#: visage ( images in the looking glass )

[emblazons]

"there's more to life than stupid boys, you know."

STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGES S03E02 - The Mall Rats

[kirschteinoir]

twelve minutes.

zayne (love&deepspace) x reader.

❝ seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn't be this attractive... ❞

zayne is uncharacteristically late and you're not pleased, but the reason why definitely makes up for it.

wc; 1.8k

[zayne forehead zayne forehead zayne forehead...inspired by this gorgeous art by sesamefruit on twt / X!!! i haven't stopped thinking about it since i saw it like UGH HE LOOKS SO SCRUMPTIOUS!!! implied suggestive stuff towards the end bc i couldn't help myself so 17+ please! ]

he was late.

zayne was never late. in fact a small but prominent part of his personality was that he was always on time - something he was so fond of reminding you about every time you happened to arrive a minute or two after him to your scheduled date. you sort of understood him though; his job was a harsh reminder that time waits for no one, especially a cardiac surgeon hours into a surgery with a life on the line.

your eyes dart to the giant clock ticking warily above you in the ballroom, its ornate hands and roman numerals mocking you as you stood in the corner with half a glass of champagne in your hand.

it had occurred to you to perhaps text him, although you pulled a face at the thought of being too clingy or rushing him. you trusted zayne and you knew he wouldn't be late without a good reason - you just hoped that he knew what he was doing by showing up almost fifteen minutes after your agreed meet time.

tonight was a charity gala, or something like that, hosted by akso hospital to raise funds for various wards, ones you hadn't even heard of before. the bulk of the guestlist included important patrons of the hospital who most likely had relatives in akso’s care, all of the most significant hospital staff and whoever they brought as a plus one - which is the category you and zayne fall into, respectively.

despite being a guest on zayne’s behalf, the two of you had arrived in separate cars. this was not something you had initially agreed to as the image of showing up on zayne’s arm with both of you dressed to the nines had been all too alluring and a small, smug part of you had wanted to show him off to everyone in attendance. but as always, zayne's work had shattered your grandiose dream and thus he couldn't make it on time to pick you up; he'd paid for your taxi to the venue though, and tracked your location on an app to make sure you arrived safely.

apart from a sending you a happy snowman emote at your arrival to the gala's location, he hadn’t given you any indication of when he would show up. you think back to his text from earlier this afternoon, scrunching your nose slightly as you recall how he'd said that he would definitely be there in time for dessert - his attempt at humour, you supposed.

so here you are, waiting nervously amongst the growing crowd with a watchful eye on the entrance. many of zayne’s colleagues had already arrived and greeted you with a sympathetic look as they knew all too well how busy the schedule of the cardiac surgeon could be. you took their pitiful gazes in your stride, assuring them with an easy-going laugh that he would be here soon. you hoped you sounded more convinced than you felt as an ugly apprehension gnawed at your stomach at the thought of zayne standing you up tonight.

oh well, at least you looked good.

throwing caution to the wind you swallow the last of your champagne with a slight pained expression and discreetly whip out your phone. your fingers find his contact reflexively and are about to hit the 'call' button when suddenly a hushed whisper sweeps through the room like a blizzard and your curiosity is piqued for a moment. the only thing that stops you from going through with the call is the sound of zayne's name rippling through the crowd and then the placid lilt of his voice that you knew so well.

zayne was finally here!

_

an hour or so ago, zayne had been stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his usually composed visage marred by a troubled expression. remnants of his steamy shower clouds the glass and his deep sigh adds to the frostiness as he continues to stare at himself in discontent.

he was already dressed for the evening, his shirt sleeves cuffed and tie clipped, but had yet to style his hair. usually, it would be the easiest part of his routine as he doesn't stray much from his signature windswept fringe. something was different today though and maybe out of the sudden urge to surprise you, he itched for something new. he was nervous as he weighed out the potential cons - what if it didn't suit him? what if you didn’t like it? what if he stuck out too much? was a fancy gala really the best time and place to experiment with his appearance?

as much as he was nervous, he was also tired of looking the same every time you saw him. well, except for when he was fresh out the shower and his hair was damp, but it was still relatively similar to his daytime look...

zayne looks at the short video tutorial on his phone again, replaying it a second time for good measure. the tub of gel was as daunting as his surgical scalpels as he carefully unscrewed the lid. he pauses the video on a particular shot of the final styled product, tentative fingers dipping into the cool gel.

he ended up leaving the house twelve whole minutes later than he had expected and his slight rushing had caused a few strands to break free from their gelled confines already - he thought it would at least hold until the first course of the evening. he was late enough as it was and didn't want to push it by continuing to style it in his parked car, knowing that you were probably growing restless as you waited for him inside.

_

you peer through the crowd that seems to have coagulated at the entrance of the grand hall, wishing you were just that bit taller so you could catch zayne’s eye and let him know where you were.

“excuse me,” you mumble to no one in particular as you push through, side-stepping and shimmying your way to your date. a few of them grumble at your forcefulness and you mentally apologise, only thinking of zayne at the moment.

“has anyone seen- ah, never mind.”

you hear zayne approach before you see him, the timbre of his voice suddenly swirling in a comforting embrace around your ears.

the first thing you're met with is his expensive suit, the woven navy fibres filling your field of vision. you stumble back a little, afraid of bumping into him, and take in his appearance properly. he was wearing a classic three-piece, navy with a black waistcoat, and you remember that you picked it out for him on your last shopping date. at the time he had seemed indifferent to your choices, but your cheeks suddenly feel warm as you realise right there and then how much zayne really likes you.

“zayne, there you are! i-“ you begin, looking up at him with a smile.

expecting to see pear green eyes hidden by a gauze of black fringe, you're shocked when instead those same eyes are crystalline and unobstructed as they regard you with an amused expression, perfectly poised underneath an arched black eyebrow.

the soft skin of his forehead, which you had often traversed with your fingertips on countless sleepy nights, was now exposed to the warm glow of the ballroom. his fringe, which so often tickled your cheek as he burrowed into the crook of your neck, exhausted after an overnight surgery, was gelled neatly back. some rogue strands still burst forward, daring to defy zayne's signature put-togetherness, but even they looked purposefully rogue and elegantly styled to suit his new look.

you could do nothing more than gape at him dumbly as he became increasingly concerned at your lack of response. he'd been fraught with worry about your reaction to his tardiness, expecting to get chewed out for being so ungentlemanly as to leave you standing alone in a room full of his colleagues that you hardly knew. but he surmises quickly that it was all worth it as he takes in your dumbfounded expression; he has to hold back a chuckle at the way you not so subtly check him out. however you aren’t the only one who’s doing so in the room, and he softly clears his throat to bring you away from your thoughts for a moment.

“here i am,” he says smoothly, taking another step forward. he offers his arm to you, his ears tinting that pretty shade of crimson that you loved so much as he finally cracks under the scrutiny of everyone else in the room.

“let’s find some privacy, my dear.”

dazed, you just nod as zayne leads you away from the crowd. it disperses soon after anyway, although everyone is now whispering about that cardiac surgeon and zayne's popularity seems to grow just that little bit more.

he takes the two of you to a more secluded part of the room, exhaling softly when you're finally by yourselves. he's almost disappointed by your silence at his new look and he no longer has his fringe to hide behind as his eyebrows knit together slightly.

“you haven’t spoken a word since you saw me,” he comments, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek. he almost gasps in shock as your hand stops his, gripping his wrist gently. “what’s wro-“

his voice trails off as he notices the change in your expression, one he recognises all too well from the privacy of your bedroom. his own ears colour more and he peers down at you in confusion.

“seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn’t be this attractive,” you finally murmur, unable to stop staring at zayne.

he clears his throat again at your words, looking around you briefly to make sure no one was listening in.

“i take it you’re fond of my new look?” he asks, hopeful undertones betraying his casual question.

he was so cute, you wanted to squeeze him.

you smile, a mischievous glint in your eye as you suddenly grab him by the tie with your other hand, tugging his face down to hover inches in front of yours. his eyes widen almost comically, his vulnerable expression fully exposed to your devilish eyes.

“i can show you exactly how fond, my love. it doesn't hurt to have dessert first tonight, right?”

as a bashful zayne crowds your giddy self into the empty bathroom stall and locks the door behind him with unusually shaky hands, he thanks astra for those extra twelve minutes he spent in front of the bathroom mirror today.

about me. 

[yaekiss]

crawling like a zombie out of a grave with heavy brainROT thinking of that vampire bat thing… i KNOW that freak of a man childe would absolutely be into that, even biting his lips to add on more blood and get you hooked on and used to his instead of some lousy human… but also thing of cuties like kaveh who shiver at the taste, and you’re sure he’d be blushing if he could, whimpers flowing out from his lips so easily. a high class diluc having a glass pressed against his lips held from you, filled with exquisite blood that fills his mouth before you kiss him filthily, knowing full well how he loves how perverted it makes him feel, how his hands shake and grip tightens on you with every swirl of your tongue against his.

𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Sub! Tartaglia, Sub! Kaveh, Sub! Diluc (separate), no gendered terms for reader, vampire! AU, blood and biting, mentions of violence in Tartaglia's part, lightly implied top!reader in Kaveh's part, footjob and cumming in pants in Diluc's part, lmk if I missed anything! ꩜ A/N: I didn't mean for this to get so long... pulpie what did u do to me...... 2.2k of vampire brainrot orz,,, anyways hope you enjoy the difference in dynamics !! PLEASE FILL IN THE FORM HERE AFTER READING THANK YOU!!!!

🏷️𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝟎𝟕𝟐𝟎: 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒂 ꒷꒦ Vampire!Reader x Human!Tartaglia ꒦꒷

Someone as battle-hungry as Childe never backs down from a challenge, even if it means trying to tame a literal creature of the night. (Although, reading through countless dusty tomes regarding vampire courtship isn’t really part of the taming process.)

A plus side to having a bloodthirsty harbinger as your partner is that you haven’t known hunger ever since he started trying to woo you! Dragging to you the, still warm, bodies of enemies he had to dispose of with a cheery grin, he watches, enraptured, as you partake in the meal he so graciously gifts you.

His eyes are trained on your form as you lap up the blood from the existing wounds he inflicted on the body during the fight, coating your lips in a sickening glisten. Childe squirms in his place, feeling a heat rising within. Tearing his gaze away from you, he looks down.

Fuck. He’s hard.

Shakily, he palms himself through his pants, looking for some relief. He tries to muffle his moans but he’s never really known to be quiet. His mind fills itself with images of you, appetite voracious as you drink from the body, bloodied fangs piercing through skin, and before it even registers, he’s whining for you.

Your shoes come into view and as he looks back up, he knows he’s been caught.

“Help me, please?” At that moment, Childe sounds too delectable, and coupled with the pleading way he’s looking at you, it seems that you crave something other than blood tonight too.

Your hands move to grab at his jawline, the sudden chill of your fingers against his skin makes his breath hitch and the way your sharpened nails graze him makes him all the more harder. Childe keens when your lips smash onto his, parting his mouth as you deepen the kiss, making him taste the lingering metallic tang of blood. 

His brain is a traitorous thing when it inserts himself into the place of the body. The visage of your arms cradling him as your fangs trace over the exposed skin of his neck, teasing before they sink in, when he could be all you think of, the visage burns behind his eyelids. Pulling away to allow Childe to catch his breath, his mind betrays him a third time when he doesn’t think and bites down hard on his own bottom lip before he captures yours again.

Instantly, his taste fills your mouth. It’s not often you manage to savour the blood of someone touched by the abyss. The flavour is intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more. As if by instinct, your hand supports the back of his head and he moans into your mouth as you kiss harder. 

Childe doesn’t know if he’s spurred on by the fact that you’re so taken by the taste of him other than that other lousy human or if it’s the hunger shining in your eyes. There’s a part of him that sings when the thought registers. The thought that he, his blood, has such an effect on you, amplifying your bloodlust a hundredfold, that he is addictive to you. That you want him.

Moving forward, he doesn’t bring you any more bodies. Instead, he just brings himself, and hopefully, he’d get a little lucky too.

Childe never backed down from a challenge, even if it meant being tamed by a literal creature of the night ♡

🏷️𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝟎𝟕𝟎𝟗: 𝑲𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒉 ꒷꒦ Vampire!Reader x Vampire!Kaveh ꒦꒷

A vampire Kaveh would be… a little pitiful. The thought of harming someone else goes against everything he stands for, let alone drinking someone else’s blood (even if the blood was obtained through honest, human-vampire-law-abiding, means.)

He resorts to drinking animal blood instead. It’s not the most satiating or nourishing but it’ll have to do. At least he doesn’t have to imagine a human face with a family tied to the bloody beverage he’s gulping down. However, it leaves him weak and prone to feeling faint at the most inopportune of times.

Times such as now, when Kaveh can’t find his keys again and he’s locked out of Alhaitham’s house and he desperately needs to drink but his blood stash is in the house and he can’t find Alhaitham anywhere. It’s not hard to see that your poor fellow vampire is spiralling when you open the door to your home that he’s been frantically pounding on.

You lead him inside, carefully setting him down on the couch since he was dangerously swaying back and forth while he walked. Kaveh and you go way back, so it’s not surprising that he seeks you out when he’s in need. You’re just so understanding, nothing like Alhaitham, and you’ve always looked out for him unceasingly all this time. His eyes catch how your hand is still supporting his arm from earlier and if his heart could beat, it would be fluttering right now.

“How long has it been since your last meal?” Shit, you’re grilling him and he’ll be dead twice over if you find out he hasn’t exactly been taking care of himself. He deflates pathetically in his seat before he mutters out his answer.

“A week and a half… maybe two…” His answer trails off and he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes. He quickly tacks on an explanation for good measure when the silence drags on for too long and he can feel himself being simmered alive (undead?) in your gaze.

“M-my commissions haven’t been coming in and- and money is a little tight-” he sighs, “-before I even realised it, the amount of blood I have left was already running low…”

Your hand leaves his arm and the action has his head snapping back to look at you. He feels you rise from your seat next to him on the sofa and alarms blare in his mind. Did he say something wrong? He knows he should look after himself more, fuck, you don’t hate him now, right? He’s brought out of his thoughts when you push a cup into his twiddling hands.

“Drink up.” Kaveh looks up at you, expecting to see a disapproving frown. However, when all he can see is worry and concern on your face, he’s a little caught off guard.

“But isn’t it… human blood?” He’s sheepish when he asks this, brows knitted together.

“I’m sorry, but it’s all I have currently and you look like you’d faint if you don’t get something in your system right now.”

Even so, he doesn't budge, just holding the cup in his hands. Usually, the scent alone is enough to send hungry vampires into a frenzy. Judging by how hard he’s clenching it and how he’s definitely starving by now, you can tell he’s holding himself back. You don’t want to risk anything bad happening to Kaveh if you go out to buy a bag of animal blood right now so you press on.

“Is there any way I can convince you to drink it?”

Maybe it’s the spiralling state of mind he has, or the loopiness from the hunger, or that determined gleam you have in your eyes, but something weakens inside of him as he blurts out.

“Can you feed it to me? I don’ wanna think ‘bout who the blood came fr’m.”

His vision spins as you gently take the cup out of his hands. Why is the room spinning? Why are you getting closer?? 

Your lips meet his and suddenly his slurred words click in his mind. Eyes widening, he looks at you but he makes no move to push you away. He just leans into your touch when your hands cup his cheeks and as you part his lips, the taste of the blood hits him.

It’s been ages since he’s savoured this flavour, and with you kissing him too? He can’t stop a shiver from rocking through his body when your tongue enters his mouth, pressing his thighs together as he lets out a loud whimper. Your hand cards through his hair, messing up the blonde locks but he can’t find it in himself to complain, not when he’s practically melting in your arms. Now, it’s become less of trying to feed Kaveh before he dies, and more of making out with the closest companion you’ve loved all this time.

Filthy whines escape him as the initial exquisite flavour of blood mellows out, giving way to the taste of you. Did his fang accidentally pierce your tongue? He doesn’t have the power to think about it when all he can comprehend is you, the taste of your blood, the touch of your skin, your tongue down his throat. You override his every thought and he’s left craving. 

The intimate moment lasts for a bit more before you break apart. (To Kaveh, it felt like something between a split-second and his ever-eternal lifespan.) 

He’s still a little shaky, it’s obvious that that little mouthful of blood isn’t enough nourishment for him.

“Will you drink if you can only think of me while you do?”

Kaveh leaves your home glowing the next day. (He’s limping too but let’s not talk about that.)

🏷️𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝟎𝟒𝟑𝟎: 𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄 𝑹. ꒷꒦ Human!Reader x Vampire!Diluc ꒦꒷

It’s awfully gratifying to have the Diluc Ragnvindr, a noble of high vampire society, knelt at your feet, his hands held behind his back. You don't even need to bind his hands. Frankly, it wouldn't really do anything because of his supernatural strength. But, oh. There's something so delicious about him willing to keep his hands behind him just because you asked. The way you have him utterly wrapped around your finger... tantalising. 

You hold the wineglass of your blood above him and he instinctively shuffles in closer, a low whine leaving him before he even realises. As you tilt the cup towards him, his plush lips close on the rim, fervently lapping up what he can. He's terribly messy though. Tsk, and to think he's supposed to be high class.

The frenzied way he's drinking up your oblation, watching the crimson trickle past his lips, staining his pale skin such a dazzling red as it drips further down to his bobbing throat, he really is mesmerising. And what’s this? 

Your dear Diluc is rutting against your shoe, trying to get off while you’re so graciously feeding him. Greedy.

He’s panting in between gulps, his eyes unfocused as the lust building in him drives him mad. There’s a conscious part of his brain saying that he shouldn’t be trying to cum right now, you’re being so nice to him, but fuck, it feels sosososo good!

You think he’ll forgive you when you cruelly pull the cup away from him.

Immediately, a pitched whine rips from his throat, and he chases after your blood, eyes begging for you to return his sweet salvation. But Diluc thinks otherwise about opening his mouth to try to reason with you when he feels your foot against his crotch.

“I’ll let you drink again after you cum, hmm? It’s not good to be distracted while you eat.” 

His brain kicks into overdrive when the tip of your shoes presses down onto his dick, the pain bleeding into sinful pleasure. Diluc lets out a sharp hiss as you move your foot, teasing his length that’s straining behind his pants. He’s grinding his hard cock against the bottom of your shoe, the darkened patch of fabric growing and lewd moans slipping from his lips as he does so.

You can tell when he’s about to cum, his eyes are screwed shut and his moans become louder and more clipped, focusing more on the tempting heat rather than getting proper words out. Quickly, you take a mouthful of blood before you lean in and pull him in by the collar of his shirt.

The kiss is nothing shy of filthy, smearing blood on your lips and cheeks as he drinks desperately. He’s addicted to the heat of your mouth, your blood, on his skin, and the ravenous way you’re kissing him makes him feel like he’s the one being devoured instead. His neck is straining from being tilted upwards but there’s no other way he’d have you, as if it was only natural to have a powerful being like him on his knees at your side.

A hard press against the tip of his cock is what sends him off the edge. Cumming with a shout, he leans into your kiss, the hands he held behind his back all this time shooting forward to grasp at your thighs. Diluc shakes as he rides out his orgasm, groaning every time he ruts against your shoe.

Pulling away from him, his tongue lolls out of his mouth with a dazed expression on his face, as if he’s been fucked dumb. You drink in his appearance. He’s dishevelled, his usual tidy ponytail all tangled and messy, a wet patch at the front of his pants where he came in his pants. Diluc suppresses a shiver when he notices the swirling hunger in the gaze you regard him with, the roles of vampire and human so easily reversed and perverted by you.

Your lips shine with a saccharine sheen under the dim lighting as they part to ask him.

“And what do you say, Diluc?”

“Thank you.”

 It's safe to say that, unlike Diluc, your hunger isn't getting abated anytime soon.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

Also, please consider helping to fill in this quick form for an upcoming event, thank you!!

[tojiwrd]

2: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

warnings swearing, gojo emotional constipation, lots of crying, mourning, death

word count 2k

a/n part 2 so we can feel smt

send requests ↞ prev next ↠ to be added to taglist

You took a breath—a long and deep one that filled nearly every corner of your shaking body—as you raised your foot to lightly push against Satoru’s shin and send him stumbling back. If you were to keep this tapestry of being healed up for him to see, him being a hair’s breadth away from you would make it extremely difficult.

“I don’t wanna talk about anything, Gojo.” You paused, teeth fiddling with your lip before you looked up to meet his gaze that was steadfast and focused directly on you. “We broke up and you got married, remember?”

His jaw clenched like a person who was in a play and the character in the scene messed up their dialogue and now he had to improvise. In fact, that was surely what happened. 

“I know—fuck, I know. I was there.”

“Good, then that means we’re on the same page.”

This was the part where you grabbed your phone from the glass table beside you and walked past him to go to your room. And your body was itching in every part, waiting for you to do so, but your feet remained stationary on the ground. You were strong and you could walk away from Satoru, walk away from him like he did you. But a part of you was curious in a way you couldn’t explain. In your mind, there truly was nothing to explain on Satoru’s end except he was being a major asshole and messed up real bad. Still, the questions you’d thrown away out of nothing but embarrassment when you called him and Hana picked up lingered on your tongue once again. 

Nothing was said, though, and the pale moonlight coating both your figures remained the only source to prove you and him were there. Together. Alone. After so long. You reached down to grab your phone in an attempt to do exactly what you should’ve done minutes ago.

Satoru, sensing that his time was running out, reached out to you, almost encasing your arms with his fingers before he pulled back. “Listen, Y/N. I just don’t want you to hate me.” Your lips parted in shock at his words, rendering you completely and utterly speechless once again. “You were the first person who—” He paused, closing his eyes as he threw his head back in frustration. “You were the first person who loved me and I can’t go on knowing that you hate me.” There was a gleaming twinkle in his eyes as he reminded you of what you both once were, of what could’ve done.

The words flew out of your mouth quickly. “Satoru, what’s done is done. It’s selfish to hold onto how I was the first person who loved you because people change.” You sure did. Quickly. You kept those words to yourself, not wanting to show resentment over his actions and laying your heart completely on your sleeve, ripe for the picking. “And I think you need to be okay with people not liking you because that’s the way life is.”

The twinkle died. Not in burning, scorching flames, but in the gentlest way one’s shine could completely disappear from their visage. Like a wilted petal that slowly falls off its stem, the wind carrying it away. He was now looking at you with not hope, not pleading, but with complete and utter sadness—it was the same sadness you carried on your face for months while images of the two of you ran rampant through your mind. And there wasn’t a shred of you that could find itself to feel any form of sympathy for him because he never felt it for you.

“Y/N…” Your name was like a prayer that came out of his mouth, and you could see his eyes blinking furiously like they did when he was scrambling for any idea, any words to stop you from walking away. “I’m…”

You waited. Truly, you did, but the apology never came. It reminded you of all the times you’d argued with Satoru, and ended up taking him back in your arms once you cooled down and he diverted your mind from the matter. He never apologized, though, and you always realized that much after you took him back, once the wound was healed enough that a doctor would turn you away if you came asking for a checkup.

Nothing had changed, and when you walked away from the balcony, the empty glass of wine heavy in one hand and phone in another, you felt at ease. Because nothing had changed and Satoru wasn’t your problem anymore.

“That’s—he’s so, ugh!” Reina said, exasperated, once you recounted the events to her. You had to physically guide her to your bed and make her sit down with her hands on your lap while you thought about handcuffing her so she wouldn’t run to Satoru and Hana’s house and physically strangle him. But you glossed over it, severely underestimating your friend.

You rolled your eyes, perfectly showing her you agree, but she still asked, “You promise me that was it? That you walked away and didn’t like, I don’t know, run to him and kiss him like he’d just gotten back from war?”

You narrowed your eyes, moderately offended she could even suggest that after everything that went down between the two of you. “Fuck you,” you replied, chuckling as you swatted her on the arm. 

She turned her body to face you more, and you gathered all your courage to hear what she was preparing herself to say. “No matter what. No matter what, babe, you aren’t going to hear him out because he deserves none of your time and, in fact, doesn’t even deserve to do so much as breathe in your direction.” Her arms flailed around, an action that always occurred when she was giving you her honesty (and to smack the sense and direction you knew you needed into you). “And.” She took in a breath, as if it was taking everything in her to say the words. “He has a girl at home—he had a girl at home waiting for him the night of the dinner, too. And you don’t want to fall into the trap of a taken man, Y/N, trust me.”

When your mother walked into your room, eyes filled with steel determination, you braced yourself for a lecture about something you’d done recently.

“I’m not giving Takayashi the company,” she said, words laced with venom as your eyes narrowed. You knew she was hardballing, trying to get the Gojo’s to cough up every penny they could, but you thought that she’d sign it over—at least half of it—because it was built on your dad and Takayashi’s foundation. 

“Ma—”

“I don’t want to hear any debate about this, sweetheart. I’m doing exactly as your father would’ve wanted me to do, even if it means going throat to throat with a man as deadset as him. I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t hear it from word of mouth.”

You swallowed, confusion tangling into the web of emotions in your mind. “Papa was good friends with Mr. Gojo, wasn’t he? He only took the company because Mr. Gojo was dealing with legal problems?” Your words didn’t sound too sure, and it was because you remembered how your father spent the last few months of his life badmouthing the eldest of the Gojo family. “Or am I missing something?”

“He…” She began, feet padding across the floor as she reached your bed and took a seat on the edge. Her fingers traced the minimal pattern of the baby’s breath flowers on the blanket before she continued, “Takayashi, he tried to frame your father, in some way.” You gasped, a hand reaching over and cupping your mouth. “I know, I thought the same. But it’s truly a miracle what a man behind bars would do, the straws he would cling onto. Though he was soon proven to be lying, of course, and served his time.” 

“Mama.”

“I know he was probably trying to save his own skin and didn’t mean to betray your father, sweetheart, but this… this company is the last I have left of him. I can’t give it away for a wad of cash.”

Your lips trembled, and in that moment you realized you were looking into not just the eyes of your mother who’d sung lullabies to you and pretended as if the green vegetables were actually fancy chocolate to get you to eat them, but a woman who had been holding her husband as he paused in the middle of talking as his eyes grew as wide as saucers. She was the woman that willed to keep him breathing, breathing all he could as she hoped there was more—more time, more breath, you weren’t sure because you weren’t there—until he whispered his last words to her. She was the woman that cradled her own husband as he died because his last words were let me as he weakly cupped her jaw. She didn’t jump to call an ambulance because the small part—the realistic part—in her told her that this was it, and she’d heard too many stories of people losing their loved ones while they were stammering their words to a complete stranger over the phone, willing them to come at light speed. 

You knew how difficult grief was, and only had your mother to truly depend on after your father died. But your pain wasn’t the same as hers, and you understood. She’d lost the man she vowed to spend the rest of her life with, the man that she had been bound to for so long she couldn’t even look at another man as anything but a nuisance in her life.

“Mama, it’s okay,” you soothed. Your voice cracked as you realized how difficult it must’ve been for her to sit across the same man that betrayed her dead husband. 

She shook her head, as if she was physically trying to will away her thoughts, before she asked, “Are you? Okay, I mean.”

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Of course. Aside from, you know, papa…”

“I’m sorry you had to be around Satoru for so long.”

“Mama, please. I told you it’s nothing.” You giggled, a horrid attempt at not physically recoiling at how easily she’d caught onto everything. You had told her it was nothing, too, a few days after the wedding invitations arrived and she spotted the pink rhinestone underneath your desk, right next to your books, and asked you if you were okay. 

“I know you told me it’s nothing but could you tell me what happened? Only if you want to, of course. I may have heard you and Reina talking about Satoru the other day when I walked past your room; I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, of course, I only heard a bit of what Reina said.”

You grimaced, and decided to hell with it. “We were—” you hiccuped before you could even let out the next word. Your mother moved closer to you, eyes wary and attentive. You thought about it, thought about how your mother would’ve put her entire soul into making sure you and Satoru had the perfect wedding. “Mama, I can’t.”

A sob wracked through your entire body, and for a moment, you felt like you were seven once again and had just seen your crush spend recess with another girl as your body doubled over and your head was guided to her lap. Her fingers brushed through the strands of your hair, a touch that could only ever be a mother’s, as she used her soft, gentle voice to calm you down.

“Mama, we were engaged.”

Her fingers stopped midway through your hair, and underneath your skin, you felt her body go rigid. She was floored, and rightfully so. It wasn’t something she could’ve guessed, especially not after she’d seen the two of you at dinner the other day, so silent and indifferent it would be hard to imagine you were once ready to spend the entirety of your lives with each other. 

“Oh, baby.” You didn’t dare look up to see her expression, knowing it was marred with sorrow and pity. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The air was thick, and you were sure it would be hard for you to breathe because the air had been sucked out of the room the moment you told your mother about the engagement.

[thescarletnargacuga]

THE ANNIVERSARY BALL

A CANON TIME CAPSULE AU FANFICTION

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: alcohol, swearing, verbal harassment (the guests of the time capsule are terrible people), some suggestive dialogue

~~~

Caine adjusted the metals on his dress uniform and made sure his tie was straight. The floor length mirror reflected an image of foux military prestige. He was ready to host the grandest party the Time Capsule threw, The Anniversary Ball. At least, he looked ready, but in truth, he never was. The annual event was attended by the wealthiest of the wealthy clients the Capsule served. They constantly bragged to him how they could afford the tickets to the impossibly expensive party.

Caine sighed and smoothed his jacket. “Alright soldier, chin high. Back straight. Presentation is what matters. Don't let them intimate you. Don't let them get under your skin. Don't back down. Be all that you can be.” He stared hard at himself, putting himself into the mindset to face his worst enemy: socialits.

The longer he looked, the less he recognized the reflection staring back. The teeth around his mix matched eyes became pale skin. Light, well-kept hair sat atop his head. The visage of a handsome young man with tired eyes blinked with him. Caine lifted his hand to his face, half expecting to feel real flesh, when a holographic screen popped up next to him.

“Our guests will be arriving shortly.” BUBLE informed.

Glancing away from himself was all it took to break the haunting vision from the mirror. Caine checked his pocket watch, less than an hour. “Are all preparations complete?”

“Yes. The botanical gardens are prepared to welcome our guests. Are you? I do not wish to have a repeat of last year.”

“If I recall, I wasn't the problem in that situation. You had to eject the guest.” Caine held his hands behind his back, standing tall.

For the briefest of seconds, BUBLE’s screen glitched. “You recall incorrectly. It is your job to keep our guests happy. Any guest ejected is a failure on your part. A failure that will be corrected. Follow your directive, Ringmaster Caine, or there will be-”

“Consequences.” Caine struggled already not to roll his eyes. “Uh-huh, for a robot, you are awfully dramatic.”

~

The botanical gardens was a large outdoor venue laiden with a multitude of exotic plants from around the world. No matter what natural environment they were from, they grew believably in the false world within the capsule. The AI generated smell of the mixed flora was pleasant at the very least.

In the center of the gardens, a stone courtyard contained a small stage for performances. For this special occasion, white clothed round tables were added for the Anniversary dinner. An open bar was added to the side for Kinger to mix drinks. Lights were strung across the courtyard for ambiance and the capsule's day cycle was halted at twilight to preserve the rich post sunset lighting.

Caine met with Kinger and Zooble at the gardens first, as they were working with faceless NPCs to set up. He checked his watch again. Guests would be arriving in less than twenty minutes so his performers should be arriving any second. He took a deep breath of heavy floral air.

“You can do this, soldier. You're one of our best.” Kinger assured from his place behind the bar and served a shot of whiskey.

Caine took it without a word and downed it easily. He exhaled the bitter burn of the alcohol and tapped the bar with the glass. “One more. I'm going to need it.”

Kinger poured. “Don't get ahead of yourself. It's going to be a long night.”

“Don't I know it.” Caine catches a glimpse of the performers entering the gardens mid shot and chokes. Pomni was dressed to the nines in a way he'd never seen before.

Kinger shakes his head, wipes down his whiskey sprayed bar and tops of Caine's glass. His six hands make easy work. Kinger watched Caine stare wide eyed at Pomni walking in with Ragatha, Jax, and Gangle. He huffed a small laugh.

Caine hardly had the wherewithal to wipe the dribbled drink off his chin. Pomni was wearing a midnight blue dress with golden accents that made her outshine the beauty of the night sky itself. He had to hold on to the bar before her aura knocked him down. None were worthy to stand in her presence.

Pomni adjusted her evening gloves, they were holding much too tight to her upper arms and were going to annoy her all night. At least she got to wear low heel boots instead of heels, so her feet wouldn't be killing her by the end of the event. Small mercies. “So we have to socialize with all the guests?”

“Unfortunately.” Gangle answered flatly. “Eat, perform, mingle. BUBLE has never given us a set end time. The guests come and go as they please, but don't think any event has gone longer than…six hours?”

Pomni wanted to throw herself down the nearest sewer drain, but anything she had to say left her mind when she saw Caine. The vague military officer's uniform fit him very nicely. She went right to him.

Caine's breath caught in his throat. Oh lord, she was walking towards him. He slid the shot away from him and stood pretty. “Evening, Pomni.” He greeted her formally.

Caine's stiffer than usual demeanor surprised her. “Uh, evening, Caine. You look nice.” She nervously complimented him, noticing Kinger sliding away to give their conversation privacy.

Caine's neck felt hot, but he remained at attention. He was afraid if he let himself relax, he would fall apart right in front of her. “And you look…” Every synonym for beautiful he knew, even in other languages, flew through his head. “Presentable.” Was what came out of his mouth.

Pomni blinked. “Thanks..?”

Before Caine could correct himself, BUBLE’s screen appeared amongst them. “Attention cast members, our guests will arrive in one minute. Places.”

Pomni walked away, leaving Caine mentally kicking himself. He snatched the abandoned shot and downed it before taking his place at the entrance to the gardens to greet the guests.

Caine stood in the middle of the entrance, Pomni and Gangle stood to his right along the edge. Jax and Ragatha to his left. At the end of BUBLE’s countdown, a glowing red vertical line appeared mid air. It split and opened a wide digital doorway. Guests poured in by the dozens.

Caine steeled himself. Showtime. “Welcome to the Time Capsule Anniversary Ball!” He boldly announced.

~

The gardens filled with elegance that reeked with wealth. The white tie event brought out the most elaborate gowns and tailor made suits. The guests mingled lightly before dinner. Some went straight to the bar and Kinger was put to work, showing off his best tricks as he poured drinks.

Pomni could feel her stomach twisting more and more as the venue filled with some of the most pompous, old money rich types she's ever seen in her life. Even the porcelain masks they wore couldn't hide the entitlement.

The guests were seated for dinner and Caine took to the central circular stage. He held up a champagne glass and tapped in with a small fork to quiet the crowd. “Welcome, esteemed guests, to the most wonderful night of the year! Tonight, we celebrate the day the Capsule was sent back through time to start this wonderful show! You all have the exclusive privilege to dine, drink and dance with the cast of this world famous Time Capsule! Enjoy, my friends, and cheers to another year of time travel entertainment!” Caine raised his glass and the crowd toasted with him.

Pomni sat at the cast table with the others, painfully aware of wandering eyes from the guests. This felt way more invasive than just mingling. Snobby guests were going to be in her space all night. She's never wanted to be on stage and out of arm's reach more.

Cast meals were short compared to the guests' five course dinners, they needed to be on stage. Caine didn't eat at all. He wandered the courtyard to speak with guests that would flag him down. One guest asked him when the sexy bitch with the violin would be performing and Caine couldn't suppress an eye twitch. “She's the first act, actually. Enjoy.” Caine forced a smile and kept walking. Before mingling with the next guest, he took a shot of vodka.

Pomni played her heart out on stage, moving with the music as lights danced around her. It was truly a spectacle that had the guests actually cheering. Pomni played so hard, her violin bow smoked by the end. As much as she hated playing, it was a good way to get rid of nervous energy.

Caine was enthralled. He has to force himself to look away from the stage so as to not stare. That's not what was expected of him. Everyone else got to ogle Pomni all they wanted. He hoped if he kept moving he'd miss the comments made about her. He still caught a few. Everything was being judged, from her dress to her body and he wanted to shoot every last one of them. But the only shot he took was another vodka.

Pomni dabbed her brow with a napkin as Gangle took to the stage for her performance. Caine power walked to her with a glass of water but another guest still got to her before him. He internally cursed but kept his cool as he slowed his gait. It was the guest that asked about Pomni before. He needed to stay close.

The sleazy guest sidled up to Pomni. “Hey, beautiful. That was quite the performance. When the dance floor opens, you and I should be the first ones out there.”

Pomni saw Caine approaching and thought fast. “I'm afraid you're out of luck for the first dance.” She skirted around the guest and stood next to Caine. She took his arm. “I'm supposed to dance with the Ringmaster when the floor opens.”

“What?” Caine slipped out quietly.

“What?? That hasn't been a thing before!” The guest bristled.

“This is my first year.” Pomni rationalized. “And events change. Surely you understand.”

“The only thing I understand is that you're making excuses, slut.” The guest balled his fists.

The glass in Caine's hand shattered loudly. Bits of glass cut his hand, but he didn't flinch as blood dripped from his fingertips. “She's right, I'm afraid.” Caine slid his arm out of Pomni's hold and pulled her close to him by her waist. “Sorry, Ringmaster privilege. You'll have your chance after.” He walked away with Pomni to the bar, ignoring the warning pulls from BUBLE.

Pomni jumped when Caine grabbed her. She'd blush if she wasn't so confused and a bit disgusted by Caine's behavior. Stale alcohol wafted off of his breath. “What are you doing?” She hissed under her breath.

“Getting a napkin for my hand. When Jax and Ragatha are done, the band will take to the stage and the dance floor will be available. Wouldn't want to disappoint the guests by making me hunt you down.” He smirked.

Pomni's eyes narrowed with anger. “What is with you? I just wanted that a-hole to leave me alone. You seriously want to go through with the dance?”

“It's him or me, doll.” Caine nodded to a guest at the bar next to him as he wiped his hand clean. He stole a shot of tequila from another guest that wasn't looking. “And I think we both know the answer.” He gave her a cocky grin, but his eyes watched the guests watching him.

Pomni's heart hurt. He was just like them. Arrogant. Entitled to her space and time. She had no alternative. It was bad either way. She sadly leaned against the bar. “Fine.”

Jax and Ragatha did a wonderfully unique performance of break dancing and roller skate tricks. It got relatively good reception from the guests. Now, it was time for everyone's favorite part of the night. The NPC band took to the stage and the open area around it was lit to invite people to dance.

Caine straightened his jacket and held his hand out to Pomni. “Let's give them the show they've been waiting for.”

Pomni swallowed what she could of her pride and took Caine's hand. She let him lead her out onto the empty dance floor and did her best to look sophisticated. She stiffened as Caine out his hands on her. She thought she would looked forward to this, but instead she wanted him to get away from her.

Caine swayed a bit heavily for the waltz but kept in time with the music from muscle memory. A minute into the song, more couples joined and he could lose himself in her a little. He could drop his mask behind the curtain of dancing guests. With his nerves numbed by the multitude of drinks, he could finally say what he meant earlier. “You are the most gorgeous woman in any timeline.”

Pomni’s heart swooned but she kept a straight face. “You don't have to tell me that. The guests can't hear you.” Her voice dripped with venom.

“I know. That's why I said it.” He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “Let me try again. These jagoffs are the worst humanity has to offer and I hate dealing with them, but the only way to is be…like them. Blend in. Especially as Ringmaster. I'm sorry I didn't properly warn you, but there really isn't anything that will prepare you for this.”

Pomni’s expression softened. That sounded much more like the Caine she knew. “Heh, jagoffs. That's a funny word.”

“I'm a funny man.” Caine winked. “Now, allow me to correct myself from earlier. You are far more than presentable. You are the star of the show. The bee's knees. The ragtime gal no one can hold down.” His dancing became more energetic as the band played music throughout history, blending from classical to early 1900’s jazz and swing.

Pomni snorted, trying to hold in her laughter. Her body moved on it's own, the AI installed dance moves being completely foreign to her, but she kept up with Caine going ham on the dancefloor.

The guests were just as into the music but Caine and Pomni had the most amount of space, drawing attention to themselves with their performance. They swung each other around and moved in sync like the choreography was planned.

Caine’s officer sword was annoyingly in the way as the dances became more lively and complex. He slid off his belt in one motion and tossed it to Zooble. “Hold that for me, would ya?”

Zooble had been doing their best to be unnoticed all night. Their appearance made dealing with guests even more of a hassle. They caught Caine's ceremonial sword with one hand. “Like I have a choice?”

Caine lifted Pomni in the air and twirled her around, the trail of her dress flowing in the wind. By now, they had the whole room's attention, but Pomni allowed herself to be taken by the music and Caine. The world around them was blurred. It was just the two of them, as the music progressed through the decades. They were allowed to dance closer, hold each other in ways that they normally couldn't in front of the guests. They're heavy breaths were hot on each other’s necks.

Kinger wiped a glass as he watched the performance. “I knew you had it in you.” He said to himself. He almost missed the woman looking at him, but slid over to her and put on his best customer service voice. “What can I get ya?”

“You.” She slurred heavily.

Kinger furrowed with confusion. “Pardon?”

“You. You tall, handsome silly.” She laughed way too loud. “When are YOU gonna dance?”

“Sorry miss, I'm not a performer, but I'd be happy to serve you a drink. Water, perhaps?”

“Aw, come on. I need to get some wood tonight and you look like you have plenty to spare.” She almost face planted on the bar trying to give him her best unfocused bedroom eyes.

Kinger blinked. He didn't get the innuendo but he could tell she was coming on to him. He poured her a glass of water. “My sincerest apologies, but I'm needed here. Please, take this. On the house.”

“Ugh, you're no fun.” She took her water and staggered away.

Kinger sighed. The night wouldn't last forever, but it sure felt like it.

Ragatha smiled dreamily watching Pomni and Caine tearing up the dancefloor. Jax leaned against the bar next to her, lazily glancing at her. “You wish that was you, huh?”

Ragatha snapped out of her daydream and fiddled with her hands. “Maybe.”

Jax pushes up his shades. His tease didn't work the way he hoped. “Well, then…we’ll have to steal the next show then won't we?”

Ragatha gasped and grabbed his jacket. “Oh, Jax! Really!?”

Jax tried to be annoyed but her excitement was actually adorable. “Sure, why not?”

“Yay!!” Ragatha cheered, jumping up and down.

The music through the decades came to an end with Caine holding Pomni to his chest, her arms over his shoulders, her forehead to his top teeth. Both panting from the intense dancing. The crowd erupted with cheers and whistles. Pomni and Caine smiled more than they had all night, gazing into each other's eyes. They stayed close for as long as they dared before having to separate to take a bow.

As Caine and Pomni went for water, Ragatha and Jax rushed the dance floor. “You were great out there!” Ragatha congratulated as she went by Pomni.

Caine hated having to wear his Ringmaster mask again. While Kinger was busy with other guests, Caine helped himself to a bottle from behind the bar and poured his tallest drink of the night. At least it was clear so he could convince himself it was just spicy water.

Pomni got some actual water, but Caine still drank faster than her. “How in the-”

Caine groaned after finishing his chug of lighter fluid liquor. “Too much practice, I'm afraid. I'm having fun Pomni, I want to stop caring about appearances.”

“But, BUBLE-”

“BUBLE can get stuffed.” Caine couldn't feel the tugs on his fingers anymore. “Let's say you and I take a walk.” The guests around them were all either watching Jax and Ragatha or too intoxicated to focus on anything.

Pomni gripped Caine’s forearm. “Take me away.” Her voice low and inviting.

Caine’s stomach danced with butterflies. Though, that could have been the alcohol hitting him hard. He offered her his arm and walked with her as dignified as he could manage in his woozy state, and they snuck away down one of the dimly lit paths going into the exotic garden.

The path was surrounded by tall plants that muffle the sounds of the celebration in the courtyard, it was calming. They could both breathe a bit easier. They went around corners carefully, finding more than a few guests that had beaten them to the quiet area with a friend or two. Deeper into the garden, they finally find solitude.

“That was a wonderful dance, Caine. How did we even do all that?”

“It's part of the performer programming. The avatars know what to do. You just go along for the ride. Which has made this the best night I've ever had in the capsule.” Caine stopped walking and held Pomni's hands. “I got to dance with the most stunning woman at the ball. I got to touch her…hold her.”

Pomni's heart raced. “Maybe you should do that more often.” She moved his hands to her waist so he could hold her like they were dancing again. Her hands slid up his chest as she closed the gap between them.

Chills went up Caine's spine. His long fingers gripped lightly as he held her close. “I'd like to, but she's trouble.”

Pomni raised a brow. “Oh?”

Caine starts to laugh, a dark blush creeping up his neck. “Mhm, she's- she's the reason- I have to-” His drunken giggle fit keeps him from finishing his sentence.

“I- what?” Pomni laughed with him.

“Nevermind, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Probably something stupid. Let me try a different line.”

“Hit me with your best shot.” She played with the medals on his chest.

Caine had to loosen his tie, he was feeling way too hot for the uniform. “Then you better brace yourself, because I'm quite the rifleman.” His eyes smoldered. “I ne'er on your form for a moment have gazed, but a thousand temptations beset me.” His hands squeezed the supple flesh of her hips.

Pomni's cheeks flushed, her breath caught. “Oh my…”

“Your coral lips were made to kiss.” Caine's eyes drifted to her gasping lips. Long had he wondered what they would feel like against him. “Would you like to practice on mine?”

Pomni couldn't help herself and muffled a giggle. “I would say yes, but…”

Oh. Right. She was laughing, so he switched gears to goofy. “All right, you wanna play hardball? Try this one! I'm a ragtime millionaire, soul owner and agent of Up-To-Date Canoodling. Hand Holding is a specialty.” He takes one of her hands and spins around with her like he was trying to dance again but he was much less coordinated without music.

He tripped over the trail of her dress and fell into the bush next to the path, taking Pomni with him. Pomni fell back first into the mulch between the plants. Caine went into the bush itself and rolled over on top of her. He braced himself up by his hands and took a moment to focus, the whole world was starting to spin in the wrong direction for him.

Pomni froze, bracing her hands on Caine's shoulders to keep him from collapsing on top of her. He blinked the haze away and made eye contact with her. Pomni wetted her lips nervously as neither of them moved. “Are we-...are you…going to get up?” She asked with no real urgency.

“Do you really want me to?” Caine's voice dropped an octave, his eyes half lidded with unmasked desire.

Pomni hooked her fingers in his tie and gently pulled him down. “No.”

Caine lowered himself onto his elbows and closed his eyes to press his teeth to her. He was close enough to feel the very warmth of her inviting lips.

“CAINE! HEY!! CAINE!? YOU OUT HERE!?”

Caine shot up so fast, his hat went flying. He quickly got out of the bushes and helped Pomni back up. Gangle came around the corner as they were wiping off mulch and picking leaves out of hair.

“Gangle! What are you doing back here?” Caine asked harshly as he fixed his uniform.

Gangle raised a brow. “I could ask you two the same thing. Did you forget about doing your closing speech or something? We're waiting for you to thank the guests so they'll leave.”

“Right. Right. Please excuse me.” Caine left quickly.

Pomni picked up the uniform hat Caine left behind. She brushed it off and tried to walk past Gangle but a ribbon stopped her. She gulped.

“What were you doing in the bushes?” Gangle gave Pomni a suggestive look.

Pomni refused to look Gangle in the eye. “Nothing.”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes. Because that's the only answer you're getting.” Pomni pushed onward back to the party.

“He was buttering your biscuit, wasn't he?” Gangle grinned, enjoying Pomni's embarrassment a bit too much.

Pomni scoffed. “Maybe he would've if we hadn't been interrupted.”

“Sorry, but everyone is getting restless and he has to do the speeches. A Ringmaster’s job is never finished. You can bag him after the guests leave. I'm hanging out with Zooble tonight, so the room is all yours.”

Pomni dragged her hand down her face. “Sure. Thanks.”

~

It took another hour, but all the guests finally left. The courtyard was a wreck. For such a formal event, the guests were still sloppy as pigs. NPCs wandered about with brooms and rags. Zooble thankfully didn't have to touch any of it. Everyone tiredly went back to their dressing rooms.

Pomni and Caine stood in front of her door. “You're…welcome to come inside.”

Caine's heart skipped a beat. He really wanted to, but he considered himself a gentleman and he pushed his moral code far enough tonight. Plus, the alcohol was leaving his system and he was starting to not feeling well. “My dear, tonight has been wonderful, but I'm afraid I must leave you here.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I'm sorry.”

Disappointed, Pomni took her hand back slowly, their hands staying connected to the last possible moment. “I understand, but…just one thing.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed the side of his lower jaw. Quickly, she turned into her room and shut the door.

Caine felt where she kissed him. It may not have been exactly where he wanted it, but it was as wonderful as he imagined. Her lips were so soft against the hard false enamel of his strange teeth. It was so fast yet so sweet. He stood staring at her door for a long while, at war with himself over going inside. Gangle said she wouldn't be back this evening.

Against his greater desire, he walked away. Caine went off in a daze to the piano in the back of the main stage. He took off his dress jacket and flopped face first into the piano bench. Sleep was calling to him, but so was BUBLE.

“Caine. Your evaluation has been submitted.”

Caine didn't respond.

“Guest approval for the night was overall above satisfactory. One event in particular boosted morale significantly. Your unexpected dual performance with our violinist. This must be repeated.”

Caine started snoring.

“I know you're still awake.”

Caine lifted his head. “Dance with Pomni more. Got it. Buzz off.” He plopped his head back down.

~

The next day was business as usual. Pomni found Caine before the first performances. “Hey.” She smiled softly.

Caine smiled back. “Good morning, Pomni.”

“So, about last night-”

“I had quite a bit to drink and I hardly remember any of it. It's really the only way I can get through the anniversary ball. If I said something or touched you in a way that was inappropriate, I sincerely apologize.”

“Oh, you don't need to worry about that. You touched me just fine.”

Caine gaped. “I what?”

“I mean- it wasn't anything- we didn't- you know what, nevermind. Have a good day, Caine.” Pomni rushed off, bright red.

Caine sighed as he watched her walk away. Truth is, he didn't have anywhere near enough to get him blackout drunk. He remembered every look, touch, and dance. He remembered every word, every feeling. But this was for the best.

Things would only get harder to hide from BUBLE, they would run out of excuses and warnings. The AI would do something to Pomni and he couldn't let that happen. No matter how much his heart longs for her, it was best for him to keep his distance. The liquor made him reckless last night. If they had been caught by a guest, who knows what kind of punishment BUBLE would have made him do.

He's required to dance with her at events now, that's enough for him…most days. The very thought of her gets him through the rest.

[acatpiestuff]

hehehe. new ref for my pokemon oc Toddy, with some lore bits sprinkled in here and there. They've grown over the time I've had them...

TRANSCRIPT OF ALL THE WRITING UNDER THE READ MORE:

Name: Toddy Age: [UNKNOWN] Pronouns: ALL Height: 6'2" (188 cm) - selectively mute - baker - immortal - doesn't battle often [Toddy is a taller, slightly chubby person with wavy dark purple hair and round glasses. They have olive skin, and are wearing grey socks, brown baggy pants, and a green sweater with a collar. On the green sweater, there are little white tulips embroidered on the righthand breast of the sweater. Over the sweater, Toddy is wearing a dark grey cardigan.]

Notes on Toddy's Visage and Background:

Hand embroidered clothing. Prefers comfort and utility over style.

From the civilization that created the golurk

is held together by ghosts of his hometown, which prevents him from dying

woke up in a field of white tulips, where his town used to be

travels with the last remaining golurk from his town.

Home Base is in Pinwheel Forest. Small cabin w/ garden + brick oven (self-made)

[Toddy has] homemade socks.

[her] hair is wavy and messy.

[ There are two sketches of Toddy's head, one facing forward, smiling and one in profile view. There are also two tiny doodles of Toddy's eye, one drawn correctly and one drawn incorrectly as a guide.]

OTHER SCRAPS OF LORE:

Had to dig self out of soil, was partially buried. [ Image of Toddy, disheveled and covered in mud, crawling out of a pile of dirt and rubble, grass everywhere.]

Woke up in a flower field. Ancient civilization is no more. The last golurk watched over Toddy as they slept in the soil. [ Image of Toddy and Golurk looking over a valley covered in white tulips, the flowers going even over the silhouettes of the mountains on each side.

Realizes death cannot reach them through neither age nor injury. [ Image of an injured Toddy leaning against a rock, bloody and holding their wounds tightly. the silhouette of Golurk can be seen behind them.]

Has a strange relationship with the earth and the dirt. It feels like home. [ Image of Toddy lying in the flowerfield again, but this time on top of the grass. His hair is splayed out under him, as he reaches his hand over his face. [There is also a sequence of small doodles of toddy's face, one with a headband and a confused expression, and then a smaller doodle of toddy with dog ears matching the location and shape of his bangs. The last doodle is a tinier sketch of a tiny dog with round glasses, supposedly Toddy once more.]

White Tulip: associated with purity and new beginnings. [ Sketch of a white tulip in full bloom.]

Golurk's Eventual Pokeball: [ Image of a typical hisuian pokeball, with a stone top and wooden base. There is a crack running through the top of the pokeball.]

Toddy knows many ways to bake bread + baked goods.

Laments the loss of her cook book, which was lost to the destruction of the city. (READ: I meant recipe book not cook book.) [ Image of a loaf of crusty bread, in the style of a sourdough loaf.]

Toddy's Glasses: doesn't actually need them to see anymore. She used to be near-sighted. [sketch of a pair of round glasses.]

[ there is a set of small sketches, each sketch depicting Toddy in a different outfit. The first is a baker's uniform, complete with a hat and an apron with a rag tucked into the back. The second is Toddy in a oversized t-shirt with a lemon on it, and a pair of boxers. The last is a concept for a younger Toddy, with longer hair tied into a braid, and a loose hanbok-style top. Her pants are loose as well, however they are cinched at the ankles, right above her sandals. She is still wearing her round glasses in all of the sketches.]

[The final sketch is a simplified version of Toddy's face, crinkled into a huge, happy grin. There is a grinning emoji sketched underneath it, and a small notation that says "grins" above it.]

[shadow211e]

Distorted Mirror

Alice was 18 and just got home from college after her first year, her stepmom was around all the time bothering her. Anything she wanted to do, her stepmom seemed to come in and ruin it. Her stepmom was hot and slutty looking, Alice couldn't even remember why her dad married her in the first place. The two got into an arguement and Alice told her to go to hell, and her stepmom just started laughing and walked away. Alice rolled her eyes and went back to reading, completely shocked by the unhidged woman her dad married.

About a week after Alice got home her stepmom disappeared, like all of her stuff was there but her stepmom had just left. Her dad had no clue where she went at all and the quiet and peace seemed nice for once. Her father and her had come back from a nice dinner out, when her dad was in the bathroom she had to use one, so she ran upstairs to the master bedroom where her stepmom had taken over and used it. She flushed and got up to wash her hands when she looked into the mirror.

As Alice looked in the mirror she saw an image of her stepmom, but then the image was being twisted and she saw her mom, she blinked and was confused, her mom died when she was young didn't she? Her mom was calling out to her "Baby I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Mom?"

"You have to destory this mirror, it's a mirror that leads to a demon, he twisted and corrupted me, turned me into your stepmom, no one even remembered me not even your father. I started to love acting like a bitch, the more I did the more I became evil, the more I enjoyed it, but that was the demon's plan to corrupt me, to change me."

"Where are you?"

"My body, it's with the demon in the demon realm, nothing but an evil succubus at this point."

"What are you then?"

"The last visages of my former self, the last of my heart and soul before it's blacked and dies, I'm leaving it as a warning, but I can feel myself fading, destory this mirror before it's too late."

"Mom!" Alice screamed out as the image of her mom started to fade into swirling vortex of blackness. "MOM!!"

In the darkness Alice started to see red eyes staring back at her, in the back of her mind deep laughing started to echo, "oh little lamb, Mommy is well taken care of now, she has no more mortal cares, her body is built for lust and that is her purpose. Maybe you would like to experience what it is like for her?"

"What are you?"

"What? A humble demon lord, with a harem of succubi, an army of incubi and other things, and my rank in the demonic realm is growing, maybe you would like to join mommy, I can show you untold pleasures."

"No, never, give my mom back."

"Oh little lamb, your mother did it to herself, I just showed her the first step, she went willingly."

"Why would she? And why did I think she was my stepmom?"

"Both good questions, something you would have to ask her, too bad now as a succubus she has no care about such things, nor does she have the memories of the mortal realm, time works differently, and though she has only joined me here, she feels she has been there at least 100 years, alas, time talking to you is taking from my other duties, enjoy your life mortal, and if you wish to talk more, just tap the glass and I will give you all you need."

"Never." The figure started to fade away, laughing, as Alice could hear what sounded like the sexual moans and what she could only figure was her mom or whatever her mom had become. She slammed her fists onto the mirror "LET HER GO," she screamed but there was no response. Had she listened to her mom and smashed the mirror, she would have been safe, but by touching it, even in anger allowed the demon access to her, the demon had played the game well, carefully setting her up to do exactly what he wanted her to do, now she was open to him, even if she didn't know it yet.

Over the next few weeks, since the mirror incident, things in the house had started to seem different, more calm like it was before her stepmom, well mom, or whatever. Her dad though was starting to seem out of place again, like he was lost. Alice felt bad for him, she wanted to do something so she decided to help clean up all of her stepmom's stuff, she started with the bathroom. She was cleaning up slowly, hoping to get a glance of her mom if she was still there but there was nothing but her reflection. She thought she was nuts still trying to hold on what she saw, those visions were just crazy, so she gave up thinking about them, she was packing things up when she heard a voice in her head, saying she could help her dad, they could help him together, if she wanted. She wanted to help him, she wanted to make him happy, the voice was sounding so sweet to her, she agreed without thinking, and felt a warm tingle pass over her. She looked down to see an application to her father's job there, filled out, in her handwriting but the name on it wasn't Alice it was Alexis.

That name Alexis as she read it rang in her ears, it felt wild, raw, sexual, alluring, nothing she would have really assiociated with herself, she was always the nice girl the good girl. She did notice that the application was a print out, did she already apply to the job? She noticed at the bottom was an interview day, it was for today, in a few hours. She licked her lips, she could go but here dad would recognize her and it would be weird wouldn't it? No, a little makeup, a cute outfit she could pull this off, besides she probably wouldn't even see her dad.

The smarter part of her was telling her not to go, to just find someway else to make things better, but a weird urge inside her tells her to go to the interview have a little fun, who would notice. She found some clothes still left in the closet of her stepmom and decided why the fuck not. She got dressed and headed for the interview.

Heading for the interview Alice was feeling more powerful today, guys looking at her was making her feel wanted, like men were craving her and she was eating it up. Getting to the interview the man was stumbling over himself trying to talk to her, she had this man wrapped around her finger and she was eating it up. She asked if it would be ok if she walked around before accepting the job, just to get a feel for the office. Normally the man would have said no to such a request but with her he didn't seem like he could say no. Wandering around the office, she had been there a few years ago when her dad took her as part of a family day, she had to recall where his office would be, and finally she found it and she knocked on his door.

"Come in"

"Morning sorry to bother you," she said figuring he would recognize her, but he didn't.

"It's ok, by the looks of your ID sticker you are doing an interview, why are you wandering around?"

"I asked if I could look around and kind of get the feel of things before I accept the job."

"It's a good idea getting a feel for it, or a vibe check as what people call it huh."

She giggled a little, "you're so smart, but yeah totally." Did she just giggle and flirt with her dad? Did he smile at her?

"Are you hungry would you like to go out for a nice lunch, my treat, a way of maybe convincing you to work here."

She giggled "sure, I'd love that."

Alice, well Alexis, headed out to lunch, the more she kind of gave into being this Alexis the better she felt, her dad seemed to be falling over himself to impress her, she found out he had a daughter and that his second wife seemed to have disappeared and he was pretty much filing for a divorce because she just up and left. That his lawyers said he would get it easily and if that was the case he would always be open to finding a new beautiful woman to spend time with. She blushed but suggested that he would definitely be someone she would like to be dating.

After the lunch, they returned to the office, she felt good feeling his eyes on her, he was about to go back to his office and she was going to go to HR when she turned and hugged him and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek thanking him for the lovely lunch. The kiss lingered on his cheek longer than she wanted to, she felt his hands moving up her back, then back down and in a second she felt his hand move just for a second at her ass, she should be upset but instead she gasps softly and moans slightly in his ear, which makes him move down and squeeze her ass. An explosion of lust and need feels her and she was feeling excited. "Maybe another time soon," she says to him stepping back away from him, leaving him wanting more.

Getting home Alice was feeling so alive so thrilled, her heart was racing she knew what she did to her father was wrong but it felt so different. She went to the bathroom, she had gone to her stepmother's without thinking about it and started to change into something more comfortable to wear.

By time her dad got home she was in another outfit, this one was sexier than she normally would be wearing, it drew attention to her hips and ass, and most of all her tits. She was waiting for her dad when he got home, she stood there her breasts looking bigger than normal, not that she noticed she was noticing neighbors checking her out more. But when her dad got home, he looked through her, "Hi sweetie how was your day?" he asked her like he wasn't even looking at her, this angered her, how could he not look at her?

The voice in her mind, "he isn't looking at you because he is your father, he didn't see you as that at work, would you like his attention, would you like the attention of all men?"

The feeling in her pussy was throbbing more, she knew she shouldn't have but she nodded, "yes, I want it."

The voice in her mind hissed happily "yes, I will help you, if you want it, do you want it?"

"Yes."

"Good, embrace it, become Alexis."

Maybe it was the need to be noticed she never had before, maybe it was how her father acted around her earlier, but it was too good to not embrace it. She moaned as she agreed to it, she felt her body change a little more, becoming sexier, her clothes changed into a bathing suit, something she would have never worn before. She looked up the hall to her dad's office and headed up there. She walked in and smiled in front of his desk posing for him. "Wanna go for a swim?"

He looked up and saw his daughter for a second before something seemed to cloud over his mind, "Alexis" he said with a purr, "yeah let me just get changed. She watched his movements, his body was hiding something, he was getting aroused, he wanted her, she could tell him to pull out his cock and stroke it and he would. She could feel the control she had over him, it was intoxicating.

She turned and headed downstairs to the pool, she laid out on one of the lounge chairs face down, her ass in the air getting some sun while she waited. It wasn't long before he walked down "Alexis you look sexy as fuck, do you want me to rub you down with some suntan lotion?"

She smiled "Yes, take your time, get every inch of skin, I would hate to get burnt."

Her dad moved his hands over her legs, up her legs to her ass, over her round bubble butt, up her back, and arms, slowly applying the lotion all over her skin, the more he rubbed the more she felt pampered and perfect. The better she felt the more corrupted she had been becoming, not that she was aware of it, or at least not thinking about it, deep in her mind, she was fighting a war she had no chance of winning.

After a few hours of being with her dad, Alexis as she was now thinking of herself was feeling so good, he was falling all over himself trying to please her. She got a call from a friend of her's from high school asking if she wanted to hang out at the mall, she smiled "sure I'll be there in 30." She talked to her father and he wasn't sure why she was asking for permission, until she held her hand out for money, he blinked and pulled out his wallet and forked over his credit cards, "here you go have fun."

She got dressed and headed to the mall.

Getting to the mall, Alexis was getting looks and stares and it was feeding her, she was walking around feeling like the top of the world. She got to her friend who was astonished by how she looked, "what happened to you?"

"What?"

"You look different, you" her friend paused as Alexis stared into the girl's eyes, it was like her mind was being clouded over by the look, she blinked "You look stunning, I'm shocked so many guys aren't groveling at your feet already," she said. Alexis smiled as the girl was weak in the mind, so easily brought to bear. The two talked, the more they did the more she felt like Alexis a hot young woman who could have any man she wanted. When they brought up the subject of dating, Alexis said she had a few guys on the hook but one guy she had her claws deep into, showing the credit cards as proof.

The two walked around as Alexis did some shopping, racking up a couple thousand on the credit cards, feeling better with each swipe and approval. The more she felt like she was using the man the less he felt like her father and more felt like some pathetic worm to be used by her.

Walking into the house, she headed upstairs to her step…no to her walk in closet and vanity, it was all her's, why shouldn't it be hers. She started to put on some makeup, getting herself ready for dinner and walked downstairs.

"Daddy what do you think of the outfit?"

He blinked as he looked over at her, "I love it," he said his cock starting to twitch in his pants, he wasn't seeing her as a daughter anymore but a lover, "you shouldn't call me that, you know what it does to me."

Alexis licked her lips "what? Daddy, does it get you all hot and bothered? Makes you want to fuck me?"

"You know it does, so why don't you get over here and let me show you what it does."

She moved over and the two started to go at it, he bent her over the counter and flipped up her dressed and slid deep into her warm wet pussy. Her eyes flared red as the corruption of incest only sped up the transformation she was going through. As he laid into her over and over, she felt like this was her place, that she belonged her and like this and that he was just some pathetic man who married her to show off when really she was not faithful or kind to him. But he was too pathetic to do anything about it, she could cheat on him with him watching and he would only beg for her to do it over and over again.

A few days later Alexis was out on a little walk, well to say it was a walk was a lie, she was out hunting, her husband had been so boring lately, doing anything she wanted. So she got dressed up in front of her favorite mirror and smiled as the stunning being looked back at her and went out for a nice long walk, knowing she would easily find any man ready to pleasure her wet pussy before going back to her husband to make him clean her out. The last thing she thought she saw was red eyes watching her in the mirror, the being counting down until her corruption was complete.

for @naughtyalexisblog

[bts-hyperfixation]

Sensual Synthetics

Tired of your family getting on at you for not having a partner, you drunkenly lament to Taehyung. Your friend suggests you purchase an escort android through his favourite service.

Prologue

Chapter one

Your new toy arrives from the factory

2 weeks later your new friend arrives fully assembled in a pod charging station. 

You peer at him through the little glass window at the front. 

The online images didn't do him justice. The mere visage of this man left you a little breathless. He just looks like a regular guy sleeping, a regular guy but much much more attractive. You'd expected him to look a little bit mechanic, cold, maybe hard. But he looked remarkably soft and warm, and real. Like blood was actually pumping through his veins instead of coolant. It made you really question the last couple of dates that Taehyung had brought to various events and dinners. 

And you definitely didn’t think your family was going to believe you could pull a man like that out of nowhere.

Your fingers linger apprehensively over the latch that would release him, unsure you really want to go ahead with this. You itched to get a closer look, to inspect your perfect man, but if you opened the box you would never be able to return it… him…

As if on cue, your phone rings.

Your mother's image is plastered across your caller ID and you let out an exacerbated sigh before picking up. 

"Good morning mu..."

"Have you heard?! Your cousin is getting married! That's the last one. Now it's just you. Why do you hate me?" She shrieks.

She has always had a tendency to overreact in these situations. You're sure it came from a good place but it came across a lot like nagging. 

"I've had it with your career first nonsense, I don't want you to spend your whole life alone, and more importantly, I don't want to be the only one without grandchildren."

You take them phone away from your ear and sigh dramatically. That increasingly annoying reminder that your mum’s siblings all had brand new bouncing babies in their lives and your mum does not. Once you had suggested perhaps she could have another… it had not been a well-received quip…

"Mum, we've been over this. I'm not ready to settle down with a family."

"Don't give me that, you were two years old by the time I was your age."

"The world has changed Mum, plus lots of people are fine alone."

"Yeah well, you're not one of them. I've found you a man! Mrs Turner's boy is coming back to town and he always had a thing for you."

You can picture him now. Not ordinarily one to judge, it was difficult not to find Francis Turner to be the most repulsive guy on the planet. In high school he picked his nose and would wipe it on the backs of people's chairs, his scabs were always bleeding from where he picked them, and his hair was so long and unbrushed that the smell alone was enough to knock you out.

You glance back through the window at the sleeping visage of perfection. The plump lips and swooping fringe draw you in. Your fingers reach to play with the latch once more. You absently pick at the tape holding it shut.

"Mum if I get a date for the wedding will you drop this?"

"Absolutely, but where are you going to find a date, the wedding is in two weeks time. And he has to be a respectable man, Taehyung does not count! I don't trust that boy."

"I know Mum, you’ve made your feelings about Taehyung very clear. Besides he isn’t going to settle down either,” you point out “Why is she getting married so fast anyway?”

“Says it’s a whirlwind romance, can’t possibly wait another month your aunt says,”

“So we should expect a baby shower invite in seven months time,” you roll your eyes.

“Quite possibly, but that’s beside the point. The point is you are alone!”

“Yes mum, thank you for the reminder. Look I’ve got to go, I’ll see you at the wedding,”

“See you soon love, and remember, no Taehyung,”

“Yes mum, bye mum,”

You hang up the phone before she can get another word in, tossing the device onto the sofa behind you.

You rip off the parcel tape that's keeping the latch shut and pop open the pod. 

Immediately the android's eyes flip open, bright blue circles whirring as he loads. They settle and the blinding light fades to a duller pulsing blue that still looks unnatural.

"Good day, my name is Jimin, I am your personal fantasy assistant. Please, how can I serve you today?" 

His voice is so smooth, if it weren't for the introduction you would never suspect his origin. 

He is flawless.

Now you can see his entire body you are even more sure that no one is going to believe he is with you willingly, he better be programmed as a damn good actor.

"Uh.... hi." You wave awkwardly at the man as he steps forward out of the box.

You shuffle back as he moves toward you. He reaches out a hand for you to take and waits patiently for your brain to catch up with his gesture. You shake his hand as quickly as you can, gasping at how real he feels to touch.

"Would you like an explanation of my abilities?" He asks, tilting his head as if taking you in.

"Yes please." You answer, glad to have time to think. 

"Alright," he takes your arm and leads you to your sofa. 

He plumps the pillow behind you and then perches on the edge of your coffee table so he can look at you properly while he talks.

"I am a J-1-min model android, once again you may call me Jimin. I was created by Build-a-bot LLC for the purpose of giving you pleasure. Pleasure looks different for all users. I am programmed to clean, cook, and be a general caretaker as well as to look after all sexual gratification needs you may have. I have an AI system built in and will learn as we get to know one another in order to serve you better. Is there anything specific you would like to know, or anything about me you would like to modify? You can change my name if you like?"  

"Do you like your name?” You ask

“If you like my name, then I like my name,”

“Okay, I like your name… Can you change your eyes? The blue is very... bright."

"If that would make you happy I can, what colour would you like?"

He cycles his eyes through a selection of different colours that span the entire rainbow. You consider for a moment what might look the best with the other features you had given him.

"Do you have a favourite?" He asks as they land back on the original blue.

"I think brown? Dark brown maybe? What do you think?" 

'I like whatever you like... Miss?"

"Sorry, Y/n, call me Y/N"

"Of course Y/N, my eyes will remain dark brown until you ask for me to change them. Now, what can I do for you today?"

You tasked him with cooking breakfast, there weren’t a lot of groceries in the house, but it gave you time to make a call to Taehyung, something you perhaps should’ve done before opening the box. You watch him long enough to make sure he won’t destroy your house and excuse yourself to the bedroom. 

Naturally, Taehyung doesn’t pick up, it’s far too early for him to be awake. It’s likely he only went to sleep as the sun was rising. So you send him a brief message hoping he will get back to you when he can. 

Jimin calls out from the kitchen to tell you that he has finished cooking and you trail back in to sit at the breakfast bar where a tall stack of pancakes waits for you. He watches you closely as you bring the fork to your lips.

"Is it satisfactory?" He asks as soon as you swallow. 

"It's delicious... Are you going to watch me the entire time?"

"Not if you don't want me to... what would you like me to do instead."

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” You shrug.

“Can I assume I am your first android?” He asks although it seems more like he is making an observation than actually asking.

“You are, yes. And honestly, I’m not sure I really meant to order you, I was drunk at the time,” You admit.

“Does my presence make you uncomfortable?”

He looks sad when he asks, disappointed. You find yourself with the urge to reach out and comfort him. Your hand goes up to his cheek of its own accord. You’re again shocked to find he is warm and soft, not sure what you had really been expecting, maybe something more metallic. He feels like any other person you have ever met. 

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, just… unsure,”

He nods curtly and turns to do the dishes he had left in the sink, gathering up your plate as soon as you are finished. He searches through your cupboards putting things away in their places and learning the layout. When he comes across your cleaning supplies, he gathers those on to the counter and takes stock of what you have. He then reaches into the far depths of the cupboard under your sink and produces a hot pink apron your mother had bought that you had long forgotten about.

He dons the garment, tying a pretty little bow in the back and pulls on some brand-new rubber gloves. You stifle a giggle as he turns back to address you, looking thoroughly ridiculous in his business casual outfit and frilly apron.

“It is suggested in my standard programming that I should clean when not given instruction, is that okay?” 

“Be my guest,” you gesture.

“Fantastic, I will clean out here and the bathroom first,”

He wastes no time dusting through your living room, you decide to leave him to it and hide in your bedroom. Your phone remains undisturbed on your bed, Taehyung still not having awoken.

You stand awkwardly in your room, unsure of what might be the best thing to do while you wait for him to finish. Ideally, you would’ve spent the entire morning lounging around telling yourself you really needed to get some work done, eventually pulling yourself to your desk by mid-afternoon. Now it felt like you should get some work done too, you didn’t want your android to think you were lazy after all. 

You slip your headphones on and open up your writing app and your emails. Dismayed, you find a new selection of rewrites from your editor awaiting you, it seems your latest article was far from satisfactory. 

It takes you an hour to get through each little red underline, changing words and rephrasing paragraphs. As soon as you’ve hit send on the email back to your employer, you dip your head down onto your desk shutting your eyes for a moment. Your headphones slide down and land on the table with a soft thump. You reach to put them back on but you can hear something melodic coming from the living room.

Pressing your ear to the door, you listen carefully. It’s Jimin, humming to himself. His voice is rather pretty and you find yourself leaning against the door trying to hear him better. Just as you become flush to the wood, the door swings open and you tumble to the floor.

“I’m sorry, i should’ve knocked,” Jimin says. 

The robot stoops down and gathers you in to his arms as if you weigh less than nothing. Instinctually you wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself stable, although it doesn’t seem like you need to. He carries back into your room and deposits you gently onto the bed.

“Did you get hurt?” He asks, eyes scanning your body.

“No… just my pride,” You answer, sitting yourself up.

He looks confused by the statement but you just shake your head and smile lightly to reassure him. He nods and walks out of the room without another word.  You stay where he put you slightly bewildered by his abrupt exit, but he is back before you can think about it for too long.

“Here is some water, it should help,” he states.

Instead of passing you the glass, he holds it to your lips and supports your neck with his other hand encouraging you to let him help you drink. He doesn’t really give you the opportunity to refuse so you let him feed you half of the glass until he seems satisfied. 

Jimin finally places the glass on the bedside table and gently pushes you forward, slotting himself in behind you on the bed. He places his legs on either side of you and encourages you to lean back and use him as a pillow.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks.

“I was,” You gulp

You can feel every synthetic muscle in his torso pressed up against your back. With his height so similar to your own it feels like you slot in perfectly, you’d be lying if you told him you were uncomfortable physically, but emotionally? This brought up far more issues than it actually solved.

“I’m sorry, my programming suggested you might find this to be comforting. Would you prefer a pillow?”

“No, this is… this is okay,”

He hums as if he were pleased and his hands land on your shoulders, fingers pressing expertly into the soft tissue. A moan tumbles from your lips before you can catch it and he hums contentedly once more.

Next

Masterlist

[ravingramblings]

Fated Order: Twisted Wonderland

Ch 1: No Rest for the Wicked

    The Remnant Order is underway and you've already solved 2 of the Psuedo-Singularities. After having a debriefing with Mash and Da Vinci, you head to your room to shower and get some well deserved rest. You turn the lights off and climb into your bed, pulling the covers up and getting comfortable. Closing your eyes, you swiftly drift off to sleep, exhausted. 

    In your dreams, you see a mirror. Green flames flicker in the mirror's reflection. An unknown male speaks.

    "Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor… My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all. O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat… Reveal unto me the visage I seek…"

    A black carriage is drawn by horses toward a gate. On the other side stands what seems to be a massive castle with many spires. The full moon illuminates the path ahead. The scene returns to that of the mirror, and the voice speaks once more.

    "You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth… If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

     The silhouette of a hand takes shape within the mirror, enticing. The image is replaced by that of a vermillion flame.

    "As flame reduces even the stars to ash…"

    A shard of ice appears next.

   "As ice seals away even time itself…"

    Vibrant green energy swirls within the glass.

    "As great trees even swallow the sky…"

The imagery fades to black once more. 

    "Fear not the power of darkness. Now – demonstrate your power."

    A bright light grows, originating from the mirror, until it completely overtakes your vision. Then, nothing but darkness and that mysterious voice.

    "To me. To them. To yourself. The hour grows long and time is scarce. Keep steady your grip, no matter what may come…"

     You're startled out of the dream by the sound of something trying to open a locked door. You open your eyes to complete darkness. Feeling around, you seem to be in an enclosed space. Had you been unconscious in your coffin upon your return from a rayshift? That can't be right, considering there would probably be a lot more commotion had that been the case. So what happened then?

    "I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me…" Somewhat of a nasally, quirky, whiny voice speaks from the other side of the door.

     This is also a voice you've never heard before. Could this be a random staff member you've never spoken to before? Why are they looking for a uniform in your coffin? Why do they fear getting caught?

      "Urggggh… This lid weighs a ton!" 

       Did the coffin door get stuck? You try pushing on it from the inside. 

       "Try this on for size! Mya-ha!" 

        You don't think you like where this is going. Suddenly, blue flames overtake the front of the coffin and you yelp. You kick open the door at the same time it gives way. The first thing that occurs to you is that this is not Chaldea. But that's to focus more on later; more importantly you bat down the bit of flame sparking on your robes, of which you've never seen before. 

        "What?! You ain't supposed to be awake!" You now see that the voice belongs to a gray, cat-like creature with flaming ears and a forked tail. You assume it's a magical beast or something, because last time you checked cats don't look like that, nor do they talk. 

         "What are you? A hellcat?" You squint at the small creature in front of you.

          "How… How DARE YOU! I am no mere CAT! I'm Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire!" 

          "Fou!" Out from your coffin pops none other than Fou. Curious how he always manages to sneak along with you. The small beast scampers onto your shoulder and perches there. 

          "That thing is more of an animal than I am! Tch. Whatever. You… human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it!"

          You cross your arms. "I have a name, you know? And why would I give you the clothes that I'm wearing? They're the only thing I'm wearing and they wouldn't fit you, since they're human sized." Fou makes a sound in what seems to be agreement.

         "Oh-ho! You got a lotta nerve talking back to me, human! The name's Grim. Believe me, you won't forget it! Now gimme your uniform, and be quick about it! Cause if you don't… you're going to regret it!" Blue flames flicker to life again and lick at your legs.

          Jumping back, you yell at him, "Hey! Stop trying to roast me, you little rat! You're gonna set this whole place ablaze!" 

          You start to hear a muffled yelp from another coffin, accompanied by some commotion from inside. Next thing you know, the lid flies open and out jumps your dearest kouhai, Mash. 

         "Senpai, are you in trouble? I'm here to help!" She rushes over to you with a determined look on her face. 

         "Hey, come on! I'm on a tight schedule here!" 

          More fire spews forth from the cat-like beast and Mash maneuvers you both away from its reach, grabbing your hand and making a run for it. You burst through a set of doors and dash down an open corridor. You pass what seem to be classrooms and a perfectly trimmed courtyard. At last you both flee into a library. It's like one you've never seen before, and there are a couple of books literally floating around. You take a second to catch your breath.

          "Hey, Mash? Do you happen to know where we are? Cause I have no clue." 

          As soon as you finish speaking, you feel a flare of heat and Mash pushes you away from it again. Standing there, looking smug, is the hellspawn. 

          "Foolish humans! Did you really think you could slip away from ME? Now, unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off those– Me-YEOW! That hurt! What gives?"

         Behind Grim stands a pale man, dressed in a suit, holding the offending whip. He hosts a coat with an impressive blue collar and plenty of dark feathers. On his face is a crow-like mask that covers only the top half of his face. The man has beady gold eyes, pointed ears, and wavy black hair. The black top hat on his head has a blue ribbon around the base, with a decorative mirror, keys, and a feather arranged aesthetically. 

        "Consider it tough love," he starts to scold the gray beast. He then turns to you and Mash. "Ah, I've found you at last. Splendid. I trust you both are some of this year's new students? My, were you ever eager to make your debut." He crosses his arms. "And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That is a clear violation of the school's rules."

          His voice rings a bell, but you can't tell why. Also, this does seem to be a school, but not any that you are familiar with. 

          "As if I'd serve some lowly human! Now lemme go!"

          "Yes, yes. Rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet for a bit, won't you?" The mysterious man places a hand over Grim's mouth.

          "Mmmrrph!"

          "Yeah, he's not my familiar, I've never even seen his species before today. If anything, Fou here is more like my familiar than that little guy." You shake your head, disagreeing with the man's assumption, before motioning to the small beast still perched on your shoulder. 

          Unfortunately, it seems he completely ignores you. "Dear me. Of all the students I've dealt with, you two are the first with temerity enough to open their own gates and step out of them." 

           You go to speak up, but he continues to scold you.

           "Does the very notion of patience elude you? No matter. Your orientation has already begun. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber."

           "Uhhh, student? I don't recall signing up for school." You look over at Mash and she shrugs back at you. 

          "You awakened in a room full of gates, did you not? All of the students here at the campus arrived by passing through such gates. Although typically the students have restraint enough to wait until I open them before waking up."

          "Yeah, so, that hellcat totally tried to cremate me within mine, so no way I was staying in there. Then Mash heard the commotion and decided to help me not get roasted alive."

          "Yes, I helped my senpai evade the flames and we ended up running down here." She nods resolutely.

          "Fou-fouuu!"

          "You're the one who insisted on bringing it, so curtailing its behavior is your responsibility!" He raises a hand to his chin, "But now is not the time for such prattle. You've a student orientation to attend! Go on, now. Make haste." 

           You deadpan. He's been prattling this entire time. "Well, first of all, where are we exactly?" 

           Mash nods. "Yes, this does not seem to be the Clocktower, nor the Atlas Institute." 

           "Hm? Have neither of you fully regained consciousness? The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories… Well, these things happen, I suppose. I shall explain it to you while we walk. Truly, my magnanimity is boundless."

         With that the man turns and starts to walk back the way you came, Mash and yourself following after him. However, you both follow at a distance, so you can speak to one another without him hearing. 

         "So far, our situation seems pretty bizarre, but that's not too unordinary for us. I think I remember going to sleep in my bed last night, so I have no clue how we got here; I assume that's the same for you. We don't know where 'here' is yet, he didn't seem to recognize the Clocktower, nor the Atlas Institute. We seem to be in more modern times, considering our surroundings, and they know of magic,  however not of some of the most famous modern magic institutions."

          Mash nods and enters her own input, "These uniforms are not any I recognize either, and the magical energy feels different here. It's not quite on the same scale as the Age of Gods, but not quite the same as our modern magic either. We need to see if we can set up a connection with Chaldea, so we can communicate with them."

          "Let's prioritize finding the nearest leyline, if any, and finding out more information on where we are." 

           Mash nods in response to your order, "Yes, Master, orders received!"

           You find yourselves back in the courtyard when the man begins to speak again, "Ahem. This is Night Raven College. It is an institution for students the world over who demonstrate a rare aptitude for magic. It is the most prestigious academy of its sort in all of Twisted Wonderland. And I am Dire Crowley. Having been entrusted with its care by the chairman, I serve as headmage.” 

“Twisted… Wonderland?” You question, your expression scrunching up in confusion. You and Mash share an inquisitive look, then direct your attention back to Crowley. “And you have magic here?”

“Only those who the Dark Mirror perceives as having a talent for magic are admitted to the college. Those who are selected are summoned to the campus through those “gates”, which can appear anywhere. A black carriage bearing one such gate should have come to meet you.”

This elicits a hum from your throat as you bring a hand up to your mouth in contemplation. What he’s describing sounds like the strange dream or vision that lingers in the recesses of your mind. “I recall a dark forest…” You mutter to yourself. Mash looks at you curiously.

“Senpai?”

“That black carriage serves to receive a student chosen by the Dark Mirror. It too bears a gate that connects to this campus. And, as you know, sending a carriage to meet someone on a special day is a time-honored tradition,” Crowley says matter-of-factly. 

“Huh? Time-honored tradition? Where and since when?” You shake your head in confusion. Mash looks at you and shrugs, looking just as lost as you are. 

Grim starts to fuss at this, squirming in Crowley’s grasp. “Mmfff! Mmmmmmfff!”

“Now, let us attend to your orientation,” the headmage ushers you all along, bringing you all back to the mirror chamber. 

As your group enters, you hear voices speaking, the first of which being a boy with hair as red as a rose and eyes a striking silver. “We’re done with orientation and dorm assignments? All right, new students - let me be clear. At Heartslabyul House, I am the law. Break the rules, and it’s off with your head!” 

The next to speak up is a dark-skinned boy with long, brown hair, sharp green eyes, and lion ears that occasionally twitch, proving their authenticity. It’s a bit odd, as you don’t quite know what he is, but he’s certainly not a Servant. He yawns, looking extremely done with everything. “Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever. I’m going back to the dorm. If you’re in Savanaclaw House, follow me.” 

“New students! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement,” this comes from a boy with glasses, silvery hair and eyes, and a beauty mark near the bottom corner of his mouth. “As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I am honored to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.”

Another voice speaks up to address the group, the owner being a very handsome boy with lilac colored eyes and shiny, blonde hair with purple highlights. “Hey, does anyone know where the headmage went? He disappeared midway through the ceremony…”  He trails off.

Before any from your group can announce your presence, yet another voice chimes in. Though, when you look for the origin, you notice it comes from a floating tablet. “Some headmage he is.” 

“Maybe he had a tummyache?” Another boy with dark skin responds; he has short, white hair and ruby red eyes. 

Crowley finally pipes up, “I most certainly did not!”

“Ah, speak of the devil,” the first boy mutters once more.

Ignoring this, the headmage continues. “If you must know, I was searching for the new students who’d failed to show for orientation. You two are the only ones who have yet to be assigned to a dorm. Step up to the Dark Mirror, and be quick about it. I’ll watch your weasel.” 

Grim growls in response to this.

“Again, not mine, but whatever,” you mutter under your breath as you and Mash step up to the Dark Mirror. 

Mash goes first, gazing deep into the mirror as it sizes her up.

“State your name.” A face that looks more like a mask is present within the mirror, a scowl etched into its features. 

“I am Mash, Mash Kyrielight,” she states, clearly and confidently.

“Mash. The nature of your soul is… unclear to me.”

“What did you just say?” Crowley questions in bewilderment.

“Magic resides in her, this much is true. However, it does not suit this place. The sound of it, its color, and its shape are not any that I’ve bore witness to before. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.” 

Everything is silent for a moment, then the headmage gestures for you to take your place in front of the mirror.

“State your name,” the mirror states again.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/F/N. The nature of your soul… is the same, it does not suit this place.”

Silence takes over once more, then Crowley asks, “Are you suggesting that the black carriage went to retrieve two people who are incompatible? But that is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence! How could this have happened?” He brings his hand up to his face curiously.

Grim struggles until he frees himself. “Mmmph! Nnnrgggh… ME! Let ME have this student’s seat!” 

The headmage glares at the small beast, “Not so fast, you hyperactive weasel!”

“Unlike those humans, I totally belong here! So let me be a student here!” Grim crosses his arms with a smirk. “Look, I’ll show you! My spells’re the cat’s meow!”

Almost as if sensing the coming chaos, the red haired boy shouts out in warning, “Everyone, get down!”

With what seems to be his best attempt at a roar, Grim unleashes a burst of blue flames within the room. Mash quickly covers you with her body, materializing into her Servant’s attire and manifesting her shield. 

The boy with red eyes begins to yell. “AHHHHH! HELP! I’m on fire over here!” He frantically hops about, his tail end smoking. You rush over to help pat out the flame. 

“Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school ablaze!” The headmage shouts out.

The boy with the lion ears sighs, “Ugh. Can I go now, or…?”

“Oh? I thought you fancied yourself a hunter. Go and help yourself to that plump little morsel!” The handsome boy raises a brow with a smirk.

“Too much effort. Do it yourself,” the lion eared boy immediately quips back.

“Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley. If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.” Magnanimously, the boy with the glasses offers.

“WTG Azul. Rackin’ up those participation credits,” the tablet sounds off.

The boy with the red eyes looks at you with a bright smile. “Ah! Thank you! You really saved me there!”

“I’m sorry, were my instructions unclear?!” Crowley exclaims, frustrated. 

Entirely uncaring, the green eyed boy responds, “Preeetty sure you can handle catching one mangy weasel all on your lonesome there, headmage.” 

  “How many times do I gotta say it? I’m Grim, spellcaster extraordinaire! I am NOT a weasel!” The offending creature continues to run his mouth, much to all of your chagrin. 

Azul chimes in, “Aren’t you a spunky little fellow? Riddle, would you be so kind…?”

“Furry miscreant. I will abide no rule-breaking. You will be judged by my hand.” 

Riddle and Azul begin to chase after the creature and you turn to look at Mash. “Mash, go and help them. I’ll stay and help out here!”

“Orders received, Master!” And with that, Mash runs off to aid the two mages in subduing the cat beast. 

**I do not own Disney's Twisted Wonderland, Fate: Grand Order, or any of the characters present in either series, all proper rights belong to the proper owners.**

[mmmmalo]

Rambling.

The panels scattered across Scratch's floor tend to be thematically united, I tend to think. Page 4019 we see Dave v Gamzee, the Genesis Frog, and one of Terezi's Cool Kid edits. Though a representation of Dave, the Cool Kid's arms are held forward in a manner akin to the adjacent frog, formally inviting the comparison. The substance of their resemblance seems to be self-hatred: as Karkat declares Noir the cancer, a hostile self-division, Spades Slick gazes upon Bilious Slick through a veil of icy water, as though staring into a mirror with murderous intent.* This abstract image of self-hatred is grounded by Karkat's standard declarations of totalizing guilt. Meanwhile Gamzee introduces hostile objects into the dream chambers of John and Dave, thereby introducing antagonistic self-divisions into their psyches. This is paralleled by the "schizophrenic bullshit" Dave observes in Gamzee, his split-vocalizations and (perhaps more importantly) his sense that he has become what he hates: a non-believer, in his case.

I find it interesting that the link to the Miracles video that sets off Gamzee's crisis should exist on the same page as one of the comic's rare f-bombs ("lol @ u fagz"). It gives me the sense that Gamzee's role as heretic punishing non-believers collides with his role as one of the comic's gay homophobes -- Gamzee punishing Equius and Nepeta for swapping clothes (despite wearing Terezi's glasses) is my go-to example, though Karkat considerately calls Gamzee an "idiot in makeup" to remind us that clowns function as symbols of gender deviance. Might explain why Gamzee's log is bookended on either side with gay shit (kissing Tavros's head, flirting with Dave)

*it would be cool if this were why the frog head of the temple got replace by Bec's visage -- they were synonymous from the start. Bec's head is sort of drawn like a frog anyway, with the frogs rounded cheeks cut in half to suggest tufts of hair, the upward bulging, rounded eyes cut in half to suggest wolven ears. Bec's murder of the mystery frog would come to look vaguely suicidal, perhaps echoing Jade's perception of the death of Grandpa... anyway,

[lirotation]

I Hail from Silverymoon: The Mirror Image

Pov my little fanfiction: Astarion x Amaara (my human wizard Tav). At last, some fluff, even if he is not quite there yet.

________________

Amaara approached Astarion's tent and paused, her eyes drawn to his back as he gazed into a small mirror. Sensing her presence, he asked without turning, "See something you like?"

Flustered at being caught staring, she stammered, "How did you…"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you." he said wryly.

"Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?" Amaara asked gently.

He turned to her, bitterness in his voice. "Preening in the looking glass? petty vanity? Of course I miss it." His tone gained an edge as he went on. "I've never even seen this face, not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

"What color were they before?" Curiosity was piqued. She had trouble picturing him with any but his striking red gaze. Maybe he had elf-spring colored eyes just like herself?

"I…I don't know." He looked down, shocked by the fact, pain flickered across his features, "I can't remember." Angrily he flung the mirror away. "My face is just some dark shape from my past. Another thing I've lost"

Seeing his anguish, Amaara's heart ached for him. She sensed the sadness and frustration he felt now that this simple mundane act of seeing oneself is denied to him. She could see that this is more than about petty vanity - he felt a sense of loss - of his old mortal self and identity that he can no longer see or recall clearly. She offered a reassuring smile. "For what it's worth, I find you have a very fine face, with piercing eyes and a dangerous smile. You fear this face a stranger's, but in my eyes, it is the beautiful visage of one who persevered." A blush colored her cheeks. "I could conjure a figment of you if you wish?"

Surprised, Astarion nodded. With a graceful gesture, Amaara conjured a mirror image of him. He examined it intensely, as if struggling to recognize himself. Slowly, he reached out a hand to the illusion, not quite touching it. For a moment, raw vulnerability crossed his face.

"You have not changed as much as you fear," Amaara said gently in Elvish, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance, "am I right?" Stepping closer, she planted a gentle kiss on the illusion's cheek. "I have the most beautiful man in the realms all to myself." Her smile grew even brighter as she saw him slowly relaxing, "I am the luckiest girl on Faerûn."

The tension in Astarion's frame eased as Amaara regarded the illusion fondly, her affection palpable. Though the figment was but a spell, it had stirred long dormant memories within him. Amaara's gentle reassurance was enough to banish the bitter shadows of all he had lost, if temporarily.

Her hopeful gaze seemed to see past his walls to hidden depths he wished kept concealed. But for this moment, he let down his guard and simply enjoyed her soothing presence.

[somnolenthour]

Unlikely meeting

Cws:Animal death, unchecked mental illness

College!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Oc

Patrick stared at the beast before him, forever frozen in time in the moment it left its mortal coil. He should be socializing with others like his father instructed him to, but he took a brief break in the smoking room, surprised it was open to the public. The elk's glass eyes glazed over, mouth open to simulate an agonized cry. In a way, it was a work of art.

A hardbody woman, black, holding an empty snifter in one approached the animal, a look of pride reflected in her eyes. Patrick noted the Vivienne Westwood cotton jersey dress and black stockings paired with Westwood pumps to match. Modern, artistic.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Her voice was low, hypnotized by the visage of death before her.

"Bit intense, but I'm sure that's the point." He wondered who the girl was but needed the right opening to ask.

"It was." She tucked her curly hair behind her ear, and a smile spread across her lips. "I chased it for hours..."

He raised a brow, usually not listening but made an exception since she now piqued his interest.

"It was strong, tried to fight the inevitable. So I sped up the process -" A manicured finger pointed to a slit across the Elk's throat, and Patrick could imagine this woman delighting in digging into the creature's entrails and letting it stain her skin. The image brought a rare tingle of excitement to his chest, making his heart pound. Instead of showing his excitement, he turned to her again and returned her smile to match her excitement.

"Patrick Bateman." He introduced himself.

"Belladonna Lewa." Patrick almost dropped his drink at the mention of her surname, her father (and the host of this party) had the influence to tank all of New York in a night and still have money to wipe his ass with, and he's here talking about dead animals with his daughter. Patrick hoped his palms would dry just enough before he shook her hand. "Are you in college too?"

"Harvard, third year." He could imagine cutting away her dress like issue paper.

"Yale, second year." Her eyes were staring directly into his.

If he were lucky, he'd have her. He already felt a connection sparking.

[the-trinket-witch]

💬

(CW: themes of misgendering, psychological torture, Death of a parent, and Aadesh being an unfiltered bastard)

"It’s a bit funny, really. The face of the one he hates, who destroyed the loves of his life, watching him. Imitating him. Pretending to be him. Looking at him while they rip away every last piece of his wife he still sees in them."

Aadesh Had Enough. Enough games, of keeping the visage of the polite counselor, of having Albert and the Prefect snooping through his business. And now, he had enough fun breaking down the young man who'd snuck into his office. He had Albert, pinned close in his tail and unable to call for help with the scarf now curled tight around his throat. The Doctor's grin only further split his face inhumanly wide with each attempt to wriggle free. That ancestral prey-drive made his tail clamp tighter, as he further wrenched the young man's arm up where he couldn't shove him.

"Do you really want to know what Jon sees when he looks at you?"

Claws dug into Albert's scalp. Their hold kept him from looking anywhere else but at that Seven-awful kaleidoscope in the Doctor's eyes. Far too late to try screwing his eyes shut. The magic compelled him to keep looking. As the Silver Mist rolled in over his mind, The mental images came flooding in.

A small curly-haired child tugging excitedly at a man's coat sleeve. That same child, experimenting with hairstyles, thoughtlessly fracturing their wrist in an overzealous attempt in learning to fly by umbrella. A teenager, 'surprising' their father with what remained of their previously beautiful head of hair, now shaven down in some attempt to look masculine. To look like him. That same child, sent to Royal Sword only at the blessing of his wife. St Winnifred's would have been better. That child that was supposed to be his, now unrecognizable as they slouched over Maria's hospital bed. Eyebags; something Jon was familiar with in his own reflection, making it now so much more difficult to see his wife in the face of 'Albert'. "Go home, get some rest. She'll be fine." There was that teen claiming to be his son at the funeral, quietly weeping in a suit that didn't fit. Like every child first trying on their parent's clothes. Just another chip taken off the memory of what Jon use to have, what he worked himself to the bone for every day. Every visit becoming another reminder of what he was losing; every memory becoming a grain of sand in a sieve. And Albert, in Jon's eyes, was actively jostling it, to make more memories slip through his fingers.

It didn't matter to Aadesh he'd only dropped Albert to theta-wave levels of brain activity; his spell had done its job. The dream-induced panic twisting the young man's face was a show in itself. But the show had to end before his next appointment. The Doctor reclaimed his scarf and adjusted his glasses as his tail let the man crash limply to the carpet.

"Ssstay. Out. of my. Business," Aadesh warned, crouching low even as Albert shuddered to his hands and knees. Al's glasses had fallen off, but through a sheen of tears he could still make out the Councelor's form strut back out the door.

And in a horrifying little coincidink, I had been meaning to subject Albert to The Hypnotic Horrors for a bit, so here's a little bit of that doodled out as lighting practice.

Taglist: (lemme know if you want added or removed)

@ceruleancattail @squidwen @thecosmicjackalope @vaporvipermedia@writing-heiress

@oya-oya-okay @k-looking-glass-house@thehollowwriter@rainesol @cyn-write

@heartscrypt@honey-milk-depresso @br3adtoasty @jackiecronefield @ruggiethethuggie

@demonichikikomori @hoboyherewego @achy-boo @oreoskys@oseathepebble

@tunabesimpin @hamstergal @fumikomiyasaki@valse-a-mille-temps

@hallowed-delights @kimikitti @plutos-hell @thetwstwildcard @atwstedstory

@comingyourlugubriousness @ice-cweam-sod4 @twst-the-night-away @nammanarin

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤~°Testify°~¤

-

《Chapter 7 Based》

_

You felt like shit.

You swallow your cries, wallowing outside of Ramshackle. The floorboard creaking under you as your knees buckle underneath your weight. Dropping un-gracefully on the steps of your dorm.

Gazing up at the dotted sky, you swore you saw green lighting near by.

Playing it off as your imagination, you focused on the sky.

Each little light, you trace them in your mind to make a shape. You laughed at a few images you made. One being a rose, the other a octopus with glasses.

The last one however, made you want to vomit and cry at the same time.

What you saw in the stars was Yuu, smiling brightly with you and the first year squad. With poor, sweet Grim swiping at Ace's air while Yuu trying to stop him.

Looking away, you let your fingers tap on the wood of the stairs. Creating a small rhythm to pass the time and hopefully forget what happened between you and Yuu.

"Children of.."

Quickly gazing up at the new voice. You find yourself staring at the bright emerald eyes of Malleus Draconia.

A soft green glow illuminated his visage. His lips pulled into a frown while his head had a small tilt. He was curious, from what you could tell.

Most of the time, it was Yuu and you.

Sometimes you and him, where'd you wait impatiently and smother him in laughter and shy affectionate touches. (Hugs and hand holding.)

So, in his many years of living, it suprised him. To see someone like you, "down in the dumps", as Lilia says.

"(Y/N), what is the matter?"

The dark fae questioned, slowly sitting down beside you, wanting you to understand you better. His firefly protectors buzzing about right next to you.

"Malleus... Have you ever felt as if.. No, have you.. Ahhhhhgg!"

You scream, pulling at your hair frustratingly.

With widen eyes Malleus pulls your hands away from your scalp.

"(Y/N), your acting differently today. What is the matter?"

He stated calmly, with hints of authority in his voice. His hands squeezing your own in mid-air. You let out a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together before the wall that was holding in your tears broke.

"I'm.. I'm scared. Okay..?"

"Of?" Malleus asked gently, lowering your hands on your lap as he traced small soothing circles on your palms. A technique you had shown him many nights before.

"Losing.. I'm scared of losing Yuu, my friends, you.."

You say quietly, your hands becoming clammy and jittery by the minute.

"Yuu.. Yuu thinks that this talking mouse in the mirror of Ramshackle is gonna take us home.. But what if.."

"If..?"

"What if that isn't our home, what if Yuu only finds a way home and I can't? Or if there home doesn't exist?! I don't think Yuu should take a risk like that! I don't think I... Could take a risk like that."

You croak out, grasping his shirt collar without a ounce of fear. Hoping for a answer, a sentence, a word, something to calm your racing heart!

Malleus only sighs, caressing your hair carefully as your fingers lose their grip. Your body becoming lax in his hold. Mind fuzzy and mushy as the sound of sweet humming filled your head.

Tears roll down your face as they make contact with Malleus bright green uniform.

With little strength your foggy mind had left. You remember what happened between you and Yuu.

-

"(Y/N), this could be our chance!" Yuu exclaimed excitedly, "if Micky knows where our home is, we can-!"

"-Yuu, what if he's wrong?"

Yuu stops prancing around the parlor room, staring at you.

"What do you mean? He can't be-"

"Yuu, you can't just trust, this-this mouse? What happens if he's lying to you. You can't take that chance!"

"I have to, I need to find a way back home! I need to remember who I am!" Yuu yelled.

"Aren't you willing to take that chance? I thought you would of all people would understand!"

"I.. I..Can't." You whimper, your head overwriting your heart.

"I'm not just gonna stand by and trust some stranger that says he knows how to get home. And it's stupid that you do!" You shout, gasping after as you cover your mouth.

Shocked at a teary-eyed Yuu, shaking in place as they lower their eyes to the floor.

Yuu doesn't say anymore, running out of Ramshackle quickly, shutting the wood door hard after.

"I'm sorry.."

-

《Let these thorns ensnare your heart until you can fully be mine.》

-

[Chapter seven here we come... Comments, hearts, reblogs and asks are welcomed! Enjoy!]

[pwlanier]

Life size wax head of a melancholy insane woman, English, 1910-1940. Probably made in the 1930s for an exhibit at Henry Wellcome’s Historical Medical Museum. Records from the museum suggest that wax models of ‘madwomen’ and ‘madmen’ were displayed with replicas (also in our collection) of manacles and restraints used in the early 1800s at Hanwell Asylum.

Is this what ‘madness’ looks like? This lifelike wax head, with its stringy black hair and bulging glass eyes, was probably made in the 1930s for an exhibit at Henry Wellcome’s Historical Medical Museum. Records from the museum suggest that wax models of ‘madwomen’ and ‘madmen’ were displayed with replicas of manacles and restraints used in the early 1800s at Hanwell Asylum, West London. The wooden stick at the base of this wax head suggests that it did once sit atop a life-size body, now lost.

To an audience of the 1930s, this woman’s face would have immediately called to mind the ‘madwoman in the attic’ – the violent and deranged female character who haunted the edges of many Victorian novels. Compare the head with this excerpt from Charlotte Brontë’s Gothic romance Jane Eyre, where the heroine of gets her first good look at the ‘lunatic’ wife of Mr. Rochester: ‘What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell.... but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.... The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors.’ Some asylum physicians in Victorian England used the popular image of the dishevelled, animal-like, house-bound ‘madwoman’ to argue that women with mental illness should always be treated in asylums rather than kept at home.

[shadowqueenjude]

Coriolanus Snow completes another kill; takes place after TBOSAS.

Coriolanus held his child in his arms, trying to quell the sorrow of his heart. The baby possessed light blue eyes and blonde ringlets that tempted you to twirl them around your finger. It was too early to tell now, but it seemed as if the boy had inherited none of his mother’s traits. Good.

If you had told Coriolanus a decade ago that he’d be president of Panem and married to Livia Cardew, he would’ve been shocked, but not because of the former. Sure, he had been poverty-ridden, but he was intelligent, and that scholarship would’ve catapulted him to University as one of the finest prospects of the Academy. His family was an old name in the Capitol; would it really be so shocking for him to become President? They’d been calling him future president at home since he was around 10. No, the shock was that he’d stoop so low as to marry that…vile old hag. Entitled egotistical sadistic bitch. God, he abhorred her. He had determined that marrying her would assure that his spouse would never be able to affect him, never be able to make him lose control like…she had.

He couldn’t even think her name in his mind, desiring to forget her, but her lovely visage came to his mind anyway.

Breathe. Breathe.

Coryo willed the image to fade. Willed himself to forget that fateful day in the woods and return to the present. Unfortunately, Coriolanus had made one serious miscalculation: marrying someone you thoroughly despised meant you would constantly be…annoyed. He preferred the annoyance to the intensity of his previous relationship, but he’d rather not feel anything at all. Marriage and children were good for his image, but now he knew marriage was a curse. Relationships were a mistake. One should strive to be content on one’s own and not seek solace in others; they’ll only destroy you.

He could not even bring himself to bed her without bringing another woman’s image to his mind (though he still refused to speak her name), for he knew if his mind felt he were having sex with Livia Cardew, his very bones would wither with disgust. As soon as she came down with child, Coriolanus had stopped all intimate relations, leaving her to wander about and stay far, far away from him. Unfortunately, even the idea of her existence irritated him to no end. When he saw bills indicating she had spent his money, his mind filled with rage, remember those days he was starving, nary a cent to his name, and that horrid bimbo had laughed at his orphaned state. What a hypocrite; she hadn’t even hesitated to marry him when he’d proposed.

He hadn’t bothered with courting her; he hadn’t even bought a ring. A couple of years out of University, he’d simply asked her point blank to marry him.

“We were well-suited for each other. Two families of noble blood united as o-“ He hadn’t even finished his sentence when she had began squealing. “Yes! Yes yes yes! I can’t wait to go tell momma!” She had leapt into his arms, and it took all of Coriolanus’s willpower not to cringe away from her, to lightly pat her back and act overjoyed to be getting married.

How could one person be so disgusting? Coriolanus was starting to think that maybe the cannibal would’ve been a more suitable choice for a bride. Well, too late. She’d already given him a child. She had served her purpose. She could now serve a greater purpose by making him look sympathetic and more loved by the Capitol. He went to his cabinet and pulled out the familiar substance. Poison: simple but effective. He had advised her to use it in the Hunger Games and he had not wavered since. Why fix what isn’t broken? Smiling, he poured wine into two glasses, putting the poison in one while also adding a little bit to his own cup. However, he kept the antidote on him. Oh, he couldn’t contain his joy that he’d soon be rid of Livia at last. The woman, of course, liked to think that everything was about her, so Coriolanus obliged her, flattering her sensibilities. “Why are you so excited, Coryo?” The twisted psychopath asked brightly, scarfing down garlic bread like an animal. Had she no decorum? Even with not a penny to his name, Coriolanus had carried himself with grace. And that name…

That name is not for you. Only family can call me that. Like Grandma’am and Tigris. And Lucy Gray.

Her name in his thoughts was like a punch to the gut. He tried to keep the memories from flooding him, but they came all the same, haunting him one after another-

A practiced smile formed on his face. “Just overjoyed to see my beautiful wife.” Lie lie lie. He was never happy to see her. And her twisted, pointed little face would never be beautiful. Not like hers.

Coriolanus handed her the heavily poisoned glass of wine, controlling the wild glee from showing in his face. Livia was a greedy drinker; she’d likely consume it all in one gulp and die very quickly. Coriolanus primly took a small sip of his, wincing at the poison. He looked over at Livia. Sure enough, she had fallen to the ground, convulsing. Coriolanus stepped around the glass shards, bending over his wife. “What do you think, wife? Am I still that orphaned loser from that playground?” Her mouth began to foam, and she could not form words, only stare at him in wide eyed horror. Coryo spat in her face. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare bestow the same fate as me upon my child.” He pulled out the antidote and took a small swig. “He’ll have me to look after him.” He got on his knees and let his lips hover just above hers as he crooned, “Snow lands on top.”

Then her heart stopped beating. His 12th kill. Once he was sure she was dead, he cried for help. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP HERE!” His own lips had swelled up from the small amount of poison he’d consumed, so no one would dare suspect him. He was the President, anyhow. His word was law. The Peacekeepers rushed into the room. Coriolanus knew the routine. “President, are you alright?” Coriolanus nodded, channeling the agonized husband. “Not me-help my wife-help her-please-“

Some might call him a monster, but Livia had tormented him practically since birth, and her parents had been perfectly happy to sit on their money while countless others starved. She deserved this. If Coriolanus said it, it was correct. He was the President, which meant one thing: he was judge, jury, and executioner. Even his son was silent through it all, happily sleeping in his crib. As if he too knew that he was better off without the pathetic excuse for a woman that birthed him. He would make the perfect heir to his legacy. To continue their tradition.

Snow lands on top.