#seems maybe a bit too detailed to include in the AU

[ceiling-karasu]

It’s funny how glasses work in the Squirrel and Hedgehog Universe

For the most part, it appears that glasses and sunglasses just sit and balance on the nose.

But then there is this guy from Operation: White Snow.

Those are regular looking glasses complete with temple frames that go around the back. Is it a style? We do not see many Flower Hill characters wearing glasses, so maybe Flower Hill has frames that go towards the ears instead of balancing, while the Weasel Unit just has them balance.

That would make sense, since Flower Hill citizens are working, doing actual labor, and might be moving around more than a simple balancing would allow.

Most of the Weasel Unit characters seen wearing glasses are higher ups who technically would not have to move around much, other than giving orders. The exception is Mulmangcho, although in both S1 and S2, his glasses seem to sit further back on his nose than with the others, which might be a style that provides more balance. Then again, he technically does have a higher position than regular soldier.

On the other hand:

Goggles in the Squirrel and Hedgehog universe appear the be attached to the helmet, if not around the back of the head (eyepatches are shown to go around the head).

The temple frames on the squirrel above do not appear to go up around his ears, which given that the show has characters hold radios up to their actual ears instead of just the side of their heads, seems like a strange detail to miss.

It is possible that the glasses are attached to the helmet, since he would be doing skiing, an activity that might cause the other style of glasses falling off. Which opens up some interesting possible ideas about helmets having specific attachments for these types of glasses.

Altjoigh, if there was a style element attached to role and status, it would be funny for there to be an AU story where a traitor or scout gets caught because they worse the wrong style of glasses. Like a Weasel Unit scout claims to be a farm worker at a checkpoint, and the hedgehogs immediately pull him aside for more questioning because not with those glasses he isn’t!

[kiruamon]

Magical Caretaker AU - The day we met

Did anyone asked for more Magical Caretaker AU lore? Just me? Well I'll still share it with you guys. So let us go over through a few details and how their first meeting with Y/N went. (Also! There are lots of sketches after the text that depicture what I'm describing! So even if you don't feel like reading, maybe give them a look if you want to.) The very first time you met Sun and Moon in this au, they were some angry smol beans. It's said that their different species are not often visiting the human realm. But if they do and cross paths it usually leads into them fighting to death and taking each other out. Due to an accident Sun and Moon ended up in the human realm at a very, very young age for a single day. They were so young that they could be considered childs even if age is a bit hard to track down with certain beings. They ended up in the same forest that's close to your home. Some would say it was fate, others that it was the natural course, as their species seem to attract each other when the two crossed paths. Leading their instincts to take over and fight. Their fight wasn't as lethal as the ones of the grown up specimens. Sun and Moon exhausted themselves instead of causing any mayor injuries. And that was, when you came by. A stick in your hand, lost in a game of pretend to be a powerful wizard like the ones in the story books your granny read to you during bedtime. Your eyes roamed around, looking for anything interesting to include in your imaginary adventure. Like a toppled tree. A nice rock to climb on. Maybe you would find a cool bug or a woodlizard pretending to be a twig. And then you saw them. The two small shapes in the grass. Their tiny bodies covered in bite marks and scratches. You rushed to their side and knelt down before them. Trying to use the bits of magic that rested inside your small body. You were not very well trained yet. But you always had watched your granny very carefully whenever she had used her own magic. You have seen her healing wounds before. Maybe, you can do it too? So you gave it a try. It was hard for your little body to bend the magic flow of your own self to your will. But it worked. Flakes of glimmering magic escaped your fingertips, slowly sinking down onto the two small creatures and healing up their tiny injuries as you picked them up to let them rest in your arms. After a bit, they seemed to awaken again. Drowsy at first, their eyes soon widened in startled confusion. Again their instincts kicked in, together with fear not just of each other but you as well.

All while you gave your best to keep them apart on your lap. Not letting them harm each other anymore. Your efforts weren't rewarded too kindly as you received bites and scratches when tiny teeth sharp as needles pierced through your skin. You whined in pain, sniffling even a bit. You didn't meant to scare them. And you certainly didn't wanted them to get hurt again. So despite all you still tried to calm them down. Telling them, you know they were scared, that you know how that felt, but that fighting would not make it better. That it would only hurt again. So you begged them again to stop.

Maybe it was your words, maybe it was your tears that dripped down on their little heads and faces or perhaps just the tone in your quivering voice that made them pause. Looking up at your tear filled face and finally - finally - calming down enough to notice their no longer aching bodies. Your hands trembled under their thin fingers. They gazed at you, then at each other. As if silently communicating without one single word, their bodies slowly seemed to relax. Their mouths opened to give your finger and hand free. Just for you to find them nuzzling their faces into your warm and gentle hands.

Destiny or not. The bonds you made this day with your two new friends, did not crumble with the years as at one warm summer evening, Sun and Moon would appear once more in your life. And this time, they would stay.

Additional sketches:

Sun and Moon being scared

You made your small friends little flower necklaces, calling them cute. Which kind of stuck with Moon a lot. (Hence why he was so happy later in his life when you gave him the bow ribbon with the bell.)

All grown up, you still are their most precious human.

[ichorai]

airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there. 

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too. 

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old. 

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight. 

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay. 

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.” 

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words. 

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car. 

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead. 

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again. 

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward. 

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills. 

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs. 

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next. 

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often. 

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you. 

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut. 

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead. 

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come. 

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight. 

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question. 

Or was it? 

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests. 

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again. 

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music. 

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy. 

“Sandy?” 

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?” 

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.” 

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip. 

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve. 

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric. 

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything. 

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut. 

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on. 

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears. 

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother. 

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief. 

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone. 

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head. 

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it. 

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you're playing the game, and notice how your operators seem to move on their own, but you attribute it to stick shift, but it's really them keeping an eye out for themselves even when you're not paying attention.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you take a quick break to scroll on tiktok, either alone or in a party with friends, and the operators on screen seem to... move a bit more than you've seen in other instances. Their sway is more aparent, their idles include more detail, but nothing too out of the blue.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who make sure they get good kills and are always aware, keeping your K/D in the positives and always using their "in game" senses to be aware.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who pray to have a new, fashionable skin, just so you can play with them a little bit longer.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who laugh at your curses and shit talk, enjoying when you speak your mind, or listening to music if you do, maybe even just listening to your breathing as you play.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who gush when you fawn over them in new skins, or over your favorite ones, who can't hide their pleasure and smile. It's an idle, you think, but it's always very convenient that they do it "on time" after you compliment them.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but feel jealous when you favor more... popular operators. Ghost, Konig, Gaz, Soap, etc... they want to feel even a fraction of the praise you give them.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who seethe when their base skin isn't available in the more affordable packs, wanting to spend time with you and show off their skill instead of being stuck behind a locked screen...

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but laugh anytime you play one of the guest operators, Niki, Snoop, Homeland, etc. It's so odd seeing them on a battlefield or even in the operator screen, but as long as you're happy, they adapt quickly.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who up the ping on opposing teams, lag switching them, or even causing their games to crash just so you can secure the win. Any for you.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who don't understand why their universe connects to yours through the game, but with this connection, they crave to bring you to their world. The fight that would ensue on who gets to keep you? That's something they know will come but refuse to accept.

[dazedantics]

Dunno if this exists yet, but someone needs to write stories of twst clubs x reader, where members slowly become more attached and possessive of Y/N, could be mild or bordering on yandere actions, platonic or romantic. Includes all clubs, even the single member ones. They can also be set in the current NRC timeline or in the future or as a whole different AU.

Here's some examples and ideas to fuel you to start,

"Basketball Club × Reader" - Be ready to go pro with this ambitious group, Jamil, Ace, and Floyd. An unexpected turn of events is sure to ensue if the time is right, or wrong rather, but rest assured that you'll soon be set back on track by the level headed of the members. You say you don't like the spontaneity? Don't worry, me neither. But if I can, then I'm sure you could also find it in your heart to forgive and just go along with it, yes? Oh dear, don't you seem out of it today. Here, let us help. Just follow my every instruction ... yes, just like that ... it's good to know you're the most cooperative of us ...

"Pop Music Club x Reader" - Have fun jammin' out and sharing crazy stories with this energetic trio, Lilia, Cater, and Kalim. You'll always feel welcomed and noticed here whether you know how to hum a tune or have never touched an instrument in your life. Just enjoy the tea and spill your darkest secrets whenever you'd like, this group is patient and remembers every last detail, you'll never want to leave. Though, if the thought does cross your mind, you'll need to announce your upcoming absence so we can throw a goodbye party. But, maybe you shouldn't. We'll just remind you of all the good times you'll miss. For one last time, we'll laugh and joke about how horrible and destroyed your life would be without us. We know everything about you, even the diabolical. Why, if your secrets were to be spread through magicam like wildfire, it'd close so many doors for you, no one would ever look at you the same. You don't want that, right? It'd be best to just stay here with us where your peace of mind is secured, right? You're free to go, but please don't forget us. And don't forget that all it takes is one push of a button to push your life downhill ...

"Spelldrive Club x Reader" - Soar through the skies as you chase your victory alongside this competitive bunch, Leona, Ruggie, and Epel. You train hard everyday, but there's still time to get together during breaks, the chipper of your group bonding over your mutual desire to crush the competition as your captain snoozes. Other, bigger, teams want to recruit you which is a great opportunity. You're honored. And you should be, but don't you know you're the most valuable member of the team? We couldn't make it without you. Not to mention, we'd be heartbroken to see you leave. These guys are too proud to say it, but deep down you know it's true. Those other guys may be better against teams we haven't been able to beat, but they'll never support you as much we do. You wouldn't want to lose the people who love you most, would you? No? Ah, I'm glad. Don't worry, we're sure to win someday, just stick with us and you'll never have to worry about disappointing anyone again ...

"Equestrian Club x Reader" - Gallop through endless fields alongside your law-abiding yet tender companions, Sebek, Silver, and Riddle. Rest assured that with these three you'll have bushels of fun, but more importantly, you'll always be safe. Always. Perhaps a bit too safe ... but there's no such thing, right? Just follow our instructions quickly and obediently, quietly, and you'll never have to worry about the risks of riding through the wilderness again. We promise not to let you get hurt. If it takes being restricted to only the land visible to us, so be it ... hm? Oh, my apologies, I am simply running my mouth. Pay it no mind. Ah, hey, not that way. Why? Well, we haven't quite explored there yet and we'd rather not risk endangering you or the poor horses. Perhaps we can take a look at it tomorrow and see if it's fit for a trot, yes? I agree, now why don't we head back, I can guide your horse for you if you'd like. Just sit back and relax, you're safe with us taking the reins, I promise. The most safe you'll ever be ...

"Track & Field Club x Reader" - Live life fast and furious with this driven pair, Deuce and Jack. You'll always be encouraged to push your limits with their helpful hollers. You won't be upset long with their optimistic cheering. But make sure you show up for every meet, if not, they'll worry about you. They'll go looking for you. And they will find you. Hey, we haven't seen you around lately, is everything okay? Is now a bad time? I'm sorry, but we really missed you yesterday and just wanted to know nothing bad happened. Why don't you come join us for lunch tomorrow, we don't have to practice. We'll get you whatever you want, promise. Wait! You ... weren't planning on leaving me behind again, were you? Good. Ya had me worried for a second, haha. So, we'll meet up at 2:30? Great. Afterwards we can just hangout. And if you want to go for a quick jog again we'd be more than happy to. We've always been faster than you, though, remember? But, don't worry, we'll go easy on you if you ask. Just don't bolt when we're not looking so we don't have to worry and chase after you ... again ...

"Film Research Club x Reader" - Get ready to make strides in the acting business as you perform and work behind the scenes with model and tech genius, Vil and Ortho. Just make sure you aren't so distracted by the applause and spotlights that you forget to read the fine print of your contract. You wish to quit? I'm sorry, My Dear, but I'm afraid you've agreed to work with only us for xxxx amount of years and we need you to play this next lead in order to ensure our film trumps Neige's. Don't worry, we know all the right tips and tricks to secure perfection, just read the script as directed. Exactly. As directed ...

"Science Club x Reader" - Slip those safety goggles on and hold your breath as you run experiments with this curious pair, Trey and Rook. There's nothing better than getting your hands on new and exciting material. Not exactly sure why you're here? No worries! Not all of us are either, but we have fun here. Any experiments you've heard of you'd like to try? Only illegal ones? No problem we can get our hands on the items needed just tell us what they are ... a funny joke? No. I'm dead serious ... we've done plenty before ... ahaha! You look so frightened, lighten up, no one's died ... yet ... hey wait don't give that look. Sorry if that was too much. We're careful enough to keep things safe ... unnoticed ... what's that liquid? Oh just some juice for a friend using the fruits in here, would you like to try it? Here, have a sip ... what's that? It burns? Ah, I see let's write that down. What else are you feeling? What? Using you? No way, we'd never do something so cruel ... you're simply helping us learn as our lab partner ... oh stop that, no one else is here ... now tell me before things escalate ... what other sensations are you feeling ... fascinating ... it's different compared to last time ... too bad you forget after you wake up ... it's why we have to keep doing this ... over ... and over again

"Board Game Club x Reader" - Roll up thise sleeves and bring your a-game as you play with these competitive gamers, Azul and Idia. Have fun and forget the days worries as you make you way across the mat, never will these two give you a boring game. Though that doesn't mean we can't take things up a notch ... What say you we have a little wager? We beat you xx amount of times and you do us a little favor in return? I promise there'll be no foul play. You could ask a favor of us too if you win. In fact we can sweeten the deal even more if you're game ... no? Oh, don't tell me you're scared you'll lose ... you're not? Good. Then there's no issue making a harmless bet, yes? How lovely ... now, why don't we all sign this paper to ensure no one chickens out when they lose ... oh don't worry it's nothing serious, just a sheet of rules, standard club ware yes? Yes ... now right on the line ... good job. You agreed to sign this freely remember? Right. So don't go back on you word later ... nothing good comes of cheaters ... trust me ... I take care of all of them ...

"Gargoyle Studies Club x Reader" - Prepare to learn each and every random tidbit about each little stone as you explore the ruins with this wise companion, Malleus. Everything may go in one ear and out the other but this voice just so dreamy that you don't mind the rambles, right? But please do make an effort, no one likes a dimwit who can't tell the difference between a grotesque and a gargoyle. But, oh dear, it looks like you really are getting tired. Don't worry, I know how to care for my own, you can slumber for the next century safe at my side. I promise to be here when I let you wake up. At least then we won't need worry about those pesky mortals who wrestle your time from me. Hm, what was that ... you feel disoriented ...? Oh you needn't worry, that's a standard effect ... you won't feel a thing in a moment ... trust me ... your dearest friend ... I'll always be watching over you ...

"Mountain Lovers Club x Reader" - Embark on cozy and informative hikes through the mountains with your knowledgable partner Jade. But beware the trained smiles and pre-packed lunches, you may end up a little further out than planned. Oh, don't worry, the place I had in mind is just a little further along, I promise. You trust me, don't you? Good, then everything should go smoothly. Hm? You're not feeling well? Ah, perhaps you ate something you shouldn't have ... I do hope you were taking note of those wilderness survival tips I gave you ... though, they may not be of much help to you underwater ... hm? Oh, I wasn't saying anything of importance, don't mind me. You did say you trust me, yes? I'd like to find out just how much ...

Honestly, I had a lot of fun writing these ideas, even though I did forget about them for a while.

[thelunarfairy]

Hello again! (I think this is really becoming a habit. 😅)

Today I have more of a curiosity question — it’s not exactly related to the recent chapters, but rather to one of the AUs (alternate universes) of Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun.

Do you remember that wizard AU you mentioned when I asked about Hanako’s IQ? Well, I got curious about a few details in that AU. If you don't mind, I'd love to hear your opinion!

First question:

What do you think about the fact that, in this AU, Tsukasa has magic and is a strong wizard while Amane seems to be just a normal student without magic?

I wasn’t really sure whether, in this AU, people are born with magic or if they can somehow acquire it later, but I found it interesting that AidaIro chose to give Tsukasa powers while Amane seems “normal” (at least, in my opinion).

What’s your perspective on that?

Second question:

In this universe, it’s obvious that Amane knows Tsukasa is a wizard Since Amane stopped Tsukasa from kidnapping either Yashiro or Aoi, with a drone making him retreat and Tsukasa gives in so easily when Amane stops him, even though he seemed like he wanted to kidnap one of the girls.

I found that moment funny, but also a little sad. Tsukasa seems to have such a strong bond with Amane that he easily gives in to him.

Back to the topic: even though this is just an AU, it feels like AidaIro might be subtly sending a "signal" through it — Tsukasa having power, Amane being seemingly normal, but still recognizing and influencing him.

What do you think? Doesn’t it kind of reflect their relationship in the main manga?

P.S.:

Maybe I’m just overthinking it — AidaIro makes a lot of AUs that aren’t directly connected to the main story, but there are always little details that seem to match the current manga.

Since I find this AU particularly interesting, I would really love to hear your thoughts on it (if you don’t mind)!

This is purely out of curiosity!

Sorry if it’s not very interesting or if it sounded a bit confusing.

Hello!!!

It's interesting, I would say, that Aidairo likes to say all the time how "normal" Amane was, including in the meaning of his own name. We see a bit of this when he mentions the twin stars, where one shines brighter than the other.

Something that is reinforced in small points throughout the canon story. In the AU we go something more direct, with Tsukasa being the most powerful, the one who stands out the most, the great magician who started this story.

Despite everything, I wonder if Amane really prefers the title of "normal" that he has, instead of "different" or "popular". The twins have this thing of contrast, when Amane is one thing, Tsukasa is another.

He himself says that he and Amane are opposites.

About the source of magic (I needed a little help from my sis to remember this) it can be acquired by normal people using some spells, turning some characters into sweets, like Kou, for example.

But, there's nothing to say that people aren't born with magic, it's something they have to discover for themselves. Still, maybe not just anyone can become a magician. (Thanks sis for helping me remember that XD).

Amane is the smart guy who likes to create complex things using his hands, like robots, fixing watches, etc. He has a "teacher" style.

While Tsukasa is more inclined towards practical things related to "power", be it physical strength or magic. Even though Tsukasa is undeniably smart, he doesn't seem to be interested in things like mechanics or robotics like Amane.

Tsukasa wanted to have some fun, in the literal sense of the word. From the beginning he's been testing the girls, when they rebel against him, he has fun. Nothing too serious.

Even though Tsukasa loves Amane, when he wants something, not even his older brother can stop him.

That's why it wasn't anything serious.

Just remember the clock arc, Amane had to stop Tsukasa by force, because he didn't listen to his requests. Amane had to stick the knife in Tsukasa's sleeve to make him stop.

Tsukasa gives in when he doesn't consider something important.

So, going back to the AU, yes, Amane knows XD.

And yes, there may be this reference or slight connection. Aidairo usually does this sometimes, an AU that can show us the future in canon or something specific to keep an eye on.

Twitter event:

Canon:

So yes.

Don't worry dear! Thanks for the ask and sorry for the delay in answering. ^^

[angelthefandomobsessed]

Not the be that one person, but to totally be that one person... There's this one account posting a bunch of stories under Twisted Wonderland on AO3 named FantasiaStories (normally I wouldn't name and shame, but uh... for reasons detailed in the rest of the post, I feel quite comfortable in calling them out). After doing a little bit of investigative journalism (because seeing these stories while browsing got real old, real fast), I'm absolutely positive that they're AI-generated.

Why do I think that?

Come with me on a little red-flag-infested deep dive.

Red flag 1: Timelines

Their AO3 account was created at the end of March, 2025. Around two months ago.

In that time, they have posted 62 fanworks, all over 1,000 words. On some days, they'll post a handful of fanfics to AO3. Here are the fandoms they post in, and how much they have posted within them.

My condolences to the Call of Duty fandom; they truly have it worse than we do.

Red flag 2: Just look at it...

Their Twisted Wonderland posts (from what I've read of them) never seem too knowledgeable. Here is a breakdown of 'The Rite of Storm and Flame', and how it betrays its own thin facade within paragraphs.

Maybe even by the summary... What jumps out at you as odd here?

Is it the correct use of the em dash? I never use them correctly in my fics, because they're a pain, I have to copy/paste them everywhere (and I only recently learned how to use them correctly... I kept putting spaces on either side, because that looks better, but no, that's only okay in journalism, or something).

The formal punctation is a bit of a red flag, but not entirely damning. Plenty of more experienced writers will use accurate punctuation throughout their fanfics... Not many (because it's a paaaaain), but they do exist.

What's really, really weird here is the 'tallest tower' of Diasomnia.

I guess it does have a tower taller than the others. By like, a bit. But why are we trapped there? Let's read on and find out. This is the opening paragraph:

So now it's an 'ancient spire'.

Now it's an observatory that is centuries old with a heavy ironing door that has a locking mechanism??? With no explanations as to why the 'author' has included that detail. What stars were we studying? Diasomnia is super murky and potentially in a pocket dimension. Why would anybody think this up? Scarabia would make more sense for stargazing, or even just Ramshackle. These might seem like small details, but they add up into a vague, nonsense picture.

Skipping down a few paragraphs, we find a description of Malleus.

Ah yes, Malleus Draconia, guardian of Diasmonia, master of arcane arts older than Diasmonia itself, which has been established to be centuries old, but has not been established to be a dorm.

Now to be fair, NRC is actually centuries old with the Lilia of it all. I believe we know that Pomefiore is the oldest dorm (because... Snow White), so Diasomnia could have been founded centuries ago, and it could have a random observatory with a random locking mechanism...

But it's all so weird, and vague, and unexplored.

We also have 'a tale to frighten apprentices' which is super weird phrasing, that implies that this isn't NRC, but some other place called Diasmonia. Is it an AU or an AI that has no idea what it's actually talking about, because it doesn't have a brain? Whoooo knows?

They do a back and forth, there's a very quick, very basic sex scene, it ends.

There's one with Leona where it references him being a prince... but it sort of frames it as sort of an English, Game of Throne-sy type of royalty. Like, here, look:

The tapestries and hall and cloak don't read as Sunset Savanna to me... They read as 'Write me a story about a prince lol'. There's no nuance, no love for the source material, and no indication that a person who cares wrote it (because they didn't write it and they certainly didn't care).

Maybe you're reading this and thinking, "Gee Angel, you're being pretty harsh... What if this is a real person? What if you're wrong, and you're trampeling over a new writer's dreams? What if they really are churning out 5,000 words a day, or whatever?"

I am 100% positive that these are works of AI.

Why do I think that..?

Red Flag 3: THEY LITERALLY SAY THAT THEY ARE

I was burying the lead for this whole thing. Sorry about that.

In the notes of their AO3 'fanfics', they put something along the lines of...

(Note: The quote does not appear anywhere in the fic, it's literally just a call to action... blegh)

Now where does that 'Try Fantasia Stories' link go..? Most people would be smart enough not to click it.

I am not most people.

It takes the moron user (me) to this.

Now I'm no private investigator, but this seems like pretty clear evidence that the stories are being generated with this CleverBot lookin' thing.

By linking to this, there is a chance that they are violating AO3's content policy... however, this might not be the case. It looks sketchier than Azul, but it might not be for profit (I'm not poking around to find out).

The website sharing a name with the account is pretty suspicious to me, though.

Fun fact: AI work is considered perfectly acceptable by AO3's current policies so uh... that's unfortunate.

It might qualify as spam, but I doubt it, because their stories are reasonably different from one another.

So... what can we do about this?

We can all mute the user, be free from their constant low-effort posts, and go about our days.

That's it from me. If you recognised this account name and thought they were real, I'm sorry to have brought this unfortunate news to you. If you had never heard about them, that's probably for the best... And if you had seen their works and found something fishy about them, I hope you feel very vindicated.

[raasturi]

You know what, the Fairly OddParents fandom has been quite tame. Let's spice things up a little bit.

Doesn't anybody else get that silly feeling when you see fanart of Peri being like a father to Dev, like... where's the rest of you 😍? Don't be shy, show us where Dale is. Or are you too scared? (I wouldn't blame you, I was too at first)

Small warning: this post includes slight swearing and many brain-numbing headcanons. I'm not responsible for any mental anguish you may experience

I would like to quickly apologize to the 6 people shipping Peri with Dale. I thought I was the only one but it seems like I've finally found my people. Anyways, back to the topic.

Now that you're here, I may as well show some more art of these two goobers +some silly headcanons. These are my AUed* versions of the two in my odd semi-realistic style that I completely ditch whenever I don't have the patience to draw faces (I often suck at drawing them. No wonder all my OCs are furries)

Note: him being slightly chubby and him having mobility issues are both headcanons I have shamelessly borrowed from others in the fandom. Also am I the only one who thinks Peri WOULDN'T be 6 ft tall? In the series he's like 5 apples tall, so wouldn't it make sense for him to be a bit short?

Note: there's like a bunch of lore explaining the reason why Dale looks so fucked up in my version. I scarred him for life, oopsie! But at least he has Peri now who "forces" him to go to therapy 😍. I may need to make a seperate post where I only talk about him and his past if I have the motivation.

I know a lot of you don't even know the pain of trying to convert a stylized character into a realistic style and still making them look good and kinda recognizable. I envy you who have less realistic art styles.

*And yes, I did say AU. More specifically I'm talking about the "Missionaries of Eden AU" (by me). I'm not gonna go into detail now, but basically it's a semi-biblical and more serious take on FOP, where the fairies are angels, anti-fairies are demons and pixies... I think they can stay as pixies, or maybe they're ghosts, bees? (There's a lot of things I still need to figure out) Their tasks are to work as missionaries on the planets of Eden (planets where life exists). There's a bunch of other lore (some of which I've explained on my casual/personal account on Instagram), but it's best I leave it for another time.

Btw: if you've seen me talk about a "Below the Stars AU", "Bible AU", "Ager DLC" or something else, it's all just the same thing. I just had a hard time coming up with a good name for it lol.

Also speaking of which, I have another post coming up (hopefully) where I explain my reasons for shipping Peri and Dale. It can honestly, out of context, seem like a toxic yaoi crack ship, but believe it or not but I managed to make it the opposite; plausible AND healthy. I want to enlighten you all plus I really want to yap about them.

It feels super funny to ship such a underrated ship. I'm used to shipping semi-popular ships, so to now be all alone feels kinda fun! They have so much potential and so few are seeing the vision?? Though to be fair I'm also glad it's not that famous lmao.

Ps. Ignore the fact I haven't posted anything here for at least half-a-year. All my mutuals are on Instagram, so I don't have a need to post here, though now I've decided to dedicate this account to hyperfixation slop so maybe you'll be hearing from me much sooner.

Ps. Ps. I currently have a 22-page-long google doc filled with lore and info about almost everything I've thought of for the AU, but it's 80% in Finnish so sharing it is useless.

Man, I love writing unnecessary long posts knowing I'm the only one reading them❤️😍 though if you HAVE gotten this far, here's a little treat:

My body refuses to draw Dale in his original outfit. I like to pretend Peri helped him change a bit (most notably taking off his goddamn shoes, though they do have some lore that I've created. GGHHRRAAA EVERYTHING HAS LORE ATTACHED TO IT GRRRR). Also Dev isn't actually grumpy, he just likes to act tough.

My art style looks probably so inconsistent❤️

[colormepurplex2]

The Demon Is In The Details | Sweet, Sweet Soul

↳ Demon!Jimin x Human!f.Reader ⤜ Crossroads Demon AU, Accidental Enthrallment ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 9,928 ⚠️ Crass language, soul sucking, dick piercing, cock sucking, kissing, biting, mild nipple play/biting/there is blood involved, blood drinking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, body worship, enthrallment/instant infatuation, begging, vaginal sex, creampie, cum play/eating, insatiable lust, lost soul, demon metamorphosis

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

You’re not sure what you expected—but, a lavish bedroom complete with a four-poster bed and sitting area with plush upholstered furniture wasn’t it. It all feels so…human. You can almost pretend like you are just on an extended vacation, staying at some ritzy hotel.

“So, this is where demons live, huh?” You try not to let too much sarcasm thread into your words. “Was expecting more fire and brimstone and less velvet and lace,” you say, plucking at the lacy fringe of the canopy drapes that are pulled back on the bed.

The demon sniffs, his chin turning up in mild indignation. “Fire and brimstone? What utter nonsense,” he mutters, but you can tell he’s just sure to be loud enough for you to hear.

That prickles a bit. It’s not like you’re precisely well-versed on the whole demon thing. Are you supposed to know that demons enjoy the lap of luxury instead of broiling in sulfuric pits of steaming sludge? Everything you’ve ever read, heard, or been taught hinges on the idea that demons are hellish monsters that dwell in Hell. And considering Hell is supposed to be a place of fire and brimstone, well, put two and two together, and you don’t think your assumption is a stretch.

“Is this even Hell?” you ask.

Red eyes cut your way, and the demon’s top lip curls in disgust. “This is a hell, yes.”

“A hell?”

“Mm,” he hums lightly in acknowledgement. “One of many.”

Many? Interesting. “Like the different circles?”

The demon sighs, his red eyes rolling in annoyance. “Whatever it is you think you may know, forget it. There are no ‘circles’, no pits—unless you count the sanguine pits, but you probably don’t want to go there,” his top teeth sink into his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes turning mischievous, “or maybe you do. Another day, perhaps. Anyway, this is the…Inferna is the best human word to use to describe it. But, you may call it home, considering that is exactly what it is now; your home.” He chuckles, but you think it’s a poor joke.

“Home. Okay, sure, very funny.” The sarcasm helps to bolster your mood a bit, knowing that you can still spit words with at least a little venom.

That’s all you’ve been able to think about since the understanding of what was happening dawned on you. The fear of not being able to think for yourself, that your free will and ability to think would be stripped from you, and you’d become nothing more than some mindless demon slut.

The fact you’re able to hold this conversation is promising. But you are curious. With the deal settled between this demon and Dominique, you feel like you’ve been put in an ambiguous limbo of sorts. Dominique’s deal included you, but as she said, it wasn’t your own deal.

So, do you even have a deal with this demon? But, before you can express your curiosity further, a loud knock echoes from the double doors on the other side of the sitting area that you hadn’t noticed before.

“This should be fun,” the demon says, and it almost seems like he’s…pouting? “Come in.”

The doors swing open on a blast of hot air. Clouds of grey-blue smoke curl through the space before dissipating and revealing what you can only describe as evil incarnate. At least, that’s the feeling you get, like happiness and joy can not exist in the presence of this being. Your energy immediately wanes, so much so that it makes your knees weak.

Pitch-colored eyes set in an angular face framed by thick, inky hair give way to taught lips drawn in a severe line. His body is hidden by the billowing folds of a robe that seems made of gossamer and iron, with its constant shifting in the room's ambient lighting.

A voice as deep as the darkest chasm in the ocean and just as cold hisses through the room. “What have we here? A pet?”

“Dark Lord,” the demon at your side says, bending at the waist and bowing deeply. He straightens, casting a quick glance in your direction. “A pleasant mistake is all, My Lord. A soul come to me by the blundering of a supposed friend.”

“More fiend than a friend, it seems, if the result is this.” A smirk curls the pale pink lips of the man—demon?—standing in the doorway.

You want to jump to Dominique’s defense and argue that she’s not the fiend here, but a scathing look from the male at your side silences anything you might have mustered in protest. The look on his face says opening your mouth is probably the last thing you want to do right now. Whoever this ‘Dark Lord’ is, even the demon laying claim to your soul is intimidated by him.

“Very well,” the newcomer says before sucking in a deep, drawing breath as if scenting the very air around him. “Yes, yes, I think she’ll do well. A strong spirit, but not so strong that she won’t break. Perhaps…you might find it in you to share.”

“Share?” The word is gritted out between clamped teeth, stilted and forced. “Of course, if that is what you desire.”

“Please, Jimin, I aim only to tease you,” the being chuckles, wafting a hand complete with blackened nails and spidery purple veins. The billowing robes bend and sway with the act, stirring long shadows along the walls to either side of the doors. “Keep the little mouse. Enjoy the luxury of a pure soul for once. You’ve earned it.”

With that, he turns to leave, vanishing in a swirl of grey that disappears as the doors swing closed once more. Even though he’s gone, there is one thing that he left behind. A word. Or more so, a name.

Jimin.

“So, Jimin, huh?”

A low growl rumbles from the demon before his ruby eyes slice your way. “You will not use that name.”

Despite your lack of belief in demons and all the abracadabra nonsense prior to this, you’ve read enough to know there can be power behind knowing a demon’s name. However, you’re not sure how much power there is. But you’re willing to find out.

“What’s the matter, Jimin—” you twist the name with emphasis, “—don’t like it when someone might have power over you, Jimin? It is a taste of your own medicine, perhaps, Jimin?”

You part your lips, tongue poised to continue your taunting tirade, but in a flash, a warm, rigid hand is clamped over your mouth. Fire burns in the deep recesses of Jimin’s eyes. It's not just a pseudo-flame trick of the light, either. Real flames dance within the blood-colored irises. They undulate and grow brighter with each rise and fall of his chest until you’re certain smoke is going to start pouring out of his ears at any moment.

“You know, I thought I quite enjoyed your fiery spirit. But now, I’m not so sure. Maybe just a little tweak, a little taste, and you’ll…be…just…right.” As he says the words, drawn out and slow, you feel a little tug in the center of your chest.

The feeling starts out light, barely a string’s caress between your breasts. But gradually, it turns into a thick line of yarn that you’d swear was slowly unraveling your soul the way it would from a skein. There is an ebbing clarity, a fleeting thought that this is something you’re certain you should be resisting.

But you can’t seem to tear yourself away from staring into those flaming depths. Simply a moth drawn to the flame, heedless of the blaze threatening to engulf you.

His body presses against yours, hard and hot in contrast to your soft and freezing. The fact your body is chilled right to the bone only registers now. The trembling starts at the tips of your fingers and toes before your entire body shudders against his. Yet, you still can’t will yourself to look away.

“W-what are y-yo…you do-doing to…to me?”

The words sound hollow to your ears, thin and thready, like a weak pulse compared to the hammering of your heart that’s forcing your blood to woosh with staccato punches. The edges of your vision darken, and you struggle to blink or look away, to do anything to break the fevered contact.

“Perfect,” Jimin purrs, the sound registering the second before whatever is holding you in place diminishes, and you slump forward. Strong arms cradle your body, an arm sliding under the backs of your knees to lift you bridal style. Whereas your eyes wouldn’t close before, they now refuse to open. The darkness, such a contrast to the fire you were captured by before, makes your eyes ache and water. You can feel the trails of your tears cut through your hairline and blend with the perspiration gathering there.

Hot and cold. Light and dark. It’s hard to tell up from down at this point—warring emotions, seemingly endless confusion. You feel like you’re floating weightless in an abyss, though distinctly aware of how your body curls against smooth silk covering warm flesh.

With a sigh, you find the strength to open your eyes, meeting those crimson rings once more. Except, this time, there is no fear…no confusion…only peace, deeply rooted and infinitely spread through every fiber of your being.

You can see yourself reflected in those endless, vermillion depths. And what you see is…different; still you…but different—hungrier, a feral tinge that you know should frighten you.

😈😈😈

Jimin

The taste of your soul still lingers in Jimin’s mouth, making saliva pool under his tongue. It was the tiniest taste, just a sampling of what’s to come. But, fuck, if it didn’t make his cock hard and his chest ache from the restraint he used to hold himself from draining you completely dry while sucking the marrow right from your bones.

You are quite possibly the most exquisite creature he has ever laid eyes on, much less had the pleasure of savoring. His anger at Yoongi is quickly dissipating, replaced by the erotic thrum of the call of your soul. It beckons him to drink more, to devour you completely.

Jimin didn’t want to do this so soon. He’d intended to drag this out as much as possible, playing a game with his own constraint to see how long he could withstand your allure. This is Yoongi’s fault. If the Dark Lord hadn’t come in here sniffing around things that were not his, letting things as precious as names slip, Jimin wouldn’t have been so forced to jump the gun.

He had little choice in it, he’s sure. If you had continued to twist his name with your perfect lips, you would have indeed begun to wield the power behind it. With each additional drop of his name, he felt the knot forming at the base of his spine. The one that triggers his survival instincts and forces his hand.

Perhaps it’s for the best, he thinks, as he effortlessly carts your limp body over to the bed and lays you out. Your head lolls from side to side, eyes fluttering as they adjust to what Jimin knows must be an unpleasant ache deep in your psyche. It might be millennia since he became forsaken, but the memory of how it felt has not diminished.

Not that he’s going to let that happen to you. As it is, he’s undecided on how this is going to play out in the end. He has a deal with your friend that you will remain unharmed, and sucking out your soul until you become a demon doesn’t necessarily harm you. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but all together, not exactly harmful. Well, not to you physically, at least. That’s not saying much for you emotionally…spiritually.

Dominique should have been more precise in her demands—unharmed can mean anything. Though, he knows there could be room for argument that he was being deceptive. He shrugs to himself. He’s a demon…it’s to be expected. Words hold all the power. They are Jimin’s preferred weapon of choice for a reason. It’s why he’s so good at what he does, why Yoongi bestowed the crossroads task upon him all those centuries ago. Yes, if your so-called friend had truly cared, she should have been far more specific in her request and should have read between the lines before offering her blood and sealing your fate.

Jimin looks down on you from beside the bed as you slowly regain your senses. He has to adjust himself in his trousers, his arousal growing with each barely audible mewl that whimpers from your lips. If he were a lesser demon, he might not be able to keep himself from pouncing in your weakened state. As much as Jimin likes to dominate, he’d be curious to see what comes naturally now that a part of you resides in him.

“Mmm,” you moan softly.

Your eyes slide closed once more before finally popping open, wide and full of clarity. They find his, and what Jimin sees there has his whole body going taut with anticipation. You look like a feral wolf about to spring on an unsuspecting rabbit, and Jimin just so happens to be said rabbit. If you keep looking at him that way, perhaps he won’t mind being the prey for once.

“Whoa,” Jimin chuckles as you lurch upright in the bed, swinging an arm wildly in his direction, fingers hooked into claws. “Give yourself a minute.”

There is a thick, sultriness to your voice that wasn’t there before as you say, “I…I feel—I want…what did you do to me?” You bring the hand you swung at him up in front of your face, flipping it from front to back again and again as if somehow you’ll be able to physically see the change in yourself.

“Only what I’m entitled to.”

Your eyes snap to his, sharp and calculating. He’s intentionally cryptic, but he knows you can see straight through his deliberately obtuse response.

“Entitled to? The deal was for you not to harm me!” you snarl, teeth barred in his direction. Jimin decides it’s a cute look on you, like a stray kitten gearing up for a hissing match. Too bad for you, Jimin’s trained in the prowess of being a lion.

“You are unharmed,” he snaps back, eyes flashing.

You cringe, and Jimin almost wants to take it back. But that won’t do. No, not for what he has planned for you. As appealing as your defiance is…no, Jimin needs this far too much.

He realizes just how hungry he is.

Absolutely, ravenous. And he knows exactly what he wants to satiate the ache.

You mutter something under your breath, and if Jimin didn’t have the super hearing of a demon, he’d surely miss it. “Why am I so gods damned horny? Now is not the time to be jonesing for a joyride on a monster dick.”

“I think now is precisely the time to be, as you say, ‘jonesing for a joyride on a monster dick’.”

The surprise on your face is second only to the way your heart lurches in your chest, so intense that Jimin can distinctly hear the upbeat roar it launches into at his words. Both make Jimin feel powerful, in vastly different ways. Your lips form an enticing tiny opening as you gape at him, and the blood rushing through your body notches up the pulsing thrum he knows you can feel spiking through your clit now. The mere notion of riding a dick has your body primed and aching already.

“What did you say?”

“I merely repeated what you said. I don’t typically fuck on the first date, but seeing as how this isn’t a usual first…I think I can make an exception.”

In fact, Jimin is almost sure that if he doesn’t find himself in one of your holes in the next five minutes, he might make a fool of himself, similar to something a teenage human boy might experience. Typically, he doesn’t get to enjoy the tender confines of a human, not unless it’s part of the demon deal they make—which, thanks to the influx of paranormal romance stories out there, has increased somewhat in the last handful of decades.

The tip of your tongue pokes out and absently moves over the roundness of your bottom lip. “I don’t know if I understand what you’re saying.”

That’s cute; you trying to play it off like Jimin’s proclamation didn’t just create a wave pool in your panties. He can smell it, the light, tangy scent of your arousal. It blooms in the air as you shift to your knees on the bed; you’re unknowingly filling Jimin’s lungs with the smell of your dripping cunt.

He takes a deep, appreciative breath and allows a moment of tense silence to hang in the air between you. The thread snaps, thin as gauze. You’re on him in the next instant, one hand fisting in his hair and the other ripping at the buttons on his shirt. Your knees slide over the silk of the duvet as you simultaneously pull Jimin until his thighs knock the side of the bed and your front is pressed to his.

“Take your clothes off,” Jimin states, and you immediately stop your frantic groping of him and begin to shed your own clothes. “Bare yourself to me.” Jimin’s top lip quivers as his mouth forms around the commands, power bubbling in his veins as the small piece of you burns his insides; pain-laced pleasure threads through his every fiber, and he wants more.

Jimin follows your movements, watching as you strip off your long-sleeved shirt, tossing it aimlessly to the side before doing the same with your bra. You roll back onto your ass and kick your legs out in front of you across the bed and tear at the zipper and button on your jeans. It’s cute, the way you snarl and hiss at the offending denim as you wrestle it, along with your panties, down your legs. You finally kick free of them and, in the process, send a cloud of your heady arousal right into Jimin’s nose.

It’s enough to make him feral. The moment your last article of clothing falls to the floor, you splay yourself back on the bed, knees wide and arms extending above your head. Like a present, freshly unwrapped, and his to play with. Your hooded gaze meets his, like a challenge daring him to let his eyes drink their fill; and, oh boy, do they.

You are utterly divine. Jimin wants nothing more than to lick and kiss every inch of your striking skin, starting with the tender flesh behind your ear and ending with the points of your toes, mapping out your body like the temple that it is. Your nipples are tight peaks straining toward the ceiling, and your pussy lips are already slick and swollen with want; you paint the picture of perfect sexual carnality.

Jimin watches as your mouth tries to form his name. When it doesn’t come, a line forms between your brows, and you manage to gruff out a different word instead, “Demon.” It’s nowhere near as seductive as his name, but he’ll consider it a term of endearment all the same.

He chuckles, gripping your ankles and using a flex of strength to flip you around and position you on the bed just how he wants you. Your head hangs off the edge, hands raising in surprise to brace on his hips. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, your breathing so harsh he can feel the thick exhale of your breath through the linen of his trousers.

“I’ll show you ‘demon’,” Jimin purrs seductively.

The button on his pants pops under his thumb, and the zipper slides down swiftly. Before Jimin can push them down, you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants and shoving them down. It’s an awkward angle for you; with your arms bent how they are, you only get them down his thighs. But, it’s enough. With a sway of his hips, Jimin gets his pants to drop to around his ankles.

He could use his power to disrobe instantly, but he finds this far more entertaining. Jimin revels in the slack-jawed look on your face as you take in his rigid length protruding in front of your face. The piercing in the tip glints in the ambient light, the first pearly string of his arousal already beaded and webbing along the silver ring.

Placing a thumb against your bottom lip, Jimin gently pries your jaw open until you’re stretched wide enough he can tease the tip of his cock inside. Your chest convulses, nostrils flaring as you continue to suck in greedy breaths through your nose, considering your mouth is growing fuller by the second as he continues to feed himself into the hot, wet confines. Using twin fistfuls of your violet hair, he holds you steady.

You swallow around him, the contracting of your throat sending tingles down Jimin’s spine and making his balls draw up as his whole body shudders. His control slips the tiniest bit, siphoning a sliver of your soul. It slams into him, causing him to jerk forward and drive even further into your throat, cutting off your air.

“Fuck!” Jimin roars, his eyes squeezing shut as he denies his body the release that nearly swept him away. This can’t be over yet; he’s just getting started.

😈😈😈

You gag, effectively choking on his cock as his pelvis presses flush against your chin, and you can feel his heavy balls crowd in close to your nose. There was a moment there, where you felt connected to him in a way that should scare you, but a different kind of fear quickly replaced that feeling. Panic looms heavy in your chest as your lungs protest the lack of air, but you can’t bring yourself to shove Jimin away.

It’s infuriating to be able to think his name but not be able to utter it aloud. “F-fuck you,” you rasp when he finally withdraws. Saliva strings from your parted lips to the glistening head and shaft of his cock, the tip heavily leaking pearlescent drops that mix with the glossy strands. His cloying taste lingers, and you want nothing more than to stretch your neck up and scoop those milky beads away with your tongue.

Every second since Jimin did whatever he did to you, you’ve barely had a hold on your desire to burrow into him, get beneath his skin, and pick away at his insides until you figure out how he ticks. You want to be inside of him and have him inside of you, anything to diminish what feels like a miles-deep trench between the two of you.

You’ve never felt such a visceral desire to fuck. It’s not that you’re a prude; if anything, you would consider yourself to have a healthy sexual appetite. However, this is different. This is you wholly and utterly wrecked, wanting Jimin in all possible ways.

“Oh, I plan to. But first—” Jimin teases, a wicked grin curling his plush lips. He forces you to watch upside down as he finishes disrobing. With each additional inch of flawless porcelain flesh he reveals, you grow wetter until you’re a whimpering, slick mess staring at his naked body, “—you’re going to choke on my cock some more while I taste that pussy.”

Jimin’s dirty words are like gasoline in your veins, and his hands slapping against the insides of your thighs to pry them open is the match. Heat boils beneath your skin, sweat beads and pools between your breasts, and glides down the slope of your neck to tickle your hairline.

Your mouth is open, and your tongue sticks out flat in welcome as Jimin juts his hips forward. The thick length of his cock slides past your lips, velvety smooth and tasting faintly of hot metal. His body molds along the front of yours, slick chest resting against your stomach.

The warm fan of his breath hits a second before the molten lick of his tongue slides from your clit to the cleft of your ass, his hands gripping the meat on the back of your thighs to raise your hips. Your scream at that initial contact is muffled by the thickness of his cock in your throat. Jimin buries himself in your esophagus, pistoning his hips in and out so relentlessly that you only manage tiny gasping breaths.

He doesn’t let up, pounding into your mouth with manic abandon. You have to brace your hands against his thighs, fingers digging into the muscles and nails leaving deep, crescent divots in the flesh. Sensations assault you from both ends as Jimin buries his face between your thighs.

Jimin feasts like a man—demon—starved. His tongue swirls, slides, and dips in intervals between his lips sucking and teeth dragging. Pleasure builds, starting at the base of your spine and moving up until even your tongue writhing on the underside of Jimin’s cock feels like a direct line to your clit.

“Mmf–uh!” you garble a moan that ramps into a shriek as your orgasm barrels through you.

“That’s right,” Jimin murmurs into the wet folds of your pussy, “cum all over my face and tongue, just like that.” He continues to lap at you, suckling and humming his delight.

He grunts and moans a litany of guttural words you can’t understand before emptying himself down your throat. Hips stuttering against your face, he throbs in your mouth, his piercing sliding along the roof of your mouth as he begins to pull out.

You lick your numb lips and work your aching jaw when Jimin fully withdraws from your mouth, but not before gripping the base of his swollen cock and tapping it against your tongue a few times, smearing his still-leaking arousal across your lips. You know you should feel mildly degraded, being used as a proverbial cum rag, but if anything, it turns you on even more.

“Fuck.” The word comes out like a whimper, your body clenching in the aftermath of one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

Jimin chuckles, “I’m getting to that part.”

“What are you doing to me?” you ask breathlessly. It’s not a question you expect an answer to, more a rhetorical musing that drifts from your muddled brain. So, it surprises you when Jimin steps back and cradles your upside-down face between his hands, lifting your face until it’s inches from his.

His scarlet eyes have taken on a golden ring around the edges. They pulse in tandem with each of his breaths. “I’ve laid claim to you is what I’ve done. And before you even think about spouting off about the deal, being that you are to remain unharmed, you are. You can feel it, you know I’m speaking the truth. My claim on your soul has nothing to do with your well-being. If anything, you are now stronger and more resilient than you’ve ever been before.”

He’s right. You can feel it in your bones. Not just their additional strength but the way your muscles cling to them, and you’re sure they would neither snap nor tear no matter how far you bend them. You are no longer the delicate mortal you once were. And you’re not sure if you care, either.

If anything, the strength is addicting.

You. Want. More.

“More,” you tell Jimin. “I need more. Please.”

You’re pretty sure you would do anything at this point for another taste, another dose of whatever this is that’s now zinging beneath your skin. Jimin drops his hold on your face and stretches his arms in the air above his head, lithe body stretching in all its glory before you.

It’s rapturous watching the way his body moves. Wanting to see the vision of him properly, you roll over and push up onto your knees. Jimin slowly brings his arms back down, threading his fingers together in front of him and pushing his palms out. The distinct crack of his knuckles sends chills down your spine.

A predatory glint catches in his eyes, eliciting another visceral response from your body, this one of desire. Not caring how desperate you seem, you once again throw yourself at him, hands gripping and tugging until you’ve wrestled him on top of you on the bed. He lands in the valley between your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him, holding him in place.

“Tell me your name,” Jimin whispers in command, lips brushing over yours.

It forms on the tip of your tongue, your impulse to give him exactly what he wants. But, perhaps you’re not as far gone as you thought because you are able to resist this. Slowly, you shake your head, and a sly grin forms on your face.

“No.”

Jimin’s brow pinches and his top lip curls in what you’ve realized is a tell, indicating that his patience is thinning. You roll your hips against his, thrilled by how the action makes the line between his brows disappear, and his lips pop open with a soft grunt.

“You’re not the only one that’s clever here, Demon. If I can’t use your name, you won’t have mine.”

You can see the challenge in his eyes, the pure delight at the prospect of the battle ahead. “So be it, little mouse, but be warned: you’ll break long before I do.”

His mouth covers yours, silencing any protest you might have made to his statement. The vehement denial turns fleeting the instant his tongue presses between your lips and invades your mouth.

The tangy taste of your own arousal mixes with the intoxicating natural heat of the demon himself. He tastes like blood and ash but also like a crisp drink of water after days in the desert, both your salvation and your demise.

“Ah!” you yelp as Jimin fists a hand into your hair and cranes your head back, breaking the kiss and exposing the length of your neck to him.

“Pay close attention, pet. You don’t want to miss a second of this.” His words are murmured, so soft against your skin as he says them between open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.

With every press of his mouth, his hips swivel in lazy circles that rub the thick shaft of his desire over your clit. It’s just enough pressure to drive you mad but not nearly enough to give you what you truly want.

Jimin takes first one nipple and then the other into the wet lock of his lips, lashing the pert tip with his tongue. The hand that was tugging your hair loosens, sliding down the side of your face before clasping around your neck like a five-fingered necklace.

You can feel the moment he begins to squeeze with his fingers and thumb, as they are so precisely placed on either side of your neck that they press against your jugulars. It creates a subtle pounding in your head, a lightheadedness that makes you hyper-aware of the way his teeth scrape over the tender flesh of your right breast before lightly piercing the skin.

A moan comes out in place of a scream as your body gives in to the depraved pleasure. This shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but it’s like Jimin is turning your entire body into one giant, throbbing erogenous zone. Pain is no longer something your body tries to pull away from. Instead, you find yourself arching your back so the points of his teeth pierce your flesh once more.

“F-fuck!” 

You can feel the heat of your blood pooling between your breasts for a moment before Jimin is lapping it up the same way he was licking at your pussy just moments ago. The sharp scent of hot copper punches the air when Jimin lifts his face and laughs, the sound dark and gravelly.

Peering down the slope of your nose the best you can, you catch a glimpse of his face before he dives back down to once again ravish the tight buds of your nipples. But that one glimpse is enough to paint a vivid picture of Jimin bathed in your blood, red eyes ringed in black, crimson smeared at the corners of his mouth, coating the tips of his teeth as he opened his mouth to laugh.

It does something to you, something primal and instinctive. Your body goes limp under him as your muscles coil before you snap. You throw your weight into him, shoving up with your hips and using the hold you have with your legs wrapped around him to your advantage. One moment, Jimin is buried between the mounds of your breasts, feasting on the tiny rivulets of crimson from his bites, and the next, he’s beneath you with a pleasant surprise on his bloody face.

“Look at you,” Jimin croons, his hands landing firmly on your hips. Using his hold, he undulates your hips, forcing the wet slit of your cunt to rub along the length of his dick, the ring in the tip catching on the hood of your clit with every pass. “You’re making a mess all over my cock.”

Bracing yourself on his chest, you let his hands encourage your hips with ease, luxuriating in the silky glide between your thighs. You’re relatively certain with just a few more minutes of this, and you could get yourself off, Jimin’s own pleasure be damned. But, it seems he picks up on that, and with a scoff, he uses his grip on your hips to force your body still.

“Don’t be an asshole!” you whine, digging your nails into the muscles of his chest. His dusky nipples stand out, and without thinking about it, you lean down and capture one between your teeth the same way he did yours. The skin pulls tight, and you love the sharp sound Jimin makes; something between a moan and a grunt.

A fist buries in your hair, and your head snaps back as Jimin wrenches you up, your teeth snicking free from his nipple. Black blood oozes from around the small rip in the bud, filling the hollow between his pecs and the notch at the base of his throat. The wound closes right before your eyes, sealing closed almost instantly. “Look at this mess. Clean it up,” Jimin growls low in his throat, the words barely above a whisper.

You immediately stick out your tongue, and with the grip on the back of your head, Jimin guides your mouth down to his chest. His blood is hot and thick, tasting strongly of rich spices, like the fiery notes of a mulled wine. You feel unhinged, so completely removed from who you were before Dom buried that little box in the woods. Maybe it’s delirium, and you’ve snapped, or perhaps this is just who you’ve always been…whatever it is, you can’t seem to stop.

Lips swollen and covered in demon blood, you leave a trail of macabre kisses up the length of Jimin’s neck before covering your mouth with his once again. The mix of your blood and his is heady and addicting, the perfect match of iron and spice.

“Why can’t I stop?” you whisper against Jimin’s lips, not giving him time to answer before you’re licking into his mouth again. “Why don’t I want to stop?”

😈😈😈

Jimin

You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to stop. It’s never been like this for Jimin before. He’s never once experienced something so raw and carnal. He is wholly and utterly fucked. Or, well, he will be in just…one…moment.

“Be a good girl and give us what we both want,” he commands you, using his grip on your hair to pull your lips off of his. “Ride my cock, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Jimin watches as you rear up, head cocked back because of his continued grip on your hair, reach between your thighs, and wrap your fingers around his rigid length. You stroke your hand up, thumb toying with the ring there, before sliding down. Continuing, you work your hand from root to tip a few more times until Jimin is sure he might explode.

The command to stop fucking around and start fucking him is on the tip of his tongue when you finally comply. You take him in one swift plummet, impaling yourself on his cock with a strangled cry that echoes through the room.

Cracks form in the dried blood around Jimin’s mouth. He can feel it pull and tug as his lips part with a groan. Your body moves over his, hips and tits bouncing. Loosening his hand in your hair, he slides it down at the same time he brings his other up. You fit perfectly in his hands, and the soft mounds of your breasts mold around his fingers as he squeezes them appreciatively.

“I can f-feel you so deep.” You’re mewling, panting and whining, the sounds a symphony of eroticism and pleasure to Jimin’s ears.

The bite marks on your chest have stopped bleeding, but Jimin still appreciates the way the dried crimson smears of his feasting look under his hands. Everything about your body drives him crazy and turns him into a barely-restrained animal.

The only reason he hasn’t shoved you face down on the bed and rutted you like a beast is because he wants to enjoy you a little bit longer before completely destroying you. He knows he would lose control of his abilities, gobbling down the rest of your soul in one gulp.

“Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly,” he grunts, digging his heels in and flexing his hips up as you drop down, forcing himself even deeper. You keen, increasing your pace as he continues to meet you stroke for stroke. Slipping his hands down, one latches on your hip, and the other presses to your lower belly, thumb finding your clit and swirling in precise circles.

“I, uh, fuck! I’m going to—”

The cresting of your orgasm cuts off your words. Your body shudders with the release, walls intensely contracting around his cock. Warmth floods Jimin’s body. He can feel every pulse of your body as if it’s begging for a reward.

Keeping his hold on you, he redoubles his effort, pistoning his hips into you at a manic pace. His thumb continues its assault on your clit, earning him delightful whimpers and moans from you.

“Give me another one. Fuck!” he grunts. Tears streak down your cheeks at the overstimulation, but your body gives him exactly what he wants by clamping down on his cock with your next orgasm.

Jimin can feel the way his tip pulses and his shaft grows engorged before his body succumbs to the pleasure, and he explodes, filling you so completely that torrents of cum leak from around his cock and string across his pelvis and your thighs.

The release rips his control to shreds and before Jimin can stop himself, he’s taking another hefty draft of your soul. It settles along the fibers of his being, coating his insides as thoroughly as he just coated yours.

There is no regret or remorse for the accidental slip. Jimin luxuriates in the euphoric aftermath. Post-soul sucking is nearly as good as post-orgasm, and he just so happened to experience both in the span of mere seconds. Reaching with one of his hands, he scoops a thick drop of cum up with his finger and lifts it to your mouth.

You don’t hesitate, wrapping your tongue around the offered digit. The moan you release is soft and sweet. Jimin drags you down, capturing your mouth once more in a devouring kiss.

He’s wholly and utterly satiated…for now.

He only hopes you’ll be as amiable to his new revelation because he’s finally made up his mind. Jimin plans to keep you…no matter what he has to do, no matter the words he’ll have to twist or who he will need to manipulate.

You will be his…

Forever.

😈😈😈

You try to resist Jimin as the weeks pass by, but your resolve is as formidable as wet paper. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve had him inside of you—welcomed him within the confines of your body and subsequently fed him slivers of your soul.

After a while, you begin to seek it out…hungry for his touch or rousing him with your lips around his cock, swallowing whatever he’ll give you. It’s unclear where the line was or when you crossed it, but here you are…lost in some in-between limbo.

You roll over, shoving away from Jimin’s naked body, and slide off the bed, his taste still clinging to your tongue. You’re still feeling the aftereffects of whatever just happened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t sex. At least, not regular sex. It was something…just something else.

Each time, it feels like a whole new experience. He shows you something you never thought possible and has you so wrung out you forget to question it. You can still feel him inside you, not just the phantom girth of his cock, but somewhere deeper. It’s like he’s permanently etched onto your bones now. As weird as that sounds, it’s exactly how it feels.

Crossing the expanse of his room, you stare at yourself in the mirror above an ornate chaise. You prod a finger beneath your eye, pulling the bottom lid down. No matter how much you poke and rub, the distinct red ring circling your pupil doesn’t go away.

From what little Jimin has told you over the weeks about what’s happening, you understand that you’re now a few pieces of your soul lighter. He assured you that you’re unharmed and as long as things go well, then when the deal with Dominique is complete, your soul will be restored…if you want it to be. Those were his exact—cryptic—words.

If you want it to be?

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, not for the first time.

Jimin shrugs, not having to ask you what you mean because somehow he has this innate ability to just know what’s on your mind. His nonchalance as he lounges against a mound of pillows on the bed grates. He’s acting like a cat that’s gotten the cream…and you suppose, maybe he has.

“It means exactly what it means.”

Dropping your hand from your face, you turn and bracket your bare hips with your hands, eyes narrowing in his direction. His answers are nonanswers, and no matter how much you try to muster anger at him over it…it doesn’t come.

You’re frustrated, yes. But anger isn’t something you’re able to grasp right now for some reason, and that should make you even more angry…yet, it’s as if you’re incapable of mustering one ounce of vitriol.

“Why can’t I get mad at you?” you ask instead of pressing your previous question, hoping maybe he’ll afford you some semblance of an acceptable answer.

Jimin laughs softly. “Because you don’t want to. And before you open that pretty mouth of yours to tell me differently…think really hard about it, and you’ll see that I am right. You love being here. Dare I say you might even love me.”

Now you’re the one laughing, though it’s a bit more hollow than you intend. “That’s absurd.” You taste the lie on your tongue as soon as you say it. “Go to hell,” you mutter under your breath.

“Already here, sweetheart.” Jimin slinks off the bed, very reminiscent of the way a serpent moves, all smooth lines and sinuous fluidity. “You’ll find some new clothes in the chifferobe. Get dressed unless you want to go to your little rendezvous like that.” His eyes sweep your naked body, and you can feel the intensity at which they smolder.

To avoid potentially missing your meet up with Dom, you rip your gaze from his and approach the aforementioned wardrobe. Within, you find an entire arsenal of clothes, all in your sizes. That’s one thing you’ve grown to really enjoy: the pure magic of the endless possibilities. You can have anything you want as long as it doesn’t go against Jimin’s wants and desires.

 You may have put on a fashion show or two at the expense of Jimin’s powers. With a simple snap of his fingers, he'd manifest it for you no matter how ridiculous the garment. It’s helped to pass the time. Between the endless fucking and having nothing better to do, well…

It’s been a month since that fateful night with your best friend at the crossroads. A lot can happen in a month. A lot that you’d never have expected. The muttered assurances and pleas you made to one another before you left with Jimin linger in your mind. Her promise to find a way to free you, your unfailing belief and assurance that she would and could do it.

And now? Well, now…you’re not so sure. Should you want to escape your ten-year fate? Probably. Do you? The jury is still out. There is one thing you do know, though. Every day you spend here with Jimin is one more day you get to enjoy the power and grace of whatever connection there is between you. You get to lose yourself in the contours and planes of his impossibly immaculate body; whether it’s human or not, you’ve decided you don’t really care because it just feels too fucking good.

The red ring in your eyes is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of it all. Your fingers flick over some of the newer garments, taking in the sleek feel of silk and the soft brush of leather. Everything in here exudes sex. Something you might have once been embarrassed by, but not now.

Grabbing an off-the-shoulder emerald silk top, you pair it with a simple pair of black jeans. The thick-soled Docs you wore the night of the deal go on after you pull on a pair of socks. The lilac of your hair has remained despite the numerous times you’ve washed it over the last month. Jimin just chuckled and fingered a lock of your hair when you asked him about it, saying something about how much he likes the color on you.

You’ve chalked it up to a flex of his power. After the first week of oddities, you stopped questioning it. The bathing chamber connected to his room offers a variety of luxury products, none of them ever seem to run out. Jimin enjoys soaking in a bath, something you’ve done with him more than a handful of times after a rough but fun session. Sessions such as dirtying up his sheets—which are always pristine and clean once more with just a flick of his wrist.

That little taste of power may make you no longer eager to escape your situation. Who you were before, the responsibilities you held, the people in your life…they all seem like a dream now, hazy and unclear. With the exception of Dominique, of course.

You’re excited to see your friend, but that’s about as far as your enthusiasm goes. Sighing, you turn to face Jimin. Who, in the span of however long it took you to get ready, has cleaned the entire room and dressed himself in a suit similar to the one he wore the night you met him.

His black hair is mussed in a way that looks sexy, tendrils falling from the coif to frame his ruby-colored eyes. Eyes that you have lost yourself in countless times and that are starting to mirror your own. You watch as a cherry lollipop appears in his hand, the wrapper already gone. It shouldn’t be so seductive, the way he using his tongue to seat the candy past his teeth. But you’re desperately turned on by the display.

“Fuck you,” you gruff, knowing he’ll deny you if you proposition him for a quickie before the meeting because it’s never just a quickie with Jimin. No, he turns anything into a full-blown, hour-long experience. Not that you’re complaining.

“Don’t pout…or do. I like the way it makes your lips poke out.” Jimin gestures toward you with the lollipop. “I’ll make it up to you when we return, little mouse. Promise.” He pops the stick into his mouth once more and then holds out his hand to you, one eyebrow raising in silent command.

It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, sliding through the space between Jimin’s world and the other—the one you used to call home. Used to? You’re not sure when that became the distinction.

The moment your feet find the solid ground of the crossroads clearing, you anticipate a forlorn feeling or for an intense desire for salvation to slam into you. Only, it doesn’t come. But maybe seeing Dominique will be the key; unlock the floodgates or something.

She appears a few minutes later. The sound of her boots crunching through the underbrush draws your eyes to the two trees across the clearing through which you followed her just a month ago.

Dominique yells your name before breaking out into a run. Jimin squeezes your fingers where his hand is still wrapped around yours. In all the time you’ve been with him, you still haven’t given him your name. But, now…he knows.

Irritation colors your insides. You snatch your hand from his, earning a soft chuckle from him, and try to plaster on a smile as Dom closes the distance and throws her arms around your neck.

“Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods,” she chants, voice on the verge of hysterics. “Let me,” she begs, her hands sliding to your shoulders so she can hold you at arm's length. Her eyes sweep you from head to toe, clearly checking to make sure you’re unharmed.

“Not a hair out of place, I believe, is what you said,” Jimin says coyly. “Even the color is the same.”

Dominique ignores him, keeping her focus on you. “Your eyes,” she whispers. “What happened to your eyes?”

“Side effect of my time there.” You shrug. “I’m okay, Dom, really.”

When you were first taken, that would have felt like a lie. Now, however, it’s so far from that. You are okay—more than. You glance at Jimin over your shoulder, trying to gauge whether or not he’s listening. He’s absently twirling the lollipop's stick and humming softly, seemingly wholly tuned out.

Still, you let Dominique pull you further away. She pitches her voice low, pulling you in for another hug to disguise the fact she pushes her mouth close to your ear and whispers, “I’ve figured it out. Grann knows a way we can entrap the demon. All I need is his true name. Do you know it?”

You’ve been able to say it for the last two weeks now since Jimin lifted the demand for you not to use it, but for some reason, you don’t want to tell her, so it doesn’t feel like a betrayal. You subtly shake your head. “Sorry.”

“Fuck. Okay. I know you didn't ask for this, but you're handling this better than I thought you would. I mean, I was prepared for something like this for me, but you had no idea what would happen. Not that I think you’re handling it better than I would…I just, yeah, I’m glad you’re alive.”

Dominique pulls back a little so she can look into your eyes but still remain close. The skin around her eyes is darker, her hair a bit disheveled and the purple strands completely faded and washed out. She looks tired, exhausted, really. But what she just said sparks something in you, tickles a niggling you had in the back of your mind from a month ago that resurfaces now. She was prepared for something like this for herself? Interesting. Before you can think further on the matter, Dom sighs heavily, and your attention draws back to her tired expression.

You pause for a beat, waiting for the concern and love for your friend to come crashing down on you. Much like your anger, it doesn’t so much as tickle through your mind. If anything, you’re feeling restless and eager to finish up this meeting and return to Jimin’s quarters in the Obsidian Fortress. Quarters that, you realize now, feel more like home than Dominique’s arms do.

“Maybe I can try, though. For next time.” You try to offer her somewhat of a reassuring smile, but you’re not sure it lands. Her eyes flick over your face, searching…for what, you’re unsure. Whatever she finds there, though, must satisfy her enough that she nods.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you, too, Dom. You need to take care of yourself. Can’t rescue me if you can barely keep your feet.”

😈😈😈

Jimin

“...rescue me…”

Jimin admits he was barely paying attention. His own fault, really. But those two words ring in his ears as if you’d shouted them for the entire world to hear. He had really thought you were coming around, enjoying your time with him.

But this? You’re still maintaining some sort of fantasy where your little witchy friend comes to your rescue? Oh, that makes Jimin’s blood boil. How dare you. He’s done nothing but satisfy your every gods damned need and desire.

His plan for forever jumps right to the forefront of his mind. Apparently, he can’t continue to dawdle over this. It’s time to make his move, consequences be damned.

Jimin watches as you giggle and chat with your friend, completely unaware of the fury brewing a few feet away from you. He hopes you’re enjoying yourself because this will be the last time you ever do this again.

The hour drags by. But, when it’s finally time to say goodbye, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. If he hadn’t overheard the little bit of your conversation earlier, he’d almost think you were coming to him willingly—eager, even.

After the fifth time Jimin tasted your soul, he found it hard to read you. Your mind was closed to him; otherwise, he would shove right in and scour it for any morsel of information. Clearly, he’s coddled you too much. So unbecoming of a demon, and there’s only one way he can think to rectify his folly and move forward with his plan all at once…one way—or demon, more precisely—that can give him what he wants; the deal with Dominique be damned.

😈😈😈

It feels right, sliding your hand into Jimin’s. You give Dominique one final, half-hearted wave, and then your breath is stolen by the sensation of falling. It sweeps through your belly, and when you blink, you expect to see Jimin’s lavish room, but instead, you’re somewhere else, somewhere colder and more bleak.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Jimin, what a pleasant surprise,” comes a dark, familiar voice behind you. Chills cascade down your spine, replacing the confusion from seconds before. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jimin tightens his grip on your hand and turns, pulling you with him to face the same being from the first day you were brought to this realm. “I have a favor to ask.”

Coal-black eyes meet yours, and they widen in surprised delight. “My, my, Jimin, you’ve been busy, haven’t you? And yet, her soul is still mostly intact. Restraint and commitment, I’m impressed. What’s the favor?”

“I want to keep her.”

“Keep me?” you ask, startled by this revelation. 

Ignoring you, Jimin continues, “Forever. Dissolve my deal, make her mine in all ways.”

“Interesting,” the dark figure coos. “So very interesting.” With a swirl of dark fabric and smoke, he’s standing before you, so close you can see the purple-black pallor around his eyes and the fine points of his teeth as he smiles. “Mm, I’m intrigued. What’s brought about this request?”

Jimin opens his mouth but closes it again before clearing his throat and tightening his grip on your hand. “I’ve taken a liking to…her.”

“More than a liking, it seems,” Dark Lord chuckles. “Though, it doesn’t seem like you really need my interference. She seems willing enough.”

“What?” Jimin asks, finally looking at you for the first time since pulling you here. “But, I heard—”

“What she wanted the human to hear.”

A long, pale finger hooks under your chin and angles your head, tilting your face from side to side. “Yes, quite willing. Isn’t that so, kitten? Ah-ah, don’t lie to us.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“If she’s a willing soul, then there is no need for protection. By that account, the deal is void,” he continues, slowly examining your face. “All you need to do is take it all…every drop of her willing soul.”

Without responding, Jimin whisks you away. You suddenly find yourself standing in the middle of Jimin’s room, with him standing right in front of you and his eyes boring into yours so intently.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask.

Jimin gathers you against his chest, arms banding around your waist. “Tell me he’s right.”

“He’s right, Jimin. I’m willing. I-I don’t know…what happened, or when…maybe you’ve manipulated me somehow, and this is all your doing—but, fuck, somehow he’s right.”

His reply is hesitant, uncertain, “You want to be with me?”

Instead of reassuring him once again, you turn the question back on him. “Only if you want to be with me. Tell me I’m more than just part of a demon deal, that I’m not some coveted prize that you’re going to toss away in ten years.”

“No, no, I’d never do that. Even if I had to force you, I’d have never let you go.” At least he has the sense to look sheepish at admitting he’d use force if necessary.

“Wouldn’t that have hurt you somehow, breaking the deal?” Worry creases your brow, even at the mere thought.

Jimin shrugs, pulling you impossibly closer. His warm breath fans over your face as he says, “What’s a few years of punishment in the sanguine pits for breaking a deal compared to an eternity with you?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at the crazy turn of events. “So, what now?” you ask, voice a little shaky at the sudden prospect of what he might say.

“Say it again,” he requests, breathy and fervent in his need to hear it once more, just to be sure.

It comes naturally now, saying precisely what you want.

“I’m willing.”

Jimin responds by cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours. You recognize it the instant he starts to sip from your soul. With deep, long swallows, Jimin pulls at that little place inside you…and you let him.

You open yourself to him, accepting this as your fate. Maybe he truly did manipulate you and took away your free will all those weeks ago, but right now, in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. Because it feels right…this feels right.

“Sweet, sweet soul,” Jimin murmurs against your mouth. He’s greedy, tongue and lips working as he continues to taste you through the last few drops. “You’re now mine forever, little mouse.”

With eyes of vermillion and honey, you come alive…perhaps for the first time in your life.

All because your friend buried a box.

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-06-29 ColorMePurplex2

[silkhy-john]

Basically building drafts for the Priest!AU planted in my head by… Bread? Bvckbiter? Can’t remember at this point lol, ANYWAY.

Yeah!

So one of the clergy serving the Catholic community of whatever small-town Ethan has found himself in is Sr Margaret (an OC) and basically one day Ethan speaks to her, in semi-vague detail, about the Titan Army and the 2nd Titanomachy and specifically Luke, and… basically explaining his relationship with/to pagan gods and what some of his struggles with fully devoting himself to serving the community for God’s glory first (because the problem has never been fully devoting himself to serving a/the community—it’s doing it with the sole intention of glorifying God’s name as is expected of him, first as a Catholic then as a Catholic priest ie the divine purpose of work and vocation) and Sr Margaret tells him “Maybe your struggle comes from the fact that this Luke fellow seems to have been a Christ-like figure to you” and it clicks for Ethan in that moment

Other notes include:

- Luke is now Lukronos, a sort of failed Apotheosis where they aren’t really one or the other but just… a result of that disaster. Lukronos is interested in possessing Ethan, and he makes sure Ethan knows it. Ethan is very open to his advances in the dead of the night, but he acts like Lukronos doesn’t exist in the daylight (excuse to write smut)

- Mr Nakamura was ALSO a priest and ALSO struggled with being called away from his vocation by pagan gods (how he and Nemesis got Ethan and how he ultimately left behind his priestly vows) Mr Nakamura’s dad was ALSO a priest and ALSO struggled with being called away from his vocation by pagan gods (TBD further) — importantly, Sr Margaret has lived to see three generations of Nakamura’s serve as priests and do their best to not be catnip to the cats that are the Greek pantheon

- Alabaster is there! His story is a bit more… wooh! Anyway I’d have to reread his canon stuff to prep appropriately, but basically he finds a home in Ethan’s church. Also a LOT of divergence from canon for him.

- Nico is there too! He’s known as a demon hunter to the people of the small town. Mayhaps Nicobaster.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Masterlist

"Masterlist? What is that?"

"it's mostly a record of the writings here, feel welcome to have a look and see if something catches your eye" she turns around and points to the the book detailing where every book or pages should

"last time I updated it was june 21, so it can get a bit behind but usually everything is in here"

"a magical land where people are able to handle elements as they please, a bit too fantastical for my liking but she seems to enjoy writing them"

Tokyo debunker

There is a separate section for this subject, best visit it for the list.

Genshin impact

There is a folder on the table and named with perfect cursive handwriting "Holy offsprings". It seems it's a collection of small works

A bouquet of feelings

Sometimes actions have unexpected consequences. Good thing Aether knows how to fix this one.

Ancient language au

A long forgotten tongue slips away from their lips to the ears of people who believe it's their god's language

Read my lips

"to suddenly be left in a world where I couldn't read anything... Such a torture"

Universal language

After alhaitham found your ability you were almost forced to work for the academia translating works, some misunderstandings arise

Great sage au

A foreign face settles as a country's sage and tries to help, even when it isn't all that easy

Prologue

As a former player the new great sage had a nice base of knowledge to stand on plus some new tools

Such a backstabber

His duty with sumeru has gotten him into a trail leading to you and believes you to be a danger. For some reason the proof he has reminds you of something… wait a minute.

Over tea

Luckily after cyno recognized them as not guilty they were allowed to return to their position and enjoy their new found love for tea. Seemingly the nation's calmness has lead to people allowing themselves to fantasize about their bosses’ love life

Everything feels so beautiful

"this one fits in the timeline but I'm not sure if even the writer knows how or when..."

Secret husband timeline

Be it because of secretiveness or nobody believing it was possible nobody found out about your marriage with the iudex until someone says it straight up. Oops

The first two are two different beginnings

How the iudex sleeps

"why did she choose for him to have a resemblance with otters? Even then it's a really sweet domestic piece"

Melusines say the darndest things

sometimes children can slip up and accidentally say more than desired. In this case the journalists are very happy about that.

Drabbles

Would they peel an orange for you?

"mhmm... I wonder why she chose oranges, I think she likes better pomegranate. Wouldn't it be more fitting 'would they open a pomegranate for you?' but I guess at the end it's the same intention"

Do they know if you wear silver or gold?

"I only ever wear this uniform, I'm not really sure how important that kind of stuff is"

Types of baby daddy

"my father has been a 'baby daddy' many times, including my and my sisters' conception and many of our half siblings. Despicable man. He even runs as fast as the thunders he throws so he is hard to catch"

Your ex in my body or me in their body

"seemingly this question is used to pick a fight with your lover, I'm not sure why would you, though"

Ideas

"some blurbs or unrefined concepts, maybe in the future they can become something more polished"

Npc sagau

"suddenly strangers and your loved ones start acting as mindless zombies and only certain people seem to wake up but you are unable to know when... It sounds stressful doesn't it?"

Living together (npc sagau)

Obey me

"it would make sense for them to live close by the only people you can speak with"

"It's a kind of undefined academic environment in hell? I heard from other visitors that highschool and university are difficult and sometimes unenjoyable but isn't this a bit too on the nose? Either way seemingly she could romance demons, angels and a... Regular human? I'm sure she did not... My goodness"

Night bringer saga

All this happen during night bringer but aren't particularly connected or in a particular timeline!

Love language: acts of service

After being temporarily transformed into a demon you find that there are some gaps in your knowledge of demon features care but Solomon is very happy to help

With the firstborn's ring I made you mine

A before bed chat with Solomon leads to you showing some concerns about wearing the ring of light so openly and he offers himself as a scapegoat

Love language, gift giving

He is old enough and famous enough that he can spend some money on superfluous gift and extra candies as long as you smile at him

The sorcerer's demonic firstborn

Nobody is exempt from Mother nature's cruel whims, not even the all powerful sorcerer that defied death. Some friends of yours help you with your dream

Twisted wonderland

"another fantasy setting that happens in a world where people can use Magic and a school? I'm seeing a pattern with her likings. Just tell me she wrote for a prince or a future king or- it's just a guy with white hair again? No just because he is sleepy doesn't make him different, writer..."

Forced fairytale

The tale of the sleeping beauty is one he holds dear, be it because it's related to his great grandmother or his dorm, malleus can't help but feel like silver and the prefect would be such a perfect modern retelling.

[mads-hemmo]

Baseball Boy - College AU

Part 2

Baseball Player! Schlatt x Fem! Southern Sorority girl reader

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Schlatt moves down south to play baseball for a Division 1 school. At a party, he meets a girl who is the exact opposite of him. She’s a sorority girl who obviously has money and a very strong southern accent. She believes there is good in everyone and Schlatt isn’t as much of an asshole as he is letting on.

The beginning of the semester is always your favorite time. You love spending too much money on a planner and choosing an appropriate color for each class. When you receive the syllabus, you put all the assignments in your planner in their respective color. You also love seeing your friends and sorority sisters. It warms your heart to be back on campus in the place that feels the most like home.

You are glad that you had gotten an early start on planning because there’s only been one thing on your mind since Saturday Night. Schlatt. You don’t know why he has taken up so much space in your mind. Frankly, he’s a bit of a douche, but you want to break his shell. You are curious to see what is hiding under that tough exterior. There seems to be more than meets the eye and you want to know what it is.

You have always been curious, wanting to understand how things work and know every detail of it. You hate the unknown and he seems to be the biggest mystery you have ever encountered.

On Sunday, you decided to go on Instagram and search for Schlatt’s name. He only has a couple hundred followers. The only mutual friend you have is Alex Lopez. You saw them talking during the party. There wasn’t much information you got from his account. There were about 6 posts and he only had one that included his face. The rest are just photos of him playing baseball.

Baseball. That seems to be the only thing you know about him. That and he’s from somewhere up North. You are not sure where, but it seems like it might be the New England area.

The other things you know are what you can see on the outside. He’s tall, probably about 6’3”. He has messy brown hair and puppy brown eyes that seem to be constantly squinting into a glare. You're surprised he doesn’t already have crow’s feet. He’s annoyingly gorgeous.

There is so much you do not know about him though. What’s his major? Where exactly is he from? Why did he brush me off when every other guy would be falling at my feet? It’s what made you the most curious. You took the time to talk to him and he barely batted an eye. You know most guys only like you for my money, but he didn’t even care to know your name. Maybe that’s what made you somehow want him even more. He does not know who you are, so he cannot judge you. Even though it seems that he already has.

As you have a meal plan, you make your way to the Cafe to get some dinner. “How was your summer break, Miss.(Y/N)?” Ms. Debra, the sweet lady at the front who scans our cards, asks you. You made it your mission in your first semester to learn every staff member's name, especially those who work at the Cafe. You learned after a semester that if you are nice to every employee, they make your college experience enjoyable.

“It was pretty boring honestly. I’m happy to be back here. How was your break?” You ask her back.

“It wasn’t too bad, sweetie. I was here for most of it as many students take summer classes. The family and I went camping a few times.”

“That sounds amazing. Have a good rest of your night Deb.” you make your way through the main line to grab some chicken fried steak, rice, and peas. You missed the food served here, especially since it wasn’t made by someone who thinks you should be on a diet.

After you get your food, you see your friends sitting at their usual table towards the right side of the cafe. You smile at the familiarity that rings through you as you sit down with the three girls I missed the most during the summer. Gia’s boyfriend Alex is also there. He became a part of the group as soon as they started dating two years ago. Your friends and you all met in your freshman year. Lucy and Gia were assigned as your roommates along with another girl, Sara Beth. Sara Beth however did not stick around as long as the other two. Sara was a nice girl but she never really fit into your group. She came here with her high school boyfriend so you barely saw her. Lucy, Gia, and you all ended up rushing KKG where we met the fourth member of your group, Haley. Haley is Gia’s big who didn’t bond as well with the girls in her year, so she quickly joined your friend group.

Even though you only met them two years ago, you feel like you have been friends with them your whole life. You all live in different cities so you didn’t get to spend the summer together. This is the first time you have all eaten together since May. As soon as you sit down, they all give me a big smile. “How was your first day of classes, (Y/N/N)?” Gia asks you with Alex’s arm around her tiny waist.

“Pretty boring. Just a syllabus day as the first week always is,” you tell her.

“Same for me,” Lucy says as Haley nods in agreement.

“Did Alex tell you about his asshole roommate from the North?” Haley speaks up.

“(Y/N) has met him,” Alex says, with a wink. You raise my eyebrow at him. You didn’t even know Alex had a new roommate, much less met the guy. Alex notices my confusion. “You spoke to him at the PIKE party.”

It finally clicks. “Schlatt is your roommate?” You ask. He just nods. As in on cue, you see Schlatt with a few slices of pizzas on his plate walk to a small table in the corner. His fluffy hair is hidden by a baseball cap. He looks a lot more comfortable than he did at the party. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he combs through his hair before putting the cap back on. You also ignore how lonely he looks as he scrolls through his phone.

“(Y/N)!” you hear Gia say, snapping me out of the one-sided staring match. You look over at her. “I said,’ Was he that guy who made you feel bad at the party?’”

“He didn’t make me feel bad. He just didn’t know anyone and I was being too pushy. Do you guys think he looks lonely?” you ask, looking back over in his direction.

“Do not say you feel sorry for him,” Lucy says. “I should’ve kicked his ass when I had the chance.” Lucy is always the one threatening to beat anyone up who ‘hurt’ the ones she cares about.

You roll your eyes at her forwardness. “Maybe I should go give him company. No one wants to sit alone,” you say.

“Didn’t you just say he called you pushy?” Alex comments. “Plus I think he is one of the few people who likes being alone.”

“Like I said he doesn’t know anyone. I’ll die of regret if I know I let him sit by himself when he didn’t want to.”

“God you’re too sweet,” Haley pipes up. “If you do go over there, please just be careful and don’t get upset if he’s an asshat to you.”

You grab your plate and make your way over to him. He doesn’t notice, so you clear your throat. “Can I sit by you?” You ask him.

He finally looks up from his phone. “It’s you again. Why do I feel like, if I tell you no, you’ll do it anyway?”

“You looked lonely over here so I figured you needed some company, so can I?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, paying attention to his phone. You feel like this was maybe a bad idea but you can’t back down now. You have to prove everyone else wrong.

“So Schlatt right? Did you have any classes today?” He just simply nods. “Awesome. How were they? My professors just went over the syllabuses or syllabi I guess is the right term for it.”

“I’m not interested in joining your sorority or whatever cult you are a part of,” he says, finally looking up from his phone.

“Obviously, you can’t join my sorority seeing as you’re a male. Or at least I assume you are since you play baseball and live with Alex. I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Definitely a male,” he confirms with an eye roll. He takes a bite of his pizza and makes a face in slight disgust at it.

“Yeah, the pizza here is disgusting. They were serving chicken fried steak which is much better. If you don't want southern food, they always have pasta.” You take a bite of your food, savoring how good it is. White gravy is a gift from heaven.

“Do you always dress like you’re going to an event ?” He asks, looking you up and down. You’re not even that dressed up in your mind.You are wearing a pink flowy tank top with white jeans and flats. The only jewelry you’re wearing is a pair of pearl earrings and your Kendra Scott necklace.

“This isn’t that dressed up, but I always try to look nice. I feel better when I take the time to do my makeup and pick out a nice outfit.”

He just snorts a bit before scrolling again. You sigh seeing that the conversation has gone one-sided. Though you should just walk back to your friends and accept defeat, you continue. You take a look at what he is wearing. He has on a baseball cap and a plain T-shirt. You noticed he was also wearing joggers earlier, meaning that he prefers to dress comfier than you.

“What team is that?” You ask, motioning towards his hat. The logo isn’t one of any team you recognize.

“It’s the school I played at before I came here. Don't look it up. I don’t want you stalking me.” You feel a tinge of guilt. He thinks you’re some creepy girl who can’t take a hint. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Why didn’t you listen to your friends? “I’m joking,” he says, noticing my discomfort.

You let out a fake laugh. “Obviously. I knew that.” you sigh. You’re usually really good at reading people, but he’s so hard to read. You feel like the whole douchebag thing is a cover-up, but he’s making it seem like that’s not the case. You want to learn who the real Schlatt is. The one who doesn’t feel like he has to be a lone wolf to not let anyone in.

“Did anyone teach you it’s not nice to stare.” He looks at you with his soft puppy brown eyes that make you want to melt in your seat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I’m just trying to figure you out.” God that sounded a lot less creepy in your head.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why are you trying? I’m obviously an asshole who isn’t worth your precious time. Don’t you have some impressional freshman girls to join your cult, I mean sorority.” He cracks a small grin as if he thinks he finally broke you.

“I’m a really good judge of character and you seem to not be as bad as you are putting on. Plus I’m a junior, I did my duties of talking up KKG as a sophomore.”

“Sorry to break your heart, but I’m really a douchebag. There’s no act I’m putting on. So why don't you just go back to your little friends and talk bad about some helpless girl who doesn’t know how to dress?”

You scoff. “This isn’t high school. Unlike you, I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not to feel better about myself. I’m a nice person just trying to help someone who knows no one here or even in Arkansas for that matter.” You look at your plates which are both now empty. “Do you want some dessert? I think Miss. Brenda made peach cobbler. It’s really good. It will make you happy you came here.” You know desserts are the way to anyone’s heart.

“I have a few questions for you first. One, are you offering to grab me dessert after I was rude to you? Two, what the hell is a peach cobbler? And three, you know the name of the lady who makes desserts.”

“Yes because like I said I’m actually a nice person trying to help someone out. I learned every staff member's name here during my first semester and it’s like a warm pastry with peaches and cinnamon. It’s really good.”

He sighs. “I learned that you don’t take no for an answer, so I guess if you’re getting one.”

You smile making your way to the dessert line. “Hi, Mrs.Brenda. Did your grandbabies have a good summer vacation?” You ask her.

“Hello (Y/N). Yes, we went to Pigeon Forge and they had a blast. Did you have a good summer?” She asks you, putting more bowls of peach cobbler on the line.

“Yes ma’am. I spent a few days with my granny and papa in Fort Worth. I would have stayed the whole summer if I could.”

“I bet they enjoyed having you there.” She hands you a bowl.

“I hope it’s not too much to ask, but could I possibly have two bowls? My friend over there is from the North and hasn’t ever had peach cobbler. So of course I told him he had to try it from the best.”

“You’re too sweet, darling. Of course, you can take two.”

You smile at her as you grab the two bowls and some spoons. You go over to the ice cream machine to add some to each of the cobblers.YouI make your way back to the table and set one bowl in front of him. “It’s best with ice cream,” you tell him, taking a bite of your own. The noise that comes out of your mouth is sinful, but it’s deserved as you missed Mrs. Brenda’s dessert.

Schlatt looks up at you with wide eyes before taking a bite for himself. “It’s good. A bit too sweet.”

“You’re in the south. Everything is a bit too sweet.”

“So I’ve learned,” he looks at you with a smile small enough that it’s barely noticeable and it makes you blush a bit. You feel like maybe just maybe his douchebag act is melting like the ice cream in your bowl.

You both sit in silence for a bit, just eating your desserts. After you finish, he looks at your empty dishes. “Are you done?” He asks and you nod. He takes them, adding them to his dirty plate and bowl. Instead of saying goodbye, he puts his phone in his pocket and takes your dishes to the conveyor belt where they get washed.

You probably look like such a creep watching him leave with a big smile on your face. You look over to see your friends looking at you with faces of disbelief. You smile at them knowing that even if you didn’t feel like you made much progress, they think you turned Schlatt into a total softie who put up your dishes. You grab your things and make your way towards the exit. You smile hoping that someday you will see the full softie that you feel like Schlatt is hiding behind his douchebag exterior.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Here is reader’s POV. As I mentioned in the first part, I changed the point of view from forts person to second person. I hope you enjoy this part. This gives you a little insight into reader. I’m sorry she is so stereotypical, but I promise there is more to her character. Let me know what you think!

[sevenwishesonshootingstars]

Try to Unwind You Two

Yes, more writing based on @arn9tails SdRGAU (please help, it’s taking over my brain with ideas) since I still have some days left before my break ends! After rambling about the unsettling implications of this au that I’ll likely explore in the future, I thought it would be nice to try something in a more lighthearted integration scenario. This is my first time writing something for a fandom that actually involves a canon character (and one of my first times writing something fandom based) so I expect this to be a little wonky (I don’t know how to write characters I didn’t make myself, oops). 

I decided to go with something about Freminet because he makes those little mechanical things, and I thought the smallness would make it easy to help with fine details. I don’t know that much about mechanics so sorry for any inaccuracies. There’s also a little bit of the twins because he needs help socializing (and honestly, so does the reader in this). I hope I did a decent job making this feel as awkward as I felt writing it (I am going to explode). This is also a good time to mention that this and probably most of what I write will be platonic.

It had been about six months since the series of discoveries that had changed everyone’s lives, including yours. At the time, there had been rumors of strange lights at night that seemed to have an outpour of unfamiliar energy. You, like many others, assumed it was some unknown natural phenomenon that would come to be known like the aurora borealis or some sort of widespread arg. Maybe even some AI generated fake news.

In your defense, it was a reasonable assumption. If somebody had told you that those strange lights were portals to another world, especially to one from a game you loved, you would have been worried for them. But then you had been an in-person witness to one of the vision holders of Teyvat suddenly appearing outside of a grocery store. That alone was a shocking enough revelation, but the world had decided that that was still a little too comfortable.

Maybe the universe thought that humanity’s collective ego needed to be knocked down a peg. Maybe universes were just supposed to exist on different scales. Neither idea would have prepared you, or anyone really, for the fact that the person who had wandered through that portal had been taller than the building itself. Though you’d never admit out loud to having such a reaction to one of your favorite characters from the game you’d put so much time and attention into, you had dropped your bags and ran back inside the store at the sight of the oversized but familiar being in the parking lot.

What was terrifying at first was now almost part of your daily routine. During those six months in which Earth and Teyvat had become more aware of each other, things had changed a lot. Other than a lot of eyes turning towards hoyo for an explanation that they didn’t have, both sides came to a strange sort of peace. That’s why you were here, interacting with the towering people of Teyvat on the regular.

As a way to get acquainted with each other, a program had been started. Sort of like an exchange student program, but with people of many ages and across worlds. So maybe not that much like an exchange student program, now that you thought about it. The basic idea was that a select few people from Teyvat would be allowed to stay on Earth for several months while a few people from Earth stayed in Teyvat. 

Having been one of the people present during one of the first moments of contact, you were given a special opportunity. You got to sign up before everyone else if you so pleased. The fan in you couldn’t resist. So here you were, standing on a table in front of a familiar diver who, judging by his mildly anxious expression, had most likely been signed up for this by someone else. If you had to guess, probably his brother.

As the two of you quietly stared at each other, each waiting for the other to speak so you didn’t interrupt, you realized this was going to be harder than you thought. It seemed like you both hoped that you’d be assigned to an outgoing person. Neither of you could start a conversation. An almost cruel case of expectation versus reality. You would think your mind would focus more on the absurdity of the situation instead of the social aspect of it, but anxiety was an irrational thorn in your brain.

Freminet gripped the table lightly, tapping on his knuckles with a finger of his free hand. You picked at your sleeve. The already unnecessarily tense interaction was made even more awkward by the obvious presence of Lyney and Lynette peeking around the doorframe because are you really siblings if you don’t mind each other's business alongside your own?

He glanced over at the twins as if to ask what to do. All he got was a thumbs up and a shrug. How helpful. He took a deep breath and introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Freminet,” he said quietly, which would have been a problem if you weren’t small enough to be on the table in front of him. “I’m a diver. Oh, you might already know that. Sorry,” he continued, remembering what little he knew about the whole Genshin Impact thing on Earth. “Not to assume that you know about me specifically,” he corrected almost hurriedly, leaning away from the table.

You did know, but you weren’t sure what to say here. Did you tell him that you did know? You weren’t sure how to say that in a way that would sound like you thought he was worth getting to know and not in a way that was creepy. You clutched your stomach, feeling it churn with the adrenaline buzzing through you. Talking to somebody shouldn’t be this hard, even if they were much bigger than you.

“I’m [Name],” you finally breathed, craning your neck to look up at him. Your eyes searched his face, looking for a sign of whether or not that was the wrong answer. You couldn’t tell if you messed up or if that was just his face. Trying to push down the thought that he already didn’t like you and reminding yourself that he was clearly having the same issue, you went on. “Hi. I probably should have said that first. Sorry.” Riveting…

“I like your hat,” you murmured, reaching up to point. “Do you… like penguins?” you asked before immediately feeling stupid for doing so. You doubted he’d be wearing a penguin hat and carrying around a mechanical penguin if he didn’t like them. Surprisingly (only to you in your anxious state), he didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, I have Pers here too,” he said, pulling the mechanical penguin out of seemingly nowhere. You leaned over for a moment to see where he had stored the little guy, but there wasn’t anywhere that made sense. Teyvat logic, I guess, you thought with a shake of your head. 

Freminet placed Pers on the table in front of you, and you realized that you were only just barely taller than the mechanical penguin. Glancing up at him, you could see that his eyes had lit up, even if just a little. You had always liked Pers so you might as well take this opportunity.

You walked up to the robotic bird curiously, watching him waddle in place. “This is so cute,” you murmured, circling Pers with interest. Your stomach still hurts, but you have hope for this interaction so you try to ignore its turning. Freminet seems a little pleased with your interest in his mechanical companion. He leans over and rests his head in his arms, which were crossed on the table.

“I heard you make stuff like this,” you say, inspecting Pers. “Can I see some? Uh, if you don’t mind, that is.” You were worried that he would find this intrusive in some way, not that you were sure why you thought that, but he actually seemed eager to talk about his creations. He nodded silently and stood from his chair to retrieve some of them, but Lyney had overheard and beat him to it.

The magician carried in a few mechanical toys of varying degrees of completion. “Tada~,” he sing-songed, setting them on the table around you. “Behold the marvelous mechanical creations of my dear brother,” Lyney announced. You grinned awkwardly and glanced over at the diver, who appeared almost as red as his brother's bow tie. “Thank you, Lyney,” he murmured, looking like he wished he was at the bottom of the sea instead of at this table. The magician winked and left with a bow as dramatic as he was. 

Freminet sat back down and started to arrange the mechanical toys around you. Of course you couldn’t exactly forget that the people of Teyvat were so much bigger than you were. You literally had to stand on the table to almost be at eye level with the boy in front of you, and he was technically short. But you were suddenly a lot more aware of this fact while he was casually reaching over and around you to lift things that were your size. Your already upset stomach flip-flopped at the sight, which made you feel guilty because he was not only not doing anything wrong, but he even seemed a little excited to talk about the clockwork toys he was setting in front of you.

“Pers is always there for me so I thought maybe others would want a toy to keep them company,” he explained. He gestured at the three on the left, all of which were mechanical penguins like his own, just in varying colors. “I brought them to a workshop to sell them, but not that many got bought even though the feedback was good…” He seemed a little disappointed by this, sighing softly. “I don’t mind, but most of the customers who bought them were adults.” 

You looked up at him sympathetically. You walked over to one of the penguins and carefully lifted the wing up and down. “You know, I think these would have been super popular with kids where I’m from,” you said in an attempt to reassure him. “Kids love toys that move.”

He looked up from Pers, though his head was still lowered so he could see you. “Really?” he asked with a flicker of hope creeping into his voice. You nodded and gave an awkward but genuine smile. “I’m not sure why the kids here didn’t buy them all out immediately, but these would be on every kid’s wishlist on Earth.” 

“I’d probably have to make mini versions for that to work,” he said with his hand to his chin and a finger curled against his mouth in thought. 

“Oh, and I thought that since the penguins didn’t do so well I should try some other things.” Freminet lifted a clockwork piece on your right and placed it in front of you. It was a windup mechanical crab that was seemingly modeled after the armored crabs littered along the beaches of Fontaine. The “little” crab had a blue shell with silver details and black legs, looking like a cross between said creatures and a clockwork meka. 

“Aww, a crab!” you exclaimed eagerly. He wound it up with a key on its underside and set it on the table. The legs, which seemed to be a single connected piece on each side, moved back and forth so that the clockwork crustacean could do its sideways waddle over to you. Its pincers rattled awkwardly, and you tilted your head. 

Freminet frowned and picked up the toy crab. “The pincers are supposed to move from side to side too,” he said as he flipped it over in his hand. He twisted the key and watched the crab’s legs move while the pincers stayed in place except for their rattling. “Is something loose?” you asked while he repeated the action. The diver nodded and placed back on the table laying on its shell. 

He looked at you for a moment and got an idea. “The pieces inside of here are pretty small, and I have to use a miniature screwdriver.” He produced a comparatively small screwdriver from his pocket with the same swiftness of hand as the twins on stage. “It would probably be easier for someone like you to hold… Do you think you could tighten the screws inside for me? I mean, only if you want to though.”

You looked at the screwdriver that he held out to you with a slightly trembling hand. From your perspective, it was really just a normal screwdriver. “Okay, I guess I can try,” you answered uncertainly. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you were worried you’d find a way to accidentally break the crab further. “Uh, what do I need to do?”

He smiled gratefully. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t use the screwdriver himself, but he was sure that his hands would be too shaky to be precise with someone watching. It also didn’t help that he was embarrassed by the fact that it didn’t work when he tried to show you. 

“There are screws holding some pieces in place around the moving part connected to the key,” he explained. “I’m guessing they got loose, which is making the turning of the key rattle everything instead of only pushing the pincers back and forth.” Your eyes lit up a little. “Ah, so I just need to tighten those screws,” you finished for him with a nod. That was simple enough.

He nodded and held the mechanical crab on either side to keep it in place while you removed the shell. You knelt down and removed the screws along the perimeter of the crab so the shell was no longer attached. Freminet set the shell to the side, keeping his other hand on the crab so you could work.

The interior of the crab had layers that were held together loosely by two screws while the rest was connected with interlocked pieces that allowed for movement. You leaned over to see if you could reach closer to the outer center where the screws were, but you were too small. That probably should have been expected given that the crab was about the size of you or bigger.

“Oh. Do you need help?” he asked sheepishly, embarrassed that he hadn’t thought about this ahead of time either. “Yeah, I’m, uh… Not tall enough,” you replied. Suddenly this different scale thing was less absurd and more embarrassing. You didn’t have to worry though. The diver was too embarrassed himself to consider laughing. Not that he would have anyway. 

“Um, how should I do this?” he asked, his hand reaching toward you hesitantly before retracting. You look down at yourself and back to the crab. “Or maybe I should just tighten the screws myself,” he added after a moment.

“No!” you said a bit too loudly. You winced at your own volume, though it didn’t affect him much other than startling him a bit. “Sorry. No. I want to help,” you insisted. His gaze fell back on you for a moment before he lowered it to the floor. “Okay,” he said with a hesitant nod. “Thank you. Does that mean I should, um, pick you up? And hold you over the crab?”

You nodded with a matching amount of hesitation. You’d been picked up once or twice before, but this wasn’t exactly something you could get used to over night. He carefully reached over and grabbed you, making a face. He held Pers all the time, but it was completely different from holding a live person. 

His reaction reminded you a bit of somebody holding a baby for the first time, but you quickly shut down the thought because you didn’t want to be compared to a baby. Even though most of the people of Teyvat treated Earthlings normally, there was still a level of infantilization that was hard to escape in these early times of getting to know each other. You’d grown tired of it to the point that you pushed away the comparisons, even in your own mind.

He carefully held you over the crab while you leaned down to tighten the screws. Once it was done, he quickly set you back on the table for the sake of both your comfort and his own. You screwed back on the shell as he held the crab in place and soon enough it was finished.

“It should work now,” he mumbled, turning the key and setting it on the table. The crab waddled away from you both in its sideways wiggle. The two of you watched the pincers carefully. A reward for the awkward moment before, the pincers went back and forth as they were meant to.

“Thanks for helping,” he said, carefully taking back the screwdriver. “No problem,” you said cheerfully as though your stomach wasn’t still uneasy. “Maybe the next time we meet up we can go see how the real thing reacts to the toy version,” you suggested with a gesture towards the crab. He smiled and gave a small nod. “Sure,” he agreed. “We can do that next time.”

Okay that’s it now I’m gonna go sleep for a week. I hope it was a nice read.

[cq-studios]

Unfinished Gravity Falls Fic

Inspired by NightDrawsThings - A Terrible Reunion This fic is an AU where, when Stan shows up after receiving Ford’s Postcard, Bill (in Ford’s body) answers the door. I might finish it at some point, might not. But it felt like a waste not to share it anywhere.

(Also please note that this is a one off thing. My blog is pretty much entirely KH, and I never really talk about GF here, so it's not worth coming to my blog looking for that. I apologize lol)

[This is copy and pasted from my doc, notes included. All notes are in square brackets]

“PLEASE COME! -FORD”

As soon as Stan read the postcard he’d packed up all his belongings (and hey, maybe one or two of the motel’s pillows or blankets… or both. Details? Who needs ‘em?) and drove.

20 hours. That’s how long it had taken. And now that he was here —in Gravity Falls, Oregon; in a white out snowstorm; less than a knock, just a door, away from his brother— he was half-tempted to turn back and head as far away from this boarded up cabin as his state bans would allow.

It’d been over 10 years since they’d last spoken. Hell, since they’d seen each other even. Since he lost him to that fancy-ass college, to that fancy-ass grant. Since he decided he didn’t need his help, that he didn’t need anyone’s help.

But this time the ‘perfect genius’ Stanford was the one that needed help.

Stan’s help.

His brother had been desperate enough to send him, the screw up, a postcard begging him to come. And unlike Stanford, he was actually going to offer a hand. Someone in this family had to have some loyalty.

(And godammit, he missed him. He missed him. He missed him. He missed him. He didn’t want to, but he missed having someone to go through hell with. He was so sick and tired of running around and away and hiding from everything alone.)

Stan took a breath in, freezing air rushing between his teeth.

C’mon Stanley. It’s not that hard. Be a man.

…

He asked you to come. He won’t bite.

Another inhale. A hesitantly raised hand. One tap, and the door swung open.

“Ah, STANLEY!” On the other side of the doorway his brother looked deranged. Eyes way too wide, a toothy smile showing way too much gum, and a voice way too loud.

Stan had seen a lot of druggies in his day (Sometimes desperate people need to go to shady places to get a bit of cash, okay?) and his brother looked like someone who just shot up a little bit of everything…

…kinda…

…not really, but he wasn’t sure how else to explain it.

It wasn’t like his brother to do drugs. The Stanford he’d known would get mad at him for so much as mentioning something as mild as pot. But the uneven shaving, the dishevelled hair, and the smell. God, the smell! (And, if even he, Stanley Pines, was bothered by it, it was bad.)

Maybe his brother had changed more than he’d thought.

“Come in, come in”

Sliding his hands into his jacket’s pockets, Stan walked through the door and past his brother. As soon as he was inside, Stanford closed the door behind him.

Three solid clunks told Stan he’d locked the door behind him as well.

Deadbolts.

Something about that set off alarm bells. A whole lot about this situation was setting off alarm bells. He was starting to wish he’d brought his bat in with him, just in case.

It was almost as cold in the cabin as it was outside (another alarm bell), but Stanford seemed used to it, so it was probably for some science-y reason he didn’t care about. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“So, uh, Poindexter, what’d you need me for?” Stan glanced over at his brother, but his gaze couldn’t help but drift around the room. The windows were boarded up and stuff was haphazardly thrown all over the place. There was also blood on the floor, he noticed. Not a lot, but enough to spark some concern.

“Ya sounded kinda frantic in the postcard. I’ve never seen you use that many capital letters in my life, and, well… I’ll be honest, you’re looking a bit, uhhhh… crazy”.

“CRAZY? I’VE NEVER FELT BETTER!” His brother said, well, yelled.

“Yeah…” Stan caught sight of a crossbow right by the door. Already loaded. Ready to grab at a moment’s notice. ���Who’s after you, Ford?”

“After me? HA! No no, brother. I sent you that card so I could give you this very important message in person!” Somehow Stanford’s smile got even wider. His head tilted at an awkward, almost inhuman angle as he stepped closer.

“Alright,” Stan took a step back, eyes narrow, “what is it then?”

“Well, tomorrow I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake and I might not ever come back. I just wanted to let you know that I never loved you. That I’ve always known you were a big soul-sucking failure who would amount to nothing in life. And that I’ll always hold the fact you tried to drag me down with you against-“

Stan’s blood boiled. His hands clenched into fists so tight he swore he could feel his nails through his gloves. “You dragged me all the way out here for that!?”

How dare he. How dare Stanford make him drop everything- Drop everything. Pack up and drive. 20 hours. 20 goddamn hours. For this. Just to tell him something he already knew. Just to tell him exactly what those closed curtains told him over a decade years ago.

To give him hope just to snatch it away again.

And not only do that. Not only do that. NoNoNo. The drama queen himself had to dump a burden he couldn’t even begin process on him at the same time.

Suicide? He had to be kidding! With his giant cabin and his hoarded money and his perfect goddamn life?!

The shrill, mocking sound of laughter pierced his ears, and, before he knew it, his fist was flying at his brother’s face.

The laughter abruptly stopped.

Just as abruptly, Stanford’s whole body slumped, smile falling, eyes shutting, a bandaged hand rubbing where the punch had landed. His brother’s hand shifted upwards, under his glasses to rub his eyes.

Eyes that were alight with panic once they’d opened and landed on him. “Stanley!? Wha- When did you get here?”

[Maybe add more violence. He stops because Ford’s eye starts bleeding?]

Anyone with a brain could tell something had changed. Unfortunately, with anger still bubbling under his skin, Stan wasn’t quite ready to accept that, “[Blablabla you say that like you didn’t greet me at the damn door then call me names]”

Stanford cursed.

“What did he say to you? How long have you been here?” His brother practically lunged at him, frantically checking him over, “Did he hurt-“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What’re you-” Stan pushed his brother away. He was acting a completely different kind of crazy now, all this third person talk. A thought popped into his head and he gave a bit of a laugh. Well, if it wasn’t Stanford then, “What? You possessed by some kind of demon or something?”

…

“Really?”

…

“Well shit-“

Stan guessed the idea wasn’t exactly as absurd as he’d meant it to be. Stanford always lead the chase after whatever cryptid, or supernatural what-have-you, of the week when they were younger. While he’d distanced himself from all the weirdness as he got older, it made sense that his brother would keep diving right into it (and pick up some straggler along the way, apparently).

It definitely made a lot more sense than drugs.

Stanford wouldn’t meet his gaze, kind of glaring off to the side with a wounded sort of look his eyes. It was a vulnerable expression. It was trying so very hard not to be, but Stan saw it. Even though he was, admittedly, a bit rusty, that didn’t erase the years of experience. He knew his brother.

“So what? You call me over to deal with it like those punks from school?” Hand on his shoulder, Stan wound his arm. He even tossed out a couple mock punches for good measure.

That got a broken, almost laugh out of Stanford, “I believe it would take a lot more than a few punches to get rid of him”.

“I believe you’re just underestimating the power of a few punches,” He cracked his knuckles and Stanford winced at the sound. “A punch got him out of you just a few minutes ago“.

“Temporarily, you woke-“ His brother grit his teeth and pressed a hand against his face. “Ugh, Stanley, I don’t have time for these games. I’ve made a grave mistake”.

“Like getting possessed by a demon”.

“Well, yes… but this is worse than even that.” Stanford grabbed a mug of, what he assumed, was old, practically frozen coffee, up off the ground and downed the whole thing.

Yeesh. Stan had been pretty damn low, but never quite that low.

His brother turned back to him (wearing an expression way too serious for someone who’d just done… that…), “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe”.

If he didn’t have the context he did, Stan would’ve protested. He’d been around the world. He’d seen all sorts of things, but he’d never seen demonic possession, let alone something worse than that. Maybe he really wouldn’t believe it.

He held his tongue as his brother led him to a scuffed up (bloodied) door and inputted a code (top right, second down from top left, top left, third down from top left, third down from top right. A ‘C’, basically). After a quick scan of Stanford’s eye, the door opened with a hiss.

He followed his brother down the stairs behind it.

—————————

“This is what’s worse than the whole ‘demonic possession’ thing?”

Yeah, sure, Stan had lost track of what his brother was saying the moment he started using all that science jargon, but he’d got the gist of it.

Portal. Multiverse. ‘Grave danger’. Yeah, yeah.

Maybe he was crazy, but he still thought being literally possessed was worse.

“Stanley, if this portal gets activated it could destroy our entire world.” “The instructions on how to operate it are divided into my 3 Journals. I’ve hidden two already, but you’re the only person I can trust to take this one.” “Remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat? Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can!”

“You get me to come back into your life after over 10 years, I find out you’re possessed by a demon, and now you’re telling me to get as far away from you as possible!?” “what are you gonna do, huh?! If I go to the edge of the world and hide this stupid book? You’ll still be possessed. Your doomsday device will still be here. What’s your plan, Sixer!?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“What does it matter to me?!” “If you want me to hide your book across the world for you, the least you can do is tell me what your plan is!”

[Stanford gets all indignant]

“Fine. I’m going to head back over the mountains to the cave where I first summoned him. The native people had written about him all over the walls. There must be some hint on how to defeat him there.”

“Like hell you are,”

“What?”

“Listen here, wise-guy, if you think I’m gonna let you do that all on your own, you’re even crazier than you look”

“Stanley-“

“Look, I may not be a genius, but I know what fucking torture looks like, Stanford.” Stan had been through it. Stan had dealt it out. The bandages. The bloodstains. The eye bags. The haunted looks. His brother was a walking corpse. Did he think he would notice? [<- change to dialogue?]

Just let me help you, you ungrateful-

Stanford faltered.

Nono. None of this ‘one sided’ business. That’s not how this worked. When Stan pushed, his brother pushed back. That’s how they did things. That’s how they always used to do things.

But Stanford faltered and, in spite of everything, Stan felt his anger start to fizzle.

“Please, Stanley. Just take the journal and go.” “I’d rather not involve you any more than I have to”.

The words burned.

He already knew that. He did. Everything about this made that very clear. He wasn’t really wanted here.

Didn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

[Add a better transition here]

“Wait,”

“Hm?”

“Of course! How didn’t I think of this sooner?” Standford flipped through the pages of the journal, placing a hand on his chin, “if we place moonstones around the cabin… and then… all we’d need is… ugh, unicorn hair.”

“You lost me”

“Unicorn hair, combined with moonstones and some mercury, it can create a barrier that could keep Cipher out.”

[Transition again]

“There’s seriously something you can do right now, and you haven’t tried it?!” “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Stanley, it’s not that simple. In order for the spell to work, you need unicorn hair. And in order to get unicorn hair, you need someone pure of heart”

“[Or you could just take it by force]”

“[I’d hate to see what a unicorn would do to someone who tried to fight them head on]”

“[I have a bat in my car]”

“Despite how irritating they are- or, maybe because of it, actually, unicorns are endangered” “in fact the one I spoke to claims to be the last of her kind. At least of the North American variety.” “For that reason, and that reason alone, I must ask you to refrain from killing one.”

“Fine, we’ll stick to the ‘pure of heart’ thing.”

“C’mon, I’m doing this whether you like it or not. If you want a say you’re gonna have to come with me”

[Yippie Unicorn Hair is the solution. And it’s in journal 1 so they don’t need to break into an elementary school about it! “Can only be obtained by a Pure Good hearted person” Ford thinks Unicorns are dangerous maybe? That’s why they go on the side quest. But then at the same time he doesn’t want to involve anyone else. That’s probably why he never did this actually]

—————————

[Oops they’re a bit stranded until the snow stops. Bill possession stuff! Yay!]

“The code. I know you were paying attention, saving it for later,” “I know all about you Stan Pines. You could get in there no problem. Think about it. Opening that door (or Activating that portal) is a small price to pay to free your brother. It’s certainly a better deal for you than getting that unicorn hair” “Once he puts that spell around this cabin, he’ll never leave it. Do you really think he’ll wanna keep you around? You’ll be back at square one, won’t you? On the run. Alone.” “But if you scratch my back, I can scratch yours, Stanley. I have the power to give you anything you want. Fame! Fortune! I can even get rid of that Rico guy for ya, the whole nine yards! All you’d have to do is use those eyes of yours to get me into that room.”

—————————

“You still have the Diablo?”

Stan gave her an affectionate rap on the hood, “Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it”.

Stanford gave him a skeptical look at that.

(Okay, so maybe his Diablo had broken, one, or two, or several times. And hey, maybe he had to fix her up, one, or two, or several times too. But that car had been through hell and back with him. He’d be damned if he ever got rid of her.)

(‘Til death did them part, or whatever.)

“You coming, or what?”

“If I were to, you’d expect me to sit where, exactly?”

“Oh sor-ry, when I got the sketchy post card I didn’t take the time to dump everything out of my car for my princess of a brother,” and now that he thought of it, he flipped up the sun blinders. That old picture of him and Ford after that boxing tournament was still on there. Didn’t want his brother thinking he was sentimental or something. “Just toss the stuff in the back, your highness. I’m not your servant”.

Stanford opened the door and as he did he must’ve just noticed the mess in the back because, “Dear god, Stanley. Do you keep everything you own in here?”

“Have to save up some cash, so I’m giving the whole ‘minimalist life style’ thing a shot,” “been a pretty good business strategy, profits are higher than ever!”

It wasn’t that much of a lie…

At least, not if you ignored the fact that pretty much any money he made had to go towards paying off Rico and his goons.

Stanford’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t make anymore comments on the state of Stan’s car. He just silently moved the stuff to the back and finally sat himself down in the passenger’s seat.

Once his brother shut the door, Stan turned the key, shifted gears, and started making his way out of the driveway.

On his way in, the storm had stopped him from really being able to see anything other than the road (and, well, maybe the road wasn’t the most visible either, but no harm no fowl). Point was, now that it was possible for him to be aware of his surroundings, he noticed a hell of a lot more “No Trespassing” signs.

Stan was a fan of all sorts of excessive things; excessive spending, excessive buying, excessive advertising, [a fourth thing], excessive amounts of examples. But this wasn’t a good kind of excessive. He wondered if it was because of the demon or if his brother had been so desperate to keep people away even before that.

They pulled out onto the road and Stan made sure to go the same way he had before. He had passed through the town during the storm and he figured that’d be the place to start looking.

“So, ‘someone of pure good heart’, huh?” Stan glanced over at his brother, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “You’ve been here longer than me, got any ideas?”

“Not particularly”.

“C’mon! How long have you lived here? You’re telling me you never took the time to scout out babes?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” “There were more pressing things to focus on-”

There were always ‘more pressing things to focus on’ for Stanford when this subject came up (except at their prom, but even then, that had taken a lot of poking and prodding and coaching). [Something he’d showed interest in the idea of having a relationship, maybe bring up the kissing robot lol] but he’d never actually seemed really interested in, or hell even attracted to anyone… at least as far as Stan could tell.

It had mostly been teasing, but for whatever reason some part of him had been serious. It had been over a decade. Maybe he thought it’d be different? That he’d grown out of it? He wasn’t sure.

The indifference was almost comforting though. A familiar trait despite their years apart.

“Though, I suppose I did date a siren briefly. Her song didn’t work on me, and we both found it rather fascinating. I was able to learn quite a lot about their culture… Before she inevitably tried to eat me alive, of course.”

“Ha! Nice, Poindexter. You sure know how to pick ‘em,” Stan said, as if he had any idea. He gave his brother a good, supportive whack on the back too, and Stanford basically shrivelled at his touch.

“Keep both hands on the wheel please”.

Or, you know, maybe he’d ‘basically shrivelled’ because the car had swerved. One of life’s greatest mysteries.

[Don’t forgot that Ford is very paranoid at this point. He is not happy that Stan is trying to rope someone else in. Stan gets frustrated with Ford constantly going back and forth on involving other people. Like if he doesn’t want to involve anyone why can’t Stan can just beat the horses up like he wanted to initially? They compromise, Stan agreeing to discretely cutting the Unicorn’s hair when they’re asleep.]

“Sixer, if you don’t want to get anyone else involved why are we even doing this?” “You’re so busy worrying about that damn demon it won’t even matter if we find someone pure of heart”

“That’s it, we’re doing this my way”

“[Protest]”

“What’re you? The cops?” “Okay, okay. I won’t kill it. If we wait until it’s asleep, we can sneak in and cut its hair. Quick in and out. No one needs to know. That better?”

—————————

[A campfire scene? Bonding then Bill takes over? They’re camping out right by the unicorns waiting for them to sleep.]

Stan had heard that falling back into old patterns with someone you care about was easy, natural even. He was sure there was all sorts of things disproving that, but none of them were as obvious as the awkwardness between him and Stanford in this moment.

They’d spent the whole day together —and he’d felt pretty okay about it, all things considered— but here, sitting on a stump in the middle of nowhere, watching the fire, he didn’t know what to say.

He’d never been so aware of much time had passed. There were so many stories he could tell, so many stories he was sure Stanford could tell, and yet both of them were silent.

There was no obvious distraction to cling on to, just the two them. And where do you even begin?

…

The fire crackled between them, flickering and fluttering, slowly melting the snow around it.

Stan was able to keep himself comfortable but past the flame he could see his brother holding his coat closed, shivering.

…

“Don’t you have a warmer jacket? You’re making me cold just looking at you”.

“[I’m alright].” “[it’s easier for me to stay up this way]”

Stan could tell you from experience that was not the case.

“Some sleep might do you some good,” “hard to do a job like this when your accomplice is so tired he’s tripping over his own feet.”

“No-!” Stanford practically yelped in protest, then, sheepishly, he cleared his throat, “No, I can’t”.

“If you’re worried about [the demon… blabla I can keep watch. I have experience]”

“It’s doesn’t work like that it’s-“ “I can’t fall asleep. As soon as I do, he’ll take control.”

“So, what’s up with the whole demon thing anyway?”

Outwardly, Stanford didn’t really acknowledge the question. He just pulled his jacket tighter around himself and stared into the forest. He was going back and forth about something in that brain of his though. Stan could tell. The flitting of his eyes. The tensing and twitching of his expression.

Then, eventually, “We made a deal, him and I”.

“He’d convinced me that progress on the portal was too slow. I was already putting everything I had in, and one night, he came to me with an offer: I let him control me as I sleep, and he could keep working on the portal so we wouldn’t fall behind. It’d seemed like a no-brainer, at the time. He was a-“ Stanford cut himself off, clearly taking time to choose his next words carefully. They came out slowly, stilted, “a trusted ally”.

There was more of a story there.

[More conversation whoooo! Eventually Ford drifts off]

“Will saving him now really make up for what you did?”

[Insert Unicorn heist here]

The sun had begun to rise as Stan and Ford stumbled out of the ruins, each with a loch of unicorn hair in their hand.

“Haha! We actually did it!” Ford cheered, eyes brightest Stan had seen since he’d arrived in Gravity Falls.

“Damn right we did!” Stan held up his hand for a high-six, and his brother delivered with a satisfying smack. Giddy at their success, he tossed an arm over Ford’s shoulder and couldn’t help but call upon a chant he hadn’t uttered in years, “PINES! PINES! PINES!”

There were no words to describe the joy he felt when his brother joined in.

[Notes on Bill’s train of thought here: At first when Stanley shows up Bill is trying to make him uncomfortable, make him angry, make him want to leave and never come back. When this doesn’t work he shifts gears and tries to play on Stan’s insecurities to get him to open the portal door. This is something only Stan and an unpossessed Stanford are able to do because of the eye scanner.]

[bigchumpus]

your pirate au is everything, I just discovered it and. my heartttt </3 /pos your art style is incredible too, the way you draw hair and your design for Pearl's wings are both just. woah. mind blown. gorgeous.

Just want to point out a few things I love!! :)

The quotes from the sketches page: "how do you reunite with someone you thought was dead" <- MY HEARTTTT "almost died" "wings are clipped"

That one instance [screenshot from this post below] of Grian's eyes being depicted as purple after he joins Scar's crew (and presumably whatever incident left him almost dead/"injured and unconscious"), as opposed to the brown they were as a kid? The strong implication that something (or someone? the watchers perhaps? I'm assuming it's something to do with the old crew that took them in as kids) were responsible for it.

"...one day things go awry"

And excuse me again for taking a screenshot [from this post], but the one image in which Grian's eyes are obscured by a bandage, complete with a watcher symbol and a glowing purple eye?? And Pearl's eyes being purple too? And they're both dressed in purple robes... just. insane /pos

The watchers are typically depicted as an oppressive force, and yet they both look happy. IDK. Something something juxtaposition, childhood innocence versus the purple symbolising something that's very widely regarded as cruel or even evil.

All this is to say I really really love it so far!!

and also... absolutely zero pressure at all! but would you perhaps be willing to share some crumbs on the story? :)

SEFJJRHPORDHJ Awww gee! You've made my day! :D Never thought people would really notice the little details

I'm not very good at detailing moth wings which is why I went for more of a starry feel, so I'm glad you like it 😆

And since you've asked so kindly, I could share some ideas rotating in my head,

When you're a kid, I don't think you realize as much the cruelty adults are capable of. Especially when they've been treating you kindly for the most part, and the progression to harsher conditions and punishments is slow. (Pearl would've been the first to notice.)

Grian and Pearl were already stealing to survive, having nothing but each other, so when the given the offer to be spared from their decimated town, and leave as a pirate, they took it. Grian would regret that a lot later :D

I've also been pondering over the idea that no one, including Grian, realized he was an avian, because he wasn't born with wings. So was taken from his nest by hunters who'd thought he'd been stolen (hybrids aren't always treated well, and sometimes hunted down in this au, though by the time they're adults that seems to change a bit), and then taken to an orphanage (which he'd run away from) when they couldn't afford to raise him for very long.

On the other hand, Pearl was born with her traits and would live in hiding with her parents for the first few years of her life, before it'd just be her mother and her, and then just Pearl as hunters had gotten to them.

So when the two met, Grian would often use the fact that they look similar to his advantage, like "Well I'm her brother, do I seem like a hybrid? Then neither is she!"

I think in return for certain protection, Pearl would've taught him some of the basics of the alphabet and reading,

And later when they're recruited to be raised as pirates, maybe Grian would be better at the magic stuff, whereas Pearl would be better at the fighting aspect. Idk I just like the thought that they'd cover each other's bases :D

And during the beginning of the period of time where they're separated, I think there would be mishaps where they expected the other to be there, the way it'd always been.

Something something, survivors guilt and Grian maybe not being as kind and trusting as he used to be, and never making promises. Still loyal although all his presence has ever achieved is death.

Something something, Pearl still clings to the feather he'd once given her, keeps searching because she knows he's alive - he has to be alive, still wonders about if she had just been stronger—

and maybe Pearl sees a bit of her old sun in Gem, and maybe Grian learns to trust in others and himself again with Scar.

Iwouldrambleabitmorebutwe'rekindofinapickleatthemoment-

[psystirene]

WC x Rain World Art Month

Little intermission before I make and post my Hunter design for Warriors x Rain World, a little family tree including Goldenheart (Monk), Yarrowleap (Survivor), as well as their parents and third sibling!

You can consider these relatives to be background characters, none of them are part of the clans, or at least not yet. I'll try to go in order (ramble under read more)!

also if anyone has questions about my AU. Feel free to ask <3

Hemlock - The father! Lock is a ginger shorthair cameo Mackerel (I know he doesn't look like it very much, I find "gray base with orange stripes" a bit hard to pull off). He was the loving mate of Carob, before he went missing and presumed dead. Taken away by Twolegs, never to be seen by his little family again... In reality, Hemlock was TNR'd. He is trying to find his mate and kits, but I feel like he's the sort of guy to get pulled into side quests along the way. Maybe run-ins with the Scavengers, helping some random cat, whatever.

Carob - The mother! Carob is a longhair fawn-and-cream calico, though she's mostly white. I'm gonna be honest, the poor she-cat is going through it. Raised in an underfunded, understaffed shelter, she has learned to cut her losses, no matter how much it hurts, especially when she's not the most well-versed in survival. First, Hemlock was captured by Twolegs, then, she lost two of her kits, (whom she had named after flowers in his honor, fun fact). No matter how devastating this loss was, she didn't think she had any chance of successfully going after Marigold and Waterlily (/Golden and Yarrow). She had to keep Yucca safe, who very much seemed like the runt at the time. Carob is still wandering around, now much older, with Yucca in toe.

(You know about Goldenheart and Yarrowleap already so I won't go into more detail now, this is already quite long. For what it's worth, though: Goldenheart is a longhair cream ticked tabby, Yarrowleap is a blue smoke shorthair with high white.)

Yucca - The fabled third sibling, Yucca is a silver ticked tabby. They are sort of a more adventurous and cheerful counterpart to their mother, though less blindly optimistic then one might consider Goldenheart. They were born the smallest and seemingly weakest of the lot, as such being quite coddled. Whether it be from not growing up alone or simple genetics, Yucca grew up to actually be quite a large and strong cat, moreso than Yarrow. Yucca, similar to their mom, doesn't have much hope in finding their siblings, though unlike her, they believe that they survived. In the midst of keeping themselves and Carob alive, they try to suss out any information they can. It hasn't been working out too well though, as the pair linger closer to the Twolegplace than the Clans.