#rus lit art

[ayphyx]

The bros K

[anotherfandomtrash]

love lesbians in respectful way

[aylish91]

New chapter incoming!!

Sea Of Hope Chapter 8

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

This masterful piece of art was done by @aoi-kanna as a commission. They are truly talented and I appreciate all the hard work they put into making this for me. Go check them out, they are absolutely wonderful!!!

Story below or AO3 above.

~~~

While Axe checked you over, Edge grabbed Red by the back of the neck and stormed down the main hatch, loudly yelling at the rest of the crew to mind their own business as they scurried out of his way. For the most part, Red's protests went unheard as he was dragged down the steep steps. Blue, on the other hand, had hesitantly approached Papyrus, whispering something before they too turned and headed past the hatch, disappearing through a pair of doors into the upper levels of the ship. 

The clearing of a throat had you tensing and pressing closer to Axe. Black had once again gotten closer than you were comfortable with, standing only a couple paces away. “AS HEARTWARMING AS THIS IS, IT IS QUICKLY BECOMING LATE AND THE LADY STILL NEEDS ADEQUATE DRESS. MY BROTHER’S COAT IS HARDLY A FITTING SUBSTITUTE.”  

Rus chuckled beside him. However, when he made to comment, a look from Black had him looking down instead. 

Axe narrowed his sockets. “Don’t know where you’re planning on get’n somethin. Ain’t exactly swimmin in extras and you’ve refused to mend mine so I could give it to her.”  

Black scoffed. “YOU FAILED TO MENTION IT WAS FOR YOUR MARKED. YOU HAVE ALSO YET TO COMPLETE THE TASK I ASKED OF YOU. I DID NOT SEE THE POINT IN TURNING IN YOUR FAVOR WHEN MY OWN HAD BEEN UNMET.” 

“Been busy.” 

“AS WE’VE ALL.” 

Something shifted in the air, both of their eyelights brightening. Rus glared, moving closer to his brother. It took Crooks placing a hand on Axe’s shoulder for the two to back down. 

“Petty bastard.” 

“WHEN IT SUITS ME.” With a flourish of a hand and a half step back, he indicated the direction of the doors, continuing to meet Axe’s gaze. “NOW, I BELIEVE WE SHOULD ATTEMPT TO FIND SOMETHING MORE SUITABLE UNTIL NEXT WE MAKE PORT. SURELY YOU CAN AGREE IT WOULD BE IN EVERYONE’S BEST INTEREST.”  

“Fine, but we’re not leadin’.” You could hear the creak of Axe’s teeth. 

“OF COURSE.” With a tight turn, Black nodded, marching forward with Rus trailing behind with a wink. "AS YOU WISH." 

Axe refused to move at first, tugging his empty socket and prompting a sighing Crooks to nudge you both. "I Know You Don’t Like Him, But He Is Fair.” 

“Bastard never does anything fer free.” 

“And Yet, He Has A Point.”  

Neither you nor Axe was reassured but allowed him to guide you forward regardless. Crewmen brave enough to linger eyed your group with various degrees of emotion. When a dog monster growled, another was quick to slap the back of their head, nervously hunching at a glare from both of your skeleton friends. You tried not to show your fear or your growing limp as you passed, hoping Rus' long coat hid what you couldn’t. It didn't seem like a good idea to show weakness around others. The watchful eyes and aggressive postures spoke volumes to your already heightened nerves. Entering the ship did nothing to ease your discomfort.  

It felt cramped and pressing despite having more than enough space and light. Unlike the previous ship, several lanterns lit the expanse leaving no ominous shadows or darkened areas. You could easily see all the doors lining the walls as well as the beautifully carved and decorated windowed doors marking the end of the hall. Rus waited near the last door on the left.  

It was calm and warm, but you couldn’t shake off the feelings of danger. 

“Ya c’n go inside Darlin. Milord’s wait’n.” Rus stood to the side, motioning you inside the now open door. 

You looked to your companions. While Axe kept his eyelight on Rus, Crooks’ soft smile and nod gave you enough of a boost to cautiously cross the threshold. It smelled of lavender tinted with something you couldn’t quite place, the overall size relatively small. What looked like a narrow modified canopy bed connected to the wall was on your right. In front of you, under a single window, was a rather lovely desk intricately carved with polished knobs. To your immediate left was an open decorative chest shoved in the corner. Everything was of exquisite taste and quality, from the bedding and carvings on the furniture to the upholstery on the chair at the desk. The few trinkets left out were of fine gold or silver with glistening jewels. 

You jumped when the door closed behind you. Axe nor Crooks had made it inside. It had your stomach rolling with nerves. You did not anticipate having the others closed out. Having Black now between you and the only exit made it worse. His eyelights were too bright. 

Didn’t Rus call him a lord...? 

Your chest tightened at his approach, making sure to lower your gaze. 

“TRUE TO MY WORD, THAT HORROR’S GARMENT HAS BEEN MENDED. HAD I KNOWN IT WAS FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS, I NEVER WOULD HAVE HELD ONTO IT.” In his hands was a large linen shirt, neatly folded and dark in color. Holding it out, he offered it to you. “PUT IT ON. I WILL ADJUST IT AS NEEDED AFTER.” 

You froze, intently focusing on the simple article of cloth. Was he expecting you to do it here and now? In front of him? Wasn’t it bad enough you were laid bare in front of all those on the deck, or stars, when you pressed yourself against Blue? At least Axe had good reason to see you. Multiple! To willingly undress now in the presence of a man other than your husband...  

By the angel, what would Axe think of all this? 

Black must have noticed your silent panicked uncertainty when you didn’t immediately take it. Clearing his throat, something in his tone changed. “I SHALL, OF COURSE, REFRAIN FROM LOOKING WHILE YOU DO SO. YOU MAY LEAVE MY BROTHER’S COAT ON THE CHAIR WHEN YOU ARE READY.” 

It was hard not to squirm. While that was greatly appreciated, it still felt uncomfortable. Could you trust his word? You hardly knew the man. Perhaps things may have felt different if the room wasn’t quite so stifling or the door hadn’t been shut so suddenly. 

Luckily, heavy thumps in the hall distracted Black enough for him to hand you the garment himself, squinting at the door behind him. He was just about to speak again when another set of thumps sounded, this time shaking the door. Growling, he finally turned when the muffled voices following the noise got angrier. 

You really didn’t want to do this right now. Not here. Not with all the uncertainties surrounding you.  

Taking a slow breath in, you let it out. The sooner you changed, the sooner you could be rid of these unsettling feelings. With unsteady fingers twitching against the fabric as you took one last glance at Black’s back. 

One more breath. 

The sound of your rattling bones was louder without the security of the coat. Placing it on the chair, you did your best to quickly dress.  

The feeling of fabric against your bones was surprisingly comforting as you pulled it over your head. True to Axe’s size, the shirt almost went to your knees. It was so large the fabric pooled on your much smaller frame and reminded you of the nightgowns you used to wear back at the manor. 

If only it wasn’t so short. 

Though your more private areas were covered, it was not good for a lady to show so much… leg. You tugged at the hem, the sleeves threatening to engulf your hands.  

“I’m dressed, my lord.” 

A calculated breath was your only answer before his eyelights found you, fuzzy with a slight warble. You had to second guess if you had seen them correctly, for the next moment they were back to their bright and sharp orbs. Getting closer, they traveled over you as he hummed, the heel of his boots clicking as he circled. If you had hair, it would have stood on end at the subtle brush of his hand against your back. 

“AS I EXPECTED.” 

You startled, yelping when he came around to lightly grip your hips. Instinctively, your hands came to your chest from the forwardness, sockets wide. He paid no mind, eyelights intent on the bunched fabric. He only let go to pull a satin rope from his pocket. 

You squeaked again when he reached around you to wrap it around your waist. 

“MUCH BETTER. HOWEVER," His gloved hands touched your elbows, slowly moving up your arms to grasp your hands for inspection. “YOUR MAGIC. IT IS MUCH TOO THIN…” He turned them over. “Hmmmmm. Knowing Him…” 

Your chest clenched. He was close enough you could feel his ambient heat and wisps of breath. 

Before Black could say or do anything else, his door nearly burst off its hinges, a very aggravated Axe forcing it open. Black pulled you into him with a snarl, eyelights vanishing with the click of his teeth. Stuck in a headlock was a disgruntled Rus, resigned to the hold around his neck. 

You didn’t know if you could physically handle any more stress.  

“BY THE ANGEL, YOU WILL REPLACE THAT LOCK IF YOU HAVE BROKEN IT!” 

Axe’s voice was low, grin tight as he took in the scene. “Don’t appreciate the closed door, Black. Hell ya think yer doin’ in here?” 

Black placed you behind him, grumbling a growl. “AS I STATED EARLIER, I HAVE GIVEN HER SOMETHING TO ADEQUATELY COVER HERSELF UNTIL WE CAN PROCURE SOMETHING MORE FITTING.”  

Axe narrowed his sockets at Black’s squared shoulders. For a split second, you could see the red orb of his eyelight flick over the man in front of you before it focused on you.  

“Sure that's all ya were doin’?” 

The fabric of Black’s gloves creaked. “IF YOU MUST KNOW, I WAS INSPECTING HER MAGIC FLOW. I’M NO EXPERT, BUT EVEN I CAN TELL IT’S RUNNING LOW. A MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION WOULD BE, WHY HAVEN’T YOU—” 

“I’ve been doin’ exactly what I need ta be. Don’t need ta explain myself either.” Rus stumbled into the room when Axe unceremoniously released him to motion to you. “Now, if yer done?” 

With a snarl, Black pointed a finger. “NOW SEE HERE YOU–” 

Instinctually, you reached out, stopping just before Black’s arm. “My lord, I!” You faltered at his abrupt attention, pulling back to dip your head in respect. “I thank you for your kindness, but I should return to my lord husband before any more misunderstandings occur.” 

His eyelights stuttered. “I, I BEG YOUR PARDON?” 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Axe broke into heavy laughter, the loudest and deepest you’ve heard from him. It was enough to warm your cheeks as he beckoned you out and away from the room. Black gaped, slack-jawed and sputtering as you passed. You were already being guided onto the deck by the time he was able to call out one last time from his doorway. 

“AXE! YOU WILL… THAT… YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Axe only laughed harder, closing the doors behind you. 

The sun had mostly set by the time you stepped out into the humid sea air. You would have done anything in the past to be able to look up, out, and around but Axe was swift in guiding you down the main hatch. You didn’t want to linger longer than necessary anyway. 

You didn’t have Rus’s coat to hide under. 

You were grateful for the darkness once you were under. The lanterns were farther spread, some empty of light altogether. It helped ease your mind against the wandering eyes. Most gathered under the brightest lamps, playing cards at makeshift tables, drinking, and socializing while others lounged in hammocks hanging interspersed between the canons. While some watched you pass, Axe was surprisingly good at slipping through the darkest areas to avoid the unwanted attention.  

The closer you got to the front of the ship, the fewer people there were until you came upon barrels and crates stacked near and around an area quartered off by familiar heavy sheets. You could even recognize the stack you and Blue had hidden next to, the sheet on that side still halfway pulled down. Axe was kind enough to hold the flap for you to enter. 

Finally, you were able to relax the tension out of your shoulders and pained joints. You wanted to climb back into the hammock and rest your aching pelvis, maybe snuggle against Axe and his warmth. The way he moved about though had you gingerly sitting on his stool, setting it upright from where it had been knocked over. 

You wondered when that had occurred. What happened after you had been taken? 

... 

A quiet curse had you looking back at Axe as he re-fastened the makeshift wall. There were a few more rips in it than you remembered. If he had any sewing supplies, you would have to mend them. It was the least you could do as thanks. 

You let out a slow breath, peering down at your clenched fists. They were cold and stiff on your lap. Black had been interested in them. The lot of them had been interested in general, but he had seemed so focused. 

Your voice was soft, hesitant as you summoned the courage to speak. “Axe? I have so many questions, but I’m afraid… I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask.” 

Axe chuckled. “Don’t gotta be afraid with me, Dove. It’s good ta ask questions around here. The more ya know the better, good or bad. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.” 

You picked at the hem of the shirt, smoothing it down as much as you could. “Is that true?" Axe simply grunted. Collecting yourself, you forced yourself to ask the questions burning your mind. "What is a Banthos? What does it mean to be one? And what did Black mean when he said my magic was too thin? I don’t have magic. I’m not… I’m not even a monster.” 

It was hard not to flinch when, from your peripherals, you saw him stop. His voice had become more serious but thankfully still soft.  

“The hell yer not. Listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told, where ya come from, or what ya been through. But you’re as much of a monster as the rest of us. You’re made of magic and hope just like me.” He came over to place your hand in his scarred one, taking a knee to look directly into your sockets. “We’re the same. Dust and all. It don’t matter about anything else. As fer your magic,” he rubbed his face with a frustrated sigh, “let me worry about that. Just know ya got it and I’m gonna make damn sure ta get it where it needs ta be.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that, but it sent a comforting feeling to your chest. He was always so warm. It reminded you of your mother.  

Nodding, you were about to ask about your first question when footsteps interrupted you. Axe stood, moving between you and the flap.  

“AXE, IT IS GETTING LATE. I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF PREPARING SANS’ ROOM FOR THE LITTLE MISS. I HOPE YOU HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN.”  

Axe only slightly relaxed at the sound of Papyrus’ voice, not moving but calling out to the other skeleton. “I can take her when we’re ready. Just got a few–” he bristled when Papyrus entered and smiled down at you, hand twitching at his side –“more things ta take care of.” 

“AND WHAT MIGHT THAT BE SO I MAY HELP?” When Axe only grumbled, Papyrus took it upon himself to continue. “WELL, WHILE YOU FIGURE THINGS OUT, I SHALL MAKE SURE TO GET HER SAFELY TO HER NEW LODGINGS.” 

You both tensed. “Papyrus. Paps. At least let things settle before ya drag er away. You saw Sans. I don’t trust him.” 

Papyrus looked a little sheepish at the accusation. “I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN, BUT I HAVE FAITH THAT THIS WILL WORK. I MYSELF WILL KEEP AN EYE ON THINGS IF I MUST. He Means Well. NOT THAT, THAT IS AN EXCUSE FOR HIS TERRIBLE BEHAVIOR.” He came forward to place a hand on Axe’s shoulder, humble and pleading. “WON’T YOU AT LEAST TRUST ME?” 

You couldn’t place the look that crossed Axe’s face from the question, the red orb of his eyelight quaking until his free hand brushed the edges of his empty socket. “That’s cheat’n…” There was a heaviness to the silence.  

When Axe’s shoulders sagged, Papyrus gave him back his space. “All WILL BE WELL. I’M SURE OF IT.” 

You were uncertain as to what you needed to do, but before you could stand, Axe nudged you back down. With the reluctance of a stubborn cat, he then went about gathering items he had deemed yours, going so far as draping his favored blanket over your shoulders. When all was said and done, you were left with a surprisingly intricate box full of puzzles, Axe’s blanket, and an affectionate nuzzle to your neck.  

It was with a heavy heart and a glowing face that you eventually followed Papyrus back out into the darkness. 

You did your best to keep up with his long strides, missing Axe’s purposely slowed gait. You could feel the grinding strain on your pelvis and lower joints with each step. You focused on the clack of your feet to keep your mind off the aching. Papyrus was already several steps ahead of you when he got to the steps.  

Blessedly, he turned to wait for you. 

It was embarrassing how out of breath you had become from such a short distance, especially when you knew you didn’t technically need to breathe. You were even more so when Papyrus cocked his head to look you over with a contemplative hum. 

His smile was kind. “MY APOLOGIES MISS. I KNEW YOU WERE IN ROUGH SHAPE, BUT I HADN’T REALIZED…” He glanced up the steps. “PERHAPS IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO HELP.” 

Without so much as a warning, he picked you up and draped you across both of his arms. You almost dropped your box, squeaking in surprise as he ascended to the deck. Your mind and tongue had stopped working from the suddenness. Though Axe had carried you once before and had moved you a few times, you didn’t quite know what to think of this stranger picking you up so nonchalantly. It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him, smile just as polite and kind as before. 

With him carrying you, it took little time to cross the rest of the way back through the double doors and down to the end of the hall. Standing in front of the windowed doors, you were only jostled a little when he turned the knob. He used his boot to kick it open the rest of the way with a bang, making you flinch when the glass shook precariously. 

You thought you saw a flash of blue, but when you looked, there was nothing there but a railed raised platform with an extravagant-looking bed, windows lining the entirety of the back wall. 

You shuddered. It smelled overwhelmingly of snow and cold rain. 

Scrunching his nasal ridge, Papyrus walked around a heavy round table with a scattering of papers and a lantern. Stepping onto the platform, he carefully set you down, turning to furiously rip the blankets off the bed to ball and fling them across the room with a fwump. 

“FORGIVE MY IDIOT OF A BROTHER. I WILL BE HAVING A TALK WITH HIM ABOUT APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR LATER. FOR NOW, I’M AFRAID THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. AT LEAST THE BED IS EXCEPTIONALLY COMFORTABLE.” He put his hand down to pat the mattress. “IT IS A GIMBAL BED, MADE WITH LARGER MONSTERS IN MIND SO YOU WILL HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE AND WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE TIPPING OF THE SHIP.” 

When you didn’t move, he gently ushered you to sit before making his way to the windows. It was so dark now that the light from the lamp effectively turned them into mirrors. You were grateful, too afraid to look through them. To your relief, Papyrus closed the many curtains for each once. Once done, he gently took your box and stood at the end of the bed, bowing slightly from the waist. 

“I WOULD STAY TO HELP YOU SETTLE, BUT I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE OTHER DUTIES I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF AT THIS TIME. BUT DO NOT FEAR, I WILL MAKE SURE SOMEONE WILL BE BY IN THE MORNING TO BRING YOU SOME TEA AND BREAKFAST AND TO WELCOME YOU.” Walking away, he stopped to place your box on the table and extinguish the lantern. “SLEEP WELL MISS.”  

With a wave, he picked up the bundle of discarded blankets and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

… 

It was frightening, alone in the dark.

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

[cyhsal]

Rus lit colour wheel! 🎨

Saw that art trend going around and wanted to do it with my RL character designs; quite refreshing to come back and draw them again after so long. It was interesting to see them in my current art style as well! Character list under cut.

This was originally posted on my literature focused art account on IG/Twitter/VK (handle in picture); I’ll link to those socials this time for the links below!

Instagram // Twitter // VK

❤️ Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky)

🧡 Evgeny Bazarov (Fathers and Sons, Ivan Turgenev)

💛 Pyotr Verkhovensky (Demons/The Possessed, Fyodor Dostoyevsky)

💚 Alyosha Karamazov (The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky)

🩵 Alexei Vronsky (Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy)

💙 Evgeny Onegin (Eugene Onegin, Alexander Pushkin)

💜 Grigory Pechorin (A Hero of Our Time, Mikhail Lermontov)

🩷 Anatole Kuragin (War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy)

[sbeep]

Your passion towards Nord lore and culture is sparking my enthusiasm so much further, thank you for your contribution to something I did not I cared so much about ✨😤 I was also curious about the parallels and similarities of Kyne's position and symbolism similarly to a real life counterpart of Slavic culture - Perun. Of course, TES Nords understandably were inspired by the ancient nordic cultures of the north, and Slavs were a sister-culture, and a very close and mixed civilization to those who we call 'Vikings' nowadays. Still, I find it really fascinating, and I'm grateful for your writing and art inspiring a lot of interest to delve deeper into this!

What a great message! You've really struck on a special interest of mine, the Viking Age and how all those cultures were interacting and clashing and blending while this inescapable tide (Christianity) washed over europe. There's a lot of inspiration and comparison to be done when thinking about headcanon!

Of course, I regularly read far deeper into things than we're ever shown in the games, but that's the fun. It's fascinating to point out and track real-world references and ideas in this fiction!

Opening statement: Nords are socially and aesthetically Norse. Religiously they are not!

There are MASSIVE parallels between Kyne and Perun, especially as chiefs of their pantheons. The thunder/sky domains of the goddess and the similarities to the norse Thor also can't be ignored, but the fact that the Norse and nord gods both are fallible beings who can die and change is probably the biggest parallel. I'd even say that regliously, nords are proto-Norse or celtic, closer to animism than the story-based Norse mythology we're all familiar with (which isn't to say stories aren't important to TES Nords, they're vital even, but worship of natural forces and magic and personifying them in gods is more their game in my mind. Kyne does not control the wind, it IS her breath. She is Monahven- "Mother Wind").

Side thought-> It’s pretty savvy of the lore writers to have nords- the ‘first men’ and supposed oldest human culture in the fictional world- be spiritually so tied to voices, sounds, air and story. These were real human’s first tools! I think we could sing long before we could use words. It’s how we communicate with the world. A shout feels primal in ways we never figured out words to describe. It’s the perfect metaphor for making a fictional culture feel truly ancient. Before they had steel, they had breath and their voice.

CULTURALLY, largely yes, the nords are Norse (using this term as it's the easiest catch-all for scandinavian peoples during the expansion period of 700-1100) there's no denying it. Back from when the Elder Scrolls was first made it was clear these are the Viking analogue beside the Arab/Persian analogue of Redguards and Imperial Romans of Cyrodiil. It's a fantastic jumble of cultures and why shouldn't it be!

Personally, I view the nords as much more mixed in their inspirations when it comes to religion. I see Ancient Egyptian animal veneration (Kyne and Shor also do a pretty good turn at Isis and Osiris). I see Roman polytheism in how present and integrated gods are into every aspect of life and how willing nords are to adopt new ones. I see the ancestor veneration of neolithic Europe (the same principles from east Asia might be more at home with the Dunmer).

The biggest, hugest reference I love to explore when thinking about this fiction is the parallels between the nord spiritualism and Mongolian shamanism and the veneration of Tengri, (lit. 'the sky'). It folds together all these styles of worship we see in the nords and even included veneration of a cultural hero, Ghengis Khan, into it's later mythos as he ascended and was deified.

Circling back to the Norse elements, I think the nords as we see them currently very similiar to the Rus of the Viking Age. They were ethnically Norse, travelled and changed, met new religions and began to leave theirs behind. The Slavic angle, a region merged between an orthodox Christian east and Norse northwest, is a really good one to think about!!

One thing I really like to do is diversify the nord characters in my cast to better reflect that I'm pulling inspiration from other places than Scandinavia. Nothing will be a 1:1 direct pull, that would be terrible and appropriative to just paste them onto Fantasy Norway, but filtering and blending, and using real world scope for our context in fiction is very very fun.

Anyway thanks for reading :)

[whore-4-fictional-characters]

Little Dove

Thud..Thud…Thud..

The sound of my heart hammering against my chest. Little beads of sweat covering my body. My eyes darting around the room, scanning my surroundings. A Empty, dim lit room, nothing other than a simple side table filled with what any sane person would know is torture devices. A simple door in front of me, light comes from underneath. My Fingers fumbling to untie the ropes that bind them to the back of a icy metal chair. Fuck! I breathed out In a huff. My body freezing up, as the door swings open. “Hello Sweetheart” the man standing in-front of me says, a low chuckle rising from his throat. “I’ve heard a lot about you Ms. Luna” his eyes sink down to meet mine. Removing the gag stuffed into my mouth, bending to meet face to face.

“Now, I want to know every detail on how all of my highly skilled, viciously trained men were killed in minutes? By a mutt and his little bitch!” He stared into my eyes, demanding an answer. Refusing to cooperate, he signaled for Rus, his steroid hyped jockey . I knew what was coming next. Rus came into view “Yes Hugo?” Rus questioned his boss. “Teach this little girl how she should speak to her superiors” he laughed out as Rus came forward smirking at me like I am food about to be devoured. My body feels the hits before I hear the sounds of his fist connecting with my skin. Bruise’s littering my body like fine art, blood drips from my mouth and nose combining together in a steady pour. “Wait Rus” Hugo pauses “Willing to speak now you little brat?” Grabbing my face to look up at him. I stayed mute. “Alright then, Rus another round” He laughs sinisterly walking back, but before he could step out of Rus’s way I spoke, “Okay! Okay I’ll tell you ! I’ll tell you.” I pant out “The reas-“ deep breath “The reason your men were so easily killed, is because they are-“ I hesitated before finishing “they are a bunch of fucking pussy’s just like you and your jockey, and they were stupid and thought they could take him, just like you Fucking idiots” I gathered as much blood as I could in my mouth and spit it in his face cackling as I did.

“YOU STUPID BITCH” Hugo lunged at me grabbing my hair and yanking as he yelled “YOU THINK YOU WILL GET AWAY WITH TH-“ his words cut off by the screams of his men over the radio. I start laughing uncontrollably. I know I look like a crazed maniac, good! “Why are you laughing you dumb cunt?” Hugo questioned angrily. Bangs and screams make their way up the halls, into the room. Hugo looked to the door and back at me. “He’s here and you two-“ nodding between the two men “-are fucked” I continue to laugh as they load their guns and back away from the door . Quickly I jump to my feet grabbing Rus’s gun aiming it to his head. “How did-“ he started “Rule one boys, don’t underestimate a woman, especially a psycho” I smirked as the door swung open reviling him. My Bird. My lover boy. Jake Fucking Webber. “Hiya little Dove” he spoke god his voice and that little smirk sent chills up my spine. “Enough! Silence you freaks” Hugo screamed while pointing his gun at Jake. Uh oh, big mistake Dickhead. “Why must you get yourself into these silly situations Little Dove?” Jake asked me “I Said shu-“ Hugo’s sentence cut short ….or should I say sliced short . Jake’s knife slung and ripped his life from his body. God so fucking hot. “I’m sorry Bird, you know I love the thrill” I squealed while pulling my trigger, Rus’s blood splashing me In The face . I giggled in pure Ecstasy. “Any more down stairs bird?” I questioned “No darling, looks like I had all the fun this time” slightly disappointed I whined “what about me though puddin?”

Taking three long strides over to me , Jake grabbed my face and connected our lips, blood smearing into our mouths mixing into our taste. I groaned at the taste of his tongue, earning a squeeze as his hands traveled to my ass. “Did you miss me Little dove?” He spoke into my lips. “Mhm” I moaned . “Show me” I gasped as he yanked my hair back, kissing down my neck. I whimpered from the loss of touch and he leans down and grabs his blade from Hugo’s throat.

swiftly slicing the tight, torn and bloody dress off of my body. “Turn around and prove you missed me Dove” he growled in my ear. I turned over and pushed the tray of weapons off the side table. Jake then pushed me over and yanked my hair back . Whispering in his beautifully rasp voice “I’m going to fuck that pretty cunt into oblivion, I am going to make you beg for my cock over and over, and when you’ve finally had enough and think you couldn’t possibly cum anymore, I’m going to fill your cock drunk little pussy up with my release and eat our beautiful mess right out of you. Do you understand Little dove” he places the knife to my center and his hand around my neck. “Yes Daddy” I plead to him.

[crystal-in-nagasaki]

fukuoka

During the last 5 months in Japan, I have had the pleasure of visiting Fukuoka once so far. I only visited for a short time, but in this post I’ll share about my experience there. 

Kyushu, the region of Japan that I'm in, is generally pretty rural with the exception of Nagasaki city, Kumamoto city, and Fukuoka. Fukuoka is probably the biggest city in Kyushu and definitely had a big city feel. 

Compared to Nagasaki city, Fukuoka felt a lot more busy, crowded, and full of concrete buildings. But there were still some areas that felt very open and refreshing.

I visited Fukuoka near the end of January with friends for a weekend trip and we stayed for two days and one night.

On the first day, we again took a highway bus out of our town, this time to Fukuoka. The journey was about two and a half hours, and there were plenty of scenic views of the mountains and countryside to keep me entertained on the ride.

We arrived in Fukuoka and first headed to our hostel to drop off our overnight bags. We stayed at Hostel Nekokura, which was an adorable cat themed hostel with a cat cafe on the first floor. Unfortunately we were not present in the hostel long enough during open hours to actually get to visit the cat cafe, but we had fun waving and making kissy faces at the cats through the glass window looking into their playroom.

At this point it was the afternoon, so we headed across the city to the area near the Paypay Dome, which is Fukuoka's huge baseball stadium, home to the Fukuoka Hawks. We didn't see a game unfortunately, but headed into the building next to it which contained the TeamLabs Forest exhibit.

There are many TeamLabs exhibits across the world and I was lucky enough to visit one of the bigger ones in Tokyo and it was incredible. If you've never had the pleasure of going, I'll say they're pretty much like a digital interactive art exhibit. The Forest exhibit in Fukuoka was a lot smaller and had only around five rooms. There was one large maze-like room with many digital animals on the wall that you could interact with. Another room was covered with stripes and eventually flowers would begin to bloom around the room and form the shapes of animals which then walked across the walls. From this room you could take a mirrored tunnel into a huge mirrored room lit with pastel colors and with many balloons that you could swat around. Although quite a bit smaller than the Tokyo exhibit, it was really fun. 

After looking around the other shops in the building for a bit, we headed to get dinner. We went to a small local Korean BBQ shop and ate tons of grilled meat and vegetables, which was really delicious. Walking back to the hostel, we passed this giant cat astronaut statue, which was really cool.

Then we returned to the hostel for the night. On our second day, we headed to brunch at the famous Moomin cafe. It was located in the Canal City Mall, which was a huge lovely open air mall with many cute shops.

Some people may have heard of this cafe on the internet. It's gained attention for being a great place for single diners because the staff will sit various Moomin characters at the table with you while you eat. We got our own as well.

I ordered a fish sandwich for lunch. Since Moomin is Finnish in origin, they had various Finnish food and drinks on the menu. The atmosphere in the cafe overall was very nice. They also had a very nice gift shop which sold bread with images of Moomin on it.

After eating, we took a train out of the city to visit Zanzoin, a Buddhist temple which boasts one of Japan's Daibutsu, or great Buddha statues. It's one of the largest reclining Buddha statues (representing Buddha at the moment of death before entering nirvana) in the world and the third Daibutsu that I have seen, including the Daibutsus in Nara and Kamakura. There is something so spiritually moving about witnessing a Daibutsu in person, and I recommend it to everybody, especially the one in Nara, which is my favorite.

Nanzoin Temple is nestled in the rural mountains outside of Fukuoka and it was a very quiet and serene place. The temple grounds were actually quite large and there were several temple buildings and monuments to pray at before climbing your way up to the Daibutsu itself.

It’s said that the Daibutsu contains ashes of Buddha himself inside its hollow interior which were a gift to Japan from Myanmar after Japan donated medical supplies to help children in Myanmar and Nepal. The statue’s feet are adorned with various Buddhist symbols, and you are encouraged to walk around to the statue's feet and touch them for good fortune.

After admiring the Daibutsu and lovingly touching his feet, we headed over to the temple shop to buy omamori (protection charms which bring good fortune) and omikuji (fortunes). Since a new year had just begun, it was very common around that time to buy omikuji to depict the year's fortune. I pulled sho kichi (small luck), so not much to brag about, but two of my friends pulled dai kichi (great luck). The fortune will give you details for various parts of your life, including money, career, travel, studies, health, family, love, etc. Under the love section of my fortune it just said "consult with your parents" which I found very funny.

After exploring a bit more and enjoying the atmosphere of the temple, we headed back to the hustle and bustle of Fukuoka and got tonkotsu ramen for lunch. This ramen is a Fukuoka specialty and is made by stewing pork bones for several hours. It was really delicious and had a rich flavor.

This was the conclusion of our trip to Fukuoka, as we headed to the bus terminal to hop on our long bus back home. It's a huge city with lots to see, so I'm sure I will be back again soon with more to share, but I hope you enjoyed this small taste of it as much as I have!

[karamazovdmitri]

time for my yearly alyosha drawing but its him circa that one time he was lying on the ground and came this close to snapping for good

[satanetra]

tagged by @minilev WIP Woland from The Master and Margarita ( 2005)  tag @ziorre @mvbsva @reidreamer and  everyone who wants share with their wip:) 

[kozionogin]

молоко здесь не поможет...

[seijorhi]

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.  

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh. 

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It should, but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

 Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.  

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space. 

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 

[ayphyx]

The devil

[anotherfandomtrash]

Just funny hatmen talking about funny hatmen stuff

[grzhdnsky]

I stumbled upon this blog a while ago and absolutely adore your art ❤️ and I was wondering if you had a main account of sorts ?

AH thank you! yes, my main blog is nvskyprospekt .. i kept this one hidden for a bit because i was embarrassed over having rus lit as a special interest; but not so much anymore !! so feel free to check it out :]

[rabbithub]

Haunted Painting!AU: Day 4

(Oh? I make Diavolo have empathy? I make Diavolo have empathy like the doggo? Oh! Oh! Jail for author! Jail for author for one thousand years!

Also, (artist almost dies rip))

"First, you have to find five treasures." Diavolo explained. "You know what these treasures are."

"...Vanitas, right?" You ask. "I read up on those-"

Your phone buzzes. You know your devilish muse doesn't mind you looking at your phone at this point.

-

[Owner][Day 4]

'Vanita paintings are a style of still life paintings that represent the emptiness of life. These motifs may seem mundane, but can mean something profound. Many of these motifs have many interpretations, but I have a few examples.'

'A musical instrument (i.e. trumpet) means transience of life.'

'A candle or lamp represents life's fleeting length.'

'A book or scroll means the futility of earthly knowledge.'

'A crown or jewel means vanity of wealth.'

'Lastly, a skull may mean mortality or death.'

'Ah... I'm a fra id I am to o la te, m y sp iri t is at ex ha u st ed. He ru le s ov er de a th as the re ap er hi ms e lf, an d no ne ca n be st hi m at hi s ga me.'

'I wi ll at th e le as t gi ve hi m a pl ac e in my ga ll er y af t er a ll th is. An ar t is t sh ou ld fi nd h im th er e.'

'Ye s, my bo y. I ha ve a ni ce, da rk ro om f or yo u.'

[Landlord][Day 1]

'I don't know what possessed me. I took it.'

'I ended up here, in this familiar studio. Where I found this painting. I'm in a nightmare.'

'So why did I take it? Will I see my family again? He whispers to me, perhaps confusing me for the woman who's studio I plundered the painting from. Please, lord. Forgive me. I wish I had paid mind to my art lessons.'

-

You put your phone away and set to work. You go back to your room to sketch the lamp, but decided to take it with you as well when you finished. "It might come in handy." You muse, exiting the room.

You sketched a crown hidden in the vines, the trumpet held by a cherub, and a skull on a shelf in the studio. You notice a person shaped stain below the easel, but broke focus away to go through a door.

The room is dark, and you can't see. "Wait, my soul lights up when I paint, right?" You ask yourself. "Then I can use that to light the lamp." Gathering your soul onto the brush, you light the lamp. You feel a little weak and your chest hurts a little, but you can see better. There's a diary in the fireplace, and you sketch it before picking it up.

...There's a missing spot there? You set your dimming lamp to see frames of almost similar paintings, with a empty space between them.

You phone buzzes...

-

No matter how many I paint, nothing compares to him, nothing is his equal.

My time is running thin, please paint him before my time runs out.

-

You rush out before the light fades, the door slamming shut behind you. "I...I found all five." You say, turning to face Diavolo.

"...your face looks pale." He states. "What happened in that-"

"It's-" You sigh as you cut him off, looking down. "It's not really important right now." When you look up again, the canvas showed his feet.

"Put everything you gathered on the bed." He says, that worried tone still in his voice. "I'll let you choose the colors this time."

You raise the paintbrush, your soul alighting it...

-

Somehow, you felt an ache in your heart. Something didn't feel right...

You have been calling all morning, but your sister is not answering. You thought she overslept, and started to do your laundry.

Quickly, you reached your car and drove to the hospital.

-

You finish painting the motifs, trembling; you picked gold for the trumpet and crown, purple for the book, and red for the lamp and skull.

"Bene." Diavolo answers. "Take a short break while I prepare."

"O-okay." You respond, stepping away from the canvas and sitting down. You realized that you were feeling drained- perhaps painting was draining you life away? 'I'm not going down without a fight.' You tell yourself, looking up as you see Diavolo with the motifs surrounding him.

"I will hide one of the treasures, and you will paint it here." He explains as you stand up. "Shall we begin?"

You step up to the canvas, nodding. "Yes." You answer. "Let's."

-

You hold back from speeding as you drive to the hospital, the feeling growing worse and worse. You have to get there as quickly as possible. "Hang on, sis." You say under your breath. "I'm coming."

-

You pant growing more exhausted. The first round was over. You watch as Diavolo looks you over. "We've only just started." He says, his voice soft with concern.

"I'm getting tired." You say, looking at your phone.

-

[Researcher][Day 4]

'I've heard of spirits going into the possessions they loved in life- I've collected a good number of these items, as a matter of fact. Perhaps these motifs appear due to being a manifestation of his memories, and I'm starting to realize-'

'Of course! This may have to do with the painting's painting as well! But where is her presence in all this? My body is getting weak from all this?'

'Somehow, my soul is stronger than my body is... I have a feeling the black splotch might have to do with the artist. I will rest for now, but whoever is next might be able to lift this curse. Maybe I'll wake up again, one way or another.'

-

The dying text looked different this time, not glitchy but... Different. "You know, the others haven't been able you live through this." You answer. "You'll live forever, but I can't." Your voice sounded resigned, making Diavolo stare at you with indifference-

No. This wasn't indifference, it is concern. He seems to shake it off. "... let's begin the next round." He said, sounding... remorseful?

You nod, lifting your alighted brush.

-

You burst through the hospital doors to the receptionist's desk, rattling off you were a relative and your sister's room number. The receptionist calms you down and says she'll talk to the doctor.

You sit in the waiting room, nervous. You felt like throwing up, but you hadn't eaten anything. It felt like forever until you saw a chaplain approached you. You heart drops.

You barely process the events; you were explained what had happened, you were taken to your sister's bedside where she was covered with a white sheet, and found yourself outside the room, blindsided. You notice-

It's him. You have a suspicion about it as he seems to weep openly to the doctors, but as he looked over to you, he smirked.

When there was a quiet moment with just the two of you, you whisper; "Why?"

He- the bastard that your sister was like once in love with until she realized what a monster he was, is still smirking as he gives his answer:

"If I can't have her, no one can."

-

You almost collapse, almost exhausted. Your brush is dimly lit, earning you a concerned look from Diavolo. "Well, it's over for me." You say, your tone somewhat defiant. "You won- I'm sorry you're nowhere close to finished."

He looks at you, his arrogant look seemingly to have faded. "You... You're not giving up this easily, are you?" He asks.

"I wouldn't if it wasn't for my body." You answer, focusing on the inky, body shaped stain on the floor. "My only other regret is that sister is going to be sad seeing me so soon- oh well, I guess it's a win either way."

"..." Diavolo doesn't say anything, for a moment. "You and a couple others listened to me- and you never gave up. You remind me of another artist, she seemed to be as morose as you. I wonder where she went..."

Your phone buzzes. "I think I know." You answer, knowing that soon after, you'd join your sister...

-

'My fellow artist? Will you listen? Will you let me regale you a tale of this portrait of mine, of the vivid, horrible week we spent together, and our'

-

"No."

No? You look up, seeing Diavolo holding a skull with a dim flame in it; the flame growing brighter. "I'm not letting you die like this, with neither of our ends of this unfulfilled." He says, his eyes full of angry tears. "We're going back to the beginning."

You were confused; he was trying to torment you the past few days, and now he was trying to save you?! "Just rest now." He said, eyes defiant to your possible death. "I will fix this."

You pass out as you hear a woman's voice speak;

"...and of her final days...?"

[paraclete0407]

Stuff I might never get to do (from books I read after I thought I had mastered the Bible / Scripture)

1.

Theories of ‘political vision’ - ex. Obama’s ‘A Promised Land,’ or from someone I miss, UKPM David Cameron’s ‘For the Record.’  Also records of military careers and the consequences and lessons therefrom, particularly Gen., Prof. Stanley A. McChrystal’s ‘My Share of the Task’ - decades of one meal a day, utterly excellent love-letters and wisdom-writings to his wife, sweeping reports, culminating in the operation that ‘extrajudicially or para-judicially executed’ bin Laden.  I also never forgot the NYTimes photo of the SEAL operator’s back-muscles.  My giant Obama critique, however, was one of those ‘grandfather Hall of Presidents’ books that I want to postpone.

2.

My mistakes and wishes.  Ex. the woman I wanted to marry in early 2011; I had cut off my parents for 6 months and called one night my mom; she got really drunk that night, flirted with foreigners from [ultra-mercenary cram-school that hires anyone], got terrorized by [b/Black man of the type who clearly believes ‘As I am b/Black I know everything worth knowing and can terrorize, antagonize, demonize anyone and anything for the greater glory of my own ego / Chairman Mao].  Culminating in me in the ladies’ room telling her to get up and I told her so, going back to the pub-room and threatening the mercenaries, and finally being ‘mogged,’ masculinity-compromised or eclipsed / overpowered, by the man who was either her surrogate father-figure, rapist, seducee-turned-wrist-breaking-controller, no one really knew, and my ex-father-figure who however either a) failed to bait the trap properly and/or b) failed to communicate the true meaning and message and purpose of his love for me, to me.  But, it was instrumental in blowing what was probably the best job I ever had, and the only job that ever asked me back. 

After that I started honestly trying to live for either a) the younger generation b) ‘just me.’  I also made a number of hard or soft promises to students involving me writing stuff.  Don’t say ‘will’ or ‘might’ to Koreans b/c it kind of spiritually translates in to ‘shall’ or ‘must’ or ‘has to.’  They’re the poor in spirit from what I can tell.  

I also drove around California for a while, missed a job-offer from a Catholic university in [central Korean city], and thought a lot about F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Studied Emmanuel ‘ethics-as-first-philosophy love-of-wisdom-converting-into-wisdom-of-love’ Levinas a bit, read ‘Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother’ and couldn’t sleep

3.

Sundry ‘Teacher Dream(s).’  I’d been hoping in a way that ‘Free Food for Millionaires’ author Min Jin Lee, JD Yale etc, would put this all in her ‘American Hagwon’ but she’s been baking fancy cakes and writing offside / deflective lit. about Japanese gays for like 10 years while NK marched on in real life killing people and Koreans were also dying from numerous causes, running away from home, economically induced suicide, amazing shame- and rape-culture: cashing in.  I remember my last night at the hagwon, a time of bonhomie, when I perhaps might’ve even said, ’Y’know, can I un-resign-in-protest?’  Boss, What’ll you miss most about Korea, Korean women?’  Me (playing the fool), ‘There are Korean women in America.’  Boss, (sforzando), ‘Gyopo women.’

My ‘best guess’ anyway at ‘edubusiness’ was sth I labored at off and on for now like 6 years called ‘Three Kings’ which is partly about a white ex-literary agent family named ‘Foch’ after the French Generalissime who actually won WW1, famous for his ‘moral factor’ theory of war as well as his remark, ‘This is not a peace but an armistice for 20 years.  He makes 400,000 dollars in his 1st year of college by advising his roommate to publish his ‘freshman’ novel with an extreme ‘point,’ not worrying about winning every possible reader, just let me edit all the sign-post-phrases and tell you what I firmly believe you were trying to write, sell this novel for 2million dollars, marry the Korean girl across the hall, forget RU, cultivate life and love with your stylus, and I’ll continue to march on simultaneously trying to promote love while reading everyone and everything semi-against or [angle / thrust-vector to] their grain (for their own good).  Later he starts a school with his two friends, an MD/PhD program dropout from LA and an MBA ex-Samsung Managing Director or something.  But in the end his MD/PhD friend can’t stop thinking about [student’s] amazing breasts and [MBA] friend can’t stop hating and short-selling himself w/r/t marriage and self-regard b/c he’s stuck in the other-always-has-more-money-always-more-money-to-make mentality.  In the end the protagonist resigns in protest from the company he himself designed, developed, planned, etc. but didn’t have the money to call his own after reaching the position of ‘Joint Department Head’ which is kind of like ‘Chief of Staff’ to a president at a much smaller scale.  He’s a devout literal Christian or at least Christianist who wishes the world were Christian and he reflects in the end on the Longfellow poem about the Three Kings who ‘know King Herod’s hate’ and had to travel back to their homelands a different way.  There is also a possibly-to-be-deleted ‘Interludio Meridiana’ where he happens across the molested constantly male-gazed student in Nonhyeon (a neighborhood South of the Han River but not at all like the PSY song), starts to hear Palestrina’s ‘Sicut Cervus’ (listen to it on YouTube - Palestrina’s polyphony philosophy is one of the crowns of human art) in his head, wanders down to the bus depot and finds that his thoughts / creativity etc. have become cathected, chained to, or at least led by memory, and he has joined a ‘chain of being’ that connects the past to the future.  

4.

‘Bethlehem Dream’ - kind of my homage to the forementioned Kim Minju of IZ*ONE, my last favorite pop-star before assuring Christian friend I’d stop following K-pop (I’m against BlackPink and their entire organization).  Connects to all my dreams and theories of education - including my extreme disillusionment with education, and sympathy for anyone made the ‘beneficiary’ of the latest theory or tool - as well my homage to the school that most closely approximates my dream school, Prof,. Pastor, Dr. Chancellor John Piper’s Bethlehem College and Seminary in Minneapolis.  And also, women’s desire to have children / babies, even without husbands, men’s desire to bear spiritual fruit with or without traditional fellowship.

5.

Masculinity in novels.  Not Norman Mailer Philip Roth stuff but novels that can lens reality from the top down and not get addicted to some or other cupidity or method of endearing / charming the audience, which often makes them stupider or causes them to regard hidden truth as an outright lie and/or triviality.  MJL’s ‘Free Food for Millionaires’ was pretty masculine; better is billionaire Michael Kim’s ‘Offerings,’ a novel I wish I could teach someone only I can’t find a good student / reader and maybe I myself missed the point and only thought I got it.

Thinking quitting while ahead - I really don’t know whether adding to people’s minds and knowledge at this point in Time is good or whether writing amounts to feasting the already glutted, furnishing them further excuses for disbelief and inaction and alienating / dividing them from the hungry and poor.  I like a song called ‘Love Song for No. 1.’  Remember talking about a walk in the woods I took, understanding something about the Other’s first language the authenticity of this language and its nativity to their understanding and ‘originary’ or ‘birth-mother’ identity or ‘self-system.’  Not something to tell your Anglo-but-ish-they-were-Teutonic biological parents because they will make like they want to backhand your head off then spend years denying they’re either racist, non-believers, or what I have come to call anti-believers; people who amid ‘Delta Covid Summer’ are trying to destroy the beliefs of others.  Also Dr. R.C Sproul Ligonier Ministries, ‘Forgetfulness is apostasy.’

6.

‘Flowers on Water.’  Kind of my homage to Krystal Jung Soojung of ‘hieroglyphic’ girl-group f(x) and later IMO excellent actress, her best moment perhaps the final episode of ‘My Lovely Girl,’ a shocking and awesome scene that appears to talk about Resurrection and Eternity.  The protagonist is another cynical edubusinessman who is thinking about mass-death, getting mad at mainstream American Christianity for singing songs while people were drowning, and finally on Google Books comes across a teacher-poem from 1881 titled ‘Flowers,’ for a group of rather hapless seemingly American Indian students in California as well as critiques of educational praxis which, in 1881, were identical to what they are today.  ‘God is sovereign in all things’ - such a difficult category.  I abandoned this novel for a number of reasons such as the belief that I might be able to reverse-engineer Brad Thor or something for a quick buck.  Went to Half Price Books (now closed) where they had a picture of the Jackson Five over the toilet in the men’s room.  I read a bit of a one-dollar Brad Thor book about Russia but on the way on home I once started once again dreaming mytically about Korean girls / women as it began to snow and thinking about ‘Lo How a Rose E’er Blooming’ (’Es Ist Ein Rosentsprungen) the German Nativity song which Michael Praetorius composed at least in part in response to the appalling Reformation Wars and out of a hope or wish that remembrance of Christ’s birth could somehow reunite the Church.  This also made me think about a high school I admire / respect and my old friend and his now-divorced wife with whom I many times fantasized about singing and talking with again; and whom I kind of wish I could tell the author of ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ remarried his first wife eventually but IDK what good it is to give already-dreaming people more dreams either.  

It’s 9:35 AM and my ‘insomnia’ type notebook-postings haven’t made me any new friends in a while.  My last thing is just, if you care about Education or young girls / American women / culture / schools, achievement, heroines, stories, or for that matter Bible-translation or the latter-day odysseys of the nominal Episcopalian Church, with trembling heart, try to reflect on Headmaster Josiah Bunting III’s ‘All Loves Excelling.’  

One of my favorite Christian songs is ‘The Death of King David’

And God said that day shall dawn

to bring that flow’r newly born

from thy stem in fullness growing

in fragrance sweet night and morn

all My people shall adorn

with Breath of life bestowing

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah