#but there are others that i simply cannot handle and the mere thought of eating them makes me feel sick

[actualaster]

I think some people genuinely don't grasp the concept of "sensory issues" when it comes to things like food.

A food sensory issue is not "I don't want to eat that because it isn't my preferred flavor"

A food sensory issue is "something about the taste/texture/smell of this is incompatible with my brain and it makes me gag and if you try to force that into me I will choke on it and/or throw up"

A food sensory issue is "something set me off and now I can't eat for hours because I feel sick to my stomach and there isn't a way to fix that especially if the sensory trigger is lingering like a smell"

A food sensory issue is "you might as well have asked me to eat a bowl full of rocks because this is about as edible to me, no matter how much I wish that weren't the case"

A food sensory issue is "I haven't eaten anything decent in 3 days because I haven't had a chance to go to the store and I don't have anything left I'm physically capable of eating"

A food sensory issue is "I'm super fucking hungry but I took one bite and no matter how hard I tried to eat it I automatically gagged it back out because my body completely rejects it because of the taste/texture/smell"

A food sensory issue is "struggling to maintain a passable diet so you don't have a bunch of deficiencies because what you can eat is restricted"

Quite frankly, food sensory issues should really be treated similarly to food allergies in that you cannot safely try to trick or force a person to eat them.

[chogiwow]

andante, andante | kim seungmin

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, mature tones

warning: mature tones, nothing descriptive. quite a lot of longing. a lot of yearning.

wc: ~1k

a/n: yes so this is based entirely off an archetype quiz i took. seungmin is quite literally in love with ‘the lover’.

you are too much.

you are too much for seungmin and he cannot handle you, you are overwhelming but he simply loves to drown in you. drown in your eccentricity of pure madness, drown in your sensuality of simply stretching your limbs but arching so far back he thinks he might have to stick his head inside the refrigerator just to calm himself down. drown in you, you, you.

seungmin barely breathes around you, barely has enough time to catch his breath. he has to remind himself to stop and inhale and look away once in a while just so his over wired brain does not start malfunctioning at your mere sight.

while seungmin continually seeks to find solace in everything you do, in every sultry gaze you affix him with despite where you are, he finds his raging mind calming down only when you’re alone, limbs tangled and breaths short; even when the storm in his mind is only just starting to brew, spiralling in rivulets around his rampant desires, he finds your touch ice like on his skin, sizzling out his scorching yearning with a hiss, like the soothing balm on a throbbing headache, cool iced water on a hot parching summer afternoon, the first drops of rain after a sweltering heat wave.

yet you are hot as you are cold (and not just quite in the literal sense, seungmin’s feelings go much deeper than the shallow perceptions of physical appearances). your rage scorches him on days it thunders and rains inside your little bubble, your passion making itself known in turbulent waves of outbursts. you’re always looking to do something, your projects as unconventional as they are borne out of spontaneous hyperfixations. and when you finally grow weary of them, rendered feverish by your own passion, your burning body is left to find solace against seungmin’s, wrapping yourself like a second skin on his frame, melting, melting, melting. melting till you’re practically the same being, distinct perhaps by your heartbeats, which too, beat in tandem. your craving makes seungmin hungry too, like watching someone eat so deliciously, so ravenously; it leaves seungmin grasping at the limited thoughts his conservative mind is able to produce, begging, aching to break those boundaries and quest for a sinful place he knows exists.

how would it feel, seungmin wonders to be your only pursuit of passion? to have him unravel as you do already at the merest of words, to have him on his knees like you do already at the gentlest of touch, to have him throw all caution to the wind as you already do at your mere presence? to have you never slow down, never grow weary of him, never be completely quenched of your thirst for him.

there is no pace in the way you exist for each other – calling it love almost feels demeaning, reducing this feeling to that four lettered word; it is too mainstream, too insignificant and seungmin doesn’t care much for it – on some days, it is languid like torpid water trickling down a stream in glittering strokes, the heaviness settled behind eyes which weighs your bodies against each other’s, simply breathing in your scents. it's slow like a dull afternoon, with lazy eyes slowly scanning across the page of a leisurely book, his hands tangled in your hair while your head weighs on his laps comfortably.

and on other days it showers on you in livid gushes, leaving you both clawing at each other, at whatever you bared yourself to the other, grappling, gasping and surfacing for air; leaving the waters scathed and bruised but heavy on adrenaline of the gravity that tried so hard to drown you in the first place.

seungmin is not a goner, he is not a loser. he is not a simp. he is simply in love. but he cannot tell you that; he cannot say he is in love with you without going off on a tangent of what exactly it is that he is in love with – what makes the things so distinctly you and how it does nothing to soothe his raging mind nor the constant urge to simply throw himself into the ocean and drift away till he can stop thinking about you.

but you have a suspicion, that seungmin might have taken a sip too long of you and then left to quench for another taste; you have a suspicion that he may be so intoxicated off of you that you fear having to ask him to put in bare naked words the truth in three syllables. seungmin doesn’t know, but he loves so severely, you’re afraid he leaves no bite of it for himself. so you love him all the more, to compensate his own lack of it but seungmin is too far gone. seungmin has long since drowned, unaware that he has taken you along with him to the pits of hell itself where the lava under your bare feet feels right and the flaming torches of fire licking at your skin feel like a reward.

because seungmin is just there at the end of the day, to caress your unadorned feet, burned and blistered – kiss your aching heels and walk with you on his back, stepping on stones and letting himself bleed for you. seungmin is there at the end of the day to wrap you in his arms as he makes his way through the fire he lit himself, your skin safe and unexposed to the flames that threaten to burn you down.

seungmin lets himself burn for you, drown for you, choke on air for you while you watch but helplessly; hoping that at the end of the day, when he finds solace in you, you can kiss the pain away.

[gainprincess]

There are some things that one simply does not expect in life. Some things that one simply cannot expect in life, because they are so unusual and unlikely that it should not even enter one's field of thought.

There are many such things, of course.

The youngest Gorgon sister, Medusiana, becoming an obese, meaty, greedy bovine...is one of these things. A woman so powerful, taciturn, and focused, becoming a cow beyond the ken of any reasonable person...well, that's just flat-out ridiculous in its unlikelihood.

The Alter-Ego of Pleasure, Meltryllis, becoming an equally indescribable lardass alongside her...well, that's not even in the realm of viable thought. Meltryllis values her slim figure above all else, considering her body a hand-crafted masterpiece that exemplifies beauty. The idea that she'd give it up for Medusa, a woman that, while someone she is endeared to by appearance alone, she does not really know that well or particularly care about...it's deranged. Obscene. Utterly absurd in premise alone, let alone execution.

And yet.

Meltryllis can say that she's never smiled this much before. She's never been this pleased, this content, this happy with someone. Not before her Albrecht arrived. She calls Medusa Albrecht when indignant, horny, or lovestruck, and her name normally. So what if the man of her dreams is a woman? That doesn't matter. Medusa's more man than most actual men anyway, in her heart.

Medusa is her boyfriend now, and all that means is that they can go on as many dates as they want, and be together.

Medusa, for all her unending hunger and lust, agrees with that, at the very least. Her happiness derives from Melt's, and as long as that blubbery face is smiling, so to will her own.

It was very hard at first; Resisting the urge to just go full-glutton and achieve her newfound dreams at the expense of Melt's feelings. To just eat and eat and eat, letting the Alter-Ego either watch or snap up the remainders. But she didn't.

After all...love redeems. It does not fix. It does not save. It does not truly cleanse. But it does redeem.

Because, dear viewer, it must be restated that Medusa is insane. Irrevocably so. However, she is not evil because of it. She is merely more Berserker than Saber at this moment. And focusing that insanity on a single person, one that can handle it...well, that's something she'd like. She doesn't want to be evil, after all; just fat.

However, regardless of their focus shifting to 'lovey-dovey together time', they're still Heroic Spirits devoted to the survival of Humanity, despite this new priority.

So they've decided to hit two BBs with one Noble Phantasm.

How, you ask?

...

"WHAT THE HELL, ALBRECHT?! THAT WAS MY TABLE!"

Her incredibly-obese frame bumps against her lover's in indignance, sending the Saber wobbling into another bar table, taking the thing into her gaping maw like it was a damn thing of Jello. How dare her boyfriend be so good at this?! Gulping incredibly long, massive things is her thing now that they're together! This is bullshit!

"There's...BBBBBBBBWWEEEEEELLLLLLCCCCHHHHH!~...plenty more on the other side of the bar, beloved...I wouldn't dream of letting you become underweight, after all. Please do not fret. The Grail is in this bar as well, so we can consider this a final meal before the next Singularity."

"Hwwwhurrrppp...f-fine. But only because the Singularity's collapsing. The next one we go to needs to be a more modern one than this; I want a hotel for us. And room service..."

Ah, yes. Meltryllis and Medusa, after consuming Holy Grails, have gained the ability to Rayshift independently. It was less of 'their wish' and more of 'their default reward' for such a hedonistic act. It gave them what they really wanted: A chance to be together, while also not forsaking their respected Master and Humanity.

Using singularities both minute and massive, they warped to and from everything on Chaldea's lists, recovering whatever Grail was responsible, and either sending it back to their Master or just chomping it themselves. Medusa, for what it's worth, has turned this minor German singularity's grail into snake-ass already.

"Whatever you wish for, my love...you will be given. I promise.~"

...

"You're...HHURRRRRPPPPP...just as lovely as always, Albrecht...~"

"If...hfff..I am..it is only due to your support. Your affection. Your true, unshakable love for me."

She reaches out with a soft, hammy hand, cupping and stroking Melt's cheek as she murmurs at her. Lying in bed with Melt in some fancy penthouse post-coitus or post-meal is always her ideal time. Since they've finally found a modern city again...They get to have the most wonderful cuddles again.

"Medusa..."

It's this that makes Melt's numbed, bloated arms want to reach for Medusa. She wants so badly to just reach out and touch her Medusa, to feel such ponderous obesity for herself...to let her know that every inch of passion is returned, without having to say it in words. Her legs aren't much better, either, since the prosthetics she swaps into for close contact lack feedback receptors, meaning that she can't tell if she's brushing legs with Medusa, even if she wants to.

At times, it makes Melt hurt. It makes her heart throb to not be able to do all those things couples do non-verbally. Because her sadistic bitch of a mother thought it funny to ruin the parts of her that she felt would be unnecessary.

But when Medusa cups her cheek like that, and she feels their blubbery, gurgling guts ooze over one another...? It calms her back down again. The bottom-heavy hog-dancer's ass wobbles and WHAMCLAPs against itself as Melt snuggles closer into the other fatass's embrace. She has no chest to speak of, so the feeling of Medusa's engorged cow-chest mashing against her own is...invigorating.

"Hey...I'm here, alright?"

Medusa strokes her cheek again, pressing a soft kiss to Melt's forehead. Her other hammy hand rests itself around the bloated side-rolls of the Alter-Ego's stomach, kneading the doughy fat gently.

"Would you like me to get a breast out for you?"

"N-nononono, I'm alright...You filled me up plenty earlier."

She sighs wistfully, resting her lardy head on Medusa's heavy bust.

"I'm just...happy we get to be together like this at all, you know? I was afraid that...um. You wouldn't think I was pretty enough. Or you'd think I was just another Sakura. Or..."

Melt's voice trails off as she starts mumbling to herself. She's never really shared this much about her feelings with Medusa before. Her bad ones, anyway. The thoughts that eat away at her every time she feels those soft meaty arms wrap around her body.

"...You've been thinking about this for a while, I see...You've always felt this way, then? Since the first time I ate that Singularity for you?"

Melt's tiny nod is the only confirmation Medusa needs.

"Well, then let's start with the basics. When have I ever called you Sakura, Melt?"

"N-Never, but that's..."

"You're the beauty of Chaldea, the apple of my eye. You're Meltryllis, the Alter Ego of Pleasure, but you're also Meltryllis, the woman who would sacrifice everything for the sake of her love. You're Melt, the woman who I've had the pleasure of watching devour, consume, and digest anything and everything she views as a potential advantage to herself. You're Melt, the woman who I've seen fall flat on her blubbery gut more times than I can count, and most of the time, I have to help you up after."

"Medusa...!"

The embarrassed hissing doesn't register in Medusa's ears. She's already lost in her lovestruck monologue. Insanity can mean many things, but it USUALLY doesn't mean that one will become absorbed and obssessed by her lover's every action.

Medusa, however. Is very unusual.

"You're everything I do want, everything I will want, and everything I need. You are my Giselle, after all, yes? That means I must never leave you, or I'll suffer your vengeance after you've passed."

"...You know about that part of the play?"

"Well, you call me Albrecht quite often, so...I watched a few recordings, and read the novelization...Was I not supposed to?"

Medusa feels a twinge of regret. Has she erred so soon into their relationship?

"I'm so-"

"Nonononononoo, none of that angsty bull. I'm flattered and overjoyed that you took the time to learn about my favorite play, and I love you very much for that dedication, okay?"

Forcing herself forward to press a kiss to Medusa's soft lips, she sighs happily, feeling the Saber's fingers glide through her hair. She breaks the kiss, looking at Medusa with all the love a person can possess.

"My dear, sweet Albrecht."

"I love you too, my lovely, lonely Giselle. I'll make sure you'll never doubt my feelings again. In fact...shall we go exploring tomorrow?"

As Medusa's soothing words massage her brain, Melt feels tiredness start to take over her obese frame. In this tired state...she muses.

Maybe Medusa was always meant to beat her like this; To make her someone docile, agreeable, and happy. Maybe she's more like Prince Charming instead of Albrecht; Medusa would never bring her harm, after all.

"Mmmh...gnnaahhhh....Yeah, that...smack...that sounds nice. I'll...borrow some of Lambda's clothes...so we can have a real fun day in the town before we eat and locate the Grail..."

Her eyes flicker and blink, the stubborn Alter Ego wobbling in place in an attempt to stay awake a little longer. Sure, Medusa's all she sees when she closes her eyes anyway, but...she wants a bit more of the real thing...

"Albrecht...my sweet Albrecht...~"

That's the last thing Melt says before she closes her eyes one last time...and Medusa starts hearing peaceful snores from her blubbery love.

"Sweet dreams, Melt...I love you."

As she reaches over the hammy dancer, gently nipping at her ear when she shuts off the lights, she fantasizes about what they'll do tomorrow.

Her eternity with Meltryllis...

It's only just beginning.~

[snowflowers-ffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 - #12: Quarry

noun

— an animal or bird hunted or pursued

— game, especially game hunted with hounds or hawks

There—!

Spells could fell a quarry as effectively as any spear or arrow and sometimes it could lead to some interesting applications. Such as now. With a flick of her arm and swinging her cane as though it were a rod, she summoned forth a small geyser in the river before her, carrying with it a trio of fish. With another swish, the fish were deposited on the bank at her feet, leaving them to splash about helplessly on land.

“Wow…” Alphinaud breathed, “Never would I have thought to use magic to fish before. I still have much to learn.”

Estrild smiled a little as she put her cane away and pulled out a knife from her belt. Landing the killing strike at the end of a hunt was never something she was ever fully comfortable with, but the necessity of it was an unavoidable part of life, especially when one was an adventurer. And besides, one simply did not grow up in the Black Shroud and not know how to make the most of nature’s bounty.

Uttering a quick prayer of thanks for her prey, she cleaned and gutted first fish as Alphinaud watched on with an expression of half-amazement and half-revulsion. She could understand it. It really wasn’t very pleasant of a sight—even more when one was not accustomed to witnessing the… earlier parts of preparing ingredients for a meal.

Times like these were little reminders that Alphinaud had grown up far more privileged than she.

She paused as the second fish fell limp under her palm. “Would you like to try?”

Alphinaud gaped. “Me?”

She spun the knife around in her hand and held it out to him, handle out. “Yes, you. You just said you still had much to learn, didn’t you?”

“I did.” He gingerly took the knife. “If I can gather firewood…”

Watching the young lord guy a fish was quite the experience. Estrild had never seen anyone do it so clumsily despite her attempts to help guide and direct where to cut. At least, not in a long while. Still… not bad for a first try.

“You will get better with practice,” she assured him as she picked up the fishes, one after another, and cleaned the insides with a burst of water aspected aether. She used to do this with Hafren when they fished. He’d catch the fish with a rod and kill them before handing them over to her for gutting and cleaning. The trick of using magic in lieu of a rod was something she learned later.

“It is harder than it looks,” Alphinaud admitted, handing the knife back to her. “I have never put much thought in where the food I eat came from and how it was prepared… You must think me terribly out of my depth with how much this journey is showing my lack of basic survival skills…”

She blinked, wondering where this had came from. Did Estinien say something? was her first thought, but if he had, she couldn’t fault him for it. Alphinaud’s pampered upbringing had never been more apparent. Estrild could see it. Estinien could see it. Ysyale could see it. Their concern for him when he wandered off on his own on some task or another was not merely on account of his age.

“It is never too late to learn,” she replied in an attempt to lighten his spirits. “And it is… not a bad thing. To rely on others to do what you cannot. After all, Ishgard will be counting on you to speak for them if we manage to gain an audience with Hraesvelgr.”

He nodded, slightly forlorn, but with some resolution.

Uncertain of what else to say to the boy, Estrild wrapped the fish up in a handkerchief and handed the bundle to him. “Can you take this to Ysayle?” Their campsite wasn’t too far from here. “I will join you once I clean up here.”

[nevertheless-moving]

Could you talk more about your gumbo jar jar au or the frog one? 🐸

hm on close review the frog promise draft is a now redundant drabble from this au. Here it is in its entirety:

“I will never join you,” Luke said with a sneer of disgust.

Palpatine, as well as the nearby politicians, Jedi masters, and reporters were taken aback. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, Master Jedi,” the Senator said incredulously. “Do you mean to tell me that you consider yourself separate from the Republic? I know the Jedi Council had disavowed recognizing you but I never could have imagined...” he trailed off, leaving the crowd to murmur in alarm.

“I mean I will never join the Sith,” the rogue master replied calmly. “I imagine you’re responsible for the traces of the dark side I felt amongst the trade federation leaders.”

“The Sith...I see.” Palpatine took a step back, deliberately reassuring tone and alarmed expression clearly indicated that he suspected the man before him of insanity. “It’s been a very long day and you clearly intended to do good by my humble home world. Perhaps your fellow Jedi can take you to the healers so you can-”

“Why are you working alongside a Sith Lord?” Luke cut off the Senator and addressed Grandmaster Yoda directly. 

“A Sith Lord, you say?” Master Yoda replied. “A most serious allegation, this is.”

Basically, Luke derails the Naboo Crisis by absolutely annihilating the trade federation army, only realizing after the fact when and where he is. This means that Padme turns right around from Tatooine and never voices her vote of no-confidence. Now, Palpatine probably had contingency plans in place, but the public accusation by a Jedi of being responsible for the crisis in the first place, despite absolutely no evidence, hurts his image enough that he’s not going to win a vote, because people will think it’s a power grab. 

And it’s funny cause it’s true but Luke only barely knows that! He’s just accusing Palpatine of being behind the first evil thing he sees and he fuckin happens to be right!!!

Anyway Luke doesn’t focus on Palpatine; there are like 10,000 other Jedi around. He commits himself first and foremost to completing his training with Master Yoda because sometime Yoda just dies and fades into thin air so, you know! He’s not going to procrastinate on that again!

He goes before the council and humbly asks to be taken on Yoda’s student (this is right before Qui-Gon can ask about Anakin- literally, Anakin and Qui-Gon are in the waiting room). He gives several extremely vague banthashit explanations of who he is ‘I’m a follower of the Force,’ where he comes from ‘the Force sent me,’ and why they should train him when he’s way too old ‘the Force willed it.’ Yoda is somewhat impressed because those are some real unhelpfully wise answers and- here’s the kicker- Luke actually believes them! 

He is really committed to being a Jedi! Is 110% all about being a luminous being! This is several years after return of the Jedi and Luke has pretty much just been hanging out in force temples meditating with ghosts so he has quintessential Jedi vibes, he just knows jackshit about anything!

What really clinches it for Yoda is the fact that his robe pocket starts squirming and he pulls out a live Nabooian Salt Frog. And hands it to Yoda like, “These are one of your favorites right? :) I saw it and I thought of you :)”

Now Yoda- let’s step back a second. Yoda is old. Yoda, in his youth, was a bit more feral. He’s a top level predator and the order has always celebrated diversity and being true to your origins! He’s hunted with Tortugans on Shili! He’s unhinged his jaw with Besalisks on Ojom! 

But as the Republic’s boundaries caved in on themselves, he was more and more put into contact with Core senators who tend to be unnerved by more, ah, carnivorous tendencies. And the more he was put into high level positions by virtue of being really frickin old, the more restrained he became in his public behavior. 

Decades passed and younglings who only ever knew his more ‘harmless-prank’ feral tendencies were increasingly shocked and scared to see him occasionally unhinge his jaw to eat a scrocodile whole. Some of the prey-origin younglings from that field trip actually avoided him for the rest of the their lives.

So. Yoda is still a carnivore- but- in private. With his padawans and his closest peers. But his closest peers age and die and his padawans get younger and smaller as the decades pass. He took on two herbivorous padawans in a row and as a result restrained himself from openly hunting with another soul for around for 50 years.

And then there’s Dooku. ‘Ah a human,’ he thinks. ‘They hunt sometimes. Well. They’re omnivores at least.’

And Dooku is- and I’m not saying this to shame Dooku- but he’s prissy. He likes...neatness. He’s not afraid of violence but force forbid it’s untidy. So when Yoda, excited to get his ambush predation on, takes 14 year old Dooku who’s barely ever left the sterile confines of Coruscant on a trip to a swamp world- yeaaahh it doesn’t go well. Dooku- he doesn’t mean to, honestly. How would he even know that Yoda might be sensitive about things? He’s Yoda. 

But Dooku sobbing openly and puking a little in a bush and running away from Yoda because his Master is terrifying and gross. It... kind of puts the nail in the coffin for Yoda being open about that side of himself. He doesn’t really have it in him to try again. People’s view of him is too fixed, they can’t handle him also being a flesh creature so he focuses on the luminous side of him which is and always was, genuinely, more important than him.

And that’s been the last 100 years or so. The thrill of a live kill is just a little piece of himself that he meditates away and that’s ok. He has the force. He has the order. He’s old anyway, a real hunt would probably hurt his joints. 

And then in comes Luke, radiating Light and earnestness and Jedi serenity while also holding out a very tasty looking live frog. And Yoda realizes Dooku’s not around, he’s surrounded by a council he trusts and respects and likes, none of whom are 14 year olds, all of whom have seen the galaxy and seen worse. He is almost seizing the moment but there’s a little part of him that shriveled up when Dooku cried that’s having a hard time accepting this.

“Want it for yourself, you do not?” Yoda cackles, playing off the offer.

Luke smiles sheepishly and pulls out another live frog. “I was saving it for later. Forgive me Master, your senses are keen as ever I see.”

And Yoda...it’s not about the bribe, really, so much as the symbolism, and it’s not about the flattery either, but darn is the kid really pulling out the stops to make himself likable. And he is a kid, to Yoda anyway. Everyone is these days. What does he care about numbers when there’s a boy smiling like his third padawan, an adorable Rodian who took great delight in their more amphibious and wild missions?

Yoda snatches one of the frogs and slowly raises it in a parody of a toast. Luke does the same. The rest of the council quietly watches in various shades of bewilderment and bemusement.

They’re not actually going to eat that right? Mace thinks. Ugh I hate frogs the skin is so slimy. Shaak Ti thinks. I cannot believe they’re not even offering me one. Yaddle thinks.

And Yoda bites the head off the frog in a quick snap of his jaws, the rest following rapidly. Luke does the same- a slight assist from the force helping his less specialized mandible tear through skin and bone in a well practiced move. He chews slower, but finishes the frog soon enough, the rest of the council looking on with deep uncertainty and a tiny bit of hunger, but no actual fear. They’re Jedi Masters; they’ve eaten everywhere, it’s just a little weird for a human to be eating a live animal and Yoda as far as anyone knew only ate stew and also they were in the middle of a council meeting.

Yoda belches and Luke smiles genially.

“Take you on as my padawan learner, I will. Much to learn you have, much to teach you, I do.”

Luke beams. The council looks on in shock. 

“Master Yoda,” Mace Windu says hesitantly, “He’s clearly in his late 20s, at the earliest. If this is about the... frog thing-”

“Was a pleasant surprise, the frog. The reason for my decision, it is not. Had some training already, he has. Know each other before this day, we do. Taking over for a Master passed into the force, I am merely. Our custom, this is.”

Luke bows lowly and an initiate is summoned to escort him to the quartermasters and then the long-empty padawan suite next to Yoda’s chambers. 

Qui-Gon and Anakin are brought in and. Well. It’s a little hard for them to simply reject the boy after Yoda just pulled that stunt. He’s sent to the initiates dorm, eventually. Mace Windu has a headache from the shatterpoints blinking in and out of existence. Shaak Ti is delighted to discuss a hunting trip with Master Yoda and his new padawan learner Luke Svader. 

The force dances.

[thecreaturecodex]

Meazel

Image © Wizards of the Coast

[I like what 5e has done with a lot of classic D&D monsters. But I do not like their meazel. I love the art; it’s a faithful adaptation of the original Russ Nicholson design. But I do not like that they’ve taken away the disease connection that they’ve had since the beginning (the 1e mezel merely suffered from disease, but from 2e to 4e, they could spread it) and replaced with with yet another shadow teleport ability. Lots of Mordenkainen monsters have shadow teleport abilities, because a major theme of the book is the Shadowfell.

The origins of meazels have been bandied about in different ways in various editions. In 4e, they were humans who made a bad deal with Baalzebuul. In 5e, they’re hermits who retreated into the Shadowfell and became twisted monsters. But personally, I’ve always thought of them as being based on The Mewlips, a poem by Tolkien. Both meazels and mewlips live in marshes and are greedy and murderous. So I’ve given the meazels the name mewlip as an endonym, making this also a literary themed monster.]

Meazel CR 4 NE Humanoid This humanoid has sallow skin covered in a painful-looking rash. Its face is long and mean, with a sunken nose and a wild shock of greasy hair. It has clawed fingers, a slight webbing forming between them, and carries a sword and rope.

Meazels are ill-tempered, murderous hermits native to swamps, caves and other remote areas. They are motivated primarily by a combination of greed and spite, waylaying travelers and merchants in order to rob and eat them. Their origins are somewhat obscure, but they have some orc heritage—despite this, meazels and orcs hate each other. Orcs attempt to kill meazels on sight, and meazels for their part usually keep orcs alive long enough to torture. The name given to meazels by other creatures comes from their various diseases. Meazels cultivate diseases the way other species keep pets, and have a variety of disfiguring symptoms without suffering any greater harm. They call themselves “mewlips”.

Meazels are usually solitary ambushers, lurking behind potential prey for hours before striking when they least expect it. They usually attempt to pick off a scout or straggler rather than attack the core of a group, dragging them off with a garrote or simply stabbing them in the vitals. Most meazels keep swords or clubs on hand, but they are just as deadly with their claws. Meazels hate a fair fight, and will typically flee if their potential victim puts up much of a struggle.

Most humanoid creatures of all alignments hate meazels, and the feeling is mutual. Few meazels can stand the company of others of their own kind either, with small family groups being the primary unit of society. These stay together as long as it takes to raise the children, which isn’t long—meazels are dangerous by the age of three and fully grown by six. They are omnivores with a taste for fungi and carrion, and will often let meat rot for a while in order to make it palatable to their tastes. Some meazels are religious, keeping small shrines to Apollyon, Mammon or other powers of disease, death and avarice. They prefer coins and precious metals to other treasures.

Meazels are short for a medium creature, standing between four and five feet tall.

Garrote Exotic Weapon; Price 3 gp; Weight 1 lbs. Damage special A garrote is a length of cord with a handle on each end. A wielder proficient in garrotes may use one to initiate a grapple as a melee touch attack without provoking an attack of opportunity, as long as the creature it is trying to grapple is within 1 size category of itself. A garrote is wound around the neck—a creature that is grappled using a garrote cannot speak or breathe. Once the wielder initiates a pin, it deals 1d6 points of bludgeoning damage a round with the garrote (assuming Medium size); proficient wielders can add their sneak attack dice to this each round, if they have them. A wielder may, as a standard action, tie the garrote together and leave it behind, continuing to do damage—in this case, the DC to escape from the garrote becomes 10+ the CMD of the wielder. Garrotes tied off in this fashion do not continue to deal sneak attack damage.

Meazel CR 4 XP 1,200 NE Medium humanoid (orc) Init +3; Senses darkvision 120 ft., Perception +9 Defense AC 16, touch 14, flat-footed 12 (+3 Dex, +1 dodge, +2 natural) hp 35 (10d8-10) Fort +2, Ref +6, Will +8 Immune disease, nausea and sickness effects; Weakness light sensitivity Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee short sword +10 (1d6/19-20) or 2 claws +10 (1d4 plus disease) or garrote +10 touch (grapple) Special Attacks mobile grappler, sneak attack +2d6 Statistics Str 10, Dex 17, Con 8, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 11 Base Atk +7; CMB +10; CMD 24 Feats Agile Maneuvers, Defensive Combat Training, Dodge, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (garrote), Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +8, Climb +8, Disable Device +10, Perception +6, Sleight of Hand +11, Stealth +11, Survival +9, Swim +9; Racial Modifiers +4 Swim Languages Common, Orc, Undercommon SQ disease carrier, fast stealth, thievery Ecology Environment underground or marshes Organization solitary or family (2-5) Treasure standard (short sword, garrote, other treasure) Special Abilities Disease Carrier (Ex) A meazel is immune to ability damage or other negative effects from disease, but suffers cosmetic damage from the physical symptoms. Different meazels may carry different diseases, which become spread by the meazel’s claws, regardless of the original mode of infection, and use a save DC calculated from the meazel’s Hit Dice instead of their normal DC. Disease (Ex) Red ache—injury; save Fort DC 14; onset 1d3 days; frequency 1/day; effect 1d6 Str damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Fast Stealth (Ex) A meazel can move at full speed while using the Stealth skill without penalty. Mobile Grappler (Ex) When a meazel uses a combat maneuver to move a grappled opponent, it can move up to its full speed. Thievery (Ex) Disable Device, Sleight of Hand and Stealth are always class skills for meazels.

[yanderenightmare]

Hello, I have been looking at your content and I must say that I really like the way you write and I hope you are doing well.I don't know if your applications are open now but I want to give you an idea, how would the yanders react if their beloved has depressive periods and low self-esteem?It may be a bit of an anguish at first but I would like how they would react, use it on purpose or go soft on their beloved.

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

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goodiebag WARNINGS: depression, self-harm, abuse, manipulation, abuse, profanity, amnesia, anxiety, panic-attacks, arson, bipolar disorder, blood, death threats, eating disorder, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mental illness, mind control, paranoia, noncon, dubcon, starvation, suicidal ideation, trauma

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

MELANCHOLIA –

She’s always biting her tongue, the inside of her cheek, her lip. So much so, he doesn’t even know what her lip normally looks like without it being bloated and swollen and red from having her teeth sink into to it. He’s okay with her chosen silence as long as she answers when she’s spoken to, which she does, lacking the will to refuse, knowing it will only cost her valuable energy, energy she needs in case Bakugo decides he wants to rip the breath from her lungs while he hunches over her, his hips snapping into her again and again, ramming at a pace so rough she both dreads it and welcomes it, for on the one hand it’s exhausting and she always wakes up with aches in the morning, yet on the other hand he makes her appreciate breathing which is always a nice reminder when she often times wonders what tranquility would be found in not breathing whatsoever.

He doesn’t want to confront her about it, sensing how she might not enjoy confrontation all that much, and not really wanting the whole ordeal to result in making her cry at the mere sound of his voice. He won’t alter the volume or the roughness of his tone, no matter how many times she cringes at how loud he’s being, but he does try being gentle, at least with his criticism. He showers her in compliments, which is a huge contrast to how he would usually handle fixing things. But, he finds using softer methods benefit him as well, loving the blush that adorns her face each time he does so, his own confidence probably boosting more so than hers.

He does nice things, not really knowing what or which way to help. He doesn’t make her do any chores, ignoring the nagging feeling that keeping her busy would probably help more so than having her sit and look cute all day, but… he’s afraid of admitting it, but… he quite likes taking care of her. He quite likes hugging her throughout the night, feeling her small tremoring sobs against him while stroking her back. He likes comforting her on those same nights where she wakes abruptly from some nightmare, stroking glossy diamond tears away from her cheeks, loving her bloated lips and that cute red wet irritation flushed on her nose and cheeks.

The only times he gets upset with her is when she refuses to eat. He tries so hard to make things she might like, but it’s scarce he sees her taking more than a few bites, if she makes a move to eat at all. He doesn’t want to make her cry, despite it being a constant hobby of hers, he doesn’t want to be the reason to her crying, but… he can’t have her starving. He finds the fear-tactic surprisingly effective on someone who spends most their time fantasizing about death. A few sparks in his palms has her all but quaking, scared half-way into catatonia or even comatose, so much so he has to pull her into his lap and spoon-feed her. Not that he minds that either, he comes to enjoy it quite a lot actually. How her small frame melts so perfectly against his chest, legs swung over his lap, head on his shoulder, remnants of her fear-stricken cries still evident as small spontaneous jolts run through her, being slowly comforted away with the same hand that caused the trouble in the first place.

DABI - TODORKI TOUYA

ANXIETY –

He couldn’t be happier with his little ball of blue wrapped up in soft-tinted crushed dreams with a heart made of honeycombs and dandelion-fluff. Whereas his misfortunate lack of happiness stems from a place of violence, where violence breeds violence, she’s nothing but a tender trauma. Such a soft despair, such a sweet despair, such perfection found in something so devastating. It’s artwork really. How she can cry herself to sleep, trapped in his arms, feeling as though she’s dying, yet wake up the next morning all velvety and soft in his arms, her heart finding comfort in what her mind rejects, what her mind fears.

He tries being a source of comfort for the most part, but teasing and haunting and poking fun at her is such a delicious past-time he cannot simply just refrain from. He’ll be a real villain about it at times. Having her as a complete blubbering pathetic hiccupping mess, poking fun at her crybaby-face as he licks the tears from her cheeks and gorges himself in her panic, his fingers dancing small patterns on her stomach as she wiggles beneath him.

She used to be so scared of him. So skittish and paralyzed, cold-sweating and eyes constantly leaking he had to imagine what her eyes would look like without being rimmed with red. She used to shiver and shake and quake and reel in on  herself, curl up until her limbs ached from how small she was trying to make herself become, backed up into the corner beneath his shadow, his leather-boots looking like the onset of everything horrific as she coward in front of them. But wild untrusting childlike beings such as her is quick in nature to tether themselves to the first or only source of light. And though the transition was slow, her anxiety soon shifted from being directed at him and soon for him instead.

It was too easy, and it benefitted him so undeservingly as well it was cruel. How he simply took all those fears of hers, all those fears for everything residing in the new foreign room she’d been taken captive in, manipulating them into becoming paranoia for everything found outside the bedroom door instead. He went from being the source of her dread, of her panic, of her misery, of her pitter-patter heart and shattering teeth to her savior. Soothing her in her frenzied quakes as she spluttered on sobs containing what hellish monsters and dangers found outside, begging him to be careful, to come back to her, to stay.

She will hug him close throughout the night, hanging almost like a noose around his neck when he needs to leave in the mornings, tracing his scars with a stream of endless worried thoughts blubbering in her groggy voice. And he’ll humor her worry and tame the oncoming panic-attacks by giving her a little light-show of blue flames in his palm, words of his own coming to assure her how nothing will ever happen to him and how he will never let anything ever happen to her, assuring however many times he has the time for.

She’s too cute it’s unfair. Unfair that small creatures like her exist without anything to protect them from hungry wolves like him. And though he was never the type to fantasize about clingy things, he has to admit… coming home to someone who lunches at him in the most secure yet clumsy and desperate embrace, he feels as though that feeling of coming home is all he’ll ever need in the world, that she’s all he’ll ever need.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

INSOMNIA –

It’s nice. He knows it shouldn’t be the word he describes it with, but… that’s what it is. It’s nice. It’s nice to stay up with someone who expels the same type of energy as him, and not to mention the same amount of energy as him, or… lack of thereof. It’s nice living off of fumes together. It’s nice slipping to and from consciousness and how it almost turns into a game of who can survive the longest before collapsing, with the other shortly following, too tired to even bask in their victory.

It’s nice irritating over the same sharp sounds that attack their sensitive ears, not at all like the familiar sound of soft clicks of the controller in their hands. It’s nice communicating almost purely through mellow moans and groans and croaks, always understanding what the other is emitting despite it being but shapeless sounds.

It’s nice finding agreement in how the lights should always stay off, how it’s turned into some religious rule never meant to be crossed. It’s nice annoying over the same crisp bright light of the sun that violate their eyes those times they forget to shut the blinds before passing out after having counted stars and eating in the dead silence of night like nocturnal beings ignoring the light of day as though it were the plague. It’s nice how they can both find comfort in the glow of the moonlight or computer screen, leaching off of the energy like flies.

He’s found kinship in her presence, and despite it merely being himself and her in the darkness of his room, with flying specs of dust decorating the air and their computers the only windows to the world beyond their four walls, he feels as though the whole universe is looking at him when the softness of her glinting, beaming, sparkling eyes set their gaze and lock with his. It’s strange, but he always found angel-bright smiles and supersonic eyes to be too intrusive and annoying and scary to stand before, whereas her sunken dark eyes, ringed with shades of lilac contrasting her otherwise pale porcelain skin, kept almost albino in the darkness of his room… she couldn’t be more perfect.

Come to think of it, it’s perfection. Her in all her sleep-deprived glory, all her drowsy silliness, her sloppy harsh movements, tripping and stumbling with her droopy-eyes, in her soft giggling fits, where she’ll catch her stupidity just a moment too late and roll around on the bed, trying to shrug off Tomura’s teasing judgement as he pokes fun at her idiocy. Giving up on forming complete sentences as she almost always ends up toppling over her own words, settling for whining or sighing as she turns her head to bury it in his chest.

Utter perfection. Never bothering to get dressed, walking about like a little tease in only underwear and Tomura’s ill-fitted hoodie, hair pulled up into a messy-bun too messy, always defeating the purpose of keeping her hair from out of her face. Her unstable movements, disconnected to the ground as though she’s floating. Too grabbable and easily defeated in her weariness when being pulled into his lap, simply humming and moaning in response as he plants soft kisses down her neck, his fingers coming to destroy whatever’s in the way of him and her body.

HITOSHI SHINSO

HYPERSOMNIA –

She sleeps so soundly, like a little couch-kitten. All soft and cute, playing in her dreams. She’ll sleep whole entire days, only opening her eyes in small flutters every now and again and moaning ever so softly once he wakes her, though quickly scrunching her nose and twisting to fall asleep again. Her drowsiness rendering her pride invalid, causing her to pull at him to better comfort herself against his body, whining when he shifts, his warm presence leaving the bed when he needs to go to work. Her little unconscious protest making his heart twist in his chest, tempted to stay in bed with her all day long, yet comforting himself with the fact that he’ll probably come home to find her in the exact same position.

She’s so cute. She’ll curl and stretch, resting anywhere she finds comfortable: in bed, in the sofa, in the armchair, on his chest, his shoulder, his lap. Adorable with her little snores, all knotted up, remnants of her dreams spilling out from her sleep and coming to life in her limbs as she kicks and shakes her head, delving further into the pillow and twisting intricately in about the blanket. Eyelashes fluttering, eyes skittering beneath her puffy eyelids, caught up in whatever hurricane her mind has conjured up.

She seemed unfazed once she woke up in his room for the first time, and even then, she only gave him enough time to explain himself before nodding with heavy eyelids, laying her drowsy head back on the pillow. The situation dawning on her gradually over the first month, and if whether she was startled or angry, he couldn’t tell. If anything, sept for sleepy, he’d say she seemed confused, but alongside the confusion was the look that told him she couldn’t find the energy in herself to think too much about it without her fuzzy head hurting. Settling for eating breakfast with him in the mornings, and even thanking him on those occasion where she would forget the circumstances that led her to live there.

She doesn’t struggle when he pulls her limp body close to his own in the dead of night after he’s done for the day. He’s only mildly concerned, but it’s not his affection that shakes her from her sleep. He’s a selfish person, and he’s not one to hide those ugly aspects of himself. He’s selfish, greedy, controlling. He has to use his quirk on her sometimes… often times. Though she’s cute when she’s sleeping, he wants to do more than just watch her. He wants words, conversation, he wants to know what’s going on in that dark dreary head of hers, he wants to know what eerie things she’s been dreaming about, where she escapes to when her eyes slide close.

What more: he wants those eyes on him, those puffy, sleepy beautiful doe-eyes. He wants her to pay attention as he touches her skin and not simply to moan in response to it, he wants her to hang onto every single moment his skin touches hers. Telling her to focus reaches a long way. Those otherwise sleepy doe-eyes widening in such moon-bright curiosity, slaving at the hands of his quirk. Her otherwise limp and soft body shaking under his overwhelming touch, goosebumps springing to the surface under his tongue, a wicked glint evident in his lilac eyes.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

BIPOLAR –

She’s fragile on most days. Whether that fragility is in the shape of a daisy or a bomb is impossible to say until she either falls apart or blows up. It’s all rather uncertain, sporadic, spontaneous, where he’s given only a few signs where which he can predict what state of mind she’s in and how stable that structure is.

Most things depend on sleep, and upholding a balanced sleep-pattern has become one of the most important things in Keigo’s life after having taken his little darling. But, she manages to slip past his schedules more times than he would like to admit. When she refuses to go to sleep, his mind drifts to all the fun things they can do if they weren’t sleeping, and when she’s sound asleep and drowsing far beyond what time she should have woken up, he can’t find it in himself to wake her, not when he is the reason as to why she was so spent and sore and exhausted from the events and methods he used to make her fall asleep in the first place.

On little sleep one of two things can happen. She can either have the energy of a hummingbird or be tired to the point she almost looks sickly. On her lack-of-sleep-high she’s confident, cocky more so than Keigo, where she’ll test her luck on how far Keigo’s willing to bend his rules when she misbehaves, calling him all types of names, laughing in his face when he snaps and cackling even harder even madder when he decides to punish her, as though it’s all a game to quench her boredom.

With the absence of sleep causing her exhaustion she becomes irritated, seething with boiling rage, red in annoyance, whatever energy she has left focused on making her discomfort known as she scowls at him each time he smiles too loudly, but being too drained to physically act on her frustration or to even make up a snide comment without evoking a headache, left to simply snarl. He thinks it’s cute, where he knows well enough that if he pushes her limits too far she might just break. Break, and therefore let him gather her up into his arms and hush and tut at her to stop crying while he strokes her back, feeling her tremble with unparalleled frustration weighing down on her shoulders.

Then there are the days she sleeps too much. The same options are present here too. She’s either too energetic or too well rested. Either black or white. No grey. But with too much sleep she isn’t ever hostile, but still wild. Wild and enthusiastic and self-destructive and prop-full of ideas and insane in her passion. She’ll be unable to focus on anything, she’ll forget things seconds after they’ve been said or done, but… she’ll laugh and she’ll smile, and it won’t be one of those haughty nasty smiles she gives him when she’s feeling spiteful, but genuine in its playfulness or even bliss.

Then on other days sleeping half the day only results in her being even more drowsed out, yet accompanying her exhaustion isn’t irritation, but soft-tinted melancholia, where all she does is stay wrapped up in her blanket, quiet and still, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she focusses on how hollow her chest is, as though caving in on itself, where she’ll fall all limp and snuggly in Keigo’s embrace, humming appreciatively as he wraps her up in his wings. All the while a treacherous smile of satisfaction on his face.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

DESPOND –

When Izuku chose his darling it was done without compromise, without fault, it was done with perfection. Meaning, he fell for all of her, invested in all of her, determined to preserve all of her. Even her inexplainable unfounded absurd plethora of self-doubt that make her delirious and hopeless with anxiety and guilt. He let himself fall hungrily in love with her little terror-wide heart. He fell viciously in love with how desperate in need of him to come help ground her she was.

It was as though she’s made for him, he would argue. It was as though he’s made for her. Some breeds of people are just too vulnerable to take proper care of themselves. Some people just aren’t meant to take care of themselves. Whereas others are made to help, other people need to help.

Emotions are abstract fundamental tools meant to be used. Lesser minds might look down on his methods, yet Izuku came to understand quite early in life that things such as morals are chains meant to keep you from achieving your goal. He has no quarrels with using and abusing those tools presented to him, where her irrational feelings of doubt, hopelessness and worthlessness are a delicious opportunity to achieve his goal. Besides, her emotions are too easily abused and give such great unshakable responses, and even though he doesn’t want to tamper too much with her instability… they’re just too in-reach for him to ignore, too tempting for him to stay away.

The feeling of responsibility sits like an extra organ inside him, where his toes curl each time he sees her large doe-eyes look at him as though he were the sun, as though her whole life revolves around him. She’s just so dependent on him, so in need of his guidance and advise and praise, where he’s afraid she might just drown in her own guilt if she senses she’s displeased him. She makes sure she wears what he likes, has her hair the way he likes, letting him play with her like putty in his hands if he asks it of her. How can he be expected to not exploit what is so clearly offered?

Besides, he spoils her as well. He returns the favor so to speak, even though he knows she has given herself no choice but to worship him in her mindset of inadequacy. She’s so sweet he nearly feels undeserving, because she’ll blush so preciously when he compliments her, bashful and adorable and too good to be true, he wonders how such a creature can ever feel like less. He adores her, yet that doesn’t stop him from finding such satisfying bliss in the fact that he’s infinitely stronger and faster and not to mention smarter. Whereas she’s gullible and too eager to please, another attributing factor as to why he loves her, despite it is also being the cause of her demise, or maybe even because of it

The truth is she’s lucky that she belongs to him. Lucky that he won’t ever let anything happen to her, no matter if she’s the source of her own harm. She’s lucky to have him to anchor herself to as so to avoid floating away in her hopelessness. This is safer for her. Despite him sticking his bloodstained inky fingers and twisting her heart in his deadlock of a fist, she’s safe, safer than she could or would ever be on her own.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

AMNESIA –

It’s cute. He won’t deny that it’s cute, because it is. It’s adorable and unbelievable and annoying all the same. She’ll forget the rules, she’ll wander too far from her confines, not greeting him at the door, not kissing him on que, leave questions unanswered despite him having told her to always answer him when she’s spoken to, all things he feels he’s made blatantly clear through threats and countless reminders. But, not only will she forget his rules, but basic living necessities, she’ll forget to eat and drink, forget to get dressed, forget where she is.

She’ll say the strangest things sometimes. Mild and mellow passionate thoughts regarding the clouds and stars and moon and gods and how pretty his snake-eyes are, like great big lakes of molten gold. It’s strange but he finds such great comfort in her little philosophical blubbering, her soft voice kissing his ears like gospel. It’s a tender type of relief or resolution found in listening to nonsense as opposed to the serious matters he has to deal with in his position in the underworld, her view of the world somehow painting everything, even the ugly and the dangerous, in beauty.

Sometimes she’ll drift a bit too far away though. She’ll daydream more than sleep, absentminded when he’s speaking to her, unable to focus on him or anything for more than a few minutes at best. All dizzy and fuzzy, as though she’s just woken from some dream or as if she’s always dreaming. Irritation festers in his chest when she doesn’t answer, but as she turns her head, expression all soft and oblivious, his chest caving in at the sight of those doe-eyes, all anger simmering into nothing, rendering his annoyance nonexistent, replaced by a sense of hopeless forgiveness and somehow appreciation.

When it comes to her for once actually remembering what she’s supposed to do she’ll weigh each task as though one wrong decision would cost her life. Greeting him at the door in nothing but underwear, already having failed at picking out an outfit and resorting to wearing the lingerie Kai picked and laid out for her on the bed in the morning. The simple task suddenly becoming a battle where she’ll spend much too much time deciding whether to take his jacket first or give him a kiss or welcome him home. Too many decisions with too faulty statistics and unsure outcomes she ends up merely standing there doing nothing but hold her head in her hands and whimper slightly at all the noise that suddenly crowded her head, tears already threatening to fall as she stands before him, all guilt-ridden and trembling.

He can be patient as long as he knows she isn’t disobeying him on purpose, especially when he sees how guilty and how terribly sorry she is each time she fails on acting out simple tasks such as those he gives her. She’ll cry and apologize for the mere act of breathing on some days where she’s extra fragile, where she seeks nothing but his praise, his comfort, his hand stroking through her hair as she sleeps restlessly in her sobs on his chest, unaware of the mild smile of satisfaction and endearment displayed on his face.

TODOROKI SHOTO

SELF-CONSCIOUS -

She’s always hiding. Like a little mouse, she’s always squeaking and squealing and hiding. Hiding her face, burying it in the pillow when he compliments her gorgeous eyes, begging him to stop, small timid hands pushing ever so slightly at him. Hiding her chest, her nipples, when he admires them, his hands playing with the soft and supple flesh, whimpering as she tries to twist away. Her knees trying their best to wrench shut, to hide and protect what sensitivity find between them from Shoto’s hungry fingers and tongue.

She’s always hiding… but he likes to hunt anyway. If she drapes herself in pitch-black hoodies he’ll gladly rip them off, or scorch them off and expose her delicious artful body. If she refuses to leave the bed he’ll gladly attack her where she’s sleeping. She’s always hiding, but she quickly comes to understand that there will be no hiding from him.

He doesn’t understand why she would ever want to hide divinity, and therefor doesn’t respect the wish. Having made it his mission to expose every little piece of her, licking up long lines of bumpy purple and white scars, sucking and biting at those pointy cherry nipples strutting at the coolness of his breath, kissing those plump lips of hers despite her cringing to cover herself up in thousand layers of clothes, dark clothes, where only the very least of her skin is remaining on display. He won’t have it.

He has to tie her up on most occasions where she’s too difficult and shy to listen and let him play with her beauty. He’ll have to tie her up like a starfish on the bed, limbs spread in each direction, scars running along them, quite like the ones he receives in battle, only precise and matching and purposeful, his hands coming to touch them in reverence, worshipping every little altercation she’s added to her skin, further pushing its ever-changing perfection, watching as she hopelessly struggles to hide herself, yet the both of them knowing how she’s fully his.

He can’t allow her hurting herself anymore though, not with the fear that she one day might slip up and kill herself just a little bit too much, but he’s happy to help her through the tools of fire and ice. Frostbite flowers look even more as though they belong on her body, as well as blotches of burns, his markings, his teeth. He’ll never forget the moan he received on his first indulgence branding her body with his elements, how she purred in gratitude, small blissful squeals and mewls following, further egging him on.

Once she grew more comfortable with his hands and his stare… or rather… once the need for his hands outgrew her discomfort, she became somewhat addicted. And now, she can be wild in her cravings on some days, demanding it of him, threatening him, fighting him. She’ll bite and claw, begging for him to retaliate, longing for him to push her into the bedsheets and teach her what it’s like to feel alive by teasing her with the promise of death.

Without him she’s left to pick at scabs, counting the seconds until his return. She’ll pull at her hair until her scalp is screaming. She’ll ball her fists, creating those blood-red crescent moons in her palms, biting her nails until they bleed and then some. Then bask in relief upon his return.

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[five-rivers]

What Was Bound, What Was Loosed Chapter 3

Written for Dannymay Day 6: Core.

.

Ellie took to spending her days in the palace library.

Danny thought he was trapped. Believed he was trapped. So did everyone else. But Ellie didn’t believe it. All cages had keys. Danny had opened hers. It was only right that she return the favor.

(Of course, she wasn’t happy about being stuck herself. There were still things she wanted to see on Earth. She missed the stars.)

The books were old and new. Some were in English, others were in languages she couldn’t even begin to recognize. Most of them had nothing to do with what she was looking for. Like in any library, they were on a wide variety of subjects, all spread out.

Still, she searched. The stack of tomes that had to do with ghostly kingship and the laws of the Infinite Realms grew progressively larger. Occasionally, one of the shades would attempt to put the books back, but they were easily dissuaded, having no will of their own.

She was making progress. Not a lot, but some. Enough to keep her going.

.

Vlad knew when to quit.

Oh, maybe it didn’t seem like it, he was easily as obsessive as any ghost, but he did. Sometimes, a plan just wasn’t feasible, and he had to cut his losses.

Cutting his losses, in this case, meant getting incredibly drunk on ghost wine. Fright Knight didn’t approve, but who cared what he thought? Fright Knight was part of the reason he was in this situation in the first place!

If he had just been warned this would happen, he’d have been able to make arrangements, to find some way to keep his portal open, or to stay in the human world, where his life was.

But no. They were all trapped here. No way out.

When hundreds of ghosts all said the same thing, Vlad was inclined to believe them. Danielle, as motivated as she was, was simply experiencing denial. Or, perhaps, bargaining. He had to admit he was never exactly clear on the stages of grief.

Then, there was Daniel, who seemed to be firmly trapped in the ‘depression’ stage, more of a ghost than Vlad had ever seen him as. He lingered in corners, at the edge of Vlad’s vision, quiet, sad, always flanked by Fright Knight and that other ghost, the one with the clocks.

There were parts of him, his Obsession reasserting itself, that yearned to reach out to Danny, but… He didn’t even know how to begin.

.

Danny felt like a pale, wandering shadow of himself.

Most of the time, he slept, exhausted by the demands the Zone made on him and the continuing changes he was undergoing. The expanding circle of vitality, of rejuvenation, of reconstruction and growth, that so many ghosts were celebrating had to draw energy from somewhere, after all, and even though Danny was absorbing just as much as he was expending, that process made him drowsy in and of itself.

Pain, too, plagued him. His missing eye ached, and sometimes it seemed as if the crown was burrowing into his skull, not merely resting on it. His hand hurt from all his attempts to take off the ring.

He could hardly care for himself in even the most basic of ways. Clockwork often had to remind him, or help him, and he was always so excruciatingly gentle.

Then Vlad and Ellie came.

Their arrival was a relief. Ellie was a friend, was family, and hadn’t been complicit in his betrayal and binding. Vlad had been an enemy, and not even an honest one at that, but essentially everything they’d been at odds over was moot, but he was familiar.

Despite the relief, despite his desire to connect with people who hadn’t hurt him, at least not as badly as everyone else, he hung back. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

So, he lurked and lingered. When Ellie went to the library, when Vlad moped and bothered the shades that ordered the kitchen, he followed, he watched.

Clockwork and Fright Knight, of course, followed and watched him in turn.

At least, this is what happened when he was awake and aware enough to do anything. Danny was under the impression that being awake and independently mobile at all this soon after being… coronated… was unusual, perhaps even unnerving. Normally, he’d be curious, excited about new abilities and what they might mean. Maybe he’d even throw around a quip or two about how awesome he was but…

It wasn’t the time, and he didn’t have the willpower to reach for even that dubious coping mechanism.

In the too-numerous times when Danny was both awake and not well enough to follow Ellie and Vlad around, he liked to sit in the garden. It was almost peaceful there, by the fountain, although the plants had a distressing tendency to reflect his every change in mood.

Today was one of those days. He was too dizzy and lightheaded to drift after Vlad or Ellie, even if neither of them moved very much, but he didn’t want to stay in the bedroom, or, worse, the throne room. His core seemed to pulse, sluggish and painful in his chest. Or perhaps that was his heart. He couldn’t really tell with this mixed-up form. It could even be both.

Another slow wave of transformation swept out from him, making his extremities tingle. He watched, tiredly, as it briefly interacted with the walls of the palace and the scattered shades before moving on. The shades… another aspect of all this that Danny wasn’t comfortable with, but couldn’t bring himself to learn more about. They were sustained through his power, but what were they? Extensions of his will? Aspects of his personality? Constructs generated by the palace? By the Ghost Zone itself? He didn’t know.

As much as he should try to learn, he couldn’t help but think of them as yet another imposition, another burden he was being forced to bear.

This wasn’t a healthy mindset. Jazz would tell him as much. Jazz wasn’t here.

“Danny!”

He looked up, his one eye already searching for Ellie. Fright Knight stepped forward, as if to protect him, but Danny snarled at him, annoyed. He wasn’t going to let him get in between him and one of the few people he could currently stand. Clockwork stayed back, passive, but he looked… worried. Uneasy. As if anticipating a disaster.

“Danny!” exclaimed Ellie again, bursting from a bush, a thick book raised above her head. “I found it!”

“Found what?” asked Danny, leaning forward slightly as Ellie joined him sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“A way out!” She opened the book and started flipping through it, obviously looking for a specific entry.

Both Clockwork and Fright Knight looked extremely tense, now. They probably didn’t want him to find this, didn’t want him to leave. Would they try to stop him?

He hunched his shoulders. He might not be well, but he could fight and make it hurt.

“Here!” said Ellie, triumphantly. “Look at this.” She tapped a picture of a bright, spherical object.

“The core of the Infinite Realms?” asked Danny, reading the legend of the picture.

“Uh huh. Apparently, it’s what determines what the Ghost Zone is like as a whole and controls the rules and laws and stuff. Like, even when it comes to what ghosts act like, and what they can physically do, or how the Ghost Zone’s physics behave. But the important part is that you can go talk to it and petition it and stuff, and sometimes it’ll listen. I bet we can get it to listen to you and make it so that the Ghost Zone doesn’t need a king anymore.”

Danny felt a flutter of hope. The book was old from what he could see, and, ignoring Ellie’s paraphrasing, the language was fantastical and couched in metaphor, but still if there was a possibility…

Near their feet, small, bright flowers began to bloom, each no larger than the head of a pin.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, in a careful, soft tone. It wasn’t pity, not quite, but it was the verbal equivalent of being handled with kid gloves. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then what is it like?” asked Danny, hunching his shoulders and leaning protectively over Ellie.

“What do you think the King of the Infinite Realms is?” asked Clockwork.

Danny shrugged. Clockwork gave him a small, pained smile.

“The King of Ghosts and the core of the Ghost Zone,” said Clockwork, “they’re the same.”

Danny shook his head, unwilling to let this scrap of hope slip through his fingers so easily.

“Please, Daniel,” said Clockwork. “Why do you think it was so vital that you be crowned? The Realms cannot exist without their core.”

It made sense. A horrible, horrible sense.

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Ellie. “The core’s supposed to be the basis the whole Zone is built on. That can’t just be one person.”

“The library has some books on the subject,” said Clockwork. “But you can see how Daniel is changing things.”

Danny felt his hope collapse and doubled over, hands on his head, face almost touching his legs. A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it. All those people, everywhere, his responsibility, his… Not just the people, everything. Everywhere. Not just his responsibility, but relying on him, modeled on him, dependent on him, centered on him.

He wasn’t just the Ghost Zone’s ruler, nominal or not, he was its heart.

“Danny?” asked Ellie. He looked up.

There were blast lines in the ground, radiating away from him. The fountain was cracked and leaking water. Fright Knight had, evidently, grabbed Ellie and leaped away, into the air.

Clockwork hadn’t left, still leaning towards Danny. There was a jagged, dripping slice across his shoulder. Danny gasped, reaching towards him.

“It’s alright,” said Clockwork. “It’s alright.”

“I can’t be,” said Danny. “I can’t be. I’m—I can’t be part of the Ghost Zone. Not—Not like that. That’s not—I can’t be what the Ghost Zone is built on, it doesn’t make sense, I…”

“It’s alright,” repeated Clockwork. “Would you like to go inside? You may feel better if you eat something.”

“Don’t want to bother Vlad,” mumbled Danny. Didn’t want another person to see him crumbling like this.

“We can send something up to your room,” said Clockwork.

He did feel tired. The fountain was repairing itself behind and underneath him. He groaned as the ground beneath him pulled together as well.

“I don’t want to be the core of the Ghost Zone,” he said, knowing that what he wanted was not and never had been a consideration. “I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to be in charge of anything.” He grabbed the edges of Clockwork’s robe, ignoring the moisture despite the pang of guilt it brought him. “I want to go home. And I…” His words failed as he reached for Clockwork’s injury. “I don’t want to do this.”

“This is nothing, Daniel,” putting a gloved hand over the wound. “I have had far worse.”

It started to rain. Great, heavy droplets of water tainted with just enough ectoplasm to glow.

It was one way to hide tears, he supposed.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Day 7: Free Day / AUs - Lies

To her left was Jade, and to her right was Crowley. Something was definitely wrong with this picture.

Awkward “family” dinner time~

jnjadaafiabasd I was not built to do timed prompts... Everything felt rushed or not fully proofread, but I tried my best with what little time I had! 🎉 This last week was a bit of a struggle, but I’m proud of myself for pulling through in the end!

A flurry of footsteps reverberated through the Crowley household. Raven hurtled down a stairwell and practically threw herself at the front door, flinging it open. Beyond the door, a masked man and his suitcases awaited.

“Uncle!! You’re back!!” she cried breathily—tired from the dash from the attic to the front porch.

“Hohoh.” Crowley lowered the golden key in his hand. “You’ve beaten me to the punch, it seems.”

“It helps when I’ve got a big window to spy from.” Raven grimaced as talons wove themselves into her hair and raked along her scalp. Her head was left a mess, hair sticking up at odd angles. “How was your trip?”

“There will be plenty of time for stories—you do so love those, don’t you? Just give me a moment to get settled back and have a bite first, little black bird.”

“Okay!” Raven chirped. She eagerly reached for a suitcase. “Here, I’ll he—”

“Please, allow me.”

Her fingers met only air, for the suitcase was snatched up before she could make contact. The other was claimed just as quickly, ending up in the hands of a slimy, smiling eel.

“... Jade Leech-kun.”

“Headmaster.” Jade lowered his head in mock deference. “It is a pleasure to have you back with us. I do hope your conference fared well.”

Crowley’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “You’ll not hear a single peep from me!”

“My, my. You’ve entrusted me with handling your home and your niece in your absence, but not with casual conversation? Truly, I am hurt.”

(Raven shot Jade a warning look, but it went ignored.)

“Leave my bags, and leave us be. Your services are no longer required,” the headmaster crowed. He dug into his pockets and produced a (wrinkled) checkbook and gold-plated fountain pen. “Name your price.”

“I believe that is a value that would be best negotiated with Azul—but worry not, I am not personally interested in your madol.”

... That’s obviously a sketchy thing to say, especially for Octavinelle. They always collect what they’re owed, Raven noted. What does he have up his sleeve now?

Jade’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and a sad smile made its way onto his face. “It is a shame, though... to be chased out before I was able to share my cooking with our esteemed headmaster. It brings a tear to my eye.”

Crowley’s ears perked up—while Raven’s stomach sank.

“Cooking, you say?”

“U-Uncle, don’t fall for it...! He’s baiting you!!” Raven hissed, tugging harshly on his cape.

“I had plans to prepare an extravagant feast, too,” Jade continued, “to welcome you home. A hearty wild game stew, garnished with garden herbs. Fresh baked bread, with a thick crust, perfect for mopping up excess stew. Braised duck in a bright citrus sauce, so succulent and tender that the meat falls off at the bone. Mint gelée on the side—”

“I’m listening...” Crowley’s beady eyes narrowed with vague suspicion. “And just how much would this hypothetical feast cost me?”

“Don’t listen to him, Uncle!!”

“Fufu. There is no need to concern yourself with such trivial matters. Consider it a gift from myself to you.”

“UNCLE!!” Raven screeched—but her frantic calls no longer reached him.

The headmaster was far gone, lured to the water’s edge by a siren’s song. Plastering a wide grin on his face, Crowley spread his arms.

“Jade Leech-kun, why don’t you join us for dinner?”

Raven slowly lowered her face into her hands.

To her left was Jade, and to her right was Crowley. Something was definitely wrong with this picture.

Raven glared into her platter of food, refusing to look at either of them. She poked at a slab of meat with her fork, watching the shine of fat dance. Did that glisten belong to a tasteless poison, or to a savory glaze?

Well, the other meals he prepared were safe. This should be fine too... right? Raven carefully inserted a corner into her mouth and tore off a chunk.

Crowley let out a delighted laugh from his seat. “Delicious! Simply delicious!! You’ve outdone yourself with this meal.”

“I am glad to hear that you enjoy it, headmaster.” Jade was handling his silverware a little too deftly for Raven’s liking, driving a knife into his steak with the skill and precision of a predator digging its teeth into vital arteries. And still, that polite smile remained.

She stared—and it did not go unnoticed.

While the headmaster continued to gush, Jade lifted his eyes to meet Raven’s. His smile turned decidedly less kind for a few moments, taunting her. How easily he had infiltrated the home and gotten her guardian wrapped around his finger. It was maddening.

“Miss Raven, you haven’t touched your food,” Jade pointed out.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I am merely advising that you look after your own health and wellbeing,” Jade insisted. “And to think you were so eager to consume my cooking when it was just the two of us...”

“Sh-Shut up...!! I... I can’t help that I’m not used to unwanted guests at the table!”

“Now, now, Raven-kun!” Crowley waved his fork at his niece. “Jade Leech-kun has provided a number of useful services during my absence. We should be more grateful to to have such a helpful young man with us!”

“Do I need to remind you that this same ‘helpful’ young man also ‘helped’ Azul enslave over 200 students?”

“That was then, this is now!”

... You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Yes, I do believe the headmaster is correct. Let us leave the past in the past.”

“As soon as you leave, I’ll gladly purge the events of last week from my mind.” Raven turned to Crowley. “Uncle! I’m no longer a child. The next time you need to leave, you needn’t call for a babysitter—I can take care of myself!”

“Hmm...” The headmaster glanced helplessly between his half-eaten dinner and his niece’s pleasing eyes. “We shall see what comes, given the circumstances.”

Raven sighed—still not fully satisfied with the answer, but unable to wean anything better out of him.

She jabbed her fork into a cherry tomato and chomped down hard on it. Her fangs pierced the red skin, sending some juice squirting onto her cheek. Raven wiped at it with a napkin, then continued to angrily munch on the tomato to vent her frustration.

The clinking of silverware filled the dining room. The air, stiff as stale bread. Crowley coughed—attempting to alleviate the tense atmosphere, but to little success.

“So,” the headmaster began, “did anything interesting happen while I was at the conference?”

“... We argued a lot,” Raven replied flatly. She tactfully left out several details, knowing that she would turn as red as the cherry tomato if she elaborated.

“I did learn quite a few interesting facts during my stay.”

Crowley glanced up from his plate, arching an eyebrow at the eel. “Such as...?”

“Oh, a great many things. For example, how a glittering object catches Miss Raven’s eye, the messiness of her quarters, her midnight musings, the odd manner in which she sleeps...”

Crowley (who had been peacefully inhaling his dinner up until that point) almost choked on a piece of bread. “E-EXCUSE ME?! I don’t recall granting you permission to enter the attic—”

“Wait, you didn’t?” Raven’s brows furrowed. “Then why...”

... Oh.

Another lie.

All along, it had been a lie.

Crowley’s panic, Raven’s confusion—neither seemed to faze Jade. He simply smiled, as collected as ever. Like he had planned this all along, she realized.

“I’m afraid that Miss Raven allowed me in of her own accord. Fufu. I am pleased that she has grown to trust my presence within her private quarters.”

“Is this true, Raven-kun?!”

“Er...” She shrunk back into her seat, wishing she could vanish into her feathered shawl. “I-It was an honest mistake... I didn’t mean to...”

“You know better than that, young lady!!” Crowley chided. “How many times must I warn you to keep shady characters out of your room?!”

“But Jade said--”

“Headmaster, you cannot blame her entirely,” the eel cut in smoothly. “Part of the fault lies with me, as well.”

He’s... confessing? That’s weird.

“I had to deliver her meal, since she refused to eat at the dining room table. Once I saw the state that the attic was in, I sought to return in the subsequent days to assist with cleaning it up. There were also times when I came to check in on Miss Raven, as she has a habit of staying up late into the night. They were all measures I took to ensure her health and comfort, at the cost of breaking a rule--and for that, I must apologize.”

“Oh?” Crowley rested his chin in a taloned hand. “Rule breaking aside, I must commend you for taking action. Putting others’ wellbeing above your own... Perhaps I initially misjudged your character, Jade Leech-kun!”

“I live to serve.”

“How very admirable of you! Yes, yes,” Crowley nodded enthusiastically, “I can rely on such a responsible youth to look after you in the future, Raven-kun!”

“H-Huh? No, no!! He’s definitely still every bit as shady as you thought he was!!” she protested, leaping to her feet and thrusting an accusing finger at Jade. “He’s just lying again...!! He always lies!!”

“Oya, Miss Raven... It’s not healthy for you to become so worked up.” Jade hid his mouth behind his hand--no doubt that his teeth would otherwise be on full display in a cruel grin. “Here, have some more mashed potatoes--I’ve infused them with garlic. This should help temper your blood pressure.”

“I don’t want your stupid mashed potatoes...!!”

Oblivious to the tension in the room, Crowley lifted his glass up and laughed. “Hohoh! It’s nice to see Raven-kun socializing with her peers.”

[ayuuria]

Inuyasha Translation: Animage Magazine February 2010 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

This was a translation request from @officialinuyasha. This article was published back when “Inuyasha the Final Act” was still airing.

Proof of the Successor

Tenseiga was a sword that was cut off from Tessaiga along with Meidōzangetsuha. Then is Inuyasha worthy of wielding the Tessaiga? Sesshōmaru has finally gone into serious mode. The unprecedented brother showdown is about to begin!

Sesshōmaru in “Inuyasha The Final Act” gave off the impression that he developed a compassionate heart in comparison to before. Not only did he have a soft gaze when he attended Kagura’s death but he also put himself at risk to save Rin who fell into the underworld.

However, on the one hand, he continued to hold a heart that stoically yearned for insatiable power. The one offensive technique that Tenseiga, “The sword of healing”, obtained: “Meidōzangetsuha”. At first, it could only open a small meidō in the shape of a crescent moon, but after several ordeals, it matures to the point that it can open a gigantic meidō close to the shape of a circle. All of this came about from Sesshōmaru’s ability.

However, no matter how much of a powerful sword Tenseiga becomes, Sesshōmaru was unable to throw away his obsession with Tessaiga. It was then that he learned through his battle with Shishinki that Tenseiga was a sword that was cut off from Tessaiga. Did his father give him Tessaiga’s unneeded aspect? Sesshōmaru, whose pride has been hurt, purposely goes along with Naraku’s trap.

Inuyasha vs Sesshōmaru. The not so long-ago clash between the brothers over Tessaiga is about to begin. Who is the rightful successor!?

Brothers with the Same Father

A full-fledged demon and half-demon but the two resemble each other somehow.

While they both have the same father, there’s a big difference in ability and thought process towards humans between Sesshōmaru, a full-fledged demon, and Inuyasha, a half-demon with a human mother. Inuyasha previously loved Kikyō and desperately protects Kagome. Sesshōmaru on the other hand, had no interest in humans. However, Rin’s existence has brought about change within his heart. Just as his mother said, did Sesshōmaru perhaps inherit his attachment to humans from his father?

A Strengthened Tessaiga

From numerous past battles, Tessaiga has become the most powerful weapon.

Tessaiga was originally a fang of Inuyasha’s greater demon father. Tōtōsai forged it into a sword and it became Inuyasha’s weapon. Afterwards, Inuyasha mastered various techniques such as the Wind Scar, Backlash Wave, and Adamant Barrage. In addition, Tessaiga has the ability to transform itself as well as becoming the barrier breaking red Tessaiga and the demon vortex cutting dragon-scaled Tessaiga. Furthermore, from the clash with Sesshōmaru, Tessaiga will climb to new heights.

Tessaiga and Tenseiga

The powerful weapon Tessaiga and the dead reviving Tenseiga

Inuyasha’s father entrusted him with Tessaiga. Meanwhile, Sesshōmaru was entrusted with “Tenseiga”, a sword that can revive the dead. Sesshōmaru exasperates dissatisfaction with Tenseiga as it cannot be used in battle. However, from obtaining Meidōzangetsuha, Tenseiga has become a powerful weapon. Sesshōmaru raised Tensaiga from only being able to open a small, crescent moon shaped meidō at the beginning, to being able to open a gigantic meidō in the shape of a near circle. However…

The Truth Behind Meidōzangetsuha

In order to strengthen Tessiaga, father used Sesshōmaru and Tenseiga?

Meidōzangetsuha was technique that their father stole from Shishinki. According to Shishinki, their father did not know what to do with Meidōzangetsuha and thus had Tenseiga created in order to cast it off of Tessaiga. Perhaps their father entrusted Sesshōmaru with Tenseiga in order to complete Meidōzangetsuha which a half-demon like Inuyasha couldn’t handle and then have (the technique) entrusted to Inuyasha someday? This gave birth to doubt within Sesshōmaru.

Naraku’s Trap

While realizing it is a trap set up by Naraku, Sesshōmaru purposely goes along with it.

Through Shishinki’s words, Sesshōmaru’s attachment to Tessaiga strengthened. There was no way Naraku would overlook the movement in his heart. The mirror fragment that Kanna (who died) left behind. While it was only a small piece, it did not lose the ability to take and duplicate an enemy’s technique. Sesshōmaru, who receives the fragment from Byakuya of the Mirage, puts it on Tenseiga while knowing it’s one of Naraku’s traps and challenges Inuyasha to a battle.

The Role of Sesshōmaru, Narita Ken

— Episode 15 “The Rightful Successor” depicts a fierce battle with Inuyasha. What were your thoughts when you enacted (that episode)?

Narita: I felt very tense through the whole thing and it was as though the content was reminding me of the movie. (translator’s note: He’s referring to the 3rd Inuyasha movie, Swords of the Honorable Ruler)

— Sesshōmaru says to Inuyasha “Show me Inuyasha. Proof that you are Tessaiga’s successor and not I.” and commences battle with him. Narita-san, how do you comprehend his feelings towards his father regarding Tenseiga and his anger towards Inuyasha?

Narita: I believe all of it is hatred. Only one with power should have a perfect sword. I think that natural thought is the sole source of his anger towards Inuyasha.

— In episode 15, do you think Sesshōmaru was truly trying to kill Inuyasha? Or was he merely testing him?

Narita: I believe it was both. Those without power die. There is no love or sympathy in that.

— In a previous conversation with Yamaguchi-san, he stated that Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru are jealous of each other. Having acted in “The Final Act” up to the midway point, how do you once again perceive Sesshōmaru’s relationship to Inuyasha?

Narita: I think there was jealousy at the beginning. However now, it’s not something that petty but rather, who’s stronger.  I think it’s this single point.

— Sesshōmaru relinquishes Meidōzangetsuha. What do you think this will bring about for him?

Narita: Growth. More strength.

— I would like to ask regarding the two in Sesshōmaru’s team. What sort of feelings do you think Sesshōmaru has for Rin?

Narita: A part within his heart. Like a nostalgic part that he lacks.

— In episode 9, Sesshōmaru saved Rin who had fallen into the underworld. In that episode, which scene left an impression on you?

Narita: The last scene where Sesshōmaru says, “You’re alright now”

— In addition, in episode 9, Sesshōmaru’s mother appears. What is your impression of her? What do you think mother and son have in common and what in way are they different?

Narita: That coldness. Indifference. She also had a comical aspect which I did not expect.

— Regarding the fussy Jaken, what do you think is the reason Sesshōmaru moves with him despite everything?

Narita: I think it’s because it can’t be helped. Like someday he might be useful for something.

— Jaken has a lot of funny lines. If there is a line that left a lasting impression on you, please tell us.

Narita: There’s so many that I can’t say just one.

— The amount of people that Sesshōmaru has connections with is gradually increasing. What sort of growth do you think he will achieve going foward?

Narita: I wish that Sesshōmaru himself never changes. I want him to maintain his sublime aloofness.

— In addition to giving the fans a message, please tell us how you will prepare to act Sesshōmaru in the second half of the series.

Narita: Thank you for always supporting me. In my mind, he has not changed. Any sort of love or kindness has nothing to do with his solitary world. Even if he becomes able to understand the hearts of humans, his heart will never be like the others. Please continue to watch over us.

Our Beloved Lord Sesshōmaru!?

From the point of view of Inuyasha’s party, Sesshōmaru is unsociable and completely does his own thing. But to Jaken and Rin, his existence is precious. Here we have a special feature regarding the two’s “love” for Lord Sesshōmaru!

The very powerful Lord Sesshōmaru. Why someone like him who has lived his life without relying on anyone, purposely moving together with Jaken and Rin? If you were to say it, I think it’s because the two of them are very cute. At first glance, Jaken is a middle-aged small demon with an underhanded personality that makes unnecessary comments and lies. However, you truly cannot hate that sense of restlessness. Rin, on the other hand, is a genuinely cute girl. Sesshōmaru listens to their arguments without the slightest change of expression but in reality, could he perhaps be biting down that amusement in his heart?

Finally, the best part about the two of them is their overflowing “love” for Lord Sesshōmaru. Sesshōmaru is of the strongest class within the “Inuyasha” world but when you see the two of them getting close to him, you can’t help but think the 3 of them are having fun in spite of it all.

Character Bios

Sesshōmaru As an aloof existence, Sesshōmaru has lived his life as he pleases. However, the existence of Tessaiga and Tensaiga leads his heart astray. And now to the brother’s showdown!

Jaken A small demon who serves as Sesshōmaru’s servant. While he makes blatant lies, he’s an existence that one can’t hate. He does not intend to lose to anyone when it comes to loyalty to Lord Sesshōmaru.

Rin A girl who lost her life after being attacked by man-eating wolves but was revived by Sesshōmaru’s “Healing Tenseiga”. Innocent and cheerful, she bares a carefree personality. Her special trait is her severe jabs at Jaken’s remarks.

The One in Charge of Reactions

The extremely cool Sesshōmaru does not break his facial expression easily, no matter what kind of enemy appears or what the enemy says to him. It is there that Jaken fulfills that important role. It is when Jaken is surprised and talks back to the enemy that the (conversational) exchange between Sesshōmaru’s party and the enemy begins to proceed. In other words, Jaken is in charge of reactions within Sesshōmaru’s party. There are times where he unintentionally goes overboard though…

The Life That Was Saved Twice

In episode 9, Rin is kidnapped and taken into the underworld. Sesshōmaru struggles hard to save Rin but Tenseiga can only revive a person once. Without the aid of Sesshōmaru’s mother, Rin would have remained dead. Sesshōmaru looks at Rin softly as she slowly opens her eyes. It was a scene that made you wonder what Sesshōmaru would do when Rin grows up.

You See, the Greatest Combination Within “Inuyasha” is the Silliness and Jabs of Jaken x Rin.

Jaken makes exaggerated and underhanded remarks and Rin jabs at them. There are some periodic gags that are sharp within “Inuyasha the Final Act” but the combination of these two is superb. For example, in episode 3

Jaken “Lord Sesshōmaru’s heart is perfect!”

Rin “He’s strong and kind~”

Jaken *teary eyed* “I don’t know anything about kindness.”

After that, there’s episode 14 that made the voice actor for Jaken, Chō-san, roar with laughter.

Jaken “I’m included with the small people?”

Rin “Master Jaken, you’re small in a lot of ways. Your height, heart, and personality.”

I wonder which dialogue between Jaken x Rin made all of you laugh the most?

The Role of Jaken, Chō

— Episode 15 “The Rightful Successor” depicts a fierce battle between Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru. How was the recording?

Chō: It was terrific. Especially Inuyasha’s yelling as there was a high amount of enthusiasm.

— Jaken appears to be the spokesperson for Sesshōmaru’s emotions (sometimes he gets it wrong though). What sort of feelings do you think he has towards Sesshōmaru?

Chō: Love itself. There’s something there that’s not just a master-servant relationship.

— Jaken has many humorous lines but having acted up to episode 15, which scene left an impression on you?

Chō: I love his reaction when Rin told him “Master Jaken, your personality and heart are small”

— There is silliness and jabs with Rin and they make a good combo. What is your impression of the dialogues with Noto-san? What is the fun part about acting?

Chō: Rin makes some pretty sadistic jabs. Jaken, who’s a masochist, is surprisingly happy with them.

— Jaken sometimes makes obvious lies. It is a refreshing level of falsehood but why does he do that?

Chō: He’s childish.

— What do you think is Jaken’s happiness?

Chō: Lord Sesshōmaru’s happiness.

— In addition to giving the fans a message, please tell us how you will prepare to act Jaken in the second half of the series.

Chō: I will play around while focusing!

The Role of Rin, Noto Mamiko

— Episode 15 “The Rightful Successor” depicts a fierce battle between Inuyasha and Sesshōmaru. How was the recording?

Noto: It had quite a tense feeling, and it pulled me deeper into the story.

— In episode 9, Rin fell into the underworld and was saved by Sesshōmaru. How did you feel seeing Sesshōmaru doing his utmost at the time?

Noto: I once again felt that Rin was truly precious to Sesshōmaru.

— Among the Rin scenes up to episode 15, which one left an impression on you?

Noto: I like the scene in episode 9 where after she’s saved by Sesshōmaru and opens her eyes, she says “Lord Sesshōmaru……” with a feeling of relief. There are a lot of other impressionable scenes so it’s hard to narrow it down (laughs).

— There is silliness and jabs with Jaken and they make a good combo. What is your impression of the dialogues with Chō-san? What is the fun part about acting?

Noto: Chō-san’s Jaken is the best!! Just the fact that I can dialogue with him makes me happy! Rin is quite harsh so acting that part is fun (laughs).

— What sort of feelings do you think Rin has for Sesshōmaru? Also, if Rin becomes an adult as is, how do you think those feelings will change?

Noto: It might be a little different from family, but I think she considers him as someone who is irreplaceably precious. When she becomes an adult…… I can’t really imagine it (laughs). It would be wonderful if she comes to (romantically) love him (laughs). However, I have a feeling (her feelings) won’t change. With Rin as she is now.

— What do you think is Rin’s happiness?

Noto: I think it’s being together with Sesshōmaru and Jaken.

— In addition to giving the fans a message, please tell us how you will prepare to act Rin in the second half of the series.

Noto: “Inuyasha the Final Act” is a truly passionate drama!!!! I plan to act with everything I’ve got alongside everyone until the end so please treat me well!!

[hongism]

chaser - chapter 1

pairing: vampire!seonghwa x human!wooyoung x ??? synopsis: wooyoung is no stranger to one-night stands, but something about this one leaves a lasting impression on him and his body that he can’t ignore. seonghwa, on the other hand, considers himself smart enough to avoid making stupid decisions after living for so long, but alas, he must not be as smart as he thinks himself to be. rating: M/18+ word count: 6.0k warnings: language, violence, fighting, injuries, blood, explicit smut a/n: hi hello yes welcome to swm’s new and mUCH improved version chaser (i’m howling for you)!! this first chapter has some similarities to the original and is ULTRA heavy on the smut so pls be aware that this first chapter has VERY little plot and LOTS of smut

masterlist

Between the steady thrum of music in his ears and the sensation of his heart beating erratically in his chest, Wooyoung cannot sit still to save his life. He isn’t sure how his friend managed to drag him out to one of these places — a club (somewhere he normally wouldn’t be caught dead near usually) and a vampire one at that. Despite the never-ending insistence that this would be a pleasant experience for them both, Wooyoung still finds himself wondering as his gaze slips over vampire after vampire with glowing golden eyes. He is a bit desperate to get laid, yes, but that is neither here nor there, and he didn’t think he would have to find someone who wanted to suck every ounce of blood out of his system to sleep with someone. Wooyoung could not admit such a thing to San at the time (that would be far too embarrassing), so he simply agreed to come and sit in a back booth where he could properly hide himself from the crowds.

Dancing is one of Wooyoung’s skills, yes, but he cannot muster the courage to embarrass himself in front of a crowd of vampires. And by ‘crowd’ he really only means the one tall, dark, and fucking handsome vampire standing across from the booth Wooyoung finds himself perched in at the moment.

Curse him for being weak because this man is by far the hottest… creature… Wooyoung has ever laid his eyes on, so much so that he cannot even try to be discreet about the way he stares the vampire up and down like he’s the last slice of a cake at a birthday cake. There is a gross irony to that too — the vampire should be the one eyeing Wooyoung like he’s a meal, but Wooyoung is far too enamored with taking in every inch of deep purple velvet over the vampire’s body to think about specifics right now.

Although he wishes to blame it on alcohol, Wooyoung knows that he has not touched the glass on the table in the past hour he’s been at the club, so there is not nearly enough alcohol in his system to cloud his judgment. The staring must have tipped the scales, however, because said hottest creature on the face of the Earth is now making his way over to Wooyoung’s table in long strides. Wooyoung fumbles to grab for his drink and down some of the liquid — a desperate attempt to busy himself and save face in case the vampire is bothered by the way Wooyoung has been eye-fucking him for the better part of the hour.

People move out of the vampire’s way as he walks, such a domineering presence in the club that Wooyoung feels his knees trembling under the table a bit just from the sight of him. Even guzzling the alcohol before him does nothing to quell the sudden burst of nerves in Wooyoung’s system, and the black-haired vampire slides into the booth across from him with a barely-there smile.

“It’s not good to be alone in a club, let alone a vampire one,” he says, tone so low that Wooyoung has to strain to hear the statement. That steady and persistent thrum of bass and electronic music rumbles on in the background. Wooyoung feels like he is swimming in it. It nearly drowns the vampire out, but he moves as Wooyoung leans forward to catch the words. Suddenly their faces are much closer, mere inches between them. Wooyoung inhales sharply. He swallows hard around nothing, and his Adam’s Apple bobs with the movement. The vampire’s gaze traces down the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed neck, tongue teasing the corner of his lips with little purpose.

“I’m… not alone,” Wooyoung responds with some struggle, thinking back to where San might be, disappeared into the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

“Not anymore, no.” The man smirks a bit around the words, and one corner of his lips drags upwards. The action is so stupidly simple, yet it has Wooyoung clenching his thighs together harshly and trying to press the arousal in his gut down. “My name is Seonghwa, and you are?”

“I-I, um, Jung Wo-Wooyoung. No, uh, just Wooyoung.”

“Fitting and beautiful. A strong name too… although I can’t say I’m too surprised.” The vampire — Seonghwa, as he called himself — lets his head fall to the side.

“Are you always so charming with people you just meet?” Wooyoung inquires, unable to hold his gaze on the man any longer thanks to the influx of nerves rushing through his body.

“Only the ones that catch my eye.”

“I’m sure that gets everyone crawling to your bed,” Wooyoung scoffs as he lets his hand toy mindlessly at the edge of his glass. The words do have an embarrassing effect on him, of course they do, but Wooyoung doesn’t want to seem so desperate and needy quite yet. Seonghwa returns the smile with one of his own, then releases a small, mirthful chuckles. The sound rumbles through Wooyoung’s system with a shocking effect, and the arousal peaks as Seonghwa’s eyes glint with desire. Almost like Seonghwa enjoys the banter and feistiness Wooyoung is putting out.

“I wouldn’t know… you’re the first person I’ve approached.”

“To-Tonight?” Wooyoung stammers, caught a bit off-guard by the sudden admission.

“I don’t make a habit of coming to clubs like this, but I might have to make an exception for you. If you come often, that is.” Seonghwa is nearly too smooth for Wooyoung to handle, and he hardly realizes how close the vampire has gotten until hot breath fans over Wooyoung’s lips. The distance between the two of them has decreased to centimeters now, yet Wooyoung still finds his body eager to press forward as well. “I’d be more intrigued if I could see such a vision before me every time I came here.”

Fuck, Wooyoung is either very deprived or it’s truly been a long-ass time since someone was this smooth and at ease with him. He can play this game well himself, but to be on the receiving end of it? That is a different ballpark and Wooyoung feels as though he is striking out right now.

“A-Ah, well, this — this is my first t-time here. At a club. Um, one like this. I – I’ve been to clubs, just n-not, yeah,” Wooyoung explains through his flustered state. The hints of his struggle don’t escape Seonghwa’s notice, but the vampire only seems more amused by the way Wooyoung is reacting to his teasing. That damn cocky grin painting Seonghwa’s lips will end Wooyoung if it grows any larger. (The growing issue in his pants is not helping either — that might end Wooyoung as well). “My friend – he dragged m-me out here with him.”

“Hm, then we have something in common, Wooyoung.” His name sounds like honey on Seonghwa’s tongue. Wooyoung’s mind quickly takes that thought further south, guided by his intense lust for the vampire, and he vaguely wonders what Seonghwa would sound like moaning the name instead of merely speaking it. “My friend dragged me out, as well. Said I would find it… enlightening.”

“And is it?” Wooyoung asks, once again swallowing around nothing. His lashes flutter against his will, almost like his body is urging him to just get on with the flirting and speed this process up. Wooyoung doesn’t intend to be so flirtatious or gaudy, he truly doesn’t! It just… slips out in times like these — where arousal rules his brain rather than reason. “Enlightening, I mean?”

“I have yet to find out.”

Some supernatural force must possess Wooyoung because he has no idea what on earth is going through his head as he pushes his way out of the booth to step around the table separating him from Seonghwa. He slings a leg over the vampire’s thighs, straddling his thighs as though‌‌ Wooyoung has done this very same action a million times over, and Seonghwa sits as straight as a rod out of sheer shock.

“Might I be able to enlighten you then?” Wooyoung whispers, tone so sultry and low that he barely recognizes his own voice speaking the words. Seonghwa’s lips fall open, partially in shock and in other parts unabashedly intrigued by Wooyoung’s proposition. Wooyoung has obviously affected him quite a bit if the hardening bulge under that purple velvet is any indication to go by. That sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung’s veins and causes him to guide his lips down to Seonghwa’s deep red ones. The vampire meets him halfway after recovering from the initial wave of shock and doesn’t waste a second before slipping his tongue out to caress Wooyoung’s lower lip. Wooyoung shivers into the faint touch. The heavy film of lust over his mind deepens further, shrouding every ounce of reason like a veil, and Wooyoung forgets where he is when his lips are on Seonghwa’s.

Seonghwa is an enthusiastic kisser, as well as a passionate one; his tongue dances over Wooyoung’s lip to the rhythm of the music until Wooyoung finally decides to drop his jaw and let the man into his mouth. The second Seonghwa pushes into his wet heat, Wooyoung releases a startled moan thanks to the sheer coldness on the vampire’s tongue. Seonghwa eats the sound right up and presses harder into the human’s body with such fervor that Wooyoung thinks he might melt from the sensation. He doesn’t dare stop for a breath — he can breathe later and surely Seonghwa doesn’t need to breathe; right now he just needs Seonghwa’s lips on his like it’s a drug. Slowly but surely, Seonghwa’s arms fold around his waist to form a delicate cage that keeps Wooyoung secure against the vampire’s sturdy and lean muscle. He is cold all over, colder than Wooyoung expects him to be, but he supposes that makes perfect sense since Seonghwa is a vampire.

Nonetheless, Wooyoung tenses as cold fingers trace over the bit of exposed skin on his lower back, toying with the hem of the crop top he wears. Seonghwa uses the moment of surprise as an opportunity to thrust his wet muscle further into Wooyoung’s mouth, exploring his palate and tasting every inch of the human’s wet cavern as though it’s his last meal.

The delicate sensations have Wooyoung grinding down hard on Seonghwa’s tented erection, and his own erection rubs deliciously over Seonghwa’s suit. It’s Seonghwa’s turn to groan into Wooyoung’s mouth, however, and the sound is better than ‌Wooyoung could have imagined; if his gut could pool with more arousal, it surely would at this point. He repeats the jerking motion a second time, shifting the angle a bit this time so that his cock rubs more directly against the outline of Seonghwa’s straining member. A weak whimper slips through the kiss and permeates the air around the two of them — Seonghwa’s gaze grows so dark with desire that his eyes don’t seem gold any longer and Wooyoung thinks that the vampire could devour him on the spot.

Seonghwa finally pulls back from the kiss and sits back against the booth to admire the sight of Wooyoung above him. He’s almost too cheeky in the way his tongue continues to tease the corner of his mouth, arms coming up to rest on the back of the booth like he’s sitting on a throne with Wooyoung on top of him. Wooyoung can’t get enough of that smug and arrogant demeanor, though, something about it sends him into an erotic frenzy, nor can he recover from the arousal still plaguing his mind. Thus Wooyoung braces his hands on Seonghwa’s shoulders and grinds down against his clothed dick with more force than before.

The vampire tilts his head back, teeth bared like an animal. Air hisses through them as he tries to maintain his formal composure. Wooyoung knows what he is doing though; he is dismantling Seonghwa piece by piece, and that is painfully obvious from the lust in his eyes and the erection between them. Seonghwa doesn’t let his gaze leave Wooyoung for even a second, watching him with such intensity that Wooyoung sees himself falling to pieces under it. He stays in one piece at least until the vampire beckons him to come closer with a single finger. Wooyoung falls against his chest without a drop of hesitation.

Seonghwa doesn’t bother explaining what he’s up to; he merely leans until his lips find the base of Wooyoung’s neck and exhales hot breath over the sweat-slick skin there. His tongue pokes out to brush the warm, all-too-human skin underneath him. It brings an audible sigh from his full lips, the taste of Wooyoung on his lips and filling his senses in no time.

“May I bite you, lovely?” Seonghwa inquires, tone thrumming with desire. Wooyoung wouldn’t dream of saying no to him, not when he is so pent up with this combination of sexual frustration and arousal.

“P-Please,” Wooyoung pants into the shell of his ear. He delights in the goosebumps that travel over Seonghwa’s skin as his words caress the vampire’s ear, and Seonghwa inhales sharply before letting his tongue once again lap over the warm skin beneath his lips. Then his teeth — well, his fangs rather — sink into the junction of Wooyoung’s neck and shoulder, piercing the human with a sudden burn of pain. It catches Wooyoung off-guard for a prolonged moment, but that sting is merely momentary as it dissolves into a strange pleasure he can’t really explain. Heat swarms his veins, like a fire has been ignited in him from the inside out, and it makes him almost light-headed despite the fact that Seonghwa hasn’t pulled a drop of blood out of him yet. In fact, Seonghwa doesn’t suck any blood from his body right away, leaving that heady sensation to thrum through Wooyoung’s veins until his muscles lose some of their tension. It is like an itch Wooyoung can’t scratch, a buried need for something more, and he blindly pushes himself further against Seonghwa’s mouth.

Seonghwa doesn’t have to question what Wooyoung is asking for; it is already more than evident in the human’s erratic movements. The tips of his fingers tingle as Seonghwa begins to drag blood from the puncture wounds in his neck, and he feels his eyes fluttering as a dull throbbing blossoms there. Seonghwa eases him through it with gentle laps of his tongue between soft sucks.

Wooyoung doesn’t expect for it to be as pleasurable as it is, but his dick throbs behind the confines of his pants and pulses with each suck Seonghwa provides. He ruts like a dog shamelessly against the other’s cock in an attempt to feel more of that heady pleasure before daring to bring a hand down to ghost over the tent of Seonghwa’s arousal. Thinking with reason and rationality left him long ago, and Wooyoung only makes matters worse by pressing his fingers over that button and zipper, tugging the material back so he can slip the same hand below the band of the vampire’s underwear.

His member is slick with precum against Wooyoung’s palm, and there is a small wet splotch to be felt on his black briefs from said substance that makes Wooyoung practically preen. Precum continues to spill from the vampire’s slit the more he laps at Wooyoung’s neck, taking the blood onto his tongue and swallowing it down with a practiced ease. Wooyoung uses that slickness like lube to jerk his cock with hasty movements. Seonghwa twitches against his palm.

Pulling back from the human’s neck, said vampire heaves several deep breaths that come out in ragged gasps despite the lack of need to breathe, and that alone is a cue that Wooyoung is bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

“F-Fuck, need to – ah, need to close that,” he stammers while motions towards Wooyoung’s neck with his head. A swell of pride rises in Wooyoung’s chest as he hears the stutter, glad to have a similar debilitating effect on the vampire. Thus, he leans his shoulder back towards Seonghwa’s mouth and exposes the pretty line of his neck further. It’s an invitation for him to continue to pull blood out, but Seonghwa seems to pull some restraint out of his ass and shakes his head. “Can’t take — mm, fuck — can’t take too much. Don’t want you to pass out before the real fun begins.”

His words leave a clever insinuation that has heat rising up the back of Wooyoung’s neck. Seonghwa pulls him close before he can think too hard about what it might mean, and this time when the vampire brings his lips to his skin, it’s only his tongue that pokes out and touches Wooyoung. Sharp fangs pull back into regular canines to let him close the wound, saliva hot and scalding against Wooyoung’s skin, and the human mewls under the ministrations.

“What? Does your spit ha-have some sort of magical healing properties?” Wooyoung huffs out as the man tongues over the puncture wounds.

“Hm, something like that. Perhaps I can explain it to you sometime when we aren’t… otherwise occupied. Unless hearing archaic verbiage and medical terms increases your pleasure, in which case I can surely speak more.”

“F-Fuck, no, pl-please not now. I just wanna t-touch you.”

Wooyoung can’t keep the same pace on Seonghwa’s cock any longer, hand jerking in haphazard and stuttered strokes along his length. Seonghwa brings his arms tight around Wooyoung’s midsection and squeezing him tight; the motion indirectly forces Wooyoung’s cock to rub harder against where he has his hand shoved down the vampire’s pants. It is tantalizing and teasing in a way that hurts almost — he can’t quite reach his high like this, it isn’t enough to push him over the edge, but Seonghwa does end up breaking. His cock twitches and spills surprisingly warm come over Wooyoung’s hand.

The human doesn’t think twice before bringing that same hand up to his lips, pulling back so Seonghwa can watch the action clear as day, and Wooyoung pulls his tongue over every centimeter of his fingers and palm until the come has fully disappeared behind his lips.

“That’s… damn, that’s most definitely enlightening, doll,” Seonghwa exhales. His breaths remain shaky, and his eyes still contain that thick film of lust like nothing has changed and he hasn’t just come. Wooyoung can’t look away even for a second.

“And what about that real fun you promised?” Wooyoung inquires in a tone that suddenly sounds small and weak. The confidence ebbs away as need settles in, cock still throbbing painfully in his pants. Seonghwa smirks back at him. His gut surges with anticipation.

“Why don’t we get out of here so you can find out?”

That’s how Wooyoung finds himself in the passenger seat of an all too sleek black car with Seonghwa in the driver seat. The vampire is far more cool and collected than Wooyoung, with his hand curled on the upper portion of Wooyoung’s thigh and close to his crotch. The touch burns and stings in a beautiful way, one that makes Wooyoung even more needy for a release. He left San in the club — along with a quick text that he was on his way out — before letting Seonghwa open the door for him. And ever the gentleman, Seonghwa offered to merely drop him off and nothing else, but Wooyoung has already thrown caution to the wind and refuses to come unless Seonghwa is the one to make him do it.

“You live in a rather convenient spot. Easy access to lots of things in the city. I’m assuming because of work?”

“Um, y-yeah,” Wooyoung stammers. Seonghwa’s index finger digs harder into the flesh of his thigh. “I’m a receptionist a-at a brokerage firm. Kinda boring but… uh, it’s temporary.” Seonghwa massages the leather around Wooyoung’s leg again. “I — f-fuck.” Wooyoung can’t figure out what he was wanting or trying to say; it’s all blurred by that hand on his leg that just rubs and massages his muscle with such intensity that he cannot think straight.

“Hm? Am I distracting you, doll?”

Doll.

Wooyoung wants to melt through the floor of the car.

“I-I need…” Wooyoung trails off.

“What do you need, Wooyoung? Say the word and it’s yours.”

“I n-need you to touch me please,” Wooyoung whispers with a fragile shakiness to his tone. It betrays how much desperate he is, and Seonghwa is right there to reward him by pushing his hand further up to cup his strained erection through the leather.

“I can touch you more once we’re at your apartment, precious,” Seonghwa purrs, eyes flitting over the GPS with Wooyoung’s address typed into it.

“Will you… fuck me?” Wooyoung asks as he shifts to glance over at Seonghwa. The vampire’s fingers tighten around the wheel and clutch the leather like it’s a lifeline.

“Perhaps not tonight… I would not wish to fully ruin you during our first night together. However, I can promise that after over a millennium of practice, there are numerous ways I could have you falling apart under my ministrations if that is what you desire.”

Two things stop Wooyoung in his tracks.

First the realization that Seonghwa has lived (if it can even be called living – perhaps undead living? Wooyoung isn’t sure what the proper term would be) for over a millennium.

And second, the implication behind this being their first night together. Wooyoung is not loath to admit how desperately he wants to figure out every single manner in which Seonghwa could ruin him, and as such he will happily settle for whatever else Seonghwa has to offer.

“Okay,” Wooyoung whispers, equal parts breathless and overwhelmed. Seonghwa’s palm alleviates some of the pressure on his cock. Wooyoung darts his own hand out to clutch tightly at the vampire’s wrist. “Please don’t stop.”

“Then how will we ever get inside, darling?”

It’s only when Seonghwa utters those words that Wooyoung realizes the car has come to a stop in front of his apartment complex, and he doesn’t fight it this time when Seonghwa’s hand slips away from him. He does, however, wait in the car as the vampire loops around to his side of the vehicle and pulls the door open.

“I’m not used to anyone being a gentleman with me,” Wooyoung murmurs as he climbs out of the car, trying to shift his uncomfortable erection a bit so he can walk better. Seonghwa’s hand comes to find a home on the small of his back after shutting the door and locking the car. Cold breath brushes over Wooyoung’s ear.

“Then it seems they have all been treating you improperly. In fact, it wasn’t very fair of me to take my pleasure before you did earlier. I promise to make it up to you by letting you come as many times as you would like.” Wooyoung can feel the way Seonghwa’s lips curl into a smirk with those words, and he would be lying if he claimed that they didn’t make him want to get on his knees and suck the vampire dry in this dingy parking lot. He manages to maintain some dignity — enough to make it into the building and onto the elevator — before he is pressing his flushed body hard into Seonghwa’s cold one. The vampire catches him with ease, like he weighs nothing, and Wooyoung is sure that he must seem rather light compared to that superhuman strength.

“Well if you don’t plan on fucking me tonight, then I would very much like to explore the numerous ways you can make me come otherwise,” Wooyoung says through a smile that borders on lecherous. He catches the velvet choker clinging to Seonghwa’s neck with his index finger, tugging the man down to his height so their lips can brush over each other. “I’ve never come more than four times in a night, you know. But then again… I’ve never been with a vampire either.”

“Are you insinuating that I can do better than your past lovers, doll?”

“Don’t you think you can manage five in the very least?” Wooyoung quips back, glancing up at Seonghwa’s dark golden eyes through fluttering lashes. “I hear that a vampire’s bite just before an orgasm can be quite intoxicating and addictive. Is that true?”

“Depends on the type of bite.” Seonghwa’s lips won’t lose their smile, even as the elevator dings and announces their arrival on Wooyoung’s floor. “We have feeding bites like the one I gave you earlier which are quite pleasurable for both parties, but then we also have marking bites, and those are the ones that are as intoxicating and addictive as you’ve heard.” Seonghwa guides Wooyoung into the hall with hands gripping hard at his hips, pushing the man through the corridor like he knows where he is going, but he stops a little ways away from the elevator to let Wooyoung guide him the rest of the way. Wooyoung lets his hand fall from the vampire’s neck down to the soft velvet belt loops on his pants, using them as an anchor to tug Seonghwa along. He refuses to let go even as they reach his door — room 427 at the far end of the hall on the left. He is silently begging that his roommate Hongjoong won’t be home, but those hopes are crudely dashed when the door swings open just before Wooyoung inserts his key.

Seonghwa stumbles back as Wooyoung does, but he braces the human against his chest with hands on either shoulder when Hongjoong’s mop of red hair pops out of the room. He startles just the same when he spots Wooyoung and the guest behind him, eyes quickly darting between both without saying a word for several seconds.

“Ah, that explains it,” Hongjoong mutters at last after some time has passed.

“Are you on your way out?” Wooyoung may or may not be in a fucking rush to get Hongjoong out of the way because his raging boner hasn’t gone down in the slightest. If he gets cockblocked at this point, he won’t—

“Yeah, Sannie asked me to pick him up from the club because he’s had a lot to drink. I’m gonna take the bus to get to the club then take him home in his car.”

“Oh good, then you’ll be gone a while!” Wooyoung chirps, pulling himself up straight once more and pressing forward to get past his roommate. He grips one of Seonghwa’s hands tight in his own; an encouragement for the man to follow after him and join him inside. “Might want to stay gone a while too!”

“I plan on it!” Hongjoong calls after him through a snort, then the door snaps shut a moment later to leave Seonghwa and Wooyoung very much alone once more. And the first thing the vampire does is stand beside the door to slip his pristine black loafers off. Wooyoung can’t help but to laugh to himself as he sees them because they simply look so out of place in his dingy apartment that is covered in Hongjoong’s art projects along with scuffs and chipped paint.

“You look too expensive to be standing here,” Wooyoung murmurs, taking the fabric of Seonghwa’s purple vest between his fingers. The vampire tilts his head to the side in question.

“Would it help if I took my clothes off?”

Wooyoung almost rolls his eyes at the tone the vampire uses.

“You would still look… it’s in the way you carry yourself. You just look expensive and elegant, so I’m sure being nude wouldn’t change that a bit.” Wooyoung sucks his lower lip between his teeth as he thinks, suddenly withdrawing from the man to lead the way to his bedroom. “Well, don’t be a stranger! You’re still planning on breaking my record, aren’t you?”

With that, Wooyoung turns to look at Seonghwa over his shoulder as he pulls his sheer crop top up over his head. He tosses the fabric at the man with a high-pitched giggle, delighting in the sudden haste in Seonghwa’s movements when he catches the shirt and rushes to join Wooyoung in the bedroom. The human had forgotten about the stories of how quickly vampires can move, and Seonghwa’s reflexes alone are something to balk at. But what really gets Wooyoung going is the speed at which Seonghwa reaches him; crossing the living room and pinning him flat on his back on his mattress in less than two seconds flat.

It’s a maddening combination of something horribly terrifying and inexplicably arousing. He hadn’t even gotten to take his pants off.

“You enjoy teasing that much, Wooyoung?” Seonghwa hums from above him, fingers closing around the man’s wrists. He simply arches a brow in response as though testing the vampire to do something more, then spreads his legs further apart to let Seonghwa slip between them with ease. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Wooyoung inhales so sharply that his chest burns. Next thing he knows, Seonghwa has descended lower and taken Wooyoung’s pants with him, hooking two fingers around the leather and tugging it down until it hangs about his ankles. And admittedly, Wooyoung had forgone wearing underwear because he had hoped to pick someone up while at the club yet the way Seonghwa’s teasing gaze flits from his leaking member up to Wooyoung’s face sends a surge of embarrassment through the human.

“You grow more fascinating by the second, doll,” Seonghwa murmurs. The tone leaves Wooyoung shivering; either that or it’s the cold air brushing over his now naked body that has him getting more chilly by the second. Seonghwa doesn’t let that sensation last much longer. He folds lithe fingers around the base of Wooyoung’s cock. Just seeing the vampire’s hand around him makes Wooyoung feel helplessly small. He has never been insecure about his dick size, and if anything, the way Seonghwa dwarfs him with his large palm and sprawling fingers makes the arousal in his gut even more intense. Wooyoung squirms under the touch. He’s so embarrassingly hard that he might just come after a few jerks of Seonghwa’s hand, but even that seems to be an overestimation — all the vampire has to do is drag his hand up to the head of Wooyoung’s cock and dig his index finger into his slit.

“A-Ah, Seonghwa!” Wooyoung chokes out a moan, slapping a hand over his lips as the sound escapes him, then he’s coming all over Seonghwa’s hand like he’s never been touched before in his life.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I want to hear it all.” That’s all Seonghwa says before he is descending on Wooyoung’s dick with his lips. He takes Wooyoung all the way until his nose brushes against the bare skin of his crotch, leaving the man crying out. His tongue feels impossibly long on the underside of Wooyoung’s cock as it teases a bulging vein there even as Wooyoung softens up. Seonghwa doesn’t budge on bit for what feels like hours, and Wooyoung grows mildly concerned as the minutes pass before he realizes that Seonghwa has no need to breathe, so he can’t possibly choke or run out of breath while cockwarming Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s mouth is as oddly cold as the rest of him, but it isn’t an unpleasant feeling in the slightest. Especially not as Seonghwa starts to suck over his member.

Now, Wooyoung is young, yes — the ripe and youthful age of 23, fresh out of university and in his prime — and as such, he usually can last around seven and a half minutes before coming. Note, usually, because whatever the fuck Seonghwa is doing to his cock right now has Wooyoung coming down the vampire’s throat in less than two minutes. He can’t even make a sound beyond a weak and shaky whimper this time. Seonghwa swallows around him, taking down every last drop of come, and once he’s done, he pulls off Wooyoung’s softening member with a wet pop.

“I thought you said this would be a challenge, darling, but that’s already two of five.”

“Oh, bite me,” Wooyoung scoffs without thinking twice about what exactly his words might entail. Seonghwa shifts to be eye level with him a second later.

“Is that how you’d like to come next? Untouched and at my mercy?”

That should terrify Wooyoung. Make him want to run and hide like any normal person would, but Wooyoung doesn’t consider himself or his interests in the bedroom normal in the slightest, because all those words make him do is sling an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders and fist a hand through the man’s jet black hair. He guides Seonghwa down to the curve of his neck, right over the place where Seonghwa bit him before, although that mark has dissolved into nothing now.

“Show me exactly how intoxicating and addicting it is then.”

Seonghwa hesitates, hands braced on either side of Wooyoung’s head, and even as Wooyoung tries to push him down, the vampire manages to maintain some distance between his lips and Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung almost thinks that he’s going to be left high and dry like this because of how long Seonghwa ponders. Then a tongue teases his skin, tasting the sweat clinging to his body. The groan that leaves Seonghwa reverberates in his chest and sounds practically visceral. He makes good on his promise with his next action though.

This time when teeth sink in Wooyoung’s neck, the pain increases tenfold, like there are two sets of fangs pushing into him rather than just one. Wooyoung cries out, and his hips cant forward as pleasure seeps into his body. It’s like a drug — one that clouds his vision and makes fire run through his veins. The soft velvet of Seonghwa’s pants allows for some comfort as Wooyoung ruts helplessly against him, and all the while, the vampire laps his tongue around the puncture wounds he left at Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung is too far gone to think about whether he’s also pulling blood again; he isn’t even sure if his eyes or open or not at this point. The white light clogging his eyes is too strong and powerful for him to think about anything other than the sheer euphoria he’s experiencing in this moment.

Seonghwa guides him through it, hands reaching down to roam Wooyoung’s searing body like a cool breeze. Wooyoung doesn’t feel a thing when he comes again; all he knows is that his hips come to a halt and something eases him back to the bed to rest comfortably there in a daze. Cold hands brush over his forehead, the white light starts to fade from his vision, and when Wooyoung comes back to his senses, Seonghwa is leaning over him with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung exhales.

“Perhaps it’s been too long since I engaged in that… I forgot how intense it would be for a human’s body.”

“Oh, it was intense alright.” The words slur together. All the strength is leaving Wooyoung’s body quickly, and instead a pleasant floating sensation takes over him. “Best orgasm I’ve ever had too, holy fuck.” A small huff of laughter escapes Seonghwa.

“I’ll spare you your challenge tonight. Any more strain on your body wouldn’t be good.”

Wooyoung has enough willpower to pout at those words, but Seonghwa’s resolve remains, and the vampire merely tuts and thumbs over Wooyoung’s chin.

“Now, now, doll. Only for tonight. We can break your record another time. For now, let me get you cleaned up so you can rest comfortably.”

“Towels in the bathroom…” Wooyoung drawls as his eyes fall shut again. He feels Seonghwa’s cold fingers brushing over his cheek once more before sleep overtakes him, dragging him down into a peaceful and dreamless rest.

↢  ♡  ↣

[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt. 

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as  the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its  charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

[cassandraclare]

Our December flash fiction piece, A Lightwood Christmas Carol, is the second part of a two part story. If you didn't read part one last month, or want to refresh your memory, click here:

Otherwise, read on!

PART 2

“So,” Gideon said to Will the next night as they patrolled together in Mayfair, “the whole thing was a wash. I’m not murdering some poor bastard’s dog.”

Patrol with Will was normally a relaxing experience for Gideon. They enjoyed each other’s company, and demons had become so scarce in London that almost all of the time it was only a night stroll with a friend. Will even periodically recommended that they investigate for any suspicious activity in some local public house known to him.

Tonight, of course, there would be no ordering a quick round as a cover story for interrogating, i.e. merrily chatting up, the barstaff; Will was far too full of Christmas spirit. He had insisted on taking them by Trafalgar Square and spent many minutes in admiration of its temporary giant tree, and had stopped—twice!—to admire groups of carolers and applaud them. Gideon was bearing up well, he thought, considering. He even got into the spirit a very tiny amount, which is to say he was willing to eat some of the roast chestnuts Will bought.

Now Tatiana (and the dog news) had deflated Will’s mood, and Gideon felt a little badly about it. Will was frowning thoughtfully. “Why not just offer her money?” he said.

Gideon sighed. “Because Tatiana has plenty of money, all of our family money. And Gabriel and I have only our salaries as Shadowhunters. She doesn’t need money.”

Will looked scornful. “Everybody likes more money.”’

“Normally I would agree with you,” Gideon said, shaking his head, “but you did not see Tatiana’s state of mind. She cannot be approached in the way you would approach a rational person. I must do this task for her, but of course I cannot. Hurt a dog, of all things. I would never. Disgusting.”

Will stood looking past him for a long moment, and eventually Gideon said, “Will?”

“We will take care of it,” Will suddenly said. His gaze snapped back to Gideon’s face, and he was smiling. “We will give Tatiana what she wants, and we will not hurt any animals in the process.”

“We?” said Gideon, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, it’s my plan,” Will said reasonably. “So obviously I’ll be along.”

Despite himself, a smile played at the edges of Gideon’s mouth. That was the one thing he had over Tatiana, after all. He wasn’t alone.

###

The front door of Chiswick House swung open with somewhat more speed than it had two days prior, and Tatiana’s suspicious face appeared. She was wearing the same dress she had been wearing before, to Gideon’s dismay. In her left hand she carried the cleaned skull of some unidentifiable small mammal; Gideon didn’t wish to inquire why.

Tatiana’s glare quickly moved from Gideon to Will, who was bopping up and down nervously behind him. Will had insisted on coming, against Gideon’s better judgment, and only now did he realize the possibility that Tatiana might not even see him if Will was along.

Will, for his part, did his best. “Hullo, Tatiana my love,” he said. “Many greetings of the season! How excellently you’ve kept up the place.”

Tatiana blinked at him, startled out of whatever she had been about to shout. Gideon knew that Will had three good nips of brandy in him, and reckoned that was probably the best way to handle the situation. Meet the unexpected with the unexpected.

“Why have you brought my nemesis to my house?” Tatiana said, in the same tone she might have used if she were asking why Gideon had failed to return a book he’d borrowed.

“Crikey,” said Will. “Nemesis? Tatiana, I bear you no ill will. Have I ever, even once, interfered with your life? With your going about your business?”

“Yes,” said Tatiana. “Twice. Once when you murdered my husband, and once when you murdered my father.”

Will made a choked noise. “I murdered your father because he murdered your husband! And I didn’t murder him, he’d changed into some kind of great serpent.”

“A worm, Will,” said Gideon quietly. “He was a giant worm. Not a serpent.”

“As I remember,” said Will, “it were a great wyrm, from the depths of the Abyss, that we dispatched.”

“It was not,” said Gideon.

“It was my father,” ground out Tatiana, “and I wish to know, Gideon, why you have brought him here? I asked you to perform a task for me.”

“And I have performed it,” Gideon said briskly. “Mr. Herondale was good enough to come along, to help protect me from this most vicious of dogs that you described.”

“It’s actually quite vicious,” Will agreed.

“If you’ll just let us come in,” Gideon said.

Tatiana squinted at both of them as if trying to see through a possible glamour. “Well, come in, then. But you won’t get tea.”

“Tatiana,” Will said with an understanding chuckle. “There’s obviously no way I would ever consume any food or drink at your house.”

This was going rather well, Gideon thought.

Ensconced back in his father’s office, with no tea offered nor taken, Tatiana said, “Well?”

Gideon reached into his jacket and lay a dog’s collar, a weathered length of leather cord, down on the desktop with a flourish.

Tatiana looked at it and then up at him. “What is this?”

“It is the dog’s collar,” Gideon said. “A trophy of our dispatching it.”

She looked at it again. “This tells me nothing. You could simply have taken the collar off of that dog.”

“Madam,” said Will, “if I may? No man could possibly have taken the collar off of that dog. I would advise no man to put their hand within several feet of that dog’s neck, if they wish to retain said hand. Now that that collar is off, no man could ever put it back on.” He spoke in serious tones.

“I need something more,” Tatiana said. “If you killed the dog, you must know where it is. Go back and bring me the dog’s tail, or something.”

“Tatiana,” Gideon began, but Will interrupted.

“If I may again,” he said, “the dog resides on the far side of the very tall and very pointy iron fence that stands between the dog’s property and the road. Climbing over that fence at all is a feat that I would advise only the most well-trained of Shadowhunters to attempt once, and I would recommend they do it empty-handed, rather than carrying some random bit of dog. I’m afraid that the collar will have to suffice.”

Tatiana sat back and shook her head, dissatisfaction wrinkling her mouth. “Proof that you have dispatched the dog,” she said, “and not merely that you have encountered it.”

Gideon waited for Will to jump in again, but Will was silent. He seemed unsure how to proceed. Finally, he said, “Tatiana, give him the papers. Because it’s Christmas.”

“What?” said Gideon in disbelief.

Tatiana looked at Will with loathing. “Mundane holidays are meaningless to me.”

“I should have guessed, yes,” muttered Will.

“Please,” said Gideon, at the end of his rope. “My son—he’s…he’s like your son.” Tatiana stared at him in silence for a moment, so he pressed on. “He’s…he’s very small, and he’s often ill, and we worry about his survival. We worry about when we will put Marks on him. Like you do, with your son.”

Tatiana continued to watch Gideon in silence with a lizard-like stare.

“I know we do not see eye-to-eye on our family history,” he said doggedly, and ignored Will’s quiet hmph! from beside him. “But we are family nevertheless, and we may both have…inherited something. From our father. Something we’ve now passed to our sons. I must look through the papers to see if there is any clue there.”

She stared for a long and agonizing moment, and then she said, “Get out of my house.”

“Tatiana,” he began.

“How dare you compare your son and mine!” she said, her voice rising in volume. “Anyone could guess where the weakness in your son originates, and it is obviously with your decision to mix your blood with the most mundane you could find!” Her voice had risen to a shout.

“Sophie is an Ascended Shadowhunter!” Will shouted back, staunchly, and Gideon realized he was happy that Will was there.

“I don’t care!” Tatiana shouted. “My son is of the blood of two of the oldest of the Shadowhunter families. He is not weak like your son. Go back to your weakness, Gideon. Get out of my sight, get out of my house, and do not darken my door again. I have not missed your company, nor your brother’s, and I am relieved that my child will not grow up under the corrupting influence of either of you.”

Gideon made to stand up, but Will said “Tatiana, if I may yet again,” and he sat back down. Tatiana glowered at him. “I think,” Will went on, in a newly serious tone, “that if you and I could step outside into the hallway for a moment and talk in private—just for a moment. Give me three minutes, that is all. And after that, we will depart and we promise never to return. Right, Gideon?”

Gideon did not much wish to promise never to return to the house he’d grown up in, so he only said, “Whatever you wish.”

Tatiana examined Will’s face carefully, and then said, “You have two minutes, starting from this moment.” She rose from her seat and made for the door.

“Will, what are you—” Gideon began.

Will put the tip of his finger to his lips to quiet Gideon. “Trust me,” he said. “I believe that I can create a Christmas miracle.”

Helplessly Gideon watched his sister and his friend depart and close the door behind them. The seconds ticked by. Two minutes passed, then another two, then three more.

Then Tatiana came back into the room, followed by Will. Gideon tried to read Will’s expression, but it was neutral, nonchalant.

In Tatiana’s hands were two notebooks, packed with loose papers supplementing their own contents. Their covers, and the loose pages, were densely smeared with soot. “The papers of Benedict Lightwood,” she said. “You do not deserve them. And I am not gifting them to you. They are part of the house, and the house is mine, and they are also mine. You shall have them to peruse or copy at your leisure for the term of one week, and if they are not returned by that date, in their original condition, may the Angel have mercy on your souls. Both of you,” she added in Will’s direction.

Will threw up his hands in surrender. “I really just came for the dog-wrestling.”

Wondering, Gideon took the papers from her. He turned to look at Will, who murmured to him, “A Christmas miracle,” with a small smile.

#

“Come now,” Gideon said in the carriage on the way back from Chiswick, “what did you say to Tatiana to make her concede?”

It was snowing, that rare snow with very little wind, so flakes fell in a picturesque fluttering, rather than battering at the carriage like they might have as they made their way through Hammersmith, back in the direction of Central London. Will leaned back in his seat and gazed out the window.

“Well, if you must know,” he said, “I delivered an extremely well-considered speech, touching on the topics of the importance of family, the virtue of forgiveness, the need for all Shadowhunters to be allied in the fight against demons, the smallness of the sacrifice being asked of her, the pointlessness of revenge, and, of course, the giving nature of the season.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” said Will eagerly. “And then, I counted banknotes totalling two hundred British pounds sterling directly into her hand.”

“Will!” said Gideon, shocked.

“I told you,” Will said airily. “Everyone likes money. Even mad revenge-seeking sisters, with the dried blood of their husbands on their frocks, like money.”

Gideon was flummoxed. It was an enormous sum. “You didn’t have to do that, Will,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve the money.”

“What she doesn’t deserve,” Will said hotly, “is the moral victory. It was money well-spent to be gone from that house.”

Gideon opened the journals, marveling at Will Herondale. His financial standing was better than Gideon’s own, surely, but two hundred pounds was an enormous amount of money, well more than Will could throw away on a lark. And yet he’d not hesitated to wield that money for Gideon’s sake, had in fact, Gideon now realized, brought the money with him on purpose.

So strange, Gideon thought with a sidelong look at Will, who continued harrumphing to himself quietly in victory. At this moment this boy he’d despised as a child was more his family than his own actual sister. And he found he was able to accept that. A Christmas miracle indeed.

“I really had better return these to Tatiana in a week,” he said, examining the journals again before he started reading. “Or she’s like to set a demon on me.”

Will chuckled. “Ha. Maybe she would at that.”

Gideon paused. “She might, you know. All jokes aside. It’s a legitimate possibility.”

“It is,” agreed Will, a little more grimly.

Minutes passed, during which Gideon skimmed the papers, frowning. After a time he found himself back at the beginning, and he wrinkled his brow, bemused.

Will turned back from where he had been watching the Bath Road go by. “What is it?” he said.

“There’s nothing here,” Gideon said, frustrated. “Plenty of terrible things, of course. My father was a…a…” He struggled for the right word.

“Monster?” suggested Will.

“Pervert,” said Gideon carefully. He shuffled through the pages until he found one that was only an elaborate diagram his father had made up in pencil and showed it to Will.

Will blinked at it. “Jiminy,” he said.

“But there’s nothing here that would cause weakness or fragility in his descendants,” Gideon went on. “No curses, no hexes, no demon poisons….”

“Only the pox, then,” Will said dryly.

“Yes, but that isn’t hereditary,” Gideon said. “We looked into that years ago for our own sakes.” He shuffled the papers. “All that trouble, and for nothing. Thomas remains frail and I remain unable to do anything for him.”

There was a silence and then Will said, “Gideon, it is Christmastime, and Christmas is a time to tell the truth. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“If you say so,” Gideon said, waving his hand. From his experience Christmas a time to sing in the street and eat a goose, but who knew what strange traditions Will had from his mundane childhood. “In any event, I’d agree you should tell the truth whatever the time of year.”

“Gideon,” Will said, clapping his hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “There is nothing wrong whatsoever with Thomas.”

Gideon sighed. “That’s very kind of you to say, Will, but—”

“But nothing. Thomas is just small. Sometimes children are small. He’s not cursed or hexed.”

“He gets sick,” Gideon pressed. “All the time.”

Will laughed. “Do you have any idea how sick Cecily was as an infant? She was colicky, and then she had fevers…she cried more than she slept, those first few years.”

“And then what?”

Will threw up his hands. “And then nothing! She grew! She fell ill less and less often. That is the way of children. And we did not have terrifying mute telepathic doctors to take care of us. Does Thomas eat? Does he exert himself when he does feel well?”

“Yes,” Gideon admitted.

“Well then,” said Will, leaning back as if his point was made. “Put your mind aside from your supposed cursed family. Tatiana’s son is sickly—does that surprise you, now you’ve seen the house? Now you’ve seen Tatiana? No, of course not.” He looked at Gideon intently. “Thomas’s only trouble,” he said firmly, “is that he is an adorable wee thing.”

Gideon stared at Will. Then he broke into laughter. Will laughed too, his usual hearty chuckle, and Gideon found himself feeling better. He was still worried about Thomas—he would be for a few years, he knew, until the boy had passed the time of worrisome childhood ailments and could be protected with runes—but he felt better nonetheless. He had thought of many ways he might feel on the way back from his sister’s house, but “better” had not been one of them.

“Christmas miracle,” Will whispered gleefully.

Well, thought Gideon. Some kind of miracle, anyway.

[imagine-that]

You Cannot Control Love

Warnings: none, it’s just super duper fluffy

Pairing: Matthew Crawley x female!reader

AN: oh my god it took FOREVER for me to do this request because I went through a very, VERY long period of Downton writers block. So so so SO sorry for the wait, hope you like it ❤️❤️ also I’d like to add this just so it’s clear, he DOES NOT cheat on Mary with you. He and Mary are never actually together in this, they’re just being pushed together. Thank you.

“Mary, must I come with you? I realize mama requested it but I don’t see why.” You groan as Anna pulls your hair back for you. She finishes and you thank her as she leaves the room.

“I have no idea why she requested it but she did so yes you must. Come along now.” Mary orders, and you trudge behind her glumly.

The both of you mount your horses, a servant in tow and the horses begin moving, quickly arriving at their destination.

As you dismount, you glance over at the Crawley house in worry. You’d never once met these people in your life. Though you met many people over the course of your life, that wasn’t to say you enjoyed it. Your family required it of you and so that is what you did. Still, you were feeling nervous.

As Molesley announces your arrival, you overhear some rather rude things being said, making you blush a deep red. As you bite your lip, a man who you can only presume to be the new heir of Downton makes eye contact with you, clearly surprised at your presence.

Mary, being Mary, is polite enough to pass proper etiquette but of course she makes a few small backhanded remarks before she walks out the door.

“I’m sorry about my sister.” You mumble as you walk away from Isobel, the man quickly following behind you to walk you out. “She can come off a bit rough sometimes.” You add quietly.

“It’s alright, I was in the wrong there. I do hope she knows it was only a joke though.” He responds worriedly.

You smile softly to yourself. “Knowing her she probably believes the whole thing is a joke anyway.” You say.

He smiles slightly, nodding a little.

“Well um... I suppose we’ll see you for dinner.” You say and he nods curtly, watching as you mount your horse.

“Yes, of course.” He agrees, stepping back. You wave kindly and tug on the reigns, guiding your horse after Mary’s and back towards Downtons grounds.

————————————————————

“Lady y/n, it’s time for dinner.” Anna says as she peeks into your room to inform you.

You stand from your spot, turning towards her. “Right, of course. I’m terribly sorry.” You apologize, knowing that you should’ve gone down a few minutes ago.

She leaves the room and you quickly follow, parting ways as she heads back to the servants quarters and you head down towards the foyer to walk to the dining room.

“Oh!” You exclaim in surprise, finding the guests with their coats in the foyer and your father there to greet them. You were surprised they hadn’t already made their way to the dining room. Your eyes land on the man from earlier’s and it seems his own are already on you.

“Good evening lady y/n. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Isobel says.

You smile over at her, your attention off of her son.

“Thank you, you as well Mrs Crawley.” You agree politely.

“Evening.” The man greets, his eyes darting busily around the room.

You excuse yourself, feeling more awkward than you’d like, and make your way into the grand hall, standing next to Sybil.

“They do seem nice, don’t they?” She says joyfully.

You nod, smiling weakly.

“What’s the matter y/n?” She asks knowingly.

“He seems rather... stubborn, does he not?” You ask in a whisper.

“Perhaps. I have yet to meet him really.” She responds with a small shrug.

After the full introduction, you all sit down to eat, quietly starting conversations. You focus more on your dinner than the company, not wanting to be a bother to anyone else in the room.

You overhear a conversation about the hospital, one about money and decided it was better to stay out of both.

As Thomas explains the way dinner works in the household quietly in his usual condescending manner, you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Though you often found Thomas amusing, you also found him quite rude at times.

“Yes, I know, thank you.” Matthew replies, clearly annoyed.

Mary simply smiles at him in an approving manner.

“You’ll soon get used to the way things are done around here.” Mary remarks.

You sigh, knowing she’s being rude.

“If you’re implying that I’m accustomed to a very different life from this, that would be true.” Matthew mutters back, clearly tired of the dinner already.

“We can’t all grow up in overly wealthy households Mary.” You mutter, hoping your parents and grandmother didn’t hear.

Mary looks at you in shock and Matthew does his best to suppress the first smile you’d seen on him since you’d met.

The conversation shifts back to work related things, boring you.

As dinner finishes off, you go with the ladies into the sitting room while the men walk off to your fathers study. Once you’re bored enough of the chit chat, you excuse yourself again, wandering off into the hall and down to your fathers study.

“Papa?” You say as you knock gently on the slightly open door.

“Yes y/n?” He asks, raising his eyebrows in question as you enter the room.

“I believe Carson was looking for you. I would’ve thought he’d know you were in here but he is a busy man indeed so.” You explain.

He stands, walking over to the door where you stand, quickly moving out of the way.

“Thank you for telling me y/n. I shouldn’t be more than a moment.” He says apologetically to Matthew. He walks it into the hall and you go to take a seat near Matthew.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

“The lady talk gets boring after a while. Besides, Carson wasn’t really looking for Papa. I just figured you might need saving from that conversation.” You explain with a mischievous grin.

He laughs a little, smiling over at you. “You were correct in that assumption, thank you.” He replies.

“Anytime. I’m sure it’s difficult to completely change your life like this.” You say with a sympathetic smile.

“A bit I suppose but it’s not all that bad if I’m being honest.” He admits with a shrug.

“Well, if you’d ever like to get away from it or not worry about it, come find me. I’ve gotten fairly good at it myself.” You offer with a smile.

“I do apologize for my behaviour when we arrived.” He apologizes suddenly. “It was never my intention to come off as rude. It’s just a lot to take in is all.” He adds.

You giggle a little. “No need to apologize. I’ve got thick skin cousin Matthew. I can handle my own.” You tell him with another playful smile.

“I don’t doubt that.” He tells you.

The two of you sit staring at each other for what feels like forever, stuck in the moment that was unfold right before your eyes.

“It seems Carson was never looking for me at all. Not sure who told y/n he was but anyway...” Your father says as he reenters the room, letting the door shut behind him.

“Oh, y/n, you’re still in here!” He says in surprise.

You stand quickly, brushing off your skirt awkwardly.

“Yes papa, I figured you may not want to leave cousin Matthew all alone like that.” You offer as an explanation, resisting your wide grin as you notice Matthew silently chuckling to himself.

“I’m off to bed. Goodnight Papa. Good to see you again cousin Matthew.” You say quickly before your father can say anything else, quickly slipping out the door as you notice the grin on Matthews face, one of your own settling on yours as you climb the stairs and walk to your room.

————————————————————————

Over the course of the next few months, you spent much time with Matthew. You knew your family was far too busy trying to marry Mary off to him to notice your absence. You rather enjoyed running around with him, spending so much time outdoors or in the library.

Before you knew it, you were feeling as though you’d fallen in love.

Still, your family was much too oblivious to notice. That became painfully clear to you one morning at breakfast.

“Y/n dear, how do you feel about the duke of Crowborough?” Your father asks as he flips through the paper.

“I felt he was rather boring and shallow. Why do you ask papa?” You respond and he gives you a look of disapproval at your wording.

“Y/n, we must marry you off someday. The duke of Crowborough was merely a suggestion but a fine one at that.” He lectures and you sigh, biting your tongue to keep from saying anything you may regret.

“Shouldn’t Mary be your main priority since she is the eldest?” You ask, trying to turn the topic away from yourself.

“We’re trying but Mary can be very stubborn, as you know. Perhaps by chance she and Matthew will grow closer soon.” He explains.

You nod a little, eating your breakfast without another word.

Once you’re finished you excuse yourself, making your way outside to the small bench by the large tree near the edge of the property.

“Good morning lady y/n.” Matthew greets kindly.

“Good morning Matthew. I trust you slept well?” You ask out of genuine concern.

He chuckles at your worry, taking a seat on the bench. “Yes it was fine.” He promises, gesturing for you to join him.

The wind blowing around gives a cool breeze as the two of you chat about anything and everything you can think of.

“Your parents seem very insistent on this marriage between Mary and me.” He says finally, bringing up the topic you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Yes well, they’d like for Mary to be able to keep her inheritance though it’s going into downton, not to you directly.” You explain. “It’s rather silly really, it’s quite obvious the two of you aren’t going to get along any time soon.” You add almost bitterly.

“Are you alright y/n? You seem... dare I say jealous?” He asks with a small smile.

You scoff at the mere suggestion, staring down at the green grass below your feet.

“Not at all. I just don’t think the two of you are suited for each other is all.” You argue, trying to keep him from seeing through your lie.

“Ah yes well, there is someone I’d probably be much more suited to be with.” He hums in agreement.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not sure what he’s trying to say.

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?” You ask, nervously fiddling with the sleeves on your dress.

“I mean that I believe I’d have a much easier and more interesting time being married to someone else. Or at least seeing someone else.” He says sheepishly, his naturally pale face now a pale shade of pink.

“Ah. Well she is a very lucky lady.” You say sadly, frowning into your lap.

He chuckles a bit, gently pushing your chin up so you’re looking at him right in his icy blue eyes.

“That lady happens to be you y/n. And I believe I would be the lucky one there.” He assures you.

Without hesitation, you close the small distance between you, softly placing your lips on his.

And that is where you share your first kiss.

————————————————————

Many months after your first kiss, Matthew and you continue sneaking off together for time together.

Finally, as the family puts more pressure on Mary and him, you can’t take it anymore.

When you’re alone together one day, you grab him by the shoulders, making sure he’s looking directly at you when you tell him what you have to say.

“Matthew, I can’t watch any longer as my family pushes you to marry my sister.” You admit with a sigh.

He nods, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You take a deep breath. “I believe we should tell them all. At dinner. Tonight.” You blurt nervously, wishing you would’ve told him earlier.

He looks at you with wide eyes, shocked by your choice considering it had been you who had decided to keep it from everyone else.

“Alright... if you’re sure you’re ready, so am I.” He promises, pressing a light kiss on your forehead. You rest your head against his chest, letting him hold you in his arms for a minute before pulling away.

“I’m going to go get ready, dinner is only about an hour or so away.” You tell him, kissing him quickly as you slip out of the room and back upstairs to your own.

Anna comes and helps you get dressed, quickly doing your hair in the process.

Once finished, you eagerly walk down the stairs, biting your lip out of nerves.

“Ah y/n good to see you dear.” The dowager greets with a warm smile, squeezing your hand as you pass by her.

“Good evening granny. You as well.” You say with a soft smile of your own, taking a seat next to Matthew as well as Sybil. Once everyone has sat at the table, you discreetly put your hand under the table, feeling around until you find Matthews, holding it tight with your own.

“It’ll be fine.” He says in a hushed tone, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You nod with a smile, wishing more than anything that you could just contently rest your head on his shoulder for comfort.

As the butlers make their way around the table, you glare at Thomas when he looks down at your conjoined hands with mischievously raised eyebrows directed at you. He quietly walks away with a smirk on his face.

You clear your throat, nervously standing up and looking around the table at your family as their gazes all slowly shift over to you.

“I actually have something to tell everyone.” You start. They raise their eyebrows and stare in curiosity.

You feel your face flush red, nerves taking over.

“Y/n dear are you alright? Have you taken ill?” Mary asks out of concern. Edith gives her a pointed look, knowing that isn’t what it is.

“No no. I’m- I’m alright.” You muster as Matthew squeezes you hand once again.

Taking a deep breath, you finally decide to just spit it out.

“I know you’d like to marry Mary off to Matthew so she can keep her part of the estate and help take after Downton...” You start shakily. “But I don’t think that would be in anyone’s best interest seeing as Matthew and I are in love.” You finally blurt.

“What? But you two have hardly spent even a moment together!” Your father cries, looking extremely puzzled.

“We started meeting together in secret after that night in your study. We felt it best to keep it hidden.” You explain with a weak apologetic smile.

“As long as that means I don’t have to marry him.” Mary says simply with a grin.

“Mary!” Your mother hisses, clearly angered by her lack of manners.

“What mama? If these two are in love I don’t see why it should be much of an issue. You wanted to marry y/n off at some point anyway.” Mary argues with a shrug.

“For once I agree with Mary. If they’re so taken with each other, let them be.” Edith adds.

“For heavens sake-.” Your father mutters.

“You cannot control love papa, no matter how much you’d like to.” Sybil says with a smile.

You look between all of your sisters, smiling gratefully at all three.

“At least now everyone knows.” Your grandmother cuts in, smiling amusedly over at you and Matthew.

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Do you mean to say that you knew granny?” You ask.

She laughs a bit at your surprise. “Of course I knew. You weren’t exactly subtle, walking around together on the grounds. I’ve only been waiting for you two to get up the courage to tell everyone else. Or at least for one of them to notice.” She responds.

Everyone looks to her, some in confusion and some in amusement. Even the servants, who you knew were listening not at all very discreetly, were surprised.

“Well if my son is happy, I see no reason for me not to be.” Isobel says, smiling kindly at you. You quickly return the gesture, turning your attention back to your parents.

“Papa, I’m sorry we went behind your back. We didn’t think you’d understand.” You sigh, looking to him desperately.

He remains with a hard look, no expression of joy or any such emotions on his face.

Your mother sighs, reaching over and patting her husbands arm. “Oh darling, let them be? You remember what it was like, being young and in love.” She coos, smiling at you and Matthew fondly.

You rest your head on Matthews shoulder, waiting patiently for your fathers response.

“I suppose y/n does need a husband... and it would still be one of our girls at Downton...” He mutters to himself thoughtfully.

“Oh Robert just say yes already.” Your grandmother sighs, tired of his dramatics.

You giggle to yourself at her remark, still watching for his reaction.

“Alright I suppose you have my blessing.” He caves, smiling over at you.

“Thank you Lord Grantham. I assure you, you will not regret it.” Matthew promises.

The topic changes over dinner but the entire time, you remain unable to suppress the ever growing grin on your face. Matthew continues to hold your hand through the entire meal though now it no longer remains hidden.

Once the meal is over you walk with him and Isobel back to the foyer to see them off.

“I’m very happy for the two of you, I hope you know that.” Isobel says as she reaches the door.

“Of course mother, and for that we are very grateful.” Matthew says, your hand still entertwined with his.

“Yes thank you for your support mrs Crawley.” You agree, still grinning from ear to ear.

She glances between the two of you and opens the door. “I’ll just leave you both to it then. I’ll be in the car Matthew.” She says with a smile of her own.

The door shuts and Matthew and you are left alone at last. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up and gently kissing his lips.

“We can do this all the time now.” You comment with a mischievous smile.

He chuckles a bit, resting his forehead against yours. “As if we didn’t already?” He asks teasingly.

“Well now we no longer have to hide it.” You point out.

He nods in agreement, pulling away and grabbing his coat and pulling it on.

“No we do not. I will see you tomorrow.” He says, coming back over and pecking you gently on the lips.

“See you then.” You say softly and he turns and walks out the door, leaving you in pure bliss, glad to no longer have to hide your love from anyone ever again.

[kuroshitsuji-scenarios]

What would lazy days with Edward and Finny look like?

Edward:

What do you mean by lazy day? What do you mean by having a lazy day when there is so much things to do! So many responsibilities! So many places to attend, so many people to visit and greet! Edward simply cannot allow himself to be lazy.

If you truly want to have a lazy day with him, it will definitely cost you a lot of convincing and it won’t be easy. You would have to prepare a whole list of advantages and disadvantages of having a day off—and by the day off meaning not doing anything he is usually supposed to do. The mere thought of missing a fencing lesson would give Edward cold shivers but he would listen to you nonetheless, allowing you to present your arguments and explaining his own afterwards. He takes it very seriously and you should respect that it is important for him to act appropriately.

Still, if you choose a good time and explain to him that the world won’t end if he would give up his responsibilities for once, he would agree. Hesitantly but agree. And so, you would have to teach him how to enjoy having a day off and how to relax.

You might discover that it is, indeed, way more difficult than you thought, when he would wake up early in the morning and immediately start the day with some basic exercises, morning bath and putting on clothes. This is the opposite of what the lazy day is supposed to be! You can convince him to stay in bed longer but the truth is, he would not like it. Laying like that, pointlessly, will make him feel anxious, as if he is forgetting about something really important and soon he would grow impatient but would pretend he is not, wary to not ruin your Lazy Day together.

Edward would not handle the whole ‘doing nothing’ activities well in general and he would be the farest from relaxing he has ever been. If you would want to know what his idea of a lazy day is, then, well, prepare for getting up in the morning and putting an attire on.

First, he would want to eat a proper breakfast, the one where he can enjoy the meal for however long he wants, chatting with you and drinking hot tea with milk, eating soft-boiled eggs and fresh bread with butter. Then, he would invite you to join him in the parlour so you could read out loud for him (because he would love it the most and would rarely focus on the words, instead watching your lips and dreaming of kissing you) or maybe play a board game with him. Before the lunch, he would take you for a walk around the manor, not rushing the time and simply enjoying the stroll through the gardens and the little, stolen glances.

Edward likes dancing and I dare to say that he can be exceptionally good at it, so your afternoon lazy activity could include some dancing lessons—the ones very much different than the ones he usually has with the teachers. He would frown at his mistakes and laugh whenever you mess up the steps, he would embrace you gently and swirl with you around the room, forgetting about the rhythm of music, he would look right into your gorgeous eyes and get utterly lost in them.

He would want to spend the evening with you by the fireplace, resting on the sofa and perhaps entertaining you with some music he can play on the piano. Or, if you are talented in music, he would gladly listen to you do it. The truth is, Edward would cherish the Lazy Day the most because he could spend it with you and not with other people.

Finny:

On his day off, Finny would definitely enjoy getting some more sleep. Being a gardener, he is used to get up as early as the sun rises but it is a nice change to finally not be the first one who is ready to face the day. That means, you might wake up around noon with his limbs entangled with yours, his hair all messy and quiet snoring coming out of his open mouth. There would also be a small trail of saliva on his cheek and it could only mean one thing—well deserved rest.

After getting up and eating late breakfast, Finny would ask you to go with him for some shopping in the city. He might want to make a whole adventure out of it, inviting everyone else, too, so this may not be exactly the time spent together as you imagined. Eventually, you would reach the destination and watch him getting all excited about every single thing he would see behind the shopwindows. It may seem as if he would forget about you the second he would spot something pretty but he would immediately call you to come and see what he found.

This day can be fun only if you would be having fun also.

Your shopping tour would mean embarrassing yourselves mostly—trying on weird, not fitting clothes, looking for the creepiest doll in the toy shop, imagining the taste of all the candies you could not buy. Finny would be able to easily make you laugh and relax with his surprisingly wit humour and gentle attitude, always being kind and respectful to the other customers and staff. You would also have to stop few times when he would spot a snail on the road or something of this sort, because it would call for an emergency and Finny would never allow any living being to get hurt under the shoe, not on his watch!

On a way back home, he would give you the treat you told him you wanted to try the most. It could be expensive or not, but he would get one for you nevertheless, and something for himself, too, to make this great day even better. Plus, he would want to see the smile on your face again and the surprise in your eyes when he handles you the present.

He would prepare something for you both to drink once you would get back home, most likely hot cocoa during winter. Only then you would sit on the porch, wrapped in many layers of blankets so only your heads and hands would stick out and watch the snow falling. It would be different from the loud noises of the city so it would soothe the nerves.

And then, there would be a perfect time for a nap.

To complete the perfect Lazy Day, Finny would love to go to bed early and cuddle with you for hours. If you would be chatting in a meantime or sharing some funny stories it would be even better, and although the thought of getting up in the morning tomorrow would make him sad, he would be the happiest in your arms, simply savouring the moments together. A perfect way to end the perfect day!

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

The one good thing about having a bunch of unrefined blurbs is that I always have something to share when I haven’t actively been writing! And since I’ve been feeling under the weather, that’s...all I have. :3 

Thank you @dungeons-and-dragon-age and @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold for the tags! <3

This week, I have a bit more of Fane’s oddity concerning his jaw and...how he felt the need to go about disclosing it to Solas. *poker face*

“You can dislocate your jaw on command.”, Solas murmured with quiet awe lacing his voice, bringing his other hand up and tossing his staff to the ground to cup Fane’s lax jaw carefully. “But how is it--?” 

This was equal parts intriguing and concerning. This day was proving to be a mixing pot. A boiling mixing point, that was.

Fane grimaced a bit, lifting one of his own hands to pinch his jaw around Solas’s hands, easing it back into place with a jerk. “Don’t know. It just does it.”, he muttered through the tenseness of muscles being pulled awkwardly. 

“You could have simply told me this, vhenan.”, Solas spoke in a whisper, absently stroking a reformed jaw slowly. He truly didn’t care if everyone around them was watching. This was more pressing than privacy. “Why was a duel your first course of action?”

“I know.. I just..”, Fane huffed harshly as he tried to get the words out, but his head only went heavy in Solas’ hands. “..I wanted to disprove it, to show myself it was just..a figment of my mind. I could only think of hitting it with a sharp blow. If it stayed in place, then I was mad. If not, then I could move on.”

“But Dorian himself had--”, Solas began before blinking, frowning. “Oh, Fane. What you just showed me was not monstrous.” He easily picked up on the quiet shame and dysphoria in sorrow filled emerald and gold - the color steady now. He knew the line of these words. Aside from not wishing to believe the action could be done, his dragon could not accept it without perceiving it as repulsive if it were true.

“What elf can unhinge their jaw, Solas? I don’t see you snapping it out like a piece of pottery from only eating.”, Fane growled out with agitation before his voice dropped with a pained rumble. “Then again, I’m not an elf. I never have been.” The softness entangling their minds took on a sharper undertone with that, making Solas move in a bit closer to glare up into shamed eyes.

“You are two sides of a particular coin, Fane. All the edges have not been unshadowed yet.”, he explained, lightly nuzzling the line of his jaw in a way that would appear unnoticeable before dropping his voice lower. “We do not know which side you resonate with more - physically and mentally. The only way to do that is to discover these quirks and accept them as they come.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better..”, Fane said with a sigh, gently leaning his head against Solas’s without much awareness.

“It’s not supposed to.”, Solas said with a shake of his head, pulling back a bit with a stern expression. “It’s supposed to make you think, so things such as this..” He reached up to tap his own temple, the link between them beginning to lessen the more he began to gingerly pull it away. “...do not become commonplace.” 

Fane’s expression went hard at his words, mouth drawn into a tight line before his eyes shut. Solas watched the shift carefully, knowing it indicated Fane was mulling over his words despite the clear exhaustion he could see pulling down ivory cheeks. 

It would appear that that blind use of his abilities was taxing. He thought, still gingerly stroking a side of Fane’s jaw, watching goosebumps rise at the touch with a hooded gaze. I cannot say I do not feel the same. This happened a few times before, but he had never tugged so hard as to control me. His mind continued to muse even as tiredness made itself known throughout his entire body. He was more exhausted than irritated. Perhaps he should feel upset at the fact Fane had manipulated him, but again, the cause was well meaning.

...As reckless as it had been.

“...Can we go somewhere private?”, Fane’s voice eked out in question, rumbling timbre a mere aftershock as it sounded. “There’s too many eyes here, and it’s..”, he trailed off, eyes shutting for a moment. “...too much. There’s questions in brown, curiosity in blue, disbelief in green.. I can’t filter them out without potentially losing it right now.”

Solas smiled a bit. “Say no more.”, he said, leaning up just a bit to lay a light, chaste kiss upon a corner of scowling lips before whispering and peering up into dark eyes. “And, if you are willing, I wish to examine your jaw.” It was imperative that they deduce if this newfound ‘ability’ was detrimental or purely benign.

Fane scowled more, but let out a heavy sigh in defeat. “...Fine.”

“It will not be intrusive, vhenan.”, Solas assured. “Merely an exterior examination, and perhaps a few ginger touches. Nothing more.” He would never invade Fane’s privacy in such a way, knowing it had already been done once before by malicious hands seeking power they couldn’t possibly understand, or rather, a complexity they couldn't fathom.

Fane stared at him for several moments before nodding slowly and averting his eyes sheepishly. “...Thank you.”

With that, Fane disconnected from him, gently guiding the hands upon his face away with his own and taking a step back. Solas let him go without another word, knowing that this was a necessary step towards his dragon stilling his own mind and emotions. He watched Fane recover the staves from the ground as well as completely ignore the whispering crowd that was seemingly adamant to stick around despite indications that the battle was finished. Solas let out a quiet sigh. Well, he supposed he should handle this.

...Or rather, have someone else handle this. After all, he had more pressing concerns than shooing away curious birds.

***

Fane did a dumb and literally did what Bull did, “Hit me with the stick, Solas.’ And when Solas more or less refused, Fane did a bigger dumb and sort of, kinda...manipulated the sky’s emotions to try and get what he wanted. *slinks away* 

Tagging (with all my love and hugs!) @noire-pandora @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @shift-shaping @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @drag-on-age @dreadfutures and anyone else I may have forgotten because I’m still siiiick~ (no pressure, of course! <3)