the novel. It’s a very flowery language, occasionally dropping Zemnian words Essek doesn’t know. Judging by Caleb’s grumbling at least some of them appear to be wrong. The protagonist, Stefan, seems like quite the bore. He does have a strong motivation, he supposes, to escape from the dreary life that awaits him in his arranged marriage. Besides that, and his general cold-hearted demeanour, he can’t discern any defining characteristics.

He finally reaches the part Caleb asked him about—Stefan leaving for the big city—when another character is introduced, presumably his love interest. He appears to be about as compelling as the protagonist, until— Essek snorts quietly. “Caleb Widogast,” he chides softly, “is this a love story about wizards?”

At first, he doesn’t answer and Essek briefly considers the option of Caleb wilfully ignoring him. Then, there’s a barely audible snore. When he glances down in surprise, the human is leaning against his shoulder, soundly asleep. He noisily chews on a strand of his hair, a bit of drool dripping onto Essek’s shoulder.

For a moment he can’t help but stare, a dopey smile on his face. He quickly arrives at the conclusion that something as disgusting as that has absolutely no business being as endearing as it is. But for some reason he doesn’t mind at all.

Moving carefully and slowly, in order not to disturb Caleb’s sleep, he puts down The Creation of Silver. It is getting rather late and he probably should begin his trance, if he wants to wake before Caleb's inevitable departure.

He leans back, wiggling a bit to find a comfortable position. He thinks he's doing a good job of not rousing Caleb until the human grunts quietly. Essek freezes, fearing he may have woken him, but instead of opening his eyes, Caleb just shifts closer to him, throwing an arm and a leg across his lap to hold him tight.

Essek looks down at his... friend with a fond expression. After a moment of consideration, he reaches down to brush the strand of hair behind his ear.  

Sometimes, he feels like he can barely contain all the love he feels for this man within himself. One day, perhaps, he might even find the courage to tell him so.

Zemnian Translations:

Hausschuhe - slippers. In fact a Very Important German thing. Can't wear your normal shoes indoors, so you need special house shoes. Schlaf gut, Herr Thelyss. - Sleep well, Mister Thelyss. Gute Nacht, mein Schatz. -  Good night, my darling. (lit. treasure) Schlaf wohl und g'sund, bis morgen früh's Kaffeele kommt. - Sleep well and sound until tomorrow morning the little coffee arrives. (My Caleb is Suebian now and I don't take criticism. I was writing this when I suddenly remembered this sentence my parents used to say to me and I thought if my sleep deprived brain remembers things like that, it would only be appropriate if Caleb's did too.)

[author-morgan]

I don't know if you accept requests, if yes, could you write a smut on Ivarr x fem!reader?

maybe the continuation of that work of yours where Ivarr gives flowers to his crush. thank you♥️

here you are! i hope you enjoy it!

Ivarr the Boneless x fem!Reader

TWISTED LAUGHTER FILLS the forest —the morning mist still clinging to the leaves and soil. You press your back against one of the trees, the wide trunk large enough to hide you from your hunter. The air grows still, save for distant birdsong. Branches snap underfoot. Drawing in a slow breath, you dash forward, hiding behind another tree as you listen for footfalls, crunching leaves, and snapping twigs. 

The underbrush rustles behind you, and this time you are not quick enough. An arm wraps around your waist, and you turn to face your hunter. His eyes are a bright blue —the same shade as when bloodlust sets in— and his lips kinked into a wicked smile. Ivarr the Boneless has you ensnared. Anyone else would shit themselves if caught by Ivarr, but not you —no, this was only a game. You lay a hand on his chest, fingertips pressing into his left breast through the thin linen of his tunic. “What are you doing, little bird?” He croons, but his answer is only a taunting smirk as you push away from him, darting back into the mist. 

You watch for his shadowed figure and dance from tree to tree, laughing as he draws nearer. Leaning your head back against a sapling, you smile upward at the heavens —blue sky breaking through the clouds. Ivarr’s footfalls are close. Taking a deep breath, you make a run for it, not quite ready for this game of yours to end so quickly. Ivarr springs into the opening, both his arms snaking around your waist. There will be no escape this time. You twist in his hold, meeting his manic gaze and grin. 

Thinking to distract him, you push yourself close, rising onto the balls of your feet —lips ghosting across his. Ivarr dips his head down, but you pull away. The back-and-forth teasing lasts only a few more seconds before he gives a soft groan, lips firmly meeting yours. His kiss is merciless and demanding. Rough hands trail down your bare arms, around to your back, and down to your thighs. You gasp into his mouth when he hoists you up, legs wrapping around his waist —lips never parting until your back hits the nearest tree. 

“Nowhere to run now,” Ivarr whispers at your ear, pinning you to the trunk with his hips, one hand braced on the rough bark next to your head. He tilts your head to the side, a finger trailing across your jaw and down your neck, following the neckline of your dress. The shivers creeping down your spine and turning your skin to gooseflesh sends a thrill through Ivarr. His lips take the same path —nipping and suckling, all of Mercia will know of you and Ivarr given the marks he leaves. 

You press a finger to his lips, keeping him from kissing you again. He can read the look in your lust-darkened eyes. Not here. A hard lesson learned from a previous romp in the woods where you both spent the following days scratching at rashes from stinging nettle. “Ivarr!” You cry as he hoists you over his shoulder, giving your bottom a light slap —laughing as he takes the forest path back to Repton. 

“A glorious hunt,” Ivarr announces as he strides past his brother with you still strung across his shoulder. It is not a new sight to those settled in Repton. Since the last harvest festival, you and Ivarr had not shied away from affection —often playing these games, returning with cornflowers and twigs clinging to your clothes and hair. “Now I go enjoy my spoils.” Ubba Ragnarsson shakes his head, returning his attention to the fading map of Mercia laid out before him. 

Ivarr places you amid the furs and rough-sewn pillows of his canvas bower and quickly sinks to his knees, pushing the skirt of your dress up around your waist like a giddy boy unwrapping a present. Lifting your arms, he rids you of the plain woolen dress and the bindings around your chest. His hands float along your curves until he comes to your breasts, flattening his hands against them. Ivarr groans, palming the mounds of flesh and tweaking your nipples into taut little peaks as his lips drag across your jaw. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, moving your hips against his, gasping at the feeling of him pressing against you through his britches. When his hands slip back to your hips and backside, you lean forward, stroking the patchy scruff on his jaw and scattering short kisses across his neck and scarred chest. “This is payback, isn’t it?” You ask, arching into Ivarr’s touch. He laughs, lips kinked into a smile —you have your answer. 

His hand moves to the sensitive spot between your legs, making sure you can feel every movement he makes. “Ivarr,” you breathe in a heady tone, causing him to grin. He pulls away from your breast and stares up at you, at the building ecstasy in your eyes. Ivarr drags his tongue down your torso, his mouth clamping over your clit, kissing it furiously. Your eyes roll back; you are caught in his touch, his mouth, his tongue. Whimpering, you scratch your hands into his tunic, pulling the fabric upwards. “Ivarr!” you cry, panting. “Oh, please–” But he pulls away again, and you let out a whine. The smirk unfolding across Ivarr’s face is unbearable —his lips glistening with your essence. 

Sitting back on his haunches, Ivarr pulls his tunic off and wiggles out of his britches. He wraps his hands around your ankles —gentle shackles— tugging you closer to the edge of the pallet bed. “Tell me what you want, little bird.” He says, eyes darting across you splayed out beneath him —nipples hard and pink, lovebites blossoming at your shoulder and neck. 

“I want you, Ivarr,” you breathe, tracing one of the runes tattooed on his abdomen until your hand slips further down. Reaching between your bodies, you wrap your fingers around his cock. When he hisses through clenched teeth, you smile. Lips against his as you begin stroking him. It takes a moment before he returns to his senses, and when he does, he pins your hands at the sides of your head. His length is heavy, pressed against your core, and slowly you roll your hips up into his. The look he gives you is meant to scold the action, but you only continue.

He frees one of his hands and slides it lightly between your breasts and down further, lining himself up with you and pushing in slowly. His lips seal over yours and capture your groan of desperation and pleasure as he stretches you. You moan and squirm beneath him, but he has you exactly where he wants you. Ivarr can’t help but swear softly at the feeling of your body around him. 

As he begins to roll his hips, sliding out and then back inside you, he groans at your ear and shifts his weight upwards again, hands pressing yours into a wolf pelt. You’re lost then, lost in the pleasure of his movements, the thrill of the weight of his body on yours as he sets your body and senses alight. His hands are at your breasts, your hips, then one hand is at your clit while the other pulls lightly at your hair. Your hands dig into his shoulders and scratch down his back —the brief jolt of pain spurs Ivarr on. 

It’s only as his fingers are working on your clit and coaxing you towards release that you realize he is moaning your name. It’s soft at first, but his mouth is at your ear, and you can hear it. Ivarr is coming apart inside you, and your name is the one on his lips. You smile and turn your head, catching him off guard in a kiss, legs parting wider and drawing up his sides.

Your toes curl, and what you might have thought was downright impossible became a reality as your orgasm begins to build, coming to a frantic, heated peak quickly that he keeps you at for the entire time he possesses you, holding your thighs tightly so you cannot escape from him. “Ivarr,” your voice sounds foreign to your ears. He wraps an arm around the curve of your waist and brings the both of you to lie on your side, his cock still sliding in and out of you —scarred face twisting as he chases his end with wild abandon. 

His hands are on your back while one of yours rests on his powerful thigh and the other on his cheek. Your mouth falls open as a primitive noise comes from both you and Ivarr, though he stifles the obscene sounds by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Hips stuttering, he pauses —panting as his cock twitches deep in your heat, but then he gives several more, lazy thrusts before stilling completely and pulling you a little closer. “You,” Ivarr pants through breathy laughter, “have ruined me, woman.” All of Mercia must have known by now Ivarr Ragnarsson had gone soft for a baker and farmer. 

It is not often Ivarr speaks of a defeat so lightly. “Ah–” you smile, running your fingertips along the edge of the tattoo wrapping around his bicep “–so I’ve defeated the great Ivarr the Boneless?” You ask, teasing. Grinning, you careen forward, giving his scarred cheek a quick kiss. 

Ivarr’s blue eyes darken and narrow. He is not one to accept defeat. “I demand a rematch then,” he says, rough hand running up your spine and twisting into your hair. 

You’ve no doubt another round would put him on top in this back-and-forth game, but after running through the woods and being fucked properly, nothing sounds better than curling up with Ivarr for a nap. “What say I bake an apple tart, and we call it even?” You offer, knowing between honey cakes and apple tarts, you could almost always get your way with Ivarr. 

He groans, thinking of the sweet taste of apples and spices baked in a flaky dough —there is still a store of apples from last autumn tucked away below the Repton cathedral. Ivarr’s lips twitch into a smile. The only thing sweeter than your apple tarts was you. “You drive a hard bargain,” he remarks. 

“I’ll let you think it over,” you tell him with a soft laugh and quick kiss before settling your head on his chest. Ivarr glances up at the sunlight streaming in through the seams of his tent and sighs, tracing runes and constellations on your back and shoulder. After a few moments, he glances down at you —fast sleep— and begins to wonder if Ubba’s new dream in England is really so bad after all. 

[taglist: @kvitravn @elizabethroestone @kitkitvm @elluvians @fullmoonwolfer1 @ghostieisalone @boodaga @southsideslutt @dynamite-with-a-lazerbeam ]

if you want to be added to my Ivarr taglist just let me know!

[themadauthorshatter]

If you're up to date with my posts, then you know what's about to happen.

I've read the books, WE'VE ALL READ THE BOOKS, but this is a somewhat fun switch-a-roo.

Expect a BUNCH of changes that I'll try justifying, especially painful ones, so bear with me🙏

OTP SWAP PART 1: THE CRUEL PRINCE!!!!

I'm starting with the first book for obvious reasons

Like before, we start in the mortal world with Ashley Duarte(yes, human!Cardan's last name is Duarte, but like I said, bear with me) making tacos in the kitchen while one of the MANY dogs and other animals wait for her to drop some food. Baby boy Cardan and his older half-sister Rhyia are watching some human stuff, maybe Looney Tunes or old Mickey Mouse cartoons, when the door is knocked on, which alerts the animals and wakes a half asleep Cardan; Rhyia does not wake up.

Cardan answers it and finds a cloaked Madoc at the door. Rather than ask who he is or call for his mother, he stares at this man, who kneels and asks as evenly as possible if his mother is home.

Cardan slams the door in his face, which prompts Ashley to ask why he did so.

Madoc BANGS on the door and shouts, "Asha!" and Ashley pales as she realizes who is at the door.

She demands Cardan to go upstairs as Madoc kicks the door open and walks inside, giving the same speech as the original, that Balekin told him she'd ran away with his daughter, that she killed a woman who was just as pregnant as her, that she ran away and married some lowly farm hand and blacksmith. He thought it was a lie, but nope. Here she stands.

Asha(which is her real name) is deeply ashamed at his words, and tries to pull Cardan away; an angry Madoc is an unstable Madoc.

Like before, Justin rushes in to save his family, but ends up getting kebabbed with his wife.

Rhyia does wake up to see both and Madoc spills the tea that she's his and needs to pack her bags because they're leaving, and Cardan's coming with.

Cardan, despite being seven, is outraged and tries to kick Madoc into oblivion with no avail. Rhyia, however, swears that she'll never love a monster like Madoc, who simply scoffs and tells her to wrangle the human and gather her things in half an hour, because they're leaving for Faerie.

Reluctantly, they do and they never see the mortal world again for a very long time.

Jump to the present day as Cardan, a now seventeen year old human heart throb, is getting prim and proper for a revel. His hair is getting styled nice, he's in a nice suit, he's wearing a cool belt that makes him look like he has a tail, and has ear cuffs that make his ears look pointed like a faerie.

He also has rowan berries on his wrist, because he doesn't want the necklace to be easy to see as a lot of his shirts show his chest.

He's dolled up and meets Locke, his brother that came around when Madoc married Oriana and had Oak. The two did not get along, at first, but they began to tolerate each ither as they realized they were the only humans in Faerie that were gentry kids.

Locke is more of a bard or a poet, always seen with a little book, and doesn't wear the same stuff Cardan does, so no pointed ear cuffs for him. He's also more accustomed to Faerie, being good with half truths and minor deception. He's on good terms with both Madoc and Oriana.

Cardan, however, is not on good terms with either of them, as he has tried multiple times to leave Faerie, with and without Rhyia with him, and every time ended with Madoc outside scowling at him and leading him back to his room. Still has that 'no kill' rule, but he's better with sneaking and a sword, having been able to lighten his steps so he could sneak past Madoc and his guards whenever he tried to leave. He's not bad with a sword, but he still has a lot to learn, being 17 and all. When he doesn't have a sword in his hands, he has an animal in them, i.e. a foal, a dog, or, at one point, a skunk that was calm enough to not spray him. Yeah, animal lover that can hold his own.

The two exchange banter and Locke shows show rare excitement for this revel, saying the two will have the time of their lives. Locke, who isn't as close with her, wonders where Rhyia is, but Cardan reveals she's not attending, instead going to visit some friends in the mortal world.

Her funeral as the boys saddle up with Oriana amd Madic and go to the revel.

Similar events occur, like Oriana telling the boys to be careful, Madoc talking to Dain and Balekin, and Locke leading Cardan through the revel so they can have a good time.

IT GOES DOWNHILL WHEN THE GREENBRIAR TWINS AND THEIR FRIENDS ARRIVE. Jude, her older sister Taryn, and their friends, Edir, a bard that can sing and play anyone under the table, Valerian, who's a sadist, and Nicasia, the princess of the Undersea.

Jude and Taryn may have the same face and body, but don't be fooled, Jude has horns, always wears a sword, and will slap you in a dress and then set it on fire without a second’s hesitation. Taryn, however, always has a bunch of flowers in her hair, always wears a dress, and uses words as her weapon. Did you know that she broke on of the most boisterous men in Faerie qith nothing but her words? True story. Edir is the guy that keeps them both in check, an order of Balekin's, which we'll learn later. He is also more of Jude's friend and Taryn's bed buddy, in SFW terms. Nicasia is Jude's friend, like FRIEND, and Valerian is the same, really, just more of an ass now that he has more even targets.

Everyone bows to these guys, even Cardan and a smirking Locke. That smirk vanishes when Taryn winks at Cardan, who Jude GLARES AT.

Locke feels the same way, cinfused and angry, but no time to think in it because Valerian storms toward a confused Cardan and grabs him by the collar, snarling that he can play dress up and make believe all he wants because it won't hide his plain hair or round ears or barn dog smell, so he shouldn't even bother.

Valerian throws him back and Locke rounds on Cardan, asking him what the hell that was between him and Taryn. Cardan brushes him off, as it was just a wink, not a lap dance. Before they can REALLY go at it, crying draws their attention and see that Jude just pincushioned someone who didn't bow, said someone nkw having a hole in their stomach and a slash across their torso. Taryn is annoyed, Nicasia and Valerian are trying not to laugh, and Edir, who's embarassed, is scolding Jude for losing it at a revel.

Jump to after the revel and the day of school. The boys do indeed get dirt kicked on their food, but instead of 'make me,' Cardan snaps, 'TRY me,' because Nicasia asks if he's as filthy as other human boys. Locke talks him down, but Valerian, kicking more dirt and even throwing some IN Cardan's face, asks if the two qould like them for friends.

Locke apologizes for Cardan, but Jude commands he prove it by dropping out of the tournament, it'll be less embarrassing than getting his ass beaten in front of everyone.

Nicasia spots one of the ear cuffs and pulls it off, asking if he stole it. Big mistake because the cuff burns her hand, as it is iron and iron hurts Faeries.

Cardan smirks and the group leaves, Locke scolding him for being stupid.

Later, at dinnner, after talk of Dain's coronation, Cardan, despite some minor objection from Rhyia, asks Madoc a question: May he please have a green sash for the tournament? Why? He would like to be a knight, please and thank you. Madoc chikes on his wine, Locke coughs to hide a laugh, Rhyia winces, and Oriana os shicked into silence.

Madoc gives it to him straight: he's not bad with a sword, he's good on his feet,and he's the best damned rider that anyone's ever seen, but no. He cannot compete for knighthood, on the count of being the furthest thing from a killer imaginable and just being in over his head.

Cardan protests that he can do just fine, but Madoc warns him to stop before he gets himself thrown in a dungeon instead if his room until the coronation of prince Dain.

Cardan relinquishes and we get the salt prank like before, except Locke is pissed beyond all reason at his foster brother. Cardan doesn't mind until he's grabbed by Edir and Valerian, Locke being pulled by the hair by Jude and both are thrown in the river, which has Nixies in it.

Thier supplies get yeeted, Locke gets pulled out by Valerian and is made to kiss Jude on the lips and both her horns, but, when asked, Cardan does not give up, vowing that he will never give up, which makes Jude laugh and the group leave.

Locke and Cardan walk home, get some baths, and go to bed, except they go to the mortal world with Rhyia and meet her friends Vivienne and Heather at the mall. Vivienne apologizes for Jude's behavior, and we learn that Rhyia is planning to leave Faerie, and is probably going alone.

The boys return and endure a lesson, but Jude pushes Locke's buttons, so Cardan pushes her into a tree. Challenge accepted.

TOURNAMENT TIME!! Cardan fairs wellin that Valerian is lazy, Edir is out of shape, and Jude got cocky, so he wins.

Jude fumes at him, later grabbing him by the tail on his belt amd demanding he beg for her forgiveness. He does... NOT! And spits in her face that she may push him down, but he'll pull her down with him, and it will hurt her like hell.

Taryn approaches him and expresses interest in him, saying that she once took both Edir and Nicasia from Jude because people just like a sensitive girl.

She leaves and the tournament eventually ends, which leads Cardan to return hime and meet Dain, who requested one of Madoc's people to tell Cardan one of Eldred's children had come for a visit.

Dain and Cardan get talking and Dain offers him something that isn't knighthood: spying. Plus one wish.

Cardan knows what he wants: to not be controled.

Granted, but Dain can still control him and the fruits of Faerie will still effect him.

Screwy, but deal, he's a spy now

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!!!!!

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

You don't know how lovely you are.- part VI

Tw⚠️: swearing, medical inaccuracies(on my part)

You moved your hair away as the cold Siberian winds freeze you to the bone. You were anxious to get back home so you can finally talk with Corpse on the phone. You been talking a lot since you last called him, embarrassingly to help you deal with a baby.

This week beat your ass, tests and assignments left and right like they are Oprah. You desperately wanted to go home where is warm and where you can chat your night away with Corpse.

You finally managed to open up a Netflix account so maybe you two could watch something or talk away while you had background noise.

"I swear to God..."

- Ştiu,nu? ("I know right?")

Sabrina said as she sat on the couch, a book in her lap and a hot coffee cup on the table near her.

"Heyyy!"

"Hello,girl!"

She got up to hug you,gasping when her warmth was meet by your cold grey coat , red bare hands and shaking legs dressed in a black striped suit pants and wearing platform heels.

"My , you are practically freezing. Come ,come!"

She grabbed the blanket she's been sitting on and wrapped you with it moving you to sit down.

She left towards the kitchen to your left , you could hear her taking the kettle from one of the cupboards. You shook profoundly as you harshly rubbed your hands, you stared at your dark grey nail polish, twisting it left and right to see the light bounce on it. You lost yourself in thought:

A tattoo on them wouldn't look so bad. Maybe...

"Here."

A cup of green tea, your favourite, was presented before you. You licked your crack lips as you moved your hand to grab it, only to hiss and curse when the heat proved to be double edged.

Sabrina tried to hold her laugh but one look of your pained and disappointed eyes sent her into a burst ,snorting and laughing like a jackass. You began to laugh with her shortly after.

She puffed as she took the armchair in front, the beige coloured of it and the blood red floral blanket draped all over made it stand out. She was so small in comparison with the gigantic size of it. Still you were the shortest of the group.

"How was your day?"

"Switching to English?"

She nodded.

"Hmm..fine.It isn't like I been speaking it for like 6 hours. My day went on,hmmm, ever washed a cat?"

"Ever washed a llama that simply disdain the idea of being even remotely washed?"

"W-What? Nu,deci,nu. You washed a llama?!"

"Yes,ma'am. Got the scar to prove it."

She jumped a bit off her bent leg ,to bring the polar white sweater up , a deep scar healed in a shaky circle stood there. Your eyes blinked in shock.

"Tell. Me."

"Of course, m'lady."

Her cheery tone lighted the grave tune of your morbid curiosity, you did like crime related shows after all.

————————————————————

"How?!" Corpse said in bewilderment, laughing in between.

"I know right? She said she felt every bone in her body putting itself back in the place. Even those in her ears."

Your hands covered by your oversized warm black sweatshirt went crazy as you said the story, stopping only to take a breath or to let the burst of laughter die down.

"Man, your friends are crazy."

"Pleease, when I was like 11-"

"I'm eleven so shut the fuck up."

"Shh, Corpse." You said smiling. "Anyway, when I was eleven years old, I used to play with some girls hide and seek or v-ați ascunselea and somehow my stupid ass managed to land into a tree branch."

"What?"

"Yeah, but not like with my chubby ass body ,noooo sir. With my eye."

"What the fuck, which one?"

"The right one, I have a scar running down it till the start of my lips."

"Wait,how? Do you still see?"

"Oh,yeah."You dismissed the question with a shake of a hand, getting back into the story.

"My folk were so scarred and they have a huge fight with my grandma who was busy with gossiping her neighbours. "

"Oh my fucking--Did it hurt?"

"Oh ,yeah but luckily it healed pretty quickly and now I got a sick scar."

"Do you have other scars?"

"Hmm, hella. My hands and arms are littered with them."

You laughed but stopped yourself when you didn't hear anything from Corpse.

"Um, my petit orchid? Are you..are you there?"

"Did you do them because you...you w-were.. um...um..." His voice ran on jittery and trembling in panic as he haulted to draw a breath and calm whatever nerves caused him to panic.

"Self harming?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Oh! No ,of course not. I hate pain. I have them because I cut myself a lot with my butterfly knife."

"W-With your knife?" He still spoke in shaky syllables.

"Yeah, I learn tricks like pinwheel , helix aerial, kiss goodbye and such."

"And you didn't taped the blade?"

"...I am a very chaotic and lazy person, Corpse."

You two laughed the intensity of the room. Your heart blooming at the idea that Corpse was genuinely worried about you but you sighed, getting ahead of yourself only landed you for disappointment and realistic bitterness.

"You...You were really worried about me there, weren't you Corpse?" You rhetorically asked in a shy manner, your mind and ,more,your heart needed to hear this for some reason.

"Y-Yeah, goofball. You got me there for a second. "

"Awww, don't worry my petit orchid. I ain't going nowhere. "

Not with my heart beating so fast and the pressure I have on my guts and the end of my lungs.

"P-Promise?"

"I would pinky promise the fuck out of you, my little orchid. Unfortunately ,I cannot. "

"Maybe some time in the future ?"

You could hear the smile in his voice, your own grin becoming bigger because of that. This manz raises my serotonin like no one's business.

"Of course, Corpse. Whenever you are ready ."

————————————————————

The rest of the night was spent watching cheap movies ,roasting the unrealistic characters and taking occasional breaks to regain your brain cells back.

"You been quiet."

You jumped ,stabbing your pointing finger with a sewing needle. You hissed as you moved to pull it out of your finger.

"Ghost ,what happened?"

"I was...ah shit...this will hurt."

You clenched your teeth and groaned as you pull the long glimmering needle out ,your skin reddening immediately as a bit of blood sprung out.

"Ghost? Goofball,please answer. "

"Y-yeah, I am fine. You scared me when you started to so the needle I am using went into my finger. It hurts."

"I am sorry,but what do you use the needle for?"

"Decorative sewing. "

"And whatcha making?"

"A flower ...for you!"

"Awww....that's so cute. You don't have to."

"BUT I WANT...I mean it's cool ,don't worry about it."

You stupid fucking dinosaur... You mumbled under your breath as you continued on your work, red cheeks of pure embarrassment.

Your pitiful attempt of covering your slip up was rewarded with one of his angelic chuckles, you seemed to make him laugh a lot. That's a good thing,right? Maybe he's just laughing at your clowny ass...

You huffed, eyebrows knitted in annoyance. Oh how you hated those belittling thoughts, they did nothing but ruin everything for you.

Or maybe you ruin them yourself..

"Shut up!"

"What?"

Ah,shit!

"Sorry ,Corpse, not you. I just...I lost myself in thought, hahaha...yeah thought. "

You slapped yourself so hard,your head was dizzy for it.

"Are you sure everything is fine ,goofball. I am always here for you."

Aww...

You sighed, tired all of sudden. "Yeah, orchid. I am fine,thanks for asking. "

"No need.I care about you, you know? A lot."

The last part was said in such a low tone that your ears couldn't pick it up. Unfortunately for Corpse who was busy playing with his sweater paws to calm his nerves.

"I care about you too ,Corpse. I think I will go. Good night !"

"'Night."

The reason why I am so worried about you ,Ghost, is because I don't think you realise ...

"... how lovely you are."

————————————————————

Hey, guys!💖

Hope you enjoyed the part six of this serie, it's bit shorter but I wanted it to be after the last part.

I am interested in what do you think will happen next.

Stay safe!💗

Tagged💖:@moolujk @magenta-skyline @cherry-piee @yoyoanaria @yikesyikesyikes95 @softboiicorpse @heavenly3308 @simonsbluee @mythicalamphitrite @gaysludge

[twstdreams]

hi there! May I request a vil! s/o x dorm leaders where the reader steals all their magic and harms them :0 thank you so much ♡♡

Later clarified: Villainous!reader, not Vil’s S/O and only unique magic is stolen

Warning: Azul’s portion contains spoilers for episode 3, and side story spoiler for Vil’s part

Riddle Rosehearts

You feign incompetence about Practical Magic. You do so well with ancient incantations but you just can’t get things to move how they’re supposed to!

You humbly ask your dorm leader for help and promise not to complain no matter how strict Riddle is

Riddle lectures you on almost failing a course but internally he is glad you reached out for help rather than having him hunt you down

You gasp as an incorrect spell slips past your lips and targets Riddle. Riddle can immediately feel something is wrong as a wave of your magic washes over him.

You screech and bolt, saying that you’ll go get Trey or an upper-year. Riddle orders you to stop but you continue running. At this point, he shouts “Off with your head!” to stop this madness

Except nothing happens

Riddle keeps casting his spell again and again, more frantic each time it fails

Then he becomes red with rage. You stole his magic! He screams while ordering you to give it back. Instead, you stick out your tongue and disappear around the corner, but not before casting a wind spell that sends him flying backwards

Without fail, Riddle enlists all of the Heartslabyul students to find and capture you

Riddle becomes a dangerous mixture of fear and fury. He must find you or else... Well, he cannot think about horrendous consequences that would follow, nothing short of his future being destroyed. Riddle won’t allow it, he can’t afford to.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona hears hurried footsteps, someone hastily running away as he awakes from his nap

He catches a glimpse of your backside but doesn’t think much of it. Some herbivore got scared of his presence and ran, big deal

But there’s something off. His instinct senses it and his mind tries to find clues to confirm or reject his feeling

Leona notices a little prick on his arm, one he’s sure that wasn’t there before. He didn’t nap near any prickly plants, so how did this happen?

His eyes land on an herb, used in ancient incantations and curses, one that he knows NRC doesn’t cultivate because of its dangers and costs

He growls and tests out his magic. The basics seem to work but when he tries to turn a nearby flower to sand, nothing happens

Leona lets out a ferocious roar and immediately tries to follow your scent. You were smart, the garden is filled with too many fragrant species for him to be able to pick out your trace

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hits him as a magic circle appears before his feet. The clever lion breaks the spell but it only adds to his anger

 Leona wastes no time in delivering orders to the rest of Savanaclaw, not letting anyone know that his magic was stolen but simply that you had transgressed greatly against Savanaclaw. He probably says you insulted Savanaclaw or were actively trying to sabotage them

He has Jack try to follow your scent and Ruggie find any information possible

You’ve provoked the wrong person and Leona is determined to teach you that. He might be lazy but he wouldn’t let this go. He was going to take back his unique magic and let you taste firsthand why it frightened so many of the servants back home

Malleus Draconia

He should have known better. Of course, it was cursed. You claimed you wanted to share friendship bracelets with the dorm leader and he let his amusement get the best of him.

Oh? What an odd custom but he supposes he’ll indulge you for a while. It seems harmless enough, your questionable craftsmanship showing through uneven knots. You were even wearing a matching one yourself.

Later, as the spell activates when you are far from his reach, Malleus realizes too late your true malicious intentions

Prepare to pay the price

This is an act of war. Malleus is the ruler of the Valley of Thorns and he won’t let you get away with this. The implications of such an act are enormous.

It’s almost impressive if it wasn’t so unbelievably dangerous, for both him and you. While he’s still a strong magician regardless of his unique magic, it’s still important to him and dangerous in the wrong hands. You’re not quite safe either, his unique magic isn’t something just anyone can use and it puts you in danger of overblotting.

Malleus wanted a friend but it seems he’s gotten an enemy instead. The injury isn’t severe for the strong fae but the wound to his heart and pride are far greater. He wonders if he being less open and crueller would have prevented this predicament. The repercussions of losing his powers and what that means considering his position are not lost

There is an immediate hunt for you that won’t end until you’re captured and Malleus has his magic returned. Naturally, Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and many school members will join the hunt, but if it’s not resolved quickly then fae from his homeland will be brought in too

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is oh so careful. His long contracts are proof as much. He thinks it’s any normal contract, you a stupid unfortunate student that needs some help for Trein’s upcoming history test

He tells you to read the terms and conditions, which you move to your lap to read. You read the first page, skim the next, and he can tell by the fourth page you’re not really paying attention anymore. You rapidly flip the pages, fingers tracing a line or two before you inevitably give up and sign the last page

You thank him with a singsong voice and happily accept his study guide. He thanks you in return for your business and you’re both on your merry way.

Except when he opens his vault, it’s empty. He has the most horrid sense of deja vu. He runs out of his office and demands that Floyd chase after you only to find out you’ve already left the dorm

Once he explains the situation to Jade, the vice dorm leader tries to ensure that Azul doesn’t overblot again while providing Floyd with enough information to track you down

Azul and Jade pour over the contract he just made with you to extract anything that could help them locate you or expose a weakness when Azul nearly shrieks. A clause in the contract has been changed! When? How?! You must have somehow altered the contract with your own magic! That should be impossible yet it was his current reality

Azul is incapable of resting until you’re found. He worked so hard to perfect his unique magic. He thought that losing the contracts was horrid but this was even worse.

He’s teetering on the edge, trying his best not to break down, but it’s dangerous and no one in the Octavinelle dorm feels safe. He knows rationally that he still has his alchemy skills along with his normal magic but Azul feels sick to his stomach without his beloved unique magic

Vil Schoenheit

You came to him between classes on an off chance where he was alone. You explain that you were from Octavinelle and Azul was hoping Vil would test his new lotion! Vil rarely did work for free but last time he had requested some skincare from Azul it had worked out wonderfully, so he decided to accept

A week later, Vil had an unbearable stomach ache. Given Vil strictly controlled his diet and routine, he immediately deduced something was wrong with the lotion as it was the only recent change. After receiving some help from Rook and accessing some medical supplies, the pain passed but Vil’s rage did not

As an act of comfort or some semblance of control, Vil attempted to use his unique magic only to find it fail him. Vil worked hard to improve his unique magic, so to have it fail him sent the magician storming Octavinelle

He demands an explanation from Azul only to find out that every single word you spilled was a lie. Vil does his best to stay in control but fury runs through his veins unchecked. He clenches his hands hard enough to draw blood

Vil demands Rook hunt you down and bring you grovelling before his knees like the traitor you are. He plans to use his knowledge in potions to ensure you experience a blood-curdling punishment that will teach you a lesson permanently

Vil is not above using his large social media gathering to gain information about you, though he might tailor the story he tells his followers, simply telling them that you had transgressed against him

Vil’s mood becomes unstable. He is used to being in control and for his hard work to be rewarded but your little scheme threatens everything. This is nothing short of a nightmare that he plans on ending no matter what

[mxtcha-tea]

Lines.

✎desc; how I would rate haikyuu character's drawing.

✎team[s]; fukurodani, inarizaki

✎genre; crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; okay, first off, I'm not a professional drawer but I can still rate drawings. This idea just came to me like a minute ago and I had to do it now, so enjoy :)

fukurodani.

Bokuto

Aight, I see that we started off greatly.

In all honesty, he have no idea how to draw,

And of course his drawing would look,,,, quite terrible i'm so sorry bokuto lovers

He's that kid in art class where's when the teacher already told them what to draw,

Bokuto sat there on his chair, staring at the canvas

Like, what is he suppose to do? Draw?

Well, yeah technically but what???

I can totally see him frustratingly erase the sketch if it can be called as a sketch

And then proceed to try to copy other people's work

Keyword; try

It's bad but at least he had an effort to finish it

4/10, there I said it

Akaashi

His drawings are not that professional but it's pretty

Have you ever seen a drawing that you wanted to stare at it for hours until you're satisfied?

That what's his drawing are like

Not typically an art kid so he's fine when student's from his art class asked him to draw for them

And is feeling pretty neutral with his talent (he actually won't call it a talent but more like a hobby or sum)

And just say 'thanks' if peoples compliments his drawing

Let say his drawing is, a good 8/10

A decent drawer in conclusion :)

Konoha

Not a bad drawer but he rather keep it basic

Konoha's prolly too lazy to draw something over the top so he's just gonna draw flower or something ksndnzkj

Sometimes sleep during art class and had to ask what they had to draw

Proceeds to decently draws a scenery

He's totally not the creative kid so whenever the teach tell them to draw something, he'll always go with basket of fruits, like,

Man, I appreciated the drawing but at least put some effort on thinking what to draw

The art teacher also kept telling him that he have raw talent and should enhance the skill more,

But that never happened, no

"Sorry ma'am, I'll just stick to volleyball, thank you,"

One part of the art room has a section of konoha's basket of fruits drawings but in different mediums

Rating is 7/10

Washio

IS actually an art kid and you cannot convince me otherwise

Has a small sketchbook with him and he'll always doodle when he's bored or in a middle of a lecture (while taking notes of course)

His main skill in drawing tho is painting

The colors blends in so well with one another and he's good at picking color palettes

Also, he doesn't really get that annoyed if some kids from his class ask him to teach them how to draw

Or even look through his sketchbook

He'll just nod and hand it to them without a second thought

Ajsjdhsijsi Washio get so blushy when someone compliments his drawing,,,,

I’ll give a 10/10 :), congrats

Sarukui

The best that he can do is doodles of owls and other shits but other than that, he cannot do

But the doodles are kinda cute doe ngl

He’ll have his moment where he’s in class and have no idea what to do, and just doodles a bunch of stuff

Once he draw his whole teammate including his coach and himself, he thought to himself,

“Huh, this looks good,”

And then take a picture of it for memories (cause he might throw the book he’s doodling in away)

Speaking of that, he doesn’t have an official book for drawing and just draws in his english or math’s textbook or sum

His juniors eyes are blessed when they got his textbook

Sarukui just vibes in during art class, draws and that’s pretty much it

The drawings,,,,,eh,,,, not that good, he only specialize in doodling as I said

so in conclusion,

drawing? 2/10

doodling? I’ll give a solid 5/10, good job

Komi

I’m gonna say this and I’m prolly gonna say it again

He hates art class

Like, even with him trying his best to draw, it’ll always gonna look strange than what he planned

mf cannot draw a straight line in art class

This dood can draw a nice straight line in any other class whether it’s for a graph or others,

And then proceed to shakily draw a straight line during art session

Totally not an art kid and will never be one

His drawings,,,,

I’m so sorry but it looks so bad

It’ll prolly look a lot better if he put more effort, but it’ll still look bad no matter what

Komi hates art class and can’t draw even a decent doodle so unfortunately, I’ll have to rate it 0/10, sorry :(

Anahori

His drawings are eh

It’s not good but also not bad?

Sometimes you’ll just stare at his drawing for a good minute and be like, what did he just draw just now?

What I’m saying is that his drawing’s are unexplainable

Maybe if you stare at it a little bit longer then it’ll make sense and you can see the beauty in it

But honestly I can’t really see anything, not in a bad way, but like, literally nothing

You’ll be staring at his canvas as the mario kart rainbow road music started playing inside your head

But Anahori is always proud of his drawings no manner what

So, I’ll rate confusion/10

Onaga

Just like Komi, he sorta hates art class too

But lemme tell ya, his sketches are GODLY, like, have you seen those pinterest hand sketches?

That’s what his sketch would look like

It’s so yummy to look at what

But he sucks at lineart so JAHGSDSHD

Onaga cannot properly hold the black pen and do the lineart, it’ll always turn wonky and he had to throw it away

Like, if he spend even hours tryna outline it all, and then erase it

It’ll look so trash

And he’ll just stare at it for a couple of minutes before crumpling the paper

He’ll also suck at coloring

Mans cannot understand how the color blend in together

And I think I’ll rate,,,,,6/10 just cause he suck at coloring and lineart lmao don’t worry i suck at coloring too

Kaori

Another decent drawer and her drawings are almost the same as Akaashi’s

But instead of it looking pretty, it looks cute

I have a headcanon that Kaori have a journal and does journaling so that’s prolly the reason why her drawings are cute af

But honestly, her drawings sometimes depends on her mood,

If she’s mad or frustrated, her drawing would look kinda rough and not that cute anymore

If she’s feeling happy tho, It’ll look so nice and cuddly does that even make any sense

Isn’t necessarily an art kid but would love to try be one

And she totally have drawing sessions with Washio aaaaaa,

Just imagine both of them sketching in the same sketchbook while talking about the volleyball club or anything else

She’s getting an 9/10 just cause her sketchs looks clean <33

Yukie

She doesn’t draw at all

Like, you’ll never see her drawing at any kind of time so you have no idea what it looks like

Yukie would still attend art class,

But never draws

She said that she’s pretty lazy to draw it and said to draw it at her home later

But no one even saw that drawing after that

Yukie doesn’t show her drawings nor EVEN draw for once

So I technically can’t rate :/

inarizaki.

Ginjima

LISTEN

The only reason why I started with Gin is because he have some amazing drawing skills

He admit that he’s not an art kid but draws godly as if he had been thought since he was a kid,

Well, actually yes

I think Ginjima actually wanted to be a drawer when he was still a little kid way before he started his 3rd year of middle school

So he practiced a few and became a nice drawer since then,

But he kinda quit being a drawer and decided to go with volleyball

And guess what?

His drawing talent is still there

He totally specialize in pencil drawing cause that’s the first thing he started learning

The lines are smooth and the shading are so yummy what is wrong with me

The Miya twins and Suna are so sh00ked when he saw his drawing during art class

ngl he’s pretty smug about it too but doesn’t brag about it

I’ll give this boy 12/10, mwuaah

Suna

I hate this man for this sole reason

Suna is too LAZY to draw so he doesn’t give any effort in his drawing

I can guarantee myself that I’ll get an eye strain when I saw his drawing

And...

*wipes away tears*

He draws too many dick

–2/10

Don’t come for my head Suna lovers

Atsumu

OMFG

OKAY, OKAY, I KNOW THAT ATSUMU MIGHT PUT ON SOME EFFORT IN HIS DRAWINGS,

BUT WHY IS IT STILL SO BAD?????

He’ll prolly think his drawing would look good but no, it’s not

No matter on what perspective you look his drawings at, It’ll still look bad

AND HE DOESN’T EVEN NOTICE IT

Osamu laughs a lot at his drawing and they started fighting for that only reason smh

Atsumu, I appreciate your effort so SO much,

But please, just stick to volleyball

–10+/10

I put a plus there because of his effort and because of pity

Osamu

He draws in ms paint, with a mouse

But he can draw some foods tho

But all of it looks wonky af

1/10

Akagi

A pretty decent drawer

Akagi always draw happy and cute drawings so you’ll also get happy when you saw his drawings

Puts on a big smile when people compliments his drawing and shyly scratches the back of his neck

“Nah, this just look normal!”

But he draws oddly thick lines sometimes

Sometimes it looks good in some drawing

And sometimes it looks, bizzare in others...

But I think his drawing would look nice <3

Overall, I’ll give a,,, 7.5/10, keep up the good work

Oomimi

He’s from class 7 AND I really think that he’ll be good at drawing

Well, he can draw a few things but he struggles drawing other things he never accustomed to

But!

Oomimi is that kid who’s good at drawing scenery

He knows basic color palettes and which is cold and hot colors

So the scenery drawing would always look good

He get a lot of compliments for the drawing (50% of it from Akagi)

I think he doesn’t have that many time to relax and draw freely but when he does have it, it’ll just be small and simple doodles

um, let’s go with 8/10 <3

Aran

I truly believe that Aran can draw peoples face but in a pretty decent amount

He’s also good with anatomy teach me your ways king

But as much as he’s good at that, he kinda sucks at drawing any kind of background drawings

Mans can’t draw a scenery I’m telling you

As if the background doesn’t even exist in his mind lolol I’m sorry Aran lovers, I didn’t mean that in a bad way

Mainly uses copic markers to color and color pencils to shade

The first time he use the copic marker, he got really frustrated that the marker stain the other pages lmao

And he never uses digital drawing applications or softwares

Aran just doesn’t

I think I’ll rate him, 8.5/10

Kita

Okay, I know that Kita’s a top student and never fails in anything

But he’s not typically a good drawer that much

His drawing still got good marks but when you look at it, it just looks normal

I just know that the Kita lovers gonna get me after this

It’s not that bad and not that good, just a nice balance in between

I personally think Kita’s not that godly in drawing but rather a neutral drawer

He draw what he can and does shading and coloring when it’s needed

The colors are all basic colors, no pastel, no neon

And the shadings are pretty basic

Just a normal drawer here

Ya’ll gonna fight me for this but I’ll give Kita’s point,

7/10

[dokuhebi]

Submission from: @raichoose Kabuto

He lies in their bed, and though he hasn’t quite indicated he’s awoken, he’s certain they can feel his eyes on them. He’s watching them dress - something he might be persuaded to coyly refer to as a favored pastime, with how often he tends to observe them - and as badly as he wishes to get up and go to them, to playfully kiss any patches of pale skin not yet clothed, like he normally would -

For once, he hesitates.

During their time apart, Kabuto had offered his services to Konoha’s hospital, yet primarily remained focused on the orphanage there instead. Science and progress and medicine, near and dear to his heart as they were, hadn’t quite factored into his post-war life. The same cannot be said for Orochimaru, whom he might playfully refer to as a busy bee had he not preferred to reference flowers or snakes.

Truthfully, he missed working beside them in the laboratory - misses, really, he has so much to get caught up on, even though they’ve been able to conduct experiments on their serpent patients together. Nearly two decades might not seem like a lot of time in the face of the immortality Orochimaru has finally achieved, he supposes -

But it’s a lot to me. I’m still … mortal.

“ … Orochimaru.”

His voice breaks through the quiet of the room, and Kabuto reaches out, beckoning for them to come back to bed.

“Let’s stay here for a few more minutes. Karin can check on our patients. Even Suigetsu can, if he proves competent enough to do so.”

A joke, followed by a pause. He doesn’t want to worry them - after all, it’s not as if his health is in decline - but Kabuto can’t help but voice the direction his morning musings have taken him in.

“That is to say - I wish I could stay here. Permanently. I’d miss my brother and the children, of course, but … ” He swallows thickly. “I don’t like the thought of losing time with you. I’ve lost enough already, haven’t I? And it scares me to think that you found your eternity, and I … Honey, I don’t know how much time I have left, and decades won’t feel very long to someone who has all of time at their disposal.”

He’s not sure why his heart is gripped with a foreign hesitancy, then, almost as if Kabuto is proposing to them, in some way, and he’s nervous about what Orochimaru might say.

“ … Back then, the plan was to make me immortal, too, right? Is that still the plan? … Can I have eternity with you?”

The serpent indulges themself in a lazy morning, a rarity if ever there was one for someone like them. They were so often up all night, or at least awakening long before the sun did. But things are a little different now that Kabuto is back in their life. Now that their bed has become a favourite place for the both of them to spend time in. Nights and mornings spent hidden under warm sheets together, talking or fooling around, reassuring one another or merely enjoying the others silence. Suddenly the time allocated in the day for rest is not a burden or nuisance for the Sannin, suddenly they quite enjoy it. So they had allowed Karin to start the day in the laboratory, not yet showing up in their own hideout to lead the project as they usually would. Karin could handle it on her own, and frankly, so could their eldest son Rogu, who would hover about ensuring his parent’s orders were being upheld. They idly unlace their night kimono, about to slip out of the soft fabrics to replace them with a more daytime appropriate garment. A longer kimono, a little warmer in case they had to step outside. But they have not yet shrugged their night kimono off when they hear their partner call their name. Only a slender hand holding together the open front, as the silken ribbon that tied it around their waist now settles over the dresser.  Something is off, they can tell by his voice, even as he jokes, even as he tries to not worry them.  So they return to his side before he even has to beckon for them to, and they find their seat beside him, pale legs catching the candlelight of the room as they hang elegantly off the edge still. They lightly take his chin in their fingers, to ensure he looks them in the eyes, a silent prompt that he needed to say what was on his mind, rather than hide behind any jokes at Suigetsu’s expense. Not because they care for the shark like mans wellbeing of course. They only wish to force their partner’s fears out in to the open. How could they help him if they didn’t know what was wrong after all? And then he voices his concern, the mention of his mortality has their gaze narrowing in shared concern. Wondering if there was something that had him fearing his clock ticking over sooner than expected. But then he finishes. He is still young enough that the immortality technique would preserve and cement him in this world. Why, the Sannin was far older when they cheated death and reversed their clock. Currently looking half Kabuto’s age, when he is actually half their age. But eternal youth is not a game to be played fairly. They abandoned their age like a serpent does a shed skin. Renewed.  A fanged smile greets him, as they lean down to kiss his lips, tenderly, but also a little sternly. As if they chide his question in some playful manner. Drawing back, their golden eyes catch in his midnight pair, and their expression remains most enamored and loving, “I threw an absolute tantrum when you left me the first time my sweet prince,” they tease, another kiss placed to the top of his head this time, as they correct his hair thereafter, and return his glasses from the side table to his face, so he can see their genuine gaze all the more clearly, “what in all the universes made you think I would want to see you leave me again?” Slender fingers caress down the side of his cheek, as they then draw the sheets open so they can tuck themself under them beside their partner. Deciding there was no need to hurry and get dressed after all, deciding they were quite happy to fit their smaller form in the curve his body makes especially for them, “you aren’t going anywhere my love. I told you long ago you would want for nothing, that I would give you all I have to give. Eternity just so happens to be one of the gifts I have to offer. It is yours whenever you want it.”

[veenussposts]

Mingi as a demigod (and your boyfriend)

Mingi was always a lazy person who found it difficult to be punctual and maintain an orderly lifestyle. However, he always did things well even if he had no idea what he was doing.

And things didn't change when he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, after trying to be killed by a minotaur as he walked back home.

After being claimed by his father, the God of war, Mingi continued with his same attitude as always and, unintentionally, quickly climbed into the hierarchy of his cabin. He was just good at fighting, he was honestly the best, even though he never had any training in the art of war.

He only had fun with Apollo's sons and daughters and yet no one was able to beat him in a battle. The laurel crown was his over a year ago and no one could take it away from him.

But everything changed when you arrived.

"Who is he?" Mingi asked one of his sisters who was observing all the commotion that was forming in the camp due to the arrival of a squad commanded by you.

"He is a roman demigod, one of the leaders of Camp Jupiter, the only child of Bellona the goddess of war, destruction and devastation"

"Uff, it's a very long and intimidating name for a boy. I bet he's not that good"

With determined and somewhat haughty steps, Mingi came towards you with his chin up to ask you to a duel. The warriors under your command looked at each others scared when they heard Mingi challenging you. What did you do? You laughed at him and then completely ignored him.

Or at least that's what Mingi believed because even though it didn't seem like it, you really paid attention to him. At a glance you realized that, after being rejected, that son of Ares made vibrate some swords while walking back to his cabin.

You had a slight suspicion of why that happened but there was only one way to check it.

It was a normal day after a chat with the director of the Greek camp, you were on the banks of the great lake meditating when you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach. Someone was watching you. With a single movement, you unsheathed your sword and threw it towards where your instincts told you.

"If this were a real fight you would already be dead" Your sword was pointed at his forehead as it floated in midair. With a single wave of your hand, your sword turned towards you and came back to its place.

"What... Ho-how did you do that? You... how did you manage to stop it before... and..."

"I didn't stop it, you did" Mingi's eyes widened, looking at you in surprise. "The weapons obey you, they will do whatever you tell them to do. You can even fight with them even if you don't have them in your hands"

"But my brothers cannot do that"

"That is because only a few are blessed with the gifts of their parents. Some children of Apollo can heal, others cannot. They are gifts that have to be used and I am willing to help you, son of Ares, even if it goes against my principles as a descendant of a Roman Goddess "

And that was how Mingi, dumbfounded by the way your tan skin shone in the sun's rays, agreed to train with you.

Things were going well, too well. Mingi was more powerful than you imagined and could follow your strict training without problems.

As the days passed, your stomach felt strange sensations and it wasn't your sixth sense. It was something else.

"Am I in love with a Greek demigod? Oh my Jupiter"

On the other hand, Mingi was totally in love with you. Every cell in his body went into ecstasy every morning when he saw you, he seemed to be flying through the clouds every time he saw you smile and the mere fact of listening to your compliments when he did something right blushed his cheeks.

"He is very cute"

"I think you are the only person in the world who thinks that he is cute. Brother, every time I look at him I feel like a deer being analyzed by its predator. He's scary"

"Yeah, that's one of his many charms. Ahh, he's magnificent"

Your swords collided, they withdrew and returned to find ways to outdo each other and catch up with their opponent. A slight whistle accompanied the movement of both, indicating the speed of your movements and your location.

"I'm sorry to inform you that this fight will be won by me" Mingi said as his eyes closely followed you.

"Don't sing victory yet, redhead"

Your swords collided again and both of you continued to dance across the training ground in a fight that never seemed likely to end because neither was ready to lose.

You, who at the time were leading the initiative, attacked while Mingi defended himself. He leaped back, accurately moved his hand, and one of his two swords, which he had previously lost in a counterattack against you, shot out at top speed. You barely had enough time to turn around and dodge the attack, consequently your opponent's weapon cut a piece of your purple cloak that was part of your armor.

"Well if this was a real fight you would already be dead" The cold metal of his weapon was leaning against your neck while a silly little smile was drawn on his lips as you stood up slowly. "Can I sing victory now?"

"I don't think so" The smile on his face faded when he saw out of the corner of his eye your great sword, pointed at him in midair. "I think you are dead"

"Yeah, but dead of love for you"

Your eyes widened like saucers and Mingi's hand that didn't hold the sword opened, letting it drop to the ground. His cheeks started to turn deep red like his hair as he tried to look anywhere but you.

Hell, he had screwed up. Surely you were going to reject him, surely you would laugh at...

"In that case... I guess I'm dead too" Before Mingi could understand your answer, your strong arms were around his waist, drawing him towards you. You were so close that you could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, your noses were rubbing against each other and your lips were only a few millimeters apart. "I... I also like you, too much for my liking but I couldn't help it"

Mingi leaned his head forward and kissed you, softly at first, and then with immense passion causing you to cling to him as if there was no tomorrow. His lips were caressing your trembling lips, sending shocks of electricity along your back, causing emotions that you had never thought you were capable of feeling.

Mingi almost went crazy when you confessed with a blush on your cheeks that he was your first boyfriend. For that reason, you weren't quite sure how to act in certain situations.

Despite being stoic, strict and not very good with words, Mingi knew that you loved him because your actions showed it. For example: the time you were training and it started to rain, without thinking twice you took off your cape to cover Mingi so he wouldn't catch a cold.

HE LOVES PLAYING WITH YOUR LONG HAIR. He could be brushing, stroking, or just playing with it all day.

"Just relax, I'll wash your hair for you"

He is capable of sending a sword flying to anyone who dares to speak ill of you.

"I'd fight the whole world for you and I don't care how cheesy that sounds"

Mingi says and does things on purpose to embarrass you for his own amusement such as calling you by cute nicknames in front of your legion or dancing while he was wearing your golden armor.

You haven't tell the others about your relationship but all the demigods in both camps know that your are a couple.

Gets giggle because of your existence and blushes when you kiss him.

The biggest cuddle bear ever.

When you had to leave Camp Half-Blood to return to Camp Jupiter Mingi did his best to keep you from leaving but, unfortunately, it was your duty and you had to leave. The first night without you he cried because he missed you.

Now, Mingi is only in Camp Half-Blood the summers, the rest of the days he lives in Camp Jupiter with you.

He sleeps on your chest because he says your skin is very soft and warm, he feels calm and protected in your arms.

"You're ridiculously comfortable"

His cellphone password is the date of your birthday and as a wallpaper he has a photo of you smiling after the daughters of Venus combed your hair in a large braid decorated with flowers.

Every summer at Camp Half-Blood, Mingi tells the new demigods how magnificent his boyfriend is, telling them that he is the most powerful person ever born, that perhaps you were the reincarnation of a hero like Hercules. Sometimes just to bother you, he tells you to go to the camp to sign autographs because everyone admires you but not as much as he does.

Worries about your safety 24/7.

"Zeus, I was very worried"

"It was just a reconnaissance mission, baby. There's nothing to worry about"

You never fight, you have a healthy and prosperous relationship, but sometimes when you have had a stressful day you ignore each other unintentionally.

In conclusion, just being with Mingi makes you happy. That redhead, son of Ares, has completely changed your life in a wonderful, magnificent and extraordinary way.