#we get harvest festival animated

[1randomperson15]

Augh I love this panel so muchhh. The misfit's demonic expressions make me !!!

[ghost-1-y]

Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.” 

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout. 

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

 “A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr. 

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as. 

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me? 

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?” 

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself. 

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?” 

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you. 

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.” 

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you. 

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?” 

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave. 

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm. 

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted. 

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!” 

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold. 

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you! Apologies for the inconvenience.

[catmeow06]

Could helluva boss be facing some budget problems?

So it’s no surprise that season two has been a confusing clusterfuck but have you really noticed how this season feels very rushed and unfinished?

a good example is the voice actors

Last year a lot of people were confused about why loona was mute in western energy viv went onto twitter and say she couldn’t afford her voice actor so loona was going to be mute and have a few scenes for a few episodes…

Now you already know that’s some bs because viv has the money to have Kesha voice act a character in two episodes and have Alex brightman voice THREE characters and oh yeah the guy who voices Jafar from Aladdin yet the character who is part of the main cast has to have less speaking dialogue because you can’t pay the voice actor😑🤨

another example is moxxie and Millie not showing up in three episodes now look you can say that oops the mammon episode apology tour was Blitzo focused episodes hence why they were not in it but you have to admit it’s still weird how they couldn’t get their own focus episode (harvest moon festival and exes and oohs) yet blitzo can get three episodes (and a short) to himself

and then you have Viv wasting the animators time on making unnecessary animations stolas getting a music video and the 4 mini episodes like let’s be real season two could of ended last year if she and spindlehorse were actually doing their job instead of blowing the budget on random filler content

and if you still don’t think they are struggling to finish season two then look at the million merchandise they keep releasing they are so desperate to continue the show and get money they are making anything into merch we all remember the slur shirt incident 

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt.3

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: Wednesday drags you into the woods during the harvest festival.

a/n: I'm starting to get tired of writing in 3rd person so I'm going to be experimenting with perspectives this part. If I enjoy it I might go back and change the previous two parts to first person.

"Are you sure you can trust that normie?"

Enid and I are watching as Tyler is arguing with his father. Y/n left after the appearance of Tyler.

A part of me wished she stayed, she doesn't pretend to get along with me.

"I trust I can handle myself."

The festival illuminates the dark night, the lights of the attractions drawing shadows of the people walking by. The colors stabbing needles in my eyes.

I usually enjoy that sensation.

"Well, good luck and safe travels." Enid reaches out for an embrace. I take a step back, evading her touch.

"Still not a hugger, got it." Enid lowers her arms before heading towards the attractions.

I notice Weems from afar, watching my every move. I am going to need a way to distract her.

After a moment of exploring I find an attraction where you throw darts at balloons attached to a wall, the prize lacks colors. Not that I want the prize anyways I just need it to be believable.

I throw the first couple darts, balloons popping in quick succession. Xavier approaches, resting his elbows on the counter.

"Jeez, if you get any better at this you'll be taking home a whole pack." He says while I throw another dart, followed by the pop of another balloon.

I am unsure of how to feel about Xavier so far. All I know outside of me accidentally rescuing him years ago is that he's friends with Y/n.

"Panda's don't travel in packs, they prefer solitude."

I say, the sound of a balloon popping announcing the period.

"Alright, subtle hint taken." His eyes fall off me and to the board.

I look at him for a moment. "You should know I'm waiting for someone." I say, not realizing the possible implication of the statement.

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky guy? or girl." He has a hint of hope on his face, but not for himself.

"What does it matter to you?" I say while Tyler approaches from behind, the hope on his face replaced with annoyance.

"Didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not." Xavier walks between Tyler and I, the energy radiating off him.

With him and y/n being friends and having similar reactions to Tyler, it makes me wonder if he's done something to them.

I look to Tyler for a moment, possibilities forming in my head. It doesn't matter, I'm just using him anyways.

"This is gonna be trickier than I thought." Tyler's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Dad hit me with a curfew. We need to go if I'm gonna make it back in time."

"I've got some dead weight I need to lose first." I look over Tyler's shoulder to Weems who is eating a burger.

"Meet me behind the parking lot when the fireworks start." I say, Tyler nodding before walking off.

The man running the attraction approaches with the panda stuffed animal. "You see that sad, lonely woman over there?" I take out twenty dollars, holding it between my index and middle fingers.

"She needs this pathetic validation more than I do. Would you mind distracting her?"

The man brings the stuffed animal to Weems, when she looks away from me I sneak off towards the parking lot.

-

I'm hanging out with Enid when Tyler and Wednesday pass by.

"So she's actually leaving?" I say with disappointment in my voice. I'm gonna miss her existing with me in the dorm room.

"I mean, that's what the plan is." Enid takes a sip from a drink she got while eyeing me suspiciously.

"Why?" Enid's eyes glisten, wanting to know everything about everyone.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know."

"You sure you don't know?" Enid wiggles her eyebrows at you.

I raise an eyebrow at her accusation. "What does that even mean?"

"I just think you might, y'know, like like her. No one misses a new roommate after one day." Enid says, fidgeting with the straw of her drink.

I felt a wave a heat rush over my face. "No! what are you talking about."

"OMG you so totally do!" If being a werewolf came with a tail, Enid's tail would be wagging so fast she would be flying.

"No! I just think." I pause for a second, flustered by the accusations.

I haven't thought about it yet, do I like her? I mean she is pretty, but I don't know her.

"Just think what?"

"I don't know, she's just pretty that's all!"

Enid's face beams. "Ah! that's so cute!"

Enid was gonna continue speaking until you both get distracted by Wednesday and Tyler running past.

"Wednesday?" I say, looking back to Enid who is gesturing me to go.

I started to run after her, hearing Enid shout from behind. "Go get her girl!" She might as well have painted my face red.

I finally catch up. "Wednesday!" This causing her to turn to me, bumping into Rowan as she enters another vision.

Tyler and I are quick to grab her as she falls. "What just happened?!" Tyler asks before she comes back to reality.

Wednesday stands readjusting her balance, staring at Rowan.

"Wednesday we need to go." Tyler says urgently. Wednesday's eye contact shift to me before she starts chasing after Rowan, grabbing me by the wrist.

"What's happening Wednesday?" I say, trying to keep up with Wednesday's speed as she drags me.

"Rowan come back!" Wednesday let's go of my wrist after my feet catch up.

After a few seconds of running, Wednesday turns to look at me.

"Do you have your wand?"

"Yeah I always do."

Air quickly fills and leaves my chest, your legs start burning at the sudden activity.

Soon we both catch up to Rowan in the woods. You're eyes take a minute to adjust to the sudden darkness of the forest.

Rowan brings his inhaler to his face, taking a deep breath in.

"Rowan, wait!" Wednesday's steps lessen as we get closer

Rowan groans, annoyed. "What do you want? Why are you following me."

I look at Wednesday, wanting to know what's happening. I know she had a vision, but what did she see?

"I don't have time to explain, but you're in danger." Wednesday responds with a serious tone. This is the first time I've heard her this serious, she usually has a sarcastic tone to her voice.

Rowan chuckles for a moment. "I think you've got it backwards." Rowan looks between us deciding what to do.

I start to reach for my wand, his eyes following my hand.

Rowan reaches a hand towards me. I start flying through the air, it feels like an invisible hand is twisting my body controlling how I'm landing.

"Y/n!" Wednesday shouts before I hit my head on landing. My hair fading to white as I lose consciousness.

-

I wake up in the nurses office, quickly sitting up and instantly regretting it. My snow white hair in my face while the world spins around me.

The office is filled with daylight, what time is it?

I realize my hair is white before moving it out of my face.

"Shit." I mutter to myself, looking around to see if anyone's around before trying to stand to find the bathroom.

When I stand, I almost fall as I stabilize my feet. I see my wand on the night stand.

I grab my wand, gripping it tightly as to not drop it.

As I approach the bathroom, I stumble onto the wall before practically falling through the doorway of the bathroom.

I met my own gaze in the reflection of the mirror, my hair white and messy.

I rest one hand on the sink, putting all my weight on it, as I bring my wand to the top of my head.

y/h/c starts to fade back into your hair, starting from the roots to tip.

Now that looks more like me, well besides how out of it I look.

I go to leave the bathroom, falling to the ground past the doorway.

"Y/n!" There are quick steps as the nurse approaches me trying to stand.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She grabs my arm before guiding me back to the bed.

"Wait here a moment, I'll bring your medicine." The nurse walks to a closet as I stay sitting up.

My head was throbbing, the world spinning around me.

She leaves the closet after a moment with a small bottle that is rapidly bubbling, some sort of steam coming out of the bottle.

"Drink every last drop and you should be able to attend some of your classes today." Our nurse was the only other witch in the school, most magic parents aren't too keen on sending their child to a town that burnt witches in the past.

I start to drink the potion, the liquid bubbling down my throat almost causing me to gag.

"It doesn't taste too good." I say after I finish drinking the potion. The nurse grabbing the bottle from my hand

"Well it's not grape-flavored, I'll tell you that." The nurse gives me a smile before going to return the bottle.

The world soon stabilizes around me, my head no longer throbbing.

I stand, finding it ten times easier.

"Fascinating isn't it?" I hear the nurse from the other room. "I've always loved healing magic."

I look towards her. "I would say it's just like magic, but it literally is."

The nurse smiles at me. "If you're feeling better you may head to class."

-

I walk into my carnivorous plants class, everyone already in seats as class was already going on.

"Ah Y/n! glad to see you're okay." Ms. Thornhill interrupts herself to bring her attention to you. "Go ahead and take any seat like usual."

I was going to find my original seat next to Xavier until I see Wednesday sitting alone.

I take a moment to decide before taking the seat next to her, meeting Xavier's eyes as he gives me a knowing glance causing me to roll my eyes.

My glance moves to Wednesday as I find her looking at me, more specifically my hair.

"Hey Wednesday." Wednesday's gaze moves from my hair to my eyes.

Her look has concern in it, as if she's asking 'Are you okay,' through her eyes. Too scared of the intimacy of actually asking.

Ms. Thornhill was helping a student independently giving us a moment to talk.

"Why did your hair turn white last night, after you lost consciousness."

I look at Wednesday, thinking about what I should share.

"That white is my natural hair color, I was just raised to hide it so I guess I still do it out of habit."

Wednesday stares off to the side for a moment.

"What does it mean?"

After a moment of silence I decide to tell her, I open my mouth to explain until I'm interrupted by Ms. Thornhill addressing the class.

"Wednesday." Both of our heads perk up.

"We are thrilled to have join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants." Thornhill walks in front of her desk, next to a plant in a glass case.

"Now, who can tell us the name of this beauty?"

Thornhill addresses the flower in the case with her hand. Bianca is the first to raise her hand.

I'm also not the biggest fan of Bianca, she supposedly used her Siren Song on my friend Xavier to manipulate him.

I don't really know too many details about it, but I know she hurt my friend and that's enough for me.

"Dendrophylax lindenii." Wednesday answers without raising her hand, trying to get ahead of Bianca.

Bianca slowly lowers her hand, with a little bit of attitude.

"Otherwise known as the Ghost Orchid."

"First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854."

Thornhill looks surprised at Wednesday's knowledge. "Very good, Wednesday!"

Thornhill turns her gaze to Bianca. "You may have competition for first chair, Bianca."

I find myself smirking at the annoyance building up on Bianca's face. Shifting my weight onto my elbows on the table to get a better view.

"Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the Ghost Orchid's greatest qualities."

Bianca shifts her expression from annoyance to confidence. Moving her gaze to Wednesday with the same confidence.

"Resilience and adaptability." Wednesday remains unmoved, her posture as perfect as ever.

"It's able to thrive in even the most hostile environments."

"But it's mere presence can change the ecosystem, causing the established plants to reject it." Bianca butts in, trying to one up Wednesday.

"Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive unchecked. Nothing a weedwacker couldn't fix."

"You can most certainly try."

I can feel the tension between the two, meeting Xavier's eyes for a moment.

"Are we still talking about flowers?" Xavier adds, causing the class to release a light laugh. Alleviating a bit of the tension.

"Thank you ladies, for those, illuminating insights." Ms. Thornhill brings the attention back to her.

"Clearly the plants aren't the only carnivores in class today."

I look between Wednesday and Bianca, sensing the rivalry building between the two.

-

You're with Enid helping with the boat for the Poe Cup. It's a beautiful fall day, the air slightly chilly, the leaves in the trees different shades of red, yellow, and orange.

Wednesday starts approaching from the school, heading to your teams boat. Specifically to Enid.

"I have to get back to the woods, but Weems has been watching me like a vulture circling a carcass."

"And you want me to cover so you can go back to the crime scene that didn't happen?" Enid asks teasingly.

"Crime scene?" You break your focus from painting the boat. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh you don't know? Wednesday has been saying how Rowan was killed by a monster while he now walks around the school. Y'know, very much alive."

Wednesday scowls Enid with her eyes.

"What if she is telling the truth?" Something glistens in Wednesday's eyes when she looks at you.

"We go to a school with vampires and werewolves, but this isn't possible? Plus, I don't think Wednesday is the type of person to lie for attention."

Enid shrugs while she continues painting. "Why don't you ask Y/n to be the distraction?"

Wednesday looks back to Enid. "That's because she will be coming with me to investigate."

I turn my head to Wednesday with a slightly confused expression. Am I? I wasn't aware of this.

Wednesday sees my confusion, I can see her asking through her eyes. I take a deep breath.

I can't say no to her.

Enid looks back to Wednesday, taking her eyes off the boat. "Okay then, why don't you ask Thing? Oh wait you can't because he's mad at you."

"Why's he mad? he's the one who screwed up."

Enid goes back to focusing on painting while shrugging. "All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis, and he really opened up. He feels he doesn't respect you as a person."

"Technically he's only a hand."

"Wednesday, he's your family! And he would do anything for you. Go apologize and I'll reconsider helping you."

Wednesday looks around for a moment before meeting your eyes, gazing into them for a moment before she walks away.

Part 4.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: happy holidays :))

[oddly-casual]

Gaap Goemon appreciation post/ Character Analysis

because I need y'all to hype him up as much as I do.

I was a fan of the Mairimashita Iruma Kun anime many moons ago, and just recently I got back into it. Finished the manga. Walked away loving the entire Misfit class. Most of all, I see a criminal lack of Gaap content. So, here's why I love Gaap and why I think you should too.

By all accounts, there isnt a whole lot of focus or information about Gaap that goes beyond the depth of a kiddy pool. (It's like that for most of the misfits tbh...) Still, Gaap gets more focus than most.

Kindness and care:

The thing about Gaap that stands out the most, is how much of a natural caretaker this kid is.

He greets everyone he meets with respect. Often using the honorific "Dono" Which google tells me translates to "Lord" or "Master". Almost every time he greets somebody he always has an offer of Hell tea and onigiri. He always makes sure to take care of his guests and his friends. This kid has no shortage of manners. So polite.

In the Harvest Festival arc, Gaap is the one who goes out to save the other students even when Agares has valid points about why rescuing a bunch of demons they dont know wouldn't benefit them in any way. In the festival, where the entire point is to be a cut above the rest, what did Gaap do?

We see little examples of Gaap's kindness. How he defends his friends and is usually on the front lines whenever someone's well-being is cause for concern.

This boy is the mom friend who always had a painkiller and a stack of bandaids on hand. He's such a mom friend that he canonically fights with Jazz when it comes to taking care of their classmates. (They both have a caretaker complex.)

It's also the way Gaap responds to stress! In the Heartbreaker arc, Gaap is paired up with two first-years who won't stop fighting. This obviously stresses the boy out, because he had high expectations of getting along with his first years, but it didn't turn out that way.

The first thing Gaap does is try to offer them food, something we see Gap do to Agares when he snaps at him. When the offer of food doesnt work, he instead tries to assure the first years that everything will be fine. Even if Gaap isn't confident, his first instinct is to try to appeal to and take care of people. Even if that's not what they want.

It’s interesting, because Gaap doesn’t physically get in between them, like you would expect him to do. He avoids conflict when it gets physical, despite being such a capable fighter. (Though when it comes to saving others, he has no problem acting.)

Friends and Habits:

We get to know Gaap the most when he's around other people. Obviously, because he's a secondary character. I think another aspect of this is because Gaap is a social creature, he thrives around people. We rarely see Gaap standing alone and this makes sense because his goal is to have 100 allies.

In the demon world, we know that demons usually dont care about saving or helping others if it doesnt help them. Nor do they have the drive to see their efforts to the end, because they get bored rather quickly. Gaap breaks out of this status quo, along with the rest of the Misfits, by stubbornly pushing towards his goal even when the fruits of his labor dont bloom right away.

The biggest showcase of this drive is the person Gaap takes care of the most, that we know of.

Chapter 111 shows us that Gaap came to Agares' house every day. check it, every day. Gaap would go out of his way with breakfast and pick Agares up so he could make it to class.

Agares clearly doesnt want to go, but Gaap takes him anyway, refusing to leave him behind. From what we can guess, he's been doing it before they started training together. Which could mean Gaap didn't know this kid, but saw he wasn't going to class and went to go take care of him. (Classic extrovert adopting their introvert friend).

We see how that kindness affects Agares as a result. Agares feels guilty when he snaps at Gaap and goes out of his way to visit Gaap when he doesn't show up for class. (This could also mean Agares went to class on his own, without Gaap having to force him.)

Agares was also willing to help the people Gaap saved. Even when telling Gaap not to go out and save those people, Agares still houses them, keeps them safe, and even plans an escape route for the other students when things look bad. It's a lot of hassle for a character who hates being bothered. Gaap's kindness is contagious, even if it's not obvious at first glance.

Oh, Maybe He's Kinda Fucked Up?

No one escapes childhood unscathed.

Gaap is a caretaker, he does it happily. Even so, when you put yourself in the position to take care of others, there are parts of yourself that fall into neglect that you dont realize.

After the Heartbreaker arc (Chapter 272), Gaap is noticeably absent. We find out later, what happens when you fuck with the nice guy too much.

Maybe it was his crushed expectations, the stress of failing and losing, or maybe Gaap was just tired of being nice but he goes apeshit. Accidentally slipping into his Wicked cycle and nearly driving two students mad with his fucked up face.

We learn that showing your true face is a big no-no in the Gaap household. It's literally written on the walls, and Gaap feels immense shame and embarrassment that he broke a family rule.

He hides his face in his hands, and puts a bag over his face when Agares comes over. He's afraid of hurting someone again, even though the stress of those events have passed.

We dont know his parents' reaction, (because aint no way they dont know) Whether Gaap was disciplined by his parents or not, Gaap put this huge weight on his shoulders. Not blaming the stress of the situation, but blaming himself for losing control.

Gaap specifically said, “I panicked”. Which could mean that with all the stressors, he snapped and just lashed out. Gaap didn't willingly enter his wicked phase, I think he just gave in to his instincts. His bloodline originally started by warding off predators with their maddening appearance. What is panic if not your brain responding as if your body is in danger?

Despite Gaap reasonably getting upset, he still feels terrible for the trouble he caused and the students he hurt. The first thing he did after waking up was to ask if he could apologize to the first years for mentally scarring them.

Gaap’s ambition is to make 100 allies. It's pretty sweet. When a teenager says it(Gaap looks 17 yrs old), It just sounds like he wants to have friends. Pair this up with the fact that Gaap rarely asks for anything in return, and suddenly his wanting a ton of friends makes sense for someone who looks his age. Gaap takes care of people because he wants them to like him. (Even if he can drive them away with how much he cares.)

I have no idea where this desire comes from. If it's something his family drills into him, to be sociable and network, or if it's just a personal goal because of his ugly ahh face.

Regardless, this moment makes me want to lie down on the road while it rains:

Despite how much his ambition means to him, he is willing to isolate himself as long as it means no one else gets hurt. This speaks to his good intentions. It isn't just about the popularity or all the favors he could have from knowing so many demons. It's about forming genuine relationships with other demons and providing them a soft place to land and build community.

Look at my son, he tries so hard.

My final point:

Look at how cool he is. This is Chapter 76, my boy came out the gate swinging with powerful bloodline magic. He's got the position, he's got technique, he's got flare. What more could you ask for?

Gaap started out as rank 2, and since then has had no problem leveling himself up. Gaap always stays on his feet (Hence his nickname Busy Body), not letting himself fall behind his classmates. He aced his training and had since learned to use Wind as a companion and not as a tool. He even developed a full-range attack where he can pick which targets get hit by his swing and which dont. He is leveling up in the world. Dont hurt em now Gaap.

Conclusion:

I'm the equivalent of those parents who show off pictures of their kids from their wallet.

Gaap as a character, in the story he's in, isn't anything really new or groundbreaking. Even still, in a story like Mairimashita Iruma-Kun, the Misfit class are demons that are different. We get to learn why they're different, and how they learn to overcome these challenges despite how they threaten to hold them back.

Gaap is a good kid that you watch succeed from the background. We see him struggle and fall apart, but he never stops caring about others in that process. He's that good-natured kid in your life that you hope succeeds because in a cruel world, they make the decision to be kind.

If anyone made it this far, slay. Even if you never noticed Gaap before, I hope you have a new appreciation for his character. Nishi took time and love to write him out, I think that deserves attention too.

[todayontumblr]

Monday, May 29.

June is a month and it's coming.

What a time to be alive. It’s nearly June. And we want you, distinguished reader, to enter the best month of the year with all the little tidbits of June trivia you might possibly need:

June has the longest daylight hours of the year (in the Northern Hemisphere—in the Southern Hemisphere, it’s the shortest day of the year. Idk. Planets, man).

June is one of only two months to have three (!) birthstones (greedy). They are Moonstone, Alexandrite, and pearl—which is not technically a stone at all, but here we are.

If you’re born in June, roses and honeysuckle are associated with your birth. Get a whiff of that.

For many indigenous folks, including Creek, Cherokee, Seminole, Yuchi, and Iroquois folks, June's strawberry moon brings about harvest and thanksgiving, as well as Green Corn Festivals (weather permitting).

The Anglo-Saxon word for June was Ærra-Liða, which is like, “first calm.” Mmh (✿◡‿◡)

The Romans believed it was a bad omen to marry in June. In English, this month is named after the goddess Juno, who is the Roman equivalent to Hera, mother of the gods.

June starts on a different weekday than any other month in the year? Why? Maths.

So. Time is fake. We’re whooshing ahead. We’re celebrating June early. Come get comfy, check out these baby animals and cool flowers. Also this month: check out your local queer artists, have some fun with some polls, tickle some frogs, and try to escape the grim out there. Stay safe and be kind, Tumblr <3 

[trashogram]

I'm so happy you liked my revision of Striker!!! I'm pretty excited to share my thoughts with you and your followers! ^^

As promised, here is;

Re-Writing Moxxie, Millie, and The Harvest Moon Festival

Moxxie

I don't have that big of an issue with Moxxie's characterization actually. Knowing myself, I would have thought him up the same, if not similarly, as Viv did to contrast Blitzø's wild nature, and Millie would have been the bridge between them (explained in her section).

Moxxie being the 'har har he's such a loser' jokes got old real fast imo. And from what I can tell, the writers actually want him to be the weak link of the chain rather than there being a reason why he keeps screwing up. Blitzø said he saw so much potential in Moxxie, so what's going on there?

We all know his bloody mafia past- which i am planning on keeping (because I'm a whore for mob daddy 😶‍🌫️), so the way I would have written this; it's not that Moxxie is incapable of being the leader or taking care of a hit. Being the so i already told you this, but I would have made it so that Moxxie is actually very capable, and he's got his own bloodlust like Millie (I mean, this is Hell? Who isn't at least a little murderous?). But now that he's escaped his childhood home and abuser, he's so desperate to start anew and to be nothing like Crimson, that he winds up shooting himself in the foot.

When he sets that aside, though, he can be a death machine just as well as Blitzø and Millie. Whenever Millie is in danger and needs help, like in Murder Family and C.H.E.R.U.B., Moxxie is on it. I would have also written in moments in the show where he saves Blitzø as well. Yeah, they may bicker, but that's still the same imp who got him out of his situation, gave him a life worth living, and he met the love of his life through Blitzø. Blitzø is probably his best friend, or at least the closest to one he has outside of Millie.

Also- I would have written Millie and Moxxie as dating in the show, and they get married sometime later... Yes, it is partially for the excuse of animating their wedding 😆 but also, it just feels more right for us to be able to see M&M's relationship grow rather than just get introduced to them as a married couple.

Especially since I think i would have made Moxxie's fretting over Millie doubled. Not just because he's a fretter, but also because he's scared of hurting her or driving her away because of his past. Watching his parents' relationship deteriorate the way it did didn't help him at all with his confidence in love. So at first, he kinda treats Millie so delicately; he tries his hardest to be the perfect gentleman and then some, and he's always worried and protective of her. This is one of the things that Millie and Moxxie would grow as a couple in the series, with Moxxie relaxing around her and realizing that he's put up a front of who he is rather than show his true self. Once Millie gets that through to him, that's when they truly become an unstoppable team and power couple.

Also I think i would have given Moxxie glasses? I've seen a lot of fan redesigns and a couple of them include Moxxie with glasses (i think it correlates to his Greed heritage? Like maybe his glasses resemble that of a bookkeeper? I'm not so sure). And I really like them ☺️ it not just differentiates him from Crimson in physical appearances, but also it just fits him. Maybe the glasses can symbolize Moxxie's character ark through the show (when he tried to hide his true self, he kept his glasses off so he wasn't showing a sign of weakness- something Crimson would have grilled into him. But as he grows more comfortable with his found family, he wears the glasses more and more, showing his true colors).

That and- for you and your OC- If Moxxie had glasses, maybe that's how Hail gets hers? He can tell immediately she needs them, and he 'knows a guy' who can get her her prescription! But he asks her to not tell Blitzø, Millie, or Loona that he himself has a prescription since this would have been before his ark? What do you think?

Millie

I also don't have that big a problem with Millie's character, but seeing your posts about the obvious favoritism made me realize how she's treated like a background character. I'd definitely change that in my revision of this story. Millie and Moxxie are a team, and that needs to be seen in the show, but also that Millie has her own life and character outside of her boyfriend and job.

Now, Millie being the bridge between the boys. She's an absolute unit and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty like Blitzø, but she's got some softer tastes like Moxxie. We got the implication that Millie doesn't actually like musicals in Mission Weeabooboo - I personally just saw it as her not liking that 'depressing french horseshit' musical in particular rather than her not liking them in general. I see her being into musicals like Heather's or Little Shop of Horrors while Moxxie prefers the classical ones like Cats or Phantom of the Opera.

I'd want to make a short that shows M&M spending the day together, and at some point, they're having a lighthearted debate over which musical is better. Later, they both happily kill someone together as a loving assasin couple, which would show that Moxxie has in common with Millie with bloodshed. Basically a day that shows what drew them to each other and what they have in common but also celebrates their differences that make them their own people outside of each other.

But outside, Millie would get more screening on missions (idk about you guys, but that was BS imo how Martha's husband was so easily able to knock her out with a bottle without gaining a scratch). Not just fighting, but also how smart she is. She was an assasin before Blitzø formed the team, and was born and raised on a farm in Wrath. She has to know many skills. Maybe she and Blitzø trained Moxxie and Loona? (Moxxie blushing Millie when she managed to pin him down while teaching him how to be an assasin? 😏).

Also, what happened between her and Cha- nothing, because I'm erasing Chaz's existence from my re-write. There's no reason for him to exist other than to die in Exes and Ooh's. Moxxie and Millie aren't going to have a shared ex in this re-write.

Millie will still have her happy history, and they may still disapprove of Moxxie in my re-write. However, since they are just dating, it's still them getting to know her boyfriend. And I promise, there would be an on-screen acceptance of Moxxie in my re-write. And Millie would have actively stood up for him, rather than just promise him that they'll accept him 'eventually' like she did in the show. (I love my girl, but that was too passive imo. Even if that's her family, they tell still disrespectful to him and their marriage. But I digress-)

But even with her happy history, Millie would pick up on how Moxxie doesn't really talk about his past. I can see her trying to ask once, maybe set up a meet-the-parents date when they've reached a certain point in their relationship. But Moxxie shutting that down politely would have told Millie that it's best not to push it. She's not dumb. She knows that she lucked out with living parents and siblings in Hell. It makes her seeth wondering who could have out such a sweet guy like Moxxie through so much that he can't even bring them up, but she'll respect his wishes. During the Crimson episode, Millie wouldn't have asked "Why haven't I met your pa before?" But instead, "I'll grab Blitzø and we can leave, honey." Before Moxxie, scared for what Crimson might do, tells her it's fine and they enter the house. But Millie right away is off-put by Crimson and all the sharks. (Especially after Crimson kissed her hand and called her a 'pretty thing' in front of her and in the privacy of the dining room. Am I the only one who's wondering why that wasn't acknowledged? I might just be overthinming it though.)

In general, other than giving Millie more time to shine and accentuating hers and Moxxie's shared and separate interests, I think I would have made her the same? Hopefully, I'm not overlooking anything 😅

Oh! And she and Striker know about each other :) they're two of the only imp assasins in Hell, and they grew up in the same ring. They weren't childhood friends or anything, and Millie doesn't know that Striker himself is that mysterious imp assasin thats put a strain on the royals, but they did hear about each others' reputations and are impressed. Millie hopes that they'll one day meet and maybe he can join the team.

The Harvest Moon Festival

The episode is one of the best to me... Yes, a big reason is because our beloved Striker is in it 😆 however, seeing your post about how in both Millie's house and Moxxie's house the focus was on him, it got me thinking about how I would change that.

Striker manages to charm everyone. He even impresses Moxxie in my re-write. That gets flipped on its head, though, when he insults Moxxie in front of Joe and Lin and they just shrug in agreement. He finds himself on Millie's shit list real fast, Moxxie worries himself with gaining Joe and Lin's approval, and it becomes a tense few days as they stay for the Harvest Moon Festival (i would have tried to extend it to a week at most. It seems like the kind of celebration that would be longer than just a day).

At night, though, Millie hears rustling and goes to investigate. Moxxie has been trying to impress her folks this whole time, so he's a bit distracted and exhausted. Millie goes to investigate her childhood home, and she sees signs of Striker being not what he seems. One night, she even catches him awake, and they have an intense stare down. Millie threatens him for ruining what was supposed to be a vacation for Moxxie and making him look bad in front of her folks, "I could kill 'ya right here, and no one would give a shit." And he just returns it with a smirk, "I'd like 'ta see 'ya try, little lady." Before Moxxie or Blitzø interrupts them and everyone has to go back to bed.

So it's Millie that grows suspicious of Striker first and has a vendetta against him. It's not just Moxxie, though; her parents tell her about him- or rather what little they know about him and that pesky habit of his to disappear, and she just knows that something isn't right. It's Millie that investigates and finds the rifle. It's Millie that gets in a tussle with Striker, nearly gets herself killed despite her skill, and Moxxie is the one that rushes to her aide- surprising Striker that this weakling got the better of him- before he gains the upper hand again.

And at the end, when Striker escapes and Lin and Joe find their daughter and Moxxie, they see that she probably would have been dead if it weren't for Moxxie. Granted, they're both in terrible condition, but who knows if they'd still have Millie of Moxxie wasn't there? They finally accept Moxxie, and vow that if Striker ever shows his face again, they'll give him Hell. In Wrath, if you go after someone, you better be prepared to face the rest of their family.

Oh dear, this took WAY longer than I wanted to type out 😅 i hope it's ok? I know i missed some things most likely, and it's not the best re-write. But I hope you like it!

Up next is Blitzø and Loona. And after them, Barbie and Fizz 😊

😩

We are blessed! With more rewrite thoughts!!! Gather round, Fam!

I’m lovin all your rewrites — especially how you weave them together like an actual writer would. Story elements like character, relationships and plot aren’t all isolated from each other like weird SCP creatures but connect to and affect each other as they should.

My fav things:

- Moxxie is competent and not a Butt Monkey

- He has an arc that is followed through and not constantly thrown out then reeled back in like the most frustrating worm on a hook

- Moxxie with glasses is a super cute image (and yes I would adore Hailoxxie where both cuties are glasses-wearers ☺️)

- CHARACTER FOR MILLIE and the fact that the gd Harvest Moon Festival ep revolves around her doing detective work

- Millie and Moxxie developing a relationship based on likes/dislikes, communication, depending on each other, creating memories, etc. Ya know, the way ppl develop relationships in real life

- I agree Millie and Moxxie should’ve been dating then progressed to marriage bc them being a newly married couple literally does nothing for the pair in canon

- Millie defending Moxxie from her parents and Striker

- Chaz hath been deleted 🙏 Praise the lord

It’s literally like you took the asinine and aimless ramblings of canon and created something worth watching! 1000/10 stars for you ⭐️❤️

[carionto]

But it tastes too good

One diplomatic meeting with the Human ambassador coincided with a certain holiday native to her geographical origin back on Earth. A harvest festival to be exact, so she insisted her embassy would provide a feast for all who gathered here, after the meeting.

Several hours later we arrive at a venue in the communal area the Humans had requested for this occasion. The localized atmosphere was set to dusk lighting and light fog, there were numerous tall standings holographic torches providing a surprisingly comfortable and warm ambience, and despite the size of the venue and the near fifty people present, somehow it felt very close-knit.

After a short speech explaining the customs and brief history of the holiday, they brought out the food, and it was surprising how thoroughly they had prepared. Each species was served not only foods they can consume, they were specific delicacies native to each of their homeworld regions, down to the current seasonal produce, if the planet had seasons that is.

However, no table was more diverse than the Human one. It is always staggering to be reminded how many different kinds of items omnivores can eat, but even still, the sheer number of different ingredients in some of these was incredible. Soups and salads were the most complex composition-wise, but even their simplest dishes - five wildly different animal meats - were infused with spices, some had been marinaded beforehand, and one was seared with a coating of honey and berries.

We were all enjoying our meals and conversations, when one Human staffer started coughing violently. He had been the most... ravenous consumer of the meat and accompanying dressings, but before panic set in we were informed that this is merely a reflex Humans sometimes have when overeating.

A short while later he started breathing heavily and was clenching his chest and almost collapsed to the floor. An on-site medic quickly examined and gave him an injection before escorting him back to the Human embassy.

While we were incredibly worried about what had happened and why, the other Humans seemed mostly undisturbed. As they explained, we grew ever more concerned about Humanity as a whole and their tendency to disregard their own safety and well-being:

"Yeah, Hank really can't help himself. His doctor tells him repeatedly to watch his cholesterol levels, but, and I quote him: "I'll die before I give up cheese steaks and ranch!"

So this happens from time to time, he chooses to live with chest pain, breathing problems, palpitations, and the medication to limit those, as opposed to cut just down on all those nasty salts and fatty acids.

Can't say I don't understand him though. I think every person has some food that's probably not good for them that they wouldn't give up unless their life depended on it, or in Hank's case, in spite of the risk. It would be a depressing existence if I couldn't get my daily packet of sour gummy worms anymore, that's for sure."

[afrognamedfizzarolli]

Helluva Boss observations and easter eggs you may not have noticed!: Pilot

The pilot is both a great place and weird place to start, as it is our introduction to the cast and world, but also no longer considered canon. Many of the events and details we learn/see are later confirmed in the series itself, but there were quite a few changes.

I want to start off with some design changes!

With Millie, she used to have white roots visible, this actually kept up for a few of the early episodes. As we know now it seems imps have two noticeable instances of sexual dimorphism: females have black horns with thin white stripes and naturally black hair, and males have evenly sized black and white stripes on their horns and naturally black hair. We see many trans or otherly gender queer imps that dye their hair with visible roots. I assume Millie's design was changed when that was established to be a gender difference in imps.

Her heart tattoo is also much smaller, and switches sides (an animation error almost certainly) When the pilot first came out I actually thought she had a heart on both shoulders.

Some stuff with Stolas!

We see his hand outlined with a red glow at one point, presumably representing his magic. While in the series his magic is represented by blue. This is most likely due to the change of his character as he was originally planned to be a villain.

Not a design change, but I find it funny that Stolas' name in Blitzø's phone is "Creepy Mouth (aka one night stand bird dick)". Surprisingly all being spelled correctly.

Stolas' Grimore! I actually only noticed this on this last watch. It was a darker blue(purple? red? It changes in different scenes) and instead of the moon design it has a different insignia of his that we still see throughout the series in various places (notably on his bed) it also has no design on the back.

Little details!

I didn't realize before either that the woman who Moxxie is trying to shoot before Eddie gets in the way, is Eddie's mom. I'm sure this is something many others picked up on immediately though.

Speaking of which, the human news anchor shown at the end bares a striking resemblance to a character of Brandons: a news anchor named Flint Dicker.

A poster of "THE AMAZING IMP SIBLINGS" is on the wall of the conference room. Showing Blitzø, Barbie Wire, and another character labeled "Tilla". This was changed in the series to just being Blitzø and Barbie, Tilla's design being slightly altered and then used for their mom.

Hazbin easter eggs! Oh boy is there a lot of them.

In the commercial sequence we see in the room of one of the targets a framed drawing of Sir Pentious

In the background of when Blitzø is interviewing a previous client, there is a billboard for 666 News ft. A photo of Katie Killjoy, I especially love this one as Brandon ended up voicing her!

In Blitzø's office he had a vision board labeled "BOSS GOALS" with 5 drawings, in the center is Blitzø labeled "ME!" Top left we have Katie again, top right is a duck with a top hat and two $'s, this assumably referencing Lucifer, bottom left is Rosie, an arrow pointing to her hat labeled so eloquently "HAT" and lastly in the bottom right there is a more detailed drawing that looks to be Carmilla Carmine labeled "Moxxie drew not as good" this tracking later as in 1.05 "The Harvest Moon Festival" Moxxie talks about Carmine angelic weaponry, showing a great interest in her business.

Next is a dumpster in an alley with various graffiti. Notably, a face that looks to be Nifty, "ALWAYS CHASING RAINBOWS" and "HAPPY HOTEL". There is also a sinister face labeled "DEVIL". Im not sure if this is a specific refrence to anything though.

Lastly, one that I'm sure almost everyone noticed but feel the need to include, is we can see Loona watching Charlie's performance of "Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow"

Funny observations:

When the crew teleports into the church, we see maany people with some pretty detailed designs, I do not know if or what they may be referencing, but I have a strong suspicion it is something, my guess is that they are caricatures of some people who worked on the pilot. One person in specifically is wearing a jacket with a patch reading "WHEN YOU SEE IT" with a 👌

Signs! In the hospital we see a sign saying "WE SAVE LIVES" in faded text it reads between we and save "try to" and after lives another line is visible starting with "but" I cannot make out the rest.

Others show that they are in ward 13, the next room over labeled as 667, implying the room that Eddie was in is 666

A note is taped to the side of the fridge of the break room reading "LOONA DONT EAT MY LUNCH -MOXXIE"

Another thing I only noticed recently is when Blitzø sneaks out at the Goetia palace, he is naked except for his jacket, with the grimore serving as some creative censorship. (+Stella's beta design. I personally love her current design, but this one wasn't bad)

When Blitzø makes the comment about making Moxxie the employee of the month he holds up a small plaque as an example, a larger version of this same plaque, is visible on a wall in the commercial sequence.

While in their hazmat suits(idk if that's what these actually are), you can see the shape of Moxxie's bowtie under it

... and just Blitzø holding some targets panties, cause why not

There are a handful of other details, but I'm going to hold onto those as later on we see call backs to them. Also, I've spent a lot more on this than Id planned already, I have at least 3 hours on this one alone.

Please bare with me, I promise these will get more interesting the further we go in the series!

[tealvenetianmask]

can you picture western energy striker defiantly hissing "vermin" in the face of sure death? can you imagine the harvest moon one getting offended at the dick statue he himself built being made fun of? or letting sex jokes get under his skin after he p much spent the pain games seducing blitz?

Sweet anon, you responded seriously to a shitpost.

*Ahem*

Honey, you can take a joke about as well as Striker can.

*cough cough hacking fit*

Gumdrop-----

*sigh*

Okay, none of that is fair. I'd better respond to your actual argument. In most shitposts, there's a grain of OP's actual opinion. This one is no different. My opinion is this: I think Striker's character development in Season 2 is good actually. I'll explain why, and I hope I'll get around to all of your ideas along the way.

Point 1: I concede- Striker did come across as COOLER in The Harvest Moon Festival, but I think that "cool" was skin deep. He had a confident attitude and cool weapons. He could fight and kill a wild hellbeast and tied with Blitz in the tough guy contest. He had the voice of Norman Reedus for fuck's sake. The screenshot I used in the shitpost was a smear, which is a technique for animating fast motion, and Striker doesn't look dorky unless you pause it at exactly the right split second- it was a joke. Now, did that present potential for him to be a villain who was super slick and formidable all the time? Sure.

But was it representative of anything more about his character than the attitude he projected and his fighting skills? No, I don't think so-- we knew next to nothing about him. And cracks in his exterior were already visible in some core contradictions, which brings me to . . .

Point 2: He was overtly presented as a racist, self-hating hypocrite who was not as tough as he pretended to be ALREADY in The Harvest Moon Festival. I'm not exaggerating. I went into way more depth about this here, but here's the gist. He presented himself as sort of an imp rights activist (royals treat them like playthings, etc.) but also said that he and Blitz are superior to other imps and yes, like you mentioned in your ask, called Moxxie, a smaller imp with more typical imp traits "vermin" and demeaned him throughout the episode. He also genuinely had his ass handed to him by Blitz when they actually directly fought hand to hand, so there's that . . . AND he calls what Blitz does beneath him but literally works for royals himself. The fantasy he tried to sell to Blitz IS a fantasy that Striker IS NOT LIVING.

Point 3: The character development he gets in Season 2 is consistent with what we see in Season 1. Why wouldn't a character who represents toxic masculinity in Moxxie's character arc have a giant statue of himself with a pointy dong? A character who's delusional enough to see himself as a free agent "slaying overlords" when he's really working as a paid assassin? Who describes himself as "superior to most of his kind?" Why would you expect that character to react well to losing? Because he acted angry and called Moxxie vermin rather than begging for mercy (which he never does later)? Please. He continues to act angry when he's losing in Season 2- he just gets more unhinged about it as he loses more and more. And then he runs the fuck away. At the end of every single episode in which he appears. Because his bravery has a fucking limit.

Point 4: And that development is actually more interesting (and potentially scary in the future) than a villain who's just cool and unshakeable. We learn more about his fixations and insecurities. That when other characters flirt to disarm him (different from when he's the one seducing/manipulating), he gets flustered and messes up. We learn that he's insecure enough to need the validation of success, and when his losses pile up, he starts to break.

For him, breaking shows up as murderous rage rather than sadness because he can't stand to be weak. He's willing to kill Fizz and incur the wrath of Asmodeus just to satisfy that rage, just to sate his murderous hatred for someone who committed the crime of being an imp in a relationship above his station. This suggests that going forward, he'll be capable of unspeakable cruelty, motivated by hate, free from the constraints of morality and common sense. He will become increasingly dangerous and increasingly tragic. The audience wants to know his backstory (because how could someone get like this without profound pain?) and wants to see what he'll do next.

In short, Striker is an awesome character, but not in the ways that his defenders think he "should have been" based on his first appearance.

[see-arcane]

Blood of My Blood: Longest Night

I imagine it's tricky for a family that's 3/4 vampires to celebrate the regular batch of holidays. But a kid deserves to be festive now and then and there is a handy time of year for nocturnal sorts to celebrate.

December 21st, the winter solstice, the Longest Night.

You can read under the cut or on Ao3 here.

There were three holidays in the castle.

One was St. George’s Day Eve, which neatly held hands with the boy’s birthnight. Father was always called away for the hunting of blue flames, but after the celebration of the night with Papa and Mum, Father would be waiting for him by his coffin at sunrise. He would have a coin harvested early from the earth and some gift of his own to give. It was good.

Another was New Year’s Eve. To the boy’s knowledge, this was considered the birthnight of Time itself. He would get to unwrap a fresh calendar to hang and do something called a ‘toast,’ though there was no hot crisp bread involved. Papa would down a glass of something that burned the boy’s nose to smell, then Father, Mum and the boy would take a single quick sip and welcome the New Year. Papa’s blood always tasted different after those drinks, a little singed, but somehow nice and swimmy on the tongue. It was good.  

But the best was Longest Night.

Longest Night was preceded by the crucial private magic of Shortest Day. No one was allowed to be up and awake during the Shortest Day, or else the joys of Longest Night would not happen. The Visitors that came by daylight were swift and skittish and would not stop to deliver their bounty if anyone was up to spy on their work. They might skip by regardless if they were not left the token of food before all were in bed by sunrise.

“What do they eat?”

“Whatever a home has to spare for a plate,” Papa told him. “Sweet things, usually.”

“Like the pep mints?”

“Peppermint, yes. Biscuits, cake, chocolate.”

This had worried the boy at first. Papa tasted sweeter in December from all the Longest Night things he and Mum put together in the kitchen. Once, Papa had been doing something with pieces of fruit, cloves, and spices, the result pouring perfume out of the bowl and through the air. And, perhaps not quite by accident, Papa allowed one of the hard little cloves to cut his thumb.

“Oh dear. Could you help me, Sweetheart?” Under his breath, smiling, “Quick!”

The boy rushed to put his mouth to the cut. Papa’s blood hit his tongue in a new way. He thought of the red-white candy that had shown up after Papa’s last errand—

“You had pep mint!”

“Peppermint. Yes, I did. Is it any good?”

“Have to check.” Another sip. Another. “Checked. Very good.”

“Good.”

Good, but sweet. What if..?

The Visitors will not come for Papa, Dearest.

Mum’s hand on his shoulder, her smile on her face and in her son’s mind.

He is for us alone. Besides, he would not fit on a plate. On that note…

The boy watched his mother’s gaze float to Papa, something of either mercy or conspiracy in her look.

…it need not be desserts alone. It is cold out for those who are not like us, and the Visitors would surely appreciate something with more heat in it. Supposing Papa is willing to part with some of his paprika.

“Absolutely.”

Something to keep in mind for the Eve before Shortest Day. But for now, we need to hunt for the tree.

The tree was very important for the Visitors. They were wild folk who were used to taking and receiving bounty in wilderness. Unless the boy wanted the gifts from them all left piled against some random trunk in the forest, the castle needed a tree of its own. One they could shelter and dress so that there was no mistaking it as the tree to stop for. The boy was scrupulous in seeking this particular quarry. It could not be too tall or too short, too spindly or too thick. There must be no animals living in it, not even the bats; though he knew already from Father that they had all taken off to their caves for the winter. It must be just right.

Eventually they came upon it, powdered in snow and sweet-stinging with its aroma.

This one?

“This one!”

Mum cleaved the trunk from its roots, hoisting it as airily as she might have carried the boy. They returned to the castle and set it within the stand that Papa had built for it. Then came the decoration. Threads of nutshells and dry berries hardened to beads were wound around the boughs, ready to turn to kindling once it came time to break the tree up into firewood. Give or take a few wooden ornaments the boy painted himself. He was still hanging them when Father appeared. Standing and staring and silent as the boy worked.

Father had allowed Longest Night to happen because of Papa. The boy knew so. Young as he was, there were some realities that one accepted without needing the Lesson laid out in words.

It was especially easy to accept as the boy had spoiled his own attempt at wheedling Father about holidays not so long ago. He had found one in a book on a high shelf in the library. The boy had clambered up to it for the sake of its pretty leather spine and flipped through it in awe of its illustrations. One in particular had arrested him. Even what little bits of the poem-story that went with it seemed somehow simpler to ingest than the rest of the dense writing about a king named Arthur and his many legendary knights. The image that held him was all holly greens and reds, with a wide-eyed young man gawking up at an emerald giant in knight’s armor, holding his own severed head as it rained blood. Beyond them, rows of knights and King Arthur himself stared over their banquet tables.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight had much the same bones as other fairy tales he was privy to, but the boy had caught on a word that had yet to show up anyplace else in his storybooks. A word that carried with it implications of revelry that was meant for adults as much as children, a thing of games and gifts and feasting and joy that nobody grew out of. A miserable fate that seemed to be the case with birthnights. The boy was alone in celebrating his, despite Father, Mum and Papa surely having birthnights of their own. It suggested to him that birthnights would go without celebration on some distant grownup year. But a holiday! Those stuck. And they were for everyone.

All this in mind, he had come to Father with the book under his arm and asked, “What’s Christmas?”

 Father declared that Christmas was two things. First, a dreamed-up fiction for the imaginary knights in the book to celebrate. Second, a topic the boy was not to mention again. Now give him the book, diavol. 

Foolishly, the boy had hugged the book to himself, citing the fact that it was in the library, and Father had said he could read whatever he liked in it, and—

“Boy,” Father had said, soft as a knife cutting snow, “you have a moment to consider whether you wish to disobey me.” Father’s eyes had flared. “There, it has passed. Now give me the book.”

The boy had given it. Father had given it to the fireplace.

Knowing he wasn’t to cry and waste blood, the boy had held his tears in. At least until he was outside, far from the courtyard and tucked up in a tree, weeping until he was the color of Papa’s hair. Mum had found him. They’d returned home only when they felt sunrise plodding toward them. The next nights had been odd. Different in the way they had been after Father had torn Hoppy to shreds.

That time before had ended with Father taking him aside for a lecture on the folly of pining for weak animals that would only break one’s heart with their frailty, capped with the gifting of a wolf crafted from downy fur and glass eyes. The boy had managed to tamp back joyous tears then, embracing his Father through an armful of plush.

The atmosphere of those preceding nights had settled thickly again. And it came, as it had before, from Papa. It was not so fiery as Father’s presence or as icy as Mum’s, but it was there. No one was more aware of it than Father. It might have been funny in a book: Father growing more and more agitated the more sedate Papa turned, until Father was left pacing and fuming while Papa went silent and almost frigid with patience. Until, finally, a week’s worth of nights passed and Papa and Mum came to the boy with talk of Longest Night. A thing left uncelebrated thus far because Father was not one for frivolity and Papa and Mum had left off holidays when they came to live in the castle.

Why?

“Your parents want for so little here, diavol,” Father had broken in, lupine smile back in its place. “It seemed unnecessary for us to bother with such rites. But you are here and young and new enough to want such things.” A clawed hand had flapped as Father dismissed them and himself. “Revel with it as you like.”

 And that had been that.

Now here was Father, scrutinizing the tree, curling his lip at the decoration.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

“Not for me. I am not the one expecting a tree wearing nothing but nuts and berries to stand out from every other in the forest. Even painted, it will hardly catch any Visitor’s eye.”

The boy sat up with a shiver, “It won’t?”

“I am afraid not. Your Papa and your mother, they hail from a choked and choking city with little in the way of nature. It is no wonder any meager flash of green caught attention there. But here, in our verdant mountains, there would need to be more applied. This?” He flicked one of the nutshell cords Mum had helped him with. “Will be as good as invisible.” He held up his hand before the boy could speak. “I have something that may be of use. Supposing you wish to bother with it.”

The boy was already adhered to his side. Off they went, up, up, up to Father’s own bedroom. There, piled in the corner…

“The coins will not hang, of course. But these?” Father hooked a dust-caked golden necklace. A ruby huge as a hen’s egg and bright as his own brooch dangled on it. The boy was already enamored with a chain of twinkling emeralds and a bracelet dewed with diamonds. “If these do not snare attention, the Visitors must be blind.” They were perfect and the boy told him so, pausing in his elation to embrace his Father’s leg tight enough to break an ordinary man’s bones. “Yes, yes. Take your bounty, magpie, and be off.” But Father lingered to watch as the boy loaded himself up with chains and cuffs enough to make him jingle all the way downstairs.

“Mum! Papa! Father had more decorations!”

They saw. Mum kept her expression even while Papa straightened with something like recognition. Yet this moment passed as the work of stringing the gold along the boughs began. The tree glittered and blazed as though it had been crafted by a giant’s jeweler. Given the chance, the boy might have sat up with the tree all day just to stare at it.

“You need to rest, Sweetheart. There’s more to do tomorrow.” Papa held out a sheet of paper and a sharpened crayon. “Remember?”

The boy squirreled himself away with the stationery, scribbling carefully in his coffin. Another important thing to remember about Longest Night was that the Visitors were not like himself or Mum or Father. They couldn’t just dip into someone’s mind and know what they wanted. If the boy did not write out what he wished for and have it sent out, the Visitors would be left to guess. Papa was entrusted with delivering his list in the post on his next errand in town. Father even let him seal the envelope with his own stamp, the wax writhing with a scarlet dragon.

With that done, now he had to consider what gifts he would bring to the tree. For the Visitors were not responsible for every present brought. Families wrapped and traded gifts among themselves too. But oh! What could he give that his parents, who wanted for nothing in the castle? Worse, how could he do what even the Visitors couldn’t, and guess the answers? He was not as smooth as Mum or Father when he peeked into a mind; even Papa caught him at it. There was simply no knowing without being found out. So…

“Mum?”

Yes?

“If…someone wanted to get you something for Longest Night, what would it be?”

 I need nothing and want little, Mum assured, her hand soft in his hair. But I suppose if I had to want something, it would be my loves, safe and happy.

That hardly narrowed it down, but the boy didn’t say so. He went to Papa.

“Papa, is there anything you want that you didn’t ask the Visitors for?”

“My family safe and happy.”

“No, I mean something that can go in a box.”

“Do you not still fit in the coffin?”

The boy huffed away, still puzzling. Surely Father would have something he wanted. Father was never satisfied. There had to be something he—

“The things I want are not delivered to me, diavol. If I want a thing, I take it. Besides,” Father’s teeth shined bright and sharp as icicles, “I have you and your mother and dear Papa. You are gifts that give every night in new and wonderful ways. As to anything I want beyond that?” A shrug. “Those will come to me in time. …Oh dear, such a look. Whatever is the matter, child?”

“I can’t wrap any of that! Mum and Papa didn’t say anything I could wrap either! Longest Night is only a few weeks away and I don’t know what to make or to find or—or anything!” He stared glumly out the frosted window as the moon stared glumly back. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t give anything.”

“Mm. So you shouldn’t. Folk such as the Visitors do take such a sour turn if they think they spy someone being selfish. Yes,” Father nodded with solemn weight, “you must have something to offer. I dread to think what would happen if the Visitors discovered you left your poor parents with nothing. Come.” Father rose and turned on his heel. The boy scrambled after him. “We shall find them something fitting.”

Again, the trip to Father’s chambers. The boy left it beaming, his new treasure hidden inside a blanket.

“But Father, this is all for Mum and Papa. What about yours?”

Father only grinned, insisting, “The Visitors know I am lord of this castle and Count of these lands. I would draw ire myself if I went bothering anyone for excess. No, diavol, that you would give these gifts from my hand and yours is fine enough.”

Time passed. Games were played. No titanic knights came around asking to have his head lopped off, thankfully. Although the boy did treat himself to one snowman he dappled all over with coniferous green before knocking its head off with a twig.

Other than that, he built up a whole snow family with Papa. Father took him flying to see the entire valley from above, mute and lovely in its winter white. Mum started a snowball battle with him that stretched for some nights off and on. It might have been shorter had Father not joined his side and made a war of things. And that too might have ended in a short victory if Father were not distracted by the boulder of a snowball that struck him from behind. Papa dashed away from his vantage point and into the trees. Father, being himself, gave snarling grinning chase. While they were off playing hunt, the boy pleaded a tired and happy truce to Mum. Towards dawn, Father tromped home with ice on his boots and Papa in his arms, drowsy and swaddled in Father’s cloak.

After that was the Eve before Shortest Day.

The boy could scarcely sit still all night. He would swear the clocks were going slower and that Father was somehow stretching the night out even further by covering up both moonrise and sunrise with extra helpings of cloud. It wasn’t until Mum and Papa sat by the fire for stories that he ceased fretting. This was Longest Night tradition as well.

“I thought grownups always did story time all quiet, reading to themselves.”

“Usually we do. But on this evening, and on through the last nights of the year, we like to tell stories to each other.”

Often frightening ones. We understand if you do not wish to listen.

But the boy was already in Mum’s lap, sharp ears up and mind alert. Mum told her stories. The boy shuddered through some and gasped over others.

Would you like to stop?

“No…” came from under the boy’s blanket.

…Would you like Papa to tell one?

“I’d be happy t—,” The boy popped his head out the blanket and twisted in his mother’s lap. Papa told his stories. They were not half so scary as Mum’s. A few even made him laugh. It was at the end of one of these that he heard the rooster outside begin to crow. The boy sat up as if pinched and went running to the nearest window. Too many clouds and a new swirling of snow and no hint of daylight yet, but the rooster always knew when the sun was coming. It was time.

“The plate! Mum, Papa, we need to set out the plate!” They set it out. A thing with biscuits and hendl and a helping of hot chocolate in a little cup. The boy pinned a note of thanks under fork for good measure. “I’m ready to sleep now.”

Dearest, the sun isn’t even up. Are you sure?

“Very sure. It’s time for everyone to sleep. Please.”

“Mm,” Papa nodded. “And you won’t be up running circles around the vault past sunrise?”

“No. I’m going right to sleep.”

Some hours and a sunrise later, the boy was up and pacing. Just to tire himself. That was all.

That doesn’t feel like sleeping.

The boy returned to his coffin. It was tricky to lay there with all the secret flotsam hidden inside with him. He managed to keep his eyes shut until roughly noon. Then he went slinking toward the stairs. Just to see if the Visitors had come. Nothing more. Nothing—

“Were you going somewhere, diavol?” This time the boy almost yelped aloud. Father almost never bothered to be awake during the day. But for Shortest Day, he had sat and lurked upon the stair. Waiting. “Were you?”

“No, Father.”

“You were just stretching your legs, perhaps?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I was stretching mine too. Now sleep.”

The boy dragged himself back to his coffin and flopped despondently into his covers. Shortest Day was a lie, he decided. It was actually the Longest Day. Perhaps even an eternal one. It would never ever end and he would be doomed to toss and turn in the coffin forever and ever and…

He woke to the tell-tale shift of day falling to dusk. It bristled in his bones. Carefully, carefully, the boy peeked from his coffin. Mum and Father were still in asleep. He gathered up his hoard of gifts and crept on half-mist feet up the stairs and away to the tree. Elation almost made him fumble the crookedly wrapped packages.

The Visitors had come and gone. Presents stood waiting under the twinkling branches. The plate and cup were empty. Scrawled on his own note in tiny block letters was a message of thanks in return from the Visitors; they looked forward to next year’s trip. The boy snatched the note up for his pocket, tucked his gifts behind the tree, and ran.

Up to the tower, dashing to Papa’s bed. How could he still be asleep!?

“Papa! Papa, Papa, Papa—,”

“Yes, yes, yes?” Papa asked into his pillow.

“They came! The Visitors came and it’s Longest Night! You have to get up, come look!”

Papa lurched upright, bloodshot but smiling.

“I’ll be down soon. I have to put my coffee on. Are we the only ones up?”

“I’ll get Mum and Father!”

And he raced away before Papa had gotten both feet on the floor. He paused only for another giddy glance at the tree, then onward again. Mum was already sitting up in her coffin, taking a moment to stretch and stand.

“Mum!”

Yes?

“It’s Longest Night!”

So it is. Did the Visitors come by?

“Yes! There’s so much and it’s so pretty and Papa is getting up but he has to do his coffee first and Mum you have to go look at the tree and is Father up yet?” He wasn’t. Mum watched the boy lunge toward the great black coffin. The boy pressed himself right up to the lid, whisper-shouting, “Father. Father, it’s Longest Night. Are you up, Father? Father, you have to get up, come see! Father, Father, Father, Father—,”

The lid opened a crack. A red eye gleamed.

“I will rise when it is time I rise. Go with your mother.”

The lid closed.

Mother and son went up. Papa was there, a steaming cup in hand.

Counting a missing head, Papa asked, “Did he want us to wait?”

“Wait for what?”

Papa and the boy jumped. Mum narrowed her eyes. Father was in the room and wearing a robe the boy had never seen before. A thing of deep arterial scarlet lined in ermine. He dragged the largest armchair up to sit and watch as the boy assailed the bounty around the tree. Toys and books and a new little fishing pole and a music box and a dozen other fun little oddments were waiting, some from the Visitors, others from his parents. The boy was so dazed by it all that he nearly forgot his own part. Nearly.

“Your turn!” the boy announced to Mum and Papa who had just taken their own seats after clearing the mess away as paper flew. The boy took his own offerings from behind the tree and placed them proudly in their laps. Father’s grin sharpened as Mum and Papa unwrapped two leatherbound journals with fine fountain pens to match. “Father helped me find them. He said you were both such good writers when you all first met, but lost your diaries when you came to live in the castle. And see!” He shuffled some of the gifts aside to dredge up his own new sketchpad. “We can all do writing and drawing together! I want to make a book, maybe.”

Mum and Papa continued to smile, but a flint of hardness passed in her eyes and a melting fatigue polished his.

You would make a wonderful author, Dearest. You could illustrate your own adventures.

The boy pretended not to notice how her claws pricked the cover as she set the journal aside. Papa put his own down gently. His hand now free, he laid it on the boy’s shoulder.

“Are you forgetting one, Sweetheart?”

“Oh!” He was. The boy ducked back around the tree and came up with the third gift; one Father did not know of. Father’s grin actually faltered as the boy rushed up with the little package in hand. A tiny box smothered in butcher paper. The boy bounced on his heels as Father opened it with agonizing slowness. The paper revealed box of weathered secondhand shop velvet. This had not come from the boy, but his Papa. The gift inside had his touch too. “Papa waded out to get them before the river iced up. They came out all clean from the water.” Father said nothing, casting a steady glance at the back of Papa’s head. Papa nursed his coffee from one hand and twined his other with Mum’s. Father switched the box from his right to his left hand and gingerly wedged it open with his thumb.

Inside, gold shined in the shape of two coins. Their already-rough images were smoothed from the river and the metal was brighter than any token Father had dug up from under his blue flames. He stared at one and the other, turning them in his fingers.

“…These are quite old,” he said at last. “My own father would know them only from memory.”

“Papa said they were special since the blue flames wouldn’t show up over anything but dry ground to tell where treasure was, so those,” the boy pointed to the coins, “would’ve been hidden forever if they stayed stuck in the riverbed. And he taught me how to do buying with them.”

“It was a bargain,” Papa hummed. “I bought such a fine piece of quartz off you with my two little coins. Practically a steal.” So saying, Papa cast a smiling glance at Mum. Mum cast her own back, turning her gift from Papa over and over in her free hand, the firelight filling its pale crystal like magic. It turned out that Papa had taken the lump of quartz into town to have a man chip it into the shape of an owl for Mum. Mum had written Papa a slim storybook all her own and it now sat tucked within Papa’s robe, flat against his heart.

“A steal you say,” Father huffed. “It might be, if my eyes do not deceive me. Or have I gone without a gift from my friend and the mother of our son?”

Your eyes deceive you, Mum intoned, her gaze still firmly nailed to the clear stone owl. The gift is from us both. In the tree.

Father and the boy looked up. A large envelope the color of ivory balanced in the branches, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“I can get it!” The boy misted his way up for it, pondering the crinkling weight inside. He turned it over to find Mum’s own elegant swirling script penned along the flap.

For Future Consideration

—J, M

Father took the envelope from him with even gentler, almost tentative care. He even sniffed it. Mum and Papa gave him only an idle glance. The boy fidgeted again.

“I can open it if you want.” He reached for the ribbon. Father swatted at his knuckles.

“Shoo, thief. Go play with your own spoils.” The boy retracted his hand and even went to sit among his presents, but his eyes stayed with Father and his gift. After some endless seconds, the red ribbon fell away, the envelope was opened, and out came…paper. A thick sheet so large that it had to be folded twice to fit within its broad container. Father frowned at this until he opened the entire thing. For once, the smile on his face seemed actually to reach his eyes.

“Father, what is it?”

“Art,” Father beamed. “Of a very particular kind. Perhaps intended to lure me away to France.”

“What?”

Father turned the paper around. It was a poster done in reds and blacks, showing a smiling woman with a narrow sword on a stage. A man had dropped flat past her feet while beyond them an audience sat and watched. There was another man dangling by a rope around his neck, looking annoyed. Above it all were the words Le Grand Guignol on a banner. It looked scary, but the style of it made the boy think of the funny comics Papa let him clip out of his newspapers. Light, almost silly, like the fearful things were there for the crowd to enjoy. The lady with the blade certainly seemed happy.

“It is for a certain theatre recently founded in Paris,” Father went on, raising an eyebrow again at Mum’s writing on the envelope. “They put on the most amusing plays, I’ve heard.” His gaze leveled first at Mum, then at Papa. “This is a fine thing to consider. Perhaps as a family outing some night.”

The boy sprang up.

“When?”

“When you are old enough, diavol.”

“But how long until that?”

“Long enough that you need not fret about it for some time, Sweetheart. Now, would you be kind enough to hand me one of the ribbons from your pile?” The boy wondered at Papa, though not deep enough to spy in his head. There was a surprise pacing somewhere behind the clear eyes. Another red ribbon was fetched. Papa took it and bound it around his wrist in a bow. It covered half of the boy’s past kisses. “Longest Night comes with feasting. I must fill myself up before I can be decanted.”

Mum and Papa took themselves to the kitchen and the boy followed at their heels. In time, Papa found himself seated at the dining table, trying to both stuff and pace himself between different portions, some heady, some sweet, some rich. He sipped a creamy drink with a funny name—the boy would whisper nog nog nog to himself off and one for the next few days in his coffin, giggling over the sound—and a little of cider and of chocolate and, when Father set down a gleaming bottle of it, something called Tokay.

Eventually Papa pulled away from the table, sighing.

“No more. I will burst.” He unwrapped the ribbon from himself and tucked down the heavy robe’s collar. “I fear I might sleep until the New Year after this.”

“You will do no such thing, my friend,” Father murmured into his neck. “We shall roll you down the stairs if need be.” He slipped his teeth into the bend between Papa’s throat and shoulder. The boy thought he did so with a lighter kiss than usual, almost nipping in the way of a wolf nibbling at his kin in play. Blood welled just the same and Father lapped it clean. Mum went next, just as gentle, nursing in a steady stream. When she pulled away it was with a bloodless kiss to Papa’s jaw.

Thank you, Darling.

Last came the boy, fitting himself carefully on Papa’s wrist. He couldn’t say whether it was the bliss of the holiday or the seasoning of Papa’s meal or some dizzying blend of both, but the kiss tasted better even than his birthnight sip after Papa had sampled the cake. The boy sucked every droplet from his teeth and gums, savoring as best he could.

“That was a really really good kiss, Papa. Is that part of Longest Night too?”

“Perhaps,” Papa said sleepily. “Or else it was the nog.” The word set the boy snickering into his hands again. The Longest Night unspooled and the boy swore again the names must be tricks. How else to explain how infinite the Shortest Day felt and how brief the Longest Night was? Too soon he felt the sunrise coming to herd everyone away to bed. Mum walked with Papa up to the tower. Before the boy could follow up and give his good days, Father halted him with a long white hand at his shoulder.

“Leave them for now, child. There is something waiting for you below.” The boy fought against the urge to race down and ahead. He stayed dutifully parallel to his Father’s long strides, hustling in his own short steps to keep pace. Down in the vault they strolled up to Father’s coffin. “I had my own trouble sleeping during the day. Such was why I was up on the stairs. I believe there is some lump in there that bothered me. Can you see it?”

Father lifted the lid. The boy saw.

Here was the last gift, another tell-tale rectangle whose solid weight spoke to a book hidden in its skin of crimson paper. The boy unwrapped it delicately at first, then in an unstoppable gleeful rush.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was in his hands again, this time only a solitary volume in its immaculate cover of gold and green foil lettering. He saw it was still made thick with artwork in a spread of fantastical painted visions.

“I shall be glad to bring you all of King Arthur’s legends should you still wish them some night in the future. Such are an old and favorite collection of myths penned in your Papa’s distant England, but many tales are not quite suited for a child. I had thought I’d made the library safe for your eyes and burned my mistake to spare you. But this?” Father tapped the cover with his claw. “This I shall be happy to read and explain, should you desire its deeper meanings. But the lesson at its very top is something clear even to one so young.” Fangs flashed and eyes burned. “The weak live by the mercy of Powers greater than themselves.” The smile softened then, almost musing. “And I suppose the illustrations are to be commended if nothing else.”

The boy nodded at all of this but found his throat too tight to form words. He peered up at his Father’s face, high as the moon above him. His eyes asked. Father nodded and opened his arms. The boy leapt up and locked his small arms as far around Father’s shoulders as they could reach. Father held him close in turn. His throat stayed strangled with heat and his eyes threatened to betray him with the ruby twinkle of tears. He fought them back.

“Thank you, Father. I love it.” His face buried in the black fall of hair, his brow rasped against the trimmed wilderness of winter’s growing beard. “I love you.”

Father was quiet for a moment. His down-spotted hand stroked the small curve of the boy’s head.

“I love you too, diavol. Happy Longest Night.”

The boy wished him the same. He gave his love and his happy wishes to Mum on the way back up, racing against dawn.

Hurry, Dearest. He was half-asleep when I left him.

The boy all but flew. Papa was in bed, eyes still open for him. If only just.

“Did you enjoy your first Longest Night?”

“It was better than anything I thought it’d be, Papa. Why haven’t we done this before?”

“You were a babe,” Papa smiled, eyelids drooping, “and your parents had forgotten celebrations for quite some time. I cannot speak for Father, but your Mum and I did not have much celebration even when we were small. Our lives were very thin as children and stayed much the same as we grew up.”

“But then you met Father,” the boy beamed. “You came to the castle where everything is and he loved you like the princes in the books do.”

“…Yes. He did. And I loved your Mum. And now we live in the castle, where everything is, love and all. And where we forgot much of holidays, for there was no point to them. Not here.” Papa’s hand settled on him, light and cool as snow. His eyes shined like wet ice. Perhaps quartz. “Not until you. We might never have remembered the 21st of December without you, son. Thank you. Come here.” The boy came, folding himself into his Papa’s arms under the covers. His ear pressed to the faint drumming of the man’s heart. “I love you, Sweetheart. So much.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Mm.”

“Happy Longest Night.”

“Happy Longest Night…”

Soon Papa was asleep. His chest lifted and dropped with his breath, the boy clinging to him and the sound. He left a bloodless kiss on his Papa’s cheek as the first rays of sun arrived, lining the mountains in gold.

Down the steps.

Into the coffin.

The boy laid his head down and began to dream of the next Longest Night.

(This goes out to @ibrithir-was-here in particular. Happy Nearly Birthday, Merry Christmas, and a gothically grim-sweet Longest Night to you, friend.)

[citrusbugz]

Rereading the manga. And I love how Clara is allowed to be weird and silly, while still being able to develop her magic and get stronger.

I am more used to western animation then anime nowadays, which is definetly where wacky concepts but serious characters thrive (like 90% of Once Piece characters), so I forgot how it feels to let silly characters be silly for this long. A lot of media keeps sending them to the edgy route if they want to develop the plot... Not awful, but they loose this chard of themselves.

It's nice that Raim worked with Clara on what she got, and not on what she didn't, during pre-harvest. That the effort went on building upon her bloodline magic and the appeal of childhood and playfulness (im not talking dirty shit, this is about the Toy Box spell, the please God don't get it twisted) instead of going on a sensual route that would be very off and forced on her character.

It's nice that other characters, and the world itself, acknowledge that she's not all dumb, she has a weird logic. And that logic is just as valid as any other, like how we see in the Heartbreak arc. She didn't fail because her logic was nonsense, because her plan worked, but because Stolas had the high ground against her. (she quite reminds me of Maddie from EAH in this way, iykwim.). You can also see that in a great display during the Music Festival arc, where there's this 1 chapter about Clara and Azz learning each other ways as to work better together, and how after that Azz is more understanding of how she thinks and, and how some of the weird things she says makes full sense in context.

I'm all here for a Clara centric plotline at anytime soon, I think is well over at this point. I want to see her have more relevance to the overall story. Or a deeper character exploration that's beyond 2 chapter length. Anyways, we love Clara in this blog.

[abrisaber]

A long post about the establishing and foreshadowing of Blitzo's character in Helluva Boss (and a Stolitz rant)

A lot of people tend to criticize character development in Helluva Boss, So I wanted to discuss the development that HB gets right, which is that of its main character, Blitzo. Firstly I want to lay out every instance of Blitzo getting some form of development or foreshadowing.

S1; EP2- Loo Loo Land.

This is only one line but it's still important to point out because 1, It shows how Blitzo thinks of Fizzarolli, and 2, It foreshadows Blitzos history with him and his (maybe) first failed relationship with someone close to him.

There's also this line where Robo asks "Does anybody love you" and Blitzo responds with "No." While this was clearly a joke, I think Blitz genuinely believes nobody loves him. He scratches his face out in photos and says "I'm going to die alone aren't I,' So he very clearly has issues with his self-worth and how he views himself. Maybe this is a punishment he inflicts on himself to remind him that he's a failure and that he doesn't deserve the people in his life

S1; EP3- Spring Broken

This one is clear as day. His relationship with Veronika is at the forefront of this episode. We don't know much about their breakup or what led to it, but it's safe to assume that it was caused by Blitz.

In Ozzies Verosika states Blitzo didn't reciprocate in their relationship, and says he's selfish both in bed and in public. In Spring Broken, she says Blitzo didn't do his job well as a bodyguard and explains how Blitzo dumped her by leaving and stealing from her.

This is the first real glimpse at how Blitzo has ruined his relationships with people. If my current timeline theory is correct, with Verosika being the last serious relationship Blitzo was in before he started sleeping with Stolas, his breakup with Verosika could've been one of the first instances in his life where he pushed someone close to him away out of fear. My theory is that Verosika was a fallback after his relationships with Fizzarolli and Barbie Wire ended on bad terms, and that's why he never truly treated her right when they were together.

S1; EP5- The Harvest Moon Festival.

This one delves more into Blitzo's views of himself rather than his relationships, but it does become important on that front too since in Truth Seekers, this is flipped to reflect how his self-worth affects his willingness to be with people.

S1; EP6- Truth Seekers is going to be a long one because of how much is said and shown during Blitzos hallucinations.

S1; EP6- Truth Seekers

Firstly, what "Moxxie," says is telling because this is Blitzo's own brain explaining his character flaws to him through someone who he constantly belittles.

Blitzo responds with "I don't need you," which obviously isn't true due to how often he fucks up and leaves things to Moxxie and Millie (Which is what fake Moxxie says)

Striker saying "But you don't want to do things alone" is his mind using striker, the person who confronted him about his self-worth, to say he doesn't want to be alone.

I don't know if this was an intentional decision but it's indirectly using a figure that shows he views himself lowly as an explanation for why he pushes people away despite not wanting to. It's basically saying "You want to become better, you don't want to be alone, but you think you're undeserving so you push everyone away from you."

Moving to fake Fizzarolli, again this section will be longer since I have a lot more to say.

Fizzarolli's design is something I theorize a lot about, mainly because the other two renditions look pretty close to their real counterparts, but Fizz is cartoonish and sort of looks like rubberhose-style animation. I think this style was chosen to represent how long it's been since Blitzo and Fizzarolli have been friends.

Another thing about his design is the heart on his forehead. I don't think it was just to make it look simpler because the design is already pretty plain. I think this is supposed to show that Fizz and Blitzo had a romantic relationship that ended poorly.

I don't know when this SS from the 2022 trailer is supposed to take place in univ. The trailer was released after "Ozzies" so it could be a shot in the present in the upcoming S2 EP6, but I don't know if Blitzo would allow this to happen after what happened at Ozzies, not unless he has (or had) a major soft spot for Fizzarollli. Fizzarolli's language in Ozzies suggests he hasn't seen him or heard from him in a while (he says "That Blitzo? So you're showing your face?")

Of course, this was just a setup to make fun of him for his keychain so It could be from after Ozzies, but this is just a clip from a trailer so It's not going to be a clear answer until we get the episode it's from.

Finally moving on to Verosika, the heart on her cheek is now broken as well, and her makeup is smeared. This design of her is showing how upset and hurt she is, and how bitter it's made her.

Lastly, moving to Stolas and the ending of the trip,

I believe these chains removing the weird goop is meant to represent how he views his relationship with Stolas. The goo represents his past problems and flaws, and Stolas is someone who can help him deal with that. But the chains are his fears and flaws negatively effecting him.

Stolitz Rant Incoming

I see people use this as a reason to say Blitzo doesn't like Stolas and doesn't want to be with him, yet no one points out how Blitzo was the one to crawl towards him, granted it was to escape from his past, but he still made the choice to go forward.

Stolitz discourse is something that always divides people. On one hand, people say Blitzo is manipulating Stolas by pretending to want to fuck him just for his book, and on the other, people say Stolas is harassing Blitz by not taking the hint. These arguments aren't too far off, but there isn't any INTENTIONAL manipulation.

Blitzo does care about Stolas. This isnt something that just happened suddenly, the show is trying to establish how he feels about Stolas, yet there's always a crowd that says "Where did this come from? Why is this the first time we're seeing this?" as if thats not how shows work.

This is the first we're seeing of Blitzos true feelings because this is the ESTABLISHING period of the show. There haven't been any more indicators because there wasn't any show before this. Sure you can make the argument that there were more opportunities to put more ground beneath this story but you cant then fault the show for trying to establish ground AT ALL. It's like not studying for a test and crying when you fail.

Blitzo is uncomfortable because he's currently in turmoil. For years he's been in a constant shit storm of pushing his loved ones away and isolating himself from them until he's left alone. And now it's coming back to bite him in the ass because he doesn't realize how badly hes hurt people. It took hallucinatory drugs and a musical number to get him to see that he's truly hurt the people he loves and that he has a trail of bitter and angry exes.

Stolas is just the one who's made him understand what intimacy means to him, and why he's afraid to have that. He WANTS to be with Stolas, but years and years of isolation have left him afraid of a new partner.

It's why he stalks M&M, its why he looks for Barbie, its why he pours so much love into Loona. He's looking for a way out of his cycle of pain.

In Stolas's defense, he's just doing what he thinks Blitzo would like. The texts in Western Energy show that Stolas is genuinely trying to make an effort to make their relationship less transactional, and Blitzo isn't reciprocating at all (something we know he's done before).

I'm closing this off now because I don't want this Stolitz rant to drag on but I will return to this with more on Stolas's behalf. This post was mainly about Blitzo and his character.

In conclusion, I think that #HelluvaBoss deserves a lot more credit than its given. Stolitz is a toxic relationship, but it's only toxic because Stolas and Blitzo have major character flaws that prevent them from having a healthy relationship. And that doen'yt make them evil people. Theres no real malice or abuse, just misunderstanding that lead to toxicity and no comunication.

[anemicjellyfish]

This scene & Blitzø's posture appreciation post:

In The Harvest Moon Festival, Blitzø gets to meet Millie's parents. He compliments them and really seems to enjoy their presence, all while maintaining his typical slouchy/casual posture.

Striker shows up, and Blitzø keeps posture the same while explaining off handedly that he's "good at [killing], so it's best to capitalize on it."

Striker continues, ignoring Blitzø's deflection of his own accomplishments, reminding him that not many imps start their own business.

And Blitzø just...

STRAIGHTENS RIGHT UP AND GETS TO FEEL SOME PRIDE IN HIS SUCCESS SO FAR

He does work hard; he is good at his job.

My boy needed that. He needed validation and genuine compliments. (If we had as much tail animation in season 1 as we do the second half of season 2, he'd be wagging his tail like a little puppy here, you cannot convince me otherwise.)

To wrap things up, enjoy Blitzø seeing a horse:

[katasstrophic-arts]

In Bloom pt. 2

Sebastian x F!Farmer

pt. 1

Content - angst comfort, fluff, pregnancy, unnamed farmer, no y/n, Mild sexual topics

1.8k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, after the sun has set you and Sebastian head to leave the Flower Dance. The both of you are promptly swarmed by people giving you their last congratulations of the day and asking some final questions. You’re happy to talk to everyone and answer with a smile but then questions begin to get more long term and topics you haven’t discussed with Sebastian yet. “Do you plan to use disposable or cloth diapers?”, “How do you plan to handle late night baby shifts?”, “Will you start a scrapbook?”, “How comfortable will you be with the baby around the farm animals and pets?”, “Do you want to have more children?”

Sebastian leaves most of the questions to you and nods along to your vague answers. But now he can tell exhaustion is starting to set in for you. He shoos away any more questions and ushers you back to the farm.

When you enter the house you take a vibrant purple and white flower out of the crown on your head and press it in a book in your living room. You make a mental note when you see Sebastian pass you carrying his laptop when you go to enter the bedroom. Finally in your sanctuary you shuck off the stuffy shoes and dress from the event. You perform your nightly routine and put on some comfy shorts and one of Sebastian’s shirts. As you’re about to climb into bed you realize Sebastian hasn’t come back into your shared bedroom. It’s only around 10 o’clock and Sebastian has been known to stay up late into the night, but town festivals usually prompt him to go to bed immediately afterwards. 

You walk back into the living room to find your husband sitting on the couch. He has already removed his suit jacket but is still in his dress shirt and slacks, hunched over his laptop on the coffee table. 

“Hun, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Oh, uhh. I’m just looking up some stuff.” He sheepishly replies to you. You look over his shoulder and see a page open for ‘Tips for Expecting Fathers’. “I wanted to find out what more I can do for you. I just feel so useless right now.”

Sebastian hasn’t been a helicopter spouse through your pregnancy so far. He trusts that you know your limits and will listen to Harvey’s orders. The only thing Sebastian has been insistent on has been not going into the mines and splitting the farm work. You still care for the animals, he helps you plant and water the crops, and you point out what is ready to harvest so he can collect them and put them in the shipping bin that Alex comes to collect each night.

Sitting down next to him you stroke his hair as he continues, “I mean, I’m paying attention at all the appointments with Harvey but it’s all advice for you. You’re growing a whole damn human and all I can do is bring you things and make sure you’re comfortable.”

Leaning into him you wrap your arms around his shoulders from the side, “Come to bed, love. Let’s talk tonight but we can do this later." You gesture to his laptop screen. He continues scrolling to a tip that recommends ‘General childbirth classes should be taken late second trimester to early third trimester’. “See, we have at least a month before we have to think about taking classes.”

Closing his laptop, he helps you stand and walks to the bedroom with you. You settle in bed as you watch him shed his formal attire. A heat begins to pool in you as more of his creamy, pale skin is revealed but you push it down, knowing that you need to have a serious conversation. After his nightly routine he hangs up the vibrant blue suit and flumps into his side of the bed in his boxers and an undershirt. 

“How are you feeling now?” You prompt.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know. I guess a lot of it hadn’t really settled in yet. Everyone asking all those questions today made me realize how little I know.”

“Our decisions on how to raise them can be made later. And our opinions could change so we don’t have to lock anything down yet.” You try to reassure him.

“And like you said before this happened earlier than we planned. If this had gone to plan around now would be when we’d just be finding out you’re pregnant. I know that I love you and I want this baby, but becoming a father is… it’s just something new.” He takes a deep breath. “Now that everyone in town knows it’s really starting to hit me, and I have no idea what I’m doing.” He tenses and throws his arms up before reaching up to rub his face, stressed. “When Maru was born I was five but Demetrius didn’t let me do anything and it stayed that way. And I wasn’t really involved with Vincent until he was about 3, and that was just babysitting duty with Sam at the beach or the park. So right now I’m just trying my best to be supportive of you because I know this is taking a lot out of you.”

“And I really appreciate all you’re doing. Giving me massages and working in the fields while you still have your own projects.” You say, attempting to reassure him.

“I’ve been cutting back on the projects actually. My clients probably think I’m just going through another depressive episode.” He sits up in bed, his hands flying to his head as his eyes glaze in panic. “And I just read that fathers can also get postpartum depression! Oh Yoba! What if I…”

“Hey, hey! You won’t.” You reassure him, slowly sitting up next to him and carding your fingers into his hair, a trick that usually calms him down. “And if it does happen we’ll figure it out together. We’re doing this together. Always remember that.” 

You mentally kick yourself for not seeing all these troubles have been building in his mind. Sebastian has always found your emotions easy to read but he still keeps his cards close to his chest. It usually comes out in evening conversations like this one but this spring has been very busy and you’ve been so tired by the end of the day that you haven’t been able to have them lately. Your stomach is doing flops, regretful to see your husband in such a state but… Hang on… You quickly grab his hand and place it on your stomach. 

There it is, the light fluttering you’ve been feeling lately. Sebastian finally looks at you, his eyes grow wide and his face changes from panic to shock to awe. “Thats…”

“Our baby.” You say resolutely. The movements continue and you smile lovingly at your husband, whose gaze is now firmly locked on your belly. “They’ve never moved this much. They must like your voice.”

Sebastian continues stroking your belly as the fluttering comes to an end. “Hey there. Nice to finally meet you. I’m your Papa.”

“Papa?”

“Thought I’d try it out.” He leans in and gives you a tender kiss. Laying you both back down facing each other he continues to roam your body with his hands. “Yoba, I love you. Both of you. So, so much.”

“And we love you too.” You share a warm smile with him. Placing your hand on his over your bump.

“I know I’ve heard their heartbeat at the clinic and seen you growing but this is…” Sebastian closes his eyes and soaks in this moment of adoration. “I swear I’m gonna put in more effort. The farm work felt inevitable just from living here and of course I want my wife to be comfortable so I don’t mind giving you massages.” He locks eyes with you unshaking. “But I’m gonna put in the real work. I’ll pound on Pierre’s door at any hour until he lets me in to get whatever you’re craving. I’ll help my mom build the nursery. I’ll cook you meals according to Harvey’s dietary plans and finally remember to leave out the coffee.” Tears start spilling over your eyes through his proclamations. “And I’ll hold you close through all your mood swings.”

He does just that and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his body. One of your hands moves around his waist while the other goes to your face to try and stifle your tears. Yet all of the emotions from today start to settle in and you are fully sobbing now. Sebastian places a kiss on top of your head that’s now resting against his chest before speaking in a hushed tone into your hair. “What’s on your mind, love. Talk to me.”

Through your sniffles you manage to say “Everyone is just so supportive and nice.”

“What did you expect? You’ve been the same to all of them since the day you moved here.”

Finally getting your tears under control. “It’s just… I’m so happy I moved here. That I met you and everyone in the valley.”

“I don’t know how I ever got you to fall for a schmuck like me.” Sebastian quips.

“Because under that edgy loner persona you really are a thoughtful, caring person.” You pull back to look into his eyes. “You learned to play the keyboard when Sam wanted to start the band. When you used to smoke by the lake you would bring an ashtray so the ashes wouldn’t get in the water. You rescued an injured frog and built a whole terrarium for them so you could nurse them back to health.” Sebastian looks away sheepishly through your praise of him, a light blush covers his nose and cheeks. “And you’ve done your best to quit smoking since we got married because you wanted to live a long life with me.” Your hand moves to your stomach again. “With us.”

Sebastian’s blush deepens “The valley used to feel so drab and meaningless, but you brought light here for me again. I often felt unappreciated at home… but I really feel like I belong here with you.”

The fluttering begins in your belly again, you both look down to where your bodies are pressed against one another. Sebastian somehow manages to pull you tighter against him

He continues. “To be honest, I never thought I'd end up in this situation… Married and a kid on the way. Now that I'm here, I like it… With you I'm excited about the future again. Thank you for giving me a family of my own and making me feel welcome in the valley.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, holding each other close and trading compliments. Both of you hoping to feel the movement in your belly again. Eventually you resign that it won’t be happening again tonight and let yourself fall into sleep. 

You dream of the Flower Dance. However this time you’re not dancing with your husband but with a small unknown child with dark hair and your smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I am so so sorry this took so long to get out. I swear this was 80% written when I posted pt. 1 but life gets in the way. 

I did an unnecessary amount of research on pregnancy while writing this. My housemate would be so concerned if she saw my search history…

[familyvideostevie]

october eleventh

day eleven: eddie munson you and eddie go to the harvest festival | fluff and first date vibes! | 1k

Eddie Munson asks you to the harvest festival and you panic a little bit. But you say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t you?

He’s kind of a friend through Robin and if she likes him you know he’s a good guy. You like how he laughs and how he never seems to take things too seriously but he still cares about his friends. You like his ripped jeans and his chain and his metal wardrobe even if it’s not what you wear or listen to. You think he’s funny and he tells you how pretty you look and he seemed just a little nervous to ask you which made him even more endearing.

It’s silly that anyone thinks he’s anything other than wonderful.

Plus, you’ve never actually been to the harvest festival even though you love fall. So, you’re double excited.

With your work schedule and Eddie’s commitments it makes sense for you to meet there. His van is a bit of a hazard so you’re perfectly okay driving yourself there, even if you had a dream last night about making out in his backseat.

You get there a few minutes later than you’d hoped and spot Eddie at the entrance in a heated discussion with a high schooler you know to be Dustin Henderson. The latter is gesturing wildly and Eddie looks like he’s going to tear his hair out. You call his name and he turns, grinning once he spots you.

He shoves Dustin’s hat further down on his head and the kid laughs and heads into the festival, flipping Eddie the middle finger. Eddie shakes his head but turns towards you and meets you halfway.

“Hi,” he says, breathless.

“Hello,” you say. “Did I catch you bullying a child?”

“He deserves it.” Eddie grins, gaze traveling from your head to your toes and back again. “You look nice.”

You look at your own outfit and smile because you agree. “Thank you,” you say. “So do you.”

He’s wearing his usual getup but it almost looks like he brushed his hair and is that…cologne? A little strong but that’s okay.

“Wanna do this thing?” he asks, holding out a ring-clad hand.

“Sure do.” Your joined hands hang between you as he pulls leads you under the arch and onto the grounds.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, squeezing your hand. One of the things you like about Eddie is his confidence but also his seemingly random bouts of nerves. It makes your stomach swoop in the best way to know that you’re one of the things that makes him nervous.

“Thanks for asking me,” you say. You decide to throw him a bone “I’ve been wanting to go on a date with you for ages.”

“Really?” He turns to look at you and looks genuinely surprised. “Could’ve asked me!”

You laugh and knock your shoulders together. “That would be too easy, Munson.”

The festival is like a country fair but a little smaller. There are vegetable and animal judging contests, a pie eating competition, and plenty of games. Pumpkin carving tables dot the fair grounds and booths from local farms sell honey and candles and produce. Ring toss and a wack-a-mole game have long lines, people of all ages and plenty of couples excited to give everything a try.

“What do you want to do?” he asks you. The wind whips down the path and you press a little closer to him.

“There are so many things,” you say, slightly overwhelmed. “We have to get cider doughnuts, right?” He nods. “And maybe a game?”

“Absolutely. We have to crush some kids.”

“And…” You look around before spotting something that makes you yelp with excitement. “Is that bobbing for apples?”

There are three huge barrels of water and they are full of apples. There is a round going on and you drag Eddie over.

“You want to do this?” he asks. You beam at him.

“Hell yeah I do. I was great at this when I was a kid.” You read the board at the sign-up table and gasp. “The prize for the most is 50 dollars!”

“Hell of a prize,” he says, impressed.

“I’m gonna do it,” you say. Eddie laughs. “Atta girl,” he says. You make sure all of your hair is out of the way and Eddie takes your bag and jacket so you don’t get water on them. A lady ushers you to one side of one of the barrels and you look around at the competition. Mostly all high schoolers, and one guy with a huge beard.

“Kill ‘em dead, sweetheart!” Eddie shouts from behind you.

The horn goes off and the music starts and you bob like your life depends on it. It occurs to you halfway through that this probably isn’t a cute thing to do on your first date but you want to win. If you do, you’ll buy Eddie some funnel cake for being a good sport about it. Are you a little too competitive for a small-town harvest festival? Maybe, but whatever.

You hear Eddie chanting your name behind you and you bob and bob and bob and you know you’re all wet but you don’t stop. The music finally cuts out and you stand, water dripping down your chin and into your collar. You wipe your eyes and find Eddie grinning and waiting behind you.

“You crushed it!” he whoops.

“Really?” Your pile of apples is pretty big, truth be told.

“Yeah,” he says, before stepping forward and resting a hand on your hip. You can see some light freckles on his nose this close. “And it was hot.”

That makes your stomach do something funny. Maybe Eddie Munson makes you a little nervous. The good kind,

He leans in like he’s going to kiss you but you put your hand on his chest.

“Eddie, my face is all wet.”

His expression says he very much does not care about that but he leans away to grab a towel anyway. He gently dries your cheeks, your forehead, your chin. Your hairline is a little damp but you don’t care much. You’ll have to come back at the end of the festival to see if you got the most apples but right now you’re focused on how Eddie is tossing the towel over his shoulder and leaning back in and —

You laugh against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23