#I hope it's entertaining or enlighteing

[hellcifrogs]

Okay. alright, I needed a separate post to go in detail, because now I'm pumped! BTW I only quickly looked up the bijuus’ references to have some guidance, so they might not be all exact, I also went a bit by their appearaces alone.

Unfortunately I can’t fit the number of tails, but this is a great excuse for me to ramble about these lovely myths to anyone interested.

Ichibi Shukaku, the shapeshifting tanuki - I might be probably forgeting some, but I decided to go with an animal I like. It kinda matches how bloodthirsty Shukaku was in the begining, but it’s a bird instead. Matinta Pereira is a little owl (sometimes mistaken or also described as a potoo) that brings the news of death. Sometimes it takes the shape of a witch, other times is an old man seeking petty regenge. Another nice detail: since both tanukis and kitsunes are somewhat tricksters, the Matinta is actually sometimes related to the creature I chose for Kyuubi too.

Nibi Matatabi, the cat ghost - The obvious here would be to go with the Alma-de-gato (Cat soul) which is literally a shadow or spectral cat that appears to haunt children who misbehave, silently staring into their souls with (literal) burning eyes. Totally fits and I’d be happy with it. BUT if we take what looks the most like the beast in the series and just overall vibe, I’d have to go with Boitatá. Nothing to do with cats, just a giant fire snake with its body covered in eyes. This myth is actually closely related to the will-o'-wisp so many times the fire is made blue

Anon says “Boitatá would make a fucking awesome bijuu let’s be honest” and that is true! Boitatá IS one of my favorite myths for a reason! Not only it looks badass the legend says the snake protects fields and forests from anyone trying to set illegal fires by blinding them, or driving them into madness or just straight up killing them.

Sanbi Isobu, the sea demon - Here I picked the Ipupiará who’s basically another sea demon, though more humanoid, kind of resembling a mermaid, but more of a walrus shaped one. There are multiple stories and creatures similar to this one, but I like the older and more murderous version for this. Option TWO is another one of my favorites (another giant snake, of course it’s another snake): Boiúna, the black snake. A huge, river long, pitch black snake with flame red eyes, that just scares anyone living by the rivers by sinking ships or straight up swallowing them. Neither of these has any moral or motivation, they’re just beasts.

Yonbi Son Goku, the monkey king - For this one I went with the idea of an “Imposing monkey-like creature” and got: Mapinguari, this huge, smelly, man devouring monster. These monsters, mostly known in the amazon region, easily stand at over 2 meters tall, sometimes depicted with a single eye in the forehead and with a huge mouth full of razor sharp teeth stretching all the way to the bellybutton. They attract the prey by screaming like desperate humans and deceiving people to go help. To have this one as a source of power is nice, but wouldn’t be nearly as respectable as the original.

Gobi Kokuou, Hanging horse head and ghost whale - Okay so a horse. that’s easy: Mula sem cabeça, literally a Headless horse, with fire coming out of its neck. This one is widely known in the country so it has many MANY variations, but the shape is what matters here, so ‘only head horse’ for ‘no head horse’. Not sure how to fit the whale ghost part :(

Rokubi Saiken, the shellfish ogre - Alamoa! I’ve been told not many people know about this one?? But searching for this shellfish ogre, the wiki description fits quite perfectly with the Alamoa. She is a storm (thunder? lightning?) ghost, who appears on stormy nights dancing naked in the beaches of Fernando de Noronha. She is very pale and with near white blonde hair and attracts fishermen with her beauty and treasures, only to trap them and turn into an skeleton before killing them.

Nanabi Choumei, a rhinoceros beetle - This one was surprisingly hard, but let’s go with a simple one: Minhocão (literally big worm). Huge worm like creature living in rivers or underground that also goes around sinking ships. I would also take the ‘lucky seven’ joke and turn it around by using Caapora (out of the numerous names, this is the one I’m most familiar with), who is said to bring bad luck! Caapora can be an angry little girl, a creature with red skin and hair or even a cyclops, they ride a boar (queixada) and cause depression and bad luck to whoever meets them.

Hachibi Gyuki, the cow demon - Immediate choice: Boi Bumbá (with many name variations). It’s an annual performance/celebration telling the story of death and ressucitation of an ox. There’s a lot of dance and colorful outfits involved so it makes for a nice visual for a magical beast. BUT I also remembered a more regional one called Boi Vaquim: a winged bull with golden horns and diamonds for eyes that spits fire. How badass is that?

Fun fact: ‘boi’ is the actual portuguese word for bull/ox, but in native tupí language ‘boi’ stands for snake so we have the snakes boitatá and boiúna.

Kyuubi Kurama, the kitsune - Absolutely NOTHING to do with foxes, but I’m going to pick Saci! Simply for the trickster nature. Sacis are probably the most famous supernatural creature in brazilian mythology. They vary in shape (can be human or have goat horns and beard or bird foot), size (from tiny little fairies living in flowers to 2m tall with scales and claws), power (can create small tornadoes, grant wishes, spoil food), nature (they go from harmless and inconvenient pranks to kidnapping children and beating up animals to death), but the base look is of a pitch black humanoid creature - most times a black boy - with a single leg and red pointy hat. Option two for visuals: Maned wolf.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Famished - Gyutaro x Reader

Summary: When Gyutaro is haunted by memories of his past, he decides hunting them instead.

"Everything I ever let go of has claw marks on it." ~ D. F. Wallace

Warnings: Angst, Self-Loathing, SHB, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Canon-Typical Violence

Notes: Fem! Sex Worker! Reader, Aged Up Characters, Canon Divergence, a rly long Monologue at the beginning

Words: ~5100

A/N: As always, this mess is not proofread. And the Tumblr App is glitching soo...

Demons do not dream.

To be precize, no sleep at all would interrupt their whole, tragic existence - and Gyutaro was no exception.

However, no matter how desperately he would attempt to banish the last bit of humanity left inside of him, one part of it would always remain: The farce that was his nightmarish past.

A memory.

It was scratching on the surface of his soul like a nail on a chalkboard, threatening to re-emerge without ever actually succeeding to do so.

But this one was different, that much he could tell.

If Gyutaro would believe in something like a soul, he'd describe this feeling as a tiny ember - glimmering weakly in his otherwise empty mind, which had been darkened by the hatred that dominated his whole being.

That particular memory was almost seeming to fight desperately, trying to enlight the pitch black spot that was once his heart, tainted by the cruel way of his upbringing.

It was weird, really - because from his very first breath after turning into this new, vile lifeform, most of his former life was forgotten.

The Master once explained that the reasons for this phenomenom can differ, but in his case it was probably out of his own wish to have those painful memories erased, starting anew.

And as the years of his demonic existence passed, all details from what he had left behind vanished more and more. Only vague ideas and feelings he was unable to suppress would remain...

...for example, the burning desire to even out the scales of fortune and misfortune, that is.

Gyutaro was almost certain that he was doomed from the very start, having lost every ounce of hope at a young age. All that was left from the young man he once was were those taunting, agonizing emotions. They were making him even more bitter and misanthropic than he already was - and which he could only soothe by making others feel just the same.

As he was now, the demon had killed all emotion and ties that weren't connected to his sister. He wouldn't care about when or how his life was going to end, for he knew the destination was hell either way - and it couldn't be worse than the things he had already endured.

"The one that takes" they dared to call him in the shadows of the Entertainment District, and he took great pride in this name. For it was more than just a description of himself - it was a threat...

...a threat that now, it was his time to take what he was never granted, and the only thing he would give the people that wronged him would be their own fair share of pain.

Justice is but a concept, and even if it existed, it never favoured Gyutaro - so he would personally restore balance of fate itself.

Demon Slayers would kill beings they ought to be evil - but who was taking care of humans, whose potential for evil was almost equally high? That was the role Gyutaro wanted to play.

The strong devour the weak. It had always been just like this...

...but now the weak have grown strong, and they are ready to get back at those who made their life a living hell!

However, even someone as numb as himself could have relapses, as it seemed. Just like on some nights like those, when Gyutaro was unable to shun out those nagging thoughts, his subconsciousness screaming at him to remember this crucial, most important thing.

But no matter how much he racked his brain around it, all fragments of his past would only lead to dead ends.

Pain and violence alike had always been the boys steady - and only - companions, anger and jealousy having become his teachers...

...at least until the birth of his younger sister gave him a new perspective. Asides from that, he had nothing.

No reason to live for.

No dreams or hopes to look forwards to.

No one to keep going on for, no matter the circumstances.

Yes, his little sister was indeed the only thing that saved him. He had to keep working hard, functioning for her sake at least. Protect her - his only drive and purpose.

No!

It wasn't true. Something he was missing out - but what?

There was someone before Ume. Someone important, his guts told him that much as they twisted painfully with every thought he spent on this topic.

So why wouldn't he remember, no matter how hard he was trying?!

Probably because it was so absurd.

In the end, the demon concluded that his twisted mind most likely made something up out of thin air - a thought to cling on, to prevent himself from breaking down completely.

And yet, nothing of this made any sense to him.

Used to be treated with nothing but distgust and resentment by others, Gyutaro never understood how anyone could behave any different towards him. To him it had become natural, his only reality...

...and yet, that feeling blossoming in his chest wouldn't cease. It was a sensation so unfamiliar that remembering it would frighten even this horrifying demon he had become.

A person had been kind to him in the past...but who? Why? How?

No matter how much time passed, even as the weeks ever since his transformation turned into years, those thoughts would eat on him like a parasyte.

So many questions, and no way to begin finding answers to them. It was as if the tiny, dying part of himself that remained human was laying out traces for him, one after another:

Flashing memories, too short to fully grasp them before the brief moment in his mind was over again. His senses remembering the touch, smell, taste of something more addicting than the flesh of his prey could ever be. A voice, so tender and laced with honest affection, almost as if whispering inside of his own core.

Gyutaro was accustomed to all kinds of pain, but this one was torture even by his standarts. Every nerve was on fire, yearning for those tiny bits of honest affection, no matter where it came from.

Whatever had caused those memories, they were imprinted in his heart as if someone carved them into his heart, leaving nothing but scars.

And eventually, on a certain, fateful night, he finally put the pieces together. It was a full moon as Gyutaro was lurking inside Daki's body to pick a new victim for tonights feast...

...but what he found was you.

Just one image, for the fraction of a second until you had already turned around and made your leave again - but it was enough to awaken that turmoil of emotions once again. There was no time to collect himself as the walls in his mind crumbled down, a tide of painful memories flooding his heart.

"Y-Y/N...yeah, her name was Y/N! My dear, lovely, pretty Y/N!"

Daki immediately began to scream her lungs out, overwhelmed due to being affected by those unfamiliar sentiments, long since forgotten. It didn't take long until everyone would immediately rush to "Warabihime's" side, who was currently unconscious as she had fainted from the mental pressure.

That was just how strongly Gyutaro was still feeling for you, after all those years. Now it was all clear in front of his inner eye - how could he ever have forgotten?!?

You were just the same as him, after all, even though not in every aspect. But pleasure and pain were always close together in the streets of the Lowest Part of the Entertainment District, after all...

When you were only five years old, those persons you wouldn't even call your 'parents' anymore finally sold you to a Minor House, chaining you to a life of paying off their tremendous debts. They had ruined your life before it even really started, and yet you were glad to escape their sheer endless abuse.

Some would call you blessed, with a face like some piece of art -which could both be your advantage and doom, considering the environment you were forced to grow up from now on. Yet the other woman set high hopes in you earning them good money, so you were always favoured and well cared for during your education.

Gyutaro on the other hand was suffering ever since he could remember, every single day being a fight for survival while no one would bid the poor boy a single ounce of sympathy...

...except for you.

It was on a harsh summer day, he believed, when he found himself close to starvation once again. He was all alone in a lonely, uncommon alley of the poverty quarter - the only way he'd get shelter from the burning sun and rage of the other inhabitants.

Debating whether it was a good idea to risk food poisoning again, his overwhelming hunger convinced Gyutaro to try anything. He'd start catching the flies swarming around him, gulping them down as if to tell them it was not his time to become their food just yet.

How often had the boy been beaten up by both children and adults for his blatant ugliness, even though he obviousl wasn't at fault for being born the way he was? Or maybe they thought his looks to be an Omen, a punishment by the gods itself, who knows...

However, their behavior shaped him in a certain way, by making him choose his philosophy: No matter how beautiful someone's outer shell - the prettier they are, the more rotten on the inside.

He tended to despise those born with attributes he wished to possess himself - but you were different from the very beginning...

...since in this darkest of hours, a girl about his age came up to him - a mere filthy, worthless boy - and offered to help.

Gyutaro remembered being stunned, overwhelmed, scared: Just how often had people acted nice to raise his hopes, only to reveal the reason being a cruel joke or a childish dare?

And with your stunning beauty, soothing his sore eyes, it was certain that you couldn't be a good person at heart. So he remained silent, tried to ignore that most magnificent face right next to him until you'd show your lower motives.

Why were you so close, without being scared or grossed out in any way? Gyutaro would scan your face for any hints, but all he saw was a shy yet sincere smile, and it felt like it was kicking the air out of his lungs.

For a while, you'd sit there in uncomfortable silence, giving the boy some time to get used to your presence until you reached into your small bag and offered him something to eat. It wasn't much, but you knew he needed it more than you did, and you certainly would get more once you'd come home.

The boy quickly snatched the loaf of bread out of your hands, his empty stomach too painful to waste a single thought on it being poisoned. He teared it apart as good as he could, stuffing the food in his mouth like a wild animal.

"Not so fast" you whispered a little held back, just to be met with furious eyes. Taken aback, you shuffled away a little. "You're going to choke. Here, have some water first!"

He gulped down the bottle in one go, strands of dry, unkempt hair falling into his face while you unsuccessfully tried to communicate with the boy in any way.

The child next to you was probably just your age, yet way smaller and almost lethally emaciated. His whole body was covered in stork marks, only a few crooked and rotten teeth remaining in his mouth. The ragged, dirty fabric on his body couldn't even be recognized as clothing, and you were almost certain to see flees climbing across his body.

It was hard to gain his trust just from that one little act of kindness, and for a while you were unsure if the child was even able to speak - all you knew was that it hurt you to see someone this way.

"I will come back tomorrow" you had told him that day, only able to hope that he understood. "Same time same place."

Gyutaro expected nothing - neither from you, nor the rest of the world...

...yet the tingly feeling during the short time you spent together that afternoon was unlike anything he had ever experienced - and it was haunting him ever since, reveling in it even when he returned home to a beating of his own mother.

Over the following months, you would keep your promise and always meet the strange boy in the same empty alleyway, gracing him with your presence while sharing your rations with him.

"Gyutaro" was his name, and you treasured it ever since he finally started speaking with you. He was ashamed of his voice, this much he let you know during your brief conversations, but it was alright. You'd understand each other without any words, mostly just enjoying each other's presence in silence.

You would steal food from your home to bring him, were tending to his wounds and never even once left his side when times were especially hard. Most of the time you'd speak about topics he would not understand, but it didn't matter as the time with you was his only escape from this otherwise cruel world.

There was no way to express his deep thankfullness either way, and he wouldn't need to. Seeing him return to meet you, knowing him to be save and surviving another day was more than you ever needed. And soon, Gyutaro would truly start to open up to you - slowly but steadily.

Over time, the place between dirt and garbage has become something like a hideout for the two of you - since no one shall ever know about your secret friendship. If anyone of the house would know why you were wasting so much time on your errands, they would certainly punish him for it instead of yourself!

In the whole district, everyone else knew better than to associate with this violent troublemaker, avoiding him at any cost - it went so far as people telling horror stories about Gyutaro, to keep their children away from him. But you admired the quiet and hardworking young fighter, knowing behind the hard shell he built there was heart of gold hidden beneath.

Even though he was poor and not favoured by any luck, he was always insisting on paying you back somehow...

...and when both of you grew older, he would finally be able to return the favor.

Thanks to your care - instead of starving to death as fate wanted him to - Guytaro had grown into a beast of a young man, finally able to be useful somehow as a debt collector. He prided himself in his combat skills, and his services were free when it came to you. Any troublesome customer, every person trying to mess with you he would make them all pay.

Soon, everyone knew that one of the most desired woman in the red light district had a protector who was just as hideous as you were beautiful.

"The beauty and the beast", or so they said.

However more often than not, you'd thank him in your own way. It was ridiculous now that he thought of it: His miserable self having this beautiful girl beneath him, completely at his mercy, ravishing you whenever he wanted - and he was insateable.

Your moans were like music in his ears, almost deluding him to belief

you honestly enjoyed your secret, shared nights. Gyutaro was simply unable to stop himself when you offered him your affection - his safe haven was in your arms, after all...

...and now that his memory had returned, his heart was longing for you once again.

It was already far beyond midnight when you noticed that the air in your room had shifted.

Still, your mind was drifting back to this afternoon where Warabihime had this unexplainable outburst of emotions - very unlikely for a cold and reserved person like herself.

Sadly, every single time you saw her it would painfully remind you of that silly dream you once had: Becoming the Oiran of a Great House, and with that influence you'd be able to take in Ume and even Gyutaro without anyone daring to object.

All of you could have a good life like this - not the one you wished for, obviously, but you'd survive and be together. This was all you ever wanted. And maybe, just maybe you'd be able to buy yourself to freedom one day...

Albeit this naive wish would get destroyed as soon as you turned eighteen, with your superiors finding out that their gorgeous little doll was not a virgin anymore. They always scolded you to heed their warnings, and now they were certain that Gyutaro had violated you against your will, no matter how hard you pleaded for mercy on his stead.

The only thing they had in mind was finding an excuse, for they had already promised your first night away to a rich foreigner - and someone had to pay the price for their ruined business. On that very same night you had been cast out from your former home, only the prayers of those evil housekeepers would be heared...

...since their problem with the Shabana siblings would resolve itself. Their bodies were never found, though you had been searching until your bare feet went numb in the cold of that harsh winter, never stopping to call out for them even when you found yourself unable to move.

A benevolent man found you and - most likely thanks to your youth and beauty - decided to accept you into his house, in a better part of the Entertainment District. Your past didn't matter to him, and as soon as you'd work hard he promised you a bright future.

Wasn't this what you've always wanted?

No - not without them.

Everything felt empty and meaningless without your unusual family. Together you had surpassed so many hardships, and yet you haven't been there for them in their darkest hour.

This just wasn't fair. Ume was only a child, and over the years you felt more like a mother to her than the woman that birthed her. And Gyutaro, to you he was...

Why was it that only you had survived? How come you've always had it so much more easier than those two?

Every single day you wished that you had just died with them back then - and yet there you are, keeping on going because you thought this was what they would've wanted for you: To find happiness in their place, keeping them in your heart so they'd share it with you.

A creak of the floor got you down to earth again, and your depressing thoughts were immediately forgotten. You jumped up to sit on the futon, every nerve of your body on high alert as the sound of heavy pants drang to your ear.

The person in your room had seemingly entered through your window, even though you were in the highest floor - no human could reach this point, even with a ladder.

You knew exactly what this meant.

All the tales could not prepare you for the inevitable, imminent demise that awaited you...

...and yet you were perfectly calm, as if you had only anticipated the sweet mercy of death. You had only wondered when the demons preying on the finest selection of woman in the Entertainment District would come to visit - no, to take you.

You felt the figure lurkin in a dark corner of your room staring holes into your back, yet you couldn't muster up the courage to take in his appearance.

"No one will miss me" you spoke with a low voice, defeated even. "I have nothing to live for."

A sole tear ran down your cheek, only now realizing that the concept of death was still able to horrify you. "If you are going to kill me, I beg of you: Please do it quick."

"No."

How weird. The sound of this sole word was able to make your heart race even faster than you thought possible.

"You've always been good to me, ya know?" Gyutaro awkwardly shifted from one foot to another, rubbing the back of his head while stumbling across his words. "Eh, so I won't hurt you."

Your glossy eyes widened at the demon's response. That voice, this hoarse, throaty voice...impossible. It can't be!

Now your tears ran free at the realization, streaming down your face like a river - but when you wanted to turn around, the figure had already leaped besides you faster than your mind could catch up on.

A firm hand on your scalp stopped you from moving your head, claws softly fondling with your hair as the man whispered something only barely audible, as if afraid.

"Don't look at me..." His hand was shaking, almost like he was holding himself back from doing something unspeakable shall you not listen to his words. "...please...."

And still, you did. If you were wrong, you'd die without regrets...

...but if the man was really who you thought it to be, then you trusted him with all your life. He would never harm you in any way.

You gasped when you saw your old friend - not out of fear but plain surprise. It was as if a reanimated corpse was standing in your room after all, quite literally.

Otherwise, his silhouette remained almost the same as back then, asides from the lime ombre of his hair. And he was way taller than you remembered him, towering widely over your shivering self. Just a few years ago, he was way smaller than you due to the malnutrition. Scythes were hooked to his baggy pants, which only held onto his prominent hipbones, revealing his unnatural and twisted anatomy.

A scowl was stretched across his greyish pale face, underlined by his bloodshot, sunken in eyes glaring at you menacingly - yet also incredibly vulnerable, as if he wanted to hide from your sight.

"I see you've become even prettier over the years, eh?" he spat both amazed and also with so much anger, the sound of his voice alone made your guts twist and turn sickly.

"Good for you, huh" he continued his envy, clawing on himself to calm his nerves. You could only watch in shock as he deeply teared apart his skin, revealing parts of his flesh wide open just to heal immediately.

Oh, how he wanted to tear off that tender skin of yours as well - clean yourself from where others had probably touched you - and devour every little bit, so you'd always be a part of him.

Countless times Gyutaro had mutiliated young maidens to bring forth the true ugliness they carried inside - but with you, it was a different, more profound and yet selfish desire...

...to want and keep you all for himself, just as he remembers you: Kind and humble and pure as the sunlight he had to avoid at all cost.

Pathetic. Worthless. Menace. Unloveable Freak. Get lost. Never come back. You attract bad luck. Do you want to ruin her too? You fucking Monster. Just die!

The voices in his head were particulary irritating at this moment, not even the pain of his ripped apart flesh being able to calm his mind. It was throwing words hard as granite at his already unstable self, repeating every teaching people had hammered into him, forcing him to belief it to be the truth.

Yeah, surely you are only frozen in fear and will start screaming any moment now. Struggling against his touch, vocalizing your loathing for him before running for dear life. Leaving him yearning for affection and closeness like they all did, wishing for him to cease to exist...

...however, the expected metahphorical blow that would shatter the remains of his heart never came.

"G-Gyuu-chan?" His name sounded so good with your voice, he wanted it on tape. And your eyes, those bright orbs that could never lie leading him directly to the truth within your soul: What he detected in them was nothing but relief and sheer love - meant for him and him only.

You dared moving, trying to get on your feet eventually - even though the man eyed you varily, leaping back to gain some distance. "I-Is that really you? What happened?!"

The demon's smile faltered at that very moment, the pressure on his jaw so intense that you thought to hear his teeth break...

...though when you stumbled right into his arms, grabbing his wrists to keep him from scratching himself, he didn't fight back - instead being frozen in place as he felt your delicate body against his. Your fingertips were tracing along the bony structures of his back, causing him to suck in a both pained and pleasured breath.

"Why...?" was all he could choke out in between strangled sobs, his hands subconsciously wandering to embrace you. "Everyone always looked at me as if I was some kind of monster, and now that I actually am one...why are you not disgusted?"

Your scent was intoxicating, the feeling of your soft skin pressing against his sweet torture. Gyutaro's face was buried in your neck, mouth so close to your pulsating vein that he feared he might lose control.

For a few minutes, loud cries echoed through the room as you weeped to your hearts extend, softly hitting against the demon's bare chest. "I was so lonely without you! How dare you? How could you leave me alone like this?!"

Unable to look into your eyes, the demon's glare darted around the almost empty room, furnished with only the most necessary items - but then his glare got stuck on something, which made his breath catch inside his throat once again:

There was a shrine to honor the deceased - with his and Ume's names on it.

"Wha-" you choked on a sob, needing to feel his body, his warmth as if to confirm that this wasn't in fact just a dream. "What about your sister? Is she also-"

"Yes." Gyutaro squeezed the sides of your forearms ever so slightly, to try and keep himself from trembling yet to no avail. A wave of guilt threatened to drown him, for this part of his consciousness was locked away for a reason.

He alone was responsible for it all. His presence - no - every single touch of him was like poison, tainting everyone he ever dared to let close. You and Ume were so different from him, even though with similar circumstances. Both of you had so much potential to achieve something and lead a better life, if it wasn't for him being with you, dragging you down.

Indeed: His influence had drained the life out of both of you, robbed you of every ounce of hope. He was beyond help from the very start. And if only he had never been born, then you and Ume wouldn't have to suffer the way you did.

"Forgive me, 'Taro..."

You took the words right out of his mouth, leaving him tongue-tied much to his own shame. To him, you had been a mystery from the very first time you've met, and you never failed to surprise him again and again and again.

"I should've helped you through this that night" you continued, sniveling and hiccuping harshly. "But I wasn't there. I'm so terribly sorry!"

"There, there." It was hard to speak for the demon, heavy emotion laying on his throat, constricting it like barbwire - but seeing you like this pulled him out of that dark pit in his mind.

There were only a few more important matters than his deep-rooted hatred for himself, and your wellbeing was one of them.

"We were so damn young back then, ya know?" he hushed you, gently petting your head just like he always used to. "What could you have done? It's not your fault."

His face grimaced in an attempt to be reassuring, lips contorting into a toothy grin and revealing razor-sharp fangs where once only rotten teeth threatened to fall out. "You have such a pretty face, eh? Don't stain it with tears for someone like me."

"Only you are worth it!" you objected, and he would lie if he claimed that this statement didn't make his chest swell with pride. "Because you were the only one that saw me."

This spiral of jealousy, hate and revenge that blinded him had turned him from an innocent victim to a truly ruthless monstrosity - yet the love he held for you never ceased, not even when his demonic nature took over his human mind.

And he had saved you as well, even though he was unaware of this fact.

"You liked me for who I was, and not just my beauty" you ultimately declared, pressing yourself against him as if he was to disappear again if you let go. Compared to everything he's been through, this might sound ridiculous - yet his hug wouldn't falter, rather securing you even more firmly.

In the Entertainment District, where looks were everything, no one cared about your true self. All those years, people - especially men - had always ever taken from you. They came and used you like a toy without will, as if you had no personality at all. Every single time, they'd slowly kill another part inside of you, leaving you empty.

But not him, not Gyutaro.

Even though they called him 'The One That Takes', he alone could give you something no one ever before did: A home, and feeling of belonging.

With him, you always felt seen and cared for. Listened to, no matter how insignificant your thoughts might be. The man, even though inexperienced, was so gentle, so thoughtful to your wishes and desires, so loving with every touch and word that it made you wax in his hands.

You were his salvation and the other way around - and every second you spent with each other was making you feel more alive than every other moment of your existence.

"I never got to thank you, Y/N" he answered, still dwelling in those pity sentiments he had thought to have long since forsaken. "Me neither. But no matter how things ended this way, we can work this out. We have to. We will!"

Eventually, Gyutaro dared to bring his face closer to yours, neither of you having an intention to ever let go again. And when the gap between your lips closed, you knew that he finally understood.

Everything will turn out just as it's meant to be. And as long as you're together, you have everything you ever needed - and overcome anything fate has prepared for you!

"If it's you, Y/N, then I'll belive it as well. We will never be separated again, alright?"

[celestialgaea]

write a fic(nsfw or sfw its up to you) with Ezio and a teenage girl who fell in love with him(i’d want it nsfw if you’re fine with it)

I'd love to do that! It has been quite some time since I wrote a request, so i’m so excited! Enjoy :)

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio Auditore x Reader

Warnings: Mature content, smut, age gap

Disclaimer: Ezio is at the age of 45 at the beginning of the Brotherhood serie as the reader will be the age of 19, so if you are uncomfortable with age gaps then i’d advice you to scroll further. It is not wrong to have feelings for an older man, however, it is wrong if an older person would use it to manipulate you and hurt you intentionally. This was written for the mere entertainment of the AC fandom!

A/N: I am so sorry for letting the requester wait for weeks! I hate to keep people waiting, I swear. But I have been able to finish this piece and I'm so happy! Let it enjoy you, loves

Along the horizon a blemish of darkness formed and began to spread itself along the, what seemed, infinite edges of the earth. The orange sky set her intentions to flee and slowly vanished, causing the natural state of the heaven’s to occur right in front of your eyes. It felt lonely yet so calming.

‘You seem so dazed by the upcoming nightsky, mia signora.’ The grumbling undertone of Ezio’s voice was vibrating inside of his chest and could be felt against your back. It was as though the vibration was spreading from his breast towards your lower abdomen as a warm and tingling flow. 'It's just beautiful.' You said.

'Just beautiful?' You didn't need to face him to know that he'd raised an eyebrow saying that. It was a very typical gesture Ezio always made, even unknowingly, and that small signal was just enough for him to add a subtle layer of promiscuity to himself. Ezio simply wouldn't be 'Ezio' without a touch of promiscuity. That was the secret to his unexplainable aura that made you taste life whenever you were in his prescence and yet all the flavour would get drained from your tongue if he'd leave, as if the gate's of heaven closed abruptly in front of your eyes as his back was turned towards you. He carried temptation and desire with him, to wherever he goes, and even makes the strictly chaste women beg him for a brush against their thigh, an intense look from his smouldering eyes, a hot and lingering breath against their open mouth.

'Yes, just beautiful, Ezio.'

'And what makes it beautiful, bambini?'

'The calm and enigmatic scenery. It's dark and unknown, and yet it's the most intruiging thing i've ever observed. Reminds a bit of you, just a little bit.' Small spots of flaming skin freckled the whole width of your face and there would be no point in turning the other cheek as Ezio's overtowering head already noticed your reddish feature underneath his gaze. He emitted a breathless laugh, a grumbling grin. There was a tendency that whispered in Ezio's ear. This tendency told him to make a teasing remark about your blushing skin. It would've subconciously stretch out his ego, add a bit of empowerment to his pride knowing that even at the ripe age of 45 he'd still be able to make the early flourished flower allow her sweet nectar to be tasted by him, just a small taste of enlightening in return for enlightment.

'And, again, what makes me a bit like that?' Ezio asked, repeating to raise one eyebrow. You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say, and just kept listening to the constant rips and breaks of small twigs and dried up leaves getting crushed underneath the horse's hooves. 'Am I really that closed, huh? I thought the whole of Italia knew about my reputation from waltzing to one flower to the other.' He released a breathless laugh again. 'Yes, they do. But that is because it's the only part of you they see,' You paused to subtly sniff up the drippling liquid that ran down your left nostril just in time before it reached the open door to your philtrum. 'Truly, you are an open book, but written in a cryptic language.' It was troublesome to hide the breath-heaving excitement that hugged your chest tightly as Ezio's body rubbed itself against yours with every gallop and bumpy cantering the horse made. Wether it be his upper thighs softly caressing the backside of your thighs or the warmth of his sweaty robes clinging itself onto your back, it was enough for your mind to wander towards more bare skin.

'Bambini, there are more parts of me that they have seen. And besides, you are still too young to be putting your nose inside of my younger years.' You grinned softly. 'I don't find you that old.' 'Oh?' 'How old are you? 40?' You asked. 'I wish,' Ezio said, almost daydreaming. 'But alas, I am forty-five.' 'forty-five sounds...' 'Old? Don't be shy, mia signora, I won't bite.' The soft rumbly undertone of his voice was melodic. His talk was never mundane.

'Forty-five sounds ripe.' If you were able , or rather, if you dared to face Ezio you knew that he would be taken aback. You continued. 'A perfect age where experience, wisdom and vigor is combined. Well, it depends on the individual, but you have the right combination; You have a lot of vigor,' His arms slightly embraced you tighter. 'You have experience,' He tugged onto the reigns, expertly, causing the fleshy stallion to prance, exposing the strenght and beautiful anatomy of the animal. 'And wisdom.' And he stood halt in front of his mansion. The mansion where he inhabited the role of mentor, brother, son and lover.

'I feel honored, truly. You may be young, (Y/N), but your mind is beyond your years. I have a friend whom you may like to talk to. Nicollo Machiavelli. Do you know him?' You shook your head. 'I have never heard of messere Machiavelli.' 'Understandable,' Ezio handed the reigns over to the stable boy, a meager young man whose hands had more capacity than his head.

The night might have brought a serenity with her for those whom were able to seek it, but for you there was none to find. The only presence that kept you company, sadly enough, was a bird who kept on singing its weeping lullaby. You just wanted Ezio to be here in this guest room, only him and you. It musn't be moans and brushes and kisses and touches, that enigmatic warmth and intimidation that was present around him was more than enough. How you would've regretted it to wake up the next morning, if you had found the will to sleep, only for this place to be without any trace of Ezio's presence.

An onimous silence brooded. Ezio couldn't be asleep, not yet. And you knew that well enough. You had silent hopes on Ezio coming through your door when you took a porcelain oil lamp holder in your hands and hesitatingly threw it onto the floor. The split second of the oil lamp holder being afflicted by deepend cuts that spread itself rapidly all over the object until it shattered into a mess of piercing shrieks made you shiver as the next second was overflowed by the complete silence of the night. It took less than a minute when you heard heavy stomping coming nearer and nearer. The door opened and exposed Ezio, whose chest was heaving and sighs were heavy, in only his loosened chemise and -Oh, how daring- open breeches. He locked eyes with you before turning his gaze towards the sharp mess on the floor.

'(Y/N), oh dolce madre di Gesù. What did you do now, kid. You could've hurt yourself.' Kid. His vague thinking had spat out the truth of how he truly perceived you. A child. A naïve and stupid child.

'I'm sorry, I just wanted to write but I accidently pushed the lamp holder away with my arm.' You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to hide the dispair that one word brought you.

Kid

'Well, don't let me interrupt your writing, then. And don't you make me worry like that again, understood? My old man's heart can't take that.' He grinned at his own words before silence took a hold again; for him it was a sign to walk away and so he did. He walked out, but you (Oh, you!) couldn't help but stay nailed to the ground, your eyes following the trails of wrinkles on the back of his chemise.

'Besides,' You said hesitantly, breaking the silence and breaking his steps. Ezio was not far from the door before heading back to you, awaiting your words at your door frame. He stood there and it was real. This all was real. You called him and now you were obliged to continue.

'I am not a kid. I am nineteen. I am an adult.' Ezio smiled -unknown if it was to laugh at you or to have pity on you-. soft rimples adorned the sides of his eyes. You had no idea of what to expect from him. And weird enough, Ezio came closer. 'I know. But you're still so naïve. Do not feel embaressed for being called a kid. Actually, forgive me, I should not have called you such. You are much more mature than a kid,' You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded your head in acknowledgement, your lips curling into a faint smile.

'But do I look like a young girl? And I mean, like, a kid girl.' Ezio squinted his eyes faintly and his face was slightly angled to the side, mildly questioning you.

'In what context?'

'Physical appearances.' He couldn't help but laugh quietly, shaking his head. '(Y/N), Ragazza, Yes you look like a young girl, but not a kid,' Ezio paused in his words. And you couldn't help but stray your eyes away from his dilated pupils to the curvy pathway of thick eyelashes that hung like curtains underneath his bottom eyelids. 'Your skin is youthful and supple, your eyes look dull but they are filled with life. Why wouldn't you want these features while you still have them?' For some reason you couldn't fixate yourself on his words. At that moment you felt intoxicated by the subject and wanted to take it a step further. You yearned to fall into his arms for no reason but to feel him. If it was possible, you would've clung your body onto his. You weren't even able to process his words, your mind was to busy wandering towards sensing Ezio to the fullest.

'No. No, no, no,' You shook your head with every word, saying them vaguely and you felt like whining for comprehension. 'Not my skin nor my eyes nor my hair nor my ears. I meant my body. Does my body look mature?' Ezio's eyes seemed to hesitate, trembling, as if he feared to break an oath of chastity. He bit onto the soft tissue inside of his cheek, knowing that your gown was fairly see through; such was exposed by the protrusion of your soft nipples.

'You're wearing a loose nightgown so it's difficult for me to judge. Still I cannot judge from the formal dresses you wear, that would be perverse, (Y/N), you know that.' How willing you were to get an answer out of him. Just a comment on your hips or your soft breasts or the faint curvature from your elegant ankle. Nothing more. Allowing him to whisper it to your curves, letting the words embrace its soft skin.

You tugged onto the collar of your nightgown to push it down your shoulders. Ezio kept silent, unable to predict your actions, and yet, somehow, he was in awe. The cotton night dress slipped down from your body and the unexpected exposure of wind seared your skin. You noticed how he tried to quietly cover his breeches with his chemise. It brought you a sense of victory, knowing that his breath was unstable as he fought against his desire to hold you, to warm you, to love you. He nearly seemed frozen.

'(Y/N)...' Ezio pierced your eyes with an intensity of his. You took hold of his hand and unsurely cupped them around your breasts, insecure of his big hands not being delighted by the size -How silly it might've sounded to him-.

'Is my body mature? Please, Ezio, don't keep your thoughts to yourself.' You had to laugh while saying that, you didn't know wether it was to laugh away the scorching silence or your own slight embaressment of your impusliveness.

Ezio held the soft flesh underneath your breasts and tenderly touched them, sometimes his thumb caressed your nipples before replacing it with the soft touches of his incinerating breath and hunry lips. This feeling was new to you, new but welcoming. A heavy intoxication of his bodily warmth seared your skin, your veins, your blooming flower. Your womanhood was singing with passion, begging for him to make it reach her sweet melodious notes like the upper string of a lute. Ezio's lips traced across your collarbone and planting soft kisses with tenderness up to your neck. You instinctively opened your mouth for only a melodious heavy breath that whispered to Ezio for more.

'Your body is so mature, from your beautiful breast,' His handpalm enveloped your private part, slightly squeezing it before pressing two fingers against your humid crease and clit. 'To the carnal lust that hides inside of your fullgrown womanhood.' He whispered against the beginning of your cheekbone. With tender kisses he drew from your cheek to your lips, reddened and plumped by arousal. He sucked onto your bottom lip before taking all of you in. The meatiness from the kiss moved waves of heavily emotions inside of you. Before you'd know it you had your tongue caressing his. Ezio smothered a groan in your mouth. He tasted of wine, tons of glasses to drown the loneliness and create the illusion of a company that was just the two-sidedness of his tipsy subconciousness. His shirt was pulled over his head with an impatient tremble and you know how he slowly came to implode by all of the sensory goodness.

He carried you onto the bed. Ezio's body was fit for his age; broad, muscled an yet soft, but not that soft. His hands wandered towards the rim of his breeches to pull them of, but he came to a halt, leaking the trimmed hairs that led to his manhood. A realistion had hit him.

'Bella,' He spoke. 'You're a virgin, true? Pardon me if I'm incorrect.' You nibbled on your lip. 'Yes.' He hummed. The hum didn't seem one of desire nor out of regret. 'I don't want to put myself on display immediately because that would make you uncomfortable as it is your first time.' A warm sensation formed in your heart. He cared. He truly cared. It made you trust him even more and you were sure he wouldn't hurt you, not at all. His mouth opened, wanting to speak further.

'When was the last time you had your menstrual cycle?' He asked. You let out a breath as you thought about it. 'More than two weeks ago, why?' Oh, how limited your sexual knowledge was and how you were ashamed of it. 'To make sure you won't carry my child.'

Ezio came onto the bed to hover you. 'I'll make sure you never want to share the bed with no other man except for me.' He whispered. Ezio flowered blooming kisses onto your neck as his hand began playing with a single breast, giving love and affection to it. You expected the soft trails of his fingers to set its odyssey towards your womanhood, but he stopped, resting the palm of his hand onto your lower stomach. 'Calm down, bella, you are way to tense.' You didn't even realise how the muscles in your neck had moved against his mouth the lower his hand went or how your eyes counted every indivual speck of grayed out plasterwork that was spreaded across the ceiling as a way to escape the anxiety of the moment.

'I'm sorry,' You said with a breathless grin, trying to laugh away the strain that was poured upon your shoulders.

Ezio's fingers slowly slid down your stomach towards your womanhood as he murmered against you neck how it was okay to feel frightened by the idea of a man seeing her so bare and vulnerable. The first touch against your clitoris, so careful and feathery, had the small and swollen pearl craving for more of the sensational ecstacy. He began playing with it; rubbing, turning, licking and sucking. The closeness and scorching warmth of his mouth against your private part was as loving as it was undressing you from your shame. How you were so riled up that even the most repulsive persons could be seen as appealing if they'd stood in front of you as Ezio was making the tension inside of your folds build up. The warmth of his humid tongue against such an intimiate place felt unexplainable good, so good even, both to you as to him, that glistening streaks of Ezio's salive rolled down your fold onto the white bedsheets.

You gripped Ezio's hair. Your pelvis was raised and back was arched as you felt the sweetness of the upper snare of a lute being played on your womanhood. Your mouth opened and a long lasting moan emitted from deep down your throat as the shuddering sensation overwhelmed you.

Ezio's lips curled into a smirk. 'We are not done yet, ragazza,' He said mischievously. 'But firstly I will need to break your hymen, so it'll be easier for me to enter you.' And there was that small speck of anxiousness again, slowly growing. The flushed colour withdrew itself from your face. 'How will you do that?' You asked with a hint of concern in your voice. Ezio's body hovered yours again and he began sucking your neck with the moist of his mouth. '(Y/N),' he whispered against your skin. '(Y/N),' He whispered again. And again. And again. Ezio massaged your jaw with his hands and locked eyes with you. 'I will enter you with two of my fingers so your vagina will get used to penetration, then i'll slowly go in deeper until it will be a tad easier to enter you.' 'Will it hurt?' You asked, unsurely. 'It can feel a little bit uncomfortable, but not painful.' You gave an understanding nod. 'Do you feel ready, (Y/N)?' And You nodded again.

Ezio's torso embraced the side of your body as his lips found their way to the sweet spot at the end of your jaw and let it be overwhelmed by the humid heat of his mouth. You were pushed back on the crooked duvet with the utmost tenderness of his hand and you could feel how alive his erection was as it slightly sunk into the flesh of your thigh. Ticklish strokes were made by his fingers whom were slowly removed from the rounds of your breast to set its journey to bring itself in between your thighs. He opened them, slowly, and as soon as your womanhood was fully unveiled in front for his eyes -again- his warm hand squeezed your inner thigh before immediately cupping your bush.

Ezio's kisses kept growing onto your neck and breast as his other arm had been slithered underneath your back to embrace it, pushing your side closer against the heat of his body. Both his middle and index finger began to move across your slit, and he did that a few times, and then he twirled his fingers against your hot and naked flesh to cover them with your natural wetness. The sweetness of his kisses began to vanish as you were focusing more on the interaction of time and the distance of his fingers that slowly began to emerge into one puddle of subconscious fear and confusion -which you covered by an arbirtrary and unspontanious grin-. Ezio placed the tip of his fingers against your opening and slowly wiggled them not even half an inch inside of you. He looked at you. 'Are you hurt?' You shook your head, scared that an emitted word from your throat would ruin the state of false, but striking, serenity you were able to put yourself in. Ezio slowly pushed in deeper and wiggled his fingers slightly before taking them back to the beginning of your openening, but not out, to cover it with more lube that was the most present at your crease. And so he did that again and again until the feeling of pinched and uncomfortable skin had passed and his fingers had an open way towards the unknown depths of your body.

Ezio let his fingers return to the fresh air and kissed you passionatly on your lips. 'Good girl.' He whispered against them. And that was when it happened. Ezio stood up from the bed and began opening his breeches, the profits of plundered money slid down his toned legs and he pushed the trousers at his ankles of with his feet.

It was intimidating and...surreal. You had seen penisses before, but on statues which were a state of purity and modesty, but this. You were doubting if he was able to fit as the comparison of size between his fingers and his manhood was draconian. It stood erect and a few droplets of precum shone on top of his glans.

Ezio hovered you and his stubble tickled the skin around your mouth as he kissed you. His breath came in heavy and irregular parts through his nose and brushed your top lip as his hands had pressed you against his body. His erection was pressed against your body. Ezio gripped your inner thigh to place it over his back and you could see how his eyes were in a half open state of intoxication, his mouth -also- half open and forming a faint grimace. He took his penis in his hand and guided it towards your entrance and slowly put it inside of you, just a little bit. He used the same method as he did with his fingers until the uncomfortable pushes had vanished and he was able to enter you fully.

You felt filled, literally. At first, the slow thrusts were numb until your wetness had come much quicker and in a bigger amount which made the thrusts more rapid, rougher and painless. Ezio's mouth stood agape with soft grunts emitted from it.

And suddenly you felt it. A slow but emotionally overwhelming sensation of building up ecstacy was present the more he thrusted and the more the warmth and the nearness of his bare pelvis pushed against yours. You let yourself listen and observe the orders of your body and automatically widened your thighs for Ezio to thrust in deeper. He kept thrusting in, and with each thrust you gripped his thigh, underneath the fold of his buttocks, and tried to push him in deeper as the building up sensation became sweeter and sweeter and the private parts began to throb agressively. You felt that you were almost there and so did Ezio.

You arched your head back and the sweet sensation of Ezio's scorching body against yours, his lenght filling you and his face burried in your neck overwhelm you. You thought your womanhood was about to burst as so much power and energy came from it and you kept squeezing your eyes until Ezio's grunts vanished in your neck with the warm seed that had been spilled inside of you.

All of this was intense. Unbelievable even. You were in bed with an infamous murderer, the blood of tens and hundreds of people sticking in between his fingers and dried onto his armour, and yet he was naked and vulnerable and tired in your embrace. A man in his forties skin on skin with a sensitive youth. Both committed and so alive. You wondered if more days like this were going to come or if that would be an illusion for the pleasure of your mind and that this was just the only time Ezio was able to give in to your sensuality. But for the moment you didn't care. You were both naked, satisfied and intoxicated.

[awakenthereveal]

A CRIMINAL MASQUERADE

CHAPTER 3 — THE MASQUERADE

MASTERLIST

“The worst of the worst is here”

Haknyeon scans the crowd for Chanhee, his only source of entertainment at this sluggishly dull masquerade, full to the brim with mundane people laughing and even more mundane jokes. Merely being here makes Haknyeon want to throw a mirror onto the ground and cut those around him with the shards. God, being in places like this makes Haknyeon feel an acute desire to inflict pain on someone, but he manages to resist well for he has taught himself self-control, a handy skill.

He finally spots the familiar brunet, unsurprisingly, standing by the food table, subtly stuffing food into his mouth. The food looks so flavoursome; beef cooked to perfection, the scent so strong and appetising; an assortment of cheeses; baked and mashed potatoes; a salad; a teapot full of steaming tea. Haknyeon doesn’t hesitate to join Chanhee and tuck into the beef, his favourite. Resisting the urge to drool, Haknyeon appreciated the succulent taste his tastebuds had been blessed with.

“Haknyeon, eat with an ounce of politeness, will you?” Chanhee chides, making Haknyeon stick his tongue out at him.

“Why should I? It’s not like I want to be here, now do I?” Haknyeon retaliates, frowning at Chanhee.

“Because if you don’t, you’re going to get your arse kicked by someone or the other here. If it’s a woman, oh boy, you’re getting an earful, my friend, mark my words,” Chanhee rants, answering his question without realising it is rhetorical. He realises after seeing the blank look of disappointment on Haknyeon’s face. You see, Chanhee is smart, but when it comes to social cues, Chanhee is, inconveniently, as slow as a snail. “Ah, it was rhetorical. Oh my, how foolish of me.” He says in realisation.

“Congratulations on the realisation,” Haknyeon replies snarkily, making Chanhee scoff and pour himself some tea. Chanhee, like most people, is an avid tea drinker. He drinks more tea than water, Haknyeon assumes.

“You do realise that the both of us require to find dance partners?” Chanhee asks, changing the topic so smoothly that Haknyeon hard notices. “If we don’t, then both our mothers will positively kick our arse -- or fathers, depending on which is in a worse mood.” They shudder at the thought of what could happen if they don’t find partners soon and bid each other farewell, begrudgingly searching for partners.

Haknyeon climbs the staircase and leans on his arms against the railing, watching the couples laughing and smiling at one another, so helplessly in love with one another; he watches the friends talk poshly to one another. He sees that there are hardly another other women who he sees as attractive, though, he must admit, they have some cool masks. He wishes to simply stay where he is a be an onlooker, but he can hear his mother rave on about him from where he was at the top of the staircase and knows that he is going to be dragged to dance with one of his mother’s friend’s daughters and the mere thought of that makes him want to barf out everything he had just eaten.

Haknyeon senses a presence behind him and he turns to see whether he is overthinking or that there is someone there. He sees the tail of a black ballgown turn the corner and the extremely quiet sound of footsteps can be heard by Haknyeon only. Curious, he follows the mysterious woman, hoping that she’ll be someone of his liking.

Meanwhile, Chanhee still hasn’t found anyone and decides to give up. As he heads back to his safe place, the food table, he rashly bumps into someone with such force that it knocks both of them to the floor.

“Oi, watch where you’re going,” the voice snaps, evidently male.

“Apologies,” Chanhee replies simultaneously, regretting being so polite with the harsh-spoken male in front of him. He stands and, out of basic etiquette, offers a hand for the male. He crosses his other arm over his waist and stares at the male with a look of expectancy, telling the ravenette to take his hand and stand.

The rude ravenette jumps up and Chanhee scoffs at the disrespect. “Listen, you arse, I don’t need your help nor do I need anyone else’s,” the ravenette snaps. Chanhee doesn’t understand why this guy is so rude, but he reminds him of Haknyeon, with the same rapacious personality and hatred for others.

“No need to call me an arse, I bumped into you by accident,” Chanhee fights back calmly, distaste written all over his softly elegant face.

“Sorry, it’s an impulsive reaction, you seemed like a bitch but you’re cool,” the ravenette apologises. “Huang Renjun, the notorious thief of Walker Street.” He smiles and holds out a hand for Chanhee to shake. Chanhee is slightly startled by his introduction, calling himself a thief nonchalantly doesn’t sit right with Chanhee.

“Choi Chanhee,” Chanhee shakes his hand with a tight-lipped smile to be polite. Renjun understands his discomfort and lets out a hearty laugh in response, confusing Chanhee far more than he already is.

“I assume you haven’t been told, have you?” Renjun inquires. Chanhee shakes his head as an answer, a little too intimidated to form words. “The vast majority of us here are criminals, I can recognise faces from wanted posters despite their faces being covered. That guy over there--” he points to a buff guy in a crisp suit with a baby pink mask, laughing with a scrawny woman--”he’s Harold White, that drug dealer from Smith Avenue, I think, not quite sure about him.” He enlights, making Chanhee sputter from astonishment. Though he shouldn’t, he respects these criminals to an extent for being so crafty.

“Oh, my,” Chanhee manages to say after much struggle.

“He’s not even the worst of them. The worst of the worst is here, I’m certain of it,” he informs.

“Who, may I ask?” Chanhee wonders whether he will regret asking, but he has asked the question and there is no turning back.

“Woman in Black, Nam Jihyun,” Chanhee freezes at the mention of her name. She is ruthless, avaricious, a monster feared by all. She has committed every crime possible--or at least to Chanhee’s knowledge.

“I ought to tell Haknyeon!” Chanhee exclaims, leaving Renjun without bidding farewell or thanking him for the information.

[confessionsofasinglemuslim-blog]

Dating as a Muslim is pretty hard.  I think it's extremely important to be patient and careful when selecting a life partner. I’ve had too many friends who have rushed into a marriage with a man they hardly know to rush into the divorce courts soon after. I do not want to end up like that! I'd rather take my time and date and get to know my future husband.

So dating as a Muslim is pretty much the same as everyone else. You go for dinner or a coffee and you chat, get to know the other person. Well except for the awkward times when you get to have the first date at your home with both sets of parents, siblings, family friends and a whole lot of awkwardness.... Yes, this actually happened to me... this has happened more than once...

I've dated many different ways. Blind dates, online dating, the family set-up dating and many more. Throughout this processive met many 'interesting' men. I've left dates crying from laughter, pain, frustrations, and depression. Unfortunately, in the Muslim community the women are of a much higher standard. Whether it be through their looks, education, religion, social skills, values, and flexibility. Yet we still have mothers coddling their sons and convincing them they are perfect the way they are and since there are more males than females... the lady will have to settle at some point...

I know this sounds depressing... this could be because this last date that I was on was essentially the last straw. My friends have always told me you really need to write a book or youtube channel talking about your experiences. In life I have always had such bad luck... this is been no different when it comes to dating.

So this blog will be entertaining and enlighting the world of the many different, crazy, shocking and at time depressing dates that I have been on.

Hope you enjoy the journey!!

[riczi-vengeance]

Legacy of Anti (Chapter 7)

When Jack was regaining consciousness the worst thing that could happen took a place. Anti was laughing and making the entire cabin shaking. ~Well, well, well. What have we got here? Some hilarious little team of kids that think they can defeat me. How sweet. The demon continued to laugh at them and mumble some incoherent words in some foreign language. He materialized a very sharp but rather small knife that looked like made in an ancient greece. He put the item to a girl's throat wanting to slit it. He paused his action to add: ~ This little bitch-witch won't mess with my plans anymore and I hope that this is enough of a proof to you all and if you... ~ Don't you dare to touch her! A very deep menly voice cut him off. Instead of Mark there was standing a Darkiplier, ready to rescue Lena and fight with Anti even in this form.  The difference that Dark brought to Mark's person was noticable. The face features sharpened and his eyes was the color of a tar instead of brown. Also the muscles enlarged a bit and he seemed to be a lot taller. He looked majestic with the dicserning and righteous energy beaming from him. Darks' glamour was overwhelming for Jack but anyway he stood up for Lena as well. He was standing almost in the same line as the demon that was possesing a girl's body and he was ready to throw himself into this uneven fight to help Lena. The veins in Jack's neck bulged and he has risen his chest to look more confident and brave. He knew that he didn't stand a chance against that powerful creature like Anti but he admited to himself that he will try to scare the demon. The boy frowned and took a deep breath before going guns blazing.   ~ So they called You, Dark, huh? Maybe insted of helping this bunch of children you would consider helping me to rule this pathetic world. When the prophecy will come true and my son will bring the adequat order upon this universe I assure You that the era of the darkness will come as well. Dark couldn't ... the sight from Lena. Through the dark eyes of Darkiplier there was a visible glimpse of the Mark who had control over him ~ Let her go. We will get along. Why the hell would you want such a weak-ass witch Jack felt his blood boil when he heard those words. He clenched his fists and begun to gnushing his teeth. He felt a fire inside his chest and was ready to scream. Well, he already felt like screaming. He was now even more disgusted with his father and this whole situation than before. He started to think why would it affect him so much if he barely even knew all those people. The boy  quickly got rid of these thoughts and confirmed himself in conviction that it's just the way this should be. Anyone would be annoyed because of the way that Anti is speaking. Suddenly Jack felt Aygee's grip on his shoulder and begun to cool down as she spoke to him in his mind. ~ Calm down, Jack. Mark is just stalling now and the more he does that the more time Anti is spending in Lena's body which is weakening him. It takes a lot of great power to pull a stunt like this. Just look at Lena's hand. It's twitching. Anti can't hold this connection over Lena for much longer so better not provoke him Hearing those words inside his hand, Jack glanced at Lena once again and all he saw was a knife moving closer to her neck. At first he felt a slightly drilling sensation inside his head. Not much of a headache but a little pressure. When he saw a little drops of blood dripping down Lena's neck as Anti has put the knife near it and pressed it gently, Jack could feel his guts twisting. He groaned softly and felt his heart dropped. He knew he shouldn't but luckily the demon was too focused on Dark to pay attention to him.

Darkiplier was roaming around the room, distracting Anti. He gave the demon a pitiful look and sighed ~You know, she's no use to me and I don't really need her so watching her slitting her own throat would be really entertaining Lena's hand stopped sliting the skin on her throat as the cabin was enlighted by blue and green glitch. Jack was rising his hand as if he was just reaching out and begging them to stop. He was unaware of his powers but the moment when his emotions were hyped, the huge ball of energy extracted from Jack's hand which pinned Lenas body to the wall setting it free from Anti's control. For a few seconds there was a visible shadow of Anti. If someone would ask Jack what Anti's shadow looked like he would describe him as the most scary monster he has ever seen. To him, he looked like instead of hands he had paws with claws, sharp teeth that made him look a little like a vampire and his sihlouette was slender. Long arms that could easily reach you from any point and even longer legs to chase you. Green, shining eyes that was making the boy shiverve glared at him in the dark, making him feel small, clueless and powerless. Jack came to the conclusion that he finally has met his worst nightmare. ~ How the hell were you able to do that? You cursed bastard, spoiled child! My indulgence is over, you hear me? Now you have left two choices. Either you will team up with me or I will destroy you and tear you in million pieces. When the shadow of Anti was about to attack Jack, Dark gripped him and casted a spell. Jack heard that it was something like '' te imperia venire usque ad finem, charismata iudicandi potestas penes me, etiam si abducti fueritis daemonium malum'' but he probably got it wrong. He realized that it was latin and unfortunately he didn't speak that language. The demon disappeared and Dark with him. In a spot where the battle took a place a moment ago there was Mark who has fallen down to his knees. He was trying to gather some more strenght to stand up and come to unconscious Lena. Aygee rushed to help her friend and was there before Mark could even think about it. She was holding her friend's hand trying to revive her. Meanwhile Jack was staring at his hand, all shocked and terrified. He would never think that he had any power. ~ What the hell was that? How's that even possible? He was asking himself those retorical question not paying much attention to what was happening with the others. Now he has some explaining to do. Nobody would believe him that it was just heat of the moment and that he did that accidentally. All he could think about was leaving and not coming back, but he knew that now when Anti attacked it wasn't even an option. He already pissed him off and now he's got to finish what's started. That is the thing that he feared the most. When Lena started to wake up from the previous state, she was bubling some words under her nose and when finally she was fully conscious, she took a quick look at Aygee, she broke down and cried. It caught Jack's attention back. Lena manage to spit some words through her moaning: ~ I saw Anti killing You all... Please don't let that happen...  

  To Be Continued…

[kahliethefangirl]

Hedda Pt. 3

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Hedda Pt. 3 - How to be brave.

Pairing: Ivar x OFC Rating for chapter: T Warnings: Mention of violence, a touch of strong language. Note: Daily friendly reminder: My English could be so much better. Sorry. And I know there haven't been much Ivar yet and I'm sorry; but I need some things done for all this to work out as I have planned soo.. But he will be there, promise! And I realized just how complex I have made this and I start to confuse myself majorly. I know this part is rather jumpy and I'm sorry but I have been writing this over and over again without finding a way much better than this. I hope the next part will be better aha!

Winter had slowly passed to spring. Soon I would find the floor of the woods being covered in Hepatica, Wood Anemone and Cowslip. Already could I hear the singing of Wagtails and the Long-taled Tit; even through the lively atmosphere of the town. The sun was more generous with its presence and warmth and down at the docks the birds feeding of the water had started to gather around the fishing boats trying to steal some breakfast. Today the sun is modest and the colder and crisp winds whisper about the possibility of spring snow coming from the mountains. Yet the green grass had started to sneak out from under the now random spots of wet snow.

"We should find something for you to do." Aslaug says where we walk the muddy streets of Kattegat; the leather of our shoes splashing the mud onto our legs whenever a foot is put down in front of the other.

"Because you want me to contribute or because you fear I will be bored?" I smile faintly at an older woman greeting us and the calm weather spreads a form of ease within.

"You already contribute." Looking down towards the water I can see a sail falling from behind the rooftops and you could hear the people shouting in communication. Life was all around, yet something deep inside told me it is only a temporarily peace.

"With my dreams?" I look to her, taller and leaner than I; truly putting me in her shadow and I think that not only is she a queen by her acts but also by her looks.

"You are here for a reason Hedda. Spring is crawling at our doorstep and perhaps time for us to understand is soon here." She doesn't look troubled yet her smile is absent. I look down to the mud stuck to my dress and the light reflects in the watery puddles among the brown and wet soil. I have had the dream once more since the day Aslaug had enlighted me what I hadn't known myself but then just barely a moon back it had changed. The fox was constantly by my side, smirking with its white and red snout as I was in the bloody mud on the ground; the pleasure closer than ever. The flying swords was still there and so was the man turning into a wolf. But part from the fox now following me a raven had joined us; it's great black wings enveloping me and behind me in the darkness it throws over me I can feel the awareness of what I have to protect, what I have to sacrifice for and in front of me I feel the awareness of the threat. But I can't see, like the wings of the raven had blinded both my eyes. The queen had been more troubled by this than what she liked to let me know.

"You should go se the seer." She stops and I almost walk past her where I with a silent groan pleadingly look to her wise eyes.

"You know I don't wish for that." I complain like a child and Aslaug raise her chin in authority making me feel even smaller than before. Long had she asked me to go see the seer in hope for answers we could not find ourselves. The interest in finding out who I was had faltered amongst the people during the long months I'd been around but my dreams had only triggered the queens need to know. But I feared; I feared what he might know and therefor tell me. My insides was wrapped in such doubt and trembling terror during the nights I sometimes tried not to fall asleep. Aslaug knew this.

"Fearing is not what we do." She cups my cheek and her smooth thumb runs under my blind eye. Her words are a lullaby about trust and strength yet the already told unknown future in my dreams had me unable to truly enjoy it. "And this is your conribution. You are not given the gift of seeing for your own entertainment. We are not women to walk between towns; telling what we can see for a hot meal or for some coins in our hand." She starts walk again and reluctantly I follow; knowing her words to be true. I don't know how to put myself in that trance that would allow people like us to see and to be told what ordinary humans could not perceive. I only see what the dreams allow me to see. I had not come here to the fox's den for its wisdom for simple coin or prophecies of the weather or the falls harvest.

_____

With the soft cloak around me I sit outside one of the fishing shacks, the doors closed but the smell of fish strong around us. The wet ground had soaked the leather on my feet but the thought of being closed in by walls made me ignore it and instead lean against the chilly outside of the buildings structure. Ubbe had made me company a while ago where I like an animal curl inside my cloak, trying to enojoy the last light of day where he himself slowly run the grindstone along the sword over his lap. The sound is calming and regular; no surprises and I listen to it dreamily.

"Sometimes I wonder if I have seen something more bautiful than this." I mumble where the sun is setting behind the mountains. The sky is grey yet the shift of light is hypnotizing and the shadows crawling from the mountains, over the forests and down to the fjord in front of us is almost magic.

"Does it matter?" Ubbe asks, the sound of the grindstone against metal stopping and I look to him. The sword is resting across his lap and his arms over the sword and he stare to the scenery I was just commenting.

"Probably not." I sigh, a shiver running through me where a cold gust of wind sweeps past us and for a second the smell of fish falters just to return the same second the wind leaves us. "Yet I sometimes wonder what I may have seen before. What people did I surround myself with, what did I know?" I talk more to myself than Ubbe, yet he grunts before he puts the sword down beside him leaning it against the wooden bench we're situated on.

"My mother is right, you know. You could get some answers if you went see him." Now he looks to me and my face twists into disliking where I pull the cloak tighter around me as if it would protect me from what words is to come. "Perhaps it is important, what your dreams tells you and perhaps you understanding is even more important." He adds and his strong hand squeeze my shoulder. It's supposed to be supporting I know but I only feel annoyed.

"And what if I find out just to realize it is above my power, huh?" I turn my body so I can look at him properly. "What if what my dreams tells me is something I can't handle?" I sound pathetic, scared and desperate and it is all traits I wish to erase from my persona; however it is what I feel and I can't hide it from him. Ubbe have become a great friend, always supporting me and always listening. I don't know if I had any brothers and sisters before but I'm sure that if I had Ubbe is a perfect replacement.

"Do you think any of our God's would hand us more than we can handle? You are given the gift for a reason Hedda and not without knowing you can indeed cope with what is to come." The back of his fingers brush my cheek and for a short second I just wish to fall into his embrace and cry a tear or two; just to have some of my fear pour out of me.

"Then why am I scared? Aslaug told me fear is not what we do and she is right; yet I barely feel anything else." I huff, removing the hood of my cloak so the fresh breeze can cool down my face suddenly getting warm by the thoughts starting to swim in my head like watery porridge.

"You can't be brave without first knowing fear. To face what you do not fear is not to be brave." His hand pats my knee and I grunt; hating how his words make so much more sense than what I think and feel. "I will follow you, if you like. I know that you will find peace if you only look for it." He stands up, his hand extended towards me and I stare at it for a second; his skin slightly grey from the grindstone running over his blade.

______

I'm holding my breath when stepping in through the door to the Seer. Knowing Ubbe is behind me isn't much of a support where all I want to do is turn and throw me in his arms, escaping the fear of what I may know. But fear is not what we do, fear is not the solution to anything and I repeat in my head what Ubbe said about being brave. With the hand behind my back I close the door, fearing I will actually run if I looked back. Perhaps I don't need to fear. The Gods truly wouldn't put this on me if they didn't see me fit?

"You come with fear although it is not in your blood and you come with questions although the answers have already been given you." The raspy and old voice speaks even before I pass a wall to see him. The small house smells like dust, old age and dried blood. Everywhere are signs that the man sitting in front of me, hidden inside the black hood have been doing this for only Odin knows how long.

"I'm here because I don't understand them." I gulp, slowly finding a seat in front of the hunched figure and the smell of dusty and moth eaten clothes is all around him. So is the intense vibration of a presence I've only felt in my dreams.

"You come here because that fear is blinding you." He moves slowly as if he would break moving faster and when looking at me I see how the skin of his face is frail like old Birch bark and I start to believe that it could actually break if he wasn't careful. I grimace at his word, looking around. A pile of small bones, stones and antlers. Wood carvings, painted and carved runes. A shiver runs down my back like a cold finger following it from my neck to the low of my back.

"Why don't I remember anything?" I look at him from the corner of my eye, my hands clasped in my lap just as his. A small rumbling noice is heard from his chest where he tilts his head back as if watching the ceiling. But the scars where his eyes had been, can't see.

"You have forgotten-" He face me again and the stinging fear tickle my chest in a way that have me breath faster. "-so that you can focus on your task." The answer is not as bad as I thought, however it makes little sense and I frown.

"And what is my task? Why am I here?" The questions spill from my lips easily and amongst the fear a small curiosity is pecking my brain.

"The child. The child is your task; that is why you were set to this world." He hums for himself and new questions starts swirling inside my head. A child?

"What child?" I lean closer, my brows low over my eyes where I focus on his slow voice, trying to hear the meaning hidden behind every word.

"The child that will ride the waters and settle. The child who will allow the new beginning when the end is upon us." My heart skips a beat and I wince as if he'd struck me. I may not remember much and his words may be riddles but there's not one of my people that would miss the meaning of the last ones. A new fear settles inside and I clench my jaws.

"The child will allow the beginning after.." I swallow, the word so famous yet strange on my tongue. "After Ragnarök?" He hums, swaying a little in his seat before he face the ceiling again. My task is a child that will have it all start again? The realization strikes me that if a child of me would allow that then the end could not be far away. The thought is so staggering I open and close my mouth like a dead fish trying to find the right question. However I decide for a one that shocks even myself a bit.

"Who will give me this child?" My voice is a mere whisper. I know that what he knows is what is already decided yet a slight fear of whoever it may be, not wanting to give me a child is lurking inside my skull. Then; if this child is my purpose I would fail.

"He who sacrificed a part of himself for wisdom just like you did. He who is wise yet strikes fear in your heart and the world will father you this child." He shifts and if possible the thoughts have doubled and is now stinging my mind like a swarm of wasps. I search in my mind for the meaning, I search for a small memory that perhaps could induce a picture of someone like this I know.

"What have I sacrificed and for what wisdom? I am not wiser than the next." I mumble and the Seer sighs, or at least it sounds like it.

"Wisdom is not always knowledge. Wisdom can be the ability to handle and to do what has to be done. Wisdom is what makes a man, a man and a woman, a woman." I just stare at him in disbelief, knowing I will get nothing more out of him and as if confirming that thought he extends his hand, palm facing me and I put mine tendlery under it; his skin cold and dry. But as I am to open my mouth I stop myself, looking up to his face turned away like a King tired of helping the peasant.

"But why, why me?" I breath and for the first time it feels as if he can actually see me; the gone eyes seeing straight through me way past my soul.

"You are chosen by the Allfather, girl. Search within and you will find the spring from where your blood runs. A descendant from God and man shall birth the child that will be sowing the seed of the beginning at the end."

____

I stand outside the doors of the great hall, darkness soon eating away the last light lingering and tonight there's no stars or moon to be seen. Candles, a warm hearth and torches is the only source of light. As I suspected small and scattered snowflakes dances in the wind picking up in speed slowly. My mind is wandering like a man lost in the woods and my heart beats so slowly I would not be surprised if it decided to stop any second. All the words are running around inside my head, causing a light pain to spread behind my eyes and even though whatever fear I before held is gone; the emptiness of being so left out and drowning i ignorance is way more painful.

If I search within I find nothing but confusion and frustration and no matter how hard I try to remember anyone who even fit the description of the father of mentioned child ever so slightly, I fail. I remember no one. Perhaps I have not even met him yet. With a sigh I let my head fall back, the hood of my cloak falling off and the cold snow lands on my face, melting and rolls down my jaws and heats up under the collar of my dress. I have yet to tell Aslaug the details. The awaiting food caused us to have no time talking and in a way I was relieved. How will I explain what I don't understand myself? Ubbe had been asking how I was more than once during supper and I had repeatedly told him that I was fine. But I'm not fine.

"Why put this on me without letting me know what to do? How will I be able to serve when I don't know where to start?" I whisper to the sky and I do actually listen; just to recieve the sounds of the queen and her sons inside, Floki and Helga sharing our food as well. I can hear the people still outside and awake but I can't hear anyone coming with something I can use.

"Fool." I mutter to myself and when looking forward again I jump, a squeal spilling from my lips when something beside me catches my eye. On the bench beside me sits the young prince, staring at me as if I was the most strange woman he'd ever seen; the blue in his eyes curious and awake. I guess he could thank all the mead for that.

"What do you want? I don't have time for you mocking me so please drag yourself somewhere else if that's what you wish." I spit out and my aggitated hello have him blink, then feign shock and I roll my eyes.

"Here we dress and feed you, don't you think you owe me?" He snickers and I can feel the anger build inside. He's been at me, constantly trying to find my most sensitive spots and press it as hard as he can ever since he tried to strangle me during my first awake days. I learned pretty fast how to ignore him but it never calmed his fiery need to press at whatever spot he found, constantly looking for something new he could torment me with.

"I owe you nothing you little shit!" I snap, turning to him so when I lean forward my face is the same level as his. "I may owe your mother much but you-" I snarl, my teeth showing like I was a feral wolf and I realize that perhaps he indeed have succeeded pressing hard enough because it's way too tempting trying to strangle him. "-I owe you nothing but the back of my hand again." Perhaps I'm tired and confused but it dawns on me what I just said and Ivar don't look so amused anymore. His own teeth shows where he growls and the blue in his eyes grow dark and I can feel how he grabs my one wrist to yank me closer so that I can feel his cheek press to mine; his warm breath smelling of mead tickling my ear.

"Don't play with me One-eye. You are in no position using your mouth to disrespect me." He hiss and I swallow hard. I hate him, I hate him so much for being the little spoiled brat he is, never leaving me alone. Yet that strange pull is around me like an aura. It has been around since I first saw him; that strange sensation of that I should be right where I was; leaving his side being wrong and like walking towards the edge of a cliff and not back to saftey. But pull or no pull, I will not have him play around and mock me all day. I do my best avoiding him but he seems to be around whenever I want to be alone the most, no matter how hard I try.

"Oh and what am I supposed to do with it then, if not to treat you like you treat me, Boneless?" I smirk, not really knowing why. I pull back just enough so I can see his face; the grin on his lips surprising me and the way his tongue runs along the bottom row of his teeth, having his bottom lip pout; sends a strange warmth through my body.

"And how do I treat you, hm?" He tilts his head to the side, his eyes wandering over me with no shame and my face heats up, causing the cloak to feel too thick, too warm. I try to mentally put myself back into place, but the way his fingers snake around my small wrist and the way the blackness of his eyes glistens.. What is this?

"Like I was dirt." I try to sound strong, unaffected but I'm not entirely sure I succeeded. An airy laugh spills from his lips and I find myself staring at them. What is happening to me?

"And you say that is bad?" He cocks a brow and I frown, trying to yank my hand back but he just pulls me closer again; this time keeping his face in front of mine however. I gulp. "Have you not seen how I crawl around in it all day, woman?" My head spins at his whisper and whatever thought taking form inside my head I do my best suffocating it. I pull back and this time he lets me, looking mighty amused again and I press the hand he held, to my chest.

"I am nothing you can crawl over Ivar. I don't care how much you hate me but it will never matter to me." I hold my head high and for a second something vulnerable flashes past his eyes.

"Who said I hated you?" He calls after me where I walk past him, aiming for the doors. It is too much for just one day and I wish for nothing more than to hide away so I can ponder in peace.

"You did; when you started treating me like your beloved mud!" I call back but I stop dead in my tracks; a realization like a lightning cutting through my skull. My dream. The mud, full of blood and such strange pleasure I never wanted it to stop. My skin crawls when the idea is nesting and I hug myself tightly where I stare to the closed door of the great hall.

"He who sacrificed a part of himself for wisdom just like you did." The Seers words echoes inside. One-eye and Boneless.

"Have you not seen how I crawl around in it all day, woman?" Ivar's words comes back and my heart suddenly pick up the pace and the palms of my hands start to sweat no matter the cold.

No, that could not be. I've heard he can't even satisfy a woman; or at least that is what I've heard. And wisdom, Ivar is the last person I would call wise. Yet he does indeed strike fear in me; a form of fear I didn't know until he inflicted it upon me. No, that can not be.

[a-h-arts]

The book reads like a story and is very entertaining Effective book for someone who wants to begin to understand modern art. I bought this book because for years I had wandered through museums and became curious about modern art pieces. I found that when I took the time to understand a piece and what the artist was saying, I was grateful I did. Hence taking the plunge to educate myself more! This book contributed greatly to my understanding and appreciation of modern art. It was very readable in that the author tells interesting stories about the artists that really pull the reader in, and the chapters are sized that one chapter takes about 25 to 45 minutes to read. The book reads like a story and is very entertaining. I appreciated how well the different art movements were woven into the historical and philosophical contexts. Go to Amazon

Uneven but Enjoyable When Gompertz lets his personality show and the anecdotes flow, his prose and this book floats and flies; when he pauses at times for drier academic asides (or to simply fill in a historical gap where he has little interest or passion), it slows. As a whole, this book is a terrific and informative survey of the history of (Western) modern art, albeit with some extremely well-written sections especially at the bookends (Impressionism and the last two decades) and some that are unclear, rushed or dragged out (Dadaism, Fauvism). One shortcoming in this one (and frankly most work): almost no representation by non Western artists (except for political showman Ai Weiwei of course...) Go to Amazon

A really interesting introduction but THE PLATES ARE MISSING! SO DO NOT BUY THE KINDLE VERSION!!!! Go to Amazon

Entertaining, Enlightenting, Energizing The creative comparisons Will Gompertz made in explaining modern art were down to earth, drawn from real life, and most entertaining. Enlightening comes right behind as a descriptor, though, because he decodes and demystifies many difficult-to-understand artworks. He certainly energized me to research and read more. I often came back to his descriptions after the "artspeak" of some art historians muddied already murky waters. Gompertz says it in plain English. I wish there had been more on art of the last 20 years. Let's hope for a sequel. SMR Go to Amazon

Great for starters or as quick review A very good book. Great for novices or learned since it is written in a clear and enjoable manner. It is very useful also as a review or consulting manual. Quite up to date. I recommend it for anyone interested in art. Go to Amazon

I must admit I felt more comfortable looking at the early phases including Picasso's cubism I have no background in art history or art appreciation and this was an elaborate, thorough introduction of the progression from the impressionists to postmodernism. I must admit I felt more comfortable looking at the early phases including Picasso's cubism, than the later abstract phases, including a black circle on a white square, but Gompertz' analysis of each period was meaningful. Go to Amazon

informative and very readable Gompertz is a knowledgeable and entertaining writer. WAYLA offers a very coherent explanation of the puzzle of modern art --why works with very little technical virtuosity would be so well regarded, including why collectors and museums would pay such absurd prices. I learned a lot from this book. It introduced me to some art and some artists that I really enjoy. It confirmed some of my cynical presumptions about the art business but it also opened my mind. Go to Amazon

Just loved the wit Just loved the wit, insightfulness and great insight into a story that explains all the different movements and their rationale for existence. I had to look up every artist and painting mentioned if the images were not available in the book -but this merely added to my enjoyment and understanding. Go to Amazon

Perfect level book for this HS art teacher Highly Reccommended Clear and not pretentious Brilliant Great Art Overview very good overview. like his humor. An Excellent Modern Art Book Want to make the jump from poking fun at modern art to maybe understanding it a little

[a-h-arts]

The book reads like a story and is very entertaining Effective book for someone who wants to begin to understand modern art. I bought this book because for years I had wandered through museums and became curious about modern art pieces. I found that when I took the time to understand a piece and what the artist was saying, I was grateful I did. Hence taking the plunge to educate myself more! This book contributed greatly to my understanding and appreciation of modern art. It was very readable in that the author tells interesting stories about the artists that really pull the reader in, and the chapters are sized that one chapter takes about 25 to 45 minutes to read. The book reads like a story and is very entertaining. I appreciated how well the different art movements were woven into the historical and philosophical contexts. Go to Amazon

Uneven but Enjoyable When Gompertz lets his personality show and the anecdotes flow, his prose and this book floats and flies; when he pauses at times for drier academic asides (or to simply fill in a historical gap where he has little interest or passion), it slows. As a whole, this book is a terrific and informative survey of the history of (Western) modern art, albeit with some extremely well-written sections especially at the bookends (Impressionism and the last two decades) and some that are unclear, rushed or dragged out (Dadaism, Fauvism). One shortcoming in this one (and frankly most work): almost no representation by non Western artists (except for political showman Ai Weiwei of course...) Go to Amazon

A really interesting introduction but THE PLATES ARE MISSING! SO DO NOT BUY THE KINDLE VERSION!!!! Go to Amazon

Entertaining, Enlightenting, Energizing The creative comparisons Will Gompertz made in explaining modern art were down to earth, drawn from real life, and most entertaining. Enlightening comes right behind as a descriptor, though, because he decodes and demystifies many difficult-to-understand artworks. He certainly energized me to research and read more. I often came back to his descriptions after the "artspeak" of some art historians muddied already murky waters. Gompertz says it in plain English. I wish there had been more on art of the last 20 years. Let's hope for a sequel. SMR Go to Amazon

Great for starters or as quick review A very good book. Great for novices or learned since it is written in a clear and enjoable manner. It is very useful also as a review or consulting manual. Quite up to date. I recommend it for anyone interested in art. Go to Amazon

I must admit I felt more comfortable looking at the early phases including Picasso's cubism I have no background in art history or art appreciation and this was an elaborate, thorough introduction of the progression from the impressionists to postmodernism. I must admit I felt more comfortable looking at the early phases including Picasso's cubism, than the later abstract phases, including a black circle on a white square, but Gompertz' analysis of each period was meaningful. Go to Amazon

informative and very readable Gompertz is a knowledgeable and entertaining writer. WAYLA offers a very coherent explanation of the puzzle of modern art --why works with very little technical virtuosity would be so well regarded, including why collectors and museums would pay such absurd prices. I learned a lot from this book. It introduced me to some art and some artists that I really enjoy. It confirmed some of my cynical presumptions about the art business but it also opened my mind. Go to Amazon

Just loved the wit Just loved the wit, insightfulness and great insight into a story that explains all the different movements and their rationale for existence. I had to look up every artist and painting mentioned if the images were not available in the book -but this merely added to my enjoyment and understanding. Go to Amazon

Perfect level book for this HS art teacher Highly Reccommended Clear and not pretentious Brilliant Great Art Overview very good overview. like his humor. An Excellent Modern Art Book Want to make the jump from poking fun at modern art to maybe understanding it a little

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The book reads like a story and is very entertaining Effective book for someone who wants to begin to understand modern art. I bought this book because for years I had wandered through museums and became curious about modern art pieces. I found that when I took the time to understand a piece and what the artist was saying, I was grateful I did. Hence taking the plunge to educate myself more! This book contributed greatly to my understanding and appreciation of modern art. It was very readable in that the author tells interesting stories about the artists that really pull the reader in, and the chapters are sized that one chapter takes about 25 to 45 minutes to read. The book reads like a story and is very entertaining. I appreciated how well the different art movements were woven into the historical and philosophical contexts. Go to Amazon

Accessible introductory book to modern art movement I give tours at a local art museum and I have read several books on modern/contemporary art to help me explain this genre which many find inaccessible. Most books go into detail about the artist but not really addressing why they are viewed as significant. What I liked about this is that Gompertz talks about the major art movements, how one leads to another and how artists interacted with one another. He includes entertaining stories which illustrate his points. This book should be approached as an 'overview' not an in depth study. Recommend it as a good starting point for those who want to learn more on this topic. Go to Amazon

An Excellent Modern Art Book I used this to explain much of modern art history to my ten year old before a trip to MOMA. This was extremely helpful, especially when used with Understanding Modern Art (An Usborne Introduction) by Cook, J. (Cook's book was excellent, and a good place to start) and What Are You Looking At?: The Surprising, Shocking, and Sometimes Strange Story of 150 Years of Modern Art by Gompertz and ...isms: Understanding Modern Art ... by Sam Phillips. These three books can be very helpful and made our trip to MOMA very successful and enjoyable. Go to Amazon

Entertaining, Enlightenting, Energizing The creative comparisons Will Gompertz made in explaining modern art were down to earth, drawn from real life, and most entertaining. Enlightening comes right behind as a descriptor, though, because he decodes and demystifies many difficult-to-understand artworks. He certainly energized me to research and read more. I often came back to his descriptions after the "artspeak" of some art historians muddied already murky waters. Gompertz says it in plain English. I wish there had been more on art of the last 20 years. Let's hope for a sequel. SMR Go to Amazon

informative and very readable Gompertz is a knowledgeable and entertaining writer. WAYLA offers a very coherent explanation of the puzzle of modern art --why works with very little technical virtuosity would be so well regarded, including why collectors and museums would pay such absurd prices. I learned a lot from this book. It introduced me to some art and some artists that I really enjoy. It confirmed some of my cynical presumptions about the art business but it also opened my mind. Go to Amazon

Very enjoyable overview of modern art I really enjoyed this book; it was informative without being pretentious, as many art history books can be. The author very clearly charts the evolution of modern art from Impressionsim forward, in everyday terms and language that everyone can understand (no boring Artspeak). It was fun, amusing and really kept my interest. I would highly recommend it to anyone with an interest in art. Go to Amazon

Fun informative great read Excellent fun read now adopted by Docents Meadows Museum Go to Amazon

A Work On Art A tutorial on modern art by a British expert, written in a breezy, conversational style. Go to Amazon

very good overview. like his humor. Want to make the jump from poking fun at modern art to maybe understanding it a little I am so glad I bought it as it will be something I ... Perfect for anyone serious about the art world Five Stars Five Stars Five Stars Essential reading to understand the story of modern art Highly Recommended Art History for the masses