#or a Beest even

[foldingfittedsheets]

My allergy injection this week has upgraded to officially burning and has also turned me into a floppy meat sack.

[busybussinbee]

there are BEES in my HEAD /ref

When you finally find out about your ADHD.

[whos-the-seme]

"You promised!" Shang Qinghua, despite his efforts, couldn't stop the gasping sobs. "You said you wouldn't leave me behind again! And then you died then and you're dying now and you promised!"

Shen Yuan reached for the other, fighting through the darkness and blurriness encroaching his vision. He managed to grasp his best friend's cheek, weak fingers brushing away the falling tears. "I'm sorry--"

"No! You don't get to be sorry," Shang Qinghua tried to sneer but his face crumpled instead. He didn't shake off Shen Yuan's hand. "This is the second time you're leaving. That's all you know how to do, isn't it? All you do is run away!"

"Qinghua--" Shen Yuan tried to say, but began to cough, hand falling away. The pain was unbearable and it was making it difficult to take in air. Shang Qinghua immediately reached out to steady him as Shen Yuan hacked out his lungs. In between each new flare of pain that swam along with every cough, Shen Yuan could make out the mumbles of his best friend.

"I didn't mean it, please, I didn't mean it, please not now, I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry, please, please..."

This was familiar. The pain, the loss of breath, even his best friend beside him, keeping him upright. All that was missing was the hospital bed and the frantic beeping of machines. No nurses coming to save his ass now in this forest.

Shen Yuan briefly lost consciousness and when he came back to himself, vision clearing a little, he found Shang Qinghua holding his wrist, pouring more qi into him. As if they hadn't already discovered that qi transfers didn't work when the thing taking all of his was the poison of a Soul-Sucking Bewildered-beest. Shang Qinghua could've tried to get him back to the sect but Shen Qingqiu would have been long drained of qi and, most importantly, dead by then. He couldn't fly and transfer qi at the same time.

It only prolonged the inevitable.

"S-stop," he said, weakly pushing at Shang Qinghua's hand. The other ignored him. "You're gonna d-drain yourself. And then you won't be able to get back at all."

"I don't care," Shang Qinghua said. Shen Yuan wondered how long he had lost consciousness for, as the tear tracks on Shang Qinghua's face were now mostly dry. "You promised."

"I know," Shen Yuan didn't apologize again. "But you know it's not gonna work. And I'd rather you return, at least." He could feel his eyelids getting heavy.

Shang Qinghua let go of him only to throw up his hands in anger. Fresh tears were starting to spill down his cheeks again. "So what? I just leave you here to die without even trying?" He balled up his fists. "Typical. You always think that your actions won't affect other people."

Shen Yuan got the sense that Shang Qinghua was referring to something else, but his mind was starting to get too muddy to think of what. Breathing was getting a little harder. A lot harder.

"Qinghua. A-Hua, please listen to me. C-could you come kneel down next to me? Right here." He waited until Shang Qinghua lowered himself a bit, still frowning, before gently placing his forehead against the other peak lord's. "Listen to me, okay? I know I broke my promise again. But you've found me before and I trust you'll find me again." He said between gasps of air.

"A-Yuan--"

"We've met again and again... and we'll keep meeting. I k-know it." Gasp. Cough. "Beyond all ideas of... right and wrong, there's a field." Vision dimming. Grasp slackening. "I'll be... waiting for you... there."

"A-Yuan?"

"..."

"A-Yuan!?"

"..."

A wail broke through the serenity of the forest.

[inexplicifics]

A Witcher fic for @domaystic prompt 7, story time, also on AO3!

“So,” Coën says.

Lambert groans and closes his eyes, wondering if he can pretend he’s still meditating.

“Admittedly, it is a hazard of our profession to end up covered in blood, mud, and more objectionable materials,” Coën says, with a lilt to his voice that says he knows he’s being a little shit. Oh, sure, Griffins are polite and honorable and gentlemanly - bullshit. They just sound all fancy, is all.

Lambert should know, he’s been sleeping with one of ‘em for nigh on a decade now.

“But how, my dear Wolf, did you manage to end up covered in honey?” Coën asks.

Lambert sighs. “You’re not gonna believe it if I tell you.”

“On the contrary, I know full well that you end up in the most marvelously unlikely situations,” Coën replies. “But if you wished to invite me to lick you clean, perhaps you might consider not suffering from a head wound at the same time as being honey-coated.”

Lambert sticks out his tongue. “It’s healed.” Which is why he was meditating instead of, oh, scrubbing the fucking honey off his armor and clothes and skin and - well. Everything.

“Hence my not being overwrought at your current blood-and-honey state,” Coën agrees. “But I am absolutely dying of curiosity as to how you acquired so much honey without an attendant number of beestings.”

Lambert heaves another huge sigh and opens his eyes. “Fine. Come help me get this shit off me and I’ll explain.”

Coën nods and rises, offering Lambert a hand up, and considerately doesn’t prod for answers until they’re both standing hip-deep in the stream, with Lambert’s armor stacked on the bank. Lambert is scrubbing himself down with handfuls of clean sand while Coën works assiduously at his sticky clothing.

“So,” Lambert says, gritting his teeth as his fingers catch in his hair. “Got a contract for a leshen.”

Coën hums interestedly.

“Y’know how most leshens have wolves?”

Coën hums again, nodding.

“This one had bees.”

Coën’s eyebrows go up. “Bees without stings?”

“Yes, actually.” Lambert shrugs. “Big fuckers - coulda carried off chickens if they wanted to, I bet. No stingers at all, though. Couldn’t do anything but run into me.”

“Fascinating,” Coën murmurs.

Lambert nods. “Honestly they were. Wonder if they’re still alive - maybe I could bring a couple back to Kaer Morhen, if I can catch ‘em.” He shrugs. “Anyhow, the fuckin’ leshen was this enormous thing, must’ve been thirty feet around. Got me with a branch when one’a the bees latched onto my fucking face.”

Coën winces.

Lambert doesn’t say that he thought he was going to die, looking up at the leshen towering over him, blood sheeting down his face, bees swarming around him. He doesn’t say that he knew there was no fucking way he could hack its head off before it smashed him. He doesn’t say that he wished for one bitter moment that he’d waited for Coën to arrive at their planned meeting point before he took the contract.

Instead he says, “Got a good solid whack in at it, and it turned out the damn thing was hollow.”

Coën’s eyes go wide. “Hollow?”

Lambert nods. “Like a fucking barrel.”

Coën tilts his head, regarding Lambert thoughtfully. “And let me guess - it was filled with honey?”

Lambert nods. “Full up to the fucking top. Soon as there was a split in the side, the whole damn leshen just shattered.”

He has rarely been as bewildered as he was watching a leshen disintegrate in a deluge of splinters and honey. It just…split, slowly at first and then too fast for even witcher eyes to follow, from the point where his sword had gouged it, and then he was being drenched in honey, mouth and nose and ears full of it, the force of the impact driving him to his knees in the suddenly sticky mud.

“A leshen full of honey,” Coën says slowly. “That is entirely unique in my experience.”

“Mine too,” Lambert agrees, and ducks underwater for a moment to rinse his hair. “Weirdest fucking thing I’ve seen in a while.”

“Would that I had seen it, too,” Coën says, and steps closer, curling a hand around the back of Lambert’s head and meeting his eyes squarely. “Next time, wait until I can join you, for a contract like that.”

Lambert swallows hard, remembering that bitter realization that he might never see Coën again because he was too damn impatient. “I will,” he promises.

“Good,” Coën says, and kisses him.

The last remnants of the honey taste far sweeter on Coën’s lips.

[m1d-45]

snapshot

summary: short, soft moments with your lover, featuring tighnari and neuvillette (separately) in that order.

word count: ~1k composite

-> warnings: big mention of bugs in tighnari's ! none shown but theyre discussed, as are bug bites. none for neuvi.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

bug bites were common among forest rangers. a special bug repellent was included in every pack, a black bottle with plain instructions. tighnari put effort into making it easy to apply and easier to understand, constantly finding new ways to promote its usage. if gone untreated, even small beestings can become serious. add onto it the fact that he was the one that inevitably had to treat them, and he had every motivation to ensure it was used. he made sure that spares were easily accessible, included demonstrations in training, and emphasized the importance of proper application before every patrol.

so why in teyvat did you keep getting bit?

every time, without fail, you returned from patrol scratching your wrist or ankle or wherever you inevitably got bit. and every time, he had to be the one to drag you to the medical hut. at least if you acknowledged the severity of the situation and brought your injuries to him on your own, that’d be understandable. he understood that the feeling of lotion wan’t bearable for everyone—he was in the process of transforming it into a mist to make it even easier—and he’d be happy to find ways to keep you inside if that was the case. there was no shortage of small chores to be done, and with collei now in full recovery, you could easily take her place.

but no. of course not. that would be too easy. his partner happened to be the most stubborn ranger on the squad, with the worst affinity for bugs he’d ever seen.

“how does this always happen to you?”

you shrug, pulling his mint plant off the shelf and beginning to tear off a few leaves. part of him is proud you at least know the proper treatment, though it’s quickly overshadowed by the angry swelling on your hand. he takes the leaves and nudges you toward the chair, searching his drawers for the rest of the poultice.

“how long ago did you get bit?”

“maybe half an hour.”

“half an-” he twisted open the tin with too much force, sighing. “and you didn’t come back immediately why?”

he can hear the smile in your voice. “it wasn’t that serious.”

“…what color was it?”

“yellow.”

“really?”

“and striped. probably a wasp.”

he didn’t know how you had the energy to be sassy, tearing the leaves into shreds and mixing it into the tin. your eyes were red with tears and you hissed when he spread the medicine over your wrist, clearly in pain. the area around your bite was hot to the touch, and he could feel his ears pull back in worry.

“why do you insist on going on patrol?” why do you insist on getting hurt?

“it’s not a big deal.” i don’t care about my pain.

“it is.” i do.

he wiped off his hands and grabbed a roll of bandages, wrapping your hand. your fingers flinched whenever he pulled it too tight. how could you insist on putting yourself at risk like this?

he taped down the end, holding your hand in his. “if it gets too itchy, come back to me, okay?” will you let me care for you?

“of course i will.” i’ll try.

he brought your hand to his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

maybe this time, you’d mean it.

rain was common in fontaine. gutters lined every road and fountains sprayed wherever there was enough room to put one. carved bricks channeled water out of the plazas, every inch of the city designed with rainfall in mind. steep roofs fell over wide awnings, thick greeting rugs in front of every building. when it rained, it poured, though no puddles lay in the streets. sharp lights cut through the dense fog hanging over ivory walls, lighting up the city even when the clouds blocked out the sun.

but the world did not come to a standstill merely because the weather asked it to. boots were sold covered in waterproof wax, many-layered skirts designed to flick off water in a single twirl. fashion was as beautiful as it was untouchable, the very idea of something being vulnerable to waterlog appalling and confusing. who would create such a thing? who would wear it without an umbrella? and, entirely separate from that: who would ever consider leaving the house without an umbrella?

umbrellas were as vital to fashion as they were to the ever-changing weather. they came in every color and shape, made to match every conceivable outfit one could wear. and if, by some miracle, you couldn’t find one that did, there were a plethora of boutiques offering custom embroidery. the steambird was eager to comment on the shifting designs across officials’ umbrellas, trends flowing in and out of their fashion column like the tide. everyone who worked in the court that had stepped outside on a rainy day—which was about as common as the sun rising—had their appearance meticulously documented; unless they refused being in the paper, of course, in which case other less-reputable sources picked up the story instead.

all were reported on, making the front page if not the headline. all, but one.

the iudex did not carry an umbrella. he also declined to entertain any questions as to why, merely stating that simple fact and moving on with his day. his hair clung to his face, even his suit darker with water. he walked down the less crowded roads so he wouldn’t bump into anybody, seeming entirely unbothered by the rain. sometimes he’d turn a palm toward the sky, as if checking that it was still there, and then continue on his way.

you always hated this habit of his. no matter how many times he insisted that he wouldn’t get sick, it was always worrying to open your door and find your lover soaked from head to toe. no water slips from him to your floors, not even from the soles of his boots, the click of his heels and your worried tone the only sound in the house. it was already late as it was, and there was no point to fuss about details at this hour.

“what happened?”

he shed his coat, suspended droplets hovering in the air around him. “the marechaussee phantom were called to mount automnequi; a melusine was badly injured by a rogue mek, and a fisherman had to pull her from the sea. i paid her a visit after work.”

that would explain things. he lets you wipe off his face, careful not to smudge the eyeliner that never seems to fade. already, the rain was beginning to let up, lightening from a downpour. rain in fontaine was as fickle as it was frequent…

“is she alright?”

“of course. the gardiennage provides excellent doctors.”

“then there’s no need to worry.” cupping his now-dry face in your hands, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “she’ll be back in her feet in no time.”

the slightest of smiles crossed his face, his hands keeping yours on him. outside, the skies were clearing, pale blue quickly streaming through the clouds.

perhaps umbrellas would fall out of fashion soon, if rains could cease before they truly had the chance to begin.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 14

MASTERLIST

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Summary: Messmer and the Tarnished use the time to think over what just happened. The Tarnished catches Messmer up on everything she's discovered.

A/N: This chapter is labelled a spicy chapter 🌶️ Warnings for this chapter: making out, slight dry humping, mentions of some sexual content

A03 link

Chapter 14: Consolation

There are many things you've come to enjoy about Messmer's chambers: from the plush rugs and silk red and gold trim to the warmth that seems to encapsulate the entire room, it feels to be the warmest part of the Keep. The darkness he lives in has swallowed you entirely, not that you can complain. You feel as if you want to be swallowed by it, taken into its arms and tended to. The warmth of his room feels similar to the bathhouse, and you cannot complain when you have just died.

It is something you crave first when you come back to the living; heat. You can only describe coming back from the dead as waking from being drowned; your lungs burn, skin feels frozen and stiff. The only comfort you can hold is the cloak Messmer offered to you without a second thought. It engulfed you when he placed it around your shoulders, his scent was a familiar smell you felt reassurance from.

You've not once taken your eyes off the flames in the hearth. The warmth that consumes you brings the heat back to your once-cold body. Your limbs begin to feel less rigid by the minute. Despite it all, you have to remind yourself you're still alive, your heart beats once again, and your blood flows throughout your entire body.

You still feel its presence, the press of a blade against your skin, the blood and how it flowed out from your wound, how painful each death grows and seems to draw you further and further away from feeling truly alive.

Dying takes a toll on you, over and over again, but it is rather an acceptance you've grown to live with. You shudder, your hand snaking its way to find comfort in stroking the healed skin of your throat, aware of his eye watching you from the corner of the shadows.

Messmer sits idly, not as close as you wish, but you feel his presence, sulking in the shadows as he does best, occasionally disassociating to stare off into the hearth or keeping his eye on you. He has been silent since you came back, where he brought you to his room "for safety". There is still a threat in the air, you can feel it throughout the entire Keep; how there is a feeling that has grown hostile. Regardless of everything the two of you went through, you want to explain things to him so badly, but you don't even know where to begin.

You know when Messmer wishes to speak when you can see from the corner of your eye him wringing his hands together, collecting the right words and courage to speak.

"Thou must be tired." It is not a question, but rather an observation that comes from the redhead, his voice does not hide how tired he sounds himself. You look away momentarily from the fireplace, catching a glimpse of him, shuffling closer to sit beside you on the floor.

It is not too difficult to not spot him, from his red hair that looks to be flames itself, how vibrant it looks. He is fire-made flesh, and you admit to yourself he looks ethereal. Now that he's closer to you, you feel his mere size, how he almost engulfs you sitting side by side, but it is a comfort you've grown yearned for.

"I think I'm fine," you mutter, though you're not sure if you're saying it to him or yourself. You hope your words can ease the silence of the room, but it still feels strange how all of this is happening. You clench and unclench your fingers, the cold takes forever to thaw from them no matter how close to heat you are. "This is all part of the cycle."

"T shouldn't has't to beest," Messmer's voice is quieter, it draws like a hiss from his lips. They form into a hard line, face scrunched. You glance over at him, eyebrows etched in confusion. He continues, "thee shouldn't has't to endureth yond."

"You'd wish I was dead?" You ask, a jest, but it doesn't lighten the mood. The look Messmer gives you could be a mixture of hurt and a scowl. You can tell he's not taking any of this well. His serpents have coiled into him, enjoying the warmth of the room, making his presence smaller, more gaunt. His skin appears to look brighter in contrast to the light cast from the fires, but you can still look beyond it to see just how done he looks. Without the red of his infamous war cloak, he looks certainly more like royalty than a soldier.

"Nay," he seems genuinely shocked you would ask that, "thee doth not knoweth what I did see."

You feel something lurch within your chest, witnessing his vulnerability. You know he is trying to hide this with a shield but cracks are forming. "Messmer-"

"Thee... died." His voice is a mere whisper, and you notice that on his hands, even in the soft darkness of the room, there is still a tinge of red that stains his skin and his fingernails. It seems this has all taken a toll on him, and he is silently absorbing it all alone.

You can remember it all, through your life slipping through his hands, the way he cradled you to his chest, the way he gave you solace in your dying breaths. The vulnerability you both shared was one you still feel, how his ghostly touches are still felt on your skin, the feel of them stroking your hair out of your face.

You try to console him, "I live now." You try to give him a small smile, but it feels foreign to you to be comforting someone over your death. Tarnished are never mourned, so why does it feel so odd to be given this chance to be grieved finally?

"Thee liveth anon, but what if the next is the lasteth? What then?" Messmer asks, making you think: when could it all be taken away? Could your final moments happen the next time?

It would be poignant if Marika had finally been done with you, tearing her guidance from your body with no final warning. It did make you realise how reckless you'd been. Or perhaps, death hadn't been as frightening as when you knew you would come back? You realised how right Messmer was, how careless you had been this entire time, treating dying to play a roulette game.

He continues, "I feared thee wouldst never awaken. Yond mine own mother's direction hadst died 'alongside thee."

"I'm sorry-- I didn't know-"

"Yond is correct," he raises his voice in a hiss, "thee didn't knoweth. Thy recklessness couldst beest thy downfall, what then shalt those doth if thee art not here?" It's when his golden eye softens, he retreats slightly when he spots how his raised voice has made you noticeably flinch.

He sighs tiredly, averting his gaze. "Forgive me. I has't hath said too much."

"Messmer, wait-" You don't think he'll listen to you, so you do one thing you can think of. Leaning with enough force, you manage to grab his hand before he's too far away. The warmth of his skin is expected, yet it always surprises you just how hot his blood runs with the serpent within. You think he is even warmer than the heat of the flames.

The redhead looks down on you with genuine surprise, his eye watching you warily. "Please, stay."

Messmer's breath catches in his throat, but he relents, sitting back down, a bit closer to you now.

You speak up finally. "I... you are right. I was reckless, childish even. I wasn't thinking." You glance at him quickly, catching his gaze already looking at you. "I had... there was still so much I had to do, to apologise to you, and gods, they kept me up there, locked in my own mind, torturing me so I could not-"

You freeze, realising you had to elaborate on the chosen words you used. Messmer is intrigued. "Locked hence thee sayeth? By what?"

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you hesitate. You cannot stop thinking about the false Godwyn, fighting him, to seeing a young Messmer. Even now, you can see such similarities: the boyish youth frozen in time on his face. He is forever a man changed by all and he can only continue and not look back. "I do not know where to even begin."

"The hornsent kneweth of mine own whereabouts," Messmer answers, "t'is not the first those has't cometh for me."

It is when Sir Ansbach's words draw you to reality: to remember the crucial part of it all. Miquella is using it for a greater purpose, even better than his mother's.

"Miquella." Your words loom a great deal of dread through Messmer, but he is silent, allowing you the moment to speak. "He is ascending to godhood, to become a far greater God than your mother. Mohg-- he's using his corpse for something, a vessel of some sort."

You continue, "There is more. Needle Knight Leda said that there was a purpose in me finding you, to hunt you." You wrack your fingers together nervously. "Your flame, they need your flame for-"

"The sealing tree," Messmer answers for you. You know what he talks of, in the Ancient Ruins of Rauh, the thick, blackened twisted vines that block entrance to the tower; that no normal flame could burn down. "Those needeth mine own kindling to enter."

He's oddly calm beside you, and you realise he must've accepted his demise a very long time ago. It makes you wonder how many have come to have their vengeance, how many times his life has been on the line and how often he has thought what comes after his death. Would he be so willing to risk his life and flame? What if the only way to open it was for him to be killed?

Messmer senses the way you've tensed up, the way you have disassociated from your thoughts. He nudges you lightly to bring you back, and you know he's looking at you and trying to find the best possible thing to say. There is an acceptance that is heavy in his words when he speaks to you.

"If 't be true t'is mine own flame thee needeth, thee shalt has't t. But I only asketh for thy blade to endeth mine own life."

You turn to him in bafflement, realising just what he had said. "No way am I going to kill you. Just because your kindling is needed, doesn't mean I need it. Leda can search all she can, but it will not stop me from harming you."

Messmer laughs wryly, "Wherefore wouldst thee wisheth to keepeth me safe? A wretched soul did bind to this form, cursed." He stares down at his clawed hands. "Mine own life hast known nay loveth, nay warmth, only the serpent inside twists and wishes wishes for freedom."

You tell yourself if you confess now, it may ruin everything between you two. That professing all would take back everything you tried to mend. You can't just not say it though, it calls to you, and you wish for him to know just how much he is cared for.

Placing a hand over his, you draw his attention by gently directing his face to look over at you. "Your men look out to you, Messmer. They would start a war in your name. Miquella is frightened of the threat you stand as. He would be a fool if he did something so soon."

"And thee? What is thy purpose as a Tarnished? If 't be true not our deal, what doth thee standeth for?"

"I stand with you because I want to. Because... I care for you and your safety. If they could send hornsent assassins, what more could come? You were alone and I-" You catch your breath in your throat, "I was scared to lose you."

Messmer seems to let his guard down, his face is not as scowled or scrunched up as it normally looks, rather, it has softened upon hearing your words. "I feared for thee, the moment I did hold thee in mine own arms." He gasps audibly, lost in the moment. "Forgive me, this all doth feel so much."

"It is alright," you murmur and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, looking over the flames. You feel your heart racing, excitement and fear tears at you and your mind races. You cannot stop thinking about his touches and how you wish for more. Would that be too much to crave?

It's only now do you realise how handsome he looks in this light and those feelings are bubbling to the surface. His face seems so close yet not close enough, his strong straight nose makes him look more regal and angelic that you find it too hard in instinct to brush part of his red hair back, catching him off guard.

His own eye is boring into you, mixed emotions you could not ever know what he was expressing, and almost on instinct, your eyes move from his eye downwards, glancing so shamelessly down at his lips. Messmer's throat bobs nervously, noticing your glances but keeps his eye trained on you. You feel like a squeamish girl, giggling over crushes and blushing at comely princes and knights. Maybe it is courage or the heat of the room that is making your body feel flush, with the need to just be closer to him.

In the heat of the moment, you slowly begin to lean closer.

Messmer, rigid in his spot, looks hesitant too as you lean slowly up to his face, before he corrects himself quickly, "Swear to me thee shall not risketh thy life again?"

Your nose awkwardly bumps against his chin from backing out from doing something foolish, pulling back and averting your gaze from him. How you thought he would like you like that would jeopardise the entire friendship you had built with him, trying to knock those walls down of his only for your fears to spill over.

You nod shyly, noticing the familiar warmth that is flushed to his cheeks as well. 

"I swear it."

It's a different night when he finds you again, with a head in the book in the dead of night; consumed in the darkness of the storehouse.

"Art the books of interest for thee did miss dinner?"

He notices that in the darkness of the large room, you're simply dressed in a nightgown, a silk red shift covering you from the chill. He averts his gaze when he notices he's staring too long at your bare collarbones on display, the way your skin looks so soft; the rise and fall of your chest as his eye drifts to the curvature of your breasts-

"I didn't know you were waiting for me. Rather, you'd prefer to enjoy your meal alone." You speak, your voice soft as your eyes drift from the pages to look up at him. He has now found a seat beside you on the floor, resting his back on the bookshelf, careful not to shuffle the books as he leans over to look at what you're reading, pulling away when he realises he can see very clearly down your nightgown.

You know you've been avoiding him to allow for you to not make a fool of yourself, only further pushing him away from you. You realise that you've stepped over the ledge, and surprisingly, it is Messmer who is showing he has not pushed you away. 

"Is't too much to sayeth yond I did miss thee?" He asks, making you realise just how close he is this time to you, you can smell something citric on him that you cannot place, "T doesn't frighteneth thee??"

"No." You lean into him, and he does not pull away this time. You realise up close that he's just as nervous as you feel, his skin is flush, and his cheeks too. You look to his shaking hands, before noticing he wishes to do something. You catch his eye once more, silent yet begging internally. It's then that you see he too looks down your face, towards your lips before looking up to your eyes again.

"Thee shall engulf me whole one day," Messmer confesses softly, saying your name. "Though, t'is not something I wisheth to fleeth from."

"I do not wish to be away from you." You confess, watching his throat bob nervously.

From the candle that shines dimly in the darkness, the two of you finally feel whole.

You don't know who kisses who first, for his mouth is quick to connect against yours, pulling away quickly upon realisation. He doesn't pull away fully, only enough to ask with his gaze alone if this is alright, if he has made a mistake. You do not pull away, this time pulling him back as he lurches forward, clumsily holding you by the shoulders as you capture his lips to yours.

His lips are chapped, but warm, allowing you to kiss back and take charge. You realise he is hesitant, his hands are clumsy and are unsure where to hold you. You show him where, his golden eye eager to learn as you place his large hands along your waist, allowing him to pull you closer to him. 

He readjusts you a few times due to his height, finally settling with him almost leaning over you, moaning heartily against your lips when you nibble on his lower lip.

"Thee shall beest the death of me." He mutters against your plush lips, his breath hot as you consume his lips before he can continue, feeling the way his limbs shake with either nerves or excitement. It makes your heart swell to know you're maybe his first, or that he's so flustered that he cannot keep his hands off you.

It is Messmer who gains the courage to pull you over him, your thighs caging him as you straddle his waist, not taking a break from kissing him. His scent envelops you, his clawed hands finding purchase on your hips, and you're aware that you're sitting directly above his groin from the way you shift and he lets a long groan out. 

You pull back suddenly, thinking you've hurt him when you notice how red his cheeks are. His eye is blown wide, dilated and taking you in. Your nightgown has been tugged upwards, giving him a view of your thighs, and your sleeve has fallen off your shoulder so he can see more of your skin.

"Thou art fine art," he marvels, tugging you back for a kiss, soft moans leave your lips from his compliment. "A goddess hast did bless mine own eye."

You now blush at his words, fidgeting in his lap, feeling the warmth spread through your chest downwards, to grow hotter between your legs. "Messmer-" You whine, your body twitching and jolting upright, now feeling something warm and large below you.

Messmer groans against the clothes' friction, whispering against your heated skin as he moves you slowly on him, feeling the way the tent rubs deliciously against you. "Starlight, thee feeleth most wondrous." He groans, and you move in tandem with him, the friction has built that it feels too good between your legs.

The two of you continue to make out like horny teenagers, groping, teasing, gyrating against one another until your legs are slick with need. "I need you." You whine against his lips and Messmer makes a noise in the back of his throat in reaction, jolting his hips upright to meet yours with need.

"Thee has't me, thee has't me." He repeats like a chant, suddenly pulling back to look into your eyes to see if he has your permission, the consent to continue this further. There is a hesitancy to all that you notice in him, but you know he wishes to please you. "Prithee, alloweth me showeth thee what kindness I can giveth."

-

A/N: This was anticipated and I don't know what was keeping me from writing this! I hope it's still something readers are still wanting to read. I can promise excitedly that the next chapter will be the long-awaited smut!

[ohtransarchon]

not to get too personal or anything but my nephew recently came out as trans to me and it's the best thing in my life. I was speculating if he was gonna be trans one day like yeaaaaars a go and what do you know, my trans-dar is on top! (mostly because we were and are nearly identical so I really just looked at a little me)

I've been helping him out a bit here and there as his trans uncle ™️ aaand because his mom (my sis) is kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinda like not the beest on being super supportive on that whole deal- she could barely handle me transitioning so I mean I was scared at how the whole situation would go. I was informed she wouldn't even get him a binder before he was 18 which is upsetting. so I tried to tell him little tips and tricks to use to diy bind n shit. BUT recently I got some good news!

His mom bought him a binder and I'm so incredibly happy for him. He sent me a picture and he's positively shining :] I love the little guy, they're like the little sibling I never got haha

I'm glad he's getting a chance to explore himself and like... not live his teens the way I did. I was sad and dysphoric and alone and I hope he gets to just live as a teenager!

shout out to my trans nephew, you rock and I'll always have your back!

[sulumuns-dootah]

31. 10. Piercings - Beelzebub + Bael

    ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Helltober '24☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N: We did it freaks! :D It's the last day of October and what a ride it was! ^^ Thanks for all the support on this event! ♥ I had a lot of fun writing it and coming up with the prompts, so I hope you enjoyed it too!^^

    ༺☆༻

“Y/N, are you comfortable? If you want, you can move a bit.”

“Aw, no... They're being so good right now and it would be a shame if this little buddy came out crooked.” Beelzebub chuckles in response to Bael's soothing words, trying to make you feel more at ease as the king of gluttony carefully marks out the spots on your nipple that he'll soon pierce.

“Easy for you to say, asshole... But I'm the one who's about to lose it with how tightly they're squeezing me.” the fake king growls and smooths his hands down your hips as they sit so prettily on his cock like it's the throne of Abyssos.

When Beel appeared in his country all of a sudden on one fall evening, all Bael had for him was a giant pile of paperwork and a very long list of complaints. Instead of humoring him for at least a few minutes, however, the lord of flies strutted right by him without sparing a glance and deeper into the castle to find you, of all the demons.

“Y/N~! I have a surprise for youu~ huhu!” he sings as he follows the sweet smell of your sweat and perfume.

So that's how you find yourself, currently cockwarming Bael as the king himself officially turns you into a rightful citizen of his country. Out of the many choices you'd been able to pick from, you've chosen a nipple piercing since it's a fun secret to have, but it's also easy to hide from all the other, jealous kings if need be.

“Hmm... Here comes the flysting, you better prepare!” he now chuckles as he finally reaches for the piercing needle and lines it up with the first marked out dot.

“You mean a beesting, shi-mmh!” Bael is about to throw another still-angry remark, but is cut off due to your walls clenching onto him for dear life at the small bit of pain as the sharp needle slides through your flesh.

You've never seen Beel act so gently before as right now that he's carefully sliding your new metal jewellery through the new opening. It only hurts a bit now, but you're already prepared for any pain that will come with healing.

A small trickle of blood travels over your chest down, but the king is quick to lick up the trail and planting multiple playful bites far enough from your nipple to not irritate it any further until it's fully healed. You can't help, but feel your walls flutter at every bite and in turn making the fake king grunt in impatience.

“Huhu, you can move now~! Just be careful to not bounce too hard.” Beel teases with a wink and falls to his knees, fully revelling in the smell of your arousal.

“Hah, fuck, about time now..!” Bael scoffs and immediately starts to pick up a rather rushed pace as much as he's able to in the position you're in. The almost sudden change of state from sitting to being knocked upwards by the sheer force of his thrusts makes every sound escape from your lips.

You're so focused on the noble destroying your hole, that you don't even notice the king moving to fully dive between your legs to lick and suck like a starved man. Once you realise what's going on, you let out the loudest moan, you're sure everyone in the palace knows by now.

All the stimulation blurs your vision and your hands seek anything to ground you so you don't loose your mind, although there are worst ways to achieve that for sure. Going to the source of all the intense pressure, your fingers brush against something slippery and hard. Beelzebub's horn.

To return and also feel more connected to reality, your hand wraps around the slick spike and allows the power of Bael's thrusts to guide your hands movement. Beel thanks you for the action with continuous string of moans, vibrating against you, to match your own. And if you were to look down, you'd see his gorgeous green and golden eyes rolling back.

The only seemingly quiet one in the room is Bael, but that's only because your and the king's moans together cover the sound of the fake king's low growls and grunts.

The whole moment is so heated, with the two demons not giving you much free space between them and all the energy put into your actions, that you body can only deal with it by sweating. The smell of it not going amiss by the two Abyssos kings, helping to bring their release closer and closer.

You're not that far off either. At some point Bael leant backwards slightly, bringing you with him, which only causes him to hit deeper inside you and allowing the starved king better access to wetly slurp at your heated flesh.

Beelzebub can sense your release and can't help but chuckle, sending more vibrations to your sensitive parts. The sole action finally allowing you to reach the most intensive orgasm you've ever felt. In the bliss state your body convulses, making your hand and walls tighten around the two best friends.

Soon enough you can feel the king below you coat your hand with his horn cum and his advisor your walls with his dick cum.

As you're all coming down from your highs and catching your breaths, Bael sharply points at his king, not even having pulled out yet, “Don't think you're off the hook... There's still a mountain of papers you've gotta sign!”

    ༺☆༻

Shhh... Don't worry, I didn't forget about Amodeus and the prompt Shower(as chosen by the vote)! Asmo's will come out a bit later today ^^

[m1kedefendr]

Cmon thee can’t leaveth, it’s raining

hark i hath said i wast s'rry, good now?

it’s a merit campaign, it’s very much merit, we’re just not in the humor

yea, michael, yond is the problem

thee guys art nev'r in the humor anym're! thou art ruining our party!

yond is not true!

very much? wh're is dustin even but now? seeth thee doth not knoweth and thee doth not coequal careth, and obviously that gent doest not eith'r and i doth not censure that gent! thou art destroying ev'rything and f'r what? so thee can swap spiteth with some no more brain than stone wench?

el is not no more brain than stone, t is not mine own fault thee doth not liketh girls! … i am not trying to beest a j'rk, well enow? but we art not kids anym're. i cullionly what didst thee bethink, very much? yond we w're nev'r going to receiveth girlfriends? yond we w're just going to sitteth 'round in mine own basement playing games f'r the rest of our liveth?

yeah i didst, i guesseth i very much didst.

[dysphoriaposting]

Obsessed with Home Safety Hotline and all the holidays and settings you could smack it in:

Beachfront property with rich clients? Careful, a kelpie may snag your zero common sense child. Oh, and your husband is suddenly cheating on you with an ethereal, gorgeous woman with hair like ocean froth and skin like the moon's light? Gotta find that selkie fur. Oh, and also watch out for high tide.

Easter expansion with spring beests? Sneaky fae that fill trees with offspring that make tree trunks swell as if pregnant? Rabbit. Man. Fae Flu at an all time peak, maybe even making affected individuals' whole bodies swell up with flowers, like a garden patch? Oh, and also silverfish are really common this time of year.

Rural hotline with people basically dealing with huge fae who aren't afraid of humanity? Watch out, the Green Man encroaches on humanity almost daily! Massive beasts whose legs touch the ground but whose bodies are in the clouds roam Farmer Dan's cornfields... Oh, and also grizzly bears.

[venomousray]

I love that I’m not even hiding my interests. Ever. See me outside and I’m rocking the broms babes pin the tinky pin the homeless guy and Ted keychains and the tin can bros spilled milk shirt and a bald wiggly and beesting tinky in my lord in black backpack I’m like a walking advertisement for three of the greatest things of all time I swear.

[scenteddelusion5]

A Daring Creature - Part 4

Zestial x fem reader angel

Note: I at first wanted it to ba a longer chapter but I like the way it ended right here. I felt adding to it would make the sweet moment, like, POP less. If that makes sense?

Word count: 1462

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Two months went by, every other day did Zestial take Y/n out to explore the pride ring. The two grew closer and closer, he got enamoured by her antics and she started to appreciate his calm and stoic personality, even though she also liked to rile the demon up sometimes.

The new cloaked stranger that was always with Zestial did not go unnoticed by the masses. Demons either were too afraid to get involved or wanted to know everything about the girl, the latter of which were mostly fellow overlords.

It started to become more and more difficult to keep Y/n away from people like Alastor and Vox, avoiding them became a daily struggle. Zestial almost wanted to keep Y/n inside for a few weeks so the fuss would die out but after seeing how her face immediately lost her shine and became saddened, he scratched that idea. And thus they continued the hide-and-seek game.

And Zestial had to admit, he was pretty good at it. That was until one day the two were walking down the street and saw Alastor walking around the corner. Without a second to think, Zestial turned to two around to walk the other way, only to see Vox and Valentino on the other side.

He quickly grabbed Y/n by the arm and dug into an alleyway. If he remembered it correctly, he was pretty sure there was a backway entrance to Carmine's home there. Finding the door, they swiftly made their way inside without the overlords seeing them.

"I'm getting sick of having the hide every time we see one of them," Y/n complained, "I wish they would just leave me alone."

"I understand, however, we can not afford one of those finding out thy secret." Zestial straightened his own cloak.

"Zestial?" Carmilla walked into the little hallway. "It isn't like you to visit unannounced."

"Mine own deepest apologies Carmilla," Zestial greeted his old friend, "it was an emergency."

"I see." She looked Y/n up and down again, a hint of disapproval could be found in her stare. "Come in, now that you're here I would like to discuss something with you."

Y/n was about to follow the two overlords into another room, when Carmilla stopped her.

"I would like to discuss this alone." Her tone changed from disapproving to downright hostile. "Sit still and stay here, do you think you can accomplish it this time or should I call in someone to watch you like a pet?"

"I'll be fine," Y/n answered while gritting her teeth.

As soon as the two overlords made it to the office, Zestial gave the woman a glare. "Yond wast uncalled for Carmilla."

"It is true. You've been prancing this girl around town like a pet, showing everyone one of your weak links and for what?" She questioned, "we both know there would be easier and safer ways to go about holding up your end of the deal."

"I hast mine own reasons for doing this," he argued back.

"What reasons? Because of your deal you can ask anything of this girl, there is no need to butter up to her so she'll agree to spy on the heavens for you. She'll HAVE to agree!" She took a few breaths to calm down. "As long as you haven't decided why you are doing all this, I can't support you. I won't do anything against you but I can't risk my people's and my safety for a plan you yourself may sabotage."

"Carmilla, I greatly appreciateth thy concern and opinion, however, this is the way I hath chosen to handle mine own planeth." Zestial stood up and made his way to the door. "So thee and I shall not beest meeting eachoth'r for a some timeth."

"Unfortunately yes," the other overlord agreed.

Y/n had been sitting on a small chair in the hallway, brooding. How dare that bitchy overlord woman call her a pet? Who does she think she is? It's true that Carmilla was smart, strong, powerful and a badass business woman... But still, she couldn't just talk to others that way! ....Or maybe she could? Y/n was in hell after all, things like equality and basic respect for others didn't exist here, something Zestial had shielded her from.

Such thoughts plagued the angel's mind

If he had been walking through the streets with Carmilla, all if this wouldn't be happening... Imagining Zestial and the other overlord walking around, laughing, going on outings, it twisted Y/n's stomach. It was the unfamiliar, sickening feeling of jealousy.

That's when Zestial appeared back in the hallway with a scowl on his face, one Y/n had been able to draw out many times with her stunts. However, unlike before, she felt something heavy on her heart.

"Alloweth us wend." Zestial didn't give her glance as left the building, assuming the angel would follow him, which she did.

The two walked the streets in silence. Before Y/n had wanted to propose going to that lovely park with the flowers again but she was afraid their moods would just sour the good memories she had there. Instead she just looked down at the pavement and wandered behind Zestial aimlessly.

The overlord was barely paying attention to where he was going. All he could focus on were Carmilla's words ringing in his ears. It's true that all of this could be done easier but going around town with y/n was a good way to build up trust and a relationship with her. That he needed because, well because...

He needed it. He decided, not letting himself ponder further on the subject, too afraid of what he would find. Instead he noticed the unusual lack of disruption from the angel.

Looking back, he noticed Y/n. She was looking sad, hiding under the cloak and big hood. Zestial could barely see the girl's face. Had Carmilla's comment really bothered her so?

"Doth not beest bothered, Y/N," he spoke up, "I doth not bethink of thee as a pet. Carmilla was simply trying to behold out for me and becameth a did bite too hostile towards thee in the processeth."

"So, you aren't mad at me?" She asked in almost a whisper.

"I couldst never be angry with thee."

Y/n's face lightened up after hearing that. "Really? That's a very dangerous statement you just made there," she taunted.

"I am sure." Zestial had a small but sincere smile on his face. "I doth not maketh false statements."

"Alright then mister tall, dark and spidery, I'm taking your hat!" She jumped up and tried to grab his hat but was unable to reach it.

"Absolutely not." Zestial commented as Y/n made several more attempts to reach it, all of which the overlord was able to avoid.

"What's with the stern tone? I thought you just said you would never get mad at me?" She smirked.

It was truly a sight to behold, first the two were almost dancing around each other as the anger was trying to steal his hat and now she was on her tippy toes staring up at him. The sight made Zestial's heart beat faster.

"No one hast did dare to challenge me in such ways thee doth." Zestial blushed slightly. "Thou art a truly daring creature, Y/n."

"It's called banter." Y/n was swiftly able to snatch the hat off as the overlord had put his guard down.

"Banter?"

"Yes, banter." The angel was adjusting the hat, fiddling with the hem and turning it slightly. "Maybe you should buy a dictionary."

Zestial chuckled at the way his hat was clearly too big for her. "I owneth enough dictionaries."

"A modern one, I mean."

"Anon, thou art very much pushing it."

Having noticed how tired Y/n was, the overlord decided to bring her back home. They had a long day and he had to work on a few of his papers again. Zestial had to admit, he had been neglecting his duties a bit.

Zestial was sitting in his office. The old clock on the wall read 3 am. It had been a while since he had to work this late but it was the price he had to pay for his daytime outings. It did give him time to reflect on the eventful day.

"Edward." The overlord called upon his contractee.

The small demon appeared immediately. "Yes, sir?"

"How is Y/n faring?"

"She ate well and is now sound asleep," he reported, "would you like me to wake her up?"

"Alloweth her to sleep" Zestial sighed, "prithee wend out and buyeth a dictionary for me."

"A dictionary?" Edward mumbled to himself. "A particular preference? I heard the Store for Old Books and Testaments has acquired an old dictionary."

"No, I wanteth a modern one."

"A mode-"

"Yes."

"I'll see to it sir."

Part 5 - unfinished

I was finally able to work in the title!!!

Masterlist/Request guidelines

Taglist: @sirenetheblogger

[fraugwinska]

This is a prologue to 'Game Night' (about 80 years before) enjoy! TW: murder, gore, mentions of war, mentions of SA Minors DNI!

Getting called into you Boss's office was bad. But getting called into you boss's Boss office was even worse.

When Archie staggered over to you, almost tripping over his storck legs, he looked almost panicked. "I don't know what you did, but Zestial wants to talk to you. What the fuck did you do?!"

You didn't react. You kept on typing the end of the article you were currently writing, ignoring the worried stare from the other employees that were working on the same floor. Zestial was one of the overlords in hell and the owner of the newspaper agency you were working at, an extremely tall, thin and ancient demon that exuded a machiavellian charm, enticing yet dangerous. You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. You didn't remember doing anything wrong, or at least, nothing worth that would him getting personally involved.

When you finished the last sentence, you stood up and walked past Archie, who was still waiting nervously for an answer, his gaze fixated on you, a mixture of curiosity and horror on his face.

"Hey, aren't you even a little bit worried?", he called after you. You shrugged, and smiled.

"And what good will that do? If I'm in trouble, I can't change it now, can I?"

You walked through the hallway and knocked at the big, dark mahogany door. A deep, sonoric voice called out to you, and you opened the door. Zestial was sitting at his desk, his slender fingers intertwined on the tabletop, next to a steaming cup of tea.

"Ah, my dear. I wast awaiting thee. Cometh in and sitteth down."

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Zestial nodded, and smiled, gesturing at the chair in front of him.

"Ah, yes. Thy work has been quite outstanding for a while, mine lief. Thou hast impressed me greatly. Therefore, I have an offer."

Your smile widened, a little out of nervousness, but more out of curiosity. A job offer was the last thing you had expected from this meeting, based on Archibald's behavior and the fearsome looks of your coworkers. Zestial pushed the delicate cup in your direction.

"Drink, it'st not poisoned. It'st my own recipe."

"Thank you, sir."

You took the cup, careful not to spill the hot liquid, and sipped at it. The tea tasted unusual but delightful, earthy and tart and a little bitter. You couldn't quite identify the ingredients, but they had to be rare and expensive.

"A lovely blend, thank you."

"Thou art most welcome. So, my offer: One of mine aquaintances, Miss Rosie in Cannibal Town, hosts a party this evening. Sadly i wilt not beest able to attend... So i'd like for thee to go in mine stead."

Your eyebrows shot up. Not a job offer. This was a surprise, indeed. You had heard of Rosie and her own peculiar district. She was an overlord too, but in contrast to her peers she didn't show any desire to expand her territory, focusing instead on improving Cannibal Town as a community.

"I would be honored, Sir. What's the occasion for the party, if I may ask?"

"Ah, no occasion, really. Miss Rosie is just the kind to host parties whenever the fancy takes her. She'st a very charming woman, I am certain thou wilt enjoy thyself."

Zestial stood up and walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and smiling down at you, a genuine smile, that even reached his four green eyes. You smiled back, and set down the cup. It was apparent that your work somehow got you in good grace with Zestial, and you would've been a fool not to seize the day.

"Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir. I shall be sure to make the best of the occasion."

***

Stepping out of the taxi, you made sure not to step on the hem of your ankle-length red dress, clutching the small purse with your invitation and essentials in one hand and a gift for the hostess in the other, and stepped onto the pavement. All the windows of Rosie's emporium were lit, creating a warm atmosphere and luring guests into the center of the colony with a glowing, eery yellow vibrance. There was music in the air, and a sense of unusual merriness as guests talked and laughed, holding colorful drinks and glasses in their hands.

You made your way through the crowd towards the towering demoness, who was greeting oncoming guests left and right.

"Miss Rosie, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The woman turned, her lips pursed as her pitch-black eyes focused on the source of the sound, on you. Your smile didn't waver.

"Pleasure is all mine, sweetie. You're... Zestial's little newcomer, aren't you?"

You nodded with a grin that matched hers. "Indeed, Miss Rosie, that's me. It's an honor to be invited." You handed her your gift - an embellished, silver cookie tin with long, golden filled cookies inside. "I hope you don't mind homemade treats? I made them myself - they're called langue de chat."

"Cat's tongue. How fitting... ", she giggled, peeking inside. "Thank you my darling one, I'll be sure to hide them from all the hungry mouths here - wouldn't want to waste them, wouldn't we? Now please, hop right in, mingle a little and have some fun tonight. No work! And enjoy my little buffet, you'll surely find something to suit your diet."

Relieved from your official obligation, you snatched a glass of rose colored champagne as you decided to wander a bit without being seen and made yourself invisible. It was the newest of your powers you developed, and a most useful one for looking around and observing, very interested in the strange but not unfriendly atmosphere that lingered. An atmosphere that was so different from the district you had settled in - It seemed almost human. The cannibals were old-fashioned - you appreciated that- but they were friendly, courteous and downright delightful sinners to be around (if you were minful of their diet).

You watched the dancing couples, women twirling around in colorful dresses, the men accompanying them with fine suits, everyone adorned with flamboyant bow ties and flashy hats, wearing shiny leather shoes and polished heels. And that music, jazz at it's peak. Everyone was laughing, joking, the air was electric with happy chatter and jokes and it felt as if all your worries simply evaporated. It had to be, one of the most unique places you had been, in Hell.

You made yourself visible again, startling a group of young cannibals next to the buffet. With a giggle and a swish of your magenta-and-black striped tail, you set down your emptied glass on one of the silver trays. Turning back to look for another refreshment, your vision was blocked by a red pinstripe suit. A man had stepped in your path, a charming smile on his lips, and he seemed amused.

"Moving is a funny thing to do when no one's watching."

He offered you a glass of wine with the same burnt red color of his hair, his teeth glinting as his eyes scanned your body - not in a lewd way, but with bemused interest and impish curiosity. You chuckled, taking the glass with a head tilt.

"Why thank you, stranger, but you know, moving without being seen is just half the fun. Getting where you want without being noticed is the other."

You twirled the glass in between your fingers, sipping the expensive beverage, watching his expression with delight - how his grin widened, eyes locked to yours, amused and captivated by what you just said. Of course you knew who he was, your tail shivered and bushed up as you thought about it. Hell, you wrote more than one article about him.

One couldn't exist in hell without hearing the stories about the radio demon - the up and coming overlord, toppling long-established powerholders like dominoes and broadcasting their screams on every radio in the pride ring. Known for his gentlemanly manners, his brutal ruthlessness - and his never-fading, signature smile.

"Spoken like a true feline. The name's Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you.", he mused, and tilted his glass towards yours, awaiting you to clink it. His crimson eyes were shining like rubies, glinting dangerously yet so strangely intriguing as they watched your every reaction, and his lips curled up into a challenging, cocky grin as your glasses chimed together and you told him your name.

"Say, would you care for a little dance, dear? Your tail seems quite desperate for some frivolity, why it looks like it will come to life in a moment."

You glanced towards your backside, the traitorous appendage whipping completely out of control in anticipated excitement, the damned thing. You laughed, downing the rest of the drink, and made the tail disappear. Alastor rose a brow at your innocent expression.

“Seems like my tail has a full dance card. I, on the other hand, am quite free..."

His other eyebrow raised along the first one, and he chuckled ass he gave you a little bow, which he coupled with an outstretched, clawed hand.

"I can only hope you are able to compensate the loss - it looked quite eager."

The next thing you knew he had you on the dance floor, pulling you close to his body and guiding your steps, spinning you around with ease. One hand was around your waist, the other had a hold of one of yours. You quickly lost the feeling of time and space - all you were able to focus on was him.

"Your smile never falters, darling. I can't help but wonder why?"

You giggled, a gloved hand covering your mouth as he turned you, crimson glowing eyes never leaving yours.

"I don't know, really. My papan used to tell me that it was the only thing I had going for me, and it's what made silly soldiers so easy to kill."

You could feel the air around him tense and shift, his grin widening at your words as he turned you in again.

"Ah, a lady after my own heart. I can appreciate a woman who knows how to have fun."

You didn't say anything to his comment, just smiled, and he pulled you closer.

"Why don't we have a little fun of our own? I have the right mind for a little game, if you're up to it, darling?"

The music ended, everyone around you applauding but you were captured. Entranced. Frozen. By those eyes, this most unique and alluring voice. Oh, yes it was alluring. He was charming and intense, the mystery of this person was attracting you so hard, you could almost taste his taste, feel his touch.

The way he offered a game... he had the same dangerously mischievous expression you had, back when you planned what to do with your next victim. Only that you were absolutely sure, you were invited as a player, not as a pawn. And that made you burst with excitement, you hadn't felt such thrill and lust for a challenge in so long, you could almost physically feel your hunger taking hold of you, your craving for that sensation, for an opportunity to rise to this occasion.

***

The night was chilly, for hell's standards. You both had bid your farewells to Rosie, who in response only cocked an amused brow at Alastor and wished you both a fun rest of the night. After Alastor gallantly offered his arm, you had started walking, seemingly aimless, but you didn't mind. He proved to be a very pleasant conversation partner, and you soon found yourself very relaxed and amused around him.

You enjoyed listening to him, laughing in amusement about his animated gesticulation and his storytelling skills. And there was more, a tension, a strange attraction in the air, an electromagnetic current that almost hummed between you two. When he asked about your heritage, you were pleased to notice how enthralled he seemed that you were french in origin and the fact that you killed german soldiers during the still raging world war stirred up his sadistic and malicious sense of humor. When you explained to him how you met your end, a grin that could only be described as purely diabolic curled up on his lips.

"Why, you're my favorite type of femme diabolique, aren't you a scintillating creature?"

His ears flicked and he stopped in his tracks, grin widening as gestured for you to walk next to him into the shadows of an alley. Intrigued, you made yourself invisible and followed him, hearing faint voices as if in a fight.

"As exciting as I found our conversation to be, darling, the night is young - and I do owe you a little fun, wouldn't you agree?"

His voice sounded lower and remarkably more sinister, shoulders tense and almost trembling as he stalked forwards, pressing you into his side. "It seems we have found the finest opportunity. What luck he have."

The voices became eligible, and you instantly knew what he was talking about. Two shark sinners were standing in front of the back-entrance of some dubious bar, sharing a smoke. The fight seemed to be about a girl they intended to drug and take advantage of - both of them insisting to 'break her in' the first. Abominable scum. You felt your teeth itching to sink into their necks to break them.

"So, madame - two wasteful beings, two players. How would you like to set the rules for our game, hm?"

You shivered with delight. "Sometimes I find the most simple approach is the best, d'accord? You show me what you can do, I show you what I can. After they're dead, we vote who won best kill. If it's a draw, no one wins et la partie est perdue."

Alastor grinned wider and hummed, apparently delighted by your idea.

"An uncompromising game - I like the style, I say, game on! Now, for the winner's reward..."

"Une carte blanche? - but no souls, I'm afraid.", you grinned at him, slowly fading into nothing from the bottom to the top, until there were only your eyes and your smile left.

"Sounds fair enough, let the games begin, darling! I'll take the left one."

And with that, he melted into his own shadows, creeping up behind the left sinner who had just extinguished the cigarette to a tiny piece of tobacco butt on the floor. You followed him entranced, fully invisible now, and rounded the right one - he wasn't as fat and greasy as Alastor's victim, with droopy eyes and lanky legs - perfect for breaking.

"Fuck you, Ollie, I saw her first, so I get the first fuck, too."

With a last glance to the moving shadow you leaned into your prey.

"How about we make it a threesome, baby?"

The man spun around in a panicked startle, and you could smell the alcohol seeping out of his pores. He was intoxicated, and sloppy on his feet. Just how you liked it. His friend tried to say something in warning, but was quickly muffled by dark tendrils that shot out of the dark shade below him, binding his limbs and wrapping around his face.

"What the fuck... who are you, bitch?"

"Aw, come on chèrie, you don't need to know my name to have a great time. You don't even have to drug me first."

You shifted to become visible, the man's eyes bulging out of his skull as you did and took a tentative step towards him. His friend was screaming behind him, his arms and legs wrapped up in shadowy tentacles, the sound muffled and the tendrils slowly squeezing him, wringing him out like a moist rag. It was a truly bizarre and yet absolutely hypnotizing sight.

"Oh shit, Ollie... H-hey, listen, we didn't... uh, fuck, we can all just forget this and, and... fuck, get the hell out of here!"

You laughed, it echoed in the cold night, a sound so eerie that even the man before you shuddered, his eyes fixated on you as you advanced and circled him, claws dragging over his neck and shoulder, and a shiver went down your spine when you saw Alastor, emerging from the shadows, as fixed on you as your victim was, but with fascination and satisfaction rather than fear and panic.

"Oh no, cherie... let's make this a night to remember, oui?"

With that, you pushed the man forward, your tail wrapping around his ankle to swipe his leg off the ground. With a sickening crack he fell onto his back, a pained scream escaping his lips and rendered helpless as you pinned him down by kneeling right onto his crotch before he could even move. This bastard would never be able to use his dick on poor, unsuspecting women again. You let your head fall back into an unnatural angle, watching behind you to a still unmoving, enthralled Alastor.

"Are you just going to watch, cher? It's quite rude to stare at a lady like that."

For a split second, his grin faltered, before widening once more, a low chuckle resounding in his chest, a sound that made you shudder.

"Why, my dear, how could I not, when you're making such a captivating sight."

His words spurred you on and stretched your smile so wide it started to hurt, your body hot and eager - you wanted to impress him, make him crave more of this. More of you. You shifted, turning your head back, and reached a clawed hand onto the man's throat. You concentrated on the feeling of your claws against his grayish, leathery skin as he choked.

"Let's make it a real party, then."

You willed magenta glowing mirror images of your claws into existence, envisioned them scratching and slicing the sinners body into long, thin ribbons - his screams told you it was working. He was cut up alive, his thrashing restrained by a few of the many hands you conjured. They lifted his mangled body up, it looked almost like a bastardized version of a crucifixion, and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Cela ne fera que très mal."

You've only ever let your full demon form come out once - right after you fell and were attacked by other newcomers. It still felt new, almost untamable, but you were desperate to show him. For Alastor to see you, not as a damsel in distress, or some silly girl playing checkers where others played chess. So you let it take over, your form growing longer, your skin becoming black fur with glowing pink streaks, claws sharpening, and your maw growing. Your victim was still howling and fighting the hands holding him, his blood dripping onto the street and mixing with the puddles on the concrete. He screamed in terror as your jaws opened and you bit into his throat, ripping him to shreds with your sharp teeth, his intestines sloshing onto the pavement and the smell of blood filling the air and the sweet and bitter iron taste ran down your throat.

And just like that, the last remains of his body hit the floor with a mundane, squelching noise. The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't hear anything, except for the rapid beating of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Then, you heard clapping, slow and rhythmical. You turned your head to see Alastor standing, the other sinner still bound, his face twisted in agony and his eyes bulging out of his eye holes.

"My my, a breathtakingly gruesome display, my dear. Truly enticing!"

He walked towards you, the shadows dissolving as he came closer, the tentacles retreating and the man falling onto the pavement. You watched him with a manic expression, your smile still on your face as your demonic form receded and you could feel the coolness of your victims blood on your fangs as a gust of wind blew through the alley, ruffling your hair.

"Now, for my own part... I have to admit, yours is a little hard to follow, but, oh well."

He snapped his fingers and his shadow stretched out behind him, towering above him with its head bowed, and you saw his eyes glow and transform into dials as a green glow and strange symbols surrounded the sinner's body, his limbs bending and his joints cracking, the sound of snapping bones and gurgling blood filling the alley, as the shadow slowly pulled the man's insides out through his mouth and ripped his head from his neck. It fell onto the concrete, and rolled right into your direction. You watched the eyes of the severed head turn gray, and smiled.

"Very impressive, cher. A true work of art, no?"

"Thank you, darling, I appreciate the compliment."

With another snap of his fingers the gore was gone, the streets cleaned and the corpses - or rather, what had been left of them - vanished, leaving no evidence behind. He turned to face you, the shadow retreating behind him as his dial eyes vanished and returned to their normal, intense red ones, an inquisitive grin plastered on his face as he came to a stop just before you.

"Now, there's only one thing left to do - the determination of the winner."

You laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't care less who won. Alastor's eyes darted downwards, to your lips, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, the urge to bite your lower lip growing.

"I'd say we're both winners, but rules are rules."

"I fear so, darling."

There was a pause, neither of you said a word. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and brushed his fingers over your bloodied cheek. You closed your eyes, your breath catching as his claws traced the outlines of your lips. The moment was charged and electrifying, you didn't want to say anything and maybe break the spell. He laughed, low and sweet, leaning into you.

"I think I'm inclined to give my vote to you, darling. Do I have a choice, really?"

Before you could respond, your words were stolen from your lips as they met his, crashing together in a passionate, heated, long overdue kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you and pressing you into his body with ease and your tail curved behind you, happy to know your feelings were mutual as his long claws buried themselves in you blood-stained hair. You sighed against his lips, your own hands clutching to his neck and shoulders, a feeling you couldn't describe in your stomach.

For the first time in forever, you were kissed without it being because you were just pretty, or just a girl, perceived as a weak thing to be taken advantage of. This kiss was because you were powerful, you were impressive, because you were something of an equal in his own image - and if the world wouldn't stop here, if it went on forever and on and if time itself would cease to exist, this kind of passion would not.

A purr escaped your throat as his tongue danced with yours, tasting you - the sweet yet bittersweet, almost metallic taste of blood - yours, the sinners, you didn't care. You'd die all over again, a thousand times more painful than the original time, just for another second of this bloody kiss.

All too soon, it ended and his mouth left yours, making you feel the strange warmth radiating from his skin as he pressed a light peck on your parted lips, brushing his fingertips over your soft skin, red-stained and glowing. You panted, opening your eyes, and your own magenta irises met his, staring deep into them.

"It's a draw, then.", you said, the corners of your mouth tugging up to a smirk as you gave your vote to him unspoken.

"Which means the game is lost.", he answered, and you laughed, knowing you'd never been happier to lose at anything ever, and with a smile your lips chased after his once again.

"Hmmm... with a reward like this, I suppose a victory wouldn't be near as satisfying, anyway." He chuckled into the kiss. "And there's always a next time, right, darling?"

Translations: et la partie est perdue - And the game is lost Cela ne fera que très mal - This will only hurt a lot

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 770: Response

Pag 1

1: Don't give up yet!!

Let's chase Sohoku and Hakogaku who are ahead of us!!

Yeah!!

2: It's not “two people” that caught up

3: Who is it

I've never seen that jersey before

There's one more person!!

4: He easily keeps up with us at this speed!!

Pag 2

1: From now on I'll use my legs

By brute force

Pag 3

1: Waaaa

The lead if here!

It's three people – do your beest!!

I'll defeat you!!

2: Chicken!!

Buooooo

3: One

4: two

Pag 4

1: Go!!

3: Uoooooo

Pag 5

1: He passed me so easily!?

2: “?ill use my legs”....!? I've been pedaling almost at my limit, and yet in one breath, he-!?

Garua-

3: Don't underestimate Hakogaku's “third years”

4: Sohoku's....

Pag 6

1: second year boy!!

2: He left me behind in a second!!

3: Dammit

4: Dammit

and then keep going like that and escape!!

5: Get it together!!

Pag 7

3: Issa is next to me!!

Sorry, I couldn't escape

4: But I'll catch up to him somehow, I'll recover from here.....

What power....

6: I'm sorry, Issa!!

Pag 8

1: What speed....!!

Pag 9

1: He's smiling!?

2: That guy's.... so fast...

He's strong....

3: He really is fired up to get revenge for last year!!

4: This is bad, Danchiku!!

5: No wait, Issa, if yous ay it like that it seems that you're the one who won last year....

6: Are you excited!? Issa

7: Ahh, I wanted to let Danchiku escape, but when I see him running.... ahgh!!

Issa

Pag 10

1: Can I go, Danchiku!? To defeat that guy!!

2: Issa's

3: feelings' boiling point

Pag 11

1: is rising all at once!!

2: He's focused on just that one thing in front of his eyes!!

3: He's holding the handles low and took a crouching stance!!

4: Ohhhhh

In times like this....

Pag 12

1: Of course you can, Issa!!

Ho-

Pag 13

1: uruaaaagh

2: In times like this I have to push his back without hesitating even for a second

That's

4: That's my duty!!

Go, Issa, to your heart's content!!

Pag 14

1: Hooo

2: oooo

3: raaaagh

Pag 15

1: I'm going, Danchiku!!

3: What's this explosive sound!?

4: It's getting closer....!?

Pag 16

1: I'm here, San-na!! In response to your fired up soul!!

Pag 17

1: So you came!! Orange!!

2: Wasn't I supposed to race against that Danchiku guy? For Sohoku

3: It changed now!! That plan!!

4: Buah!! Seems like it was already decided that I'd fight you!!

Orange!!

5: That's what the cells in my body are telling me!! That there's no enemy other than you!!

Pag 18

1: It's been a year!!

Have you gained enough experience!?

2: It's already more than enough!!

5: Those two's wave of fighting pressure has reached until here!!

6: What terrific pressure!! It could raise so much? The heat of the Inter High!!

7: They're passing the....

Pag 19

1: 3km mark until the finish line!!

2: Hooooo

3: Buoooo

4: This is the fight's

5: Hahaha

Pag 20

1: gong!!

[temporary-tats]

fav recent fics you've read?

I'll have to update my fic rec list soon, as I've got a lot of great new ones I've read, but here are some of my absolute favorites from my recent reads!

(All hyperlinked cause I'm not a monster)

Completed Fics: "The Queens of Remnant" by Mikotyzini - 312k words, 48 chapters. Normally, I am not a fan of WhiteRose as a main ship in a fic (I don't mind it as much as a background ship, I'm just a aro/ace Ruby truther), but this dual Bumbleby and WhiteRose fic was fucking FANTASTIC. It's a Fantasy/Royal AU and it is most definitely deserving of your time.

"plant a love, put it on a windowsill" by sevensevan - 11k words, 2 chapters. Takes place between volumes 8 and 9 - Yang falls into the void and is spat out into her own future. The bees are breaking my fucking heart in this one and it's so good.

"still need your teeth round my organs" by sevensevan - 55k words, 9 chapters. This one's an interesting one - a Bumbleby Twilight AU. Now, hear me out, it's like the best and coolest parts of Twilight without all the cringe, and it's so fucking good. Read it. Please god. (Also, Transfem Yang!)

"Fractured Ribs and Horsehair" by Spinedog - 178k words, 28 chapters. LISTEN. LISTEN TO ME. If you even REMOTELY like Beehaw - read this. Read this and cry, then read it again. It's healing, it's love, it's so fucking amazing. Read it.

In-Progress Fics:

"you know for me, it's always you (and i know for you, it's always me)" by evesarkisian - If you like Spider-Man, particularly the movie franchises, and you like the bees, you go and read this right now. The second chapter just released recently, but these chapters are BEEFY. There's so much to get into and it is SO GOOD. Spider-Man Angst meets Blake Belladonna Angst and forms a masterpiece.

"You're a Hot Mess (And I'm Falling For You)" by Kaelidascope - These bees are fucking TOXIC and OOC, but if you like soap-opera level drama of a plethora of idiot twenty-somethings and can handle the OOC, it's absolutely delicious.

"Beauty and the Beest" by Kaelidascope - This one's a rework and rewrite, though there's also the original version up on their page to read! Very interesting concept and plot so far (plus, a tasty helping of art) -definitely recommend, though it gets into monster-fucking at some point, so perhaps not your cup of tea!

"Concrete Trail" by Spinedog - Zombie Apocalypse bees! This one's very tense and angsty, but it's been SO good so far. The baddies list also extends further than Adam in this one, so there's bound to be lots of trouble!

"INFECTED" by Kaelidascope - More Zombie Apocalypse bees, but with a little twist! Again, tense and angsty, but with the vibe of a 2010s zombie movie. It is very, very good so far and definitely worth jumping into!

[2n2n]

ch 122

our poor heroine.... our sweet Nene-chan.... shed of the dead weight of the rest of that cast--!

you all entertained me, getting bonked & splatted into dirty water, but it's time for beautiful things, now!!!

makes me feel sick to my stomach and kind of dizzy... nnnnnnrrrruh.. rrrrhhouuhhh. I love Aida-sensei's ornate art... I like the blips of dripping fluid from vials surrounding Yugi-sensei, reminding us of the water of the well simultaneously. This gold & cold blue, the eyes of the beest striking red into the composition here, while the leaves of the camellia strike the blue-green coolness there... but more than anything, it makes me really miss my boy, in his handsome, heroic cape... with his stained glass windows...

beautiful beautiful

our poor girl... she's not hard-hearted & diligent... fearful thing. She doesn't do well all alone... she needs help, guidance, saving...

folded up & sobbing... hair a mess... so cute!!! really cute pose, arms wrapping around her ankles, hair tucking around her arms. And uhmm I love every panel of Amane looking like a scary monster hehehehe. Maybe we can judge Tsukasa a little less, huh?

I will hand it to Tsuchigomori, it's a kind offer... as a teen who would stay at school as long as possible to avoid my situations at home, what a blessing this would have been to me. I was lucky for a single teacher who would allow me to stay until around 7 or so. I would have stayed all night if I could have, haaah. Tsuchigomori has no life, so it's the least he can do...

I like our girl's blank, glassy-eyed stare.... ahh when I'm in a similar paranoid state, I feel about this empty-eyed.... it feels like pupils lose their ability to point. fixed in the center....

dead as all hell ♥ I like this brief moment, of trying to wrestle personhood from Amane... refuse, reject. Defensively.

it hurts too painfully to connect it, right? You want it to be nothing but an enemy, a monster tormenting you, playing a trick...

... and the dose of reality immediately after. You can't reject Yugi-sensei. He isn't foreign to you... he isn't an Other, unfamiliar entity. I always like when Nene-chan helps point readers away from black/white absolutes or easy refusals of certain aspects...

but I'd also like to say, I really love this trait in Amane, and I want to talk about that a little...

sometimes... I see Amane characterized by others as... I don't know... committed & passionate about his astronomy interest, diligent... some sort of genius lol....

but I think it's incredibly important that Amane could never become an astronaut, or anything too lofty. Because I don't think Amane really has 'that deep' of an interest in these things. It isn't all-consuming, it isn't really his dream, his life, his reason to go on. There's at times, a little too much romanticism placed on Amane & his hobbies... I honestly-- personally-- can't even call it a "special interest". I think this guy is honestly a little more normal than that (as Iro-sensei would say, 'normal Amane is useless as normal').

After all, when Tsuchigomori asks the student Amane what his favorite class is, he says "P.E.". Not science! Amane liked to run! He liked to goof off! He liked to mess around! He's not really focused at all! Frankly I think he can even get bored in science class, HAHA.

I like that even as an adult, as a teaaacher, he doesn't take anything as seriously or have the focus to be all-in on aaaanything. He's capricious and lacking wherewithal or maturity to be wholly responsible... he's not a man who can build a prestigious career, haha. Can't be bothered to!! Ughhh boring. I like that! I like that he's kind of shabby and scatterbrained. He likes a bunch of things a little, only enough to cobble together a modest life... not enough to be anything impressive, haha.

I think of Amane's real 'passion' always being his beloved(s)... everything else, is kind of a distraction or flippant curiosity, easy to pick up and put down, get distracted from. It's fun to learn, to memorize some facts. But God is it not stimulating enough to keep him going... gotta entertain himself with nonsense... that's how Amane is.

a lot of that astronomy nonsense only becomes poetically symbolic for the very people he is in love with. The moon & Antares are more than what they literally are ... what they literally are is shallower. I don't imagine true veneration of celestial bodies in Amane's heart.

I love this sentiment, as a result...

that is your boy..

I wonder how we should reflect on Tsukasa, and what it feels like to be Amane in our usual timeline? What does it mean to become merged with a kaii, or a kami? What of the original self remains? How do we grieve or accept or help what is left behind? Write that down in your copybooks...

heehoo peanut