#been suffering a bit of burn out but i wanted to finish these offerings in time !! 🎃

[writing-good-vibes]

hello, can i do a halloween request, prompt 17 with vincent sinclair? ty :> ♡

happy (one week until) halloween !! 🎃 here we have the first prompt of the season !! i went with the cute prompt of 17. "heat of fireplace on a cold night" because i wasn't sure which you wanted, but honestly i kind of felt like vince deserved something soft 💗

The main fireplace in the Sinclair house was so rarely used that it had accumulated a thick, sticky layer of dust on the hood and over the tasteful faux-logs. As you made your way through the house during your sparodic cleaning sessions, you often avoided the fore, simply because it was just oo much work. But now, with the nights drawing in and that familiar October chill starting to creep through the old house, you decided there was no time like the present.

It took you all day, scrubbing at the wrought iron grate and polishing the brass fixtures until they shone.

The more work you put into it, the more you started to think this could be a nice surprise for Vincent. He'd been down in the workshop all day and wouldn't reappear till dinner, at the earliest. You hadn't had much quality time together lately, with a large group having come through a week or so ago that had given Vincent a lot of work to do.

He deserved a break, you thought.

By the time Vincent resurfaced, you'd already worked your magic.

Dinner was bubbling away on the stove, the fireplace was lit (with only a little bit of help from Bo, who you'd promptly thanked and then told to go and hang in his own basement for the night) and bellowing warmth into the draft living room, and you'd set up the VCR beneath the TV.

Vincent smiles, a soft, surprised and grateful laugh leaving his lips as he steps forward. If the fire wasn't warming you enough, Vincent could certainly do the job.

With bowls of hot food and a tangle of blankets shrouding the both of you, you let the movie play. An old gothic thing, something watched so often the tape was starting to wear out, but still it trundled on.

Not that you could ever forget, but in the glow of the fire, you were reminded just how truly, utterly handsome your Vincent was. The golden light that dripped down his strong jaw and blazed in his eye. How he still tilted his head to let his hair fall over his face, even after all this time. The way you could see his shoulders slacken as his mind cleared and he concentrated solely on the film on the TV screen.

Vincent was an godsend.

"I love you, you know that, don't you?" You voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the hum of the TV.

He turns to look at you, with that same soft, surprised look on his face. He nods.

[ozzgin]

Greetings! How you doing today/tonight?

This is not a request or anything

Hopefully you're doing fine, cuz I'm not, I have a shitty cold rn and I just finished 5 tissue roll papers in just a few hours

Anyway this ain't about me, just wanted to see how you were doing since I've been a bit inactive with tumblr with the past few days

Have a great day/night :3

-🎧anon

Aww, sorry to hear that. We’re definitely entering cold/flu season. Mid-October I’ve gotten ill with some virus, no idea what it was, but I had no other symptoms other than terribly swollen sinuses. Which, in turn, pressed on my tooth nerves, so I had massive tooth pain for days. Never dealt with anything like that before and it sounds downright ridiculous, turns out it’s an actual thing. Start taking immunity supplements and avoid visibly sick people!

I know you said it’s not a request, but I couldn’t help the thought of “How would the Baki characters take care of you?” So I did write some short headcanons after all. For you and anyone else currently bedridden. :)

Baki Characters x Sick! Reader

Featuring Baki and Jack Hanma, Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi and Pickle. And a reader that’s battling a cold!

Baki Hanma

There are two stages of Baki’s involvement. Once you’re not answering his calls he will be at your front door, worried and considering ways to break in. That’s when he hears the muffled coughing and sneezing through the walls and figures it out: You’re sick. He’ll return with a bag of supplies and offer to stay at your place until you feel better. His help consists of quick Google searches, because he’s never had anyone doting on him and consequently has no idea how to care for someone in such situations.

Second and final stage is him getting sick from you. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to see him trying to hold back his cough, at first denying his poor health until you touch his forehead and it’s burning. The bad news is that you’re both bedridden. Baki is beyond embarrassed, attempting to justify himself and explaining it has never happened before. Eventually one of his or your friends will show up and pay the occasional visit to play nurse. At least you’re not suffering alone. You’re not sure if it’s an actual saying, but you’re tempted to believe colds go away faster in good company.

Jack Hanma

You don’t want to interfere with Jack’s routine, so once you wake up with the familiar sore muscles, you decide to quietly recover from home. Jack notices your absence and while he does not want to be nonchalant and potentially impose on your personal troubles, he can’t help the curiosity. In fact, he spends the whole training time wondering why you’ve skipped your usual visits. So when you hear a knock on the door you don’t think twice about opening it. Probably your food delivery. Only when you notice Jack’s massive frame blocking any outside view, you gasp in surprise.

“Oh. You seem to be ill.” Is all he states before turning on his heels and leaving. You stand there baffled and eventually return to your warm bed. Just as you cozy up, there’s another knock and you groan, throwing the blankets off of you. This better be the hot soup you ordered. Except it’s Jack again, holding not only your delivery, but also multiple other bags with groceries peeking out. “Y-you’re back?” You mumble. “Well, can’t do much empty handed. Here’s your order, but I got some extra things to help with your cold”, he states as he invites himself in.

Kaiou Retsu

You know Retsu will be worried about you, so you try your best to mask the symptoms over the phone. “That’s a stuffed nose. Are you sick?” He immediately points out. Uh oh. You fumble with some excuses and he promptly hangs up. Have you upset him? You’re starting to feel bad. He’s never dropped out of a conversation like this before. You try to call back several times until you’re distracted by the sound of your doorbell. You’re not in the mood for visitors. You continue your attempts to reach Retsu as you approach the door and open it. “I suspected as much.” Your head snaps up hearing the familiar voice.

Before you can say anything, you’re casually lifted up and brought to your bed. As if he’s been doing it his entire life, the Kenpo master tucks you in and pulls out an apron from his bag. “I’ll check what ingredients you already have in your pantry and go buy the rest. Before that, I’ll make you a tea. Any preferences?” You open your mouth to speak, but he’s already walking away, describing the best choice of drink for the common cold. Really, the best thing you can do right now is to rest and leave everything else to him.

Katsumi Orochi

Usually, Katsumi will avoid using the spare key you’ve given him. On the other hand, he was supposed to pick you up for your regular date night and you haven’t answered his persistent knocking, so you leave him little choice. He quietly apologizes for the intrusion as he unlocks the door and tiptoes his way in. The lights are off and he’s becoming increasingly anxious, almost sprinting to your bedroom. He stops in his tracks once he sees you buried under the blankets, passed out and sweaty from an obvious cold.

Ah. Well, that makes sense. He smiles to himself and gently pats your forehead to make sure it’s nothing serious, then sneaks out of the room. You wake up hours later, groggy and sore. It suddenly occurs to you that you’ve slept through your date and jolt up, nearly collapsing in the process. You erratically search for your phone and call Katsumi to apologize. Simultaneously you hear his ringtone nearby, so you limp outside, confused. As you reach the kitchen, a pleasant smell invades your nostrils. Katsumi turns to look at you. “You’re awake! I made something to help with your cold. I’ll bring it to your bed, so you can go back and rest. We can’t skip our romantic dinner.” He chuckles after the last statement.

Pickle

Pickle has been ill at least once in his life, so he can quickly guess that your coughing and runny nose is not something that’s supposed to happen on the regular. Although, if he’s honest, he has no idea what he should do. He’d deal with his sickness by just sleeping it out, or downright ignoring it. Seeing you like this, however, fills him with an overwhelming desire to help you. He does love you, after all. Witnessing your suffering isn’t something he does with ease.

He manages to gesture the situation to Baki, who follows him back to your place and proceeds to do the first aid he’d sporadically learned over the years. A rather clumsy attempt, but it’s better than nothing. Once Pickle has observed the steps, he swiftly shoos the young boy away. All he needed was a little bit of demonstration, some brief instruction on the modern ways. Everything else will be done by him. It’s only proper that the actual care is performed by your partner. You’re a little afraid of the potential outcome to this experiment. Especially once you hear the loud rattles coming from the kitchen. Don’t worry, it’s all made with love.

*My partner has insisted that I include Yuujirou Hanma just to say that he’d tenderly piss on you. I compromised on a footnote.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Insomnia

Summary: After tossing and turning for the better part of the night, Roman helps you to find ways to relax.

Pairing: Roman Roy x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Content Warnings: Fluffy Smut 18+!, Everybody Is Needy And Soft In Here, Unprotected P In V, Nipple Play, A Little Bit Of Logan Roy Slander, Roman Being Absolutely Enamored With Reader, L-Bombs, Established Relationship Because I Just Want Roman To Be Happy For Once 🤧

A/N: This fic was brought to you by my current inability to sleep 🫠

(Happy little edit: By the time I finished the fic, I had finally slept a whole night 🥲)

Tagging:

@alalalaaallaaalaaa @crypticsewerslut @angelsanarchy @arch1viste @icarus-star @fadedviolets

Für Elise - Reimagined By Alexander Joseph (I WHOLEHEARTEDLY encourage you to listen to this piece of art!)

Round after repetitive round your slightly burning, half-lidded eyes followed the quietly whirring ceiling fan right above the bed. Everything was perfect, the sheets fresh, the room temperature comfortably cool and the muffled out city sounds in the background provided just enough white noise to drown out your everlasting inner monologue and yet you just couldn't fall asleep.

You've already been cutting out caffeine for a few days now, carbohydrates too and with that practically everything that was remotely fun, hell, you even picked up a guided meditation podcast here and there trying to simply put yourself to sleep by getting bored enough but nothing really did the job. With each and every night passing like this, getting one to two hours of fairly interrupted sleep at best, you dreaded it a little more.

"Goddammit." You huffed under your breath before turning yourself to the side where Roman was comfortably snoozing next to you.

His back was facing your front as you scooted up close to him to gently wrap your arm around his waist, fingertips sneaking themselves underneath the hem of his white t-shirt while you rested your forehead against his shoulder. For a few minutes you just listened to him breathing in a steady pace, his ribcage rising and falling with every peaceful inhale and you couldn't help yourself but to envy him a little.

You couldn't explain to yourself how he did it, dealing with pent-up assholes, the worst of them being his father without a doubt, all day long and then just passing out when he felt like ending the day. Right now you wished for that ability to be one of your own, too, but for now it was to no avail. Pondering over it for longer would only turn you more sour by the minute and that wouldn't exactly help anyone here right now. Instead, you gently sighed into the soft and warm fabric of his shirt, shoving as much of the internalized malice regarding your situation to the side while much rather focusing on your curious fingertips that you led to wander over his defined torso. In gentle, slow strokes, you traced the outlines of his muscles up to his ribcage, caressed his collarbone, that was slightly curved upwards in this position, and then all the way back down again, your fingers getting lost in the softly curled hair of his happy trail down to the waistband of his shorts.

"You're getting me all worked up here.." Roman's sleep-drunk voice whispered to you.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to." You reciprocated, drawing your fingers from his lower abdomen until you felt his broad hand softly pressing yours back onto his skin.

"No, no, it's fine, don't you worry, babe. Still can't sleep, huh?" His tone was laced with a heavy layer of upright worry about you.

"Nope, Morpheus still won't treat me with a dream or two. Just endless buzzing up in the noggin." It left your mouth alongside a tired and painfully exhausted yawn.

"I'm sorry.", Rome yawned right there with you whilst he turned himself on his back, offering you his arm to seek shelter under, "Come here, you don't have to suffer through that alone."

"You don't have to be sorry, it's none of your fault." You shrugged your shoulders a little, quickly moving into his embrace and resting your weary head on his chest.

"But I really think it would be if I didn't try to help you somehow." He stated rather bluntly before placing a soft kiss to your hairline.

"Oh, Rome, you don't need to make this your problem, really-" With a well audible smile in his voice, Roman cut you off.

"But I want to! And I'm going to." He whispered against your forehead as his hand, that hung around your shoulder, started to softly caress your upper arm.

In barely even there strokes with his fingertips, Rome brushed over your skin from shoulder to elbow and back again, leaving waves of goosebumps after goosebumps in his wake.

"Now you're getting me all worked up!" You smiled against his chest, pressing your body impossibly closer to his, the silky soft fabric of your satin slip dress rubbing against his shirt.

"Oh, god forbid, am I right?", Roman laughed out softly, "And what if I do that right here?"

His other hand reached out to lift your chin up to his face before he leaned in to press a longing and anything but chaste kiss to your lips.

With that, he elicited a low moan of yours to get swallowed up by his mouth, his tongue darting out between his lips, gently snaking towards yours, nudging it playfully. Immediately, you felt your blood rushing down between your legs in nearly violent determination, an aching need to feel him even closer with you drowning out everything else.

"Fuck, Roman." You sighed against his lips, trying to steady your breath.

"If you insist.", You felt the grin forming on his face, "Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"If you insist." You chuckled right back whilst reaching down to your hips, taking a hold of the lacey string underneath the slip dress and shimmied out of it.

"Keep the dress on, please? You just look stunning in it." Roman asked in a breathy tone, pulling himself back a little to sit up straight against the headboard.

"Of course…" You whispered with a smile on your lips, rising yourself so far from the mattress until you were able to arch one leg over his waist and straddle his lap.

"Oh, damn.." He groaned a little raspy as the length of his pulsing cock pressed against your thoroughly soaked folds, your slick threatening to just drip down on him.

"That's all you, getting me wet like that." You said in return, wrapping your arms around his neck before rolling your hips against his lap to let him slide right inside of.

The feeling of him filling you right up to the brim, the girth of his cock stretching you out delightfully, had you both moaning out in pleasure. It absolutely didn't matter how many times you had slept with each other in whatever way, the moment of Roman thrusting into you for the first time was something that simply knocked the air from your lungs and eradicated any and every thought from your crowded mind.

"You feel so fucking good around me, you have no idea.", He hummed against your cheek before peppering the corner of your mouth with playful pecks of his lips, "And it just drives me insane when you wear just that slip dress here."

"It's the one you gifted me on our last anniversary, remember?" Your breath heavy as you started rolling your hips at a slow pace.

"How could I forget, babe?" Rome smiled at you, cheeks flushed in a soft tint of red and his olive eyes sparkling with unbridled joy even in the dark.

Seeing him beam at you like this made you forget all about not being able to sleep for the past two weeks, it made you forget all about the negativity that followed your each and every step through the days but what it made you remember clearly was how much you loved him. Every part of him from his expressive eyebrows, to his loud mouth to his colorful and exciting character.

"I love you, Roman." It fell from your lips before they touched his in a nearly bruising kiss.

"And I love you…more than anything." He reciprocated as soon as you broke from the kiss a little, leading his mouth to wander over your jaw, pressing loving kisses and playfully soft bites down your neck and all over your collarbone.

The tip of his nose stroked over the cleavage that the silken slip dress gave room for before his lips wandered down another notch to close around one of your perked up nipples, suckling at it carefully. A rush of pleasure seeped from your chest throughout your whole body as you felt the thin fabric soaking up his saliva, a wet patch forming around your areola before he moved on to the other side. The ceiling fan from above rendered the damp spot cold to your skin, sending soft shivers down your spine whilst you allowed yourself to just not think for once.

With eyes fluttered shut, you let your head roll back, basking in each little sensation he gifted to your body. This right now wasn't about chasing an orgasm just for the sake of getting off, no, this moment of shared intimacy was about feeling each other in the closest way possible and you reveled in every second of it.

"Love you so fucking much.." Roman's breathy tone got muffled by the fabric and you could hear that he was equally far gone by now, carefully joining in on your rhythm with every roll of your hips over his lap as his hands held you by the waist.

You intently listened to his shallow breathing, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet sounds of his lips Kissing and sucking on your nipples in a seemingly relentless vigor as you felt your walls tightening around his cock, the tip of it stroking over that especially sensitive part repeatedly.

"I'm about to…fuck, I…" It cascaded out of your mouth into the bedroom as you weren't even able to for a coherent sentence before it rippled through your body.

Orgasmic bliss set every nerve on fire for a split second, your pussy contracting in reckless waves around him, pulling him further in and eventually throwing him over his own edge. With raggedy breaths and choked back moans, Roman pressed his face into your neck as his fingers clawed at your waist. You felt him filling you up with throbbing pumps of his twitching cock as he pressed himself as far as possible into you with one final thrust.

Neither of you said a word whilst you pulled yourself off of him, the accumulation of bodily fluids leaving a little mess in his lap and between your thighs, and curled your satisfied body up to his again.

"Do you want me to read you something?" Roman asked and to say it caught you by surprise was a broad understatement.

"Huh?" You looked up to him with arched brows.

"I vaguely remember you telling me how much you liked being read to back when we started dating and I'm quite a bit ashamed that I never did that for you by now." He answered with a soft smile on his lips.

"You…you remember that?" It rolled over your tongue in some sort of excited shock.

"Of course I do, babe. So, would you like me to? If you're lucky, I'll find something a little more suitable than a yucky Forbes magazine."

[skylie-spiderlillis]

Unfortunately I will not be able to finish the payneland fic I wanted on time to publish it on my birthday, however I will publish a snippet for now!

It's a fencing fic, because I'm a fencer Edwin truther, and the boys 100% fence as a game between them so my fic is based about that. Edwin tries to suggest fencing to talk about things and resolve the awkwardness that started between them after the love confession. It's not very long after Port Townsend.

I'm going to try to continue working on it to finish it on time but I'm at a bar on the beach that has loud distracting music to celebrate my birthday, I can't make any promises. However I will publish it tomorrow. Here is the snippet for now!

Charles was sitting on the desk, his legs on the chair, staring vacantly out of a window for the past few hours.

Edwin, who was reading a book on the sofa, eventually had enough of this new awkward distance between them and snapped, deciding he was going to do something about it, shake Charles out of it in any way he could.

.......

He tossed Charles his foil- a golden one with a left handed handle. Edwin’s foil was silver, matching Charles’ set. “Pick it up, we are going to fence.” He declared.

“What?” Charles looks up, shaking off from his thoughts and turned to his best friend, blinking surprised.

“I said, pick it up, we are going to fence. Frankly, I've had enough of your distant behaviour recently and I cannot let it pass any second longer. You cannot fool me, Charles Rowland, I know you, and after Port Townsend you have never made the return quite to your senses yet. So we are going to fence, and we are going to talk, in the way we do things. Because clearly something has gone wrong with you recently you refuse to let me in about.”

“Mate, there is nothing wro-” Charles started making himself force out a laugh in defence, but Edwin cut him.

“I have simply confessed to being in love, Charles, I have not been turned into a fool in all that regards you. I have known you for over 30 years, Charles Rowland, and I can tell when things are wrong. Yet you don’t come to me, although you are clearly bothered by me. Sometimes, I have to wonder if you still consider us best friends after all-” his voice break, trailing off.

“What? Mate, of course you are-” Charles rushed to defend against Edwin's words.

“Then talk with me, Charles. Fence with me, like we used to. Because I miss having my best friend around, and I don’t know what to think of you recently. Talk to me, please.” Edwin moves Charles’ foil on the desk closer to him, offering it to him again.

Charles took a few moments of thinking in silence before he responded again. They could fence, he supposes, he did miss them too, but- “Look, Edwin, mate, I don’t want to fight you- You are still pretty banged up from Esther’s house.” Not a lie, they both still had some traces of their iron burns. Esther’s house was still relatively fresh- they tried to bury it but the events of Port Townsend only took place twelve days ago.

Unfortunately, iron burns take an annoying amount of time to heal. Although not as bad now, slight traces of their burns still left.

They have been taking cases slower because of it, working on easy ones to start. Both of them acting more out of concern for the other than actually to themselves.

“Oh, you assume you would be able to get close to me?” Edwin teased arching his brow and Charles bit his lips, cheeks flushing slightly. Bollocks. Okay, his self confidence was hot-

Seeing him announcing it cockily and sure of himself like that ignited a fond and playful spark in Charles- he liked his overconfidence.

“I assure you, even in my lesser state I can still, as I believe they say today, ‘kick your ass’. You, on the other hand, have been shutting off from me for weeks, and I simply will not sit here and allow our friendship to continue suffering any longer. So please, fence with me again. Challenge me, if you will.”

“Edwin-” Charles gruntle sighing pretending to be rolling his eyes in decline, then he quickly picks up his foil going out to a surprise attack, a spark of mischief igniting back in him.

Adrenaline was flooding his ghost veins, in a good way-

He loved this. This was them. It just felt right.

Edit: fic posted! It's the most recent post below the pinned one on my blog!

[withlove-xixi]

I came running to your requests the second I finished reading the chilchuck writing!! You have such an incredible grasp of his character I was so impressed! Can I request a fem reader x marcielle where they both are pining for each other but don’t know if each other are queer and pathetically try and dip their feet in the water only to quickly take them out before even knowing if the waters hot or not?? I know you like doomed Yuri but please give this a happy ending where they end up together!! Marcy suffers enough 🙏🙏

If you don’t do female readers or this request doesn’t interest you feel free to ignore it! Thank you for your service in dungeon meshing fanfics lmao

— THE SUN AND THE MOON: marcille x f!reader

ᥫ cw: burn mention (used metaphorically) ᥫ wc: 3226 ★ OH ANON, SWEET ANON. I AM MORE THAN DELIGHTED TO DELIVER YOU YURI (LESBIANISM IN MY VEINS .. MY CALLING .. MY DUTY)!! anyway, i fear i might've gotten a bit carried away .. but i hope you enjoy it regardless! cross posted on ao3

— IT MUST’VE BEEN DIFFICULT BEING THE SUN.

[♡]: that was the only thought running through marcille’s mind as she watches you gingerly patch up a tear in one of her dresses. she watches fondly as your fingers nimbly thread the needle through deep blue fabric with such care and gentleness, she almost envied it. well, what choice did she have but to envy it? what choice does the moon have but to want the sun’s warmth?

RISING SUN.

That’s what you were. Something bright, something inviting, almost tempting. Marcille felt drawn to you, she always had. There was just always some quality about you that drew her in, a radiance that seemed to guide her steps to draw closer and closer to you. It was nearly instant, the inviting sunshine that pulled at her, caused her to come closer until she extended her arm out towards you and introduced herself. It did not help that you smiled so brightly and sweetly. You grabbed her hand, warmth spreading from your body to hers, shook it firmly. Marcille had to try really hard not to think too much about you after that.

For a while she really wouldn’t tell why, she couldn’t tell what specifically about you kept tempting her. She felt it, nearly every moment of your time together in the dungeon, a small part of her that would always keep you close. Marcille would walk next to you, she would try and make small talk with you, she would offer to help you. The more she let herself bask in your light and warmth, the more she felt drawn to stay, until she was comfortably resting by your side, a sunny friendship that made her heart feel fuzzy.

High noon.

That’s what you were, hot and looming. You were always close with Marcille, something she would never fully figure out the reason for. But you were there, at the corner of her eye, staying by her side at a comfortable distance, watching her tie braids in her hair, putting your bedroom adjacent to hers. The tug she had initially felt when you two first met only grew, flames that only consumed her inside, filling her with sunshiny warmth. It was hot, nearly dangerously so, hot, blazing noon heat. Marcille began to overheat, cheeks would flush when your fingers would brush against hers when you walked together, brain would malfunction when you would worriedly bandage her minor injuries, stomach would twist in knots when you would smile at her. A smile so bright and sweet.

Marcille was half-scared she would explode. Or melt into a puddle.

Heat, dangerously hot heat. With the warmth came hesitation, the fear of being burnt if she stood too close, if she lingered under sunlight too long. The idea felt more like a promise than a threat, a guarantee that getting closer to you would end in failure, leave her brunt bright red, leave her howling in pain into empty space.

She liked you, there was part of her that screamed that obvious fact to her face as much as she wanted to suppress and deny the idea, let it die down to a passing thought. In her heart Marcille knew she still longed for the sun, she still craved for your hot touch, your bright smile, your warm company. She willed it in such a way, it was no longer simple friendship. It was something deeper, heavier. It was something that went past her niceties, that stemmed from the pits of her heart.

It was an aching sort of craving, a hunger that left her immobilized. It was the temptation of a forbidden fruit, of a light that would burn.

She saw the way you were with other people. People like the men in your party. Marcille had nothing against them, but still there was a small part of her that boiled green at the way you were around them because it was the same way you were with her but different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was a difference. Something small she could feel on the tips of her senses.

Marcille saw the way you were. She saw the way you giggled at Laios’ antics as he clumsily poked at some strange plant in the dungeon. She saw the way you praised Chilchuck’s handiwork, a compliment that proved only how observant you could be. She saw the way you teased Shuro for his awkwardness in the party during meal times. It might’ve begun to piss her off had it not been you. Marcille, as jealous as she might get around the boys, could never truly bring herself to feel so terribly when it's something about you. How could she when your laugh was like the warm summer breeze, your care like fireplace warmth, your smile like starshine.

Gods! Marcille wanted to tear her hair out. It was such a pain to be hungry, to so desperately crave for light, for warmth. It was a pain to be hungry for something you know you can never have, you could never even begin to imagine the taste of.

She kept her distance, an orbit just at arms reach. The same politeness and gentleness as the beginning, with the new caution for heat. She allowed herself to bask only in the reflection of your light.

Setting sun.

That’s what you were as you gingerly patch up a tear in one of Marcille’s dresses. Strangely it felt so domestic despite the other party members that crowded around your small campsite, despite the terribly difficult fight everyone was still recovering from, despite her keeping her usual far away distance. Her gaze lingered on you, studying the way your fingered moved with such grace and tenderness, she might’ve gotten jealous of the way you treated the needle had she not remembered you had personally offered to come and patch it up for her (a fix she definitely could’ve done — or normally would’ve gotten Chilchuck to fix for her — but could she really pass up the opportunity?).

Marcille watched quietly and carefully, musing at the way you chatted with Namari as you worked, the small smile that evolved into a snort and a chuckle at something Namari said that Marcille didn’t quite care enough to hear. She smiled fondly at your direction, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Chilchuck nudges her as he moves to sit by her side near the campfire. She paid him little attention, not bothering to glance his way as she spoke. “What do you want?” Something a bit more curt than usual, but Chilchuck doesn’t care enough to be bothered.

“It’d be easier to just talk to her, you know,” he said plainly as he opened up his waterskin to take a sip.

Marcille snorts, finally turning to him with her brows furrowed in skepticism. “Right, because you’re so suddenly an expert at forming bonds?” She jests, causing the muscle under Chil’s eye to twitch slightly.

He sighs in satisfaction once he’s finished taking his drink. He points an accusatory finger at Marcille, it catches her off guard. “I’m just saying you should talk to her at least. I’m sick of hearing you sigh and giggle when you're just… staring… at her— it’s creepy!” Chilchuck says in a scolding manner.

Marcille’s cheeks turn red at the comment. “Wh—” She begins but your soft laugh cuts through the air and her ears pick up on the sound immediately.

No doubt Chilchuck has too, but he chooses to sigh at the elven girl. “All I’m saying is communication is important.” He stands and dusts off the back of his pants. “So get it together, Marcille. Do something about… this,” He gestures a hand vaguely at Marcille, “because I’m really, really getting sick of this nonsense.”

As he walks away, Marcille watches and grumbles something about how he should mind his own business, but she feels a presence appear next to her. She senses warmth.

Rising moon.

That’s what she was. Something alluring, something enigmatic, nearly mysterious. You had never met an elf before, not saying it was a bad thing but it definitely helped shine an interest on Marcille. Of course, it didn’t help that she was pretty. You were nervous, of course you were. You were fresh meat in a new environment, your next few days would be spent underground, enclosed by damp stone walls and all sorts of beasts. She had stepped closer to you, extended a friendly hand for you to shake. She had told you her name, a sweet sounding lullaby that gracefully left her lips.

You smiled warmly at her, feeling instantly at ease with her kindness, her softness. There was something that drew you to her, a force that tugged at you to come a bit closer to take a better look at her. She was soft, gentle. It was like the breath of autumn wind, something cool, something calming. You couldn’t quite place it, but you could tell something about her tempted you, lulled you into a drowsy state. So you smiled warmly at her, shook her hand and told her your name in return, a small hope kindling inside you that this acquaintanceship would lead to something more.

Midnight.

That’s what she was, dim and looming. You quickly grew close with Marcille, after all, she was the first friend you made among the Touden party, what reason did you have not to be close to her? Besides, she was admirable. In your eyes, she shone brightly, a soft light amidst the void of night. Marcille was a reliable member of the party, always looking for things to help out with (though sometimes she would complain first despite doing it regardless), which was admirable. She was smart too, well-versed in all sorts of spells and knowledgeable in different academic topics, which was admirable too. She also was very careful in her own way, taking time to make sure she was neat and tidy, putting the effort into adorning her silken blond locks with braids and bows, ridding her beautiful features of any spec or dirt, which was admirable… in a way… Well, in the way you were able to just admire her grace, her softness. Truly she had this air of softness to her, like she was constantly followed by a halo of light, a soft glow that was calming in its own way.

Marcille was truly admirable like, that you supposed.

But still, it felt like all you could do was admire her. Despite the closeness that developed between you two, there was always this invisible force that kept you apart, a tension that seemed to hinder you from stepping forward. That, or it was distance. She felt far away to you, something you could only be stuck admiring, like painting in a museum or light on the horizon. The allure of her would always draw you near, you'd sit next to her during meal times or secretly place your bedroll closer to hers, you'd walk side by side and chat when exploring, you'd help her brush the back of her hair, but there was this feeling from the pits of your guts, a self-instilled omen of misfortune for you if you continued to allow yourself to be drawn to her.

Well, after all, you saw how she was with Falin. You had nothing against Falin, you could never even be truly mad at either of them, but whenever they were together you felt… sad. It was quite acidic as envy, but it was cold, and dark, and quiet. Of course you knew the pair had been friends since they were young, years far before your addition to the Touden party, a story Marcille always smiled about when she'd tell you; her years at the magic academy were some of her favorite stories to tell you, you're favorites only because Marcille was the one telling them. Suppose it was some form of jealousy, but really it felt more akinned to despair.

Falin and Marcille were close, far closer than you could even imagine you and Marcille could become. When Marcille wasn't with you, she was undoubtedly with Falin — or rather, when Marcille wasn't with Falin, she was with you. It felt that way at least.

But, regardless, you were no evil witch, no lunatic magician. You wouldn't even dare explicitly drive a stake between the friends, as much as you desperately wanted to be in Falin's shoes. All you did was what you had already been doing, keeping yourself at arms reach, keeping a safe distance from you and her softness, her light, her mystery. You watched from afar, as she'd laugh alongside Falin, as she'd grab her hand, as she'd leave you in searing cold.

Setting moon.

That’s what she was as you sense her gaze linger on you as you patch up one of her dresses, an act you did with such care and love, you were practically kissing better the rips in the deep blue fabric. You feel it, practically burning gently on your skin like firefly kisses, how her emerald eyes stay fixed on you, preying on how your fingers move, studying how you brush hair out of your face. You catch her gaze from the corner of your eye, the hazy look on her porcelain skin, the way the firelight illuminated her features. You try your best not to think of it too much, knowing you’d turn bright red at just the thought of her, instead focusing your attention at carefully sewing her dress, focusing on threading the needle to create perfect invisible stitches to make it look brand new, focusing on how Marcille would smile when you handed her the finished product, focusing on the thought of how she’d go on to wear the dress with your needlework on it, a secret love letter etched into the blue fabric—

“You ‘kay?” A deeper female voice calls from beside you, fortunately and quickly breaking you free from your thoughts.

“Wh- Hm?” You hum, still trying to scramble out of the lingering remnant thoughts of Marcille.

“Yer.. turnin’ red.” Namari notes as she bends a bit closer, looking at the pink dust on your cheeks.

“It’s nothing..” You softly say, instinctively sneaking a glance at Marcille before you turn back to your work.

Narami is unimpressed. She catches the shift of your eyes towards the party’s battle mage and she sighs, taking a seat next to you. “Ya thinkin’ ‘bout her again?”

Instantly a small smile breaks on your face at the mention of Marcille, you chuckle, snorting a bit before you turn to meet Namari’s face. “Am I really that obvious?” You ask but there’s no sense of embarrassment or fear, Marcille did always make you feel at ease.

She mirrors your chuckle. “‘Course.” She says plainly. “Though, I doubt anyone else noticed.” She looks up. “Chil might’ve though.”

You follow her gaze to see the half-foot next to Marcille, she seems annoyed and a bit flustered too. You let out a small laugh and resume your work on the dress. “Of course, Chilchuck’s noticed. What doesn’t he?”

Namari snorts. “Bet he was the first to notice… whatever the both of ya got goin’ on with each other.”

Your brows furrow and your hands freeze. “What’s that meant to mean?”

Namari blinks at you, almost shocked at your confusion. “Like how Marcille and ya are… Ya know…” She makes a gesture, her fingers interlocking with each other. “Ya know?”

“What?” You ask, voice a pitch higher, the initial blush on your face quickly returning. “Wh-what is that even meant to mean, Mari?”

The dwarf shrugs. “I mean- well, if ya don’t know then there’s maybe nothin’— I don’t know!” She says defensively. “I’ve just heard Chil complain ‘bout ya two, is all.”

“Complain about what?”

“Says he’s tired’a seein’ ya two keep google’ at each other an—”

You sit up straight, causing her to pause abruptly. You look at her incredulously, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, brows furrowed. “Two of us?” You ask in a loud whisper. “Two of us?”

Marcille feels your warmth next to her, she feels her world begin to shine in radiant light. She turns to you, a little awestruck as she usually is when she looks at you, especially when you smile the way you’re smiling at her right now.

“Finished your dress,” you say sweetly, softly, like the sweet kiss of morning sunlight through the curtain.

She smiles at you like moonbeams across the ocean. “Thank you,” she replies. Your fingers touch when you pass the clothing to her, a featherlight brush against her like fate was teasing you with a small taste of what you craved.

You sit next to each other in silence, the same comfortable silence weighed on by that thick tension. Marcille smooths over the area where you stitched, fingers gingerly tracing over the invisible lines where your thread passed through her dress. You swallow thickly as you watch her, eyes following each gentle stroke of your fingers. You envy the fabric.

“Marcille,” your voice causes her to look up at you, your face catches the firelight like the honeyed rays of the sun.

“Hm?” She hums in response, head tilting to the side in curiosity. “What is it?”

You lean towards her, brows twitching and you try and muster your courage. “Do you… Do you… like me?” you ask timidly.

Oh, Marcille feels like she would die right now.

Her face instantly flushes red and she jolts upright. “What?” She nearly yells. 

You blink, trying terribly hard not to let your heart feel heavy. “Have I… gotten the wrong impression?”

“N-no! That— It’s—” She sighs. Suppose there isn’t really a way to talk out of it now. She opens her mouth to speak but you beat her to it.

“N-Namari told me to ask. She says it’s been pretty obvious.” You explain timidly, your gaze drifting away from her as wring your hands together. “She said… I was pretty obvious about it too…”

“About…?”

“I…” You take a deep breath, “I like you, Marcy.”

And it was like the world had suddenly shattered. That invisible force that held you two apart finally vanished with the air, leaving you two to allow each other to be pulled into one another like magnets.

Marcille’s eyes shine brightly, hopefully even. She leans closer, one hand gripping tightly against her dress, the same one you had so carefully taken the time to fix for her, the same one she had envied. The other hand lingers in the air, fingers twitching as she hesitates one final time, the final remnants of the tension between you two still trying desperately to cling on.

“Th… I— I like you too…”

You smile, the same smile when you first met, so brightly and sweetly. Relief washes over you, like you had just suddenly been doused in ice cold water. She reaches out to you with her free hand, very slowly making its way to cup your cheek.

“I think… I’ve liked you for a long time now,” Marcille says, punctuates it by saying your name so sweetly, like it was devised for her and only her to speak.

Her thumb smooths over your cheek, caressing your face in such a tender manner. You lean into the touch, moving your own hand to go over hers. You two stare at each other for a bit, tunnel visioning only into each other, allowing everything else around you to blur into distant colors.

You lean forwards, closer to her, and you hear a small gasp leave her lips when she realizes what would happen next. You smile fondly at the noise.

Then the sun and the moon finally meet in total eclipse.

[4pfsukuna]

jealous!sukuna story here👇🏾

kings-get-jealous-to

Akward

The last thing Nanami kento expected to see at Gojo’s party (that he basically tricked him into going to) was his ex girl from 4 years ago in a black mini silk dress that if you just bent over a tad bit more—

“You alright man?” Gojo ask slapping his blonde hair friends back snapping him back to the reality where his cup of alcohol had been crushed completely in his hand.

He was sure of Two things in this moment.

His hand was wet and 2? He wasnt letting you get away again.

———

Incubus curse

After the mission Gojo sent you and Namami on to get rid of some incubus curse (which he didnt mention)  Nanami is shocked when you dont show up to the school the next day and decides to pay you a visit.

“I want you to bend me over every surface including my balcony until neither of us have any energy left… and then go for one more round”

Part two

What if Nanami is the one who suffers the effects of the incubus curse instead of you?

He felt fine and whatever silly little pink dust the cursed spirit sprayed mustve been just that, that’s until he catches a glimpse of you pinning one of the students to the ground and damn would he work endless amounts of overtime to be under you like that— what was he saying?! Shaking his head he almost completely looses it when he watches the way your ass jiggles in your shorts and wonders how back shots would be.

Its not long before hes back in his office gripping his length in his fist and bottom lip between his teeth to quiet his moans.

“Nanami you shouldve said something”

“Like what? How i want to have you moaning and beging to cum for a fifth time with tears in your eyes? Or that i want to watch your eyes get  wide as you swallow my dick taking it to the back of your throat like the good girl i know you are? Or that i want to fill you up with every drop of my seed to put my claim on you and my self control is dwindling because i can smell your arousal and i just want to burry my face in it” he says with pure raw desire as his eyes burn into mine.

——

Professor reward & punishment.

You suck at college math and luckily your neighbor who happens to be a proffessor offers to tutor you after you helped him out a few nights ago.

“Since you can’t seem to pay attention, for every answer you get right ill put in another finger and for every wrong answer you put clothes on reducing the friction.” He holds my jaw making sure im listening.

“And extra credit” i tease before he begins rolling his sleeves up the bulge of his muscles ans loosening his tie yanking aggresively.

A dark smirk reaches his lips that ive never seen before and ive never wanted to be more accurate in… whatever subject we were studying for again.

————

Jealous!Sukuna

You and sukuna had gone back and forth so much its almost like you forgot yuji was his vessel, almost like you forgot he was the king of curses.

But none of that mattered now you (23) and yuji also of age had comitted to getting drunk and letting loose for once.

Sukuna pays it no mind as you aimlessly flirt with some guy at the bar but your eyes are on him. Not the guy, not yuji but Sukuna who had taken over since yuji was to drunk to fight back.

He could easily burn the world to the ground and nothing could stop him except for the look in your eyes when your tounge trails up his abs to his chest tracing his tattoo that the only fire burning hes worried about is the one in your eyes.

“Id pleasure you in ways no woman in your 1000 years of existance could even think about” i smirk before flipping us over so im on top us still connected by our hips moving my hand from his wrist to his neck making him purr.

——

Dad!Sukuna

More of a drabble aka the 3 times his kids call him daddy and the one time you do.

“Get in the cage!” 

“Sukuna stop telling them that! Theres no cage”

“He put fucking smiley faces in my book of incantations” he growls showing me the smiley faces with red eyes, fangs and a crooked smile.

“Oooh he drew you is that why youre mad” i tease watching him seathe as the sound of footsteps running upstairs can be heard smoke nearly comes out of his ears and foam from his mouth.

“As shitty as the smiley face may be he drew it because of you, now stop being such a sourpuss! if you be nice ill even call you daddy and let you give me another little you” i peck his lips listening to the growl of disappointment from pulling away too fast.

“I don’t think i told them how much i love them today” He mumbles pulling me into his lap.

[fiddleabout]

“Finally,” Ava sighs out.  It’s barely anything, but it has walls and a roof and, crucially, a firepit and a stack of bearskin blankets.  The door closes on the howling northern wind and Ava watches as the druskelle, ice crystallized in her dark hair and along her darker eyelashes, immediately sets to sorting the stacked firewood by dampness and finding a tinderbox and flint for the fire.

“You just never stop, do you,” Ava says as she sets to peeling off her ratty kefta.  Running away from Os Alta and the Darkling had seemed like a good idea at the time, keeping the sunlight that had found its way out of her away from him an imperative to protect Diego and the rest of Ravka, but in avoiding anyone Ravkan she’d ventured too close to the permafrost and stumbled into a druskelle camp.  And then the storm hit, leaving her to die in a cage in a sinking ship full of druskelle riding high on the fact that they captured Ravka’s only hope for destroying the shadow sea that kept them economically crippled.  Her kefta is a heavy weight that nearly drowned her in the ocean when the ship sank, and is just as liable to kill her now with how waterlogged and cold it is.

The druskelle doesn’t say anything, just like she hadn’t said anything since sulkily agreeing to let Ava’s sunlight and the barest edges of warmth it offered keep them from freezing while they swam their way to shore with her navigation.  

The kindling catches, and the drier pieces of wood burn quick.  Ava finishes stripping away her clothes, the faintest edges of heat from the infant fire licking at the clammy skin of her back, and she’s halfway to wrapping one of the musty bearskins around herself when a strangled noise sounds from behind her.

“What are you--”

“What, they don’t teach you basic winter survival in grisha murder school?” Ava says in perfect Fjerdan as she turns, waiting an extra half second to tug the bearskin up enough to cover her sternum and collarbones just to see the reaction she gets: a dark flush, highlighting freckles that had been almost invisible to date; an abrupt realignment of her gaze towards the patched roof of the shack; hands locked behind her back, as if she’s not actively shaking with the cold of her waterlogged and frozen clothes.  “You should, too, unless you want to suffer the embarrassment of freezing to death in an empty shack after surviving a shipwreck.”

“It’s not proper.”  Her eyes stay locked on the ceiling, her shoulders stiff under her sodden clothes.  Ava sighs and steps closer to the fire, close enough that the bearskin around her brushes along the sleeve of her uniform and the saintsforsaken wolfhead on the shoulder identifying her as an elite Fjerdan grisha-hunter.  The druskelle bristles; it’s undermined by the way she shudders and nearly trips jerking away from Ava.

“And dying is?”  Ava settles down with a sigh next to the fire, wiggling one hand out of the bearskin and holding it towards the fire.  The druskelle redirects her focus from the ceiling to the meager pile of firewood, feeding a larger log onto the growing fire.  It smokes aggressively, the heavy wet of the coastal winter leaving the wood damp and sizzling.  “And after I so generously saved your life.  Seems dishonorable to let yourself die now.”

“You--” she cuts off, lips pressing together tightly.  Or, at least, they try to; her teeth are almost chattering with the cold.  “You can barely swim.  You hardly did anything but a little bit of cursed light.”

“And you would’ve frozen without it,” Ava says smugly.

[watercolor-hearts]

Hi, are you still doing the ficlets because ao3 is down?

Would love anything lestappen. Hurt comfort or fluff

Hi dear,

Yeah, I'm still doing it because I need more time to write a story than I thought so the plan has become one story a day (if everything goes well). And now I'm here with yours. A little bit of ✨ p a i n ✨ for the Lestappies. *Cough* Ferrari *cough*. I hope you enjoy the story! 😊

Max/Charles • 1396 words • angst • crying • hugs • emotional hurt/comfort • cuddling • mentions of therapy • important conversation

-

“What are you thinking about, love?” Max asked, opening a can of Red Bull, when he saw Charles sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen, fully zoned out. Charles took a long, deep breath, making Max furrow his brows with concern.

“I'm just... Tired,” came the short reply instead of something longer and more detailed Max was preparing for. He left his Red Bull on the kitchen island and went to the other side of it and put his hands on Charles' shoulders.

“Maybe a massage can help,” Max offered, starting to work on Charles' muscles but his boyfriend shook his head and leaned further to put his elbows on the island and bury his face into his hands.

“It's n—I'm not physically tired,” he mumbled.

“Oh.”

“It's just... I don't even know.”

“You can of course talk to me about it, Charlie,” Max said while caressing his boyfriend's back. “I do not want you to hold back things because you think I do not care about them. I care about y—.”

“I'm tired of Ferrari,” Carles said, not letting Max finish his sentence. “I'm tired of being Il Predestinato and I'm tired of always fucking up and I'm tired of not having one single race where everything works and we win and I'm tired of always doing my best but never being good enough and I'm also tired of always just saying that the next year will be ours. No, it won't be. It hasn't been ours in the past God knows how many years either for fucks sake!” Carles raged, slapping the surface of the kitchen island with such a great force the sound made Max twitch. “Fucking shit,” Charles muttered under his breath, feeling his palm burn and tears filling his eyes.

“Hey, Charlie,” Max said, trying to get Charles' attention, “Baby, come here,” he guided Charles into a hug when he heard and saw that he was about to cry.

“Being titled as the Predestined was such an honor because everyone knows that I live and breathe Ferrari but... But it just doesn't work for us together,” Charles said between sobs, burying his face into Max's chest as his boyfriend was holding him close, caressing his back and kissing his hair. “Ferrari is my everything but I'm tired, I'm so fucking tired I can't do this anymore, I can't, Max. I'm tired of pretending that I can and want to continue this shitshow.”

“You can... You can stop pretending now,” Max murmured and Charles's body stiffened before the first loud sob appeared, making his body tremble. “It is of course good to let it out and it is okay to cry so you can cry. I will hold you and then we can talk about this.”

Max was familiar with Charles's struggles with Ferrari and its incompetence and he was surprised Charles was able to hold it together for years and not break down sooner. Max was impressed and worried at the same time because Ferrari wasn't a healthy environment anymore and Charles needed to go if he didn't want to suffer anymore. And now it wasn't just a joke anymore. It was serious.

“We can find another seat for you,” Max said when Charles's sobbing died down after a few minutes.

“What another seat, Max?” Charles asked in disbelief, wet sniffles showing that the worst part was over and he was about to calm down completely. “Lewis has just signed for another few years, and I—I don't want to be a second driver next to you. I want to race and—and I want to win and both of us in the same team is not a good idea.” Max nodded, thinking about what to say because Charles was right but Max still wanted to save him before Ferrari completely destroys him.

“We of course have to look at your options,” Max said, wiping Charles' tears off and then holding his face in his hand, “You are an amazing driver, talented, funny, and you have a lot of fans which is good for marketing and you are of course world champion material, Charles. Ferrari does not appreciate you and it is now time to take a step and leave them to their bullshit. I do not want them to destroy your mental health. I'm worried about you.”

“I don't—I don't know what options I have.”

“We should rest a bit and then sort your thoughts through to see how you feel when you are not distressed. Maybe a call with your therapist could also help.”

Charles nodded. “I need an appointment.”

“It is okay, love,” Max said, kissing Charles' forehead, “Make one, and then we can cuddle on the couch and you can sleep.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Charles nodded, taking a deep breath before fishing his phone out of his pocket.

While Charles was on the phone, Max filled a glass of water for Charles and then drank the rest of his Red Bull.

“I got one for tomorrow. Video call.”

“Good,” Max smiled, handing the glass to Charles, “Now drink this because you need to hydrate.”

“Says the one that drinks more Red Bull than water.”

“That is not true!” Max protested, “Brad would kill me if I drank more Red Bull than water.”

“I'm joking, Chèri,” Charles smiled, tears making his eyes shine, and gave a quick kiss to Max before drinking the water and placing the glass on the counter.

“I know, love. Now let's go to the couch,” Max said, his hand sliding onto Charles's waist, guiding him to the living room.

When Max lay down on the couch, he pulled Charles on top of him. It took them a few seconds to find the most comfortable position but after that, it was just right; a pillow under Max's neck to support it, Charles lying on the top of him, his head on Max's chest, right over his softly thumping heart.

“Ferrari is my everything,” Charles whispered, “my heart, my soul.”

“I know, love,” Max said, softly, while massaging Charles's scalp to comfort him.

“I don't want to betray them. They gave me this opportunity, they believed in me enough to give me an eight-year contract, Max. This... This is not something you just throw away.”

“Charlie, I know how important Ferrari is for you but you're not the first driver that gets his carrier destroyed by them. I know Ferrari is one of the most important teams in Formula 1 and I of course know it has a history but it is also important to think about you, as an individual, because your mental health is important. If you are depressed you cannot perform as good as you could if you were mentally healthy. Is it worth being a Ferrari driver if your team lets you down almost every time and always just promises that the next year will be better and you feel like you cannot do this anymore?”

They both knew the answer but none of them said it.

“I want to bring Ferrari back to the top where they belong,” Charles started to draw shapes on Max's upper arm, “I can't just say ‘thanks I'm out I can't do this anymore’. They believe in me.”

“But they do not see themselves, Charles. They're a meme on the internet. This team has serious problems you can't solve, love. These problems are not because of you but they affect you. And now you are here, needing serious therapy. You have to think about yourself, Charles. You cannot always put the team before yourself. You have to be selfish for once.”

Charles shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping the tears won't find a way for themselves this way. He was wrong because in the next moment, a single teardrop was sliding down on his cheek, landing on Max's white T-shirt, and then it was followed by more. Max didn't say anything. He has already said more than enough, it was up to Charles to decide what he'll do. Max was going to be there for him, holding him no matter what.

Charles was lying on Max's chest, listening to the calm beats under his ear, letting the tears fall until there wasn't any left. There was only one thought in his mind:

I'll give my blood, sweat, and tears for this.

[oraclekleo]

[Interactive Stories] Painting - Part 01

Lee Soo Hyuk Story

Painting

(Lee Soo Hyuk Story)

Part 01

Lee Soo Hyuk was standing in front of a painting in a gallery. Initially, this was only one of many similar events he was getting invitations to every week. He got himself smartly dressed and arrived at vernissage, struck poses for photographers and spent an hour or two looking at art pieces he would never ever put on display in his own home.

This evening was exactly the same until he spotted this one painting. It caught his attention immediately and he couldn’t look away from it. He was fully immersed in the scene it depicted, observing each tiny detail, discovering something new every minute. The painting looked nearly as realistic as a photograph, only certain aspects were clearly done by the hand of the artist. It depicted a young woman sitting on some sofa, her naked back exposed to the artist, her face turned so she was looking right at the audience. Her right arm was loosely placed on the sofa, exposing the wrist. Hyuk probably wouldn’t notice such a woman if he met her on a street but in this picture… It was a powerful and heartstopping image.

The woman was barely more than skin and bones, her back suffered severe burns a long time ago, her wrist carried marks of razor cuts. Two fingers on her hand seemed weirdly crooked as if they were broken and the bones healed in a wrong way. There were cigarette burn marks on her arms and legs. But the most disturbing was a scar on her neck. It looked as if someone slit her throat with a knife but the wound pulled together and only left a nasty scar there instead of killing her. The woman had the face of a broken angel. Her eyes were baby blue but there was so much pain and sadness in them. Hyuk felt as if his own heart started to bleed for this poor person who clearly suffered way too much.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to detach from the image but it remained in his mind. He opened eyes again only to see the eyes of the woman on the painting. Her lips remained pressed but Hyuk could hear her call for help in his mind. He gulped with difficulties and stepped a bit closer to the painting to read the description. It said that it’s the last work of a now deceased author. He died before finishing it, the painting wasn’t even given a name. The model was an unknown woman. Hyuk felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. For some reason he wanted to know her name or at least have a clue who she might be. Is she still alive? Is she feeling better now? Does she have the kind of care she needs? Author died, the painting had no name, the woman was unknown. Hyuk had no leads to follow at the moment.

“It’s an impressive piece, isn’t it?”

Hyuk turned to the woman standing next to him. She was the owner of this gallery. She surely noticed his interest and spotted an opportunity to do some business here.

“It emits a lot of sorrow and pain.” Hyuk said and had to turn back to the painting as if the model was demanding his attention.

“She must have been beautiful before all that happened.” The gallery owner mentioned, clearly referring to all those scars.

“I think she is beautiful. She endured such torment…” Hyuk stopped and had to blink quickly. He was never an overly emotional person but this painting was just too much for his self composure.

“You’re not the only one who thinks so. I have received offers from two potential buyers already.”

Hyuk blinked slowly. She was clearly bluffing… but what if it’s true? What if some creep buys this painting to hang it in their living room and let all their guests ogle the pain and suffering of a woman in the picture?

Check out Lee Soo Hyuk tarot readings:

Lee Soo Hyuk Kinky* Reading

Lee Soo Hyuk Relationship Role

Lee Soo Hyuk Ideal Partner

Lee Soo Hyuk - Love is a Battlefield

Lee Soo Hyuk - Shadow of the Moon

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[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Okay, so, trying to get into this less refined thing.

As I said before, I actually have an outline for how the Butterfly Effect AU is supposed to go past the point I couldn't keep writing. If y'all don't mind spoilers, I'd be interested in your thoughts.

(But I'm putting it behind a cut for those who don't want spoilers.)

By the time his parents and brother and cousin get close enough to get Huaisang's attention, both Papa Nie and Mingjue are suffering pretty horrible nosebleeds, maybe even bleeding from the eyes too, and Linsong and Zonghui are not doing much better.

Understandably, since this is the day Mingjue died in the old timeline, the blood only makes Huaisang panic more, which makes the shockwaves worse.

Mingjue has no idea how to reassure him, just holding on to him in the hopes that will help somehow.

Suddenly he feels the cold shock of ghostly hands reaching into his body, something that had never happened before since Huaisang had always been partially solid.

While he's still stunned, he can feel something like layers and layers of grime being burned off his core as Huaisang clutches it. As the shockwaves die down, he finds himself feeling... better. A lot better. Even though he was nowhere near the qi deviation he'd experienced in the old timeline, the resentment was still starting to accumulate, and now it's just gone.

Huaisang seems to be just as surprised that whatever he did worked, at least as a temporary fix.

He starts to reach for their dad to do the same to him, but then he... flickers a little bit, like a struggling candle flame.

Oh. Shit. Papa Nie immediately realizes that they are now very short on time and orders everyone else to go get Huaisang's mama, the other siblings/extended family members, and every healer and strong cultivator they have, because they can't hold out hope that Huaisang will hang on long enough for Lan Qiren and Wen Ruohan to arrive. They have to execute the saber preservation plan now and pray it doesn't destroy him for good.

It takes the entire rest of the day and almost all the way through the night to finish the ritual, and by the time it's done, Huaisang is more like a smoke wisp than a glow. Pretty much all of his family is in tears, but he's... smiling.

It worked. Generations of Nies will be able to use the pear tree as a place to cleanse their sabers when they start getting too demanding, and the pears to cleanse themselves.

His brother's alive. His parents are alive. His cousins are alive. He has a sister now. The war never started. He has no more regrets.

Realizing that they really are going to lose him now, Mingjue makes him promise he'll come back somehow, so that they can eventually reincarnate as brothers again.

And then he's gone.

Three months later, Mingjue turns thirty and takes on the sect leader role, his father being the first Nie leader ever to be able to peacefully retire.

Six years after that, a circus caravan is passing through, and is invited to perform for the locals in the courtyard of the Unclean Realms. Nie Xunyao is the first to notice something strange, and immediately goes to get Mingjue.

There's a small boy among the performers, caring for the trained bird flock with surprising ease. He's happy and healthy and greets Nie-zongzhu with a huge grin and an offer to hold one of the colorful parrotlets.

He has bright green eyes and a very familiar face.

[renadactyl]

Febuwhump Plan List

These are all my carefully laid-out plans to torment some of my favorite characters. I’ll be dipping my toes into the angst pools in the fandoms of The Arcana, Bungou Stray Dogs, Moriarty the Patriot, Jujutsu Kaisen, BBC’s Sherlock, Spy x Family, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Death Note, and The X Files.

Please note though that I haven’t finished playing Portia’s route or started Lucio’s route and I haven’t unlocked all the paid scenes yet in The Arcana. I also haven’t unlocked Julian’s reverse ending, Nadia’s reverse ending, and Muriel’s reverse ending. And I’m not up-to-date with the manga for Spy x Family. I also never have read the manga for Death Note. And I haven’t read the manga for Neon Genesis Evangelion and I haven’t seen the show in a while. And it has been a while since I last touched things Bungou Stray Dogs-related too but I’m still up-to-date.

My list includes:

Day one: one-sided!Muriel x Apprentice and Muriel x Asra: “Helpless” - where you try to free Muriel from his chains, but he can’t let you because of Asra’s safety being compromised (set pre-plague) {FINISHED WRITING}

Day two: Julian-centric (with a bit of mentioned Asra x Julian and Julian x Apprentice): “Solitary Confinement” - where Julian loses his mind trying to find a cure (set during the time he was locked in his room by Lucio to find a cure for the plague) {FINISHED WRITING}

Day three: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto: “Bite Down On This” - where Suguru’s arm isn’t quite all the way dismembered and desperate times call for desperate measures (set at ending of Jujutsu Kaisen: 0) {CURRENTLY WRITING}

Day four: Kaworu x Shinji: “Obedience” - where Kaworu and Shinji are forced into the cycle of Shinji being guilty for Kaworu’s death every time all because of Kaworu being obedient to his life’s mission (set in another of cycle of similar events)

Day five: Julian x Apprentice: “Rope Burns” - where you catch Julian being careless with his health again (follows his upright ending)

Day six: Mycroft x Lestrade: “You Lied To Me” - where Mycroft doesn’t want to tell Lestrade about his work, but Lestrade finds out soon enough (set before John comes to 221B)

Day seven: Poe x Ranpo: “Suffering In Silence” - where Poe retreats from the outside world and feels inferior, forcing Ranpo into the position of learning how to listen to someone’s problem and comforting them instead of offering brilliant advice (set post-Guild Arc)

Day eight: Sigma x Atsushi: “Why Won’t It Stop?” - where Sigma wants peace and Atsushi will do his damnedest best to deliver (set post-Vampire Infection Outbreak arc)

Day nine: Fred x Louis: “Bees” - where Fred accidentally leaves the doors to the greenhouse open and has a run-in with a bee. Louis, ever the care-taker, takes care of the sting

Day ten: Atsushi x Akutagawa: “Killing In Self Defense” - where Atsushi has no choice but to kill the vampire version of his boyfriend at the airport in order to save his life and has to face crippling guilt (set during the Vampire Infection Outbreak arc)

Day eleven: Mulder x Scully: “Time Loop” - where Scully is forced to confront truthful evidence of the paranormal in a most heart-breaking way

Day twelve: Asra x Julian: “Semi-Conscious” - where Julian finds it funny that Asra fell asleep on the water fountain until he heard the half-asleep words Asra muttered out (during the Red Plague disaster)

Day thirteen: Yuta x Inumaki: “You Weren’t Supposed To Get Hurt” - where Yuta bandages Inumaki’s injuries after the Shibuya arc and has to deal with conflicting emotions

Day fourteen: Yor x Loid: “Blood-Stained Tiles” - where Loid walks in to blood all over his apartment floor and has to face the truth that he realized his human emotions for Anya and Yor too late… until Yor proves to him that no one underestimates her

Day fifteen: Tecchou x Jouno: “Who Did This To You?” - where Tecchou fails and Jouno takes out his sadistic self on the opponents that dared to ruin Tecchou’s mood and that pretty face of his

Day sixteen: Asra x Apprentice: “Came Back Wrong” - where Asra ponders whether or not it was a mistake to bring you back after you’ve become so different after your reincarnation

Day seventeen: Albert x reader: “Hostage Situation” - where you are taken hostage by a noble and Albert finds sweet revenge

Day eighteen: Sherlock x Watson: “Too Weak To Move” - where Sherlock takes too much, and John no longer knows how to stop it all

Day nineteen: L x Light: “Please Don’t” (this might end up being more crack than whump though) - where L should’ve followed his instinct, and Light refused to follow a human’s heart

Day twenty: Yor and Yuri (platonic, sibling bond): “Truth Serum” - where Yor is accidentally injected with a truth serum on the job, and Yuri learns his sister’s secrets

Day twenty-one: William x Sherlock: “Unresponsive” - where Sherlock has to face the idea of William never waking up and having failed to save the man he loved before he could even tell him the things he wanted to tell him (set post-The Final Problem arc)

Day twenty-two: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto: “You Weren’t Meant To Be There” - where Satoru uses Suguru as a moral compass at the worst time possible (set post-KFC breakup but pre-Jujutsu Kaisen: 0)

Day twenty-three: James x Sherlock: “Presumed Dead” - written in two letters, Sherlock to James and James to Sherlock (set post-The Final Problem)

Day twenty-four: Julian x Apprentice: “I’m Doing This Because I Care About You” - where Julian can’t help but sacrifice himself for the sake of his beloved (my take on what the Reversed Ending for Julian might be like since I haven’t played it yet)

Day twenty-five: Kenji x Kyouka: “Waterboarding” - where Kenji takes a case that goes wrong, and when Kyouka finds the damage done she doesn’t know how to help the sun she has grown to love shine light down on her again (this one is just downright cruel, I’m sorry)

Day twenty-six: one sided!Asra x Muriel: “Help Them” - where Muriel lives to protect Asra’s wishes, even if Asra wouldn’t choose to protect him first

Day twenty-seven: Megumi x Yuji: “Left For Dead” - a sort of alternate take on the current chapters of the manga, where Sukuna knew he needed to ruin Megumi’s mental state, so before killing Tsumiki he tries to kill Yuji first and Yuji stands no chance against the King of Curses

Day twenty-eight: Kaworu x Shinji: “No… Not Like This” - where Kaworu is fed up with not being able to make Shinji happy, and decides he’ll take matters into his own hands. He realizes before it’s too late… it’s still hopeless

Day twenty-nine: Sherlock x Watson: “Not Allowed To Die” - where John understood the hidden messages underneath Sherlock’s behavior, and so he’s there to stand with him against Moriarty or to die with him

[true-blue-sonic]

May I request 5, 2, 7 for the ask game?

Yes, of course!🍀

5. ⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

....Heh😅 I have one story that is basically 95% completed right now when it comes to the storyline: one wherein Silver takes Sonic with him to the future to rectify a mistake in the history books. I just need to rewrite the paragraphs and sentence structure somewhat, and give Silver's friends in the future a bit more of a role. But that aside... The WIP that's been living rent-free in my head today is one taking place after Rivals 2 wherein Silver originates from a good future, where he was the only one aware of the dangers Eggman Nega would cause them. But I have very little written for it so far, nor do I really know in what direction to take it... Another possible option is the one I talked about here, with Silver from '06 and Silver from Rivals meeting. That one will be a shorter story for sure.

2. 🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

Silver from a good future wherein he was the only one aware of the dangers Eggman Nega would cause them + Espio in the past seeing Silver's various internal conflicts and wanting to help = eventual Espilver romance because I adore this ship and I am 100% down for writing another slow burn romance for them, lol.

7. 🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

“You travelled back in time again just to thank me for letting you stay the night?” Espio smiled, the hedgehog floating in the air above his bed positively pouting.

“I owe you. I don’t let that go by unremarked.”

“And you came busting through my window at like six in the morning to repay that debt?”

“I don’t know what time it is here compared to my own, okay!! I just came here to find you!"                                                                                               

And Espio couldn’t help it; he laughed, not able to withhold it as Silver’s glare soured immensely. “I appreciate the fact that you are so worried about it,” he assured the other, throwing the covers off himself and stretching his muscles out with a content hum. “Though, now that you are here, I simply must offer you breakfast. And did you get enough sleep?”

“We are not doing this again,” Silver grumbled back, bopping up and down and studying the ceiling while Espio shot into his shoes and closed his slightly-suffering window creaking on its wrung-out hinges. Silver had come busting through quite literally, flinging it right open and nearly giving Espio a heart attack as he shot right awake… Tugging the kunai pierced through the wall right beside it, that had almost been the end of the psychic if he hadn’t jumped out of the way with a yowl himself, the chameleon nodded.

“Of course not. Tea?”

“…Sure.”

“And oatmeal?”

“I’m not hungry. I ate yesterday evening too, after all.”

“That is unfortunate, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Walking into the hallway and waving off a very disturbed, groggy Vector peering through his own opened door at them Espio studied Silver up and down. The bags underneath his eyes definitely had gotten worse, the hedgehog as a whole just a bit sluggish.

[missiodei]

Echoes of the Past

Cw: Torture, eye trauma, bugs, centipedes

[Google Doc]

"Why do you resist salvation?"

The familiarity of the voice is subconsciously enough to bring you back to reality.

Salvation?

Thoughts crowd your head as your eyes struggle to perceive your surroundings. Your dazed senses slowly begin to come to you, as if you were being born again. The burning sensation on your wrists draws your attention first as you find them tightly bound to a chair, though you're not awake enough to fight them.

"What..," you groan low, instinctively attempting to move your hand as your blurry vision takes in what it could in the dark room.

"Take your time. You won't learn unless I have your full attention."

What?

"Come on, you're usually quicker than this."

How contradictory. Alright, think. Where were you before this? You recall being in the cathedral. Hardly home, but it is home. It's all you've known for as long as you could remember. There was a gathering, a meeting...mass. Yes.

Tonight was to be special, at least for you. Though you'd long since been promoted to priesthood, this was to be the first time you headed the ritual mass alone. You remember standing before the congregation, and before seven trolls upon their knees. You trained for this. It was a simple ceremony: lead the church in prayers, offer devotion to the goddess, preach the merits of suffering. You looked to the trolls before you, some willing in their presence and others not, letting the thurible pendulate from first to last, left to right and back. A clean sweep would end the misery of the frightened, and grant mercy to the devout. One clean sweep, and the congregation would have their acephalous effigies.

You trained for this. You were trained for this.

...

In your recollection your lips mouth the words that sealed your fate: I refuse.

You couldn't do it. It wasn't mercy, it's cruelty. It was a spectacle.

The familiar unease begins to seep into you. Slowly, your heart rate kicks up, faster, harder. You take a deep breath, though the constriction brings more light to your predicament. You were being watched, observed. He caught you. You don't want to be here.

"No," you protest. Your memory fogs your vision. You blacked out at that ceremony, but you distinctly remember your hand driving the thurible across those trolls' heads, as if your body had been but a mere vehicle you had no control over.

"Hm hm hm, it remembers," the voice taunts. You still haven't looked to your tormentor. Every fiber of your being is telling you not to bother, telling you to fight against the ropes binding you down. Fight against the bugs crawling over your skin that you're certain were not there before. You hear the cracking of bones under the sound of your own heartbeat, the sound that always accompanies the Cardinal.

"Ah- fuck!" you exclaim, the legs of the centipedes seem to dig deep into your flesh with each step they take. No matter how many times you've experienced this, it never gets easier. It's as if you're forced to forget the feeling, forced to experience it new, fresh, every single time. You know what comes next. You know it in how they slither towards your neck and your jaw drops open, despite your efforts to keep it shut.

"Ease, Cariral, oh-! I-," you plead in vain. You're already choking on them, feeling them stab into your throat as they make their way down one, two.. three. You want to vomit but you can't; he won't let you.  By the time you're able to control yourself you're already hyperventilating. Your throat is sore from the assault, your gut wrenches and you can feel one of them beginning to crawl its way back up.

"Agh, please make it stop I'm-," you choke on your words again. You'd hunch over in pain if you could, certain that the centipede in your throat just bit into you.

"Sorry? Right," the man finishes your sentence. He stands from the seat he'd been observing you from, and you feel his fingers press firmly against your face as he directs your focus to him. Directs your focus from the other bugs nearing your ear.

"W-wait... Cardinal Axeron, l-let me fix this," you begin to panic. You don't know what those are doing, where they're going. You don't know why he's so angry with you this time.

"I-I-I can do better I-"

"No. There's nothing for you to fix. Clearly, this is an error on my part," the Cardinal says odiously.

They're in your ears. You try to scream and thrash, but he's holding your head so tight you fear you may snap your neck. Even that would be a mercy in comparison as the sound of their legs and chirping fills your ears, as the pain rings throughout your head and tears run down your face. Your body convulses, and you can't stop the drool running from your mouth.

"I am so sick of you, Cilian," he says, somehow his voice echoing clear despite the pressure in your skull.

"What an embarrassment to me you are, and after I've been so reasonable," the Cardinal roughly discharges your head from his hold, and the sensations of all bugs disappear along with it. He drags his hand over your head to rid himself of the bit of saliva you'd gotten on his glove. Still frantic, your eyes look over every inch of your body that you could see, overwrought with anxiety.

"To think you’d be as much a thorn in my side as that other wretch was. So much wasted potential," he continues, stepping away behind you as you catch your breath. You come to realize it was all a hallucination, though the pain was very real; you still feel as though you've been stabbed internally, in every place those creatures touched. In every place he touched.

"But you see, I realize now  you simply lack the vision,” he says. You hear metal scrape against metal before the footsteps echo towards you.

“I’m going to fix your eyes, child,” he steps into your view.

“What do you mean you’re going to fix my eyes?” you interject, the sharp tone in your voice almost inciting you to feel guilt, even fear for its direction. You find yourself leaning away from the scalpel he draws near your face, and your hands shake as your eyes meet with his. 

“They’re clouded, I’ll have to make you see clearly. As I did with your ancestor.”

“I don’t… I don’t want that I don’t need-” your mouth closed shut and your eyes widened.

“See, this is why it’s important to not interrupt,” he smiles.

“I said. I’m going to fix your eyes, Cilian, and you are going to let me.”

Your chest aches as your heart races again. He’s hijacked your body once more and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you can do except yell and plead when he allows you agency over your lips again.

“Hold still, now,” he says as he leans down to you. As if you had any choice. The blade of the scalpel blurs the background the closer it gets to your eye, and you desperately try to regain control of your body to pull away.

“Cardinal I’m sorry please don’t-” your words are cut off by a visceral scream as the scalpel drives into your eye slowly. Slits are cut into you, one, two, deeply. Streams of purple run down your face and the pain makes you wretch. You’ve lost vision in that one eye, and soon after the process is repeated in the other. It isn’t easier the second time in the slightest. 

You try not to cry, you really do, but the pain and mental anguish is too much. Your tears do nothing to quell the agony, and neither does the hand that lifts your chin. 

“Let me see,” he commands. You try your best to open an eye, not wanting to feel him inside you again, desiring to hold on to some facet of control over yourself without making things worse.

“Attaboy,” he says. It makes you sick. He turns your head, inspecting you as if you were a mere object. You can’t see it, but he’s admiring the golden glow that now seeps from your eyes like sunlight through clouds. You’d thought you’d lost your vision but it slowly returns, painfully and…altered. 

You witness a form you’d never seen before, hovering over the Cardinal’s shoulder. Six wings and seven heads, all eyes on you. The words it communicates appear like runes within your recovering sight, chilling you to your very core..

And then you wake up, frantic, hair a mess in your hive. You’re an adult; you have been for many sweeps now. Right. You’d fallen asleep with your matesprit Vaughn…who should be next to you. As if on queue you hear the sound of his music from the shower, which puts your mind at ease. 

Everything is alright. It was just a dream. A frequent, terrible nightmare.

An unwanted memory.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

Burn For Me - Chapter 26a

*Warning Adult Content*

Teagan Bateman

"Pet," the sound of his raspy gargled voice grated on my ears and I growled as I lay by my still mate, licking his bruised neck with everything in me.

I knew there was nothing I could do about an internal injury but I had to do something.

"Do you rem-member- when you first ca-came to me?"

How was he still alive, after I tore into him like I did.

His throat was nothing but bloody bone, I should have bit into that too.

My rumbling growl warned him to just die.

He laughed to the best of his abilities.

"W-we found you in the forest, just about ten years old I think," he spat out blood from the effort.

I turned my head, ears laid back as bared my bloody teeth at him.

He smiled like the sadist he was.

"Abandoned at such a young age."

I shifted from my wolf form, back to my human one.

"Keep talking fucker and I'll burn you alive," I snarled at him.

"I ju-just want you t-to know the truth," his red smeared teeth showed again, as he stared at me with glazed eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about, just die already," I snapped through clenched teeth.

"Y-your parents gave you to me," the sentence made me stop.

"What?" I frowned at him.

"You may not kn-know what I am but both y-you and your brother were offered as paym-ment in exchange for a c-c-certain stone only a Syrith can make," he continued.

"Syrith? What the hell is that?"

"Me, p-pet," he laughed.

"And to th-think yo-your parents care more about a c-couple of stones than their own childr-en," he mocked.

I stood and stalked over to him, I formed a ball of fire in my hand ready to burn him to ash.

"Before you finish me off boy, do-n't you w-want to know who your p-p-poor little brother is?"

The fire in my hand flicked, at my hesitation and the Commander noticed.

"Ah, the p-poor thing, he was sent to the dun-dungeon about the same age as you -a couple -years later," he paused as he struggled to continue.

"And I'm pretty sure he suffered a great deal, my sisters can be ruthless, but as I've been told he escaped. My sisters aren't h-happy with their pet running loose I hope you know. Your pa-parents deal with the Syrith has been brok-en and they will be demanding payment, either from them or this... Lak-ota."

I felt my eyes grow wide with this information.

Flashes of the little wolf always by Cyrus's side, entered my head.

I opened my mouth to demand more information, only to find the Commander was finally dead.

The fire died in my hand, as I slowly made my way back to Connor.

All of a sudden I felt so weak.

I glanced at my naked body and realized I was still bleeding from the hole, that they used to pin me to the wall, in the basement.

My stomach hurt from hunger, my throat burned from lack of water.

Dizzily I stumbled and landed next to my mate.

Lazily I tucked Connor close to me and closed my eyes, unable to hold them open any longer.

I was so damn tired.

"Teagan."

"Connor," I heard a stifled call of our names, before I gave into the long awaited tiredness I'd been feeling for so long.

Then everything became quiet.

Elder Cyrus

Tamitha and I were pressed up against the wall as we heard a gargled voice speak, it was like he was choking on something.

"Before you finish me off boy, do-n't you w-want to know who your p-p-poor little brother is?"

I moved slightly to peep in the chapel door and what I saw had me back up against the wall in shock.

There were dead bodies of hunters everywhere.

I spotted Teagan as he stood over the body that was struggling to talk.

Did he do all this?

I looked again and noticed the chard holes in the dead closest to the door and shook my head.

No he couldn't have, he burned people to ash, he never left anything behind.

This had to be Connors work... but how?

My eyes trailed back up to Teagan and the male, Connor was a few feet away lying motionless on the floor.

I closed my eyes and moved away, Dammit.

"Ah, the p-poor thing, he was sent to the dun-dungeon about the same age as you -a couple -years later," the man paused as he struggled to continue.

"And I'm pretty sure he suffered a great deal, my sisters can be ruthless but as I've been told he escaped."

This made me pause, this story sounded too familiar.

"My sisters aren't very h-happy with their pet running loose I hope you know. Your pa-parents deal with the Syrith has been brok-en and they will be demanding payment, either from them or this... Lak-ota."

My eyes shot open in shock, Lakota?

Teagan was Lakota's brother?

There was a silence now before a loud thumping sounded loudly echoing in the church.

I turned quickly to see Teagan collapsed next to Connors still form.

"Teagan," I rushed inside.

"Connor," this time it was Tamitha who called out just now seeing the damage of the place as she followed me.

We ran to their sides only to be caught off guard by a light that encased the two.

"What the hell is that?" Tammy exclaimed as she backed away.

I watched as Teagan's ragged wounds began to heal right before my eyes.

"I don't know?" I spoke, walking up towards the two again and knelt down beside them reaching out a hand to touch Connors arm.

It was so warm and some kind of serene feeling wrapped around me.

It was almost, Moon Goddess and Wolf-Spirit like and for some strange reason I knew it was nothing I needed to worry about but just let happen.

I let go and turned towards the male Teagan was talking to.

There was torn flesh all around him and a skeleton for a neck.

It was amazing that he would still talk after all this damage.

So this was the Syrith.

I sighed rubbing my eyes.

"Let's get this place cleared and these two home."

[fairymint]

💖

multishipping brainrot meme

💖 How did their first impressions go down? What initially attracted them to their crush/partner?

The twin's (seperate verses) attraction to Felix couldn't be more different asjlkdslad. Ingo is drawn to cuteness in general, and has a very romantic and aesthetic attaction; to him Felix has always been adorable, pretransition to present day. Note that he has no libido and is asexual, so there's no sexual motivation there. ....Meanwhile Emmet will very directly and bluntly pull Felix into the bedroom, and proclaim that he's been wanting to do this from the moment he saw him. There is romantic love there, and secondhand pride- But Emmet's a very physical and boastful person. completely different sides of hedonism there.

Arven is motivated by Felix's kindness; his crush formed right when being offered help before even finishing his sentence. So, what he looks like or anything like that is a bit of a bonus, think of his love as 'upgrading' a worthy stranger to Family type of deal. So he's probably drawn more to attitude first? Unfortunately for Arven there was never a 'good time' to confess, he intended to do it perhaps the next day, but it doesn't happen until postgame. So he does suffer in the meantime, and I hc it as a 'everyone can see it except these two idiots' kind of deal.

Volo is a more slow-burn, but he starts falling hard after he figures out that Felix is not a child- Felix's kindness and skill sparks it, which devolves into a shit ton of repressed bisexual nonsense to the extent of self-harm; "Too good for this world." my Volo muse spends the whole game simping in secret to the point of nightmares and attempted murder- with the logic that the new world takes priority. With no new world, that comes crashing down, tbh. As a shinto-inspired muse, my Volo was raised on the 'hisui was created via sex itself' myth, so sex is...also a holy thing to him, he's not a protestant/christian portrayal. As a general rule he kind of fetishizes most new things he learns about his crushes; sort of perpetuating the treatment he's gotten both from having albinism and from his youth/appearance.

This either calms down of gets worse depending on if he got his way; lose, win, or having that 200+ year delay. But when his dreams get ripped from under him his focus becomes completely on Felix/his s/o;;;

[shimbongulus]

Finding Yourself Chapter 8: I Ran

If September was busy, then October had been slavish, and November was hell on earth for Frisk and Chara.

Between papers, study sessions with Jean, and project work, Frisk and Chara were left glued to laptops with a mild caffeine addiction.

That might have explained why both Frisk and Chara sat at their couch drinking coffee at 8 P.M, desperately working on final projects.

“You know,” spoke Frisk, “If I just put this off until after Thanksgiving break -”

Chara interrupted them, “If you put this off until after Thanksgiving break, the quality of the presentation will suffer. Getting it done now means we can coast through the end of the semester.”

Frisk sought a counter-argument, but could only produce a sigh. “Sometimes I hate it when you’re right.”

As Frisk continued pulling together sources and finishing their paper, they spoke, “After I get this wrapped up, I’m probably going to go talk to Jean, see if she’s doing alright.”

“You still worry about those men from the dining hall?”

Frisk shrugged, “Kind of, but I’d guess they’re probably as busy as us.” Frisk chuckled a bit, and Chara joined them.

“Besides, I’m more worried that Jean’s stressing out. She had a C in an Archaeology class, and she’s got to ace that final or she’ll fail.”

Chara sighed, “Frisk, you are noble, but you need to learn when to save your energy for your own struggles.”

Frisk shot a glare at their sibling, “I’m fine, Chara. I’ve almost got this done. I can rest after I’ve got this project done and helped Jean study.”

Their sibling rolled their eyes, “If you claim so. I will be here to take care of you when you finally burn out and need help.”

Frisk snorted, “What’s with the patronizing?”

They shut their laptop as they turned to Chara, who seemed to have an apologetic look now. “I am sorry. I simply worry about you - I seem to have done too good a job at bettering your work ethic.”

Frisk shook their head, “No… no, it’s..”

Their head was swimming in thoughts as they laid back and took a moment to pause and drain the last of their mug. “It’s fine if you want to look out for me, I just feel like, if you want to help me out, just keep an eye on me. You know when I struggle.”

Chara nodded and extended their arms out for a hug, Frisk accepting the offer as the siblings shared an embrace on the couch.

(Read More...)