#i am but an innocent lamb just starting to walk

[12thkidiary]

Hello, World!

Thunder clouds are thundering outside. I have a competition tomorrow for which I feel thoroughly unprepared. Today was the second day of 12th grade, and I am already a mess. 

WordPress welcomed me to the site with a ‘Hello World!’, so I’ll do the same.

Hello People Who Took The Time To Actually Read This! Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated. 

I suppose I should introduce myself first. I’m Nainika, very recently promoted to 12th, an aspiring author, and a victim of hearing every adult around me tell me to start a blog. It’s a good idea, I will admit. I can improve my writing, bring a bit of discipline to my life, and have a snazzy page for my portfolio. But the thing no one really tells you is how hard figuring out your blog is. This idea was a shower thought (as the best ideas really are), and I’m going to be honest with you, dear reader, I have no idea if it will work. 

In theory, this will be a digital, very public, diary of my 12th grade. Sometimes I’ll talk about a topic that greatly interested me in school, maybe I’ll vent (I do that a lot). Maybe I’ll go into a deep rabbit hole of questioning my own existence, or I’ll write a 3-page essay on why Remus Lupin is the best comfort character goddamit. In short, stuff that I should probably write in one of my 100s of empty journals and keep it locked, but I’ve always been an oversharer. Now I can benefit from it. 

I’m a student of humanities if that wasn’t obvious till now. My subjects, if you’re interested to know, are Political Science, Sociology, English, Economics, and Maths. Please don’t ask me about the last subject, I don’t know why I took it. I’m suffering greatly. 

So, about this competition I have tomorrow. It’s an MUN. I’m in the UNW, and my country is Switzerland. I’m not going to tell you what all I researched, do that on your own if you’re interested, but my God is researching tough. In my defense, I registered on the 21st, and the conference is tomorrow i.e. the 25th of March, so I didn’t have a lot of time. But that’s making excuses, and we’re trying to reduce that this year. 

I’ve only ever been to one MUN before this, and it was a major flop. It was overcrowded, I was a bundle of nerves, and the only people I knew were from my own school, by whom I’m greatly intimidated. You’ll figure out, dear reader, that I’m intimidated by almost everyone. It’s very easy to intimidate me. Put overcoming that in my list of goals to achieve by the end of the year, will you?

Anyways, this MUN is online, so thank God for small mercies. I have done my research, though it’s all over the place in a google doc right now, and I’ve made a few friends, though the only communication we’ve had is a ‘hi’ or a ‘have you done this before?’ Another small mercy is that this isn’t a competition, in the sense that there won’t be a ‘best delegate’, stuff like that, and yet another small mercy is that I’m not registered through my school. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love this school. I’ve been loyal to it since the 3rd grade, and I’m going to graduate from here too. But this just adds to expectations I still haven’t learned how to handle, and I’d like to attend at least one MUN where I can just explore, learn, and have fun. 

That’s another thing I struggle with- expectations. You’re just uncovering all of my insecurities, aren’t you?

Google says a good blog post should have about a 1500-2100 word length, but I’m sitting on my sofa with a word count of about 700 words, and that’s quite enough for me, thank you. 

With that, I’ll take your leave. I hope you’ll stick around with me while I survive this last year of schooling, and maybe find some comfort in knowing you’re not the only one struggling with basic life problems. 

XO

Naini

(I lied, that wasn’t 700 words. But now it is.)

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view one WordPress - Hello, World!

[cherrywrecked]

princess — jang wonyoung.

since you guys seemed to like these, here i am with another one.

cw: nsfw in the middle of the fic. wonyoung x fem reader. cnc. somno? sub!wony. mommy kink. you're wonyoung's makeup artist. mentions of chaewon from le sserafim.

jang wonyoung—she's everybody's princess. everything she does just seems so fancy, elegant, beautiful yet at the same time, innocent. a lot of people love her for it, but of course, as an idol, that could just be a facade, right? wrong. for wonyoung, she really is like that. beautiful, elegant, sweet, but more importantly, she's yours.

she's no saint. jang wonyoung was far from being innocent and all of that was your fault. sure, she was once a cute little lamb, but ever since she met you, she changed. still sweet, but not innocent. how can you call her that when almost every night when she has the free time, she drops by your apartment, begging for you to make her cum?

you don't have any schedules with wonyoung until next week and it was killing her. you, on the other hand, is so busy with the back to back come back shows of artists you work for so really, you don't have much time to think about her. not until you got a message from her just after you finished packing up your things from le sserafim's shoot today.

wonyoung:

hi, mommy! i missed you today. i've heard from chaewon eonnie that you were working with them today. good luck and i hope you get to finish early. if you do, stop by my flat and spend the night with me? i miss you a lot.

ah, jang wonyoung, truly the cutest princess you've ever had. you immediately started typing a reply for her, letting her know you're free for the rest of the night. it was only nine pm, anyways, and undeniably, you missed her as well. so it was a win-win for the both of you. you felt your phone buzzed on your pockets as you were bidding your bye's with your team, but you didn't get to view it until you were in your car.

of course, it was a video from wonyoung feeling herself. along with it is a message that read; “can't wait to take these off for you tonight, mommy.” and so did you. you can't wait to see her.

it was exactly ten thirty pm when you arrived at her flat. without bothering to knock, you just typed in her passcode and let yourself in. wonyoung wasn't in her living room, so you quickly called out for her. “wonyoung? i'm here, princess.” you said as you walked towards her room. it was open, and there you saw wonyoung in the same clothes she wore on the video, except she fell asleep. she must've been so tired today, but you came all the way here, you're not going to let the night end without having a taste of her.

carefully settling yourself next to her, you caressed her hair as you called out her name softly. “baby, wake up, mommy's here.” but wonyoung was sleeping so deeply. she looked so pretty asleep, but the straps of her top slid off her shoulder already, exposing a bit of her chest and you could see a glimpse of her pinkish nipples. you bit your lower lip as you let your hand do its thing— tugging her top down, fully exposing wonyoung's chest. her nipples were hard— probably because of the aircon.

not saying anything, you just started to play with her nipples which made wonyoung squirm in her sleep. god, she's so cute. you pinched her nipples, rolling both of them around your fingers as you watch them get harder. wonyoung, sensitive as ever, parted her lips as she lets out the cutest pants and quiet moans. “mommy...” she moaned asleep. she's dreaming—or at least she thinks she is. wonyoung shifted, her legs now spread just enough for you to fit one of your hands in between them. she was wearing cotton shorts with nothing underneath and you can see her pink, shaven pussy. you smirked, taking one nipple onto your mouth as you played with the other, your gaze locked on her beautiful, flushed face. “sorry, princess, mommy just can't help herself.” you whispered against her ear whilst your free hand traveled south to her pussy. pushing the fabric to the side, you exposed her cunt before using your index finger to lightly pat her clit, loving how wonyoung would squirm every time your finger touched her.

wonyoung again shifted, giving you more space to play with her princess parts while you brought your kisses down to her stomach, and eventually, her center. still with the shorts on, you pressed a kiss just above her clit, watching wonyoung's sleeping face as you do. no reaction, you hated it. getting bolder, you pulled her shorts to the side before you flattened your tongue above her slit. finally, another reaction. wonyoung's eyebrows furrowed, tilting her head to the side. you started to circle the tip of your tongue around her clit, and wonyoung could only moan in her sleep. she still thinks she's dreaming, but she feels too good for this to just be a dream, right?

you wrapped your lips around her clit, softly sucking on her sensitive muscle and that's when wonyoung found herself waking up. shocked, but she was feeling so good. “m-mommy, y-you're here—a-ah! m-more, please...” wonyoung, still groggy, has now finally her legs spread widely enough for you to fit in between them and eat her out. “s-so good, mommy... more, please. m-more...” wonyoung breathe out, one hand cupping her boob while the other held a fistful of your hair, pushing you more against her.

wonyoung was a squirming mess and you could feel her juices dripping down to her ass. you toyed her hole with her own wetness, teasing the younger. “f-fingers, please... please please! 'm so horny, mommy, please.” wonyoung begged through her lashes, her doe eyes that looked so innocent yet full of lust. you gave her what she wanted and slipped two fingers inside of her. “ssshh, baby, it's okay, mommy's here.” god, she's so tight that she can't even handle two of your slender fingers. wonyoung arched her back as she stabilized her breath, walls clenching tightly around your digits. wonyoung swear she could cum with them alone without the need for you to move them around, but of course, she's learned her lesson not to cum without your permission.

“m-mommy... so so good, f-fuck...” she moaned, hips moving subconsciously. this made you chuckle, seeing her so desperate for you. “yeah? you miss mommy's fingers, baby?” wonyoung could only nod as she pushed your head more against her. taking her signal, you went ahead and started to suck on her clit as you started to move your fingers in and out slowly, gradually increasing your pace. wonyoung's moans are just as pretty as her face. you looked up at her through your lashes and god, you can't believe that a jang wonyoung is caught around your fingers... quite literally.

it didn't take long for wonyoung to feel the familiar knot forming on her tummy. she started to move her hips more and clenched even tighter around your digits and you knew, she was close. not wanting to disappoint the lady, you started to flick on her clit with your tongue before slightly pulling away, “cum for me, baby. cum for mommy.” and again, wrapped your lips around her clit and started sucking on it harshly, the same time you started curling your fingers inside of her, making sure the tip of your digits hit her sweet spot every time.

“c-cumming! mommy, mommy! fuck, 'm cumming...!”, strings of high pitched moans and profanities escaped wonyoung's lips as she came around your fingers and face. you helped her ride her high by gently flicking on her clit, tongue rolling around her labia which made wonyoung squirm even more. finally pulling away, she grabbed you by the neck and pulled her down to kiss your lips, tasting herself on your mouth. “wonyoungie missed you, mommy.” and you knew that with the way she locked her long legs around your waist. you were sure that tonight was going to be a long, pleasurable night for the both of you.

[hitomisuzuya]

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD AS A THOUGHT ON LOOP FOR WEEKS

Scara being a horror attraction worker, you and your friends are walking around the attraction and you can’t help but feel like the pretty masked indigo haired boy is fallowing you and scaring you and your friends on purpose, getting a little to close as he comes up behind you and drags his fake knife down your neck. Or maybe when he whispers how good your doing at not screaming when he witnesses you jump a bit from a sudden scare

When you end up dragged away or lured by him don’t be surprised if he takes you right there and then <33

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Semi public sex. Fingersucking. Degradation. Reader is written as afraid of dolls because I am. Chucky the doll scares the shit out of me.

I love requests like this. 😳 Roma is all better now 😌

Scaramouche loves his job. He got to scare the snot out of people on a nightly basis. And he was good at it. If a scream count existed, Scaramouche had the highest count.

You had his attention almost immediately. You had a target on your back when several other people he worked with tried to scare you and your friend, but all they got was a slight quiver.

You were the type that had to incredibly caught off guard to get scared. He was all but licking his lips at the challenge. And he couldn't even begin to explain how aroused it made him feel.

Scaramouche hadn't been able to have this much fun in awhile because people were just so predictable. You sure were interesting though. He needed to know what made you tick.

He started with the usual, jumping at you from behind things. However, he seemed to get a little closer to each time. He wasn't relentless. At least not at first.

Scaramouche got little jumps or quivers here and there from you. That only made him more determined.

Never once did you scream.

He got an interesting sight at the part where you would have to go through a room with motion sensor dolls. Your eyes got really wide, shaking your head at your friend. "No, I can't. I'll meet you outside the door of the next room." You backed up a little, your face pale.

Scaramouche's eyes were glued to you. You even started to shake a little. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you. This just wouldn't do.

He couldn't have something else scare you. He has to be the one to do it. However, that didn't mean he couldn't use the situation to get your attention somehow.

Stepping out from around the corner, Scaramouche drug the blade of his fake along the wall as he walked by, locking eyes with you as he passed. His boss was going kill him for this one.

You thought his eyes cut right into your soul.

He walked into the room and promptly skewered one of the dolls with his knife. "Your in the way," He said, letting it drop to the ground. He pointed the blade of the fake knife at you. He was coming for you.

Little did you know in more ways in one.

And Scaramouche more than had your attention now.

He ramped up his efforts more than ever. Getting closer still. Until he got the closest of all. You didn't even see him coming. And truthfully, you started looking for him to come and scare you. You were starting to anticipate his scares, and when they didn't come like you expected, it threw you off.

That was just what he wanted. Because only then could he get this close to you. Like a hunter closing in on his prey. And you were the innocent little lamb.

You gasped startled. But you didn't scream. And that made him want you more. You shivered when he pressed the blade of fake knife against your throat. "What a good girl you are. You didn't even scream," God, he wanted to grind his twitching cock against your backside. Up this close to you he could smell how good you smelt.

It sent him reeling.

Scaramouche had to have you.

All of you.

Scaramouche set up a perfect lure for you. One that would send you right in his direction. He took the time to go back into the office and grab a big poster board. On it he wrote: One of you must go one way and the other another. Only one of you may come out on the other side to meet in the same place. Abandon hope all yee who take these separate paths.

Drawing a few ghosts and bats on the sign to make it seem like it had been part of the attraction the whole time, he hung it up outside near the wooded part of the attraction.

When you saw the sign, you looked at your friend. "I guess I'll see you soon," You kissed your friend on the cheek and headed down the path Scaramouche hoped you would.

If you hadn't, he still would've found a way to work it in his favor. You stopped, looking around when you saw no indication of which way you should go. Then you heard a familiar voice.

"Psht, come this way," Scaramouche said, curling his index finger at you in a come hither motion. A shiver went up his spine when you without hesitation walked towards him.

"It's you. Have you been following me? And what with that doll earlier?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shrugging, Scaramouche suddenly looped his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush with his. "I had to get your attention. So I took away the threat. I couldn't think of a better way to do it."

He wanted you. And you, you wanted him to.

His breath fanned across your lips, hovering there for consent. However, his hands were already wandering along your body to test the waters.

Nodding, you tilted your head up and kissed him. He parted your lips with his tongue, finally getting taste you. It curled and glided with yours, guiding you backwards up against a tree.

Scaramouche's kiss stole the breath right from your lungs, his mouth swallowing your moan as he lifted you to pin you against the tree. You were melting into the kiss. Melting into him.

Pushing your skirt up, he groaned feeling how wet you were as his thumb found your clit, pressing a damp spot into the lacy fabric. You mewled into his mouth.

This boy, with his hypnotic eyes and dominating tongue were swallowing you whole. He chuckled at your reaction, biting at your lips as he pulled away. "Already so wet. What a little slut you are," He purred, shivering when you moaned loudly hearing his degradation.

Grinding needily against you, he batted your hands away impatiently when you tried unbuttoning his jeans. Bracing an arm around you, he peeled your panties off, wasting no tip pressing the head of his leaking cock against your clit.

You gasped in pleasure, grinding against it seeking the friction on your throbbing clit. He groaned from how hard his cock throbbed, stopping all motion for a moment just to tease you.

You wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his hair. His lips hungrily captured yours again, swallowing your gasp as he pushed his cock inside of you.

It felt just as felt as heavenly as he imagined, his cock stretching your walls apart as he bottomed out inside of you. "I'll help myself to making you scream now," He hissed, pulling out to the tip before abruptly thrusting into your cunt all at once.

Every thrust kissed deep into your sweet spot. If your legs weren't wrapped around him, your knees would've buckled. Putting his lips close to your ear, soaking in your cries of pleasure as they got louder, he said, "You are all mine now."

Your fingernails clawed into the back of his neck, making him shudder in bliss feeling the sting. "So loud," He grunted, his hips snapping into yours, "what a whore." He couldn't get enough of it.

Drinking in the haze of fucked out bliss clouding your eyes, he pressed you harder against the tree so he fuck his cock deeper inside of you. "Open your mouth, slut," He growled, pushing the tips of his fingers against your lips.

Scaramouche had beautiful fingers. You opened your mouth eagerly, your tongue curling around them as you sucked. Your cheeks flushed, eyes melting into a look of utter adoration as he pushed his fingers into your throat.

Moaning, you choked on his fingers. "Good girl, such subservience," He pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth, transfixed on the way drool pooled around them.

"So tight..fuck, I'm cumming," His thrusts turned sloppy, his cock ribboning cum inside of you. The warm feeling of him filling you full made you squirt all over his cock. He held you against him, cradling you as you trembled from your orgasm.

Scaramouche relentlessly fucked his cum inside of you, a white ring forming his cock. You clung to him, rocking your hips into his. He didn't stop until he was satisfied.

You mewled when he pulled out of you. Setting you down, you had to lean against him because your body felt limp from the intensity of your lovemaking.

"Your name? What's your name?" You asked, resting your forehead against his.

He nuzzled his forehead against yours. "Scaramouche," He scooped you up bridal style, and you didn't notice until he did that your panties were in his pocket. "Can't have any leaking out," He chuckled when he heard your shy squeak.

[babygorewhore]

Divine Ruler. Kai Anderson smut.

Kai has been so mean lately. But you couldn’t resist him…could you? WARNINGS! Corruption. Use of the word daddy. Slapping. Fingering. Oral! Fem receiving. PnV! Cream pie. Overstimulation. Choking. Mean! Kai.

Okay. Okay. I know! I KNOW I SAID IM TAKING A BREAK! AFTER THIS IS POSTED I SWEAR I AM. BUT I WORKED ON THIS SINCE LAST NIGHT. ENJOY MY LITTLE LAMBS.

You heard the front door slam. Shuffling downstairs, waking you up from deep sleep. Then you heard yelling. You exited the room, hearing the commotion in the basement. As you walked, you overheard Kai screaming at Samuels. “Motherfucker. Don’t you know that you could have ruined this whole thing?” He yelled, raising his hand to slap the man.

“I’m sorry, divine ruler. I was thinking with my dick. Not my brain.” Kai lowered his hand. Changing his mind.

“Get him out of my sight. I’ll deal with him later.”

That wasn’t the last of it.

You were making coffee in the kitchen but you accidentally dropped a cup. It didn’t break but it made a loud noise. Kai slammed his hand down on the counter, right next to you.

“If you’re not more careful, I’m going to lock you in the fucking closet.” He hissed before ripping away from you. You breathed harder.

The next time, you were in the basement sitting on the couch next to winter as he was telling one of his deranged stories. You ached for him. You missed his touch and kisses. You wanted his attention but you were forbidden to speak during these moments.

“And that’s why…men lead. Women bleed.”

“Kai. That’s absolutely cruel.” You couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. Kai froze and so did you. You broke a rule.

“So, this is what you’ve decided to do in front of my faithful men. Disrespect me. Question my words.”

“No. I just think…” you continued.

“What? You think, what?” He growled.

“I just think that’s wrong. Is all.” You finished.

Kai shot up, faster than you anticipated and reached forward, locking his hand around your neck. “Beg. Beg for my forgiveness.” Your eyes widened as he grip tightened.

“I’m-im- I’m sorry.” You whimpered.

“That’s not fucking good enough.” He yelled but he did let go. You inhaled deeply as he sat back down, continuing to share his ideas.

Later, you waited in the bedroom for him. Planning on getting on your knees to apologize. Some sort of contact was better than none. But as the hours grew later, you realized he wasn’t coming to bed. You laid on your side and started crying. You missed him so much. But you didn’t know why. He was distant more than he was affectionate. He was so determined to succeed that you often went neglected.

You sat up and wiped your tears. Set on finding out what was going on with him. As you walked through the house searching, everyone was asleep. You opened the door to his parents room and you saw him sitting beside his mothers corpse. You held your nose and stood at the doorway.

“Kai?”

He didn’t look at you.

“Are you going to come to bed?” You asked him.

“My father wasn’t a good man.” Kai said aloud, as if he wasn’t talking to you. “He was the reason my mother killed herself. He deserved to die. More than her.”

You nodded, enjoying the rare vulnerability he was showing. “It gives me pleasure. To literally see him rot for what he did.” Kai said before standing, letting go of his mother’s skeleton hand.

“Why did you come to look for me?” He demanded.

“Because I miss you.” You sniffled. “I miss you and I want you back.” He looked at you unimpressed.

“As you know, I must bring progress to this movement. I can’t allow my personal feelings to get me distracted.”

“But I’m your girlfriend! Talk to me. Show me how you’re feeling!” You respond desperately.

“How am I supposed to show how pissed off I am without hurting a little girl like you?” He mused and walked closer to you, tilting your chin up. “Just a little precious, innocent girl. Too senseless to walk away from a man as dangerous as me.”

“I’m not senseless. I love you, Kai. I want you.” You leaned forward to kiss him but his hand locked around your jaw. Squeezing it too tight.

“How badly? How bad do you want me?” You swallowed, scared to reply.

“You’re still young…ten years between us. I still have so much to show you.” He whispered, getting closer to your lips.

“Please. Touch me.” You pleaded, ignoring the pain in your jaw. Kai let you go, but his brown eyes impossibly darkened. His hands wrapped in your hair and yanked you against him, his teeth bared.

“Get on the floor. And crawl. Crawl back to the bedroom. And don’t fucking get up until I tell you too.” You nodded rapidly, terrified to disobey. You got on your hands and knees, crawling back down the hall and into his bedroom.

You stopped when you felt his foot, knock you over, making you fall on your forearms. You gasped. “Did I fucking say to move?” Kai barked at you. You immediately returned to your position.

“Fuck. Look at that pretty ass. Should I fuck it? Spread my cum all over you and make you show everyone who exactly you belong too, little girl?” His hand grazed your lower back before he pulled you back by your belt loops.

“Stand up.” He ordered and you did. Like a personal puppet. Your back was pressed against his chest as he leaned down, his nose going against your pulse point. His tongue darted out, licking the warm flesh.

“You taste so good. But I wonder…how wet are you for me?” He shoved his hands in your pants, shoving aside your underwear, his pointer finger gathering your slick.

“You fucking dirty girl. Wet for me when I treat you like a doll. But you like that don’t you?” He shoved his finger in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“Taste that? That’s mine.” He turned you around, his height over yours as he looked down at you like you were pathetic. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.” He spits in your mouth before he nods towards the bed.

“Get on the bed. And spread those pretty legs.” You listened to him with your heart in your throat. You laid on the mattress, still wearing your leggings as you spread your legs, feeling your wetness drip down your legs.

Kai peered down at you, looking bored. “Take off your leggings. I wanna see that little pussy.” Your cheeks flushed as you shimmied out of your pants, exposing your bare lower half.

“Fuck. You’re dripping. Such a bad girl.” Kai kneeled down, flexing his fingers before he shoved two inside, you cried out at the sudden fullness. “Oh. Can you not take it? Are you too innocent for my fingers?” You breathed harder as he pumped inside you. You wanted to touch your clit but you hesitated.

“What do you want? You want me to make you cum?” Kai asked you, you could feel his breath. “I think you’ve been a good little princess for me. I think you deserve a reward.”

His tongue laid flat against your clit. You moaned as he spread you further with his fingers, flicking his tongue as he made out with your pussy. You felt his teeth graze against your walls as you threw your head back. “Kai-“ You shuddered as he replaced his fingers with his tongue inside and started circling your clit with his thumb.

“You know what’s not what you call me. Do you want me to stop?” You shook your head, ashamed at how desperate you were for his touch.

You searched in your head for names he liked. .

“No, daddy. Please don’t stop.” He slapped your pussy. You winced.

“That’s good. Really good. But not what I’m looking for today.”

“D-divine ruler?” You whimpered as he increased his speed. Kai smirked against your pussy.

“Atta girl. That’s right. Say it again.”

“Please don’t stop, divine ruler.” You groaned, getting close to your release.

“Do you want to cum?” He asked, softly running his tongue against your folds.

“Fuck. Please, please, please.” You begged before it hit you. Your warmth spread along his face as you rolled your hips, chasing your orgasm.

You started to settle but Kai lurched forward and wrapped his hand around your neck. “Did I fucking say you could? You always wait until I say you can. And you disobeyed me. Again.” He tapped your cheek with his hand, not hard but enough to get your attention.

“But you said-“ this time. A slap came. Harder.

“Don’t fucking interrupt me.” Kai yanked down his pants, down his thighs and his boxers followed. He pumped his shaft a few times before lining it up with your entrance. “Just for that. You don’t get to touch me.”

“Oh god. Kai wait- I need a minute.” You begged but he slammed inside you, causing you to nearly scream.

Your pussy clenched around him as he thrusted hard and deep inside you. His hand gripped your throat as his other pinned your hands above your head. Keeping you still.

“What’s a soft little girl doing? Being so wet for me.” He groaned against your neck as he pressed sloppy kisses against your throat. You could hardly breathe but you felt yourself getting ready for another orgasm.

“Divine ruler-“ you moaned. Trying to loosen his grip. But he was stronger than you.

Kai settled into a fast and rough rhythm as you both grew close. Your eyes saw stars as you felt yourself break. Kai let out one last deep moan before you felt his cum spill inside you, and you followed suit.

He slid in and out of you, still not removing yourself. You couldn’t bare the overstimulation and you tried to wiggle from him.

“Too fucked to talk?” He asked you, as sweat gathered on his forehead.

“Please…” You pleaded through gasps.

Finally, he released you. Kai shuddered before he pulled out of your slickness. He fell next to you, breathing hard as you tried to collect yourself.

You reached down, sore from him as you saw blood on your fingers. You weren’t a virgin, thanks to Kai several weeks ago. But he still took you so roughly.

“A little blood never hurt anyone.” Kai chuckled. He scooped you in his arms and you curled around his chest. Your legs tangling with his.

Kai stayed silent as you kissed his cheek, allowing you to show him affection as he ran his hand across your arm.

Taglist. @spill-the-t @evanptrss @evanpetersfansblog @randodummy @icannot3

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #10

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Just a window to what the beginning looked like, before the deal, and wine and dine with Luci. Warnings: Angst, blood, Charlie being a divorce child.

I'm brewing something good here, a very special friend of mine is writing the smut for the next part, so please be patient.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz

Young, idiot and most of all, blood lusted.

“They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a fell demon from hottest hell” you laughed repeating your own word written in blood.

How could you explain death? Its smell, sandalwood. Its feeling? Warm, ember heat-like. After hitting 2000 victims, your mind drifted to a state of noise. Multiple voices drove your senses to anger, wrath, the influence of your hate had incinerated your reason, and made you seem like a monster in the night.

The coarse sound of the metal dragging the street was all the New Orleanians could hear besides the jazz playing, because that was the only condition you put to spared those who claimed themselves innocent. The list in your hand seemed infinite as re enforcements settled in your city.  

Walking around the bayou reviewing the same, you found the gentleman image of your desires eating some lady’s arm behind a willow tree, such nauseating devotion made your core feel butterflies.

Endless names, nonending blood flow. Suddenly food didn’t satiated you, water had the contrary effect on you, this had to stop. Your axe in hand, in the cold of your marital bedroom, you lit a candle, its dim light barely managing to fight the gloomy atmosphere. And you laughed, for the first time after having cried so much death and pain.

For the first time your hands shook on your axe, but that didn't matter, as soon as your vision blurred, you moved automatically, forcing the blade against your face, right in the middle. Again and again hard and breaking sounds, blood on your dress and sheets, by some supernatural force you managed to split your own skull in two before losing your life completely. The last thing your eyes saw among the blood that fell from your eyelids was the candle that started a fire.

You died at the hands of the Axe-man.

Everyone pictures purgatory in a different way, usually something they would hate, in your case that was a Hospital corridor, with a red lighted number count, waiting to be your turn.

"Miss Lionheart, I must say that we were waiting for you, we had a predicament about where to put your soul," the secretary, a lamb with pink fur like cotton candy, examined documents all with images of you without your face, "On the one hand you freed many girls from sexual slavery, she also lived being honest, fair and in her moments benevolent" her bitter tone contrasted with the reading of your judgment.

"However a life is a life, the good deed will not be praised because it was stained with violence, insanity, wrath, vengeance and pride" she rearranged her glasses as a fifty-year-old lady would, "Also, you renounced God and his teachings, I fear that hell awaits you" she gave you a pious look, if it were up to her, you would be enjoying eternal life in heaven, but the decision was made by a power greater than her.

Would you have lived better if you had known that heaven was real? You asked yourself, seeing the shiny door contrast with the dark and red sky. On the other hand, did you regret cutting those girls' chains? No.

You fell, the hot wind hissed on your skin, slowly engulfing you like embers, the ground shook and a great roar was caused by the impact of your new body on the dry, sulfurous soil on the outskirts of pentagram city.

Years before the technology impact.

Relatively young, addicted to the tingle of consuming a soul. It is a sensation like no other, making deals with souls for asylum and care. You took advantage of those who didn't know a better alternative, the faceless monster they called you, a faceless chimera. One of the first Overlords you met was Zestial, who repudiates you, he’s disgusted because he thinks you’re a rebel without morals.

You would rather die than admit that you were almost killed in your first extermination, an angel who returned home with her mask broken, just because you understood too late that the edge of your axe didn’t make cuts on her skin, instead the holy blade rose your arm, making your blood sizzle like when you but bloody meat on the grill.

Barely managed to escape her. It's funny that a being considered divine is more bloodthirsty than a serial killer, it is but it doesn't cause you much fun.

The pain of the wound clouded several of your senses for years, the good thing is that with a total count of seven million souls and the tobacco business taking over years after your arrival, the souls gave you enough strength to overcome the pain.

Call it destiny or divine mercy, but the hotel was your refuge when the acid of the rain began to melt your skin. Among the cobwebs and the rats you slept, you let the power help with the wounds. "Hey, that looks bad, do you need help?" soft and sweet, Charlie tried everything to seem that way, "How much is it going to cost me?" She didn't mean to laugh at you, but the princess knew little about what was happening on the streets of her kingdom.

"Nothing, I just want to help, I can't promise you perfection but the scar will be great?" she tried to make you feel better. A ray of sun in the dark Charlie is, in your eyes she resembled a lot of your own daughter, the slight curve of her smile, the golden locks, the warmth radiating from her mere presence.

You were far too much of a fool to admit you loved that, instead you wanted to destroy her.

Weakness, in your path to the power, it was a term that couldn’t exist. Letting you help her, even seeing that she was in a worse state than you, put a patch in your heart, it had been there for a long time, caused by time. Although it's true, she offered you her hand and you snatched it from her, figuratively.

But what started the fight itself? Going down the hill from where the hotel is established, into the hole where it was rumored the archangel and his wife had fallen, with dagger in hand you heard her talk about how much it hurt her that her mother had turned her back on her, not a word had she said to her before. to take his suitcases and leave. Without really listening you raised the object, her back an open target, but when you were about to end her, she disappeared from your view.

The air around became dense, almost tangible, the dagger flew from your hand and embedded itself far from your reach, that was when you turned to see the monster that could become the princess of hell.

Two months of knowing her, down the drain.

And then the deal was given, despite how angry she was, she helped you with your injuries and you with hers, with the few powers that she allowed you to possess you fixed the hotel to look less in ruins, you paid to fix it a little even if it was not the best workmanship.

"Can you say something to make me feel better?" She said with a blanket over her body, looking at the fireplace, "It's raining acid" you sat next to her, leaving her cup of sweet tea in front of her, with a small plate of cookies, "How does that help me?" She said discouraged, "Instead of focusing on the acid, just notice that we no longer have leaks, and enjoy the sound" She took your advice, closed her eyes and listened.

“You’re right” she smiled, first in a while.

You snapped out your trance when the king kissed your cheek, his breath was warm and minty.

Lucifer had promised to take you to one of the best restaurants in his kingdom, without taking into account the terror that his presence and yours would cause, of course. The poor group of waiters watched attentively as Lucifer chose a table that he liked, one near the stage where a comedian occasionally appeared. The group looked with pity at one of his companions, that was his assigned area.

The king took the chair and gallantly invited you to sit, after you did he could’ve sat in front of you, but he decided to be by your side, at a distance in which he could have your hand in his. “Welcome your majesty and miss Axe-man, can I get you started on anything?” the waiter was sweating himself to death, as Lucifer ordered some entrees and drinks while they cooked up some kind of demon lobster.

He promised you’d love the taste, and he weren’t wrong, “I have no idea why I haven’t tried this before” he was delighted he could show you new things, he even introduced you to absinthe, which is an anise flavored liquor that can in fact cause severe intoxication when consumed a large quantities. That is why it is served in very tiny glasses.

“So, how is it?” he threw a laugh when he saw your frown as soon as the liquid went down your throat, “Tastes earthy, with a kick, I think I’ll stick to either fruit cocktails or whiskey” he made a signal to the waiter, who brought you a glass of a single malt type of whiskey, “Was your idea knowing that I wouldn’t like it or the waiter’s insight?” he smirked “Both” you kissed his cheek then motioned your hand so the boy would come near you enough to slip a 50 hell buck in his pocket, “Good thinking”.

An inner part of yourself thought it was funny the amount of respect or fear you got by yourself, but with his hand on yours, people saw you as an asset not worth the chance of getting killed for even see you in a wrong way. It gave you sensations down your crotch, right in your sadism side.

“You love it don’t you?” he knew you knew what he meant, “It became my new guilty pleasure” he chose your dress, well rather suggested, he wanted to match with you.

He didn't know whether to change his style or give you something that matched him, he didn't want to disrespect you in any way, you chose to get out of the black for a day and try to open yourself up to a new possibility. With a snap of his fingers he materialized a dress on your body that you really liked.

From the bust to the waist it was white adorned with embroidery of flowers of different sizes and flowers, all white. The skirt was long and uncut, falling perfectly to your ankles, a beautiful scarlet red that matched his wings. It was a very conservatory dress, fit to the time you were born in, but that accentuated your features in a perfect way.

“You look beautiful” “All thanks to my designer” 'Did she liked this sort of dresses too?' You thought, “Lilith liked things that would show off more skin, in case you were wondering” you were, he knew that as soon as he looked at you, while taking a sip out of his drink, “I couldn’t help it” he gave you a gentle squeeze on your hand, “I know” he wasn't angry, at all.

“Do you read my mind?” A type of tension in the air, breathable, yet he had you tied by your hands and feet in his gaze, let them damn you, because the devil is beautiful. “I don’t need to; your eyes are pretty sincere” He wondered what your eyes would look like without your soul being owned by someone else, he was grateful that someone as good as his daughter had you instead of a heartless overlord that could use you as he pleased.

“I hate the way you read me” you whispered close to his ear, sending a shiver down his spine, “No you don’t” he offered you a cocky smile and a soft kiss to the hand he was holding.

“Thank you for being for me last night” his voice was soft, still carrying a lot of pain. With a smile and a soft caress to his cheek you spoke, “Anytime, Luci” his name rolling down your mouth was heaven to him.

Later that night the rest of the hotel was awake and hanging out in the parlor, “Hey Y/n, how did it go?” Charlie waved at you from the fire place, while Vaggie asked “Where’s the king?”, you laughed and showed a little of your neck under your coat that he had conjured, showing a sleeping white snake, “He had a little too much to drink, suddenly he was snoozing and a snake” Charlie let out a chuckle, “I’ll take his royal self to bed if you guys don’t mind“ Angel went running to your side to take a photo of sleepy Luci, “He looks so cute like that” he cooed excitedly, “I know, right?”.

He in a puff of golden glitter he turned back to his adorable self, just as you were setting him down on the bed, “Don’t leave me” me muttered, deep asleep, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise” he snuggled against your plushie, purring slightly at your caresses. His light snoring was your signal to pull his boots off and finish tucking him in.

Now, what you promised to Alastor, indulging him in a few drinks.

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

Part 11

[anikasheep]

HUG

gn! mc

reblog and comments are appreciated!

I could just imagine MC started giving Lucifer a hug after he went home or finished his work and walked out of his room.

No one actually remembers when it started, but the brothers could feel that Lucifer is more bearable when he deals with those tasks.

Lucifer felt surprised and embarrassed when MC hugged him in front of his brothers. But those twisted faces of jealousy on his brothers were too amusing to miss. Besides, how could he say no to MC when they just want to praise him and show their appreciation?

The hugs light Lucifer’s mood. After all, no one would like to feel their hard work being seen by their beloved and cherish that.

If Lucifer was struggling with some difficult documents or papers, the hug and the soothing voice from MC would comfort him. He’d bury his head in the crook of MC’s neck, and sigh in relief, while he let your scents and soft touches chase those irritations away.

“A rough day, huh? I bet you put your every heart into this one. I’m so proud of you, Lucifer!”

“Thank you for your hard work again today, I love you.”

It didn’t matter if it was night, midnight, or the next day early morning. MC insisted that Lucifer should hear those praises ASAP, so MC even asked Lucifer to call them once he finished and the time was late. Though Lucifer said it was not that urgent to be so extreme, Lucifer still felt warm and satisfied that MC put him on the top priority.

He rests his back against the wood of his bed cabinet, your sleepy hoarsed voice is his new craving. No, he craves every sound of your voice, the laugh, the yawn, the hiccup, just all so adorable and he loves those all.

If he solved those papers early or his brothers showed some mercy on him that day, then he’d text MC to come into his room. His head lays on your lap while your soft hand brushes his hair and hums some soft song, Lucifer’s arms are around your torso, and your other hand is in his large ones.

“I noticed that your photos show up with Lord Diavolo and other lords of demons, and you’re so beautiful that I can’t move my eyes from you. I fell in love with you again you know?”

“Thank you for always being there when we need you, Lucifer. Now please allow me to show my gratitude to you. Just relax, and nothing shall be worried…”

Today is slightly different, though.

There’s a near meeting Diavolo and Lucifer have with the most stubborn lord of demons, so Lucifer invites Diavolo to discuss the resolution in the House of Lamentation.

The meeting is held until midnight, but the good news is that they finally solved things.

Lucifer is escorting Diavolo to the front door, but Diavolo stops when he passes by the living room.

“Is that MC?” Lucifer peeks into the living room, and he sees a tiny little sheep curling up on the sofa.

Before he decided that if he should wake you up now or later, the prince stepped in.

Diavolo and Lucifer now kneeling one leg down to look at MC more clearly.

“They’re such a cute sheep even in their dreams, and so innocent. Don’t you think, Lucifer?”

Diavolo chuckles, his honey-golden eyes glowing.

“I think you’re right, Diavolo. And MC sleeps feeling security in the House of Lamentation is the best reward of my work.”

Maybe Lucifer is so amused that they finally make some ways to negotiate with the sneaky demon lord, his slender point finger trails MC’s face, down to their cheek and their lips.

MC groans and blinks their eyes slowly, still unsure where they are, but when they see Lucifer smiling down at them, they hold their arms up instantly.

“Lucifer~~” Lucifer leans to them and embraces his sweet lamb gently.

He could feel your hands stroking his back and you nuzzle against his chest, bury yourself into his coat.

“My Morning Star, thank you for today’s hard work. And you’re so warm, I feel safe when I am in your arms…”

Lucifer cocks his head and brushed his lips under your ear for seconds, he murmurs.

“Thank you, MC. For supporting me.”

He releases you, and he turns around to see Diavolo staring at both him and MC, looking slightly uneasy.

“Diavolo?”

The prince smiles bitterly. “ Forgive me, it’s just too hard to not feel jealous of how close you and MC are, I wish I could get the hug and the praise too. Haha!”

MC stands up slowly, walks toward Diavolo, and opens their arms again, their voice still hoarse but full of cheer.

“Lord Diavolo, some hug please…oof!” The demon prince gives MC a HUGE BEAR HUG.

“There there, we see how hard you work for the brothers, for the angels, for us, and for the whole Devildom. The peace and joy that could stay in Devildom is thanks to your hard work. And Barbatos told me that you ate the pickles in the sandwiches today, right?”

Diavolo nods in silence, his entire body is trembling. MC pats the auburn hair of the prince.

“You’ve overcome so many situations, you’re kind to everyone and that’s why we love you, my lord.”

MC kisses Diavolo’s hair and keeps whispering sweet praises to the lonely prince.

Lucifer is happy to see his friend get some praise but he feels weird about watching MC hugging Diavolo at the same time.

Still, he doesn’t say anything because he knows that Diavolo needs that right now.

After Barbaros comes to pick Diavolo up, Lucifer and MC bid good night.

A new text was sent from Diavolo.

“Do you get that from MC on often, Lucifer?”

“…Yes, they did that to help relieve my tensions. ”

“And that became the way you show each other some intimacy? How unfair!”

“I’d ask MC to praise me when the student council meeting is over from now on.”

“Do you think they would indulge me so far, Lucifer?”

“I can’t see they could say no to your puppy dog eyes, they do have a soft spot for you, Diavolo.”

“You really think so? Now it flatters me, Lucifer. Well then, it’s settled.”

Lucifer grumbles under his breath, but he chooses to accept the inconvenience situation.

After all, that sheep tames beasts with their softness, kindness, and those praises which are sweet as honey.

[simplyholl]

Snowed In [Loki x F.Reader]

Summary:  While on a mission, you and Loki discover a strange flower. Will its effects change your relationship forever?

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ only. Sex pollen. 

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F Avenger reader 

Shout out to @lokisgoodgirl for helping me so much. You’re amazing!

Part of the Winter Warmers Collection

The cool wind felt like a knife as it kissed your skin. You were ill prepared for this whole mission. It was way colder than you anticipated. It started snowing two hours ago, and it was pouring. You were searching for the hidden safehouse. Stark’s newest GPS lead the way. The snow crunching under your boots is the only sound as you look around the vast area. Snow had covered everything in sight. “I have found it.” Loki, your mission partner and the bane of your existence announced in your headset. You hadn’t wanted to go on this mission at all, but everyone else was away on some Hydra sting. You and Loki were the only Avengers available. Of course, it was him you were stuck with. It was always him.

He got under your skin like no one else. He was so cocky. He always thought he was right and he loved fighting with you. If you were training partners, he would push you hard until it ended in a screaming match. Your latest spat had landed you both in hot water. Steve had demanded you spend more time together to get over yourselves. Tony’s outlandish suggestion was for you to sleep together to ease the tension. Yeah right, like that would ever happen. “It’s another mile ahead. You need to hurry.” Loki’s smooth voice through the headset interrupts your thoughts. When you finally arrive at the safehouse, you take in your surroundings. The snow comes up too high on the small cabin. You would be stuck here for a few days. You were about to walk in when a large blue flower catches your eye. “Loki, come out here. Check this out. What kind of flower would survive in this weather?” “Y/N, DON’T!” Loki shouts running toward you as you picked the flower from its position among the glistening snow. But it was too late, the flower emitted a red sticky substance in the air choking you both. He dragged you back inside the cabin. “What was that?” You choke out. “It is a flower that emits a substance that makes you incredibly aroused. If those desires are not acted on, it could kill you. I have only read about them. I have never seen one until now. I tried to stop you, but you would not listen.” “Well excuse me for being curious! It was a beautiful flower!” You place your hands on your hips pacing in the small kitchen. “Wait, wait you said this thing is going to make us really horny and unless we do something about it, we DIE?” You run your hand through your disheveled hair trying to process this revelation. “Precisely.” Loki smirks at you. “Okay, well no problem. I will go in one bedroom; you go in another. We will take care of our little problem. No big deal.” Loki flashes you a wicked smile, “Oh you innocent little lamb.” His laugh fills the tiny room. “What is so funny? It’s just masturbation, Loki. It’s completely natural.” You fail to find the humor in this situation. He is doubled over almost in the floor laughing hysterically. “We can not remedy this situation by merely masturbating, Y/N. You have to reach completion with a partner. ” You can’t be serious.” “I am dead serious. You are going to beg me to fuck you And I cannot wait.” His eyes hungrily trace every curve of your body causing your cheeks to heat. “I would rather DIE!” You yell at him. How dare he? “As you wish, darling.” He smirks as he walks to the fireplace. He waves his hand in front of it. A fire ignites, you can instantly feel the heat. You almost forgot how cold you were in light of this new information. You stomp down the hallway looking for your room. You turn on the light to find a bathroom. A bathtub against the wall, but no shower. This was going to be a long trip. You come out to discover there is only one bedroom, not two. Oh great. How can this get any worse.? You glance around the room noticing there is only one bed. Well, finders’ keepers. You quickly change into your pajamas you brought in your backpack. You crawl into the bed getting warm under the blankets. Stupid flower, Loki is just messing with me. I don’t feel different. Of course, it’s just a joke. You smile to yourself. I can’t believe I almost fell for it. Jokes on him, when he comes in here to discover he will have to sleep on the floor. Thoughts of revenge dance through your head as you fall asleep.

          You throw the blankets off you. It is extremely hot in here. That must be what woke you. Your eyes scan the unfamiliar room finding Loki stripping down to his underwear. “What are you doing?” He looks at you like you are daft. “I am going to bed. What does it look like?” You spread yourself out on the mattress trying to take up all the space. “There’s no room for you. You’ll have to sleep on the floor.” Loki walks toward the bed. His large hands effectively scoot you over. “I am a prince. I will not sleep on the floor. You don’t need to either. We had a long journey today. You need proper rest.” He gets on the bed beside you. You can feel the heat radiating off him. “Are you burning up too? It’s so hot in here.” you complain. “It is actually rather cold in here. It must be the flower starting to affect us. Remember my words, Y/N. I will not touch you, until you beg me.” You groan trying to get comfortable in the bed that is too small for both of you. “Very funny. I feel fine. Sex is the last thing on my mind.” You close your eyes wishing for sleep to find you again. You lay for hours before going into the bathroom. Your breasts feel heavy. You are so wet, and you hadn’t been thinking of anything to achieve it. God, you were so aroused. Maybe Loki wasn’t lying after all. But he has to be. Maybe not about the flower, but about the sex thing. Why couldn’t you just rid yourself of the affliction? You slide your hand in your panties. Fingers find your clit. It feels nice, but it is not enough. It actually seems like the more your fingers work, the worse you feel. Your skin is on fire. You almost feel sick. Perhaps you would die from this. You go back to the bedroom, giving up on curing yourself. Loki sits up, a wolfish smile on his face. “Are you feeling alright, pet? You look flushed.” You lay back on your side of the bed turning on your left side to face him. “I tried to take care of it by myself, but it didn’t work. I feel so much worse. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I am so hot. I can’t stand it. Why aren’t you feeling like this?” He throws the blanket off himself revealing his arousal. “I am aching, pet. I can make it stop. You only have to ask me.” “In your dreams, Loki. I’m going to lay on the floor now. It will be cooler.” You bring your pillows to the chilled floor. It only soothes you for a minute. You’re sure this fever will never break. You rub your thighs together, stifling a moan. You check to see if Loki heard you. He hadn’t, thank God. He must be asleep. You can’t even think of sleep. The only thing on your mind is release. You try to keep your mind occupied, but it’s no use. You are positive you’re going to die any second now. The ghost of your impending orgasm must possess you, because it’s definitely not you waking Loki. You lean over him shaking his arm. “Wake up.” He rolls over, lust filled eyes roam your body. “Did you have something you wanted to ask me, Y/N?” “Please Loki?” “Please what, pet? I know not what you ask of me.” God, he’s so annoying and so attractive? How had you not noticed before? Okay maybe you had noticed during training when his large, muscular body had you pinned under him, or when he was teaching you how to use daggers. You knew he was hot, but usually your annoyance with him outweighed any attraction. But right now, when there was an ocean in your panties, when his hair hung down in messy curls, when he looked at you like he would devour you whole, the attraction was undeniable. “Loki, please I NEED YOU. Please touch me. Please fuck me. Please, I am begging you.” His eyes darken as he pulls you on the bed. “I thought you would never ask.” Loki’s lips crash into yours. He kisses you hungrily. His tongue begging entrance, you accommodate him, tongues gliding against each other. You pull his hair wanting to be as close as possible. He reluctantly breaks the kiss. With the wave of his hand, both of your clothes disappear. He places hard kisses on your neck, sucking the tender skin there. You will have marks in their place tomorrow. He kisses his way to your breasts. His fingers roughly pinching a nipple while his mouth finds the other. Gentle bites on your breasts leave you a moaning mess. He bites and suckles his way to your thighs placing your legs over his shoulders. There is nothing gentle about the way he eats you. His tongue moves in intricate patterns you can’t comprehend. He sucks your clit so hard you see stars. When he slips a finger inside your waiting heat, you shatter. The mantra of his name hasn’t left your lips. He kisses your thigh before positioning himself at your entrance. He plunges inside roughly. One strong hand grips your hips as he claims you. “Feels so good. Oh gods, Y/N.” Long strands of raven hair brush your cheeks as he thrusts into you. He rests his forehead on yours staring intently in your eyes. “Knew it would be good, never imagined it’d be this good.” He pants. He moves his head to the crook of your neck praises spilling from his lips. “Perfect, you’re so perfect.” He moves his hips faster hitting exactly the right spot. You squeeze your legs tighter around his waist as you both unravel. Loki’s breath comes rapidly while he studies your face. “Do you still hate me, Y/N? Considering everything that occurred today, I would not blame you.” You place a soft kiss to his lips. “I never hated you, Loki. I always thought you hated me.” Loki laughs incredulously. “Darling, I was afraid to be close to you. That is why I acted so cold toward you.” You take his hand in yours. “Since we are stuck here for at least another few days, we should get to know each other better. Let’s just see where this goes.” Loki pulls you into his arms while you make a silent wish for more snow. Who would have thought Tony’s idea would work after all?

-

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

we had a chef MC headcanon, now how about M6 when MC made them a meal but it tasted just downright horrible and MC is just kinda oblivious to it, asking M6 with the brightest, most innocent smile "Do you like it?"

i hope you have fun writing this if you do choose this humble request

- 🌼

The Arcana HCs: When MC is a terrible chef

~ this reminds me of the time when teenaged me combined old rice, hot dog chunks, cold broccoli, and buffalo sauce (in one bowl!) for a late-night snack. thank you for the giggles this gave me, yellow flower friend, let's hope I pay them forward! - brainrot ~

-- to set the scene --

Somehow it's been one of those weeks when everything in your food supply begins to reach its end or expiration date at the same time. You know your regular grocery shopping is tomorrow, and you have an extensive list prepared, but dinner is up to you tonight and you don't have anything comprehensive planned. It looks like it's time for your famous "everything but the kitchen sink" stew. You've only made this in the past when it was just you in the shop and you were still figuring out how to cook, but you remember it being fairly edible.

(Continued below the cut)

You get some beans boiling (there hasn't been time to soak them), add a cup or two of vinegar to soften them faster, dice the not-molded parts of a tomato and onion you found at the bottom of a sack, and rinse the slime off of some wilted greens before throwing them in. You're craving something spicy, so you dump in the rest of your chili sauce, but when the steam makes you tear up you scrape out the rest of the mayonnaise to even it out. It was starting to smell funky anyways. Your hand slips when you add the salt, so you pour in some honey to counteract it, and in a final burst of inspiration, you plop in two bananas that have gotten too mushy to eat. The signature suspicious scum of your original dish is just floating to the top of your soup when your beloved returns, hungry from a day of work.

Julian

Too happy to see you to notice the poison on the stove at first

The words die in his throat when he does. Tell him it's a potion. Tell him it's a curse. Tell him it's a prank. Don't tell him, don't tell him it's ... it's dinner, isn't it?

He watches you happily ladle a generous scoop of your curdled concoction into his bowl and gulps. He loves you. He's got this. He will eat your food, he will tell you it's delicious, or he will die trying

He's starting to get caught up in the poetry of it as he sits down across from you. Like a lamb to the slaughter, accepting the sweet taste of death from his beloved's cruel hand - stew isn't supposed to be sweet, oh god why is it sweet

But for his darling's delight, he will overcome -

"Julian, is everything alright? You look like you're about to go on stage."

"Oh, is ah - is that what I look like, my dear?" He's pale and sweating at this point, poorly disguising the tremble in his hand as he brings his second glass of water to his lips

"It's my stew, isn't it?" you dolefully lift a gelatinous spoonful and watch it fall back into your bowl with a sickening squelch. "I remember it tasting weird, but not this weird ..."

"No, no!" His voice cracks against his will as he sees your sadness as proof of his failure. "It's delightful, delicious - worthy of the gods, even." You hear him mumble a prayer for forgiveness under his breath and drop your spoon

"I know when you're acting, Julian."

"Ah, so I - so I am. You know -" he stands abruptly, his chair falling behind him in his haste. "I just remembered that Pasha invited us for dinner tonight. Shall we?"

He's never been so happy to see you walk out his front door

Asra

They can smell it as soon as they walk into the shop and are immediately concerned. That is the smell of death. Why is the smell of death in your shop oh no - "MC? MC, where are you?"

"I'm upstairs!" Thank the patrons, you're okay

Then again, maybe you're not, considering how perfectly comfortable you seem standing over whatever monstrosity is releasing toxic vapors into the atmosphere. Is that ... soup?

Color him intrigued. He's doing his best to hide a laugh and find a way to ask what enabled you to create something so terrifying out of simple kitchen ingredients without insulting you

"So, is this recipe an MC original?"

"Yep!" You smile at him cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the stomach-churning way that the chunks plop from the soup spoon into their bowl. "I always make this when we're running low."

"You've made this before?" They're starting to get concerned again

"Just a few times, when you were on a trip. Do you like it?"

He takes a bite, so intrigued by the way it seems to wriggle down his throat that he tries a second. "I've never had anything like it."

"What do you think of the mayonnaise? It smelled a little funky ..."

We have mayonnaise? They wonder, but on the outside they're still smiling. "It certainly adds to the experience. Is this ... banana?"

"Yeah, it seemed too mushy to eat on its own, so ..."

Asra sets down his miraculously empty bowl with a loving smile. "MC, you shouldn't have to do the cooking so often. Let me help out more often."

Nadia

She doesn't know how it's come to this. Nobody knows how it's come to this, when the Palace kitchen is kept fully stocked and there are chefs available at all hours

But you had said that you missed your home cooking, and she had given you full access to the backup kitchen to do as you pleased, and - ah, the only things kept in there are leftovers

That would explain the stench

Speaking of, her respect for your resilience has reached new heights. How you've been able to survive on your own is a mystery to her. Please tell her this isn't how you ate for three years -

But you seem as deathly serious as the radioactive sludge that's churning in her fine china like a lava lamp, and she realizes that this is going to be a labor of love. She must eat her fill and do so with elegance

You watch her bring the daintiest (read: tiniest) spoon of slime to her lips, pausing to test the aroma before setting her jaw and putting it in her mouth

Oh, look at that, she's already eaten her fill

"MC, my darling, what do you say to an evening walk? It seems I haven't the appetite to dine at this moment, how about a stroll around the palace gardens? The night is still young."

She's relieved at how easily you agree, deeply concerned by the fact that you've already finished half of your bowl, and eager to get you out of the palace so that the maids can make dinner disappear

She's going to lose sleep for the next three months about whether or not she should be honest about what happened to your soup

There's now a bald patch in the grass behind the kitchen that hasn't been able to grow anything in three years. There's a rumor that stepping on it will release a stench so foul that you won't be able to eat for twenty-four hours afterwards

Muriel

He's not too worried. He used to eat spoiled food out of the trash heaps all the time as a kid, he's sure he remembers how

But he's a little surprised that said rotting food is being actively cooked. By you. Seemingly in a choice made of your own free will

He wasn't expecting ... this, but a quick glance around the hut makes it clear to him that nothing terrible has happened, that you seem perfectly sane, and that you don't think anything's wrong

Well, you seem to trust your cooking, and he certainly trusts you, so ...

He side eyes Inanna's dramatic performance of whimpering and pawing at her nose, eventually turning to let her back out of the hut as you serve your bowls with a smile

He takes a glance at his serving as you dig in. Asra still talks about the time he ate a whole chili pepper without flinching - he can do this. He picks up his spoon, scoops up a jiggling chunk, and eats

You're a little surprised at how quickly his bowl disappears. You're not really enjoying your food yourself, but you're not going to judge his strange enthusiasm

"Muriel? If you're still hungry, there's more on the fire ..."

"I'm fine." He's getting out of his habit of depriving food of himself, but in this case, refusing to eat is a personal kindness

He drinks several glasses of water while you finish your dinner, asking you about your day and trying not to grimace at every silent burp that pulls the aftertaste back into his mouth

Inanna buries the rest after the two of you go to bed. Nobody knows how she managed it without opposable thumbs, but everything is possible for a wolf desperate to preserve her nose

Portia

Her brother might be an award-winning actor, but her flair for the dramatic only goes as far as silly little bits designed to make people laugh and pretending that she isn't about to punch somebody

She is a woman who knows her mind, her heart, her strength, and her limits. This is a limit, and she is doing her best to pass it

You can tell right away that she doesn't want to eat what you've made. You've never seen her smile look so uncomfortably tight, and you certainly didn't miss the way her stomach heaved when she leaned over the pot to take a closer look at your creation

But she's insistent on going through with your evening, even steering you towards the kitchen table and serving the bowls herself. She tries so very hard to mask the look of revulsion on her face when different chunks of stew jiggle at different frequencies

She places your bowls on the table and lifts her spoon, waiting for you to take the first bite in the hopes that your eyes will be opened and you'll insist on eating something else

No such luck. You're two spoonfuls in, so in the spirit of keeping an open mind, she loads up her utensil and shoves it in her mouth

You weren't expecting to be sprayed by the choke that seizes her, but sitting across from her puts you in the splatter zone and you're quick to give her your napkin and ask if she's okay

She nods weakly, looking slightly green. "MC," she says, "you are definitely stronger than I imagined." She takes another look at the gelatinous blobs on her table. "Stronger than you need to be."

She dusts off her hands and practically drags you out of the cottage. "Let's eat out tonight! My treat. And I just had the best idea for our next date night - we should take cooking lessons together!"

Lucio

He notices Mercedes and Melchior acting up on the way back to your campsite, but doesn't have any idea why until he gets a whiff and - oh, that is nasty

Some kind of skunk jacked up on magic must have done that, never fear, MC! He's here to save the day now - what do you mean that's dinner? That is not dinner. Dinner is not supposed to smell like that

He's not sparing a second to consider manners or acting. Lucio calls it like he sees it, and all he sees is poison

"MC, do we have to? It smells so bad, look at it MC, just loo - bleugh - no I'm not being dramatic! The smell made me gag for real, watch!"

And he leans over the pot again, just to take a deep lungful and subsequently let out the most visceral gagging belch you've ever witnessed

"See? It's bad, it's really bad, and I don't want to eat it! Why are you being so mean to me, MC?"

To be honest, you're not particularly excited to eat it either, but it's all you've got until you make it to the next town tomorrow, so you tell him as much as his pout slowly deepens

"Fine, I'll do it. I guess it can't be that bad if you made it -" He watches the way it slops into his bowl and gulps. "I take it back."

Sure it's a little spicier and clumpier and saltier and sickly sweeter than you planned, but you're able to stomach it just fine

And to your surprise, Lucio can too. He complains loudly the whole time, but his whining somehow grants him the ability to eat three full bowls

"See, you ate so much of it!"

"Well of course!" he puffs out his chest proudly. "I'm the best. At least it's not as bad as what we had in the army. But - MC?" he looks at you with pleading eyes, "please don't make that again."

[neerdowellnarrator]

hi hi hello, my love for greek mythos is being ignited SO strongly and you are a VISIONARY, so this is an open invitation to talk about jace and jaceclones as the women of mycenea! please share any and all thoughts and reasoning you wish 👀

Obligatory disclaimer, I am not a classicist and haven't read the Illiad or the Oresteia trilogy in a hot minute. I do however have a bachelors degree in Jace Stardiamond studies and am working on my vibes-based PhD thesis so actually I'm an expert and everything I say is correct. Now let's talk about the jaceclones:

J2 as Iphigenia:

J2 the innocent, J2 the acolyte, J2 the sacrificial lamb. Iphigenia was a priestess of Artemis, you know, before that same goddess ordered her death. She spent her life in service to her god only to be murdered for her father's fuck-up. What justice.

Iphigenia does not know she is going to her death. She thinks she is going to her wedding. She does not know until the last moment that the alter she stands before is for sacrifice, not matrimony. She's so busy looking into the eyes of her "fiance" that she does not see the knife.

I'll say this for J2. He sees the knife. He saw the knife a mile away and still put on the veil (obscuring his view) and went to the alter. His god has decreed it. Maybe he will get to die a married man. Maybe his blood staining holy stones is the closest he'll get to divinity.

In the kind versions, Iphigenia is spirited away by Artemis at the last second. God says to Iphigenia, to Isaac, to Bluejay: "I was only kidding. I don't want you dead. I just ordered your murder as a test and you passed. I love you."

We tell a lot of stories in our little circle. Very few of them are kind.

J3 as Helen:

J3 wishes his face would launch a thousand ships. He wants to be so desirable he starts a war and so empty that no one asks what he thinks about it. He wants a goddess of lust to declare him her favorite. He wants to be wanted so much that men swear to kill and die for the chance to have him.

He wants to stare at the bodies of soldiers who died for him and say "oh what a whore am I." He wants lustful men to put words in his mouth to degrade him. He wants to be mistranslated in a way that makes him sexier, more alluring. He wants to be so lost in translation he ceases to be a person and becomes only an hourglass silhouette on a much-fingered page.

He wants everyone to want him so badly they hate him for it. He wants them to never forgive him.

J3 wants to be Helen so badly and fails to realize that he is already her in every way that matters: trapped and miserable, with no agency over his own life.

J4 as Electra:

Electra's sister's blood starts her story. She sees her sister, Iphigenia, die with a trusting smile, she sees her aunt, Helen, be stolen and locked away. She sees that the only way out is through. She sees red.

Red as in anger, certainly, but also red as in blood as she murders her mother, who murdered her father, who murdered her sister, who murdered nobody at all and died first anyway. Is this justice? This is the justice the gods will give her.

Electra's brother will suffer for their crime. Electra herself, however, walks away. She washes the blood off her hands. She tries to build a life.

J4 would murder her creator and walk away. She wants to. She wants to kill her god and save herselves. In the good ending, she does. In the bad ending...

J4 as Cassandra:

J4 knows what's coming. She knows they're doomed. She can do nothing. She rages, she screams, she refuses to fall into Porter's bed, she tries to save the others from doing the same. It's not enough.

Cassandra is captured and ensalved by Iphigenia's murderer, and she herself is murdered by Electra's murder victim. An alternate version of herself trying to save her, but, like J4 being too late to save herself.

[666writingcafe]

The Prank

Belphegor

I should have known better. I really should have. I mean, it was weird that no one stopped me as I went to the planetarium, and it was outright bizarre that none of my brothers barged in the room as I sat down in my favorite chair and got comfortable.

But then Mammon ruined everything when he screamed,

"Which one of you fuckers took my jacket?!" Sighing, I got up and walked out of the room to see what was going on. If I didn't, I would have been dragged out anyway.

"I don't know, but someone took my limited edition Ruri-chan bracelet, and I will literally kill you if you sold it!" Levi yells back.

"What makes you think I took it?!" I wish I could just disappear into thin air. I want no part in this.

"Because you always take my shit!"

"I bet he took my choker, too!" Asmo hollers. Whatever squabbling the three of them were going to do gets cut short by Lucifer loudly demanding everyone to head to the living room this very instant. Groaning, I do what I am told. As much as I don't want to be lectured, I know that if I try to hide, he will find me and force me to listen to him for hours on end. Better to get it over with now.

۞۞۞

"One of you has taken my nice pair of gloves," Lucifer states once we are all gathered around in the living room. "The punishment will be less severe if the thief fesses up now."

"I bet it was Mammon!" Asmo exclaims.

"It wasn't even me!" Mammon nearly shrieks, making me feel like my eardrums are going to burst. "Besides, has it occurred to any of you that my jacket's missing, too?"

"You probably hid it somewhere after you took the gloves so that you could distract us," Levi spits. Before Mammon has the opportunity to lunge at Levi, Satan interjects,

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Mammon's right."

"Thank you!" Either Mammon's missed the resignation in Satan's voice, or he's simply latching onto the compliment.

"You may be a fool, but you've never been that stupid. Someone else must have stolen the gloves, along with everything else." Asmo gasps.

"I bet it was you, Satan!" A new round of arguments starts, and I begin zoning out.

Suddenly, I catch movement in my upper periphery. Shifting my attention towards the source, I have to stop myself from making noise. Leaning against the door frame behind everyone is MC, smirking at the scene unfolding in front of them.

The first thing I notice is my stuffed cow. MC has it tucked under their arm. Then, everything else clicks into place. The gloves, the jacket, the choker, and the bracelet. Beel's sunglasses are on top of their head, which means the boots they're wearing must be Satan's.

I can't even be mad at MC for plunging the House into chaos. After all, who would suspect the innocent lamb of doing such a thing? It's genius.

But now comes the hard part: getting my brothers' attention. They're sucked into their screaming match, so trying to talk would be pointless. Normally, I would nudge Beel, but he's unusually invested this time. I quickly glance around the room, but there isn't anything that I can bang that wouldn't break upon impact.

My eyes catch MC's, who repositions the cow so that both they and it are looking at me. MC then brings a stuffed hoof to its mouth and rocks its head slightly. It takes me a second to understand what MC was suggesting, but once I do, I subtly nod my head.

Bringing my own fingers to my mouth, I take a deep breath and let out a loud whistle that pierces through everyone's arguing. My brothers gawk at me for interrupting them, silently demanding an explanation.

"Turn around, assholes," I tell them. Once they do, the energy of the room shifts real quickly. Tucking the cow back under their arm, MC wiggles their fingers in greeting. This causes Levi to scream,

“AAAAAH! Wha…wha…WHA?! Is this really…are you really really…REALLY?!” MC smiles.

"MC, it's you!" Asmo adds. "It's really you!" Before the others can get a word in, Lucifer holds up a hand to silence us.

"MC, what are you doing here?" he asks. "More importantly, why do you have our stuff?"

"Solomon dropped me off," MC answers. "I wanted to surprise you guys. As for why I have your stuff..." They pause. "I just thought it would be fun to pull a prank. I never got to take part in any of that the last time." Lucifer sighs, a resigned smile on his lips. He is such a sucker for them. I mean, we all are, but him especially.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you seem to be doing well. I do wish you could have let us know you were coming. We would have planned something for you."

"The whole thing was last-minute. Plus, the whole point of a surprise is that you're not supposed to know about it in advance."

"Good point."

"If I'd known you were coming, MC, I would've opted for a much more thorough shower routine this morning!" Asmo exclaims, beaming with excitement.

"Gross," I mutter.

"You look just as exquisite as ever, Asmo," MC replies.

"Besides, you took long enough in the bathroom this morning," Satan adds. "Why you insist on using the main one when you have your own, I will never know."

"Are you going to be staying for a while?" I ask MC in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Asmo and his bathroom habits. They nod their head.

"Diavolo has requested my presence to help him with the next stage of the exchange program."

"Just you?" This has everyone's attention.

"The others are here as well." Seeing a few sets of eyes narrow, MC quickly adds,

"In the Devildom, I mean, not here in the House. They have Purgatory Hall, remember?" That seems to calm everyone down.

"So, MC, what do you want for dinner?" Beel asks.

[littleliquor]

When Daylight Fades (pt. 3)

Note: Wednesday’s coming in part 5 (posting later so stay tuned)! I figured out how to head into her story over my lunch break. This chapter is going to be a bit of a bonding time. A little lighthearted (or not?) Feel free to leave me a message if you want more :)

Summary: Witch!Reader receives an unexpected visit from her “Coven family” who delivered a word of wisdom that upset her. Tyler opened up about his anger towards his mother’s passing and outcasts. The two bonded over the treatment towards Hydes from the outcasts. 

Warning: 

Part 1   Part 2   Part 4   Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

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No one ever told me what to do when your sunshine in life became darkness. No one ever told me how addictive and how much I’d want it more as the darkness crept over him. Tyler was the light in this life to guide me through the clouds and shadows. But the more the darkness of Hyde became him, somehow I wanted more. I wanted more darkness, more shadows, on him and finally onto me. It felt as if a lifetime of bloodlust that lurked within me had finally gained its vicarious outlet.  

It started off as vengeance, when normies stormed into my village with flaming torches and pitchforks, killing my kins like lambs to their slaughter. So I hunted them down, one by one, until I was strong enough. Then I took their entire village same way they took mine, sparing no souls behind. At one point, I grew weary and fearful of what I had become. But then I began to enjoy it. Each life I took, I took joyously. The scream of the dying made my heart race and my blood boil. 

Until I met Tyler. For the first time in many lives, I remembered the smaller things that brought me so much happiness. Playing make believes in treehouse, skipping rocks by the river side… For once, I wanted to be normal, without the burden and the sickly urge to harm. 

Chatters in the quad were usual in the morning. What was unusual was the unsettling and worrisome atmosphere surrounding it. 

“Y/N!” Bianca waved at me to the fountain. “Where have you been last night?” Her clear blue eyes had concern written all over them. 

“I spent the night at Tyler’s. What’s wrong? Wait, you didn’t tell anyone I wasn’t here, right?” I lowered my voice. 

“Of course not! What kind of friend do you think I am? Haven’t you heard? Some kids were murdered in the woods last night. I thought you were one of them.” She showed me the news on her phone. 

“Can’t say I have heard.” I denied swiftly, frowning at the news content. 

Gruesome Murder of Four Teenagers Found in The Woods. 

“Speaking of, judging from your constant sleepovers, it’s safe to assume that your dates’ been going well?” Bianca’s lips curled up into a sly smirk. “I didn’t even know when you guys started!” 

“It was, dramatic.” I laughed dryly. Whatever happened in the cave wasn’t something you could just share to everyone. 

“Not the type I’d imagined you’d like but I’m happy for you.” Bianca shrugged, giving me a cheeky wink before walking to her class. 

At our herbology class, I couldn’t help but noticed that Thornhill’s eyes kept flowing to my direction, colder and colder with each glare. If I was an innocent teenage girl, her looks could send some proper chills down my spine. Luckily, I was not. 

“I heard you got closer to the sheriff’s son.” Xavier turned around to my desk, whispering in a tone which I could only identified as disappointment. 

“The rumour’s true.” I spun my pen in between my fingers with a carefree attitude, though deep down, I felt apologetic for dating the person who ran with his bullies. “I’m sorry what he and his friends did to you…” 

“No, it’s cool. I just want to… warn you. He’s bad news.” Xavier sighed, shaking his head with a bitter smile. 

“You do realize the more you tell me not to do something, the more I want to do that right?” I joked lightheartedly, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere. 

“I sure do. Just be careful.” He scoffed quietly. 

I went to the Weathervane after the fencing practice. Seemingly it had become a part of my daily routine to sneak off to see Tyler. Weathervane at the late night hour was about as quiet as a graveyard. As I walked through the door, his eyes shot from behind the counter. A big, stupid grin crept onto his face. 

“You’re late today!” Tyler leaned against the counter, beaming with my usual order in his hand. 

“Do you say that to every customer?” I gawked, brushing his hand while picking up the coffee. 

“Only reserved for my special VIP.” 

As I turned around, I noticed a certain familiar figure sitting at my usual booth, one I could never forget, as much as I wished. Draped in her tightly fitted leather jacket and six-inch killer stiletto heels. A wide grin pulled her red lips ear to ear as I reciprocated to her anticipating gaze. I let out a long, somber sigh, sitting down across her. 

“Joy, what are you doing here?” I pursed my lips together in an unconcealed annoyance. 

“Y/N, I’m doing fine. Thanks a lot for asking.” Joy didn’t not find my aloofness to be strange. I didn’t want to see her and she was well-acquainted with my disdain towards most members of the Coven. The idea of “big family” didn’t quite sit well with me. 

“You didn’t come all the way from Europe for small talks, did you?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, leaning back to the chair. 

“I believe it would be even more torturous to you if my answer was yes. Luckily, no.” Joy swept her hair behind her shoulder, speaking in a volume only we could hear. “I’m here to warn you. I’m worried. I’d seen how hard you’ve tried to steer away from your history. I just don’t want you to repeat it. Being close to a creature of violence and darkness will only derail you from the path you’ve been building.” 

“I already told you, I know what I’m doing. I don’t need your lecture.” I said, stirring my coffe in a swift, clockwise motion. 

“Think about it. Centuries ago, you wouldn’t let yourself be in a crowd of normies without killing at least a few. Right now, you have the power to wipe out this entire town or turn them against one another in the blink of an eye and yet you didn’t. That was more self-control and determination than I’ve ever seen in a lot of witches. I don’t want you to let that all go to waste. I know you don’t believe you need any of us but…” Joy propped her elbows on the table, looking into eyes with a candidness that I didn’t believe. 

“Where were you when I needed saving? When they burnt me on the stake, I called for you. No one came. Now you expect me to believe a word that came out of your snake’s tongue? You have no rights to come up here in the first place.” I narrowed my eyes. In front of her, I could barely hold the rage that burned from the depth of my stomach. A rage that I’d been repressing for longer than I remembered. 

Joy opened her lips for a moment, but then decided against it. She sighed in dejection as she stood up from the seat. 

“Say what you want. If you need me, us, in anyway, you know how to find me.” That was the last words she left before the clacking sound of her heels headed out of Weathervane. 

I placed my palms over my face and took a deep breath to regain my poise. I knew Joy cared about me truly but I would give up the world before I give up on Tyler. I wondered if the path of darkness was the only path I could walk with him by my side, or could things be different. 

The moment my father found out about my abilities, I noticed the way he looked at me changed. I wasn’t the innocent little girl he nurtured, but a creature that sends chills down his spine the more I stayed under his roof. He didn’t desert his responsibilities, of course, no. He merely avoided anything more than that. 

I was left on my own for a very long time, until the Coven recovered me. They took me in like one of their own. Yet, none of their pretentious kindness could repent for their indifference when I called for their help at my demise, last demise. 

As I placed my hands back on the coffee, my eyes were met by a pair of turquoise ones. I jumped slightly out of shock. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I thought I saw you guys arguing over something. You look pretty upset there.” Tyler placed a freshly baked scone in front of me. Even the plate was lukewarm. The chocolate scent was enough to make anyone’s day. 

“It’s just some… family business. She means no harm.” I smiled dryly, poking the pastry with a fork. Tyler’s look softened when I mentioned “no harm”. Part of me was relieved that I didn’t accidentally murdered the Supreme of my own Coven. “Joy is the leader of my Coven. She just dropped by to see if I was doing alright in Nevermore.” 

“Not much of a happy kind of family reunion?” Tyler asked, fingers twitching lightly in a quiet, nervous disposition. 

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, I’m kind of the rebel in the family. Surely even my dad has talked to yours about just how much of a headache I am.” I shrugged. It didn’t bother me much that my troubling nature had been found rather unbecoming by many more around me. Not that I cared enough to change. 

“I might have overheard. Not to me though, you aren’t.” He gleamed comfortingly.

“Then you clearly don’t know me well enough.” I bit down on my lower lip. There were many secrets to a person that should never be uncovered. Some past were too grim to be heard of on this earth again. Tyler’s look lingered on me, searching for a non-existing sign that I was joking around. 

“I don’t want to pressure you. I think, when you’re willing to let me in, you’d be surprised.” He was reluctant to give up on pursuing for the skeletons I kept behind my closet, but my silence and unsettling did seem to worry him. 

“I could say the same about you. You know, therapist aren’t your only outlet. I’m always here if you need me.” My fingers danced along the veins on the back of his hand, expecting him to become defensive and withdrawing just as the first time I visited him after his mother’s wake. The image of him slamming the door with a stone-cold look was burnt in the back of my mind. At time, I stopped talking to him altogether to avoid agitating him further, in hopes that he would be in good hand with his father. However, it didn’t seem to be the case at all. 

Tyler didn’t shy away from my touch or my attempt to opening him up about his mother this time. He turned his wrist up, smoothing over my pulse point.

“I’m angry, had been since she was gone. He… uh, doesn’t want to talk about her at all. And you, you stopped talking to me for some reasons. Somehow, I’ve never felt more… alone.” 

“I thought you needed your peace when I visited after the wake. I’m sorry I didn’t come check up on you sooner.” 

“I did slammed the door… You have every right to keep the distance from me. I should be saying sorry to you. But that’s not what I was angry about.” Tyler shook his head. He was smiling but tears were glistening in his eyes. 

“Then what is it?” 

“You see, a while after she passed. Your teacher came to me, claiming that she knew the true reason why Mom made that decision. Mom used to go to Nevermore, but when she needed their help, they never gave her any help nor guidance. They were all too scared. Ironic, isn’t? Outcasts fearing another outcast. It’s their rejection and isolation that pushed her off the cliff. All her life, she thought that was a place where she belonged and it betrayed her when she needed them most.” As Tyler explained, his expression darkened with a ghastly shadow, cold, angry, almost sadistic. It was a look that I’d never seen on him before, except for the time when he looked at my bullies outside of Weathervane. 

“Fear makes people do things. As far as I know, several Hydes were accepted in Nevermore throughout its long history, until they were banned for being too violent, unpredictable and uncontrollable.” I pursed my lips in disapproval, having known far too well how fear makes the worst in people magnify in the most catastrophic way. “That’s a crock of shit. People fear things that they don’t understand, but they don’t seek ways to understand it.” 

I had gone through some readings about the school’s history for leisure entertainment. The accepting and inspection on the species stopped after a terrible incident inside the school. A whole hall student population was wiped out overnight as a Hyde lost control. They did nothing to help, simply keeping all Hydes out as if they never existed. I’d seen it far too many times. A fate like this often happens between human and outcasts. Luckily, outcasts built themselves a safety haven that was Nevermore. Casted out by outcasts? That was the true tragedy. 

“You think there’s a way to control… it?” Tyler’s eyes shot up to mine, gazing into mine with disbelief. 

“There has to.” I rested my face on my palm, reaffirming with a seething determination.

[justarandomlambblog]

Morning Twilight

He is meditating.

It’s the first thing they notice as they step out of the hut they share with their siblings; their brother, beloved as he was once feared, sits in the field in the early morning twilight, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. 

It’s improper posture for proper meditation, but Shamura supposes that doesn’t matter now.

His back is to the village, knowing well that the greatest threat to his safety comes from beyond the trees, and what little they can see of his face is obscured by his veil, but Shamura imagines that his eyes are closed.

They consider their options for a moment; it is too early for anyone other than the Lamb, the night guards and that day’s designated kitchen staff to be awake, and Narinder himself often stays in his hut until well into the day, when he is certain he won’t need to face his once-siblings. 

If Narinder is out this early, it means one thing; Aym and Baal are with their mother and Narinder could not sleep.

Making their decision, Shamura folds their hands under their robes and approaches their brother.

Narinder’s ear twitches as they sit next to him, and he makes no complaint. It’s as close to an invitation as he’ll willingly give.

(Shamura remembers, in fragments, a kit standing in their library, wide eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. A moment that, at the time, had felt so innocent, so normal- of course Shamura would share their library, their knowledge, with their younger brother. It’s a choice Shamura often regrets; would things have been different, they wonder, had they listened to the Elders and discouraged Narinder from learning? If their brother had only read the books on his own domain- had he learned only what he needed to know, would anything have changed at all?)

Shamura closes their eyes, breathing out steadily. Blood drips down their face, the injury just as fresh as the day Narinder gave it to them.

“You should have changed your bandages first,” Narinder says lowly, voice oddly soft. 

“I am no stranger to blood, brother,” they answer simply. “No, no stranger to blood... this has been our lives for a millennium now. I am no stranger to blood.”

There’s no answer, and they continue to sit in silence as the sun slowly rises above the treeline. Behind them Shamura can hear window shutters starting to open as the early risers of the village begin their day.

“... I apologize for what I did to you,” Narinder says, voice hardly more than a whisper, but his words echo in Shamura’s ears. They open their eyes and glance at Narinder, finding his two eyes still closed but his third cracked open, gazing in their direction. “I was angry and lost control of myself. It is no excuse. I have lived every day for a thousand years regretting it.”

Shamura takes a moment to collect their thoughts, clinging to this moment almost desperately. Memories, they find, are hard to hold onto, but they don’t want to forget this. “Why?” they ask, closing their eyes again. “You did what you had to in order to escape. Who can fault one for that? Any of us would have done the same.”

“... You did not forget me,” Narinder says, as if it explains everything. “You thought of me. I could feel your grief every day. And you gave me Aym and Baal.”

“... I did not want you to be alone.”

Its a confession they vaguely remember telling the Lamb, but words they have never told Narinder himself. Of course, they hadn’t ever visited Narinder in that between place before; the Afterlife is not a place for the living, after all, and until Shamura was slain they had no right to walk into that blinding light.

(They don’t remember what it was like, being dead. They would think it a relief, a mercy, if they didn’t know how much care their brother put into shaping the worlds for every soul that passed through his gates. Curiosity, after all, is what drives discovery, and discovery creates knowledge; and curiosity, as such, burns inside them, wondering about what After world their brother would have given them to.)

“Thank you,” Narinder says softly, and Shamura doesn’t respond. They don’t need to.

“... I apologize, as well,” Shamura says instead. Narinder tenses next to them as they continue, “The prophecy we received did not need to come true. It was merely a self fulfilling prophecy; in our attempts to stop it from coming to be, we simply set the act in motion. From the moment we fought over your ideas, we were already lost.

“Only, instead of being lost as a family, we lost it all.” They open their eyes and turn to look at Narinder, only to find him looking back at them. “We said that death is unchangeable, but how could we make judgment over your domain? Perhaps it was not your ideas we feared, but change itself.”

Shamura looks out over the fields as the first of the farmers begin their morning tending, the roots and vegetables not quite ready to be picked. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that Shamura is no longer used to.

“Perhaps the world was ready to change,” they finish.

There is silence for only a few moments, and then Narinder laughs- something deep and quiet, not really amused. It’s the kind of laugh one laughs when something tragically ironic occurs, when one laughs because the only alternative is to cry.

He turns away.

“The irony,” Narinder starts softly, “is now that I live among the realization of my plans, I am finding it... lacking.”

“How so?” Shamura asks.

“It appears that, with the absence of permanent death, the living have lost value for life,” Narinder explains simply, finally folding his hands in front of himself. “Without an end, life ceases to be precious. My gates are never empty of souls, for the false idol only holds onto those under their care, yet just this night alone I have seen what the living will do when they do not fear the permanence of death.”

“Perhaps one day you can find beauty in that. It is what you wanted all those years ago.”

“But not like this,” Narinder says. “Resurrection was not meant to be used so frivolously. Death was never meant to be avoided completely. There are worlds beyond my gates for every one of these souls, sitting empty now. Perhaps the resurrected would prefer to be there- but how would they know? They are not like you or the other Bishops, nor like Aym and Baal or even the false idol. They cannot remember After.”

Shamura refrains from stating that they do not either; hours, at length, spoken with Heket, Leshy and Kallamar have all but confirmed that they couldn’t remember the world that Narinder had carved out for them, either.

(Or maybe they lie and just don’t want to remember.)

“Yet, I suppose you are correct,” Narinder gives. “This is ultimately how resurrection would always go. The living fear what they do not know, and no matter how many sermons are given, they will always fear the After. This is how it always would have ended. I should have listened to you.”

“Perhaps we should have all listened to each other,” Shamura compromises, unfolding their lower hands. They set one on Narinder’s shoulder and ignore the flinch he gives. “Perhaps we should have had a conversation, rather than a screaming match?”

Narinder relaxes, leaning into Shamura’s touch, and Shamura is reminded that he likely hasn’t been touched in a thousand years. Sure, they know, he likely held Aym and Baal when they were confused and scared kits in need of guidance still, but a giant would hardly even feel the touch of an ant.

They pretend not to notice, for his pride’s sake.

“I must take my leave now,” Shamura says. “I am meant to be helping with breakfast.”

“Go, then.” Narinder hesitates as Shamura stands, then adds, “Thank you for sitting with me. I...”

I missed this, are the words he doesn’t say. Shamura hears them anyway.

“I feel the same,” Shamura says, smiling at him. “We should speak more often. I have missed you, brother.”

With those words, Shamura turns and walks towards the kitchen. They trace over every word that was spoken, repeating the scene over and over again.

They don’t want to forget it.

[baddieladdie]

Hello!! So I'm an RPer (gross) and I dabble with Joshua Graham. I do cross-canon occasionally and I have stumbled on weird romantic (maybe??) tension with him and RE5/blonde Jill Valentine based on the fact they both were manipulated by someone they respected and did horrible things (even if hers were against her will and he did them by choice) and it's become this heavy, weird tension full of lame, longing gazes and pretty decent fight scenes! Is it possible to get them together? 😬

Regardless, stumbled on your work and I love it!! 😍

I have not played Resident Evil, actually! I had to look up who Jill Valentine was, at first I thought she was Nick Valentine's daughter in some AU\

SO - How 'bout this? I will get us started with some opening context on Joshua Graham. Then you could take it from there? I have a feeling you are a bit more familiar with Jill than I am :)

Tag me if you add on to this - I'd love to give a read!

An idea for a structure could be:

Ch1 - Joshua Graham (see below the cut) Ch2 - Jill Valentine Ch3 - Combat/Meet-cute, Joshua and Jill meet in fire fight Ch4 - Connection/Tension/Romance

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Rating: Teen

Description: Mormon missionary turned co-founder of Caesar's Legion now roams Zion under the guise of folk legends as the Burned Man. He is haunted by his actions while part of the Legion, yet cannot so easily release his dependence on violence as he leads a vicious campaign to bring 'God's justice' to all those who would threaten the safety of the innocent.

Joshua drags his thumb across the bumpy ridges of his Bible. Absent-mindedly, he traces each letter stitched into the black leather. The book was worn down. It could hardly be recognized for what it was - the Holy word of God. The book, like Joshua the man, had been irritably changed in time by the unforgiving nature of this mortal life. Joshua flips through the book, pausing at a page crinkled by a dried blood stain.

18 For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, 19 but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. 1 Peter 1:18-19

“Divide et impera,”  Edward exclaimed, gesturing to his beloved novel ‘Commentarii de Bello Gallico’. “Divide and Conquer. Joshua, this is just like the Roman Empire of great! We conquer these tribes and we make them better. Stronger! Outfit them with weapons and battle strategies. From this tribal strife, we will raise a great and mighty empire!” Sallow laughed with cynical joy.

“It is brutal,” Joshua mumbled in thought. Edward had studied all his life with the Followers of the Apocalypse. His knowledge of societal development and anthropology were next to none. Perhaps Sallows knew something he didn’t. And the good Lord knows it’s good to have friends. He should trust Edward to the very end. Joshua nodded hesitantly,“What better way to unify these groups than under the threat of death. They would have a better chance of surviving if they worked together.” 

“Yes, yes!” Edward walked around the table to get closer to the hesitant missionary and man he called friend. “Leave the brutality to the soldiers. I-” He awkwardly cleared his throat and corrected himself, “We only need you to translate.” He gestured openly with a wide smile. “You’ll never have an opportunity like this again, my friend.”

So that is what Joshua Graham did. He translated for Edward as he spoke to the crowds of tribals he had gathered. But soon, translating became giving orders. Giving orders slowly became leading in battle. Leading in battle became training, punishing, terrorizing. A series of small mistakes before Joshua Graham's great fall.

In time, he would become Caesar’s second in command and most trusted advisor. Never had Graham held such power. Death came as he demanded it. Riches poured from the Earth as he wished it. It was as if the very thread of fate was his to design. 

Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole. Galatians 3:13

Sweat beaded at the tip of Joshua’s nose as the Mojave sun beat down on him. Sand carried in the wind irritated his skin. He cursed, putting the hammer down for a moment to adjust the legionary mask snuggly around his nose and mouth.

“Please, I haven’t done anything wrong. Let me go!” The man cried in desperate agony, trying to pull his hand free from where it had been nailed to the cross. Blood spurted generously from the wound Joshua had inflicted. The naked man screamed from a place of consuming pain, but no living soul was around to hear. Their only witnesses were the bodies left in Joshua’s wake. And the man’s pleas meant nothing to the heart that had hardened inside him. Joshua had heard the dying screams of men, women, and children far to often to feel anything at all. He was as stoic as the corpses behind them. 

Graham leaned over the man screaming and punched him squarely in the jaw. The jaw swung open lazily, the man stared up at Joshua horrified that he could no longer speak. Joshua firmly grasped the man’s free hand and pinned it to the right arm of the wooden cross. The man under him squirmed in futile effort to free himself from his inevitable fate. The hammer came down swiftly, pushing the rusty nail through the delicate flesh of the man’s palm. Blood sprinkled Joshua’s legion uniform. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. No matter - his job here was done. The resistance group dead and their leader crucified. With a grunt of effort, Joshua stood the cross up. It was an eyesore against the flat desert landscape. However, it sufficiently served as a warning to any who would cross Caesar and his legion. 

Joshua dusted himself off and stowed his hammer away. He turned his back on the suffering man and walked slowly across the desert plain back home. Home to Caesar’s legion. 

John answered them all, “I baptize you with water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. Luke 3:16

The nervous raw recruits stumbled forward towards the center of the dam. The veteran's stood before the Malpais Legate (Joshua Graham), silently recalling their first battles as a raw recruit. Joshua felt no remorse. He had followed the Legion military doctrine excellently. They had the enemy on the run and he intended to leave no survivors. Dead men tell no tales.

THUNK

The legionary veteran collapsed next to Graham, a bullet wound oozing from the back of his head. Instinctively, he traced the bullet's trajectory to a platoon of sharpshooters. The First Recon of the New California Republic.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

Bodies of veteran soldiers fell around him at an alarming rate. "Fall back!" the Malpais Legate cried. The raw recruits panicked at the order, dropping their weapons and running for their lives. More experienced soldiers simply pivoted and ran for the ridge.

THUNK THUNK

Bodies of legionaries continued to mount as they made their escape towards the pass through the ridge. Joshua's eye was caught by a glint in the afternoon sunlight. More First Recon shoots and NCR rangers. It was a trap - this whole damn time! Joshua cursed himself, then Caesar for underestimating Chief Hanlon. Swallowing his rising panic, he shouted over the pop of rifles, "Be weary of crossfire! To Boulder City! For Caesar!"

The is when he lost the remainder of his good men. Boulder City wasn't just protected by rangers and sharpshoots. The whole damn city was rigged to explode. Mines and traps lined every square inch of the town. The opposition, having placed them, evaded the threats, only luring the legionaries in further. What was meant to be a great victory for the mighty Caesar had become a costly defeat.

-

veni , vidi, victus

-

"Mighty Caesar," Joshua approached his life-long friend's throne. "We have lost this battle, but not the war. I won't give up. We-"

"You will do no such thing," Edward barked at him. "Your failure has brought shame to the great legion of Caesar! Such a disgrace will not be tolerated, Malpais Legate." Sallow spat his words with such vile hate, Joshua could no longer recognize him. The personification of the roman emperor, Caesar Augustus, had finally consumed the former- follower of the apocalypse completely. No more was Joshua's friend present before him.

"And for your transgression against the might of Caesar, you shall be burned to death!" Caesar shouted til he was red in the face. "Legionaries! Cover the former-Malpais Legate in pitch, lit him on fire and cast him into the Grand Canyon!"

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and it to the full. John 10:10

“Life has not been good to us without your guidance, Joshua.” Follows-Chalk guided a stumbling Joshua Graham through the Dead Horse camp. “We tried to live in your ways but have been driven from our home. With your return, we can take back Zion from the White Legs.”

"I am sorry to hear what has come to pass. God willing, I can undo the harm that has been done here."

"What...happened to you, Joshua?" Follows-Chalk paused, noticing that Joshua had been lagging behind.

"I do not enjoy reflecting, but I pray to God that someone may learn from my mistakes. Was there something specific, Follows-Chalk?"

Follows-Chalk eyed the puss oozing from the bandages around Joshua's face. His bloodshot eyes and uneven gait all clearly showed the man was in undeniable pain.

"How did you survive, Joshua? Such a fall would have killed most men."

"I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me. I feel down into that dark chasm, but the flame burned on and on. The next morning, I woke up and crawled out of the northern edge of the Grand Canyon, that cursed place. It took me three months to return."

Follows-Chalk hung to every word of Joshua's tragic downfall, guiding him to the healer's tent and away from the gaze of the merciless sun.

"The Dead Horses are happy you have returned to us. You are welcome to stay," Follows-Chalk spoke sympathetically. He opened the tent wide for Joshua. The man hissed at the pain as he crouched under the flap to enter the room. "You have been good to us, Joshua."

"You are kind to offer," Joshua groaned as he lowered himself onto a straw mat. A woman rushed over with a basin of clean water and bandages. "It never stops burning. My skin. Every day, I have to unwind the bandages and replace them with fresh ones." He nodded his thanks to the woman. She smiled politely and awkwardly shuffled out. "Exposing my body to the air is like living through it again. But it's better to be clean than comfortable."

Follows-Chalk nodded and turned away to give the Burned Man space to clean his wounds. "Have you met Daniel? He is a missionary like you."

"Who?"

"A Mormon, like you Joshua. He is helping the Sorrows not far from here."

"Take me to him," Joshua gasped in a pain as he removed a bandage that has wound had adhered too. Fresh blood trickled down his back. "In the morning. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. And there is much to do. God be with you, Follows-Chalk."

Like an enemy he has strung his bow; his right hand is ready…he has poured out his wrath like fire on the tent of Daughter Zion. Lamentations 2:4

"Ye have sown death and so shall ye reap it!" Joshua roared, lunging towards the remaining White Legs tribals. He greedily drove his knife into the back of tribal, revealing in the screams of man he had not heard in years.

The lost courier beside him fired lucky shots from a .45 pistol. The bodies of White Legs fell around them until only Salt-Upon-Wounds remained alive.

Joshua stood over Salt-Upon-Wounds. His jagged features highlighted in the dim firelight. It was akin to watching a skilled hunter taunt and play with its prey as it made feeble attempts to escape. "We warned you at Syracuse, and you persisted. You took advantage of us at New Canaan to drive us out, and like the dogs of Caesar you are, you followed us to Zion. And now you stand on holy ground, a temple to God's glory on Earth. But the only use for an animal in our temple is sacrifice!" He smiled grimly at the terror in Salt-Upon-Wounds as the tribal leader curled in terror under Joshua's gaze. "Kale watcha nei conserva oh! You understand me, don't you? Don't you?!"

"Outman!" Salt-Upon-Wounds hissed at the mentally distant courier. "Kuma-man mad! He has killed all White Legs. Please, you talk. You stop this!"

"Stand up and look at what's come for you!" Joshua pulled the tribal leader to his feet. Salt-Upon-Wounds raised trembling hands behind his head.

"Don't listen to this… thing!" Joshua spat. "His cries are those of a mad beast caught in a thicket! He gave no mercy to my family, and I will give none to his!"

The courier squinted their eyes at Joshua, "Is this coming from the missionary Joshua Graham or Malpais Legate? This is brutal and beyond reason. You know it is. Look Joshua, you've already won," The courier gestured to the bodies of the dead that surrounded them. "There's no need to kill him."

"He has a debt to pay for what he's done and I've come to collect," Joshua stammered, but the anger was already starting the leave him and along with it, his conviction. "And so he's chosen to cower in the water like a dumb animal."

The courier stepped over still bodies, moving closer to Joshua. "If what you believe is true," the courier stumbled slightly over an arm shrouded in the darkness. "he'll pay for it later." The courier balanced themselves next to him and whispered, "The Sorrows don't need to see you this. Let's go."

"Go," Joshua sighed in defeat. He released Salt-Upon-Wounds and continued, "Get out of here. Go back. Back to the Great Salt Lake."

Joshua watched Salt-Upon-Wounds scamper off and abruptly turned to the Courier. Angerly, he fumed, "I wanted to take from them what they took from me, from my family!" The courier watched him with mindful pity.

Joshua sighed, allowing his true sadness, underneath all the rage, to flow in. "In this life. I want them to suffer. I want all of them to die in fear and pain," He continued. "I want to have my revenge. Against him. Against Caesar. I want to call it my own, to make my anger God's anger. To justify the things I've done. Sometimes I tell myself that these wildfires never stop burning. But I'm the one who starts them. Not God. Not them. I can always see it in my mind. The warmth and the heat. It will always be a part of me," Joshua paused, looking down the path where Salt-Upon-Wounds had fled. "But not today."

[rainbowolfe]

Hiya! Been loving your writing! I'm curious on your take of Bishop Kallamar x Vessel or Guardian. Platonic? Romantic? Up to you!

The Vessel's New Clothes

Word Count: 1997 Lamb x Narinder; Lamb x Kallamar *No particular gender/sex assigned to Lamb

[Visual Reference for Your Viewing Enjoyment]

Cast in darkness for only a brief moment, Lamb felt the familiar sensation of falling, then ascending. The red glow faded from their eyes as they arrived at their destination. Their hooves made little noise in this realm of nothingness. If they had been summoned here, they’d have appeared before their vainglorious god. This time they’d appeared a good distance away.

 They quickly preened themselves, straightening their new fleece and fluffing the tuft of wool that hung over their forehead. They instinctively went to fluff the wool around their torso, but were quickly reminded that it was no longer there. They had shaven off quite a bit of the wool that used to hide their figure.

It was an impulsive decision, born out of frustration and a small dash mischief. They were relieved to find that the roots of their wool were dark in color, as the cut they’d chosen would not have looked as nice without the contrast—and it would have looked downright silly if the roots were light enough that their pinkish flesh showed through.

They took a breath to steel themselves before briskly walking forward through the fog. No use stalling.

Sound didn’t really travel in the Realm Beyond, so even when The One Who Waits entered their sight, they weren’t quite sure what he or his two clones were doing. He was sitting. That was new. As Lamb came closer, they could tell he’d noticed their presence when his ears raised ever so slightly. And yet, he made no move to greet them. He did not even turn around, too focused on the two gangling cats attempting to meditate.

‘Pretending to be focused on it,’ Lamb thought, tail bristling.

“Is it working? I don’t think it’s working.” The one clad in white spoke, starting at a whisper that transitioned into full volume.

“Ugh! Would you be silent? I almost had it!” The other grumbled.

“Busy day for you three?” Lamb chimed in.

The one in white opened his mouth, paused, then quickly closed it with an awkward smile. As if he were inclined to respond but suddenly thought better of it. The One Who Waits barely spared them a glance, taking his sweet time to respond.

“I did not request your presence.” He finally said.

“Ah? My mistake,” Lamb opted to feign ignorance. “I could have sworn I heard your call… but since I am already here, may I request an audience?”

“Why?”

Lamb’s composure slipped, sputtering briefly at his response. “Haven’t you noticed anything different about me since we last spoke?”

The One Who Waits turned his head slightly to fully regard Lamb for a moment, expression unchanging. He hums and gives a short shrug.

“Really?”

“Have you grown taller?” The cat in white chirped in an innocent, yet simultaneously condescending tone.

“Perhaps you’ve lost weight?” His dark counterpart matched his energy.

The One Who Wait’s head snapped around to face the duo again, presumably with a glare or something, but their giddy reactions made Lamb wonder. They sighed mentally.

“I have been hard at work collecting Holy Talisman fragments! Reuniting them to harness their power!” Lamb proclaimed, hands on their hips.

“And?” He turned his head to see Lamb again, faint signs of amusement still visible on his face.

“And… Well…” They puffed their chest out as they folded their hands behind their back, unable to keep the pout off their face. “I thought it was pretty cool…”

“Was I to be impressed that you have been moonlighting for Lessers in exchange for paltry goods? Have you forgotten your purpose?”

“Huh? No, of course not, I was just…!” Lamb’s mind grasped for the right words, but landed on parroting his words back to him. “Paltry?”

“That is what I said.”

“This isn’t some ordinary cloak!” Lamb huffed, tossing their cape for flare. “It’s made from a… an extremely valuable treasure that no mortal could begin to comprehend!”

“I am aware.”

“With the right curse, I’m a force to be reckoned with! As it is a tool I’m utilizing in my crusades, wouldn’t it be beneficial to explain their use?”

“Those relics serve no use to me while I am bound in this realm. Thus they are not a priority. I will not dissuade you from collecting more, as it means I will not have to seek them out myself when I am freed, but their true purpose is not something you should concern yourself with.”

“Oh.” Lamb didn’t know how else to respond.

“Is that all?”

“…yes.”

“Then, you are dismissed.”

Whatever they were looking for, Lamb clearly wasn’t going to get. They turned and began the walk back to the pentagram to leave, holding in their sigh of annoyance until they were out of earshot.

The One Who Waits was looking at them, sure, but he wasn’t seeing them. At least not in the way Lamb wished to be seen. It frustrated them to no end. Were they just unattractive? Or was it because he was a god? Could a god not see a mortal in that way?

‘Am I even technically a mortal?’

There was only one way to relieve this building aggravation: By taking it out on the followers of the Old Faith. Though the location of Heket’s temple remained unknown, Lamb was not particularly inclined to search for it after being snubbed by their benefactor. So, off to Anchordeep they went.

They weren’t much interested in a serious fight either. Heket was brutal with Lamb from their first meeting—back before they even knew how to use a sword effectively—so they imagined it would only get worse with the death of Leshy. When Leshy was alive, he tended to launch surprise attacks on Lamb—with or without his followers. But Kallamar?

Well, Lamb was beginning to wonder if he was even capable of combat. As he’d never tried to attack them, even with the other Bishops by his side. When encountered alone, he tended to find indirect ways to make them leave. At first he infected their followers with a nasty flu, but when that stopped working, he started dropping “hints” about secret treasure that could be found in the other realms.

Naturally, this encouraged Lamb to promptly abandon their exploration of his rather unpleasant oceanic realm to look for the one thing they couldn’t resist: treasure. They had even taken a direct bribe from him once.

Not Lamb’s proudest moment but, in their defense, it wasn’t Kallamar’s either.

Lamb didn’t think they would see Kallamar at all. So, imagine their surprise when he ‘greeted’ them the second they stepped out their saferoom.

“You! Why are you here?” He snatched them into the air before they could even spot him, the momentum orienting them upside down. “I told you—Why—WHERE is your wool?”

Lamb actually had a really suave, dismissive response prepared in their head that they never got to use (as Narinder never asked). But they were so caught off-guard, that it flew right from their mind.

“Whaa-What do you mean?” They stuttered out, only slightly disoriented as Kallamar hastily flipped them right-side-up.

“I really do not feel I need to clarify further!” He squawked. “Are you… Are you shedding? Do sheep shed? I don’t believe you have before…!” He said the last part mostly to himself.

Lamb let out a soft snort as their confusion faded into amusement. The Bishop’s ability to almost completely nullify their crown was typically a cause for concern, but not today.

“It’s just my seasonal trim. It gets rather stuffy in the warmer months.” They finally gave a response.

“I… see… Why have you come to disturb my realm?”

“I’m just doing my duties as the vessel of the Red Crown. I have no more business in Darkwood.”

Kallamar took pause at that, his expression unreadable to Lamb. They could probably guess if they cared to. Whatever it was, Kallamar didn’t dwell on it long, returning to his gaudy, flamboyant character.

“Though dear Leshy is no longer… present. Darkwood still holds many precious things. Things previously unattainable due to his resonance with those woods.” Kallamar bridged his fingers, as he often did, periodically tapping them together one at a time. “Ahh, but there is a beast that remains that must be slain first. A Witness! Yes, yes. You must be wondering what a Witness is—”

“I’ve already killed Leshy’s Witness.”

“They are vicious—wh-what?”

“I killed it,” Lamb repeated, as casual as the first time. “Traded it’s eye for my new fleece!”

“I see…!” Kallamar’s stare lingered for a moment before he found something else to look at. “You may want to ­renegotiate with your contact. For such a valuable object, you should at least get a cloak with as much, er, material as the last one.”

They scoffed back at him, “Do you take me as vain? I didn’t change cloaks for looks. I did it for power! It’s made from an extremely valuable treasure that no mortal could begin to comprehend!”

“That is… fascinating. Is that a Holy Talisman, then?”

“Huh? Oh…! Yes, actually. You know what they are?”

“Of course I do. We all have at least one.” He tapped his chin. “In fact, there are likely plenty more out there that you could wear in place of that.”

Lamb was inclined to inquire further about what Kallamar knew about Holy Talisman pieces, but their mind got caught on the barely-veiled insult towards their new fleece. Their fleece that was not easy to get.

“What’s wrong with the one I have now? You don’t even know what it does!”

“It increases the strength of your cursed abilities.” Kallamar seemed a little too smug about knowing that. “And do you really have to ask? Look at it. Why, you aren’t even wearing anything under it.”

“I’ve never worn anything under my cloak. I am covered in wool.” Lamb scoffed right back.

“Well you—I do not think I’m being unreasonable!” Kallamar gave a short, awkward laugh. “If you are going to have less wool, you should wear more clothing."

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Lamb casually flipped their cloak over their shoulder, wearing it as more of a cape than anything now.”

Kallamar’s eyes went wide. He had to physically turn his head to tear his eyes away from the sight of Lamb.

“It is like… It’s like wearing boots and nothing more! You might as well be wearing nothing at all.”

“Huh… I suppose that makes sense… I’ll just take it off, then.”

“Yes, yes, maybe you have some sense after a—” Kallamar’s mouth hung open for just a moment. Although he had managed to collect himself, he was flustered all over again.

“Oh my. I was just joking but… if you insist—”

“No, NO, that is not what I meant! You misunderstand!” He yelled, hands held out defensively. “What foolish—why would I—No, I didn’t even—gh!”

“How else am I supposed to interpret ‘you have some sense’ in that context?”

“I was—I thought you were done speaking! I hear things on a delay, so I thought…! And who would guess you would say something so—so ridiculous!”

“Uh-huh. It’s alright, we all have our Freudian slips.” Lamb waved dismissively, then said with a wink. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”

For a moment, Kallamar was at a loss for words. He started and stopped a few different thoughts without completing them, physically grasping at the air as if he’d find a suitable response there.

“Could it be that you’ve begun to see me as more than merely a vessel?” Lamb tittered.

“Ignoble lamb!” He finally spit out. “Go home! I have had enough of you for one day! Go on, shoo!” With every sentence emphasized with a telekinetic shove towards the door Lamb came through.

With their spirits now lifted, Lamb didn’t quite feel the need to go on a violent crusade anymore. They got the attention they wanted—the reaction they wanted—and although it wasn’t with the person they had in mind…

Perhaps he would do.

---

A/N: Gee, it only took me three months, but this request is finally done XD I think Kallamar would be Lamb's rebound after being shut down by Narinder one too many times.

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

All the Time in the World - Chapter 4

1970, Sussex

He kisses both of my cheeks in greeting and the contact makes me smile. Then we launch into a tirade of a conversation as we amble through the countryside. His hand is so close to mine, I allow mine to brush against his and our fingers catch and don’t let go. My skin is tingling from the sensation and for a while, I quieten and listen to him talking. He’s so clever. I don’t know many people who have been to university that returned quite so keen to continue learning, in all its facets. But he’s also wonderfully innocent, which is making this courtship so different. It’s been two months and he’s still not trying to sleep with me. He’s desperately trying to get to know me and it makes every touch that bit sweeter. The green fields around us, filled with new born lambs, seem to have been painted from a folk story and we wander through without a care. The bright yellow petals of the daffodils shine out, reflecting the afternoon sun, and cast a gentle warmth upon us. He helps me down from a style, pulls me to him and kisses me without any warning, making me gasp in surprise. I register the smirk in his eyes before I kiss him back, running my fingers over his face and savouring the feeling in my stomach. We could kiss away an entire afternoon without stopping for air, it feels so nice, but he’s too reserved to press me for more. The rest of the afternoon passes in a daze between trying to walk where his fingers stroke mine and send a rush through me, to the pauses where we rush to kiss each other and the fire between us is immediate. 

Back at his car, we pull apart and he insists on taking me back to my parents’ house rather than letting me walk. I sit in the front seat, next to him, a flush on my cheeks and a smile shining out from my face. He parks just out of view from the house and reaches for me again, kisses no longer soft and sweet but passionate and I want him to touch me. I can feel his hands pressing against my coat and then one hand pushes up my thigh, making me squirm, and I wonder if he’s quite as innocent as I first thought. But then he pulls away, he is a gentleman after all, and I see how dark his eyes are as they look at me with so much desire, it makes me bite my bottom lip and giggle slightly. I don’t quite dare take this any further.

“I’ve got to go. The Parentals will be expecting me back for dinner.”

That makes him laugh, “Would I be in trouble for bringing you back late?”

“Definite black mark against your name, President Fred.”

“Well I don’t want to be deaded.” He gets out of the car and I sit, waiting for him to walk around to open the door for me, grinning up at him as he offers his hand to help me up.

“Do you want to come inside?” I register a flicker of panic on his face and grin, adding, “I’ll introduce you as my friend…”

“No.”

I nod, a little disappointed but not surprised.

“I don’t want to be your friend. Don’t say that.”

That makes me smile. “Okay. What would you like me to say?”

“Introduce me as your boyfriend.”

“Are you?”

“Am I not?”

“Have you asked me?”

“I sort of assumed it was evident?”

“Don’t assume.”

“Goodness me, Milla. You don’t half make it difficult. Introduce me as the man who would desperately like to be your boyfriend.”

“Desperately?”

“Yes. Desperately.”

He reaches for my chin and tilts it up to kiss me. I could spend forever kissing him. Then we walk down the drive to my parents’ house, get to the front door and reach up to hammer the great knocker.

“Hold on.”

“What?”

He kisses my nose, making me laugh. “You’ve not given me an answer.”

“You’ve not asked a question.”

“Milla, will you be my girlfriend?”

We both giggle, me amused at how serious he’s being about this. “Course.” Then he smiles a giant, dopey smile at me and I realise, with a bit of a start, that he really wants to be with me and for him, this is serious.

I haven’t told my mother who I’m currently dating. She knows he’s called Charles and that he’s so sweet and that I like him rather a lot, but that’s it. They’re not going to approve. I know that as nice and welcoming and jolly as they will be with him, they will be shocked and unhappy with this relationship, however innocent it may be. Although I doubt it’s going to remain innocent for very much longer. It’s getting really difficult to be around him and not touch him. Every kiss shoots through me with a life of its own.

“Darling!”

My mother kisses me enthusiastically and makes to do the same with The Prince, until she recognises him and corrects herself. My whole family are there, my sister eyeing him up, my brother looking as though he’s above all these matters. He gets welcomed into the entire noisy fold and I watch him relax. Relax in a way I’ve never seen before. And although we’re still correct with addresses, he slips into the ease of our familiarity and I watch it cushion him. He’s drawn to my mother from the oft. That doesn’t surprise me. She’s warm and friendly and listens to him in a way that makes him follow her about like a lap dog. He craves my father’s approval more than I would have expected and he’s so respectful towards him. Then, to my siblings, he’s funny. He mimics people from the television as we wait for dinner with a shocking precision and delights my brother by teaching him to swear in Welsh. 

“I’ll make you up a room, Sir. It’s far too late to be driving back to London tonight.”

My mother, ever the hostess, chivvies him into accepting our hospitality without a thought. Out of everyone, she has taken to Charles the most and I can see the feeling is mutual. He basks in her maternal care and she can’t seem to help herself, almost force feeding him extra roast potatoes and fetching a blanket when he shivers slightly in the cool of the evening air. I curl up with him in the blanket and I realise I have never felt him relax before. His body becomes soft and he holds onto me so gently as we sit and listen to my father reading out from The Scarlet Pimpernel, my siblings and I as engrossed with his every word as we were as children. 

Later, I slip into his room, smiling as he starts at the noise of the door and smirking at finding him half dressed. He puts his shirt on but doesn’t fasten it as he walks over to kiss me.

“Get out! Your father will murder me.”

I just shut the door behind me and pull his head down to kiss me before slipping my hands into his shirt, pressing my fingers into the warm skin on his back, feeling his entire body tense before he reaches for me. I’m not expecting the rush which floods through me as his hand pulls up the material of my gown and his fingers trace up the back of my thigh. I didn’t anticipate this relationship, nor that it would be mutual. I can barely breathe as he kisses down my neck and his fingertips trace my skin so softly. He was meant to be a way to make Andrew jealous. He wasn’t meant to feel like this.

“Go before your father shoots me.”

“My father would do nothing of the sort. You’re not the only man I’ve brought back here.” That is an awful thing to say, I realise this, but the words slip from my mouth before I can silence them. He instantly lets go of me.

“Great. I feel really special now.”

“Well don’t. If you treat me badly, I will just replace you.” I want a cigarette. I think I might have just ruined everything.

“I will never treat you badly, Camilla Shand.”

His eyes bore into me earnestly and I want to believe him.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

I chose my outfit carefully. It’s a blue silk nightgown which seems to flow to the floor. I didn’t buy it for him, but his is the better reaction. There’s a knock at the door and I slip behind it with a jolt. I watch him button up his shirt and his eyebrows raise at me in alarm as he leans forwards to answer it. I’m silently gesturing to him not to betray me.

“Goodnight, Sir. I’m just checking that you have everything you need?” I hear my mother’s dulcet tones and roll my eyes. She’s actually checking up on me.

“Goodnight Mrs. Shand. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“Are you quite set for the night?”

“I am, thank you.”

There’s a pause and it’s slightly awkward and I know she’s wanting to check whether I’m in the room. She knows me too well. “Has Camilla come to say goodnight?”

“Yes, she has…” He lets the sentence drop, not wanting to lie but I know that she’s about to pry for more information.

“I went to say goodnight and she wasn’t in her room. I was wondering if you’ve happened to see her?”

He doesn’t lie easily. I don’t know him very well but I know that. The tips of his ears are turning pink. “I think she was going out for a cigarette…”

“Oh… She usually just opens her bedroom window, as if I didn’t know. She’s being unusually coy tonight…”

He doesn’t know what to say. The pink has spread from his ears all down his neck and he’s looking so uncomfortable as he glances at me so quickly before looking away. My mother has the instincts of Miss Marple. None of this will pass her by.

“Will you tell her, when she comes back in, that I want to have a word with her.”

She knows full well that I’m here; I can tell by the sarcastic tone of her voice. I can feel her eyes boring through the door. It’s only politeness that is stopping her from barging right inside and dragging me out by the ears.

“I will.” He’s practically muttering now, so embarrassed at lying for me. She bids him goodnight with a much softer tone and he closes the door quietly, his face bright red as he shakes his head. “That was a close one. I thought she had twigged.”

His innocence makes me smile. “Darling, she knew I was here. She was just being polite.”

“Please come here. Let me hold you.”

I walk to him slowly and sink into his arms, my head fitting into his neck like we were made to fit together. I feel his fingers against my shoulders and then his hand trails down my back. I reach up to kiss him and feel him moan into my mouth as his hand traces the tail of my spine and then grasps onto me. That one sensation makes me squeak and immediately he’s pulling away, encasing me into his arms again.

“How dare you check up on me! I’m not a child. Neither is he!”

“You’re the one skulking around, hiding from me. Acting like a child. Why didn’t you just answer the door instead of making the poor boy stutter and lie for you?”

“Because I knew you’d be like this!”

“You don’t do that when Andrew comes. Then, you’re pretending to act like a grownup.”

“This has got nothing to do with Andrew.”

“It’s got everything to do with Andrew.”

“Why? You don’t even like him!”

“I like him. I don’t think he treats you very well, but I like him.”

“Oh, now you like him… Now I bring someone else home, now you decide that you’re going to like him!”

“He’s not ‘someone else’ though, is he, Camilla? He’s The Prince of Wales! What are you playing at?”

“Mother, I’m twenty three years old. I can sleep with whoever the hell I like.”

“Not under my roof, you can’t… Oh please tell me you’re not sleeping with him?”

I want to scream in her face that I am, just to spite her, but I’m not that good at lying. “No.” It’s a sullen ‘no’, laced with spite but her face looks even more worried.

“Camilla, what are you doing?”

“Nothing! For once, I’m doing nothing…”

“Are you trying to get him to marry you?”

“No!”

“Are you trying to make Andrew jealous?”

“Yes.” I stare at her with the same sulky expression I’ve used with her since I was a teenager and it makes me feel even more infantile. 

“You will never get anywhere with Andrew by competing with him. You either have to accept him as he is or move on.”

“What would you know?”

“Are you sure this is about Andrew?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“Well what is it to you if it isn’t?”

“Darling… Very, very seriously… Be careful.”

“He’s lovely. It’s not him I have to be careful with.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think you understand what you’re doing.”

“It’s just a bit of fun. Why are you stressing?”

“He’s going to marry a young girl from the right family… who has no history… You’re a subject. You don’t have a title. You have more ex-boyfriends than your great-grandmama...”

“Who says anything about marrying him? Perhaps I just want to be his mistress!”

“Darling, you need to be married for that. You’re making it extremely difficult to be considered a suitable wife. Even for someone like Andrew.”

“Well perhaps I don’t want to be married.”

“Camilla, you haven’t fallen in love with him, have you?”

“No.”

“I thought you had your heart set on Andrew?”

I shrug and am surprised when my mother wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry. My poor little girl.”

“Why are you sorry?”

She kisses my hair and then my ear, making me squeal. “You deserve better. That’s all… No… Don’t tense up and pull away. Let me give you a big hug. My poor, little, grown-up girl…”

“Have you finished moaning at me?”

“Moans are over, Darling…. No…Don’t pull away yet… He’ll wait for you… Let me hold you for just a little while longer and stroke your hair…”

“I’m not sleeping in a separate room from him.”

“No, I know…”

“I’m not!”

“I know…”

I sigh. “Fine… I won’t have sex with him. Happy?”

“No… But thank you for the consideration.”

Unfulfillment is a curious sort of pain. As sweet as falling asleep in his arms felt, I didn’t take into consideration the temptation in the dim light of the morning. When all I can hear is his breathing and my skin is alight from the feeling of him against me. When we wake up and we’re already kissing, because, half conscious, we reach for each other and then I can’t seem to stop, my hands covetous against the bare skin of his back. The kiss is fire. I feel him grasping onto my nightdress, trying to pull me closer and I find his hand and guide it into my dress, up my thigh, hearing him groan and then he sits up abruptly and turns away from me slightly. “Not here, Milla.”

I feel him shaking and realise that he’s scared and I stop. 

“I want you more than anything, but not here.”

I allow him to pull me to his chest, my body encased by him and I listen to his heart beating frantically and his heavy breathing until he relaxes again and it steadies, soothing me, lulling me, but he’s not asleep. I look up at him, gazing at me with an impossible softness and stay, transfixed as the light gradually introduces more nuances of colour into those beautiful eyes.

1970, Buckingham Palace

“Shush! We’re not meant to be down here!”

“It’s your house, why ever not?” I giggle as he clamps his hand over my mouth and then pulls me against him.

“These are the staff quarters.”

“Am I only fit to be seen in the staff quarters?”

“You’re such an idiot. Shush!”

I comply, letting him drag me down another cramped staircase, our feet clattering on the stone steps. “It’s a rubbish palace, this.”

“Shush!” He pushes me against the wall and kisses me, stopping my complaints, making me laugh into his mouth. “You’ve got to be absolutely silent along this corridor. I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

“Who’s still here at this time?”

“Plenty of people. Please be quiet.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

He lets me go with one extra strong kiss and takes my hand to pull me down the corridor. He’s acting like such a fugitive, I’m desperate to laugh but I keep it in and sculk down another passageway, through a heavy wooden door and down another staircase. Finally, we reach the room he was looking for and he pushes me inside and switches on one dim light. It’s a box room, filled with what looks like canisters of film and plenty of odd machines.

“Don’t touch anything.”

I pull a packet of cigarettes from my bag and proceed to make a meal of lighting one. I see his nose flicker upwards, almost imperceptibly showing distaste and then he retains control of it again.

There’s a loud boom and the sound of a motor before the crackling of film tells me this is a projector room. I watch him fiddle about with the controls before he opens up a hatch in the floor and scales down a ladder. “Come on Gladys.”

“I’m wearing a skirt.”

“I make no promises not to look.”

That makes me smile. I take one last drag of my cigarette and then scale down the ladder, tripping up on my skirt and sliding down like it’s a fireman’s pole. He catches me but his face is contorted with amusement and I laugh, watching him splutter at me. When he recovers, he grasps my hand again and pulls me to the centre of the room, in front of the benches, where there’s a small blanket and several cushions strewn on the floor.

“I think you’ll like this film. It’s my all time favourite. So funny.”

“No pressure. Do you usually hang out in the dirt on the floor?” I watch his face fall in the glare from the start of the film and smile at him to let him know I’m joking.

“It’s not really for the family. More for the staff but nobody was using it tonight so I thought I’d utilise the facilities.”

“What’s the film?”

“His Girl Friday.”

“That’s your favourite film?”

“Well…”

“No, have strength in your convictions. If it’s your favourite film, state the case. Don’t waver, waiting for my opinion. I’ve not seen it. What do I know?”

“I think you’ll find it funny.”

I sit myself down on the floor, making myself comfortable and throw a cushion at him as he hovers over me. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“It’s not really the done thing to frolic on the floor.”

“Shut up. Sit down here. If the film’s any good, I might let you slip your hand into my shirt!”

He sits down so suddenly, I hear the clunk, and his soft yelp which makes me laugh. “Now you’re being reticent. You weren’t like that last night.”

“Last night you needed encouragement.”

“I just need more practise. We could practise now?”

“No. I want to watch your favourite film. We can practise afterwards.”

“I’m not so sure I can keep my hands off you for so long.”

“I never said you had to keep your hands off me.”

“So can I slip my hands in your shirt right away?”

“Shush, I need to read the screen… Oh it’s already started… I missed it!”

“It’s something to do with the press doing anything short of murder to get a story.”

“Oh, sounds about right.” I listen to the clicking of the typewriters on the screen and feel him pawing me, trying to get my attention.

“Even ten minutes is a long time to be away from ya.”

I look at him confused at the American accent until I hear the line repeated on the screen and I smile, kissing him before wriggling to make myself more comfortable, propped up against what appears to be a large box, sat on a cushion, my legs entwined with his, my hand helping his to reach into my shirt and then I rest my head on his shoulder. “Hildy is beautiful.”

“She’s smart and beautiful. Dangerous combination. Like you.”

“I’m not smart. Walter is quite attractive.”

“He’s a bastard.”

“Yes… I can see. Strangely attracted to that.”

“You should like Bruce.”

“The ‘even ten minutes is a long time to be away from ya’ guy?”

“Yes, him.”

“I’ll decide later. Let me swoon over Walter for now.” 

The film is hilarious, I’ll give him that and so modern it’s like it could have been written today. I’m also enjoying those puppy dog eyes which check over me, anxious to see if I’m enjoying the movie.

“You really do remind me of Hildy.”

“Hmmm…I’m not so sure.”

“She’s skatty. And talks all the time. And at a hundred miles per hour. She’s so dramatic and she has every man around her desperate for her good opinion, wrapped around her little finger. Except one.”

“One we don’t talk about.”

“I still don’t understand how you let Andrew treat you so badly.”

“He didn’t treat me badly.” I don’t know why I’m arguing with him. I know I deserve better than Andrew, but there’s something about him I can’t shake off. He’s still there in my skin, tormenting me. Perhaps it irks me not to get my own way. Perhaps that’s what I like about him; I can’t control him.

“Didn’t he, sorry, doesn’t he sleep with everyone you know?”

“Well… Yes…” Reality is such a cold place to return to. Every woman I know, plenty I do not. Practically all of my friends…

“And then comes crawling back to you?”

“No. Never crawling…”

“Darling, that’s worse. Perhaps you’re not Hildy, at least she knew Walter’s flaws.”

“There’s no need to be cruel.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” He kisses my neck in apology. “You can be my Girl Friday, anyway. Only, I abhor the press, don’t become a journalist.”

“Promise.”

He kisses me again and it’s surprisingly easy to melt against him. Listening to the staccato delivery of the lines of the film, he makes me want to forget about everyone other than him.

[non-binary-moth]

The Vessel

[AN: Sorry for not posting for so long!]

"Once a land bursting with all kinds of life. Today, one shall be rid of the world. Here stands the last lamb." The bishop of war and wisdom announced to all followers watching the execution.

"This might be a bad idea..." Heket, the bishop of famine whispered to her brother, Kallamar, bishop of plague and pestilence.

"Hm, you may be correct, Heket. But if Leshy and Shamura see this fit for protection, then so be it." Kallamar whispered back. He tried to act calm but the thought of something happening had him shaking in his robes. Heket could tell. She knew him.

The lamb. The last lamb. They stepped forward, their eyes down, trembling, terrified, hopeless.

Shamura looked down at the lamb with pity. 'I'm sorry, little lamb. You and all of your kind are innocent. You all did nothing wrong. But I cannot let my brother escape his prison. Goodbye, little lamb. Goodbye, my little brother.' They thought before giving a nod to the executor.

The executor swung his axe. The lamb shut their eyes tightly and shot a quick last prayer to their god. Then, they saw a light. They opened their eyes. The bishop of death stood before them, his guards by his sides.

"Ah yes, the last lamb. I have been awaiting your arrival. Welcome to my domain. Now, allow me to get to the point. I have a proposal. You have been the most faithful of all my followers. You can help the both of us. Set me free by k*lling my siblings. End the non-believers. Start a cult. How you get your revenge, you may be wondering. Well, you get to show your heretics just how strong you are seconds before ending them. So, do you except my offer?" The bishop asked with a sly smirk.

"Yes, my lord." The lamb said, kneeling before him.

The bishop chuckled and placed the Red Crown on the lambs head.

"Now, you may call me The One Who Waits. What is your name, vessel?" The god asked.

"My name is Lambert. However you may call me whatever you'd like." Lambert responded.

"Very well, Lambert. Now, go show the heretics whom have mistreated you who you are." He said.

With a nod, a pool of ichor appeared under Lambert's feet. They were gone in a quick spin.

Lambert appeared again in the cult grounds. Their body which was once headless lifted into the air, their rags turned into a magnificent red fleece with white zigzags. The executor's eyes widened in shock. Soon, in a matter of seconds, it was his head that was on the ground.

After a few minutes of grunts, cries, and clanging of swords, the cult grounds were filled with d3ad bodies and blood. The bishop of chaos was furious.

"Make this easier for yourself, lamb! Bow before us this instant!" Bishop Leshy yelled.

Lambert turned to all 4 of them with cold and hateful eyes.

"My name is Lambert. I am the vessel who shall never kneel before my heretics. You will not forget my name." Lambert snapped back with a monotone and cold tone. They then walked away.

Here's a glimpse into part 2!:

Lambert walked. They walked and walked but then they saw something they weren't expecting. They saw a bull tied up. Likely the next sacrifice. The Red Crown turned back into a blade. SLASH!