#back at it again with the little snippets of found family content

[neonnoir-ao3]

Need opinions on a name for my Spamtenna fic!

(Context & Poll under the cut!) (also taking reccommendations for name ideas in general!)

Disclaimer: some of the options kinda hint at spoilers within the fic harder than others, but nothing more than tags like “hurt/comfort”, “angst with a happy ending”, etc. would.

The Plot: It’s the modern day, and Anthony Tenna has more or less lived through his glory days already, but not in a bad way! He was on TV in various forms: at his height he had a slot in the late night block, but he’d hosted multiple game shows and even a talk show at one point. As he aged, he moved to writing about his exploits and producer roles rather than being on the screen. Now in his 50s-60s (age not decided yet) he’s living life peacefully, having finally come out in the 2000s and existing without fear and judgement due to both coming out and treatment for his lifelong mental health issues. However, he stills thinks about his business partner (and hardcore behind-the-scenes fling) who vanished without a trace after his company was at the center of a mass fraud investigation. He’s started to accept Vincent G. Spamton has likely fled the country to live on the beach in a non-extradition country for the rest of his life, and the two will never cross paths again… until he sees a homeless guy in an alley one day who looks a bit too familiar. Turns out Vince has been right under his nose the entire time, now a shell of his former self both mentally and psychically. When Vince has a health emergency in front of Tony, he takes it as an opportunity to get Vince off the street and nursed back to health, as well as to find out what the hell happened after he disappeared, and perhaps even start anew with one another.

THE OPTIONS:

Option 1 — Wherever Is Your Heart (I Call Home)

A county/folk song from a queer artist that, like... if this fic was a movie, this song would be the ending credits. However, might be a little weird with the first chapters and its contents (hurt before the comfort, y’know?) (May also reformat to Wherever Is Your Heart, I Call Home)

Propaganda:

“Though your feet may take you far from me, I know Wherever is your heart I call home” “I think it's time we found a way back home You loose so many things you love as you grow”

Option 2 — Mistaken for Strangers

From one of my favorite albums of all time (Boxer by The National). Might sprinkle some references in (or as chapter names/bookends) to the rest of the album because a lot of the songs could parallel themes in the story. Also, it literally describes the main event that gets the plot rolling.

Propaganda:

“You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends When you pass them at night Under the silvery, silvery Citibank lights” “Oh, you wouldn't want an angel watching over you Surprise, surprise, they wouldn't wanna watch Another un-innocent, elegant fall Into the un-magnificent lives of adults”

Option 3 — Keepsake

A 2000s indie folk song that really depicts the overarching theme/end goal of healing and reconciliation of some sort, lyrics are formatted so snippets could act as chapter names/bookend quotes. Title also goes well with the whole "[[trash heap]]! you kept it!" thing.

Propaganda:

"One gonna heal my body another gonna heal my pain One gonna settle me down then bring me back up again" "You're gonna keep my soul it was yours to have long ago" "I'm gonna put my family back together again"

Option 4 – Once Upon A Poolside

Another National-related one, but this one sucker-punched one out of nowhere (having not listened to it in months. The name is kinda funky/out of context, but this song is just so Spamtenna.

Propaganda:

“I thought we could make it through anything” “Everything is different, why do I feel the same?” “This is the closest we've ever been And I have no idea what's happening Is this how this whole thing is gonna end?”

[darlingghoulette]

That clip of Bob and Tina from Bob's Burgers where he checks her fever at the dinner table and she falls asleep with his hand holding her head up?

Yeah...

Joel and Ellie getting back from the firefly hospital absolutely wiped. Barely making it to the chow hall to eat.

The trip back was hard on her, both emotionally and physically. The anesthesia had made her sick and then the sun was unforgiving for most of their hike back. He's just going to reach over and check her temperature, give himself the peace of mind that she's--

When his palm makes contact she just completely slumps into him, dead asleep in a second.

And what is he going to do? NOT hold his hand there?? Some have called him a monster, maybe yeah, but he's not THAT kind of monster.

Watching him attempt to eat with one hand and not jostle his kid awake was when Maria knew Joel wasn't the threat to the community she had been envisioning.

The terrifying raider she'd heard about in stories, yeah. But not THIS guy with a numb arm who was perfectly content being drooled on and held hostage by a snoring teen.

Nah, they'd be fine.

[burningembers91]

The Beginning of Something Beautiful - Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to: The Girl Next Door Kimchi Stew

Synopsis: When Hawng In-Ho's past is revealed, he must decide whether to continue living with his demons, or run towards the light.

Warnings: mentions of deceased wife, sexual content, 18+ only!

It’ll get easier over time. That’s what Hwang In-Ho had been told countless times by friends, family and even strangers after the death of his wife. He hadn’t believed them at first, hadn’t wanted to think of a world without her. But lately, he’d started to understand what they meant. Yes, the pain was still there, and maybe it always would be, but each day he found it a little easier to get out of bed. He’d started making friends at work, had begun exercising again and taking runs through the park he’d spent so long looking at from his apartment window. He was learning to laugh more, to smile at the small things and to find beauty in the everyday. He was slowly letting himself open up to you, showing you small snippets of the man he’d once been; the man who liked to tell jokes, who loved vintage cars, and who got overly competitive when it came to board games. He still hadn’t opened up about his past, but he was showing the man he truly was, not the grumpy hermit who shut himself away from the world.

In-Ho was still an enigma, some kind of handsome riddle you hadn’t been able to solve yet. He was spending more and more time at your apartment but stopped coming over under the guise of fixing things. He started to come over just to hang out, to watch TV or to go for a walk. He’d even invited you over to his apartment. The once bare room was now full of furniture, the walls repainted and decked out with paintings and prints. He’d cooked for you, proving himself to be an excellent chef. There were so many things still unspoken between you, but you were happy.

You could still hear him crying through the thin walls though, could still hear the turmoil he faced when the lights went out. You’d sworn you’d heard him say your name at times, his strangled groans as he fought with himself between his lust for you and his undying devotion to the woman he’d married. He was finding it harder to resist you, falling into an anguished cycle of dreaming about your touch, and punishing himself for thinking about another woman. You had slotted so nicely into his new life, the woman who had brought him back from the dead. He wanted to repay you for everything you’d done for him, but how could he when you didn’t know how much you’d saved him?

He was stacking shelves at work when you arrived, basket in hand as you did your weekly shop. You both smiled when you saw each other, In-Ho offering a small wave as he added another loaf of bread to the shelf. “Poor man,” an old lady tutted next to you. “Such a shame.” “I’m sorry?” you asked, looking at the wizened figure next to you, her head shaking as she watched In-Ho. “His wife died,” she explained, “liver failure. Killed her and their baby. It almost killed him.” You stared open-mouthed as she walked off, leaving you shellshocked. If it was true, it would explain so much about the man you’d come to care for so deeply. You had to force your feet to move you around the store, filling your basket in sickening silence as your mind reeled.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask In-Ho about it, to ask whether his family had been so cruelly taken from him. it just wasn’t something you could casually slide into a conversation. You found it hard to concentrate at your next dinner, trying and failing to feign laughter at a story you hadn’t even heard him telling. All you could you see was a man whose family had been ripped from him. You wanted to hold his hand, to tell him everything would be ok. You’d spent so long thinking about whether your relationship would become something more than a friendship, and now you understood why it hadn’t.

Hwang In-Ho sensed the change in you, saw the pity in your eyes. Someone must have told you, must have tipped you off about his broken past. He knew it was Mrs Park. That old bat had never been able to resist gossip. He didn’t want to lose you, didn't want to risk you pulling away. he knew he needed to tell you about his past, knew he needed to come clean before you heard anything else. Every day he was finding it harder to remain alone. He was beginning to see a future with you, to see something other than the crushing loneliness he had resigned himself to.

Catching you one night as you entered your apartment, he invited you over for dinner. “You know about my… my wife,” he said, and he watched your eyes plummet to the floor. “Yes, sorry,” you admitted, “it was Mrs Park. You know what she’s like. Can’t resist a bit of gossip.” “I want to explain. There are things…” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence, didn’t know how to encompass his feelings into words. “Please join me for dinner,” he whispered. He hoped the desperation in his voice hadn’t been apparent. He didn’t want you to pity him, he’d spent enough time pitying himself. “Ok,” you smiled, “I’ll see you later.”

When you arrived that evening, In-Ho could feel his hands shaking. He’d prepared a feast, his small apartment filled with the scent of cooking and pine scented candles. You were so beautiful in your burgundy dress, clutching a bottle of wine in your hand as you entered. The dynamic had changed between the two of you yet again, and he was hoping tonight he could steer it in a more positive direction. He’d spent many a sleepless night wrestling with himself. He would always love his wife, but he couldn’t deny the life he wanted with you; the life he hoped you wanted to.

You drank wine, and ate dinner, and laughed as you both relaxed. He’d filled out over the last few months, his taut muscles visible through the fabric of his shirt. His smile and his eyes were a little brighter, and you found yourself getting lost in him as he told you story after story. “I’ve been so alone for such a long time,” he confessed. “I punished myself for something that wasn’t my fault.” He looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke the next words. “I love my wife, very much.” “I know you do,” you smiled sadly. You braced yourself for what was coming next, for the heartbreaking crush of rejection. “But… these last few months, they have meant more to me than you will ever know.” He downed the last of his wine for Dutch courage before continuing. “You have brought me so much joy, you’ve given me a reason to get out of bed every day. I had to keep finding reasons to see you, I had to keep pretending things in your apartment were broken because I didn’t know how else to tell you that I liked your company.” You laughed, your eyes glistening as you watch In-Ho expose his vulnerability. “I love my wife,” he repeated, “but you, I have feelings for you. Feelings I never thought I would feel again. I don’t want to deny myself happiness anymore. My family isn’t coming back, but I would be a fool if I didn’t try and make the best of my life. I’d like to try doing that with you, if you want me.”

Taking a deep breath, you braced your hands on the table. Tears streamed down both of your faces, both of you finding the courage to take the next step. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with tears. “Yes, I’d like that.” In-Ho laughed, a sound that came from deep within his belly. He stood, pulling you from your chair and into his chest. He smelled of fresh shampoo and cologne, his breath warm on your face as you looked into other’s eyes. Brushing your lips against his, you couldn’t deny the electricity between you. it had been bubbling for so long, from the moment you had turned up soaking wet on his doorstep. Your lips met once more, harder this time, more sure of yourselves. His hands snaked up your shoulders, his fingers coming to rest on the back your next. You tasted like Merlot and shea butter, and In-Ho couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He made love to you on his sofa, your bodies pressed together on the tiny 2-seater. Every atom of his body burned for you, your moans spurring him on as he explored you. He’d spent so many nights wondering how it would feel to be inside you, but nothing compared to the reality. You were so soft, so warm, and you fit so perfectly against him. It was like you had been made just for him. He held you as the sun came up, his fingers tracing sweet, delicate circles over your nipples. You could taste yourself on his tongue, your body still tingling from the pleasure he’d inflicted. You didn’t want to part, didn’t want to head back to the emptiness of your apartment, but you had to get to work. “When can I see you again?” He asked, pulling you in for one last kiss. “Tonight?” you smiled, brushing the tip of your nose against his as you leaned further into his arms. “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he whispered, watching you disappear into your apartment.

For the first time in over three years, In-Ho felt weightless. He whistled as he showered, hummed to the radio as he prepared breakfast. He’d taken a huge step last night, one he never thought he’d be ready for. He heart would always hold love for his wife and child, but now it had space for you too.

[yerimacoustic]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 ♡ 𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

❝𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ❞🕰️ 🍂

summary: when you and your ex husband receive a mysterious letter, the two of you are forced to confront confusing emotions and learn how to move forward.

content warnings: supernatural au, nonidol au, ghost hunter!seungcheol and reader, 90s au, seungcheol and reader are divorced, angst, cursing, horror themes, eventual fluff, lots of arguments, scary stuff, NO GORE. teaser: 800 wc. full fic: TBD.

notes: this is a TEASER for an upcoming s coups fic!! usually putting out little snippets first gives me motivation to write the damn thing lol but please interact if you like it! feedback is always appreciated

as you approached the front door of your small apartment, the wind assisted you in slamming it shut. the air stayed just as cold even once you found yourself sheltered within the thin walls, but you’d grown accustomed to it. you’d made a habit of sorting through your mail and listening to your voicemails without planning to respond to any of them, hoping that it would distract you from the cold.  

you plopped down at the kitchen table, pressing the speaker button and letting your chin rest in the palm of your hand once the receiver lay across the tablecloth.   

“you have twelve new messages. first message: 

“‘hey, y/n, it’s jeonghan. call me back. or else. okay love you, bye!’

“second message:

“‘jeonghan again! if you deleted the first mess-”

click.

“message marked for deletion. new message:

‘listen, we would all really appreciate it if you could come to bingo night. i know you’ve bailed on us the last…four or five times. or ten times, but who’s counting? anyways, call me back, or else. love you!’ 

you sighed heavily as you listened through the rest of jeonghan’s pleadings and eventually seungkwan’s rants. somehow jeonghan had convinced seungkwan to spam your landline with messages too, hoping that he would help persuade you to join them on their traditional outing. once again, you wondered why you had fallen into the habit of listening to messages without any intention of returning them. 

surprisingly, seungkwan and jeonghan weren’t the only ones lingering in your inbox. there was also a message from your boss, the pharmacy, and..

“‘hey… it’s seungcheol. please don’t hang up. i know you specifically told me not to use this phone number but.. okay, i won’t bore you with anymore excuses.’”

much to your own surprise, you chose to humor your ex husband. you continued to let the message play out. as you sat down at the table, you let the stack of mail fall to your lap while staring at the receiver in silence.  

“‘listen, i’ve been thinking lately and..i have a lot of regrets.’”

you snickered bitterly. 

“‘i know there’s not much i can say to make things better or.. change things that happened between us. hell, you’ve probably already deleted this message by now and i can’t really blame you for that. i don’t have a lot of time, i’ve ran out of change but.. i’d love to talk to you at some point. in person. if you’re up for that then.. you know where to reach me. bye.’

“to replay this mess-”

click. 

“message marked for deletion. your inbox is empty. you have no new mes-”

you slammed the receiver down and let out a heavy sigh. ever since the divorce, you felt like seungcheol had taken a part of you with him. you turned to isolation, ignoring family members and friends constantly in favor of drowning yourself in your work. you were able to keep up with the deadlines, but at a heavy cost.

it’s for the best, you kept telling yourself.

you digressed, flipping through the large stack of envelopes instead of dwelling on your own sadness. you were met with the all too familiar sight of bills, bills, and more bills until a thick brown envelope seemingly materialized from the bottom of the pile. you had no memory of picking it up or even seeing it in your mailbox. 

there was a wax seal in the center of the envelope, a dark red skull. a little on the nose, but alright. you ripped it open, taking note of the gorgeous stationery before focusing on the words written in cursive and immediately cringing at the foreign use of your maiden name:

miss l/n, 

i hope you don’t find this letter to be invasive or frightening by any means, but i’ve heard a great deal about your work. i’ve read a number of articles concerning your cases and i must say i am impressed. i’ve always admired believers of the supernatural, especially in a world filled with skeptics. 

i know you’re probably out of experience, given it's been a year or two since your last job and circumstances have changed, but i would love a chance to talk with you about an ongoing issue in my home. there’s voices, objects moving, frigid winds.. you name it. 

my home address is attached to this letter. please give it some thought and keep in mind i’m willing to pay you handsomely for your troubles.

best wishes to you. 

it wasn’t surprising to know that your mysterious client knew about your divorce, considering it was in most of the papers. at least the stupid journalists were considerate enough to leave most of the details out of their articles. 

but you were almost certain no one knew about your new home address except for your inner circle.

[dezinthecloud]

Several Sentence Sunday

I did disappear for a few weeks. Again. Thank you for all the tags this week, Wednesdays and Fridays included, @sophie1973 @onthewaytosomewhere @jmagnabo92 @miharaikko. Please consider this a tag back.

This is probably cheating but I posted a fic Loved Like Fierce Mountain Storms on Friday for Henry's birthday! It is a submission for the '100 Ways To Say I Love You' Challenge for the prompt: "It's My Treat". So, obviously I added as much as food and found family fluff as I could. Please consider a snippet of that for this week.

No pressure tags under the cut

Henry forgot all about this conversation until three weeks later, when Oscar appeared at his door with a giant box. “Hey Miho, Alex said that you’d be free. So, I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a mess.” “Are you hiding a body in there?” Henry asked, eyeing the box doubtfully. “No, I wanted to try those Jaffa Cakes you were raving about and I asked my UK contacts to get some,” Oscar grimaced. “Well, they fucking suck and I obviously can’t return them, so I thought at least someone should have it.” Henry blinked. “Your definition of trying something includes importing an entire store’s worth of content?” “I was being optimistic, you little shit! Remind me to never trust your judgment again,” Oscar chuckled loud, but looked nervously at Henry. “So, you will keep them?” Fifteen minutes later, Oscar had stuffed Henry’s pantry with a year's supply of Jaffa Cakes and was at the door. “Oscar,” Henry called, voice choking slightly. “Thank you. For the accidental order.” Oscar huffed out an embarrassed cough. “Well, for what it's worth, I hope they make you feel at home, son.”

You can read the whole thing on ao3 here.

Also trying to make a proper tag list finally. So, absolutely zero-pressure tags to: @tailsbeth-writes @dwell-the-brave @caterpills @msmarvelouswinchester @whispered-story @theprinceandagcd @porcelainmortal @alasse9 @dizzymisslizzie @kj-bee @stellarmeadow @anincompletelist @tinyarmedtrex

[k-s-morgan]

Those Gentle Slopes: Snippet

Thought to share a final snippet before the posting of the chapter! Have some protective Sebastian and unhinged Ciel)) Also, I have to say that when I'll be writing this chapter from Sebastian's POV, it will be probably creepier than anything that happened so far. He broke my plans and started getting a lot more physical than I expected, having a couple of unplanned realizations. Huh. I love the mystery writing.

--------------------

“Sebastian,” he barked. His commanding tone must have reached some part of Sebastian’s brain because he turned his head slightly, but he still didn’t let go, and this was infuriating as much as it was flattering.

Looked like not sensing his soul didn’t make Sebastian any less willing to protect him. He still got angry on Ciel’s behalf — angry enough to ignore his orders and common sense.

Good. But unacceptable. If speaking didn’t work…

Ciel stepped out from behind Sebastian and wrapped his hand around his wrist. Shivers of strange, heady heat blossomed all over his body when he sank into the inviting unnatural energy Sebastian was radiating, feeling it sing under his touch. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his head cool, but fortunately, Randall’s gurgling sounds helped a little.

And it seemed like he’d already succeeded in something — Sebastian was staring at him now, the deadly redness of his stare quickly softening to a more human shade. Holding his gaze, Ciel tapped against his wrist in rapid succession, recreating the secret language they had devised a long time ago.

Stop. This is an order. You’re still mine, you have to obey me.

He wasn’t certain it would work any better than his verbal commands did, but something about his new approach must have finally gotten through. Sebastian released his grip and let Randall crash to the floor like a sack of sand. He seemed far more interested in Ciel now — one of his hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and another one touched his chin, tilting his head back to reveal his neck.

The futility of this evaluation was blatantly apparent. Randall hadn’t managed to touch him, so whatever damage Sebastian was checking him for couldn’t be there. It was absolutely ridiculous, but for some reason, Ciel didn’t protest. He stood there patiently, allowing Sebastian to examine him to his satisfaction.

Finally, Sebastian hummed in contentment and let him go. Almost. His fingers slid down to Ciel’s wrist and stayed there, holding it firmly but unobtrusively. His attention returned to Randall’s panting form, and this time, Ciel caught the moment when the darkness flared in his eyes.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Sebastian uttered. A smile touched his lips, but it was as far from what a smile was supposed to be that even Ciel found it disturbing. “If you attempt to inflict any kind of damage on my Master again, the next time your family sees you, you will be chopped into more pieces than your daughter will be able to count. Perhaps I will feed your liquefied remains to her. Would you like that?”                

The desire for something Ciel couldn’t identify took over his rational thoughts again. He almost swayed on his feet, his skin burning, his lips parting in a pleased sigh. More waves of joy crashed into him when Sebastian placed his shoe on Randall’s ankle and pressed against it carefully. His movements seemed feather-light, but the bone cracked anyway, followed by Randall’s pained shout.

“It’s not broken,” Sebastian noted disdainfully. “Consider it your warning. You will leave this house and you will not bring anything that happened here up with anyone. Because I know where you live, and I know how to slip into places unnoticed.” The sharp grin he gave Randall was downright frightening, but Ciel felt like he could drown in it. He shook his head, hoping it would be enough to sober him up. His body was behaving in an increasingly odd way, and it was getting tedious to make sense of its incomprehensive needs and demands.

Wheezing but trying to keep all the sounds locked in his mouth, Randall stood up. He nearly fell down, a pained grimace twisting his red face. What was even more fascinating was the wetness of frustrated tears shining in his eyes. The sight was completely unprecedented, and Ciel stared at it greedily, committing every inch of it to memory.

“You may not believe it right now,” Randall said, his voice hoarse, “but there will be a reckoning. One day, the both of you monsters will die, and I’ll become the last thing you see.”

[iamdispleased]

Deciphering the Black Book pt. 2

BLACK BOOK ART CREDIT: @thirdchildart

Part One. Part Three.

It’s the table of contents, y’all! Let’s do this.

Spoilers: Hatchetfield. At this point, it’s just Hatchetfield. It’d probably be easier to list what I didn’t talk about or allude to.

I’m not going to, but it’d be easier.

Ment.: H.P. Lovecraft

This is will be broken into parts, and then my analysis will follow!

1.

Part One - History and [S?t_f_d]

[?]

theatre

Part Two - Into the black

[Th?]/Kingdom

oblivion

Analysis:

The word ‘theatre’ shows up three times and the word ‘oblivion’ shows up twice in the table of contents. The Starlight Theatre is obviously super important to point where I don’t really need to say anymore on that right now.

Not gonna lie, at first, I thought it said ‘Random’ and pictured Willabella Muckwab writing random thoughts. I’d really like to see those. I bet she has crude doodles. Anyways— Kingdom!

‘The Summoning’ - “We dance around the pentagram, and take all our kingdoms back”

‘Oblivion’ is not just a word, but a concept heavily explored by H.P. Lovecraft and Isaac Newton, and the musicals themselves.

To some, oblivion is the state of total blackness, a place where everything is and is not, it is nothingness, and the knowledge that something resides within it. Take your pick. The point is to find what that means to you.

2.

3.

(totally stolen from: @hatchetfieldtheories)

Part Three - the men

The contents of this section are the same as part four. It was just flipped.*

Analysis:

If it is ‘the men’, I assume it’s about the Hatchetmen. Maybe some family history and stuff like that. Weaknesses, favorite characters from Alf, your guess is as good as mine.*

4.

A[?]

1 - [?]

2. Theatre

3. rea[lm] of [?]

4. america

oblivion

Analysis:

Oop! Here’s ‘theatre’ and ‘oblivion’ again! Honestly? Shrug emoji. My closest guess would be places that are susceptible to the Lords in Black/the Black and White. Why? Because of the words ‘theatre’ and ‘america’. Let’s take a look at this simple snippet from Black Friday:

“Only in America could Wiggly take root ... You think that in the Netherlands, they’d give a shit about some toy? No, they’re too busy on their paid vacations and the free healthcare.” - Uncle Wiley (spitting bars)

Number one looks like the same scribble as the first bullet in Part One, though.* For number three, I see ‘r-e-a’ pretty clearly, so ‘realm’ is context clues based. We’ll mosey on over to Hatchetfield’s little bio.

“In a realm outside of reality, somewhere in the crossroads of imagination and nightmares, there’s a place— a small, mid-western town, where the forces of evil and chaos tug at the fabric of reality. Welcome to Hatchetfield.” - Nick Lang

5.

Part 4 - The Lords in Black

Pokotho

theatre

believe

[?]

never

[Nibbly/Nibbles(?)]

[Queen?]

[?]

[?]

Analysis:

The contents under Part Four are the same as Part Three, but were flipped by the actual artist to fill space (I assume).

Here is that word ‘theatre’ once again! Why do I think the word under it is ’believe’? Simple! In the song ‘The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals’, we get this line nearing the end:

“You gotta believe in something, Paul, gotta believe in stupid Paul”

It looks like ‘never’, it reads like ‘never’, and the word ‘never’ just fits the vibe.

Okay, wait— I was going to write about Nibbly and the Honey Festival, because while the Honey Festival wasn’t founded until 1945, Nibbly and the word ‘queen’ could still coincide for whatever reason, but even with that, the Lords are usually listed in the order of ‘Pokey, Blinky, Tinky, Nibbly, and Wiggly’, but that might be one of the outliers, but I just remembered the Queen in White and something about that made me excited. We’ll see. What I was going to write about Nibbly still applies, though.

6.

Help Me Don’t [go]

In The Black, Po[kotho?]

wants me to

Analysis:

Not everyone wants to tango with the devils. It might be ‘Pokey’, but it’s the same either way, and the person who wrote this was most likely not Willabella, considering she seemed pretty chill with the Lords in Black and it’s coloring is different. Still looks like it was written in blood though. When you dabble in the dark arts, don’t forget to take a pen with you.

Overall:

My question is— what counts as lore? I think this does. Anyway. Again. If anyone figures out what the fuck that word is after ‘History and ????” in part one, hit me up. I’m gonna challenge the word to a duel. What’s it gonna do?? Fight back?? Part three will be out at some point. Okay, bye.

* I assume the artist occasionally used the same art, but warped it to make it look different, so more space could be taken up, and there would be no pain of having to go through It All. I think Part 4 - The Lords in Black is the proper way to read it, though.*

Feel free to reblog and add to this post! I grant you my permission!!

Edit (12/16/24): Rather than Part Three being about the Hatchetmen, it could be that “family tree of eldritch horrors” Nick mentions.

[kngstrnz]

── .✦ ADAREKI songfic-ish snippet.

Song: hace mucho tiempo by daniel, me estas matando.

That castle of a home that was Ainosuke’s cage had been empty for quite some time. Coming back to it now that his little robin was gone felt like walking on broken glass. There was a time where it wasn’t always like this. When coming back home was something Ainosuke looked forward to each day. There was a time when he would be warmly welcomed. Always with a hug so tight and eager lips that begged to be devoured.

And that person that had claimed his heart had not been the one Ainosuke or Adam had been desperately chasing after. It had been the person Ainosuke least expected to see through him, to warm their way up to his heart until Ainosuke couldn’t take him away from them.

Reki Kyan.

Every morning, Ainosuke would be woken up by sweet kisses that would turn heated and how Ainosuke loved to hear those breathy moans and sweet cries of his name coming from none other than his lover.

Ainosuke sat there, in that empty cage as he tried to wrap his head around why he couldn’t have seen it coming. How Reki would bury his own sorrows in the beautiful garden that had seen better days. Withered away alongside the love between himself and whom Ainosuke once promised his eternity to.

Long ago, when Ainosuke could finally be himself to the fullest. When the halls echoed with a boy-ish laughter that illuminated his everything. Now, only soft sobs reverberated back as Ainosuke walked through those halls. Sobs he had caused. Time had slowed down for Ainosuke; it had stopped the moment Reki left.

Ainosuke was so numb to it all, so hollow he wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.

The reflection staring back at him is terrifying. He can only see this monster of a man with blood on his hands, on his teeth and the blood had belonged to someone he loved so dearly. Someone he promised to cherish rather than break unlike what his father had done to his mother. Ainosuke felt so ashamed of himself, he could never see Reki in the eyes again. Or Masae, or the Kyan family in general.

Ainosuke had been blind to everything a long time ago. When a home had slowly become a cage, when freedom became shackles and playfully teasing had turned into arguments. Shouting matches that seem to end in Ainosuke having the last word and Reki slamming doors. Many kisses ago that rather than tasting sweet, tasted bitterly salty. When Reki had no other option but to cling onto Ainosuke as he held tight onto his wrists it bruised.

Now that Reki was finally out of his grasp; had escaped from that cage that Ainosuke himself never left, Ainosuke found himself walking around like a haunting ghost. Desperately clinging to a past that he had taken for granted. Ainosuke found himself in their shared bedroom, looking around to find even the smallest trace of when Reki was there. There was a book in one of his drawers, buried deep inside their clothes. Ainosuke blinked, pulling it out and walking over to his bed. Sitting down as he opened to read its content.

“Ainosuke, I never thought you of all people would be the one to sweep me off my feet. I have never felt so full and happy and loved. And oh, how I loved you so Ainosuke. I adored you when you would show sides of yourself you haven’t shown others, not even Langa or Tadashi. I loved how your touch lit my whole body on fire, the way your lips would claim my skin and how you called my name so sweetly. I don’t think I can love another man like I love you, but please, for the sake of both of us, I need you to get out of my life.”

Your one and only,

Reki.

The only one left in that cage was Ainosuke and the echoes of a time he had taken for granted.

[fronzie]

Birds of Valhalla analysis

okay so birds of valhalla ep 3 dropped tonight (meaning bvz 6 is possibly in the making if not gba please take a break!!!) but I wanna go over some things. Birds Of Valhalla is written and mostly voiced by @goodboyaudios

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS TO THE SERIES EPISODE 3

so the memory stuff, we’re going through the different series gba has. we had Ulysses/Odysseus and Poseidon/Neptune in a conflict with the telescope. where are they from? The Alien God series with Little One/Pandora. With Ulysses in the ‘Fourseen’ and Neptune from Pandora. But oddly, it’s a moment of despair. Neptune holding Ulysses back from seeing his family because of the ‘trial’. We can tell this is post 7~ years with the mention of the ‘sea witch’ Calypso with quote;

[6:38 - 6:48 - Valhalla’s Hidden Secrets Revealed by Twin Ravens ft. DadeAudio & GavVAyt]

“ you seem pretty content with that sea witch~ ”

“ calypso… how did you know about that? ”

So tldr, we can say that the memory is a moment of despair and conflict for one party whether it be a king and a cheater begging with a space god or a space pirate standing up against a genocide.

Bring in Episode Three; Twin Bird Boys Find A Sword. I want to believe that it’s a new version of Yargwen’s sword but idk. To the main lore, this is when Mortallous (?) loses his arm. Because of Pre Space Pirates genocide of the Octopoids. While in the hallucinations, the words “Stop….You’re scaring me.” flash on the screen as someone (we can guess it’s Yargwen) gasps slightly. This could be a relation back to Space Pirates. I forget the exact episode but S1 Kalamos says that to Yargwen when he and Paradise are arguing about god knows what.

FOUND IT. I FOUND IT. Episode 3 Season 1 of Space Pirates, Rescuing an Octopus Boy from Pirates! (ft. KindredSpiritASMR and DandyArtVA) [M4A] - Timestamp is 9:42 - 9:46

“ Yargwen! Stop. please… you’re scaring me. ”

Now this may be just me overthinking but what if the flash is a reference to the line Kalamos said? Mind you, Mortallous and Yargwen fight because of the genocide of the Octopoids. Which Kalamos was. SO MAYBE

THEORIES FOR LATER BoV EPISODES;

i think we’ll see important lore snippets from finished gba series. we got Fourseen/Pandora, SPS. Maybe MoTH next hopefully with a skull? (like frank rip my guy) or maybe the Querian Saga I need to listen to? Or who knows! May even be a reference to another series he vas in like Bought by a Noble by Siren Son or the Mobster Series by Ycey Narrates! Wait. Maybe we might even get a little teaser for a possible new series in the memory snippets! Who knows!

if you made it this far thank you for reading my insane ramblings. it’s ~22:09/10:09PM and i have an exam tomorrow so yeah. if some of my phrasing makes no sense that’s because im really really tired. gba if you’re reading this hello again!! please remember to take breaks in between all of your masterpieces knowing how drained someone can be after working so long :)

[litnerdwrites]

Clandestine Affairs - Lust X OC (II)

A/N: Okay, sorry for the wait on chapter 2, but it's my birthday on Saturday, so I want to get through as many of my obligations as I could so I could enjoy my weekend with it. I can't promise that the next chapter will be out in a timely manner either though, since my sister's birthday is exactly a week from mine, and I'll be prepping for hers. I'll be back at it after that, hopefully.

However, I did get myself the Waterstones exclusive edition for Throne of the Fallen. Beautiful cover, sprayed edges. No bonus content, which is sad. I really wanted to read it, but I still love how it looks on my shelf. I also really want to read Heartless by Marissa Meyres, but I'm having trouble getting started. Motivation? Anyone? On a side note, would y'll like to see me write short snippets for some fun prompts every now and then? Just for fun, and hopefully get some writing critiques if anyone has any.

Feel free to comment what you think will happen next, or what you hope will happen next. Also, requests are open, and let me know if you want to be added to a tag list. I do have some Euphemia content I'm editing. Hopefully, I'll have it up next week, if not chapter 3, since that is where things are going to start getting a bit more interesting, now that I've set things up.

WC: 1509

TW: Nothing outside the canon typical.

Masterlist Kingdom of the Wicked Masterlist Clandestine Affairs Masterlist

Something felt… different. 

Despite not having slept, spreading the night dancing and chatting with the Malvagi instead, Amara felt… Lighter. 

She found herself humming softly as she walked into Sea & Vine for breakfast, waving at shopkeepers setting up their stalls for the day, and even stopped to indulge in idle chatter with the few who had some time to spare. 

It wasn’t until she found herself outside of the bookstore her family ran that she felt those imaginary cinder blocks appear around her ankles again. Each step seemed to take more effort than the last, as she forced herself to lift her feet instead of dragging them, and the invisible chains seemed to double in weight as she raised her foot to remove her shoes.

Amara’s heart rate picked up with every tiny noise she made as she entered her father’s store. The click of the door opening as she turned the handle had her pausing in apprehension, before timidly pushing open, only as far as necessary to squeeze her body through. Amara stiffened further and further, for every second that the hinges creaked, or the floorboards squeaked beneath her. She flinched as the bell above the entrance rang, alerting potential occupants of presence, but when nobody came, she gently pushed the door shut, shoulder staying hunched and stiff as the bell rang again, softer this time, and the door fell shut with a thud and a click. 

It was silent for another beat, before quickly slipping her slippers back on, she creeps through the store, to the back, and finds her way to the kitchen. Only once she’s shut the door, does Amara let out a tiny, tentative sigh of relief.

Rolling up her sleeves, she begins tittering about the kitchen, grabbing eggs, flour, sugar, and other ingredients, to start on breakfast. Within an hour, the Cornettis are in the oven, and the table is set with bread, jam, and freshly brewed cappuccinos, so she took the chance to head upstairs and take a quick sponge bath before changing. She paused momentarily when she heard voices from up the hall and rushed back down again, as silently as possible while the voices turned into movement, prompting me to be quick. 

It was only when the table was set to perfection did she hear footsteps headed down the stairs. She took the opportunity to duck into the back garden, and begin setting up the various seating areas that could be accessed by a side door in the store, that leads down a quaint little path, to the back garden that overlooks the beach and ocean. 

Even without taking count, there were more boats bobbing over the water, amongst white foamed waves, now that it was daytime, then there were last night. Light reflected off of the azure pool, concealing the darkest depths below. 

Peaceful. At least on the surface. 

The thought was uncomfortably familiar. 

In the quiet of the early morning, Amara found her mind drifting back to last night. 

She had danced with the Prince until her feet ached, losing herself in every glide and tug and twirl. Music, unlike any music she’d heard in their mortal realm, echoed, even now, in the depth of her mind. Elegant, like something you’d expect to be played for nobility, yet something about that music touched her very soul, as if it somehow had hands and puppeteered her body through the motions while her mind drifted, though it never drifted too far from her dance partner. She had only really clocked the hours passing when she felt herself slump against Lust’s arm, and her breaths came out in pants. 

When she’d moved to pull away, she’d almost collapsed into the sand after feeling the white hot pain shoot through her feet. Lust gave her a crooked grin, and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to a nearby rock formation. With a surprising amount of tenderness, he’d placed her down and begun removing her shoes, the grin widening when he noticed how much she’d worn them through in the hours they’d danced, and seemed pleased by it. At some point, a goblet, likely worth more than every store on her street, filled with water, and some cookies, frosted in purple and silver royal icing. They looked like something foreign nobility would have at tea parties or concerts. 

She raised a brow at Lust, before taking a hesitant bite. The sweetness had her eyes widening and cheeks going red. Lust merely snickered at her, to which she huffed, and attempted to kick him, only for him to catch her foot easily from where he stood. With an all too calm expression, he began inspecting her foot, eyes narrowing every now and then, as though he were a doctor. He even began tutting her when she tried to pull it back. Then, that cursed demon had threatened to resort to ‘his own brand of discipline’ should she attempt to assault him again.

Her eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of her flushed cheeks, and the way she froze in place at the memory. At the time, she’d huffed and turned back to her biscuits, with red tinting her cheeks, but now, as she thought back to that moment, she felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach. 

Anxiety, surely. 

“Amara!”

She flinched at the voice that so rudely pulled her from her thoughts. 

“Oh, good morning father,” she greets, quickly walking over to him, shoulders stiff, “Did you like your breakfast?” 

He pulled his eyes from the set up back garden, turning to examine her. 

Amara remained stiff under his gaze. 

“Breakfast was a bit… much, this morning, Amara,” he comments. “Do go easy on it tomorrow, lest we run out of food for lunch and dinner,” 

“Yes father. I’ll do better tomorrow,” 

“Oh, and Amara? Later this week, go into town and use some of your salary to buy something… respectable to wear. We’ll be having guests over next week,” 

“Yes father,” 

He smiled down at her, before pulling her forward, into his chest. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m going to open the shop. Make sure you have a quick breakfast before coming down to help too,” 

Amara barely suppressed her squeak as her father pulled her into his arms. 

“Y-yes father,” 

“Pardon?” he asked, tightening his grip. 

“Yes father,” 

She spoke clearly, willing herself not to stutter. She shrunk under his touch, as her father ruffled her hair, before he went back inside. 

Amara didn't move. 

Clasping her hands together, she inhaled a deep breath, before exhaling again. 

Then inhaled again. 

And released it.

Again.

Release.

Once she felt as though her nerves weren’t at risk of frying her brain, Amara went back towards the kitchen. Silently, she took in the empty platters, and cups, with little more than crumbs left over. Sighing, she began washing the dishes, putting everything away. After helping herself to the very last slice of bread, smothered in some homemade jam, she headed out to the store front. 

“That took a while. You weren’t dallying were you, sweetheart?” 

“No Father. I cleaned up, ate, and came straight out,” she quickly assures.

He ruffled her hair again, pressing down slightly harder than necessary. 

She suppressed her wince. 

“Just don’t take so long next time, alright?” 

“Yes father,” she nodded when he left. 

Amara watched as her father wandered into the back, likely going up to his study to work. As he left, the tension left her shoulders, just a little, and a sigh of relief escaped her. 

How long has it been since it happened? 

Weeks? 

Months? 

Part of her didn’t want to believe that it’d been so long since her mother had been found dead in an alley, heart carved from her chest. She’d been there for most of the night, it seemed, left to rot. Amara had broken down by the corpse, prepared for burial at the church. She’d sobbed and screamed and begged the Goddesses to bring her back until- 

The ringing of the bell drew her from her thoughts. Amara spun on her heel, ready to greet the first customer of the day, a bright, welcoming smile on her face. 

“Good mor-” 

The parchment gently landing on the desk in front of her caught her eye. 

She glanced left.

Then right. 

Then towards the door. 

Despite clearly having heard the bell ring, the store was empty, and the door shut. Nothing had been moved, or altered, aside from the tiny slip of parchment now resting on her desk. 

Reluctantly, Amra reached for it, examined it. 

Then she glanced left again. 

Then right again. 

Then she slowly unfolded the parchment.

A sharp gasp was pulled from her lips at the contents. 

She staggered back. 

The parchment fluttered from her fingers to the ground. 

Miss Willows,  I found such enjoyment in your company last night, that I find myself craving more. In exchange for a sinfully delightful reward, please come grace me with your company once more, where we shared our last dance.  Forever yours, L. 

[ly-art]

Chapter 19 of my Solas x Lavellan fic (NSFW content)

I'm so happy to be so early this time, and I proudly present my next chapter! And I wrote smut again. I couldn't stop myself, lmao a snippet of the current chapter can be found below!!

But it did bother her. The thought of him with anyone else made her chest tighten. She couldn't shake the image of him whispering sweet words to another woman, touching her the way he touched Amatisha, making her feel the way he made her feel. She hated it. She couldn't help but wonder about the life Solas had led before the Inquisition, before their paths crossed in Jader. Where had he lived? Who were his family? What kind of person had he been? Her jealousy melted into curiousity, a burning need to know more about this mysterious elven apostate who had become her mentor, her friend, and now her lover. His pace increased, and she gasped, her hips riding his fingers in a wild frenzy. Her body was no longer her own; every shred of self-control had vanished. It didn't take long for her to reach the edge, his touch finding the perfect spot, adding another finger to her behind. She shattered, stars exploding behind her eyelids, her vision going black. But when the blinding light faded, she was no longer in her quarters with Solas. Instead, she stood before a tall, middle-aged elven woman with golden hair that seemed to capture the sun's very rays. Fashioned into what seemed like horns, reminiscent of a dragon, it lent her an air of danger rather than absurdity. The woman's ethereal and regal beauty was accentuated by her narrowed eyes as she fixed her gaze on Amatisha. It was like standing before a god. The woman's red gown, embroidered with golden vines and flowers, exuded authority, judgement, and *power*. Her blazing eyes seemed to pierce through her, and when her mouth tugged upwards, Amatisha *knew*. *That woman can see right through me. I don't know how or why, but she can. It's terrifying. I need to get out of here.* "A little bird has wandered where it shouldn't. I wonder what will happen if I clip that birds adorable delicate wings and pluck its feathers. Perhaps then it will learn to keep its beak out of matters that do not concern it." Her voice was gentle, almost sweet, but the underlying threat, the horror rippling off her, couldn't be contained. The woman's eyes flared, the gold intensifying to a dangerous shine. Fear wrapped its icy arms around Amatisha. It wasn't just the sheer power emanating from her; it was the familiarity. Recognition settled in, bringing with it a new wave of terror. This woman was like *him*. A monster. A predator. A queen. Amatisha could feel the woman's power reaching for her, golden tendrils that sent her into a silent scream. When they touched her, she jerked back, finding herself once more in her quarters, in Solas's arms, sweat trickling down her back.

You thought I'd put the smut here right? Nope lmaoo

Also, I'm sorry for not posting a lot, I'm juggling work, writing on 2 fanfics and a book aaaand currently reading ACOTAR lmaoo

[aceemup]

Content: You’re insecure about your voice, Leo tries to help with cuddles, kisses, and even more. (as in more than suggestive, reader discretion is advised, gender neutral)

Note: English isn’t my first language and this is my first time writing, please be nice!

A sweet and carefree melody sings from your phone, a love song plays in the background of a video. The tune is catchy and you feel yourself grooving, the small snippet of the song ending

“Watcha watchin’?” Leo peeks over, legs crossed while holding a comic. It’s the Jupiter Jim comic you found in the back of an obscure alleyway, seeing it all alone and grimy made you feel things, and now it’s all cleaned up with a home and a family.

“Some art.” You reply, the video replaying again automatically. The two of you are in Leo’s room, sitting on his bed, wasting the time away together. “The songs reminding me of another song but I can’t fucken remember it.”

“Sing it to me.”

You chuckle out of nerves. “No thank youuuu~”

“Aaww c’mon! Why not?” He exclaims, putting the comic down. “You’ve sang infront of me before!”

“Trueeee but no.”

“Oh pleaseeeee~?”

Back and forth forth and back, you two banter it out. The more he insists, your heart weighs a little heavier, only slightly.

“Leo please, you know I don’t like singing infront of people.”

“You don’t sound that bad- I mean, not that you sound bad!!! You’re amazing!!!”

“Stop lying~” You chuckle, feeling a little down from his incessant barraging.

Leo notices this, and stops. Pausing to think about his actions and what he should do. He then smiles back up at you.

“Okay, you don’t have to sing. But baby,” He reaches to hold your hands in his gently, caressing them ever so slightly. “believe me when I say I love your voice. I really do! And- and I’m sorry for upsetting you. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about yourself.”

You look into his eyes, his dilated pupils make him seem genuine along with his smile, but there’s still a nagging feeling that lingers. “Thank you.” You respond, squeezing his hands. Upon your smile, Leo leans in to place a kiss on your lips, followed by another, and another, until it becomes something a little more.

~~~

It soon becomes a makeout session. Leo pulls you onto his lap, one hand to steady your hips and one to cup your face. His pecks are slow and gentle, with a subtle hint of mellow on his lips. They get firmer, small sounds coming out of your mouth as he takes on nibbling.

An idea sparks in Leo’s head.

A mischievous smirk appears on his face as his lips graze down to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb. He plants that smirk onto your skin, before taking a harsh bite right after. It makes you gasp. And in turn he nips harder and faster, the amount of bruises forming can rival how much noises he’s elicited out of you.

“You sound just like a thousand angels~” He coos, now gnawing down to your collarbones. You grab the tails of his bandannas and yank at them, making his head tilt back. “Hey! mph-!” Mouth smashing onto his, your grin is embedded into him. Now he’s the one making noises while you chew on his lips.

“Hn- I’m supposed to be the one making you feel better!” He giggles, securely his hands hold your back and your head, moving to lay you down onto the mattress. As your head sits comfortably on the pillow, his lips return in a trail of kisses moving down to your chest, your stomach, and even lower. Carefully he removes your bottoms, throwing them off behind him. Hands on your thighs, he spreads them and pecks softly at your knees, going down to your valley, lips barely touching the fabric of your underwear.

Meanwhile, you’ve been struggling at keeping your noises down. It’s getting harder to breathe, each bated breath keeps you wanting more, but hearing yourself even pant feels like nails digging into sandpaper. Leo suddenly bites on the fabric, and pulls your clothing off. He looks up at you with eyes full of lust, waiting for your permission.

You nod, and he dashes forward. Tongue lapping relentlessly as your nails dig into his bedsheets. One of his hands traces up and down your spine, arching your back, somehow making everything feel intensified. “Don’t hold them back, I love hearing you love this… hearing you love me~” and that’s when it hit you.

Leo wanted to make you hear how alluring you are, he wanted to make you feel how he feels when he hears your voice. He was taking his time, he wants you to understand his message, he wants you to know he means what he says. What better way to do that than show you? After all, actions speak louder than words. And for now, you believe him.

You let your mouth open, you finally let out a proper moan. Leo smiles as he continues, taking pleasure in the sound of your voice. He slows down and comes back up to meet your face “Cherry flavor, want a taste?” He jokes, leaning in for a kiss. Unironically, he did taste like cherry, or rather, you tasted like cherry.

Suddenly, Leo adjusts himself onto you and you feel his tip at your entrance. He stops everything for a moment, looking deep into the depths of your eyes.

“Are you ready?”

…

“Yes”

He starts moving into you slowly, being careful of his size. He’s gentle, he doesn’t want to hurt you… but he gets a little too excited and moves faster, deeper, and in turn you clench harder, get louder. “That’s it, that’s it sweetie… you’re doing so well~” he thrusts harder, one hand on your back while the other caresses your face, holding you firmly like he’s afraid you’ll turn away, not that you could or want to.

He loves the feeling of your sighs on his skin, swallowing every ounce of love you give him. His pace falters, he’s close to his peak and so are you. Fingers digging into his shell, your voice pleads his name like a broken record, singing for him. “Ah- don’t you look good with this lil thing~?” He teases through his panting, patting the bulge on your belly. His giggles vibrate throughout your whole body with the connection you two have at this moment, and it feels so good. “C’mon- ugh- cum with me, please~” he moves faster and faster, going in and out as he chases after his climax, and in turn making yours get closer. “Ughn~ fuck-!”

You hit your peaks at the same time, with you letting a drawled out moan. The air is filled with needy breaths, the aroma of arousal, and of course, love.

“Ah … ahh… how was it~?” Leo teases with a smirk, despite being worn out.

“Ha… probably what I needed~” You smile back at him, more exhausted than he is with his literal monster cock that he just pushed into you.

“My reassuring words or my little bit of loving~?”

“Both~”

Giggles erupt from the both of you, Leo placing his forehead onto yours as he closes his eyes, wanting to relish this moment together.

“Cuddles?” He opens one eye to look at you, it gives him a sultry look.

“Always~”

His arms engulf you as he lays on top of you, sticky from the sweat you’ve both accumulated. He snuggles his head into the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly. You smile down at him, planting a soft peck on whatever part of him you could reach, and in this case it was his forehead.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

“For this, for caring about me.”

“I’ll always care about you, besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t care about you!” He props himself up again just to return the kiss to your forehead, lips curved into a smile. “Speaking of caring, let’s get us a hot shower~”

“Us?”

“You don’t wanna come join me~?”

“I didn’t say that~”

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

How about a 24 from your Spotify wrapped drabble? My lucky number <3 and if you're willing to give us a peak of some other characters we didn't have a chance to meet properly yet, that would be most lovely. Say, Mergus or Tilda or Ben?

I apologize for the long wait. Please have some Tilda being sorta cute with Ben as they lounge in bed. (And if you missed it, there's also this snippet featuring Tilda I did last year for Whumptober.)

Spotify Wrapped #24: "Afterglow" by Scandroid

Words: 808

Content Advisory: Sexual themes and banter (nothing explicit depicted), thoughts of cannibalism(?), reference to past murder/violent events

Though Tilda remains awake, the wolf beneath her skin sleeps. Even if it were conscious (alert, aware?), it wouldn’t have had the energy to pace behind its cage of human flesh and bone like usual, ready to escape through the first weak spot it found. Ben has made sure of that.

Tilda closes her eyes, listening to the sedate beat of Ben’s heart directly beneath her ear. Each of his breaths lifts and lowers her as if she were a skiff riding an ocean swell. He’s hot as a furnace wherever their bare bodies touch, brimming with life despite conventional wisdom about vampires. More often than not, Tilda finds she’s the one who’s always cold, as if the wolf has swallowed her core, stealing all warmth for itself. Little about her life since she stole the family curse has followed expectations. That’s not a complaint more often than not.

Ben’s chest hair tickles her cheek as Tilda tilts her head to peer up, up, up at his sleeping face. There’s just so much of him in every direction. (Then again, she’s relatively small, even compared to national averages). She tries to imagine having met him on campus and a smile flickers across her face. His crooked nose and scarred knuckles would’ve made him an outlier among the veneers and surgically-precise symmetry of the country’s elite children. The sleek young men of the rowing and lacrosse teams would’ve scattered before him like jackals wary of a lion. Her smile turns into shaking with silent laughter.

There’s a glimmer of aged whiskey-brown as one of Ben’s eyes cracks open. “What’s the punchline, blondie? Not my performance, hopefully.”

“No. Just wondering if I would’ve gone home with you if we’d met at a party at my university or something.”

Both eyes are alert and fixed on her now. “And? What’s the verdict?”

“In your favor.”

A seismic rumble of satisfaction comes from the depths of his torso. “Groovy.”

“I would’ve left before you woke up, though. Nothing personal.” She’d gone into the majority of sexual encounters simply to feel something. Whether that was wild abandon or disgust hadn’t mattered. Whoever she’d gone to bed (or into a bathroom stall, or backseat of a car, or dark corner of a bar) with had been unwitting sacrifices in a ritual. One that allowed her emotions to rise from the grave and cavort before the sun rose again.

“Ouch. Can’t let a guy have a little pride for even a second, huh?”

“Your ego’s not fragile.” He’s easily among the most generous and easygoing people, human or otherwise, she’s ever met. Even at times when his usual warmth blazed into rage and his smile sharpened to a snarl it’s always been on behalf of his friends, his family. It’s one of the many things she loves about him.

She catches her choice of words under a mental jar to examine later.

Ben slides a hand up her spine and into her hair, massaging her scalp. Rough calluses on his fingers and the heel of his palm make for a pleasant kind of scratchiness. He easily cradles the entire back of her skull. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing compliments once in a while.”

Closing her eyes, Tilda rests her chin on top of her hands to give him a better angle. “Hmm. Well, I wouldn’t dream of leaving now.”

“You do look pretty cozy there.”

“I like listening to you. Especially with all the different turns of phrase you’ve picked up over the years. And you’re funny.”

“So, I’m good in the sack and I could hack it as a clown, is what I’m hearing.”

She considers mentioning that her mouth waters whenever the wolf first catches his scent. That every time she has to stop herself from biting and ripping and digging into the softest parts of him until she can work outwards into chewy muscle and the crunch of bone. Instead, she tells Ben, “You’re okay at baseball, from what I can tell.”

An earthquake of laughter erupts underneath her. Tilda grips Ben’s shoulders to keep from being shaken loose.

“I’ll take it,” he says once the tremors have settled. “Hell, that’s three more things than some people said I’d ever be good for.”

“Really? Not even at fighting?”

“Sweetheart, if I was any good my beak wouldn’t look like God’s hand slipped while slapping me together.”

“You’re a lover, not a fighter then.”

“I got a lot of endurance and know how to take an ass-beating, is what I mean.”

She drags her fingertips over the swell of his chest and down his sides, indenting muscle and fat. Her nails leave faint red trails behind for an instant before they heal. Tilda smiles when he shivers.

“How much endurance?” she asks.

The wolf sleeps, but that doesn’t mean she has to.

[matcheadz]

HoS or Host of Seraphim Update!

NaNoWriMo did not work out! Woohoo! Anyway, here's your next chapter. Chapter 14: Devil's First Communion. I like food. You like food. I made myself hungry multiple times while writing this.

In this chapter, we follow Kyrie and her struggle with the intersection of her abandoned faith and motherhood. Kyrie doesn't understand Vergil, nor does she think she'll ever care to. But he means something to Nero, and thats what matters. All she can do is look out for her family and hope that the world, not Sparda, will look upon her favorably.

Also Kyrie WANTS her man, so mild warning for that.

Here's a spoiler-free snippet!

Nero smiled at her. “Hey.” Kyrie flushed. “Oh. Hello.” “Sorry about the water. Dante stuck his head under the sink instead of using the shower like I asked. “ Nero looked up at his spectral hands, still holding firmly onto Kyrie’s waist with his own human hands. “These are new.” He hummed appreciatively. “Where’d you get these from?” “Um. Lady thought of us while out with Trish. I was just about to put them away.” “That’s nice of ‘em. Let me help you.” “No. I quite like it here, actually.” It was Nero’s turn to flush this time. He bit his cheek, stifling a small smile as he brought her upright again. Kyrie giggled at him, pleasantly content in watching him turn his back to her and open the cabinet doors. “At least someone was able to do a little gift-giving” Nero sighed, stacking the porcelain safely away. “Client was so sure he had some kind of poltergeist scratching at the walls in the house. Turns out it was just a rat infestation. Had their tails all knotted together. Scared the absolute shit out of me. Dante wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it until he found out the hard way they were interested in the issues with the home’s septic tank.” Kyrie stifled her laughter at the image with an attempt at a sympathetic little hum. To ease the blow, she walked up behind him, encircling her arms around his chest and pressing her cheek to the middle of his back. In the last few days, Kyrie had found this angle to be the best way to listen to the sweet little purrs that had appeared after that dramatic stage play in the backyard. The rumble increased as she nuzzled into him. “I’m glad you two are spending more time together.” She whispered quietly. Nero’s back jolted with a soft exhaling of amusement. “Yeah well…I guess I have more reason to now that I know he’s not just ‘some guy.’” Nero turned in his spot, resting his lower back against the kitchen counter to gaze down at her sweetly. The flesh of his hands came down to rest again at her hips, thumbing barely perceptible circles over the band of her skirt. His spectral arms hesitated above them in the air, before slowly placing themselves over her shoulders. Strangely, Kyrie felt no weight, even as they made the shoulders of her blouse crease. “I think you and I both knew he wasn’t just ‘some guy,’ mio tesoro.” Kyrie whispered, reaching up onto the tips of her toes to meet his face.

[madphantom]

There hasn't been much Sarah content lately but I'm almost done so new snippet

The next morning after that peculiar night was unusually clear and cold. I woke up early after a few restless hours of dreaming. Sarah was still asleep and I let her. She looked too comfortable to be disturbed.

I got dressed and decided to go down to the lake for a swim. Upon opening the door I was momentarily blinded by the morning sun and squinted.

And then I saw it and it took my breath away.

There, on the edge of the forest, stood a white shape, blinding in the stark sunlight. I stared at it in awe and thought I might be seeing an angel of some sort.

I blinked and when I did, the apparition turned and galloped back into the phthalo green dark from whence it came.

"The deer come quite close to the house in the morning," a soft voice behind me noted. I spun around and saw the stranger who had spent the night. They were wearing the blindfold once again, and a few strands of their copper coloured hair had escaped it and softly fluttered in the breeze. One of their hands was elegantly wrapped around their wooden cane and the rose quartz on their ring shimmered in the morning sun like a predator's eye in the shadow of the thickets.

"How on earth could you know it was a deer?!", I burst out before I could contain myself.

"Oh, I have my ways." Another fang-bearing smile. I chose not to further inquire after seeing it. Suddenly, it seemed like a bad idea to leave Sarah alone with the stranger.

"I'm going down to the lake," I said and my voice only trembled a little. "Would you like to accompany me?"

The storyteller smiled.

"Do you know the area well?", I inquired. We were walking down the path through the field, the tall pale green grass swaying in the morning breeze around us. Drowsy bees buzzed through the wildflowers, their wings shimmering golden in the morning light.

"Like the back of my hand," the storyteller replied, their voice gentle. A green woodpecker called somewhere in the treetops. They ran their fingers across the blades of grass. "I used to stay here quite often when I was younger. A family used to live in the house you two have taken for yourself now, hardworking, happy people, who lived a simple life that was nevertheless filled with love and earnest joy. They had geese and goats and a rooster whose call echoed across the valley in the early mornings, and a great cat with yellow eyes that used to sunbathe on the staircase all afternoon. I used to sleep in their barn all summer, where the hay was soft and the crickets chirping at night made you feel as if you were in a waking dream."

"How come they left? I have often asked myself that." I kicked a pebble out of the way.

The storyteller sighed. "Their only son drowned in the lake. They searched everything, but only found him a few weeks after it happened. The sight of his lifeless face, it…changed them. The joy was gone and when the joy had left, the love had soon followed. And with the departure of love, emptiness came knocking on their door like an old friend." They paused. "John and Norah walked into the lake together one moonlit night. After that, Norah's old sickly mother left these woods to live with her brother, and took the yellow-eyed cat with her. She died soon thereafter. The house was left to itself - until you moved in."

"It must be strange for you, to return to the house now that it no longer belongs to the people you knew."

The storyteller chuckled. "It was stranger when the house stood empty. Of course, on my travels, I still needed a place to sleep. But the peculiarity of a house becoming so silent after it had always been so full of laughter is hard to shake off. I suppose it is a lot nicer now that it no longer stands abandoned. The air has changed."

By now we had reached the lakeshore and the water glittered in the summer sun. I thought of the child that had drowned in these peaceful waves. Suddenly I no longer felt like going for a swim.

Something moved in the branches above us and spread its wings. I glanced up and saw a white heron leaving the old willow behind. When I turned back to the storyteller they were frowning.

"What is it?", I asked.

"Was that a heron?", they inquired.

"Yes, a white one," I replied. "It flew across the lake. Looked quite majestic."

The storyteller stopped dead in their tracks. "We should go back."

I tilted my head in confusion. "Why?"

"Trust me." They chewed their lip. "It will rain soon."

When I looked up, the sky that had just been stark blue had turned ash grey.

[airteacher]

If elements were more lineage based and not stuck 1:1 per parent what element would you hc the air kids as having. (Assuming Pema is a non bending daughter of at least one earthbender)

//Personally, I've always imagined Pemzin's kids as having the potential to be Airbenders (bc of Aang being of Air Nomad decent), Waterbenders (bc of Katara being of Water Tribe decent) and Earthbenders (bc of Pema being of Earth Kingdom decent). If one of Pema's parents were from Fire Nation decent, then I'd include that as well.

But I imagine it not extending past grandparents, because the creators specifically say it's not about bloodlines, but rather a spiritual connection, with each culture providing a different spiritual vantage point. So, while I do believe in some genetics having to do with ethnic grouping, I still think grooming is an important factor. By fostering the Air Nomad side of their heritage, they are more likely to develop into Airbenders than any other element.

With this in mind we know of three canon aspects that attribute to being able to bend: ethnic grouping/cultural upbringing (decides which element you're predisposed to developing), spiritual connection (how likely you'll be a bender), and a physical aspect having to do with blood flow and chi channels in/around the brain (an on-and-off switch basically).

Here's a snippet of an interview Bryke did for avatarspirit.net (the main online community for atla/lok content before tumblr arrived) that supports this. This is from April 2007. I've bolded the text I found most relevant.

RM: Okay, next I know I'm going really left brained and you can call me a geek because I am, but in "The Fortuneteller" you have a pair of twins...kids...one is an earthbender and one isn't. So is bending genetic, or is it some sort of spiritual thing? How does it work? BK: Mike and I just got new puppies. They're brothers. They have the same mother and father. Same litter. Mike's dog can just sit in a crate and be happy as a clam. My dog just loses all control...everything. Who knows why these things happen? They're beyond our full understanding. MDD: Yeah, Katara's mom and dad weren't benders. Maybe it's a recessive gene. I've always seen it as more spiritual connections, though. A little bit mysterious... BK: I mean we've definitely talked about it. I think, again, sometimes we might not know...it's more of what we don't want it to be. We didn't want it to be like there is a lineage...a royal family or something...and these people can bend and then there's everyone else as non-bending, people who never will. Some sort of caste system. Mike and I are more attracted to more of the flux type universe. The only constant is change, variation, that sorta thing. I'm sure it's a bunch of factors. ***Interviewers note: About 20 mins after the interview, Bryan came back to me and we spoke a little more about the basis of bending off recorder. He described bending as more of a talent. You have some genetic basis for potential, but you could go your whole life without developing the talent into ability. Some people have more inherent talent than others, while others with minimal inherent talent can still develop it through hard work and practice. He reiterated a connection to the spiritual energies is the underlying basis. How it manifests is based on upbringing and experience. RM: So could Teo's people perhaps grow into the airbenders of the future? BK: I think Teo's people are more refugees. They probably came together because they're not benders and really had no way to defend themselves. Then fell under this nutty guy who has his own skill and aura of authority. I don't think it's an ethnic group of non-benders, rather they were all just escaping the disasters of war. MDD: Yeah, I think if you've gone through puberty and not found any bending abilities, you're probably not going to find them. I think it manifests early. BK: Although that would make a pretty outrageous story. Some 80 year old guy... MDD: "Wow, I never knew!" BK: ...fire starts shooting out... RM: I was just curious if the airbenders could just come back from the general population rather than necessarily having to come back through Aang or anyone else who came from the airbending lineage. MDD: Aang is the last Airbender, so I don't think it's possible for Airbending to spontaneously develop in the general population. RM: It seems like all the Air Nomads were benders. Did they exile everyone who didn't manifest the trait, or did they really have such a high percentage of born benders? BK: We always have liked the idea of who will be a bender and who won't be to be kind of an ambiguous mystery, even to the people in the Avatar world. From early on we thought the Air Nomads would be all benders. Again it's like Mike was saying, it's more of a spiritual connection. But they have...they had...the smallest population. Earth Kingdom has the biggest population but the smallest percentage of benders. So yeah, there were these notions we kicked around that is wasn't going to be regimented or ruled through specific lineages. We liked the idea that each of the cultures have a different spiritual vantage point...coming at it from a different angle. MDD: Then the Air Nomads would have been the most spiritual...the most connected to the spiritual energy of the Earth. BK: But the most detached from society. More monastic.