#gemstone smoking pipe

[satanachia666]

Self-Care: Satanachia's Rose Ritual 🌹

I created Satanachia’s Rose Ritual to attract the best things in life through self-care, which includes self-worship for many of us. This ritual involves calling upon Satanachia, blessing/charging rose body oil, and anointing one’s body with it as an act of self-love, self-empowerment, and self-worship. Anointing the body with rose oil helps the practitioner connect with and embody the beauty of a rose. Feel free to perform Satanachia’s Rose Ritual for self-love, healing, confidence, beauty, and attracting the most compatible people and opportunities possible to yourself. Be sure to choose a gemstone pipe that corresponds with your intention, or burn the herbs another way if you don't want to use a pipe at all. I deliberately left the ending part more open-ended so you can either do this ritual on its own or adapt it into part of a larger ritual. 

Items Needed: 

Black Candle for Satanachia

Lighter

Rose oil, love oil, or any other (preferably floral) body oil you enjoy

2 pink tealight candles - 1 for Satanachia, 1 for yourself

Rose incense (or another floral incense if that isn’t available)

A gemstone pipe packed with herb

A sweet, floral, or pleasant drink you enjoy 

Chalice

*Optional: A cauldron or bowl filled halfway with rose petals

🌹Satanachia's Rose Ritual

1. Light the black candle and say the following invocation to Satanachia:

Hail Satanachia!

Demon of the Moon, love, beauty, creativity, and freedom!

Grand General of Hell!

Infernal patroness of the planets and cosmos!

You are the dark and demonic muse of magic, pleasure, liberation.

By your infernal powers of the _____ moon in _____

and this sacred planetary hour of ______,

please join me in this ritual so I fully connect with you in body, mind, and soul.

Satanachia, I hereby attune to your infernal spirit his moment and onward.

May your power and wisdom shine within me and through me.

Thank you, Satanachia, now and forevermore.

So mote it be!

Then focus on invoking Satanachia and feeling their presence within/around you.

2. Light a pink candle and dedicate it to Satanachia as a fire sacrifice:

Hail Satanachia!

I’ve lit this pink candle in your honor.

Please receive this burnt offering as a sacrifice of fire.

May this fire burn as brightly as your brilliance and passion do in my life, this world, and the universe at large.

Thank you, Satanachia, now and forevermore.

So mote it be!

3. Light the rose incense and dedicate it to Satanachia as an air sacrifice:

Hail Satanachia!

I’ve lit this rose incense in your honor.

Please receive this burnt offering as a sacrifice of air.

May this smoke grace my physical and mental space with your inspiration and enlightenment.

Thank you, Satanachia, now and forevermore.

So mote it be!

4. Hold the gemstone pipe filled with your herb of choice and say:

Hail Satanachia!

I’ve packed this precious herb into this ______ pipe in your honor.

Please receive this burnt offering as a sacrifice of earth.

May the magic of this herb bring me prosperity and healing.

Thank you, Satanachia, now and forevermore.

So mote it be!

5. Pour the drink into the chalice and hold it up as you dedicate it to Satanachia.

Hail Satanachia!

I’ve poured this libation of _____ in your honor.

Please receive this infernal offering as a sacrifice of fire.

May this libation inspirit me with your intuition and love as I drink and digest it.

Thank you, Satanachia, now and forevermore.

So mote it be!

6. Thank Satanachia and state your ritual purpose:

Hail Satanachia!

Thank you for being so present at this ritual and in my life.

I have summoned you here to call upon your infernal powers of love, beauty, and healing:

Please bless and empower me with self-love so I find pleasure and fulfillment in my being.

By your infernal powers of the _____ moon in _____ and this sacred planetary hour of ______, 

I honor and love myself as a goddess.

I recognize my power and embrace it to the fullest.

So mote it be!

7. Light the second pink candle and dedicate it to yourself by saying:

I light this pink candle in honor of the love I have for myself. 

As this pink candle burns, my self-love increases and I embrace the pleasure myself.

May my beauty and confidence shine like this flame and the infinite embers of Venus.

By your infernal powers of the ______ moon in ______,

please heal, cleanse, and empower me with self-love.

Thank you, Satanachia, now and forevermore.

So mote it be! 

8. Hold the rose oil in your hand as you say:

Hail Satanachia!

You possess the infinite love, beauty, and healing powers of all the roses in the world.

Please cleanse, bless, and empower this rose oil with your infernal spirit.

Please cleanse, bless, and empower me as I anoint myself with this rose oil.

By your infernal powers, I embody the beauty of a rose.

I adore and appreciate myself, and attract compatible people who adore and appreciate me.

I flourish and bloom in my own way, at my own pace.

I love myself for who I am in body, mind, heart, and spirit.

As I anoint myself with this rose oil, I fully embody the beauty of a rose.

So mote it be!

Anoint your whole body with the rose oil. Feel Satanachia’s powers of love and beauty healing you through the rose oil. Visualize yourself glowing with Satanachia’s energy as pink light.

9. When you feel charged up with Satanachia’s energy, thank Satanachia:

Thank you, Satanachia, for the love, healing, help, and empowerment you’ve given me. So mote it be!

10. From this point on, you may do other magical or ritual activities. If you want to end the ritual right then and there, just ground and center yourself, then bid Satanachia farewell:

Thank you, Satanachia, for all of the love, healing, help, and empowerment. This ritual is now finished, but its results are complete, high quality, and eternal. So mote it be!

11. Optional: After you’re completely done with the ritual, scatter the rose petals somewhere outdoors nearby or somewhere special to you as an infernal offering to Satanachia.

Again, feel free to combine this ritual with other magical activities or rituals such as Satanachia's Shower Spell, Satanchia's Full Moon Ritual, or Satanachia's Venus Empowerment Ritual.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you deserve to love yourself and find joy in being your authentic self. You also deserve to have people in your life who wholly appreciate you and support you. I hope this ritual helps you feel good and attract good things into your life. ❤️

[greenyvertekins]

Since I'm bored, insomniac and have a thing for Skies of Arcadia right now, I looked into a source for item and weapon names and decided to translate the ones with notable differences to compare them to the names given in the English version of the game. It's pretty interesting!

Notable equippable item name differences;

Meditation Ring > Carved Wood Ring Gemstone Ring > Stone Ring Lovers Ring > Two-Ringed Ring Prophet Sand > Sand Ring Moondust Ring > Star Ring Jade Swirl Ring > Orb Ring Cupil Ring > Cupi Ring Warrior's Heart > Full Moon Ring Thief's Aura > Looper Halo Fortune Ring > Glacia Halo Warrior's Rune > Enigmatic Finger Puppet Defensive Aura > Enlightenment Bracelet Sandstorm Ring > Hemp Turban Assassin Ring > Afro Wig Stealth Ring > Zivilyn Bane's Mask Radiant Fur > Earmuffs Unseen Hand > Floral Hairpin Crescent Amulet > Crescent Moon Barette Gem of Purity > Wood Pipe Immunity Ring > Water Pipe Shard of Purity > Chamber Pipe Gilder's Amulet > Showy Lensless Glasses Slayer Ring > Unbalance Constitution Gem > Ki Stone The three items that can only be equipped to Gilder and Drachma are actually smoking pipes. I imagine they were changed due to the overall smoking censorship in this game. Notable Weapon Name Differences; Assassin Blade > Execution Cutlass Stone Cutter > Earthen Cutlass Dream Cutlass > Dream-Chaser Cutlass Suiran Blade > Mononofu Sword Windslicer > Soranchu's Sword Vorlik Blade > Ryu-Kan Oni-Beheading Blade Storm Blade > Curse Throwing Blade Sky Wing > Gull Wing Yin Wing > Magatama Throwing Blade Ice Splitter > Freeze Cutter Moon Wing > Wind God Wing Hook Hand > Key Claw Beak Hand > Parrot Arm Frostblade > Ice Sword Imperial Blade > Royal Sword

Interestingly, "Soranchu" is described as an adventurer from the past and their name is also given to an equippable robe.

SoA is also interesting in that there's actually translation gaffe's. Specifically the ship item "Apa Wax" uses the JP name of the Red Magic technique Increm. Which is why the wax has the same effect on the ship as Increm does in battle - Increase your attack power. Another gaffe is the name of the attack that the ship battle enemy Gadianos uses - It uses "Jedosa Ray" and "Jeda Beam". Jeda and Jedosa are the JP name of Eterni and Eternum, the Silver Magic techniques.

[peacock-mooncat]

♦ B A S I C S ♦

Name: Sierra bihn Gamduhla

Nicknames: Sie (to her friends), the Jewel of Thavnair (to her admirers), and goddess (to Ul'dahn elites with enough gil)

Age: Late 20s, early 30s

Nameday: 13th Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon

Race: Miqo'te, Keeper of the Moon 🌙☺️

Gender: Female 

Orientation: Pansexual

Profession: Adventurer, dancer, socialite

♦ P H Y S I C A L ~ A S P E C T S ♦

Hair: A dark, saturated purple with blonde streaks, kept at medium length with straight-cut bangs in front. Some of her blonde streaks are natural, but she likes to add a few herself.

Eyes: A vibrant red-magenta, with the trademark large moonkitty eyes 🥺

Skin: Rich brown

Tattoos/scars: A prominent scar runs across her left eye. No one has gotten her to say how it came to be, only that she considers it the fault of her own hubris.

♦ F A M I L Y ♦

Parents: Sierra never knew her father. She's descended from a long line of Thavnairian merchants; her mother is the current matriarch of her Keeper clan, and a decently successful merchant as well. Sierra doesn't talk about her too much, hinting that maybe their relationship is not cordial.

Siblings: Rhekka bihn Gamduhla is Sierra's much-younger, more-chaotic sister. Her and Sierra see eye-to-eye on very little.

Grandparents: Sierra's grandparents passed away before she was born.

 In-laws and Other:  Since she married Yrja, she's only got, uh, Fran and Balthier as in-laws. Well, technically anyway; it's likely neither of them know Sierra even exists.

Pets: Ingot, her Othardian Peacock! Sierra got Ingot when he was just a chick, and helped raise him. He grew quite a bit larger than she expected, and now helps ferry her across Etheirys.

♦ S K I L L S ♦

Abilities: Dancing, a bit of blue magic, hosting friends

Hobbies: Goldsmithing, reading Ishgardian romance novels, performing in minor events at the Carnivale

♦ T R A I T S ♦

Most Positive Trait: She tries her best to read a room and make everyone comfortable. Whether it's in a dungeon with fellow adventurers or relaxing with friends in safety, Sierra strives to keep spirits light -- sometimes to her detriment.

Most Negative Trait: Not all that glitters is gold -- gems, silks, and flesh fascinate just as well. While she normally has a good head on her shoulders, beautiful things make her weak. She's made some poor choices in life due to her greed for gil, due to a pretty girl's wink, or due to the promise of a rare gemstone.

♦ L I K E S ♦

Colors: Emerald green, deep purple, gold; jewel tones in general

Smells: Floral scents! The smell of Thavnair's markets, and of fresh-baked sweets

Textures: Smooth textures, especially fabrics. Silk is one of her favorites.

Drinks: Tea, though she's open and will try other drinks when the opportunity presents itself.

♦ O T H E R ~ D E T A I L S ♦

Smokes: She partakes of a smoking pipe every now and again in social situations, but it's not something she does on the regular.

Drinks: She drinks socially, and prefers tastier drinks to hard liquor.

Drugs: Not yet. Probably not likely, but the right one could pique her curiosity.

Mount Issuance:  Ingot, her Othardian Peacock! ... deja vu.

Been Arrested: Nah, Sierra is fairly law-abiding.

------------------ Thanks for tagging me @iona-xiv, this was really fun!! ☺️

A'ight, time to start tagging -- sorry if you've already been tagged, I tried to check first but I might've missed it! @tsunael, @starforger, @airis-ray, @cassandra-allegra (GIMME YRJA LORE); I am 100% positive there are people I am forgetting and I am so sorry, my brain is mush after this post haha

[xbittersweet-nostalgiax]

Ended up actually writing something about my farmer—a little ficlet, I suppose?

Also kudos to my dad for basically beta reading this and helping me with the poker stuff. (He's dyslexic and hates reading, so you know the man loves me lol)

FRIDAY POKER NIGHT

Only a few people in the saloon looked up as Roxanne entered, the sight of their new farmer familiar enough now that it was fall.

She stomped her boots a few times on the welcome mat, knocking off some of the dirt from the mines.

Roxanne could smell the warm cinnamon and allspice of the chef's special, pumpkin pie. She could see where Marnie already had a serving of it as Lewis wined & dined the rancher.

The farmer waved at Gus as she headed over to the table where Willy and Clint were already a couple of drinks deep and just in the beginnings of a poker game. Her bag thunked heavily as she set it down by her chair, full of resources and monster loot.

"Yer late, lass." Willy eyed the extra wild state of her hair and tired expression.

Roxanne groaned as she plopped down into the seat, tugging off her gloves, "Yeah, yeah, shut up and deal me in next round. What're we playing, what's the ante?"

Willy took a puff of his pipe, "We're playin' Five Card Stud, ante is twenty-five gold. "

Roxanne gave an affirmative hum as she took out a pack of clove cigarettes and lit one, waiting for the current round to finish.

She watched Robin and Demetrius dance for a bit, taking drags of her cigarette and letting the sweet smoke settle her.

Clint won the hand, then Willy relit his pipe before he shuffled the deck and dealt out.

Roxanne took the cards and added her coins to the middle of the table.

"I found a big vein of iron and I couldn't stand to leave it. Had a horde of blue slimes hanging around it, though." She explained, looking at her cards as Clint started the betting round. She had a decent hand, so she tossed a few more coins into the pile, "I raise five. One of these days Marlon'll sell me a sword that's worth a damn. This claymore just ain't cuttin' it anymore."

She tapped her boot against the two handed sword strapped to her bag.

Willy gave a reproachful sigh and added to the pot, "Aye, well, ye hafta show ol' Marlon ye can handle it. I'll raise five meself."

Roxanne waved him off and knocked her ash into the ashtray on the table, "Yeah, I know, I know. I'm just bitchin' to be bitchin',  I guess."

They were interrupted by a ruckus from the pool hall, Sebastian and Sam's voices raised as they disputed the game. She heard Abigail say something and then the trio emerged from the game room, still bickering even as they left for the night.

Roxanne huffed a laugh and took another pull, blowing out smoke as she mumbled, "Seems like the kids are havin' fun..."

"Clint?" Willy's voice drew her back to the game as he tried to get the blacksmith's attention, "Lad?"

Roxanne looked away from her hand to see Clint's attention being drawn over to the bar, following the busy swish of a red dress.

The farmer snorted and rolled her eyes, "Clint, quit gawkin' at Emily and focus on your cards, man. Bet's been raised, call it or fold."

Clint flinched, caught out, his face flushing as he stuttered, "Wh-what? I wasn't—"

"Yeah," Roxanne interrupted, drawing out the word while grinning roguishly, "Sure you weren't."

"Oh yeah, before I forget." She put her clove cigarette in her mouth, talking around it as she reached inside her brown leather jacket. She pulled a small velvet bag out of the inner pocket. It used to house a bottle of expensive whiskey, but now it held the treasures she found while spelunking.

She placed a jade on the pub table and slid it across to the blacksmith, "Here. Picked that up while I was down there, you like this sorta thing, right?"

Clint brightened as he took the gemstone, embarrassment momentarily forgotten, "Yes! This is exactly what I've been looking for!"

Roxanne nodded once and then turned to their fisherman friend, offering him a diamond from her little treasure trove, "That one's for you, Willy."

"This is great!" Willy accepted the jewel, admiring it in the saloon's low lighting, "If only me ol' Pappy was around. He’d go nuts for this."

"Glad you like it." Roxanne laughed before taking one last drag and stubbing the leftover clove cigarette out in the tray.

"Hi, Roxanne! Don't overwork yourself or you might end up in Harvey's clinic!" Emily had managed to sneak up on their table, meaning that Clint was now very focused on his cards, practically hiding behind them.

"Ain't nothing I can't handle." Roxanne assured Emily as she fished an aquamarine out of the bag for her, "Here, spoils of my adventuring."

"Thank you! I'm gonna put this under my pillow, and hopefully I'll dream about the ocean." Emily cooed over the round gem,  slipping the trinket into her dress pocket before addressing the table, "Another round, three this time?"

Willy smiled and nodded at the barmaid, "Aye, the night is young."

"I'll pay for this one." Roxanne interjected, waving away both men's protests, "I got a good haul today, fellas, let me get it."

"Three drinks, coming right up!" Emily chirped as she returned to the bar.

Clint finally resurfaced from his cards, expression gloomy, "I'm doomed..."

Roxanne snorted at his dramatics, "Would you calm down, man? You're making a big deal outta nothing."

"You talk to her like it's nothing!" Clint retorted, voice hushed, "How am I supposed to compete with that?"

Roxanne shrugged, tucking the velvet bag back into her jacket and leaning back in her chair, "Oh I dunno, man, how about actually talking to the woman? Ain't like she's gonna bite your head off."

"Every time I talk to her I just end up embarrassing myself!" Clint huffed, before he deflated, "All I want to do is impress her..."

Roxanne's playful expression turned serious and she sighed as she leaned back into the table.

"Dude, you've put her on this pedestal." She said, arching a brow, "Little hard to talk to someone when you're on the ground and you've placed them up so high."

"She is higher than me." Clint insisted, murmuring reverently, "She's a goddess."

"Sweet Yoba, Clint, she's a person." Roxanne snorted back an incredulous laugh. Her eyes wandered over to where Emily was fussing with the beer taps, "I guess I kinda get it though, she is a pretty cool person."

Clint gave a dreamy sigh, "Yeah..."

"Alright youngin's, enough moonin', let's get back to playin'." Willy cut in, all fond exasperation as he gestured to their game.

Clint had the presence of mind to look sheepishly chagrined, "Right, sorry..."

Roxanne just smirked, unashamed, "You still haven't called the last bet, Clint."

[rullakebu]

Island of Peludo (F/M, tickling, fur fetish)

The waves crashed against the dark hull as the tiny sloop ship rocked slightly from side to side, traversing the calm clear blue waters. ‘Midnight Horizon’ read at the rear. At the wheel Arthur, the new captain, corrected the course as he turned it gently. Taking in the sea air, he took a deep breath. It had been a long day of sailing the Caribbean, looking for easy targets to rob and plunder. The blonde haired man dressed in a black trench coat and a white flowing shirt had a clear heading in his mind.

Midnight Horizon was a small ship, a humble one for an ambitious pirate. After serving as a privateer for the Royal Navy and being given the boot, Arthur had sneaked into the harbor and captured the ship in the dark of the night. The ship was dark brown, almost black. Beige sails were hoisted in the masts, along with a menacing black flag. Decked with a few cannons the ship was equipped to defend itself against and attack smaller ships. Against a galleon, however, the ship was almost pathetic in size.

Arthur’s first mate Charles stood at the bow, watching for land. Arthur had recruited Charles after he had witnessed him win a bar fight. Charles fancied the pocket watch of another customer and took it by force. Deeming him as a capable man, Arthur had approached him. Together they had gathered a small crew loyal to the duo. Charles had long brown hair and wore a white shirt with a brown leather vest.

“Peludo, Peludo, Peludo…” Arthur murmured to himself with a breathy voice.

Peludo was a small island between Cuba and Jamaica, approximately the size of Barbados. Initially a Spanish colony, it had recently declared its independence from Spain. It had become a hub for trade. Everyone was welcome on the island. Spain had let the island go, not deeming it worth it to retake. It was a mistake, however, since after gaining independence, the inhabitants of Peludo discovered extensive deposits of gold, silver, and rare gemstones in the island's mountains and riverbeds. The island was led by one Theodora De La Cruz. A former Spanish noble, her father had spearheaded the independence movement and after his death Theodora had taken the reins.

“We’ll be rich soon, lads!” Charles yelled from the bow, promising great wealth and affluence for the crew.

Since gaining independence, Peludo had become a hub for trade and commerce open for everyone. Merely seeing this as an opportunity, Arthur and Charles had conjured up the idea of robbing Theodora and her prosperous town.

Arthur, the more cautious and strategic of the two, turned to Charles. "We need to be smart about this. Theodora De La Cruz isn't just any leader. She's cunning and well-guarded."

Charles nodded, his usual bravado tempered by Arthur's words. "Aye, but we've got the element of surprise on our side. No one would expect us to strike at the heart of Peludo."

“That be true, Charles,” Arthur responded, taking a quick drag from his pipe and blowing dark smoke into the air, the wind blowing it away.

“Land, ho!” Charles yelled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he pointed towards the distant silhouette of Peludo emerging on the horizon.

Arthur squinted at the island, his mind racing with the details of their plan. “Remember, we dock as traders. Keep your weapons hidden and your wits sharp.”

Arthur quickly sent the crew to lower the black flag. As they approached the bustling port, they marveled at the diversity of ships anchored there—traders from all corners of the world, lured by the island’s riches. The market was a vibrant tapestry of cultures, with merchants selling everything from spices to silks, and, of course, the precious metals and gems that had made Peludo so prosperous.

Arthur and Charles disembarked, blending seamlessly into the throng of people. They made their way through the crowded streets, their eyes constantly scanning for any sign of Theodora. The island's prosperity was evident in the well-maintained buildings and the general air of affluence.

Arthur and his crew traversed through the bustling markets and streets, hearing all kinds of dialects and tongues: Spanish, English, Creole, and others. The colorful stalls were filled with exotic goods, and the air was thick with the scents of spices and fresh fruit. Laughter and haggling voices added to the lively atmosphere.

“See all this? Think of how rich we’ll be tomorrow,” Charles whispered, cackling evilly to himself as he eyed the bustling market filled with valuable goods.

“Patience, Charles. We’ll be drowning in gold yet, but we must keep our wits about us and be smart,” Arthur responded, his voice steady and calm. He took a quick drag from his pipe, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air that quickly dispersed in the warm breeze.

Quickly, the crew found themselves in front of the town hall just on the edge of the market, the two-story Spanish colonial style building looming over the vendors’ shacks. The whitewashed walls and red-tiled roof stood in stark contrast to the vibrant, makeshift stalls surrounding it. The building's grandiose presence was a testament to the island’s rich history and current prosperity.

They saw a chariot being pulled by two massive white horses. The chariot's wooden wheels were accented by golden rims. The chariot itself was light blue and the doors were decorated with intricate carvings of sea waves and dolphins, giving it a regal yet nautical appearance. The golden trim glinted in the sunlight, casting dazzling reflections on the cobblestone streets.

Arthur and Charles exchanged a quick glance, recognizing the chariot as Theodora's personal transport. They moved closer, mingling with the crowd to get a better view.

The chariot came to a stop in front of the town hall, and Theodora herself emerged, her presence commanding immediate attention. She wore a dress of light blue, adorned with silver embroidery that caught the light with every step. Her dark brown hair curled down to her shoulders, framing her face elegantly. Ornate silver earrings dangled from her ears, catching the sunlight. Her hat was decorated with an array of blue feathers, their soft tendrils flowing in the wind. Draped over her shoulders was a massive baby blue fox fur stole, its luxurious tails hanging and swaying from each end.

Arthur and Charles watched from a distance, taking in every detail. Theodora's regal appearance and confident demeanor only reinforced her formidable reputation. As she moved through the crowd, she greeted the vendors with a graceful nod, her presence exuding authority and charm.

“She’s quite the figure,” Charles whispered, his eyes following the swaying tails of the stole. “But we need to focus on the plan.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes narrowing as he kept his gaze on Theodora. “Aye. We need to gather as much information as we can.”

They trailed her discreetly through the bustling market, blending in with the crowds of people. Theodora stopped at various stalls, speaking with the merchants and examining their goods. Her interest in the market was clear, but Arthur and Charles were more interested in the snippets of conversation they overheard.

“She’ll be gone tonight,” one of the vendors whispered to another as they passed. “Off to a meeting with the trade delegates. Her manor will be empty.”

Arthur's ears perked up at this. He nudged Charles, who grinned in response. This was the opportunity they had been waiting for.

“We’ll sneak into her manor after sundown.” Arthur declared, the plan slowly unfolding in his head. “We’ll send the others to rob the stalls and warehouses. You and I will take her house together.”

“Sounds like a plan, mate,” Charles giggled, rubbing his hands together in greed.

As the sun began to set, the duo made their way back to the Sea Serpent to prepare their crew for the night's endeavor. They reviewed their plan, ensuring every man knew his role. The ship bustled with activity as the crew readied themselves, each member knowing the importance of their task. The docks would serve as the primary distraction, while Arthur and Charles would strike at the heart of Theodora's wealth.

As night fell, Charles and his men moved through the darkened streets like shadows. They carefully picked locks and moved silently, taking only the most valuable items and avoiding detection. The market, bustling by day, was eerily quiet, and their work went unnoticed by the few guards and townsfolk still around.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Charles approached Theodora’s manor. The guards had thinned out, most of them stationed near the entrance or patrolling the grounds. Arthur led Charles to a side entrance they had scouted earlier, a small door partially hidden by ivy.

Behind the manor, they found a small shack nestled amidst the overgrown foliage. Inside, a ladder leaned against the wall, its wooden rungs weathered by time and neglect. Arthur and Charles exchanged a knowing glance, recognizing the ladder as a potential means of entry into Theodora's private quarters.

With practiced stealth, they lifted the ladder and carried it to the side of the manor. Arthur positioned it beneath a second-story window, ensuring it was stable and secure. Charles climbed up first, his movements agile yet gentle, making sure not to make too much noise.

Once Charles reached the window, he motioned for Arthur to follow. With a silent nod, Arthur ascended the ladder, his heart pounding with anticipation. He joined Charles on the narrow ledge outside the window, their breaths shallow as they prepared to breach Theodora's inner sanctum.

With a deft hand, Charles tested the window latch, finding it unlocked. He eased the window open, the hinges barely creaking in protest. Arthur followed suit, slipping through the narrow opening and into the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, they found themselves in a lavish bedroom, its furnishings elegant and refined. A four-poster bed dominated the space, draped with sumptuous fabrics and adorned with intricate carvings. Ornate dressers and cabinets lined the walls, their surfaces gleaming with polished wood and gilded accents.

With a sense of urgency, Arthur commanded, "Start checking the drawers."

Charles nodded, his hands moving swiftly as he began to search through the drawers of the ornate dressers. He rifled through them methodically, his fingers skimming over fine jewelry and objects in search of treasures.

As Arthur opened the doors to the cabinets, revealing the extensive collection of fur clothing, his eyes widened in disbelief. Full-length coats, hats, and stoles of different colors and sizes adorned the shelves, each piece more luxurious than the last. The soft, velvety fur shimmered in the dim light of the bedroom, casting a spell of opulence over the room.

"Sink me," Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of fur. He reached out, running his fingers over the plush material, marveling at its exquisite quality.

Charles, drawn by Arthur's excitement, hurried over to join him. Together, they sifted through the garments, their hands trembling with anticipation. Each piece seemed more valuable than the last, a testament to Theodora's wealth and status.

“Think how much we can sell these for,” Charles whispered, his eyes open in excitement.

"Filthy rich, we'll be," Arthur responded, his fingers caressing the sleeve of a coat, its soft fur yielding under his touch. He couldn't help but marvel at the luxuriousness of the garment, the sensation of the fur tickling his skin ever so slightly.

"Let's start packing them!" Arthur declared, pulling out two bags with a sense of urgency. He wasted no time in stuffing the fur garments into the sacks, his movements swift and determined.

Charles eagerly followed suit, his own bag quickly filling with the precious loot. The weight of their newfound riches hung heavy in the air, fueling their excitement and driving them forward.

"Did you see anything else?" Arthur asked, his gaze sweeping the room as he prepared to make their exit. The bags were filled to the brim with the elegant and opulent furs, their weight a tangible reminder of the riches they had acquired. There were some left on the floor, not fitting into their bags anymore.

“I found some jewelry in the drawer. I already stuffed me pockets,” Charles answered, stuffing his hand into his left pocket and pulling out a ruby necklace. He dangled it for a bit and then put it back.

Creak.

The duo heard a door open in the hallway beyond the crime scene. They looked at each other in shock.

“Theodora,” Charles whispered, his eyes open with terror.

"Aye," Arthur responded, his mind racing as he searched for a way out of their predicament. "Throw the booty out of the window, and then we'll climb down!"

"Good idea!" Charles agreed, his hands trembling as he hastily threw the bags out the window. They plummeted through the air, landing in a heap on the ground below. “I’ll go first!”

“Alright, but make it quick!” Arthur responded, shooing Charles with his hands and looking over at the bedroom door.

Step.

Step.

Step.

As Charles descended the ladder, Arthur kept a nervous watch on the bedroom door, his heart pounding with fear. Theodora's footsteps grew closer, each one sending a chill down his spine. They were running out of time.

Just as Arthur was about to make his escape, Charles suddenly pulled the ladder away, throwing it to the side with a clatter. Arthur's eyes widened in shock as he realized what his companion had done.

"What are you doing?" Arthur hissed, panic rising in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but it’s time I be captain. The Midnight Horizon belongs to me now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it,” Charles said, winking his eye at Arthur. The betrayal, the treachery.

"Mutiny! Traitor! Judas!" Arthur's voice echoed through the room, filled with rage and despair as he watched Charles grab the heavy fur-filled bags and flee into the darkness, leaving Arthur to face Theodora alone.

As Theodora and her guards closed in, Arthur knew that his fate was sealed. He had been outsmarted and outmaneuvered by his own companion, his dreams of wealth and glory shattered by Charles's treachery.

Bang!

As the bedroom door swung open with a resounding bang, Arthur found himself face to face with two of Theodora's guards, their swords gleaming in the dim light of the room. His heart pounded with adrenaline as he braced himself for the confrontation that awaited him.

With swift, practiced movements, the guards advanced into the room, their eyes fixed on Arthur with steely determination. There was no mercy in their gaze, only the cold, unyielding resolve of those sworn to uphold Theodora's will.

Arthur raised his hands, completely out of options. Surrendering was his only chance at making it out of this predicament. “I surrender!” Arthur sighed, looking down and a single tear falling from his eye.

He lifted his gaze and saw Theodora gracefully walking into the room, her baby blue fur stole swaying with each step. She scanned the room, glancing at the open cabinets and drawers. She saw the leftover furs scattered on the floor. Walking over to them, Theodora knelt down and lifted up a silver fox jacket. Theodora looked at it and dropped it to the floor once more. Rising up, she looked over at Arthur, whose heart was ready to beat out of his chest.

"¿Quién eres, hm? Who are you?" Theodora's voice was calm yet commanding, her words cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

Arthur swallowed hard, summoning every ounce of courage he possessed as he met her gaze head-on. "My name is Arthur," he replied, his voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at his insides. "I'm just a humble sailor, caught up in circumstances beyond my control."

He watched as Theodora's expression softened ever so slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in her eyes. But beneath her facade of composure, Arthur could sense the calculating mind of a ruler who saw through his facade and sought to uncover the truth lurking beneath.

"I... I can explain," Arthur stammered, his mind racing as he searched for words to defend himself. But try as he might, he knew that there was little he could say to absolve himself of the crimes he had committed.

Theodora regarded him with a cool detachment, her eyes narrowing as she assessed his every word and gesture. She was a woman accustomed to power and authority, unyielding in her resolve to maintain control over her domain.

"You may have intended to rob me," she continued, her voice soft yet commanding, "but you have failed. And for that, you will pay the price." She lifted her right hand, placing it on the shoulder of a guard gracefully and squinting her eyes and smirking to herself. “Llévalo al calabozo de las cosquillas.”

Not understanding Spanish, Arthur's heart raced as he was led away by the guards, confusion clouding his mind as he tried to make sense of Theodora's cryptic command. He couldn't understand the words she had spoken, but the look of satisfaction on her face sent a chill down his spine.

They reached their destination: a dimly lit chamber with stone walls and a single barred window. The guards shoved Arthur inside. Falling on his knees, he was lifted up and undressed. The guards peeled away his coat, shirt, slacks and boots, leaving him naked. They lifted his arms and attached them to shackles that hung from the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a padded metallic stool with stocks attached to it. One of the guards took Arthur by the legs and lifted them on it, securing his feet into the stocks.

Arthur was on his knees on the stool, with his wrists shackled to the ceiling and ankles restricted by the stocks. He tried swinging but the stool was too heavy. He wasn’t going anywhere. Arthur heard heels clicking and closing in on the cell. He saw Theodora making her way down the dungeon corridor, dragging behind her one of the bags that was dropped.

She stepped into the room, placing the bag just next to Arthur. "So, you thought it was a good idea to rob me, hm?" Theodora's voice was soft yet cutting, her words laced with an undercurrent of menace. Arthur could feel her eyes boring into him, piercing through his defenses with their intensity.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, his gaze fixed on the cold stone floor beneath him. He could feel Theodora's eyes on him, their gaze like daggers piercing through his defenses.

Arthur shivered as Theodora's fingers trailed across his chest, her touch both gentle and menacing. Her presence was overwhelming, and the cold air of the dungeon seemed to thicken with tension. "I'm sorry but that will not cut it," she said, her voice a blend of sweetness and threat. She continued to circle him, her hand never losing contact with his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

After finishing the round, Theodora stood before Arthur, taking in the sight of him bound and helpless. She took a hold of a single tail of her stole, brushing the soft fur under his chin. “Do you know what this place is, hm?” She trailed the stole under his chin from ear to ear. The fur teased his skin, sending tingles down his neck.

“N-n-no, madam,” Arthur admitted.

Theodora's smile widened at his response. She released the stole and moved behind him, her hands gently stroking his sides. Arthur could feel her breath on his neck, the proximity of her presence both comforting and terrifying.

“This is my tickle dungeon,” she whispered, her fingers starting to skitter along his sides.

“The Wha-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Arthur laughed, feeling Theodora’s tickling fingers on his bare sides.The light, rapid flicking of her nails was intense, and Arthur's body jerked involuntarily as he tried to escape the ticklish onslaught.

“That’s right,” Theodora continued, her voice smooth and sultry. “I bring people here to punish the poor criminals of my island. To torture them with teasy, tantalizing, torturous tickling. We do not have a prison but this space under my manor instead, designed to make offenders like you howl with laughter and beg for release.”

Arthur twisted in his binds, laughing and cackling to no end. Theodora’s wiggling fingers descended, targeting his sensitive waist line. “You have no idea how many people I’ve brought here to tickle and torment,” Theodora teased, her voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and menace.

Arthur’s laughter became more frantic as Theodora’s fingers explored his waistline. Each tickling stroke of her fingers sent electric jolts of sensitive torment up his nerves. Theodora had not tickled him for long, yet had him howling like he had been tortured for hours.

“I’ve had pirates, thieves, and all manner of scoundrels in these very stocks,” Theodora continued, her fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. “Some thought they could outsmart me, others thought they could overpower me. But in the end, they all learned the same lesson,” she teased in his ear. “Cross my trust and you get tickle, tickle, tickled.”

“HAHAHAHAHA! LET ME GO! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” He commanded but his pleas fell on deaf ears as Theodora continued abusing his sensitive waist, causing Arthur to twist and turn, but unable to evade the ticklish onslaught.

“I am afraid I am unable to fulfill your request, my ticklish pirate,” Theodora clapped back, her fingers never slowing. “You see, this is your punishment. You wanted to steal from me, and now you must pay the price in laughter.”

Arthur’s cheeks turned, realizing the severity of his ticklish predicament. He wasn’t going to be let go soon. He was Theodora’s to tickle and torture as long as she would like. Nothing would stop her from tickling him to death as punishment.

Theodora’s fiendish fingers traversed upwards, easing up on his waist. They traveled back up his sides, eliciting loud laughter out of Arthur. Taking a pause, Theodora concentrated her tickling at his sides for a moment, driving him wild with desperate ticklish howls, before traveling upwards towards his wide open armpits.

Theodora moved back in front of him, her fingers teasing his armpits. She stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching, the soft fur of her stole brushing against his chest, adding a layer of pleasant sensations to Arthur's already overwhelmed senses.

"You see," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, "this is what happens to those who try to take what is mine." Her fingers began to explore his armpits with renewed vigor, her nails lightly scratching the sensitive skin. “What is your name, hm?”

“AHAHAHAHAHARTHUHUHUHUHUR!” He answered, his cackling making it hard to form coherent words.

“Arthur?” Theodora repeated, her voice gentle, smooth and sultry. “Such a strong name, such a strong figure yet so sensitive and ticklish,” she teased, biting her lip and sighing gently. “Tan cosquilloso…”

Arthur’s laughter echoed off the tickle chamber’s walls, the sounds of desperation amplifying with each bounce. His laughter and pleas were like music to Theodora's ears, a symphony of his suffering that she conducted with expert precision.

"Yes, that's it," she purred, her fingers never ceasing their relentless dance over his sensitive skin, now focusing on his helpless ribs. "Let it out, Arthur. Let all that resistance melt away. Laugh for me. It tickles. Hace cosquillas, sí. Coochie coochie coo."

Her nails trailed down his ribs, electric jolts of ticklish agony coursing through his body. Arthur's muscles twitched and spasmed involuntarily, his mind a whirlwind of hysteria and exhaustion. Each touch was both a torment and a strange, humiliating pleasure that he couldn't escape.

The fur of her stole continued to brush against his chest and stomach with every turn, the softness a stark contrast to the relentless tickling that had left Arthur's skin tingling and hypersensitive. Even in his state, the sensation was surprisingly intense yet pleasant, a reminder of Theodora's power over him.

Theodora took notice of the stole caressing his chest. She slowly ceased her tickling, stepping back for a moment. As Arthur's laughter subsided, he became acutely aware of the soft fur against his skin, a welcome respite from the overwhelming sensations he had just endured.

"Enjoying the sensation, are we, Arthur?" Theodora's voice was playful, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the fur, tracing the intricate patterns with delicate precision.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It feels... nice."

Theodora looked over at the bag she had brought with her to the dungeon. “I see you were trying to rob me of my furs, Arthur. You and your friend…”

Arthur grinded his teeth at the mention of Charles, the treacherous scallywag. “Charles… the bastard… How did you get that bag?”

"I see the mention of your friend angers you, Arthur," Theodora remarked, her tone calm yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "We caught your friend at the gate. He couldn't get very far. We also captured your crew. They're here, in the dungeon, and a bit... preoccupied. My maids are... taking care of them."

Arthur's heart sank at the news of his crew's capture, his mind racing with worry for their safety. He knew that Theodora's maids were not to be underestimated – they were skilled in the art of tickle torture, just like their mistress, and Arthur feared what fate awaited his comrades in the dungeon.

"Now, the furs. What were you planning to do? Sell them?" Theodora's voice was calm, but there was a steely edge to it. He knew that she was not to be trifled with, especially when it came to her prized possessions.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were planning to sell them. We thought... we thought it would be an easy way to make some money."

"Mm, do you know why I have so many furs, Arthur?" Theodora queried, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "It's because they're symbols of indulgence, of lust, of decadence."

Arthur listened intently, curious about Theodora's motivations for collecting such opulent garments. He had always admired the luxuriousness of fur coats and stoles, but he had never considered the deeper meaning behind them.

"They're also symbols of power," Theodora continued, her eyes gleaming with intensity. "A woman in fur commands attention, demands respect. And I must confess," she added, her tone growing more husky, "I have a bit of a fetish for them myself. There's something about the way they feel against my skin, so soft, so luxurious."

Arthur swallowed hard, feeling a flush creeping up his neck at Theodora's suggestive words. He had never imagined that she might have a fetish for furs, but now, as he watched her caress the soft fabric with evident pleasure, he couldn't deny the undeniable allure of her confession.

Theodora reached into the bag and lifted out a long, brown, finn raccoon stole. She stepped closer to Arthur and brushed the stole against his inner thighs, tickling under his chin with her other hands. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Theodora brushed the soft fur against his thighs, shivers of pleasure spreading all over his lower body. He couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, his body responding instinctively to her touch. The fur brushed him ever so gently, causing his member to twitch a little in pleasure.

"Aye," he managed to stammer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I agree."

Theodora smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Bueno," she purred, her voice low and husky. "Because I intend to share with you how pleasurable, how intoxicating fur can be.” With that, she wrapped the finn raccoon stole around Arthur's shoulders, the soft fur enveloping him in its warmth. His skin tingled with pleasure as Theodora's hands stroked the stole, causing the fur to brush against him as well. She leaned in close to his ear again. “To show you what you were so ready to take away from me.”

She struck her fingers on his stomach, suddenly resuming her ticklish torment. Arthur was caught by surprise as he began to giggle once more. Theodora's touch was like lightning, directing bolts of pleasure racing through Arthur's body as her fingers danced over his skin. He couldn't help but laugh, the sensation both torturous and exhilarating at the same time.

"Yes, I'm not done with you just yet, Arthur. You haven’t been tickled and teased enough. I plan on driving you insane with tickles and arousal. I will tickle you and pleasure you with fur until you go mad," Theodora whispered, her voice dripping with mischief. She continued her ticklish skitters, her fingers carving short sensitive paths of tickle on his stomach.

Arthur’s laughter filled the dimly lit dungeon as Theodora's fingers tickled and teased him without mercy. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, leaving him breathless and wanting more.

“But don’t worry, Charles and the rest will receive just as thorough a tickling as you,” she consoled, her teasing words not helping his case. “But not so much pleasure on their part,” Theodora said, taking a hold of her stole and brushing it along Arthur’s twitching sex for a moment.

Arthur’s laughter mixed with slight moans as the soft stole caressed his exposed manhood, the pleasant brushing bringing about a growth spurt in his erection. Noticing his excitement, Theodora giggled and lifted her hat off her head. Forming a claw with her fingers, she stuck her fingers into the blue sea of ostrich feathers on her hat. She plucked a bouquet of long, soft feathers from her hat, her eyes twinkling with erotic mischief. Theodora brought the feathers closer to Arthur's exposed manhood, wiggling the feathers with each moment as they inched closer and closer slowly, teasing him with their wriggling tendrils.

Arthur bit his lip as he felt the feathers brushing against his groin, producing waves of ticklish feathery pleasure coursing through him. His erection throbbed with anticipation, straining against its confines as Theodora continued to tease him with her feathered touches. With her other hand she carried on with tickling his upper body, contributing to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. Arthur tried to stifle his moans of tickly delight, his arousal growing with each passing moment.

The fur stole hanging from his shoulders added to Arthur's pleasure, the soft hairs brushing against his skin as the stole swayed with his twitches and ticklish squirming. Each movement sent ripples of sensation through him, intensifying the pleasure of Theodora's touches and the feathers teasing his most sensitive areas.

Theodora giggled playfully as she leaned in close to his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin. "Tickle, tickle, tickle…" she whispered, her voice sultry and filled with erotic charge, as she blew gently into his ear.

She let up with the tickling on his upper body as she gave a fast ticklish flurry with her feathers, like a tickle hurricane, before pulling them away. The feathering had left his cock twitching and begging for attention. Theodora stroked it slightly with one pump before circling back behind him. She kneeled down by his feet as Arthur panicked, trying to see behind him.

Suddenly Arthur felt Theodora’s scribbling fingers on his bare feet. Squealing with laughter, he tried to pull forward, wishing to free his feet from the stocks. His feet were incredibly ticklish, and each touch conveyed waves of ticklish pleasure racing through him, driving him to the brink of madness.

But no matter how hard he struggled, Arthur was unable to escape Theodora's relentless tickling, his laughter filling the dungeon once more as she released a newfound flurry of tickle torture on his sensitive soles. With each scribble, Arthur's laughter grew louder, his body writhing as Theodora expertly exploited his most sensitive spots.

“Qué cosquillas tienes en los pies, Arthur,” she teased, knowing he did not understand Spanish. She knew, however, that he would understand the gist of what she had said. There was no language barrier in tickle talk. It would fluster him either way, reminding him of his ticklish trouble.

Her fingers explored his feet thoroughly. She tickled and teased across his arches, forwarding ticklish pleasure through him. She traced circles around his toes, eliciting squeals of laughter as she expertly exploited his most sensitive spots. She knew exactly how to make him squirm and giggle, her touch driving him to the brink of madness with its tantalizing intensity, knowing that she could reduce him to a helpless, giggling mess with just the touch of her fingers.

Theodora lifted her left hand from Arthur's foot, reaching for the feathers once more. Grasping a handful of soft, downy plumes, she held them aloft, a wicked grin playing on her lips as she prepared to resume her ticklish assault. She reached to tickle him behind his knees and the back of his thighs with the feathers. Surprisingly feather sensitive, Arthur jumped at the intense tingling sensations behind his legs. Theodora traced the feathers up, down and around the backs of his legs as she continued to ravage his feet with her tickling fingers.

“Does it tickle, hm? Do you like the feathers, Arthur? Are they ticklish on your legs? Is the tingling sensation you feel intense? Does it feel good, hm? Do you like being tickled, Arthur?” Theodora asked, her tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of seduction.

Arthur could only respond with laughter, his breath coming in short gasps as Theodora's feathers danced over his skin. Each stroke drove pleasure of tickling coursing through him, his body alive with sensation. His cock twitched from the erotic attention he was getting, dripping droplets of precum onto the stone floor of the tickle dungeon.

Seeing the droplets hitting the floor from under the stool, Theodora giggled. "I think you really like being tickled, Arthur," she teased, her voice dripping with tease and seduction. She continued to stroke him with the feathers as she separated them into two bundles.

Theodora rose up from his feet, feathering his legs and back as she stood up. She wiggled her feathers on Arthur’s sides as she made her way back in front of him, her movements graceful and seductive. With each stroke, she drove him to new heights of ecstasy, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

Theodora looked down at his cock, seeing it throb in need of her touch, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she observed his desperate need for release. With a slow and deliberate movement, she reached out her hand, her fingers trailing lightly over his straining length. “I think I’ll tickle you for a little bit longer. What do you think, Arthur?” Theodora's voice was a seductive whisper.

He squirmed and writhed in his restraints, his body aching for release as Theodora continued to torment him with her playful teasing. “Please,” he begged, his voice shaky from the non-stop laughter. “I can’t take more tickling. Just let me cum…”

“Aww, tan necesitado…” she teased, making a duck face with her lips. “Just a bit more tickling…”

With that she coupled the feathers again into one cluster. Almost looking like a feather sword, it was long and menacing, its soft feathers promising intense, arousing soft tickling for whoever was on the receiving end.

She stared at him, directly into his eyes, as she started to kneel slowly with the tickle sword in hand. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest, his body tingling with anticipation of what was to come. He squirmed in his restraints, his skin already sensitized from her earlier treatments, the thought of her feathered touch scaring him a little bit.

With a flick of her wrist, she brought it down upon Arthur's exposed manhood, the soft feathers teasing and tantalizing him with their ticklish caresses. Arthur could only gasp and moan in response, his body writhing and tingling as Theodora's feathered touch drove him to new heights of ecstasy. He lost himself in the sensation, surrendering completely to the pleasure of her ticklish torment as he verbally announced his arousal to Theodora.

“Kitchy kitchy, Arthur… Surrender to the tickle… Relajate… It tickles… It feels so good… It excites you, Arthur… It tickles…” she teased, getting into his head with her maddening tickle talk.

“It tickles… It tickles… It tickles… It tickles…” That phrase echoed in Arthur’s mind, repeating over and over and reminding him of his ticklish predicament. His whole body was on fire. Every nerve, every vein tingled with ticklish pleasure and arousal. He was so close. He was so damn close. He would give everything he had plundered over the years to Theodora just to climax. He would’ve given the Midnight Horizon to her. He would give anything. “It tickled… It tickled… It tickled…” He was going insane.

As Theodora lifted her tickling feathers from his cock, Arthur let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing slightly as the intense sensation subsided. He watched with anticipation as she reached up and lifted the stole from his shoulders, exposing his bare skin to the cool air of the dungeon.

With each movement, Theodora's graceful hands sent shivers down Arthur's spine, his skin tingling with excitement at her touch. He felt a thrill of anticipation as she peeled away the soft fur, revealing his naked form beneath in its entirety.

With the stole now removed, Arthur felt more vulnerable than ever, his body exposed and at the mercy of Theodora's desires. But even as he trembled with anticipation, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

With the stole in her hand, Theodora glanced down at Arthur's throbbing cock, her eyes lingering on his arousal before returning to meet his gaze. There was a wicked gleam in her eyes, a promise of pleasure yet to come.

She leaned over, spreading the soft, elegant, fuzzy finn raccoon stole slightly. With that, she wrapped it around his charged manhood, its soft fur wrapping it in a warm, intensely pleasurable cocoon.

Arthur moaned, his whole body tingling with pleasure as the luxurious fur caressed his sensitive skin. Theodora's touch was gentle yet firm, her fingers deft as she adjusted the stole to ensure maximum comfort and pleasure for Arthur. He felt a surge of arousal unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As Theodora began to stroke his cock with the stole back and forth, Arthur sighed a moan softly at the exquisite sensation. The soft fur glided over his sensitive skin, gently tickling and dispatching intense surges of pleasure flooding through his body with each gentle caress.

Lost in the moment, Arthur closed his eyes, allowing himself to be carried away by the sensations washing over him. With Theodora's skilled furjob filling him with fuzzy and slightly ticklish ecstasy, he knew that he was in for unparalleled pleasure and indulgence, all thanks to the exquisite touch of the fur stole in Theodora's hands.

“Let go, Arthur. Sink into the feeling of the stole on your cock. It totally engulfs you. You’re entirely wrapped up in my soft furs. It feels so soft and pleasurable. Its soft caresses are not like anything you’ve felt before,” Theodora whispered, her voice a sultry purr as she continued to stroke him with the stole.

Arthur's mind was filled with nothing but the intoxicating sensation of the fur stole, its softness enveloping him in a cocoon of pleasure. He let go of all thoughts, all worries, all inhibitions, allowing himself to be carried away by the sheer ecstasy of the experience.

As Theodora's strokes grew more intense, more urgent, Arthur felt himself teetering on the edge of release. With one final, electrifying stroke, he tumbled over the edge, his body convulsing with pleasure as he succumbed to the overwhelming ecstasy of his climax.

As Arthur spasmed with pleasure, the stole continued to stroke him with gentle, rhythmic movements, prolonging his climax and intensifying the waves of ecstasy coursing through his tickled and abused body. Each stroke routed streams of intense ticklish lust rippling through his body, drawing out his release and prolonging the exquisite sensation of bliss.

Finally, as the last waves of pleasure washed over him, Arthur let out a contented sigh, his body limp and spent from the intensity of his climax. He hung there, basking in the afterglow, his mind awash with a sense of euphoria and satisfaction.

Theodora looked at him, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she observed the blissful expression on his face. She leaned in close, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead before stroking his cheek.

"Sleep well, Arthur. I’ll go handle the punishments of your mates now. We’ll have so much more ticklish fun tomorrow," she whispered, her voice a gentle murmur as she turned to leave the tickle dungeon, leaving him to drift off into a peaceful slumber, his body still tingling with the lingering echoes of pleasure.

[candle-willowmint]

'Rrrru Lore

Her grimoire. Always, then different potions and remedies. A separated little bag for the herbs and flowers she may collects here & there. Some crystals & gemstones, depending her need & mood. Her smoking pipe with some blends. A memoquartz. And a poison phial.

[coffee-in-veins]

Day 1: Trick

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022

now available on ao3 too

Trick HERALDRY - sketch (a coat of arms) in outline, with the colours indicated by letters or signs.

* * *

It was a weird town. The one he spent his whole life in, and sometimes he felt as if that life wasn't even the first or the last one, and yet was determined to never remember much about it or the motley part of its denizens. It was easier that way, for everyone included - he didn't remember faces or names, opting instead to distinguish preferences and calloused hands that held his steel-bodied children, much like those who came in his spark-filled abode never bothered to remember his name. They came and went, sometimes never to be seen again, and yet he remained, a seemingly-integral part of Hamlet's mill that churned adventurers instead of grains; he remained to keep parchment sketches of their weapons and gear measurements in an ever-growing stash that, to him, was far more morose than hastily cobbled crosses added to the Graveyard.

How much of his craft remained in the Estate...? On most days, he was too dreadful to actually count. 

Especially so after the parchment pile reached his waist.

The morning was still young and ripe for work when the door creaked, distracting him from tending to his forge. He took the gloves off and, to retain the dilapidated veil of politeness, wiped his calloused hands before offering one of them to the weapon which returned to his heated domain.

"Straight dirk, diamond cut, wedge profile. Custom pistol, guilder-rose engravings in silver," those weren't easy to forget. They've been here for a while, enduring longer than most. And while the blade was fixed and re-forged many times, the pistol has been guarded fiercely, and the most that the smith had the pleasure to do for it were the intricate hand-engraved carvings, based on provided sketches. Still, he knew the Dirk-and-Pistol good enough to chuckle, puffing out pipe smoke. "Isn't it too early for you?"

The recurring weapon wrinkled his once-broken nose - or at least, that part of it that the smith could see.

"Don't rub mo' salt in m'wounds, old man. Getting up at the ass-crack o' the day was bad enough."

Lush beard and moustache hid smith's smirk. The sun was up for a few hours at the very least, more than enough for him to start working on yet another blade, but he saw no reason to argue. Instead, he turned his hand palm up, waiting for the Heiress' crest to be dropped there. This set of arms was one of her bloodsucker hunters, and those always got good gear. He even started thinking about what could be changed in the blade to make it more efficient when a splash of colour interrupted his calculations.

Gemstones. Curious, he moved to his table and added oil to the lamp, watching as the glassy glint shimmered and shone against his blackened fingers, too clean to even be here, really, amidst the soot and mud. Part of the personal cut. So the request was from the man - not Heiress' weapons.

Peculiar.

He looked up from the gems, meeting the heavy gaze of dark bloodshot eyes. The expression was subtle, but they both had to deal with each other for long enough to understand some things without stating the obvious.

“Good. Now listen, I feel like I had to learn t’ spew fucking eldritch t’ convey this all t’ ya, so maybe ye’ll understand mo’ in this bullshite.”

“You have my curiosity.”

Dirk-and-Pistol... no, the man with them stepped forward, placing a piece of parchment near the lamp. The smith squinted to hide his surprise as he took in the sketch and the letters tricking it. Not satisfied with his lack of immediate response, the man continued:

“Party per pale Or and Sable, a lion rampant counterchanged, bordure Argent. The shield is eared top, French base. On top of it, affronted Argent knight’s helm crested with horsehair plume Gules.”

The description matched, which was even more peculiar. He wouldn't have assumed a brigand knowing blazon.

“Anything else?”

The man rubbed his temple in an obviously tired gesture and nodded after a moment:

“Two swords saltire, Argent.”

“Where?”

A finger in a battered red glove tapped another sketch, rougher and smaller, beneath the proper one:

“Behind the shield.”

The smith hummed, taking his own charcoal pen and after an affirmative nod from the thug, added his own notes to the parchment.

“Unusual.”

“Tell me ‘bout it,” the man grumbled in the tone of someone who was done with the world's bullshite about half of his life ago. "Should be 'bout a palm in size. We have a deal, ol' man?"

The smith nodded absentmindedly, checking the waiting list:

"Come back in a month," but a bag of coins landing on it cut his comparison short. He looked up again, only to be immediately met by irritation and a hand pressing the trick down and pushing it right in front of the smith with pointed stubbornness.

"Befo' All Saints day."

Now the crest made a bit more sense, even if the deadline was looming.

"The Long Crusade."

His only answer was tired grumbling.

They looked each other in the eye for a long moment, the weaponsmith made more impartial than even Death by his craft and the weapon he was suddenly reminded of having a fatal flaw of being a human.

Barely three minutes later, the brigand had already left. The smith held the parchment with the trick, eyeing the lines of something so unlike his usual orders. There was a bitter understanding somewhere on the bottom of his grey head that sooner rather than later, this parchment will meet others in the pile of "discontinued" order lines that were slowly devoured by time and dust.

Still, he thought, selecting the blank.

Still, this could let him see people again instead of inanimate weapons.

If only for a little bit.

[undercity-merc]

Someone had driven Sevika out of The Last Drop.

Jinx had already grown suspicious when she spotted the brutish bear and the old gang in the abandoned cannery. Her suspicion had flamed up into shock and anger when she had found The Last Drop, changed from what she had been used to. The large, neon-pipes, shaping The Eye of Zaun above the entrance had been ripped off and smattered on the ground. All that was left of their destruction, had been shards of whitish plastic in the street. There was also no bouncer anymore, though Jinx spotted dried-up blood near the door.

What was worse: There were lights behind the windows. Warm lights and the laughter of people. That new owner had already taken root in the place, which belonged rightfully to Silco and his old crew. Now that Jinx thought about it: The territory had fallen apart a touch. No more strengthening patrols near its borders. No more clear flow of Shimmer in the street. Someone had taken everything away from her in a heartbeat - and she had not even noticed!

Her heart hammered in her chest and her breathing increased. Her skin stung like she had touched a nettle bush. "Alone, alone, alone. You are left alone and behind." Mylo's incessant whispering caused her pupils to dilate. "Serves you right, you Jinx!" Magenta bled into the corners of her vision. Jinx buckled over, clutching her head. Her teeth clamped upon one another, spit dangling between them. Whoever thought they could get away with such an action, was going to pay for it!

Starting with the loss of their front door!

Jinx ripped Fishbones off her back and hoisted him over her shoulder. Lining the rocket launcher up, the Loose Canon locked teary eyes upon the door. Fishbones had been fed with plenty of rockets and not all of them were as devastating as the Super Mega Death Rocket with which she had blown up the council over three years ago. The Hextech gemstone glowed, making Fishbones' eyes shine brighter and his ribcage expand as she started to breathe. Smoke curled around his sharp fangs. Then finally, in a blaze of powerful light, Jinx hurled a small missile at The Last Drop.

The rocket exploded as soon as it made an impact on the entrance door. A deafening bang rumbled the very foundations of the building. A brief fireball surrounded the door before smoke bloomed out of a massive hole, which had not just taken the door but also its frame. A scorch mark covered the floor to some extent. The first two desks had been snapped like twigs and seared. The smell of burning flesh filled Jinx's nostrils, telling her that at least some people had been caught in the blast radius of the rocket. She ignored the potential meal as she advanced into The Last Drop, Fishbones propped up on her shoulders, his gaze matching hers in fury.

"Alright!", Jinx shouted, "Who of you gutter rats owns this place and dares to desecrate it?!"

It was another quiet night at The Last Drop. Just enough patrons to justify keeping the doors open, and never a lack of people looking for a stiff drink. Operation had been moving rather smoothly since Vi torn away the ugly signs and even uglier presence that Silco and his goons had filled the bar with in her time away. She wasted no time in tearing away all of that garbage, and polishing the hidden gem of the old rustic bar. Rumor already bumbled around, this Hellhound of the Underground being Vander's prodigy, how the new barkeep even took a name that echoed her adoptive father's title in her own way. Vi felt right at home around the clinking of glasses and the joyful laughs of the patrons. Standing at the bar, the mercenary swiped her bar rag through another bowler glass and set it against the counter, fishing out a bottle of scotch. She swept it up with easy hands and poured the Bilgewater export into the the glass, serving it neat to one of the inebriated consumers sitting at the bar. Just as she moved to put the bottle back, she felt.. Strange. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and there was a sudden pit of dread in her stomach. Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, only to find her mouth to be sucked dry as well. She glanced around quickly, finding nothing out of place. It didn't feel like an episode, so what the hell was happening? She opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by the sudden blast of an inferno.

The explosion that came from seemingly nowhere was strong enough to rock the very foundation of the bar, the ceiling quivering and dropping particles of dust down, and the first two round tables were engulfed by the blue plume of shimmering smoke. Vi instinctively brought her hands up to defend her face, but she was too slow. A metal band fired off from the hinges and knocked the brawler right in the face, ripping an ugly gash across her cheek and the bridge of her crooked nose, not far below her eye. She dropped to the ground and clutched at her face, hot and panicked breaths escaping her for a moment. She drew her right hand back and stared at the hot blood gathered against it, before she swiped it on her shirt an shoved her hands into the Atlas Gauntlets behind the bar top.

She drew a breath in to steady her mind as five distinct scents hit her nose. Blood. Gunpower. Sulfur. Flesh. Smoke. Patrons screamed and panicked, and Vi knew she had to act. Who the hell had just blasted a gaping hole where her front door had been previously been?

"Hey asshole, I didn't ask for a remodel!" Vi called out as she jumped the bar suddenly, looking to the patrons who were panicking. She tried to not pay any mind to the four who laid dead on the floor. In a quieter voice, she regarded them. "Back door. Get the hell out. We're closed for the night." She whispered, watching them scramble, before she brought her defensive stance to the door, blading her body. She watched with bated breath as the figure slowly emerged.. And her silvered eyes shimmered with a hint of blue.

"Pow-pow?" The name left her lips in a disbelieving tone, and her fists dropped suddenly. No, no, not now. Her gaze only softened for a second, before she drew her brows in and raised her hands again. Her scarred lip drew into a scowl. "The asshole who desecrated this place the first time 'round is dead. What the hell do you think you're doing?" She hated how her voice trembled. She never wanted to talk to her sister like that. But.. Was she still her sister? She was Jinx now, and Vi failed to kick those delusions out. Silco ruined her, and she feared she was too far gone. Even though Vi had her gauntlets on, her fists up... Her certainty wavered.

[devacrystals]

Crystal science popularization. How to purify and activate crystals

Cleaning the crystal is essential to maintaining the healing properties of the crystal and maintaining your intent.Cleanse them regularly to keep them shiny and vibrant.

So how do you clean and activate crystals?

Smoke

Smoking and purifying the crystal can make the crystal get rich energy for a short time.Choose a stick of sage (preferably white sage from the holy Land of Southern California) and dip the crystal into the purifying smoke to either cleanse the crystal for the first time or reset its energy to serve you better.

Suitable for gemstones: Most crystal and semi-gemstones

2 Burial

The earth is the great mother Earth, and the crystal is originally grown in the soil. Return to the mother's embrace and place the crystal in the soil for 12 hours to recharge and get energy and reset.The soil outside is the best. If the condition is not up to it, you can bury the crystal in the soil of indoor potting plants.

Suitable gemstones: obsidian, barite, tourmaline, agate

3 Sunshine

All things grow by the sun, the sun represents the positive energy.We can put the crystal in the sun for more than three hours to burn off the old energy and replenish the new energy.A transparent crystal ball placed in the sun should be careful to generate an open flame, because the transparent crystal ball has the effect of concentrating light.

Suitable gemstones: topaz, sun stone, tiger's eye stone

4 Moonlight

Shine the crystal in the moonlight all night and bathe in the moonlight, so that the crystal can have a good rest and relaxation.Dreams can also be projected into crystals (I won't say more about that here, but I'll talk about that later).Suitable gemstones: moonstone, pulled feldspar, chalcedony, through gypsum

5 water

The best choice is wild flowing mountain spring water. The ancient cloud crystal - the spirit of water. When we purify and hold the crystal with water, it will increase the emotional properties.Do not use fresh water from the tap to clean the crystal, as it has been disturbed in the pipe. Leave it in the container for at least 10 minutes to reduce the agitation of the water and leave it in its natural state.

Suitable gemstones: aquamarine, sea grain stone, jasper, turquoise, blue agate

You can check it out

[darkhideoutshop]

Witchy black Obsidian gemstone smoking pipe now available! 🚬🖤 Shop at www.darkhideout.com

[faizahnaeem]

[jess--themess]

Hazy sunny spring afternoon 😍🌞😎🍃

[lulukento]

I’m in love with the labradorite 😩

Three more types ready for preorders and their new homes 💕

These will be $26.50 shipped!

[pastell-moon]

smoking with toga + getting accustomed to to league

IMPORTANT INFO + SUMMARY!

i love it here cus none of us are snitches. i love y’all + who isn’t getting high at 17 (and if ur not it’s ok bby. i’ve only started smoking as of recently and i still never thought i was gonna, but even so, no one has to smoke if they don’t want to)

n e ways im high at 17 and would kill to smoke with toga 😭 but bc this is kind of going down the dabi route you’re an adult here

this is self indulging cus someone close to me got deported 🙄💔

⚠️CW: OUID, 🍃 DRUGS, TRIPPINESS, SWEARING

ミ✭ . ・ ★彡 . ⋆ ・ ✵彡 • . ・⋆ ミ☆ • ｡ ⋆ 彡

”toga, you’re 17!” you exclaimed. she giggled.

“and? you’re not 21 either.” you snatched one of her pillows and got comfortable on her bed, still sitting up to face her.

“okay, but at least i’m an adult!” you defended.

she stuck out her tongue, then went back to getting her things ready.. “c’mon, y/n. don’t be a wussy. it’s just us two! i never get to have fun with other girls anyways… it’s to welcome you into our group!” she finished up and held out the ready to use small pipe.

“our group being an organization of villains.” you playfully said as you took it. it was pink and purple with some gemstones on it. “and you fail to consider the fact that i’m illegal as well.”

she pouted. “no human is illegal, big sis.”

you raised the pipe to your lips and took a hit.

“it just feels like a regular cart, right?” you asked as you exhaled the smoke into the room.

“carts? the one with buttons, right?” she asked as she shoved one of her magazines off the bed.

“yeah.”

she giggled. “i’ve only had one of those. these hit way harder.”

“really?” you frowned. you handed her the pipe, nervous now. “toga, we’re allowed to do this, right?”

“are we allowed to slaughter whoever we want? no! do i do it anyway? sometimes!” she laughed.

you cracked a smile. maybe you could continue doing what you were doing too. “so, they don’t care?”

“uhm… nah. mr. compress and shigaraki just complain about the smell sometimes though.”

“and the others?”

“they indulge in it. villains gotta relax somehow, right? like dabi’s super good at hiding that he’s a stoner at night. yeah, he really likes indica. not me though, i like to go crazy with sativa.”

she took another hit of her pipe. you stared at her impish face inhaling smoke.

suddenly, she turned around and blew her smoke at you. you gasped and waved it away.

she pouted. “c’mon, have fun, y/n!”

“i am.” you whined. “im just scared. haven’t done this in a while.” you leaned against her wall on the bed and waited for the drug to hit.

“you’re a villain now. who cares?” she said as she shoved the pipe to your hands. as soon as you were exhaling, you passed it back to her and coughed.

“i guess. toga… pass me my juice.” she reached over to the nightstand.

you used all your strength and concentration to hold your cup. with shaky hands you took a sip.

you could feel a grin start to form as the effects kicked in. toga laughed and continued on.

“fuck… toga, i haven’t done this in a while. but… when i was 17...” you laughed. she grinned and turned to look at you better. “i don’t get why i was scolding you earlier, because when i was your age, i was busy getting high too.”

“you say that like you’re a granny…” she giggled. “you’re only three years older than me, just like dabi.”

“i guess.” you sulked.

you two kept smoking for a while. eventually, you were having laugh attacks and covering your mouths to avoid being too loud. you were recovering from laughing at another joke when suddenly, toga’s face turned solemn.

she dug her hands in her lap. “i’m hungry.”

“toga.” you said with a grin, though your voice was low and warning. “toga… you didn’t explain if they're okay with us doing this.”

“sometimes…”

you both stared at each other, the world around you feeling unreal. the severity of the situation couldn’t hit you even if you wanted it to. you could feel your eyebrows furrowing with worry as you fought the effects, but then toga began to slowly smile. you pushed her away before you could laugh again.

“some…times? toga!!!”

she covered her mouth and rolled over, laughing.

“toga…” you grabbed her shoulder and arm and shook her. “toga… stop!”

“y/nnn!” she cackled.

“toga… bro… i don’t even know if we should be doing this.” you put a hand up to your forehead, slowly becoming frustrated. “toga…!”

you both began to laugh, although you a little bit more panicked.

“toga. seriously.” you said through a smile you were fighting back. you couldnt focus on anything. your body felt wobbly and everything was funny. “we’re gonna get in trouble…. and i’m hungry now, too.”

she sat up. “mkay… then how about… we just don’t get caught? and we get food?”

“hmmmm…” you sat criss cross applesauce and puckered your lips, tapping your chin and feigning yourself debating whether to go or not. toga snatched your arms and stood you up.

“okay then.” you laughed.

“one more hit first though…” toga said mischievously as she relit her pipe.

“you fiend.” you spat playfully. she swallowed her laughter and passed it to you. you took a big rip and immediately began to cough.

“oh no… toga, took too much.” you choked and crouched over the bed. she smashed your face into a squishmallow as you mercilessly coughed into it.

you got back up and tried to glare at her, but you were GAWN. you immediately began to laugh. she grabbed your face suddenly.

“y/n, let’s be sneaky. you’re getting hyper.”

*what…?“ you smiled stupidly. “oh, my bad, toga.”

she let go of you. suddenly,  you were in the kitchen, laughing at the open fridge. toga huffed. “that fatass dabi ate everything. again.” she picked up the gallon of milk like nothing. soon enough you realized it was because it was empty. “i’m killing him.”

your eyes widened. the look in her eyes made you want to sober up, but… it was funny. “toga.” you whisper yelled. “no… no! i’m too high for you to act like this.” suddenly, you remembered you were in a literal criminal hideout.

“it’s okay. i’ve done this before. what will they do anyway? yell at us using weed? when we’re killing people everyday?” toga joked.

“they’re trying to sleep, to have energy to kill those people, jackass.” you pointed out. she rolled her eyes.

“c’mon. i’m hungry. maybe dabi will walk us to the corner store.”

“t-toga, no!” you panicked. the hot villain guy? the one who’s your exact same age? “i don’t want him to see me like this!”

“he’s probably high too. if he is, we’re lucky. he’s nicer when he’s high. i never like going to the store without somebody who will kill if they have to for me anyways.”

you processed her words as she dragged you to the hallway, to the end of the corridor. you stomach flipped as she knocked on the door like nothing. quickly, you got up, trying not to babble nonsense.

you heard some shuffling and stuff getting kicked around. the doorknob jiggled, and then the door opened.

“huh… what do you want?”

“dabi. i’m hungry.” toga answered bluntly.

he raked a hand through his hair. he wore a white tank top and dark gray sweatpants. it might’ve been the weed, but he looked extra handsome in a rough and ragged way.

suddenly, his eyes landed on you. you felt your heart drop as his eyes went up and down your crazed figure. his eyes narrowed, but he looked amused now. “you too now, huh.” he turned to toga. “so i just take you to the store again and you’ll leave me alone?”

toga nodded. “cor-rect!”

“fine. let me put on my shoes.” and he closed the door on your faces.

toga pulled you to her room. “what did he mean by me now too?!” you questioned as soon as she closed the door.

“i don’t know. he was definitely high. and- why don’t you ask him? didn’t think i would notice you being all shy and cute around him, huh?~” she giggled.

“what?” you questioned defensively, your voice cracking. no way. you hadn’t meant to come off that way. “i am not- im just sweaty, awkward, and high!”

she turned around with her relit pipe in hand, smoke falling through her lips. she set it down on her nightstand.

“i know, y/n, chill! geez.” she pouted. she sauntered up to you and grabbed your warm face, her golden eyes glittering mischievously. “i was just joking around since everyone’s been thinking about it. you guys are both around the same age, single, and deranged!” she blew her smoke in your face, her hands tugging lightly at the roots of your hair.

you grabbed her wrists and glared up at her as best you could in your dizzy state. “toga…”

she pulled away and handed you her pipe. “here. just to take the edge off. you don’t need to impress anybody anymore.”

you sighed in protest but put it up to your lips anyways. “this stuff is really strong, toga.”

“shigaraki lets us get nothing but the best down here.” she giggled.

you leaned against toga as you exhaled the surprisingly sweet smoke. “never had it this good.” you breathed out. toga laughed and steadied you by your shoulders, squealing in delight.

“welcome to the league, baby!!!”

[spxllcxstxr]

Butterbeer • S.B

(GIF not mine)

Request: (about Firewhiskey) Love this and would love a part 2...??!!! 👌🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Part 2 to Firewhiskey: the Hogsmede date

Warnings: Butterbeer, implied Sirius running away to the Potters

Word Count: 848

A.N: Again, this is kinda stupid, but it’s like stupid fun. Nothing serious. First dates are hard to write, obviously.

****

You spot Sirius leaning against the fountain, waiting for you, the morning of the next Hogsmede trip.

His black hair is tied back, loose strands waving in the cool spring breeze. A brown leather jacket rests heavily on top of his shoulders, patches of worn beige at his elbows. It was something he started wearing after he began living with the Potters.

Sirius’ ankles are crossed and he’s twisting the ring on his thumb, a habit of his you’ve been noticing recently.

Instinctively your smile grows as you approach, sneakers slapping against the stone slabs.

Sirius glances up, twinkling eyes meeting yours.

“Ah, she finally arrives!” He teases, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lips upturning into a smirk.

You push some stray hair behind your ear and duck your head in embarrassment, smile faltering. You were only late because you couldn’t stop fixing and critiquing every aspect of your appearance in the mirror. Marlene was the one that finally pulled you out of your dorm and into the courtyard.

Sirius perks up, presumably sensing your discomfort.

“Ah, well you can’t rush perfection, can you, love?” He holds out his hand, the one with the silver ring, as an offering.

You bite the corner of your lip, heart skipping a beat at his words, before taking it, fingers interlacing. The cool metal on his thumb meeting warm flesh.

“Guess that’s why you were so early.” You taunt, connected hands swinging slightly between your two figures as you walk to the village.

“Blimey,” He gasps, insulted. “you’re relentless.”

You hum in response, occasionally bumping his shoulder with your own. The smell of fresh flowers and morning dew drifts through the breeze.

The two of you wind up in the Three Broomsticks, two glasses of butterbeer between you, his with a pinch of ginger mixed in.

As usual, the tavern is completely overcrowded, brimming with obnoxious laughs and petty arguments.

Your eyes wander for a split second before making their way back to your date.

For a moment, you swear you see a glimpse of James Potter sitting at the opposite end of the room, but when you blink, he’s gone.

The Three Broomsticks is warm, almost overwhelmingly so, and the sound of converging conversations, clinking dishes, and the crackling of the fire is atmospheric and welcoming. The smell of pipe smoke is thick in the air. You watch as Sirius breathes in deeply, probably aching for a cigarette. He never takes one out, though.

With no idea how to continue your conversation from the stroll through the village, the two of you pick up your butterbeers.

Sirius winks at you over his glass, causing you to fidget in your creaking seat.

However, when he finally sets his glass down, the awkwardness of the situation dissipates.

Sirius Black has a white foam mustache smeared across his top lip.

You almost choke on your beverage, and you struggle to keep it down and not spit it out all over your date. Eyes widening, you cover your mouth, trying to muffle your snicker.

You don’t know how he doesn’t notice it, it’s dripping off the corners of his mouth.

“What?” He asks, completely unaware.

Your teeth snap down on your cheek trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“Are you laughing at my face again?” Sirius presses further, leaving over the table.

Shaking your head, you swallow down a laugh.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your voice wavers.

Your eyes flit around his face, always landing back on his foam mustache. How can he not feel it?

His eyes narrow.

“Is it because I’m ugly?”

“I never said you were ugly.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Sirius snarks. “Just funny lookin’. Because that’s better.” The foam really starts to drip down the corners of his mouth.

“So what’s that ring?” You cough out, attempting to change the subject before you burst out laughing.

He twists the ring in his finger again, the ruby glimmering in the candle light.

“Mr. Potter gave it to me for my birthday. Like a new family heirloom.” He explains earnestly, voice softer.

You reach out and touch it, the smooth gemstone cold to the touch.

“It’s beautiful.” You state simply.

His stormy grey eyes linger in his ring before glancing around the room.

“Why is everyone staring at me? I know I’m fit, but usually they don’t point directly at me.”

You look around the tavern as well, and sure enough, everyone’s eyes seem to be trained on Sirius’ face, and fingers seem to be directed at his upper lip.

Sirius’ hands fly up to his face, searching the skin for any blemishes.

“Am I really that—“ His fingers stop at the foam. Raising his eyebrows, he slowly lifts his eyes to meet your own. Once again, your hand moves to cover your smirk. “Were you ever going to tell me I had a butterbeer mustache?”

You shrug. “I thought it was an improvement.” You shoot him a look of innocence.

Quickly, he wipes his upper lip on a spare napkin. “You’re so hilarious.” He states sarcastically.

“Beats being funny lookin’.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

[silveriken]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.

tagged by: the dash but i stole this from hana’s blog

tagging: i stare at everyone who hasn’t done this...

REPOST,  DO NOT REBLOG,  with the information of your muse,  including headcanons.

NAME. asugi akaharu

NICKNAME(S). none, yet.

ALIAS(ES). saizo.

AGE. 18

SPECIES. human

ZODIAC. capricorn

GEMSTONE. garnet

MORAL ALIGNMENT. chaotic neutral, a heavy lean on the good side.

ABILITES / POWERS. stealth. excellent precision and accuracy. flexible ( mental and physical ). above average strength and speed. manipulation through methods of speech and service. gathering information without much struggle. great footwork.

INTERESTS.  cute things, carrying his friends wherever, jump rope, SWEETS, painting nails ( either his or his friends’ ), baking, trying on perfume, napping when he’s not supposed to be, styling hair, origami, sketching ( no one has ever seen his sketchbook ), sharpening weapons, training.

FEARS. losing function of his hands / taste-buds, dishonoring his father’s legacy, rejection, assassinations ( directed at his friends rather than himself ), failing to protect a friend in battle.

GUILTY PLEASURES. he’s quite confident in himself to not be ashamed of whatever he enjoys doing. with this being said, he really likes holding people he’s close to. it’s a small pleasure of his; one that he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in a lot. ( re; his feelings on having close bonds )

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. fluent hoshidan— being the language he was raised to speak. he’s pretty well - versed in nohrian, only for the fact that some missions tended to the usual nohrian spy rather than usual civilians. his form of speech is casual and often littered with half - spoken words that push his speaking voice to be very informal. has never had the time nor the desire to speak professionally; like that of nobles. he can speak fodlanese because he’s here and i don’t know if that’s the actual language but yeah.

PROFESSION. has been taught the techniques and honor codes of a ninja even before he could walk and write properly. is determined to follow in his father’s footsteps with becoming one of the best ninjas in hoshido, but he refuses to become a retainer.

BODY TYPE. a heavy lean towards mesomorph. it’s clear that he’s built well, even underneath his attire. a body and mind trained for battle— suited for the kind of fighter he wishes to become. solid frame and toned stomach, still lacking as many abs as many imagine him to have. and from the form he holds himself in, many also wouldn’t guess that his diet consisted of mostly sweets.

HEIGHT. 5′4″ ( thanos - snapped three inches because of vivi )

COLORS. orange, black, silver / gray, a bit of pink

DRINKS. sugar water, sweet smoothies, very sweet tea, juice ( sometimes ), chocolate milk.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? surprisingly, he drinks a lot more than some might think. although, he prefers to only get drunk around friends and those he trusts. he’s also a lightweight. bitter drinks will make him cry, don’t give it to him. he prefers things that are sweet, of course.

SMOKES? not that much, since it was looked down upon by his teachers and peers. his father, too, probably. but whenever he’s alone and stressed— unable to go to the kitchen to stress - bake, then he’ll smoke from a funny little pipe that he stole from a bandit in the past.