#someone set them loose together I think it would be neat

[thedailybullshit]

After watching Nimona I can’t help thinking that 1) she & Atreus would be friends & 2) Atreus also deserves eyes that reflect light, shark teeth at will & to be Orange no matter what he turns into

[purdledooturt]

WIP Wedneday

I got tagged again, and y'all... you may not know this but I basically bleed WIPs. I have nothing but WIPs. Sometimes they never become anything, and WIP Wednesdays are the only way they see the world at all. Thank you @cinnamontails-ff for freeing one of these boys from the jail.

In celebration of the announcement of the continuation of An Empirical Science, I would also like to contribute to the Holy Rolan Empire.

The door clicked closed – then, it clicked again. Locked.

“Drop the glamour, please,” Rolan all but growled, “before I do it for you.”

Tav gasped at the commanding tone, her heart seized by cold tendrils in confusion. Immediately, she did as he had asked, dropping the disguise with an exhale. “Rolan!” Her hand flew to her chest, trying to still her pounding heart. “It’s just me!”

“Tav!” Rolan gasped back, his expression going from dark and fierce and angry to something more akin to surprise and confusion and… suspicion? With one final once-over the expression melted into something more sheepish, as his shoulders relaxed with a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. You… you had triggered some alarms, so I…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting loose a few tendrils from his normally immaculately styled half-up ‘do. “It’s good to see you, though.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, pursing her lips together as she felt her face burn red out of embarrassment. Of course they would have security measures for disguises and seemings – she didn’t even think about it. “That was wholly my fault.”

To try and soothe the awkward air, Tav went for the first gesture she could think of: a friendly hug. Oddly, Rolan accepted – in fact, he damn near melted into it. She enjoyed his warmer body temperature, momentarily reminded of the piggy-back rides Karlach used to give her when they were racing Lae’zel. She rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He pulled away from the embrace, examining her once again. “My reaction was completely unwarranted. I apologise, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought you… were someone else. Why were you in a disguise anyway?”

She looked down at her bag of purchases and sheepishly held them up to call his attention to them. Curiously, he peered in. “Last time I came by, Lia wouldn’t let me pay, so…”

He laughed. “You silly girl,” he said fondly, shaking his head. He gestured towards a well-lit seating area by the large floor-to-ceiling window. “Why don’t you take a seat over by the window? Let me at least get you a drink, and I’ll let Cal and Lia know you’re here so they can say hello.”

Tav marvelled at the room Rolan had claimed as his office – the walls were covered in books, from floor to ceiling, but unlike Lorroakan’s old set up it was much more organised and welcoming. Rolan had his books in shelves of polished cherry wood – she found that the desk, chairs, his drinks cabinet, and the furniture at his seating area matched, giving the room an elevated, moody, professional air. It was luxurious and neat – it was just very him.

“ I’d love a juice of some kind,” she called out over her shoulder as she settled down on the plush seat of one of the armchairs. “This place is beautiful, Rolan - you’ve outdone yourself!”

“I found the difficulty of furnishing a space is greatly made easy by having lots of money,” he said in his normal, sardonic, Rolan way, though there was markedly no bite in his tone. “I do hope this juice would do.” 

She’d turned to find him walking towards her with two glasses of wine and she laughed, leaning forward in her seat to reach for one. “That counts,” she joked, as she watched him take the other armchair across from her. She took a sip of the wine – chilled and sweet. 

Before he leaned back he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pouch which he’d tossed her way. It landed on her lap with a light jingle that betrayed its contents. “Say nothing,” he said, pre-empting her protest with a raised hand, “that should be exactly what you paid, and not a gold more.”

���One of the scrolls was on sale,” she mentioned – concern about being credited more than what actually paid oddly the first thing in her mind.

The second, she found, was amazement – the idea of Rolan just… casually calculating the cost of her purchases, just from that brief glance into her bag, just to refund her? Well, she knew he was a genius, but that was as impressive as Astarion’s one-handed lockpicking trick – it was another level entirely. “Rolan, really –”

He finally settled down in the armchair, waving her concerns away. “I’ve accounted for that, don’t worry,” he said, “just to keep the books clean for Bex.”

Ooh - why did he react so poorly? Who was he expecting? 👀

I am super excited about this idea so I am definitely motivated to keep working on it - I just want to have it all planned out before I commit (sorry). I have a prologue whipped up that explains the whole premise from the get go, but there's a whole lot of middle to work with.

[thereminzone]

WOW!!! FINALLY FINISHED THIS ONE!!!

This work used a lot of textures! Wikimedia was my best friend, particularly for the macro shot of the wing scales used in the backdrop (H. Zell, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons) and the photo layered over the barcode (Michael Hanselmann, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons). I think it lends a really nice mixed media feel to this :D

These two are the other two members of THREAT DISPLAY!!!, the fake band for my dnd character Helvia. Rambling about them below the cut for context! Warning, it's long. And probably requires the context provided by the post I made about Helvia.

As is made probably blindingly obvious by this illustration, I continued the name of naming/loosely basing the design on a bug with a threat display, in this case being the peacock butterfly, Aglais Io! It's a really neat creature, being one of the only butterflies as far as I know to have a drastically different pattern when viewed dorsally versus ventrally

Obviously I pulled this pattern as directly as possible for Aegis's (left) jacket, but it's also on the inner lining of Vanessa's (right) overskirt. It's better visible in the earlier basic ref for them:

They look awfully similar.. and that's because they are twins! That's a lie, actually, but it's what the marketing of the band wants you to think. In reality, they are the same exact model of robot, meant to look human in comparison to Helvia, styled differently. They kind of have a complex about this, as would be expected if you were created and saw someone with your exact face who you are more or less put in competition with, and also told that neither of you really matter? It's a gimmick at best. They're not meant to be the real stars here, so it's easier if the public can just lump them together and let them fade into the background. I can't stress just how unimportant these two were considered in comparison to Helvia- they didn't appear in much marketing, and when they did, they were treated more like props. They weren't given unique identities, no fake memories unlike Helvia, just set into this situation with the expectation that they should know they are not important, they are not unique, and anything they do should be to further support Helvia.

Ultimately, though, they are very different people, especially in how they felt about this.

Aegis more or less resigned himself to this, he didn't see the point in trying to fight it or change the situation. He tried to not make anyone upset, stay neutral, do what was asked of him without thinking about it too hard. Sort of dissociating king? I think he internalized the fact that he's not "supposed to be a real person", and it influenced his behavior. He can acknowledge the horror of his situation, but doesn't find the point in fighting it.

Vanessa, meanwhile, finds none of it acceptable. She hates this. She hates the fact that she is a product and a tool and not even an important enough one to be given a basic sense of identity. Giving very "malicious compliance", she can't do much, but she took every opportunity to make it clear just how much she can't stand any of this. She felt that Aegis was a coward, especially because he would always be there to condescend to her, saying it's in her best interest to give up any time she got in serious trouble.

They, predictably, had a pretty rocky relationship because of this. Indirectly pitted against eachother for any amount of minimal spotlight that wasn't going to Helvia in hopes of being given any sort of grace, they also had no one else to rely on? Certainly not any staff, and CERTAINLY not Helvia, there's no one else that understood the unique horror of their situation quite so much as each other, even if they responded in wildly different ways. They had eachother's back, unspoken. Aegis telling Vanessa to 'just give up' is equally an attempt to prevent her from getting hurt further as Vanessa telling Aegis to 'stop letting this happen to you'– they just think that their respective poor coping mechanism is the way to go, when in reality it just means they each continue to be hurt. Dude these guys suck. As much as the twins marketing thing is a sore subject, in a sick way they end up actually having a sibling-adjacent relationship, I think.

As for their relationships with Helvia? Arguably more complicated.

It's a mess. Nobody is having a good time, except maybe Helvia telling herself she's having a good time. The closer they were to her, the better shot they had at actually being treated like they were interesting or important by marketing, and it created obviously an environment that was Not Good! They each had tumultuous on-and-off relationships with her as was directly encouraged of them, regardless of how anyone actually felt. It doesn't help that Helvia herself treated them carelessly, obviously told that they were there for Her– and as someone who wholesale bought into the image she was created for, who was in denial about the fact that she was literally a product, she wasn't exactly receptive to any of their struggles. Aegis pitied her despite their similarities, while Vanessa pretty much wanted her dead. It's bad. It's sooo bad. It's messy.

As for what they're up to now? No clue yet <3 they've yet to appear and I kind of already have terminal brain illnesses about them, if the above paragraphs didn't make it already obvious. Honestly this was just me making half decent art of them to post as in introduction to them before I drop the uh. 12 page comic I made in a fugue state during finals week. So keep a look out for that, I guess!

[authorcoledipalo]

Writing Interview Tag!

Getting tagged and getting to respond is super fun so thank you @aintgonnatakethis !

About me

When did you start writing?

I started writing using word when I was 9, but I've been drawing and creating stories long before that. The first ideas I ever came up with was a pamphlet for a basic horror movie that I made up, but my most influential work was "Limbo". Loosely based around my dreams I created a story that tied them all together.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Occasionally non-fiction. Mostly Self-help books for inspiration (recommended by my father) and this one that I've read called Prisoners of Geography that goes over the way that geography has effected the real world through Geo-politics. (I thought it would be neat and might help me come up with new ideas for my book but it just ended up being king of interesting on its own)

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

I've not yet been compared to any authors. Emulate someone? I'm not sure. But I would like to be someone like Rick Riordan; he's very wholesome, has a great community, and has written a lot of great books. I'd just like to cater to an older audience.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I usually write in my bedroom. I have plenty of space and it was originally a gaming set up but now I've been playing less video games and used this space to focus mostly on school work and writing. If I am away then I'll bring my IPad, or when I was in school I'd chip away at my work using the laptop they gave us.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Fixing mistakes. Sometimes I'll write a little, not like it, and remember exactly what I need to do to fix it. This gives me the motivation to continue writing and has honestly given me some of my best work. Other times I'll listen to my writing playlist (which also happens to be my lawn mowing playlist as all of the best ideas come from when I'm mowing the lawn lol).

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

I grew up in a Florida neighborhood without a lot of kids so most of the time I was inside, away from the heat, and doing something on the computer like Minecraft or writing. It probably influenced me by limiting me to those options, but now I try to experience new perspectives and write about things that I'm not completely familiar with.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

I wouldn't say they exactly surprise me, but they often come after I've made the story. I have the characters, their motivations, the plot, the setting, and from that the themes emerge. I often change things to fit this theme after I've come up with it but the most reoccurring theme is the one of corruption and found family or the lack there of.

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

I know it's a cop out but I can't choose, it's always changing and I can't remember any all of a sudden. Right now I'm thinking Stanford from gravity falls but I'm always thinking of different characters.

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

I started to overthink this question and accidentally got philosophical. My first thought was Mathew, he's from the last story chronologically but was inspired by my first story "Limbo". Another that came to mind was this (currently) unnamed assassin from the story that should technically come after the one I'm currently working on and honestly I would love to get into the nitty gritty about that Idea now so maybe a post for later!

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Raymond. He's made to be disliked. Kind of a jerk and a pretty bad person. Also Greyson, he's a rich snob who thinks he can get his way just cause he has money. Ironically he was almost manipulated by one of my favorite side characters before... uh, something... happens to him.

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

It starts with the plot. I have an idea and I need to fill it in with characters, their personalities come with how they should respond to these situations and everything builds off from there.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

Yeah, they're kind of messed up. Everyone is flawed, but they grow. They all do, even if it's downward.

How do you picture your characters?

Like it's a movie. The medium changes however I mostly imagine live action, sometimes imagine anime but I feel like that would be kind of unrealistic, although an adaptation would be sick.

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

My first inspiration was my mom, I wanted to be like her and write. Now, I still look up to her for that, but I also like the idea of creating these stories to share with others, just to have something that I can call mine and share with people.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Definitely when they pick up on something. The thing that motivated me the most is when one of my friends was reading my notes and asked about Raymond, then told me that she hates him as a person and that I was doing a great job writing the characters.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

As someone who's work was able to reach far, make people think, and hopefully inspire them.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Very obvious strength but my creativity, It helps me get over so many obstacles and come up with all of these ideas and put them together in my head.

Have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

My characters, the plot, and being able to plan almost everything in my head on the spot.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm pretty proud of it. I've been improving a lot and I've been very happy about where I am now, even though there is so much work to be done!

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Yes. I would still want to do this, for myself, for my characters, just because.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

I like to think that I write purely for myself but it's also important to consider things that others enjoy because it gives me a point of view that I otherwise may have been unaware of.

[shywhumpauthor]

Landline Part 7

Just a Plant

Prev. / Masterlist

Cw: kidnapping, gaslighting, creepy whumper, multiple whumpees, abuse, verge of a breakdown, emotionally overwhelmed whumpee. I didn’t even read this over, it’s been in my docs app for months. Let me know if I missed something, I probably did.

Coriander was a good thinker.

They didn’t do it often, as sheer impulsivity and impatience were typically the first to arise, but when they had time to allow the reason to settle, they were able to instill order. They could sort and file their thoughts, their emotions, pack them away and shove them into small, orderly boxes in the dark corners of their mind, only to be opened in the dead of night when sleep seemed to avoid them.

For a while they say there, on the edge of the bed, thinking. Or rather, not thinking. Pushing the thoughts away as they came, knowing that if they let one linger, it would only be a matter of time before the whole flood broke loose.

They didn’t bother trying the window. They already knew it wouldn’t open, they didn’t need to test it. Maybe they could break the glass. Some other time they would try. Not now.

At some point they laid down. Their legs hanging off the side of the bed in the same manner they had when sitting, Coriander turned their head to feel the cool of the comforter press against their cheek. They allowed the motion to soothe them, to calm the flushed heat that had built under their skin. So much had gone wrong, they knew the only thing they had right now was to take solace in the things that weren’t entirely wrong. They could focus on the truths of the situation. They could fixate on how this wasn’t their bed, how this wasn’t their house, how somewhere two floors below their feet was curled in a dark, damp basement, injured and bound. They couldn’t allow the thoughts of how they were trapped, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but this awful house and its awful owner, to flood their mind any further than they were already creeping towards the edges.

If the did, they would break down.

And Coriander wasn’t sure if they’d be able to put themself back together.

It took them a while to return from the faraway land their mind had ventured to. A place that was cool, but not cold, like a peaceful breeze rather than an icy wind. The ceiling blurred in and out of sight, their eyes staring ahead unfocused as colors and shadows played at the corners of their vision, only to disappear with each blink. When Coriander came back, their chest no longer felt like it was going to explode. They felt like the bottom half of an hourglass, sand slowly trickling down grain by grain, pooling somewhere in their torso. It wasn’t an amazing feeling, but it was bearable, and right now bearable was just a bout as good as they could hope for.

They sat up slowly, and then stood even slower. The threads of the carpet tickled the bottoms of their bare feet, and they walked to the dresser, pulling open the drawers until they found a pair of socks. It wasn’t that difficult—they lay neat in the top one, a fair number of them, still with the plastic tags that came with retail. That was at least a little reassuring, if that word could be used at all. They weren’t wearing someone else’s socks. That was a weird thought.

They didn’t look through the other drawers, though the curiosity riddled temptation itches their palms, they knew that there would be time later for them to explore. Not knowing made the room feel a bit more foreign, strange, and the unattached feeling helped them imagine it was just some random room in a random house. They didn’t familiarize themself with each nook and cranny, didn’t take in more than what they saw at first glance. They hoped that way, it would be easier to forget later on.

After putting on the socks, unsure of where to leave the tag they just set it on top of the dresser, by the little potted plant. A sad plant. The soil was dry and the leaves were beginning to turn an ugly yellowing brown. Left alone and forgotten about, withering away with only the thoughts of its loneliness to fill its last days.

It was just a plant. Just a plant.

Just a plant.

Coriander shook their head, stepping away from the dresser and towards the door. The gold knob was cold against their hand, the metallic paint faded in places where many fingers had touched.

They needed to talk to Dan. That was the only thought they allowed to circle their mind, bouncing back and forth to fulfill the space their repressed worries ached to occupy.

They opened the door, leaving it ajar behind them as they stepped out to the hallway. A few steps over and down the stairs, their hand gliding across the railing, the wood smooth but worn. The steps groaned as they walked, steady. Slow but not dragging. They were going to talk to Dan.

Down the stairs. Step by step. Their hand fell from the rail at the bottom, returning to their side. They could feel the cold of the floor even through their socks.

The living room wasn’t far from the bottom of the stairs. The den, as Dan called it. With only a step from the stairs, they could peer to the side and see past the couch to the fireplace, which had by now dwindled to a few stray embers and a faint smell of wood.

Dan looked up as Coriander paused in the doorway, a moment of hesitation as they just now began to think about what they were doing. A muscle in their leg twitched, itching them to turn around and flee back up the stairs. They didn’t know this person.

“I need you to answer me.” Coriander’s words caught in their swollen throat, a lump of anxiety lodging in their esophagus which they quickly swallowed back. They couldn’t get apprehensive now. They had committed to the act, and now they had to play the part. “I just- I need to understand.”

Dan sat in the same armchair as before, though instead of a book they now held a mug, a blanket spread across their lap with a movie playing on the television. They didn’t say anything as they set the cup down on the near end table, and picked up the remote to pause the program.

“Doll, are you sure? You don’t look well, maybe you should rest-“

“Don’t call me that,” Coriander interrupted, allowing the swell of anger at the pet name to fuel their confidence. Their fingers twitched, and they curled their hands into fists. “I want to know. Who was that and what did you do to them?”

Dan frowned. For a moment they didn’t speak, their narrowed gaze pinned against Coriander’s.

“Why don’t you sit down, Cory,” their voice dragged out, their tone stretched thin and laced with something dark.

“No. I’m not- I’m not doing anything until you tell me.”

Coriander regretted the words the moment they passed their lips, but it was too late for them to back down. Dan’s glare turned from annoyed to piercing, a cold knife which stabbed through Coriander’s chest, ripping a hole through their lungs through which all the air escaped from, leaving them faltering for breath as their captor moved the blanket off their lap and stood.

“You have some nerve, Cory. Now sit down so we can talk.”

Nothing about their voice, their words, their tone sat right in Coriander’s head, the walls which held back every repressed fear beginning to tremble. Dan felt like a fire, a burning hot fire creeping towards them, sucking the oxygen from the room as it singed their skin. They knew they had to pull back, wrench away before the flames could burn them, but whatever stubborn force that had driven their words now seemed to seize control of their body as well, keeping them planted firmly in place even as the flames started to lick up their arms and catch onto their clothes.

“Tell me.” Their voice came out barely a whisper, barely a sound, lost among the crackling of the blaze. Dan grabbed them by the arm, their touch burning worse than any heat could as they dragged them forwards, before pushing them down to the couch, standing above where they sat to glare down at them. Their knees were practically pressing against Coriander’s, their presence pushing them further into the couch as they placed their hands firmly against Coriander’s shoulders.

“Listen to me very closely.” They bent down slightly, evening their face with Coriander’s. So close they could see the reflection of light in Dan’s pupils, the way their lips pulled as they spoke. “You will not disrespect me. You can either speak to me as a civilized person, or not at all. This is my house, and you will follow my rules, do you understand?”

It took Coriander a moment to find their voice, which had retreated deep into their chest. They swallowed, words scratching against their suddenly dry mouth. “You- you haven’t told me any rules-“

The slap came faster than Coriander thought would be possible. A palm cracked against their cheek with enough force to leave their ears ringing for minutes afterwards, swift and stinging as a snakebite as their head was knocked to the side. Pain exploded, ricocheting up their temple and down across their jaw, a burning sting erupting across their skin.

Dan grabbed their chin, twisting their face back towards them, barely giving them a moment to recover from the blow before their nails were biting into Coriander’s cheek, drawing a pitiful sound from the depths of their throat.

“Do not test me,” Dan hissed, their face so close to Coriander’s they could feel the rush of breath past their kidnapper’s grit teeth. “My patience is running out. If I have to strap you up in the basement and whip you bloody to get you to behave, I fucking will.”

The next few seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity as Dan stood there, eye to eye with their captive, unrelenting and unforgiving. Finally, they let go of Coriander’s jaw, their hand moving off their shoulder to smooth over Coriander’s hair, their composure returning to a gentle quiet as quickly as the slap had struck.

“Now, doll, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

—————————————————

Next

Tag list: @a-n-i-a-fan @itsmyworld23

[charbend]

System Overflow Chapter 2

Frank sat in his chair, still spinning from his rough landing. He stared helplessly at the screen in front of him, which moved to keep itself a fixed distance in front of his face. He stood up sharply, his chair sliding back into the wall of his cubicle.

The cubicles next to him were empty. He could still feel the warmth from Jason’s hand.

His breathing started becoming panicked. “They’re gone. Okay. Some weird flash of light took my friends. Were we friends? Jason would probably think so, but I don’t know about Sanjay.”

He chuckled nervously. Probably not the thing to be worrying about right now.

Looking past his cubicle group, he tried to spot anyone else who might still be in the office. There weren’t many people on this floor, so a visual inspection was quick. He was alone.

“Is there anybody else here?” he called out.

All he heard back was the air conditioning kicking in.

Okay. Deep breaths. Maybe everyone who’s left will be at the emergency meeting site. Right? He glanced around. This feels like it could be considered an emergency.

He stepped out of his cubicle. The screen followed him, and he eyed it warily. “You told everyone that the teleportation thing was going to happen, right? Any chance you could tell me something helpful, instead? Something that will make me feel a little less like the sky is falling?”

The screen didn’t respond. It maintained the same message:

Unable to finish teleportation operation. Emergency procedures engaged.

Please wait while procedures are confirmed…

Error! Planet [Earth] does not fit any emergency procedure conditions!

Engaging Auto-Sweep to clean loose ends.

“Hmm. No. Well, I guess I should get to my own ‘emergency procedures’ then.”

He tried side-stepping the ominous message, but it remained resolutely in the center of his vision. Frustrated, he swiped his hand at it, and it slid to his peripheral vision, compressing into a neat little notice with an exclamation mark.

“Oh, great. I have a personal heads-up display now. Just what I always wanted…” With his vision now clear and feeling like he had a bit more control over the situation, he set off. 

Okay, first step in meeting at the evacuation site: find a map to the evacuation site.

He heard a crashing boom from outside.

I’m sure that’s fine.

<O/%%%%%/O/%%%%%/O>

It was not fine. He stood on the second floor landing of the stairs, where he had found emergency exit procedures. He’d had a moment to look at them before his attention was drawn out the window beside the map.

Frank worked in an office that its architect might sell as a ‘timeless look for industries of all kinds’, but could charitably be called a brutalist enclosure for humanity. ‘Office’ and ‘Park’ were not words that should be joined together.

This office was considered accessible, which meant that it sat right off the freeway. From the window that Frank stood at, he had a good view of the road.

He was glad he hadn’t gone out for lunch yet.

The entire roadway was a wreckage of steel and wheels, the occupants having either crashed when magic screens showed up in their faces while driving, or disappeared entirely, leaving vehicles to drift aimlessly.

This was the first time he’d seen people since his coworkers had been teleported.

Unfortunately, this was also the first time he’d seen dead people. He turned away, queasy.

This isn’t good.

With a little prompting, he pulled back up the notice.

Error! Teleportation capacity exceeded.

8,126,934,201 / 7,000,000,000

“This is happening everywhere.” He glanced back out the window before looking away. Guess it’s not gonna be climate change that gets us.

He dismissed the notification again, letting it collapse to the side of his vision. He stood back up, and continued down the stairs. The assembly point was downstairs. Hopefully someone would be there.

<O/%%%%%/O/%%%%%/O>

Even after waiting for a while, no one else showed up. He was alone at the office.

Frank sighed. “I never thought I’d find myself wishing remote work was abolished.”

He looked around the little courtyard. If it weren’t for the unwelcome notice in the corner of his vision, it would be a lovely day. The sun was out, giving a nice, gentle warmth as he sat on a bench in the middle of the nice, manicured lawn. There wasn’t even a single plane in the sky to break the calm of the day.

Suddenly, a new screen popped into view.

Auto-Sweep process engaging.

Errors to resolve:

[Users] on world

Unusual energy signatures on world

Unknown Skills detected

His stomach sank. “What now?”

Resolving: Unknown Skills detected

Categorizing Skills...

Integrating Skills...

Unknown Skills no longer detected

Resolving: Unusual energy signatures on world

Analyzing energy signatures…

Integrating energy signatures…

New Skills created!

Resolving: [Users] on world

Error! [Users] on world that has been evacuated.

Recategorizing [Users]...

Another pop-up appeared in Frank’s view. This one appeared to be a status sheet, though it was filled with all manner of data that he couldn’t parse at a glance. What did draw his attention, however, were a few lines at the top:

Frank Vila

Human [User]

As he looked, it changed to:

Frank Vila

Human [Native]

Then it disappeared.

Resolving: [Users] on world

Error! [Users] on world that has been evacuated.

Recategorizing [Users]...

[Users] recategorized!

[Users] no longer on world.

All errors resolved!

Beginning terraforming…

The blue screen stopped updating, and a green screen appeared. Frank ignored it, compressing it to the side of his view immediately. He laid down and looked at the sky. “I was not ready for today.”

The clouds scudded by as he lay there, letting himself have a moment to just be, without worry.

Distantly, another explosion sounded.

“Yeah, okay, so much for that. Let’s take a look at the information I have, shall we?”

He flipped open the blue screen, the log of messages he’d received still present.

“Whatever this is, it looks like it was trying to teleport everyone on Earth. Obviously, it failed. That means there are definitely still others out there. At least…” He squinted at the numbers. “One billion and some change. That feels like a lot, at least.”

He scrolled up further. “I guess the 7 billion lucky winners are off in the ‘tutorial phase’, whatever that means. Jason and Sanjay are probably there, and…” he was struck by a thought. “My family! They’re caught up in this too.”

He reached for the phone in his pocket, before he remembered that it was still at his desk. I need to check in on them. Right now I have no leads on what is happening to them, or where they are. I’ll need to get my phone, but I’m concerned about this latest message. All the [Users] on the planet, which I assume is everyone, are now considered [Natives]. He tilted his head. “Hmm, feels a bit like a downgrade, but I don’t know where everything fits in. It said it’s some System, right? So, a [User] feels pretty straightforward, but [Native]? I have no idea.”

He glanced at the green notification at the side. Maybe this will give me some clues. He pulled the green notification over, letting the blue screen disappear.

Type changed to [Native]!

[Native] : generally reserved for unintelligent life, [Native] provides System access. This access can expand and change as [Native] is affected by terraforming. For more information, see [Lifeform] type.

The screen vanished shortly after he finished reading it.

“Okay. So, definitely a downgrade,” he said shakily. “Subject to terraforming can’t be good, can it?”

He stood up on wobbly legs, and gave one last look around. No one had shown up yet. It was time to move on. He started heading back to the office. “If I can get in contact with my family, great. If not, maybe I can reach out to someone else. Sanjay seemed to have an idea of what was going on; maybe someone else does as well.”

His stomach growled. Jason had some food stored away, too. Anxiety straddling his shoulders like a child he’d never had, he made his way back to the office, eyes peeled for signs of this ‘terraforming’.

It didn’t take long to find him, as a glowing blue squirrel jumped him on his way in the building.

***

You can find this on Royal Road! (https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/83902)

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Alright y'all, I've been wondering about Alice since season 1. Like, she married Daniel and divorced him, had two daughters with him. She may totally be a character the show made up. But I have dug deep into the wiki and have made some discoveries. So, here are 2 characters that Alice could be based on:

This one is less likely, but I'm putting it first just to get it out of the way. She's Alice Mayfair. Her father was Remy Mayfair, brother to Julien Mayfair, aka the Julien they kept mentioning on the Mayfair Witches. Considering how they've moved the setting to present day (give or take a year or two), Alice could be possibly be around the same age as Daniel in the Immortal Universe. But she does have a daughter, Beatrice, that marries Aaron Lightner in the books. In the Immortal Universe, Aaron/Michael Curry were merged into Ciprien Grieve. So it's possible they could use her, and have Beatrice be one of Daniel's daughters. Just with an updated name, or she's going by her middle name. (If I was named Beatrice, I'd probably use Kate or Lenora/maybe Lenore? It looks like Lenora to me.)

2. This one is still related to the Mayfair Witches, but Alice isn't actually a Mayfair here. Let me explain. Cortland Mayfair, aka the worst uncle ever, from the Mayfair Witches, in the books had a half-brother named Gravier Blackwood, bc their dad was a big slut. And Gravier marries a woman named Alice. The wiki only lists her on his page, and with his last name. But they have a son together named Thomas Blackwood. Who has a daughter named Patsy. Who is the mother of Tarquin Blackwood, aka Quinn, the main character of Blackwood Farm. Which is a book in both the VC and Mayfair Witches. So we're probably going to see some version of it, in some future crossover episode. Rowan could even be there bc Gravier was half Mayfair, if the show wants to. And it could sort of tie Daniel into the story, like either Alice calls him up and is like, 'my grandkid needs help. Yeah, the one got from the son I had with the man I married after I divorced you. But he is our daughters' nephew' Or one of his daughters calls up and is like, 'my dumbass younger brother's kid is in a Situation, help out, you owe me.' And then Daniel helps him get in touch with Lestat, and the crew has a zany adventure.

Idk, I only read the book bc it crossed over with the VC books, I don't really remember much. I do remember there was an intersex vampire, who I just looked up named Petronia. (And I don't exactly remember Anne writing that in a way that was respectful. I actually think they use the h-word.) But she was a Roman gladiator who fought animals and shit. When she was 14. So she was pretty bad ass. In the books some vampire named Arion buys her and gives her money and frees her to do whatever tf she wants. Except she has nowhere to go and asks to stay with him, and he eventually turns her into a vampire.

But Arion kinda just vanishes from the books. Though he may have been mentioned and/or in one of the Prince Lestat books, bc I don't really remember much of them. (Getting through the second book was a slog.) So my idea is that they could make Marius her maker, as he was Roman, and the time periods are close enough. Plus Petronia also disappears from the books. I think it would fit with what we've learned about show Marius so far. Buying someone from an abusive place; takes her in to give her a better life, they become lovers, eventually he turns her. I just think it would be neat to have an actual intersex character, since gender is a bit loose when you're a vampire. I think it could give a unique perspective on gender. And also there need to be more intersex characters on TV; they make up over 2% of people in the world. And two percent may seem small, but that's 2% of over 8 billion people. That's 160 million people. They deserve to see people like them on screen as much as everyone else LGBT+ Remember when we called it LGBTQIA? That's the I. Though I hardly ever see them brought up, unless they're being used in arguments about the gender binary. (Which is so weird to me, bc once I learned that being intersex was a thing, I was like, so why do we only say there are two sexes, if there are literally more of them? And my mom was like, Idk how to answer this to a 7 yr old.)

This post got kinda ramblely. But I will mention one more thing. The vampire Sam Barclay, screenwriter and Talamasca agent, who was teased to be another character (tbh it's probably just Laurent or Everard de Landen) could possibly be based on Barclay Mayfair. Being a Mayfair would probably suck as a man, bc only the ladies get the magic juju (except Julien bc he's special). It would explain the Talamasca connection, bc we know they've been watching the Mayfair's for a long time. He could have got vamped after he started working for them. Probably not, but I know they're gonna eventually crossover all the different shows in the Immortal Universe. And they gave Santiago a bigger part on the show, so maybe?

[sarahjenningsart]

Unit X: Critical Reflection

This year I wanted to focus on ideas of childhood and nostalgia, I have always been someone who paints the people I know and love. As this project has been about family relationships, it has meant surrounding myself with photographs of those I feel the most comfortable with, as throughout being at university I’ve always wanted to stay close to home and family, and this theme as helped me do that.

I haven’t done that much exploring this year with materials, I wanted to develop my style with oil paints. I keep my painting style quite loose to keep them away from being too close to the photographs. I like my paintings to look like paintings, seeing the brushstrokes and the textures. And with my paintings this term being so small these aspects were emphasised. I have always tended to stay on the size of A4 when painting, so I didn’t want to overwhelm myself by having larger paintings as this project was all about home comforts. I also feel that if the paintings were larger, they would become more realistic and loose the soft feel that the smaller paintings have. I did experiment with video production, taking childhood home videos, editing them together to make a montage of my life. I like the way the end video came out but, in the end, felt like it took away from the paintings but it’s still a nice thing to have and show my family.

I painted the sides of each painting black to make them seem more cohesive, I didn’t want to leave them white and thought if I stretched the painting over the edges they would look less like photographs. I think the black just makes them look more professional and neat.  

I’m really happy with all of the paintings from the ‘Family Album’ series, from them being so sentimental for me but also the technicality of them. The painting ‘Fishing’ is one of my favourites I’ve done. It just feels so light and bright with the sunlight beaming through, which is exactly what I wanted to show in these paintings, that they look like the happy memories from childhood. And the image itself is just the epitome of childhood, fishing for rubber ducks. With the cap covering my face I think it detaches me from the image, so the audience can relate to the painting more and see themselves or other loved ones in the painting. I’m also happy with how I’ve represented relationships in this series with all the pairs of people showing love and happiness. I found it challenging to paint the people I’m most familiar with as it made me even more of a perfectionist when it came to them. Especially in the painting ‘Grumpy Grandad Smiling’, which features both my grandma and grandad, who have both passed away during my time at university. My dad actually asked if I could paint this photograph as it is one of the only photographs of my grandad smiling, so this painting probably means the most to me out of all of the series. I’m happy with what my painting style has become through the past 3 years and the final body of work produced for the degree show. This series is definitely one I wish to continue post university, exploring more photographs and memories.

I’ve spent more time in the studio this year enjoying everything it is that I paint. I feel like I’ve really started to come into my own in my third year, much more than the first two years where things were constricted due to covid. I’ve finally began to feel confident in my work this year, with showcasing my work and during the group crit sessions. To help meet the Unit X outcomes I have set up an Instagram page, a Tumblr blog and a website. With myself feeling more comfortable to show my work this unit, I began thinking about how to make myself more professional. I have always seen my art as a part of me so rarely show others my work, so I have really pushed myself in creating an Instagram account, where I’ve started to post photos of my paintings. I have also made a blog on Tumblr to show the process of my paintings and bits of research from this project. From the Tumblr page I have also made a website, where it has links to the places people can contact me, a section for my artist statement and portfolio work, featuring work from this unit as well as archived works from previous projects. I had some issues with this and had to start over when the site crashed, but I think the final look of the page is very professional and clear.

For this unit we had to raise money for the degree show catalogue. I was a part of the fundraising team to raise a target of £1,000- which we managed to make- I helped with the clothes sale and baked cookies, brownies and cupcakes as well. I was concerned I wouldn’t be huge part of this, because I’m not as vocal as others, but I was an active member within my group as they all made me feel really comfortable. I’ve felt like this year was the first one I haven’t felt so isolated with university life so it’s sad that it’s not coming to an end. I’ve learnt so much about myself and the paintings I produce in this project and it’s something I really don’t want to lose.

[fellpyrean]

Advent Statement 10 - Hospitality

And here we are. The final one I managed to write, though I am pretty sure I only finished it on the 23rd or 24th itself and then promptly fell over dead. Unfortunately, the final intended chapter of this advent was never written, but who knows! Maybe I will write it as a silly goof this year. 

On to this one, I really had to keep beating ideas for the stranger out of the ranking, but they still ended up with two chapters, those showy bastards. They’ve just got such aesthetic, you know? 

This chapter contains a version of an OC of my partner and I’s, and we love him very much. Please, be polite to him. He’s an excellent guest. 

CWs: canon typical violence/peril?? 

___________________________________________________________

You've seen candles in the window, haven't you?

They're popular this time of year; little AA powered twinkling things, plastic and fake leaves of holly to make them pretty and fire-safe. Don't get me wrong - I like them. I think they're charming. I just never really thought of them beyond decor until recently. 

Never really wondered what a candle in the window meant until I put that candle in my window and… formed my contract, it would say. 

My guest.

It’s a welcome, the candle. A bright, flickering beacon at the end of a long, dark journey. An offering of food and shelter and, hah, hospitality. 

I should backtrack. 

The house used to belong to my uncle, but the one I got it from was an old family friend. I’d just gotten kicked out of my old place, so they’d decided it was as good a time as any to pass the place back on to me. And look, maybe it was a horror movie setup from the start, but the reality is, when someone gives you a house, you look past the colonial brick and woodwork and the included cellar and encroaching old-growth and any creepiness inherent and go hell yeah, I’ve got a place to live. 

It’s a lovely house. Sturdy and creaky all at once, with stone and real wood floors and a huge glass door - a much more recent addition - that looks out over the field between it and the forest out back. No ever-present sounds of traffic, no door-to-door salesmen because out there, odds are they’ll be met with a shotgun. It was peaceful and cozy, once I got a few rugs, and I was willing to coexist with whatever ghosts might have haunted the place as long as they were polite. Feels like I shot myself in the foot with that one, honestly. 

This began with a candle. 

I found it tucked away in the cellar, and ignoring the fucking foreshadowing of where I found it - literally behind a hole in the wall, where a piece of stone had been loosely removed and set back in - I was immediately charmed by it. It wasn’t new and neat; it was old and yellowed and rough, obviously hand-dipped, and the smell of clove came faintly from the slightly soft wax. I mean, it’s not wax, but that’s what I thought it was. It was tallow. Rendered fat. Yeah. You don’t need me to say the rest; you’ve already got an idea and so do I, but I never asked.

It sat in one of those old-fashioned metal candle holders with the dish and the little loop to put your finger through, with a little circle of melted ‘wax’ still in the tarnished base, and… And I thought it had an antique charm to it. It wasn’t all neat and perfect like something modern, and it just. Made sense to me that when it came time to decorate my home for the holidays, I put it in one of the windows. The front ones all had curtains but I’d not quite managed to scrape enough together to get curtains for all the ones in the back, so in the interest of fire safety, it went in the narrow little window next to that big, glass door facing the woods. 

No curtains, and I could see it from my usual perch at the kitchen counter. Seemed perfect. 

The sight of it there, burning bright and filling the room with that odd but not unpleasant scent made me feel warm. Cozy. Just old, orange flickering firelight lighting up the space, silhouetted against the black shape of the trees outside. 

A glittering invitation. 

He… it came the next night. 

All day, I was weirdly on pins and needles. I couldn't sit still for the life of me, and that antsiness manifested as the most cleaning that house had probably seen in a century. Even the baseboards got a scrubbing. I can't even claim that I had company coming in like a month, because I didn't; I only had the one couch and my dining table only sat two if you didn't mind personal space. Like hell was I offering to host. 

But it just seemed like something that needed doing. And when I was done cleaning and tidying, I started to cook. Beef and barley soup, if you must know. 

It had just really finished up when I… When I relaxed enough to look up and notice that it was dark - and the candle was lit. I hadn't noticed the scent of clove filling the room, threading through the rich scent of soup, until then. 

And then I noticed something much, much worse than a candle I didn't remember lighting. 

There was someone standing on my back porch. 

I almost screamed from that alone, really. I know I locked up for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I stood there with nothing but a wooden spoon in hand and stared at the barely illuminated… person? Standing just a few feet from the glass. 

It wasn't… wasn't quite shaped right. It was very tall, and the outline was all wrong. This was not helped by the fact that I could see what looked like antlers coming off its head, before I realized there was still a skull attached to those. 

A bare, yellow-white deer skull over its face like a mask. I could see the flickering candle light, the pale moonlight dripping down the prongs, glinting off the teeth. And then it slowly stepped forward. Its outline rustled as it moved, as it stepped closer and raised too sharp fingers and gently, carefully, knock-knocked on the glass. It… it sounded wrong. It wasn’t flesh that made its fingers, and I have never wanted to own a shotgun more than in that moment. 

But it just stood there. That hand still raised expectantly, its unseen eyes fixed on me. I did not move. I watched as it slowly tilted its head, watched something sway and clatter from its antlers, and it knocked again. 

I… I swear, when it. When it knocked again, when it stared at me with that skull’s empty eyes, I felt a sudden… sense of crisis. Like the candle smoke went cloying, like I could hear those… those claws dig into the glass, and abruptly knew that it only stayed behind it because it was being… polite. 

It was the most absurd thought, but in that moment, I knew that it was true and I latched onto that surety like a rope. 

I opened the door for it. 

My terror was probably tangible in the air as I did it, but I lunged over and unlocked the door and slid it open. I was close enough I could smell the scent of pine and dirt and smoke clinging to it, clinging to the… the pelts it wrapped around itself. I could hear the layers of dusty furs rub against each other as it nodded towards me and held out that pale, clawed hand towards me, until I took it. 

It shook my hand and my skin crawled at the cold touch and then it just let go and stepped inside. Each step clunked. I didn’t think about it too hard. 

All I did was close the door, listening to it clunk, clunk, clunk across the wooden floors, and heard it pull out a chair at my tiny dining table. 

I wish it had done something worse, but, no. 

I gave it soup and it wasn’t until it finished eating it with a mouth I never saw that my words came back to my tongue and I could ask who, what it was. 

And it just answered, in a voice deep and rough, “I am your guest.” 

It is the guest, and I. I am the host who invited it in. 

Nothing about it was human. Its joints moved wrong, like… like an animal. But it held the steaming mug of cider delicately in its… fingers that clicked against the ceramic and sipped it almost contentedly, and I just had to watch and host it with a smile as my fear simmered beneath my skin. The longer I saw it under the light, the more I realized just how wrong it was, and it was only with my nerves fraying and my fingers shaking that I guided it back to the door once it stood and thanked me for the meal, and just. Left. 

I watched it walk and slump back out across the field and vanish into the trees and only then did I let myself slide to the floor. I felt wrung out. Exhausted and jittery and I didn't move for a while. 

It was only when I realized I was watching shadows dance on the ceiling cast by candlelight that I found an outlet to act on. I snuffed the candle with fury and marched right back down to the cellar with it. That was really the first time I ever wondered why something so charming had been shoved into a literal hole in the cellar wall, but now I had a feeling. 

The candle called that thing inside. 

So, if. If the candle was in the cellar like that, there must have been a reason. Had my uncle put it there? Had he known? Was that why he'd passed off the house, why the person he'd given it to had never set foot inside while they owned it? I had no answers but I was pissed. Scared pissed. I'd had to sit next to that thing for an hour and act like everything was normal and like I didn't hear way too many things shift and clink-clunk together when it moved or wonder where the soup was going or whether the soup was what it was eating at all. 

I shoved the candle back into the hole, back into that dirty, dark little spot and I found the stone that was supposed to cover it hidden beneath the stairs and rankled at the idea that someone had set it up for me to find. 

All that mattered, I told myself as I hefted the stone back into place and pushed at it until it was more or less back where it belonged, was that the candle was gone now. It was gone and unlit and that thing wouldn't come anymore. 

I think that desperate satisfaction helped lull me to sleep; me telling myself I had fixed the problem. It had worked for the last person, so it would work for me. 

(The last person left. The last person never stepped inside the house again.)

Couldn't really afford them, but I bought the rest of the curtains the next day. I didn't want to see the field in the morning anymore, didn't want to watch the twilight and squint for owls and deer. I didn't want the thing in the forest to see me, to see any light spilling from the windows and take it as a welcome. 

Oh, and a shotgun. I kept it very close as I hung my new curtains and ate my extremely cheap dinner, and the thing did not come back. 

Not for a week. 

I watched every night for it. Jumped at every creak and thump outside, though I was very proud that I hadn't devolved to checking with my shotgun in hand. 

When I heard that heavy clunk on the back porch though, I instantly knew the sound. 

Clunk. Clunk. 

Silence. 

My heart thudded frantically in my chest as I dared not move. 

It was standing on the back porch again. I couldn't see it behind the thick, heavy curtains I had installed, but I knew with utmost certainty that it had come back and the candle was not lit. 

It did not knock. 

It stood there, and then I heard it laugh.

Low and raspy and rolling, and then I heard those claws drag against the glass. 

"Am I no longer welcome?"

The glass wailed. It shook. 

“You no longer wish for me to be your guest?” My shotgun was on the table. I went for it. I’d bought it for this. I ran, and the glass shattered. Something. Something snarled, something came running too fast, its steps disordered and heavy, and I refused to look. Not until I had my shotgun in hand and turned and it was. So, so much worse than I expected. 

It no longer resembled a person at all. It… it had too many limbs. All those pelts, writhing and shifting, too many limp paws and hooves all clawing forwards, all connected to that single, grinning deer skull. Bones and twigs and baubles jangled beneath, a horrid cacophony that howled as it barreled through my kitchen, as that deer skull’s mouth opened - I shot it. 

I don’t think I missed, but I. Didn’t dare wait and watch. 

All I know is that it didn’t stop, either way. I shot and ran and it laughed and cackled and snarled and I. I ran down. 

I don’t think I could have made it out the front door, or my car. I don’t think my car could have withstood it. Upstairs… I would have just been cornered. The only option I had was down. I’d be cornered, but it had… it needed to be my guest. I had to host it. At least until I could figure out some other way to deal with it, at least the candle kept me safe. 

The cellar had a good lock. Sturdy. I just prayed it would be enough as I barreled down the stairs and dropped my gun and scrabbled at that stone. It thudded against the wood. I heard the door splintering. I heard the things horrid hollow laughter, heard something too, too heavy for empty, writhing skins slamming again and again into the door as I struggled and pulled at the wall, swearing as it moved so, so slowly, dragging against old mortar - 

The door shattered. 

The stone slipped and cracked on the floor as I plunged my hand into that awful little hole and grabbed that too-soft candle in the dark and. And felt fur brush against my arms. Felt soft, supple leather draped across my shoulders and rasping breaths at the back of my neck. Cold, long-dead teeth pricked above my spine as I. Shivered. 

But it didn’t move either. 

So I. I pulled the candle out of the wall and didn’t look at the mismatched pelts, at the old claws that capped empty, grasping paws as I held it up. I licked my lips. 

“Can I invite you to sit down for dinner upstairs?” 

My voice was impressively even. I was… specific. As specific as I could be, with its teeth pressed to my skin. 

You can probably guess since I’m here that it worked. It… it didn’t let go of me until I lit the candle. That walk up the stairs was… one of the worst moments in my life, I think. The skins were so heavy as it clung to me. Cold bone on my neck, awful, nameless things jangling as I maintained my brittle smile and ferried my guest back upstairs to my dining room and dug for the matches and lit the damned thing. 

And then it waited politely, pelts shifting and rustling as it literally pulled itself back together into something person-shaped and I made more soup. 

The candle sat in the middle of the table. I watched it burn down slowly as my guest tucked in, content and docile, and ignored the cold breeze blowing into my kitchen from my shattered back door. It made the flame dance. The smoke coiled about the lights and wreathed the room and filled my lungs until it finally left again, glass crunching beneath its hidden feet as it pulled aside the curtain and vanished back into the night. 

I didn’t try to hide the candle again. 

Call me a coward, but I… I shot the fucking thing and it didn’t even slow down. Where would I even aim if I wanted to shoot to kill? The skull? Would I try lighting it on fire? Flames would probably work, but. But I was scared. I was scared and I could still feel the ghost of its teeth and claws pressed tight to my skin. I had a feeling that if I set it aflame, it would drag me down with it, and I… I wasn’t at that point yet. 

I kept the candle in the window and my guest came by, again and again. It brought me gifts, you know? Old pelts. They’re beautifully preserved. Said it was only polite to bring gifts to such a hospitable host. 

And every time it visited, I watched the candle burn. Lower and lower. 

It’s just a nub now. Maybe enough for a single night. 

That’s… why I came now. 

It’s supposed to snow this weekend, you see… It’ll be too cold for it to leave, the snow too deep. 

I can’t turn it out into a night like that. It has such old, weary bones. 

It’d make me a terrible host. 

[luvyanfei]

how they comfort you when you’re sad

ft. diluc, kaeya, venti, childe, zhongli, albedo, & xiao non-requested piece 

diluc ragnvindr. 

as stoic as diluc may be, he’s the most emotionally affected by your misery out of the others listed here, but he’s clueless in how to help. he’s not adept in everything despite being known for being a perfectionist and unfortunately, comforting you is one of them. he would reach out a hand to you, and then pull it back to his side before you notice. it annoys him greatly how he can insult the knights without hesitation and combat against his enemies confidently, and yet...

it’s easy to get diluc flustered over the simpler things in life. you’re usually so happy and lively, the light to his dark that he finds it almost eerie to see you looking depressed as you enter the tavern. you don’t even spare him a glance, and slumps down at an empty seat, your head splayed down on the table. out of concern for your wellbeing, the winery owner whips up your favourite drink free of charge and delivers it himself to your spot. instead of leaving you as one would expect, he pulls up a chair and taps the wooden surface of the table with his gloved fingers, stirring you to look up at him. he greets you in a monotone voice unintentionally, and shyly asks if there are any problems going on in your life. he may not look like it, with how distant he is, but diluc would be very pleased to help you. 

with hesitation, you take the drink and start taking small sips from the cup. the savory taste melts on your tongue and your lips quiver slightly. before you know it, you’re reduced into a sobbing mess, your tears staining the floor. “what’s wrong?” dismayed, diluc rises up and pats your back, handing you a handkerchief from his jacket pocket for you to wipe your tears away with. 

he ushers you into a private room where nobody can see you and rubs your hands together. he doesn’t talk, instead fixating on calming you down. dabbing at your swollen eyes and cheeks gently with a drenched towel, diluc cradles your face and leans in close to you, your foreheads touching. “i’m here, [name],” his voice is soft and delicate, a sharp contrast to his formal and uninterested tone, “i will always be here for you, so you don’t need to worry about suffering alone. we’ll get through this together, alright?” 

kaeya alberich. 

he’ll take you to the tavern with him for a nice drink. it won’t do you any good to be by yourself and moping, right? as hypocritical as it may seem, kaeya is fully accepting of you coming to him for emotional support despite being rather closed-off when it comes to his personal emotions. if you’re underage, he’ll purchase you a soft drink or juice, and if not, a glass of wine will surely boost your spirits up. his attempt to cheer you up is to temporarily distract you from it. quite clever of him, no? of course, his objective isn’t for you to ignore your problems altogether, but to take your mind off of it until you can think a bit clearly. 

kaeya will act like a gentleman the whole time, letting a few teasing remarks slip out every now and then, but his attitude is toned down for the most part. after you consumed a plentiful amount of beverages, he takes a stroll with you in the night, passing by a bard stringing music on their lyre. this gives the cavalry captain an idea and he takes you into a secluded area, fireflies glowing to add a touch of whimsy to the scenario. still gripping your hand, he raises it up to kiss the surface and proposes you to join him in for a dance under the moonlight and stars. 

kaeya looks at you with a brimming grin. “are you feeling better now?” you nod, placing a hand on his open palm.

“now that you’re here, yes, i am.” his smile broadens and cups your cheek with his free hand. the tip of his thumb lightly grazes your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. the kiss is passionate and savory, a description that fits your relationship perfectly. 

“i’m glad you do,” he pulls back and breathes out a sigh of relief. “it’s the same with me. i admit, i also enjoy your company very much.” 

venti.

it’s best to let your emotions run loose. don’t bottle it up, okay? if you need to cry, then cry. sure, venti may act all carefree and exuberant, but even he has his serious sides from time to time. he takes the situation rather calmly, pulling you into a comforting embrace and rubbing your back as you tearfully sob. when he feels that you’re muscles have slowly relaxed and your cries have been reduced to tiny sniffles, he transitions out of the hug and places his hands on your shoulder, all with an angelic smile on his face. see, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?

if you’re up for it, venti will be happy to play you a quiet melody carried in the night breeze. he’ll position your head to lean on his shoulder as both of you sit down on the ground and he clears his throat before he begins singing. the stringing of the lyre, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the background, and the soothing sound of his voice automatically brings a smile to your lips. snuggling closer to him, you drift in a state of contentment and serenity. once the bard catches wind of your heavy breathing, your eyes fluttered closed, he stops his singing and presses a dainty kiss to your forehead. 

carefully, so he doesn’t disturb your slumber, venti carries you back to your resident and tucks you into bed. as he’s about to head off, you snag him by the wrist, and tug him back to your side. “please don’t go yet, venti.” he pats the hand imprisoning his wrist and chuckles in amusement. 

“don’t worry. i don’t plan on ever doing something like that.” he crawls into bed with you, tangling your legs together and hooking his arms around your waist. the tip of his nose grazes your hair faintly as your back is pressed against his chest. “not now, and not ever.” 

childe.

he’s the eleventh harbinger, yes, but beneath his fearsome title and mischievous demeanor, childe is a regular human with an affable heart. it hurts him seeing you look dejected, as if you’re on the brink of suffocating from insufferable pain. it’s like your emotions are a type of infection, contagious to say the least. if you’re happy, then he’s happy. if you’re sad, then you’ll bet he’s also going to drop his jovial gleam. luckily, growing up with siblings gives him an advantage here. he’s used to taking care of others and turning their frowns upside down. 

if he finds out someone has been upsetting you, he’ll personally deal with them himself, ordering them to apologize lest they want to face his wrath. if you’re having financial difficulties, he’ll lend you a generous amount of mora so you can clear your debts or help you find a well-paying job. either way, he’ll cradle you in his arms and compliment you for being strong, no matter what life throws at you. life’s hard, but that’s all the more reason why you should keep marching forward - hand in hand with childe.   

“shh, [name], it’s okay. don’t cry.” childe kneels before you and wipes away a salty tear. grabbing a teddy bear abandoned on the ground, he shoves it in front of your face. to your sudden bewilderment, he grabs the bear’s arm to pat you on the head and grins. “there, there. mr. teddy is here to make you happy once more.” 

you sputter out a giggle despite tears still leaking from your eyes. “childe, i’m not a little kid anymore. cut it out!” he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks when you pout cutely at him. 

“fine, fine. i’ll stop, but hey! at least you’re smiling again, right?” you roll your eyes and sniff. 

“yeah, i’m feeling a little better. thank you.”  

your comment forms a blush to dust his cheeks and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “there’s no need for gratitude. to me, your smile is the one thing i’d hate to lose.” 

zhongli.

feeling sad? his arms are already wide open and a box of tissues is conveniently laid on the table. zhongli is the wave that laps up your sorrows and tears, the lulling sound of his voice uttering words of reassurance like a tranquil melody to set your heart at ease. he’s the type who will lend a shoulder for you to cry on. while he brews up a nice cup of tea to soothe your mind, he encourages you gently to tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. he soaks up every syllable that falls from your lips like a sponge and in a pensive state, he gives you advice in turn. 

you take his words to heart, since everything he’s said before have always been genuine and your trust in him runs deeper than the bottom of the sea. sure, maybe not everything he says is the answer that will cause your problems disappear, but he does guide you to choose rationally how you want to approach it. as much as zhongli would like to solve everything for you, he’s aware that there are times where only you have the potential to fix the issue. 

the golden ginkgo leaves twirl in the autumn breeze, as zhongli clasps his hands with yours. you adjust the scarf around your neck, shivering from the mild chill settling in liyue. 

you stare grimly at the seagulls soaring in the cloudy sky, and peers down at your feet planted firmly on the ground. a frown tugs on your lips and you sigh. a warm hand caresses your cheek and you look towards zhongli smiling gently in your direction. wiping away the tears that are beginning to moist your eyes, he encages you in a comforting hug. 

“don’t hold it in,” zhongli whispers soothingly in your ear, “you’re allowed to cry if you want. i promise you, there’s no judgement.” 

albedo.

it’s like he has a sixth sense. you could have been crying in your sleep last night and the first thing you wake up to is all your favourite meals placed rigorously on a sliver tray and a positive message with cursive, neat handwriting scribbled on a notepad for you to read. albedo is rather considerate, like that. before you started to live together and entered a more domestic relationship, he visited your home and asked if anything was wrong in a neutral tone that belied his concern. you were shocked how he could have possibly known since you were sure you concealed the visible evidences skillfully with makeup, and you looked quite normal for the most part, as if you hadn’t been crying mere seconds before he knocked on your door. 

he shrugs indifferently and responds that he just has a feeling something’s bothering you. albedo will take a day off from his confinement in his lab so he can stay with you. he takes you by the hand and gestures for you to sit down on a nearby chair beside him, offering you delectable appetites to eat while you rant to him. once you’re finished spilling out your problems, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you that you did a good job. it isn’t easy to admit you’re not mentally well, in which he praises you for. 

hugging your legs to your chest, you quietly ask him if it’s not a bother. firmly, albedo shakes his head and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “no, you’re never a bother.” he scoops up a spoonful of ice cream and feeds you the cool dessert. once you swallow, his lips curve into a little smirk as he wipes away the excess on the side of your mouth with a finger and licks the cream off with his tongue. 

“whether you’re happy, sad, or disappointed, my love for you will never change.” 

xiao.

he’s not very good at handling these types of situations. xiao can never know what he’s supposed to say or do to make you feel better, so he just stands there awkwardly. please don’t blame him! he’s already terrible at consoling himself that having to cheer someone else up seems more like an impossible challenge than a simple task. however, like albedo, he can also sense if you’re depressed or in need of saving. what do you mortals call it, an instinct? 

he asks verr for advice on what to do to help, and she suggests for him to stick by your side and show that he cares deeply about you. it takes xiao a while to come up with a suitable plan. he wanders up to the highest floor of wangshu inn and reminisces over the past. your first meeting with him, the time when you gave him almond tofu, and when you both fought together to protect liyue - he’s memorized it all down to the last detail. suddenly, an idea clicks into place and he teleports immediately to where you are. sitting on a bench alone, while you absentmindedly watch the birds peck at the crumbs scattered on the cement floor, it takes you by surprise when you find xiao hovering above you. he reaches out his hand and composedly asks if you would be willing to accompany him for the night. 

when you encounter him at the location where you agreed to meet, you curiously question xiao what he wants to do, but he doesn’t reply. instead, he scoops you up in his arms, a surprised expression on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t end up falling. before you know it, both of you are... soaring in the air? your eyes subconsciously drift to his vision glowing brightly in the murky night. so he’s using his anemo abilities to create wind currents and literally sweep you off your feet. 

“do you see this place?” he gestures with his head for you to look at liyue harbor. the city lights glow in the darkness and most people are walking back home, idly chatting with each other and giggling. “it wouldn’t be as peaceful as it is now if it weren’t for you. so if you ever feel sad again, know that it’s you who puts a smile on everyone’s faces - including mine.” 

and with that, xiao smiles serenely at you, to which you finally offer a grin of your own. 

[vrishchikawrites]

Post-post-post cannon Wangxian being completely in love in the cloud recessess as teenagers who time travelled back to their own 16-17 year old bodies on accident.

In love. Wangxian are in love. In love. Just smooph and fluff.

Like they're effortlessly in love. (No matter how much Jiang Cheng yells and ties to control Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian casually refuses to hear any of it, as he'd been ignoring Jiang Cheng's homophobia and hate forever by the time they both came back by accident. )

Also wwx doesn't hide his genius and every one around him is like senpai *heart eyes* (honestly he's almost forgotten how to hide his effortless genius.)

(Just FYI, don't have to include this: this Wei Wuxian has long since come to terms with all his war and Sunshot and Shiji related trauma— just FYI.)

I just want to read as much of the smooph, smushy fluff and love you can stomach writing please.

Extra points if you can show them both just effortlessly and absentmindedly flirting.

(You don't have to incude this, but: They just take like a weekend off and go raze the main Wen family to the ground casually— back late with Starbucks— "We were night hunting. What do you mean the Wen family died? So sad. We feel so bad. Don't we feel bad?" " Mm. Feel bad.")

Thank you so much for existing in this fandom. I love your fics. I love you. 💖

Xichen is proud of his brother but he can't deny that he is sometimes concerned for him as well. Wangji is a dedicated and accomplished disciple but he is isolated from his peers. Xichen has friends and confidants but Wangji is simply content to be by himself.

That is concerning, even for a Lan.

He had hopes that incoming disciples would manage to shake him up a little but that hope didn't last long. Year after year, Wangji continued to remain aloof, not expressing any interest in the disciples.

But something has changed this year. Xichen didn't even know what was going on until a few weeks into the introduction of the guest disciples.

He spots them by chance. Young Master Wei is cheerfully waving at a vendor, his smile wide and bright, ensnaring the old woman's entire attention.

Wangji is right by him, Bichen in one hand but the other…

The other is placed on the small of Wei-gongzi's back.

Xichen watches as they move on from the vendor. He sees how Wangji seems to shield Wei-gongzi from the crowd, angling his body slightly to ensure his companion can walk freely.

It is a gesture of protectiveness. It is a gesture of possession.

Xichen studies their body language carefully. Wangji seems content to follow Wei-gongzi around, his expression closed but gentle. There are no frosty glares or pursed lips. His brother, for once, looks entirely relaxed. Everything about him is loose and easy underneath all of his Lan elegance. His shoulders slope gently, his spine isn't as rigid, and his walk is steady.

The First Jade has never seen his brother look so settled.

Wei Wuxian seems happy too, his smile incandescent and lovely. Almost as tall as Wangji, the boy is the very antithesis of his brother. While Wangji is sedate and content, Wei Wuxian is nearly bursting with energy and joy. His silver eyes sparkle in the sunlight and his long hair sways with every movement of his body.

Xichen's heart softens at the glimpse of such open beauty. There's certainly something alluring about Young Master Wei. He seems to suffuse his surroundings with happiness.

There's something in the air around them.

Despite his lively mind wandering from one stall to another, Wei-gongzi always finds his way back to Wangji, looking at him with a hopeful smile and a cheerful comment.

His brother's expression is unfamiliar to him. Wangji looks like his entire world is smiling up at him.

'Is this love?' He wonders to himself as he watches his brother gently pull Wei-gongzi out of a running child's way. He doesn't miss how the touch lingers, fingers curling slightly around the slender wrist before pulling away.

There are many eyes following Wangji and his friend, and all of them have indulgent expressions. The people of Caiyi town have seen Wangji since he was a child. They know him and his nature well enough.

Xichen suspects they're just as happy to see Wangji roaming the markets leisurely as a pretty butterfly flutters around him.

"Is that Lan Wangji?" Nei Mingjue observes, stepping up beside him.

Xichen nods, "And his friend, Wei Wuxian."

"Hm," his friend says, "I've been hearing that name a lot recently. They say the only reason Jin Zuxian beat him in the rankings is because of his looks."

Xichen chuckles at Mingjue's tone, "Ah, Da-ge, you must hate that."

His friend rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his tea. "How do looks matter when you're facing down Fierce Corpses?"

"From what shufu says, Young Master Wei is Wangji's equal in many ways." Shufu had been wary at first, wondering what sort of chaos the son of Cangse Sanren would bring to Cloud Recesses. So far, Wei Wuxian has proven to be a mischievous but brilliant student. "He challenges shufu in class. They end up having loud, angry debates," Xichen chuckles because he knows his uncle, despite all appearances, loves being stimulated, "He mentions the boy often." There's a comment about Wei Wuxian almost every time he has tea with his uncle.

He looks at the two younger master's thoughtfully, "I didn't expect this."

"Are they courting?" Nei Mingjue asks bluntly, "Because your little brother is acting like a husband already."

Xichen stills and looks at the pair again. That is what's off about their body language. They move around each other confidently, not like a young couple in fresh blooms of love.

There are no tentative glances, awkward touches, and hyperawareness. Wangji touches Wei Wuxian like it is his right. Like he is confident that his touch is welcome and desired.

For a moment, he feels a pang of worry. Xichen looks at Wei Wuxian, studying him carefully to see if there's any sign of strain or distress.

He finds nothing. Wei-gongzi responds to every gesture of affection like a flower blooming under the Sun.

"Ah." He realizes, "You think…?"

"Strong bonds form quickly between cultivators with matching potential." Nei Mingjue observes, "It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Your brother looks a little too enamored for this to be a teenage fancy."

Well, isn't this an interesting development?

---

"Your hair looks nice," Nie Huaisang says, hiding a smile behind his fan. Wei-xiong always looks good but there's something particularly radiant about him now. He seems to stand a bit taller, carry himself with a bit more confidence. His gestures seem stronger, somehow carrying more authority than before.

But the hair intrigues him. There's a glittering silver hairpiece in it and the strands of ebony are tied up in a neat style.

Neater than Wei-xiong's usual style. While Huaisang is certain Wei-xiong is perfectly capable of making himself as elegant as the Jades of Lan, he usually doesn't bother.

This was done by someone else's careful, loving, hand.

Jiang Yanli isn't at Cloud Recesses and Jiang Cheng would rather burn his own hands than show even an ounce of love towards his shixiong - something pricks when he thinks about that.

So there's someone else, someone willing to comb Wei-xiong's hair until every strand is glossy and straight, before tying it up with a silver and jade pin that looks expensive.

Wei-xiong is courting- no, he corrects himself, watching his friend wave enthusiastically at Lan Wangji, 'Wei-xiong is being courted.'

Wangji-xiong bows to his brother and walks towards Wei-xiong, his gaze softer than usual. His friend is smiling widely and immediately dissolves into excited chatter. Wangji-xiong doesn't seem bothered, just nodding occasionally and watching with indulgent patience.

There's something entirely lovely about the way Wangji-xiong's eyes remain fixed on Wei Wuxian's face. It is like nothing else is more important to him than Wei-xiong's smile and cheerful voice.

Standing together in the courtyard, both clad in white and glowing under the warm light of the morning sun, they look stunning. Huaisang's romantic heart sighs at the sight.

"What is he doing?" Jiang Wanyin hisses and Huaisang looks at him, startled by his icy tone, "I can't believe he's making a nuisance of himself again!"

"Jiang-gongzi-"

"Wei Wuxian! What are you doing, messing around?"

The loud voice catches almost everyone's attention. Wei-xiong looks over his shoulder and Wangji-xiong's expression turns frosty, all warmth draining from it immediately.

"Aiya, Jiang Cheng," Wei-xiong grins but it doesn't have that sheepish, placating quality that Huaisang had seen before, on those rare occasions he visited Lotus Pier with his da-ge. This grin was full of confidence and almost... dismissal. "Why are you angry now?"

Was that tone... mocking?

Huaisang's lips twitch as Jiang-gongzi swells further with rage, "Wei Wuxian! How can you be so shameless? Imposing yourself on Lan Wangji, always trying to distract him. Think of our sect's reputation for once!"

"Do not speak for me." Wangji-xiong's voice is icy and it cuts Jiang-gongzi's rant short immediately, "Wei Ying is free to seek me out whenever he wishes. No one may stop him."

And that seems to be that. Wei-xiong laughs and Wangji-xiong guides him away gently like he's someone delicate and not the strongest cultivator of their generation.

But, Huaisang muses, even strong people deserve gentleness.

---

"Da-shixiong! Show us that one again," A Jiang disciple demands and Wangji looks up from his work. He has clear sight of the training ground from where he's sitting. Wei Ying is standing in the middle, surrounded by a few Jiang and Lan disciples.

They're all looking at him in adoration.

Wangji feels a flood of amusement and sets his work aside, content to take a small break. It is always a treat to see his husband in his element; teaching people and nurturing young minds. They may be back in their teenage bodies, but their soul is much older.

Wei Ying, with his natural ability to charm juniors and his hard-earned wisdom, is the perfect teacher.

"It is amusing to see you so smitten," Wangji looks up to see his brother smiling at him, "Wei-gongzi must be very special, yes?"

His brother probably aims to fluster him, he is so fond of teasing Wangji. But Wangji had been Wei Ying's husband for more than a decade before an accident sent them back in time. He is no longer flustered or overwhelmed by his feelings. "Very special," He agrees, unable to help glancing back at his beloved, "Very lovely."

Xichen chuckles, "He is indeed lovely." His expression turns sly, "Do I need to speak with Uncle? Betrothal negotiations may be complicated in this case."

Wangji remains unphased, "You may," He says calmly, much to his brother's surprise, "Wei Ying will marry into the Lans. Give no concession to the Jiangs. He is just their Head Disciple, not the part of the family."

"Wangji," His brother breathes, "You're that invested?"

"Un. Will marry Wei Ying. Give him a better life. A life of dignity, freedom, and respect. Free of unnecessary debt that no one should foist on a child."

That is enough for Xichen to understand. His gaze turns solemn and he looks at Wei Ying carefully, "If that is what you wish, brother, you will have it."

---

Wangji feels his heart still when he steps into the library pavilion. He gazes at the scene before him, feeling the stiff formality of his expression melt away.

Wei Ying is beautiful, sitting there and reading peacefully. The evening sunlight envelopes him, giving him an ethereal glow. He traces his husband's features, feeling something akin to desperate love. It has been so since he saw this face and this body. Mo Xuanyu didn't lack beauty and Wei Ying's radiant personality had only added to it.

But this is Wei Ying's true body.

Helplessly drawn, he steps forward. "Xingan."

Wei Ying looks up, startled to hear such an endearment aloud. Immediately, his face is aglow with a pretty blush even as he laughs teasingly, "Lan Zhan! Don't be so bold!"

He walks towards Wei Ying and settles down by him, closer than truly appropriate but this is his husband. "Research?"

Wei Ying smiles, drawing Wangji's attention to his lips. There's no one in the library so Wangji permits himself the touch, reaching forward to gently caress them, "Such beauty." He whispers.

Wei Ying blushes again, "Er-gege," He protests, "Have mercy on my heart."

His fingers slide under Wei Ying's jaw, drawing him in gently. His husband is sweet and compliant as Wangji kisses him, an innocent brush of lips and nothing more. "My Wei Ying." His voice is low, heated in ways Wei Ying recognizes. He watches as those enchanting silver eyes brighten with passion.

His Wei Ying buries his warm face in his neck with a moan of protest, "Mercy, husband. You're so cruel to tease me like this when you can't take me to bed."

It is indeed a challenge to not have their 'everyday' but Wangji can be patient. Xiongzhang is already working on it.

For now, he is content.

They sit like that for a long time, Wei Ying leaning against him, trusting and calm. No one disturbs them and Xichen only stops by once, smiling knowingly in their direction and pointedly ignoring Wangji's restraining hand around Wei Ying's waist, stopping him from pulling away.

They spend the rest of the evening exchanging soft murmurs and softer kisses.

Nothing will stand in their way this time.

[captain039]

PART 2 My minds a maze

Oscar Isaac x reader

Warnings: Anxiety and depression, swearing, ABO, intimacy, comfort, mentions SH scars, DD/LG, sexual, eventual smut, talk about body and body image, body shaming, age gap, virgin reader

Last part <-

You enjoyed your warm shower and cake the night before, now you were exhausted and heading to set with sweats and a hoodie on, bed head in a bun, you did not care. You yawned every minute and wandered to the gathering office area, which was actually a kitchen.

“Ah there you are” the director said and you waved sitting down. They continued speaking, your eyes drooping shut, you had to force them open. The event was late at night and exhausted you from the people and the anxiety. You heard someone sit by you and hummed softly when an arm rested around your shoulders.

“You ok?” You heard May ask and you hummed again making her chuckle lightly. You sagged a little into her without realising, the comforting scent of a beta filling your nose. The meeting ended and you were finally able to stand and head back to the hotel.

“You doing ok there?” You heard Oscar by you.

“M tired” you stated and May and him laughed.

“Back to the hotel for you” May said a smile on her face. You felt comfortable being by their side, you walked closer to May than before and you relished in the scent of the alpha by you.

“I’ll text you later ok?” She said and you nodded giving her a quick hug before she went to her car.

“Did you walk here?” Oscar asked and you shook your head.

“I had a personal driver escort me” you said smirking, it sounded funny to say that.

“I said I’d message him when I was finished” you added looking to him. He was so handsome, messy curls and light stubble.

“So we start another shooting tomorrow?” You asked and he nodded.

“Wanted to redo a couple of scenes” he answered.

“Ah, I’m gonna be honest I was just trying to stay awake” you admitted and he chuckled.

“You had a big night” he said.

“Probably a Tuesday for you though?” You said feeling insecure. The other actors were holding it back well or weren’t tired at all. There would be more events, more public outings no doubt too, then it’ll be over and you won’t see him again. Your heart clenched suddenly at the thought, would you stay in touch? Catch up? How did this all work.

“I’m gonna call my driver” you muttered pulling out your phone.

He was on his way as you distanced yourself from the alpha. He was waiting for his driver too. Your hands were in your pockets, fiddling with the loose string in there.

“Y/n-“ Oscar started as your driver honked and pulled up.

“Yeah?” You asked and he smiled shaking his head.

“Get some rest ok?” He said and you nodded a little confused.

You sat on your bed just woken up from a nap. You were a bit dazed as a knock came. You stood and opened it seeing Oscar.

“Hi” You yawned.

“Did I wake you?“ he asked suddenly worried.

“No no I was just sitting there in a daze” you chuckled letting him in. You gulped at the mess around your room, you had the cake plate out from last night with crumbs on it, the dress flung over the couch in a bag, your underwear on the floor also.

“I uh-“ you gulped.

“This is fine” you rushed and quickly shuffled everything into a neat pile or in the sink.

“Totally fine” You said not realising the look on his face.

“I’m sorry” you said and he tilted his confused. He walked closer and you gulped a little cheeks flushed.

“Why’re you sorry?” He asked.

“The mess?” Tou said confused yourself.

“It doesn’t bother me” he smiled softly.

“Still, nobody wants to see dirty underwear on the floor” you mumbled embarrassed. You sighed leaning back against the wall cursing yourself silently.

“Stop cursing yourself” he said and you frowned thinking you said it out loud.

“You get this look when you do” he chuckled hands on his pockets.

“I do?” You flushed.

“Your eyebrows are slightly together and you stare intensely at something, you chew your cheek sometimes too” he said and you groaned.

“God, I’ve always had an expressive face and hated it!” You sighed.

“I mean it got me into acting, that’s besides the point!” You pushed off the wall arms crossed.

“I will have poker face” you calmed your face and looked neutrally the best you could.

“Better?” You said and he came closer. You frowned looking up to him as his hand rested on your cheek. Your eyes went wide and you stared blankly as your mind blacked.

“What?” You blurted and he chuckled making you embarrassed and look down to your feet. You heard him let out a shaky breath, hands resting on your arms as his forehead rested on yours.

Your mind was trying to reboot and restart, you were warm everywhere, his scent was everywhere. You dared to move but couldn’t frozen in place at his gentle touch. You looked up though found the courage to move your head. He moved slightly too, lifting his head so you could look at him. You tilted your head afraid to use your voice. You opened your mouth though, unsure of what to blurt, no noise came out though so you closed it again. You were having a hard time keeping eye contact, brown eyes staring at you. What was he doing? Well it was obvious, but what was he doing?!

“Alpha” you finally managed and he tensed, eyes darkening. His hand clenched your arm like he was struggling as he sighed and hung his head. You frowned worry filling you as he questioned silently. Your hands rested on his arms now holding his lower arm. He frowned looking to you and you gulped.

“What- I-“ you stuttered cursing yourself silently again as you stepped closer slightly and rested your head against his chest. You couldn’t work your mouth or brain, couldn’t form a proper thought without it tangling off into a million. His hand moved, cupped your cheek and made you lift your head up again. You felt like an idiot not knowing what to do in this situation. You glanced over his face, eyes lingering on his lips before he moved. Lips pressed against yours and you closed your eyes kissing back. You weren’t sure what to do but tried to follow, his hand moving from your arm to your hip while the other stayed on your face. You made a small noise pulling back to breathe. You were flushed, slowly opening your eyes and avoided his gaze.

“I’m sorry-“ before he could finish that sentence you pressed your lips to his again, arms wrapping around his neck. You pulled back panting again before you grew embarrassed again. You looked at his chest instead of his eyes again, feeling your hands shake against his neck. You smiled suddenly though feeling giddy inside at the feeling. You wrapped your arms around him again and burry your head in his neck. You hear him chuckle lightly as his arms wrap around you.

“Was that alright princess?” He asked and you flushed nodding.

Next part ->

[khizuo]

3 Reasons Why Captain Puffy’s Hero Arc is Necessary to the Dream SMP

(I’m just saying, if her hero arc ends up not taking off because of bad writing, I’m going to be so mad—)

So! These are points I’ve all seen made on Tumblr before, but I just thought that I would synthesize them into one meta post in order to spread my Puffy propaganda. I think Captain Puffy’s hero arc is deeply necessary to the SMP from a storytelling perspective, and I just want to explore the reasons why.

1. Captain Puffy counters the current 'all is hopeless’ angle of the SMP plot.

The SMP needs someone who is unequivocally good — a paragon, of sorts. The current story that the SMP tells seems to be one of constant defeat. From characters losing their homes to giant explosions, to characters falling into mental spirals as a result of cycles of abuse and neglect, the SMP has had an overall “all hurt no comfort” tone to it recently.

Now, if the Dream SMP was a story in a book or a movie or something, I might be fine with a sad ending. But it is not. The Dream SMP is a fundamentally interactive piece of media which has a large influence over a primarily young audience. It is also not a story which started out with an intent to go all “everything is dark and hopeless”. 

Time and time again, the SMP characters have picked themselves up from hopelessness. Time and time again. But it seems that post-Doomsday has seen most characters finally give into their spirals of negativity or become resigned to a status quo of violence and destruction. This makes sense for their characters; but from a storytelling standpoint, if the story of the SMP ended with everyone ultimately losing, the characters will never find a satisfying resolution. The conflict that they faced will just end up defeating them one and for all.

Captain Puffy is standing up to show that there can be another way. That the response to destruction can be hope and healing, not necessarily more destruction. It’s a much needed fresh take in the SMP’s current story.

2. Captain Puffy shows a trajectory of positive character growth.

Captain Puffy is pretty chaotic in her own right, and she initially joined the Greater Dream SMP because she liked the chaos it promised her. But after witnessing the destruction of L’manberg on Doomsday, as well as learning of Tommy and Tubbo’s internal pain, she has changed her priorities to wanting to honor L’manberg’s memory and make the SMP a better place.

I wouldn’t call that OOC of her, because since the beginning Puffy has shown great compassion to people she runs across on the SMP. From gifting Tubbo Beeinnit, to treating Niki well on their date, to viewing Dream as her little duckling, Puffy cares. It’s just that as a newcomer to the server, she was not truly aware of the prior tragedies of the server until Doomsday. 

Captain Puffy setting aside her connection to Dream and her innate wish for chaos in order to help pick up the pieces of the SMP shows character growth, in a trajectory that is looking up. (I do wish it could have been more explicitly conveyed, but I think that’s more a lack of lore streams and inclusion in the greater story from the writers.)

This relates to my previous point, but the SMP sorely needs someone whose character develops in a way that provides hope to its audience.

3. Captain Puffy is a point of connection between several different plots.

Puffy has her hand in several Dream SMP plots at the moment, and her hero arc has the potential to tie them all together in a neat way.

She’s one of Eret’s knights. She’s Niki’s girlfriend. She’s got a loose alliance with the Badlands and knows about the egg. She’s still got that former connection to Dream, who was once her little duckling. She cares for L’manberg’s memory and the kids it fucked over.

The SMP right now feels fractured in its storytelling, and if it can coalesce around Puffy’s hero arc, it can all tie together in a really natural way.

All I’m saying is: Puffy supremacy!

[ayyezhongli]

dom student council pres zhongli x troublemaker childe

Guess who’s back :D Back with some zhonchi smut for all u sinners. Note: Theres a lot of spelling errors bc when i wrote this i was telling it to a friend n they said i should post this n i’m too lazy to edit it so yeah! enjoy <3

summary kinda: child did something n is now stuck in detention with zhongli being a kinky president of the student council watching him.

so childe is bored asf n tries seducing zhongli. but childe has always had a crush on zhongli. thats why he misbehaves to get his attention.

so zhongli says “ur here again” n sighs

“yup did you miss me?! dont answer that bc ik you did”

n zhongli sighs again all annoyed n shit

“seems you never learn”

“maybe i’m jus here bc i love n want to see you everyday”

n zhongli taking that as sarcasm rolls his eyes

“i doubt that.”

and so for like 30mins childe is making all these noises to get zhongli’s attention and annoy him which it works. and zhongli having enough of it already decides that he needs to be punished. so he gets up n walks over to the desk childe is sitting at cups his face with his hand grinning

“u rly like to get on my nerves dont you~…..” and childe’s tryna contain himself

“is it working~?”

“idk pretty boy….wanna find out for urself~…..”

n zhongli is like inches away from childe’s face. n childe still keeping his composure decides to tease back hoping to get what he’s longed for for so long.

“idk do i~?….”

and zhongli leans in n jus as hes abt to kiss childe he pulls away and walks back over to the teachers desk and childe is really disappointed bc he thought he finally had it but jus lost it. so zhongli goes back to working on his paperwork while childe is just furious.

”Is this how u treat everyone?! tease them and leave them with nothing. take advantage of us!!”

n zhongli bursts out laughing putting his papers in a neat stack

”ur quite interesting childe, if i said it was jus u would that make u feel better??”

and childe huffs rolling his eyes still rly pissed off.

“did u want more? were you expecting something more from me? something else?”

n childe blushing looks away

“fuck off”

n zhongli gets mad at the response and pulls out one of those long ass rulers n gets up n starts walking to childe.

“thats no way to speak to the student council president. you need to be punished”

so zhongli sets the ruler aside still pissed asf

“get up.” childe ignores.

”get up right now.” childe still ignores.

so zhongli grabs the ruler smacking it against the desk childe is at.

“GET UP RIGHT NOW!”

n childe jumps a little and gets up

“ok ok chill”

so childe walks over to zhongli n stands in front of him.

“im gonna punish n force you into submission until u completely submit to me”

childe laughs

“no way. you really think u can do that? just try”

“oh i will. just watch me”

(a/n: in this fic childe has bright pink sensitive nipples bc ughh 😩🤌🏾 well both of them have bright pink nipples but zhonglis r rly sensitive.)

so zhongli turns childe around n starts grinding against him causing childe to moan ever so slightly.

“do u like that~?”

n childe tryna keep his composure laughs to cover up a moan. n zhongli looks down and grins seeing childe’s hard erection through his clothes.

so zhongli reaches down n starts palming childe causing slightly louder moans to come out of his mouth.

“your so hard for me childe….what a naughty slutty little boy~“

childe loses it bc zhongli is finally saying the things he’s been dreaming of him saying. so zhongli amused starts licking the shell of his ear biting and nibbling it which makes childe blush harder. so zhongli reaches his hand down into childe’s pants and boxers and wraps his hand around childe’s dick which he almost cums. so zhongli starts pumping him n not even 30s he throws his head back on zhonglis shoulder n cums letting out a loud moan

“fuck zhongli~…..”

zhongli smirks very amused

“so quick to cum~ do i rly turn u on that much~?”

n childe fights the urge to nod his head and submit. he’s not going down without a fight.

“no i was just pent up. why would i be for someone like you!!”

zhongli snickers and slides his hands up childes shirt n starts taking it off.

“not submitting yet i see~….”

“did u think it would be that easy asshole? ha!”

so zhongli turns childe around.

“you should just give up now! your not go-“

n zhongli interrupts him with a passionate kiss. a long deep one filled with sexual tension n desire. he leaves childe blushing like crazy and gasping for air.

“what was that? i didnt catch the last part, say that again.”

“i said that i’m never gonna sub-“

n zhongli interrupts him again. same thing happens like 2 more times until childe gives up.

“can u repeat that one more time?”

and childe looks away with a annoyed expression on his face

“glad that shut u up~”

so then zhongli looks childe up and down bites his lip causing childe to blush.

“you’re kinda cute…i think i can use u….”

n childe blushes more

“and these nipples….”

zhongli says while pinching them making childe arch his back and moan loudly.

“they look pink and innocent…but when i pinch n twist them like this…”

childe lets out n even louder moan with a face flushed even more n drool running down the side of his mouth

“….you make such naughty noises and that really turns me on.”

and so zhongli continues pinch n play with them and then starts marking his neck.

“what if i made u mine hmm? my little fuck toy? or how abt pet?? you could be of some use to me….”

and all childe can do is whimper. so zhongli has him bend over on the teachers desk and pulls down childe’s pants. and he like squeezes childes plump round ass and caresses it before grabbing the ruler and spanking him with it which causes childe to moan n cum immediately.

“ur such a slutty masochist”

n childe groans n is like stuttering his words

“w-w-well ur so fucking sadis-“

n zhongli spanks him not with the ruler this time but his hand n childe jus looses it.

“ready to submit….?”

n childe tryna keep the ounce of pride he has left shakes his head.

“no!”

zhongli spanks him again.

“how abt now?”

“No!”

n so zhongli gets an idea n sticks his fingers inside childe’s mouth.

“suck”

childe does so n a minute later zhongli pulls them out.

“what are you gonna d- ahh!”

and zhongli’s fingers are wiggling around inside childe tryna get him prepared. childe has just completely lost it. he’s drooling all over the desk, moaning so loudly that if there was people here they would be able to hear, clinging onto the edge of the desk like his life is on the line.

“f-fuck zhongli…ahhh”

he’s a panting slutty mess. a fee mins later zhongli pulls his fingers out n takes off his own pants and boxers lining himself up to childes entrance. he inserts only the tip of his dick causing childe to go even more crazy if thats even possible n moan so fucking loud. but its been long enough. he wants more. more of zhongli inside him. he wants all. all of zhongli inside him. so he whimpers n cries out zhongli’s name.

“whats the problem sweetheart?”

zhongli says grinning from ear to ear.

“pls..”

childe says desperately

“pls what?”

”pls zhongli i-….”

“you…? gotta tell me what u want otherwise i wont know.”

“pls i want more of u….!!”

“beg for more than.”

“Zhongli pls i want ur cock inside me so bad. pls i’ll do anything!! just fuck me already!!”

“anything…?”

zhongli says slipping half way inside him.

“y-y-yes just pls fuck me!!”

n zhongli, a very satisfied man jus starts pounding into him hitting his g spot every time.

“Fuck! fuck! fuck! FUCK! ZHONGLI PLS SLOW DOWN AHH~!!”

n that only makes zhongli speed up and childe cums like multiple times. after a while, giving a few last thrusts zhongli comes for the second time inside childe. and pulls out while childe just drops to the floor completely unable to move or anything. jus a panting blushing hot slutty mess with zhongli’s cum dripping out of him. all pride lost. pulling his pants and boxers back on zhongli lifts him up to his feet and bc childe has no strength he just falls onto zhongli resting his head on his shoulder.

“now that you’ve completely submit to me, ur all mine~….mine to do whatever i pls with. mine and only mine. No one else….”

and childe jus nods groaning bc of the pain.

”i hope u learned ur lesson now. unless…. you wanna comeback again for another visit…”

n childe jus groans again.

“i see the way you look at me childe….a look filled with lust and desire…its really quite a turn on~….. you look so desperately….so needy….so vulnerable…the amount of times i wanted to bend you over and fuck u so hard until you cant walk is too much to count. i wanted to make you mine so no one else could have that innocent slutty little boy who’s just oozing with sexual desire. any man or woman would get turned on n wanna have there way with you. u needed to be protected and only by me.”

so zhongli grinds his teeth bc of how possessive he is.

“so no one but me can fuck u stupid. and now that ur finally mine…i dont have to worry abt it so much as before”

n so zhongli strokes childe’s hair n plants a kiss on his head.

“you’re my precious little play thing.”

and childe, burying his face into zhongli’s chest smiles bc thats all he ever wanted. and then he looks up at zhongli as zhongli looks down at him smiling.

“zhongli…?”

”yes?”

“if all u said was true….why were u such an asshole to me. you were stricter on me than others, ruder to me than others, tougher on me then others….so why?”

“why?”

zhongli chuckles n childe nods

“to keep a good reputation, but i also wanted to push you, everytime u got angry and gave me attitude it only turned me on. which is why i kept going….does that answer ur question?”

n childe grunts

“u sadistic fuck!”

n zhongli laughs

“says the one who got turned on every time i public humiliated or yelled at you….”

“thats not true!!”

“uh-huh…the sexual energy u admit would become stronger and i could hear your breathing getting heavier with breathy tiny moans and u would always part ur lips slightly and rub ur thighs together and on top of that, ur eyes squint ever so slightly.”

childe was speechless bc this whole time he thought he was being slick.

“w-w-well that doesnt matter!”

childe said huffing and zhongli only chuckled and kissed his head.

“hey childe…”

“what!”

“i love you….”

childe was blushing like crazy. never in a million years did he think zhongli would say that.

“you can’t just go randomly saying those things?!!”

childe said burying his face deeper into zhonglis chest.

“b-but i love you too i guess…”

he mumbled and zhongli smirked.

“look at me.”

childe looked up into zhonglis ambers eyes embarrassed asf.

“wh-wh-what is it?”

“you’re really cute yk.”

n zhongli leaned down slightly and kissed him before he could say anything else. the end :)

thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed even though its formatted weird and kinda sorta a story. 🥰

[dokoni-mo]

She Truly Was || Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader

Summary: Enmu helps Muzan remember you.

SFW // Fluff with small amounts of Angst

Word Count: 4626

WARNINGS: *slight Mugen Train spoilers*, slight mentions of implied sexual activity, obsessive(?) behavior, Muzan is soft for one person only, some angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, I also barely proofread this lol

A/N: I've had this in my head for a while and decided to write it down. This is largely just a compilation of scenarios I made in my head to fall asleep at night when I was stressing over exams and stuff, all loosely thrown together with a plot. This is my first time writing for demon slayer, so please be patient! I also am basing a lot of my info about the characters on s1 of the anime, some of the manga, and the wiki. I apologize if something isn't accurate. tldr; I just think he's neat.

~~

Despite having lived through thousands of years with hundreds of stormy nights in the midst, Muzan Kibutsuji never learned to appreciate them.

Something about nights like those in Japan just never sat right with the demon. It wasn't that they were too dreary, not at all. Life as a demon was plenty dreary. On the other hand, it wasn't that they were to lively either. No one ever went out on stormy nights; demon or not. Perhaps it was just because the rain was another reminder of the singularity that was being a demon. The poignant pitter patter just seemed to have a way of whispering to whoever heard it, telling them the most unpleasant yet quiet truths of their lives.

After Muzan's bloody meeting with the lower moons, he had told Enmu his task Muzan had planned for the pitiful, weaker demon. Although he had doubts that Enmu could hear him over the sound of the weaker demon's screams of pain from the blood he gave, Muzan was pleasantly surprised when Enmu understood the orders the first time around. Seeing as though it would cause trouble if the lower moon started to go around bragging about his newfound power and job, Muzan decided it would be best to keep a crimson eye on the demon.

This is what led to the scene before Muzan now.

Muzan had taken Enmu back to one of his many properties scattered across Japan, this one being tucked away in a lush, quiet forest in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The lower moon had not said a word throughout the entire journey there, and still refused to say anything now. Most likely out of fear.

Although it had been a long day of wrangling the lesser worms he called pawns (or "moons" if he was generous), Muzan did not want to show any weakness towards Enmu by resting. To busy himself, Muzan decided to do the tedious work the humans have him do in the job he took to please his human wife.

That insufferable woman.

With his bowler hat placed on his desk, Muzan had taken a seat in his large, leather chair, ordering Enmu to stand at the edge of the desk and face the opposite way. And, for extra edge, he was not to say or do anything.

It had been about two hours since then. The room was filled with only the sounds of Muzan's writing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Although he ordered it to be that way, Muzan was already sick of it.

Peering his red eyes up from the papers scrawled below him, Muzan fixated his bone-chilling gaze upon the back of Enmu's head. Muzan could see the corners of the lower moon's mouth turned upwards as he faced the wall, presenting himself with an expression of dumb content.

Freak.

Enmu was definately a curious specimen. So eager to die, yet so eager to please Muzan. The demon lord would have been confused if he were not who he was.

Perhaps it was his own boredom setting in, perhaps it was because he wanted to feed his already gargantuan ego, or perhaps it was just because he was tired, Muzan decided to speak up.

"Tell me," Muzan said, his deep, smooth voice making Enmu perk up slightly, "Why is it that are you so loyal to me?"

Enmu took this as an opportunity to finally move, but not without some caution. The lower demon only turned his neck towards Muzan, along with a tilt of his shoulder. Muzan noted the disobedience of orders, but decided to let it slide this time.

The rain must have told him to be generous that night.

"Why, Master Kibustsuji," Enmu said, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, "It is because I am so delighted to be in your presence, and have my power be of service to you."

The demon lord felt his jaw clench at this, his red eyes peering up at the lower moon from under his abyssal lashes. Although Enmu had an... odd, way of putting things, Muzan always did like it when someone stroked his ego, even if all they ever said was the same banter over and over again. He was nearly perfection, afterall.

Muzan sat quietly and pondered Enmu's response for a second, before formulating his own.

"Your power, as you put it," Muzan said, his voice firm, "What is it?"

Enmu's grin widened, "Dream Manipulation, Master. I can enter, manipulate, or control anyone's dreams however I want to. I can use it to kill from the inside, eating a person spirit first and body second. I can also put people to sleep."

Muzan wasn't necessarily impressed by this, but he wasn't disappointed either. An ordinary power, really. Nothing that could ever rival his own.

However...

Muzan's gaze flickered down to the surface of his desk. A flicker of a long lost yet not forgotten feeling bubbled deep inside of his being. A mere spark of light, really, a piece of warmth he felt from long ago, lost to the wayside by the vestiges of time.

It was something Muzan thought he would never experience again.

Dream manipulation, huh?

It might be worth a try.

Muzan looked back up to Enmu, sharpening his gaze, "Tell me, are you able to give... pleasant dreams?"

Enmu was surprised to hear this come from Muzan to say the absolute least. He took this as another opportunity to disobey orders and turn to Muzan again, this time fully and whole-heartedly. The lower moon looked right into those blood red eyes, looking for any sign of a rare flicker of humor or joking.

Muzan's gaze was serious, poised as ever.

Muzan was being for real.

Taking a pause to swallow, Enmu allowed his soft smirk to return to his gray, pale face.

"Why," the lower moon retorted, "I can, Master, yes."

Muzan eyed the lesser demon for a good second at his response.

This move was risky. It could damage his image. Yet, if he was to do this with any of his pawns, he would do it with Enmu. Enmu seemed to have no intent on harming Muzan or his image in any way; he was far too loyal for that.

Besides, if someone were to question the might of Muzan, he could just prove them wrong.

Muzan leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together, wrapping them around his knee. His icy gaze still on Enmu, he spoke again.

"I wish to see a pleasant dream."

Muzan nearly rolled his eyes when he saw just how wide Enmu's grin had gotten and just how flushed his face got.

It was repulsive.

But, if it meant what Muzan thought it would mean...

It was worth stomaching.

After a breif moment used to compose himself, Enmu's smile faded to normal again. He pulled up the sleeves to his coat.

"I will give you a dream where you will experience the happiest days of your life over again, Master Kibutsuji," the lower moon stated, "Is this to your liking or would you prefer something else?"

"No," Muzan stated flatly, "That is fine."

Perfect, even.

Enmu smiled widely one last time, holding out his arm and pointing it at the demon lord.

"Sweet dreams, my lord." Was the last thing Muzan heard before falling into a deep, deep sleep.

~~

"Muzan..."

Despite his blood demon art being so much weaker than his, Muzan wasn't quite ready for just how Enmu put him into a dream like that. Muzan's headache had grown ten-fold now, and he could feel that his face was scrunched.

"Muzan..."

Slowly but surely regaining his full consciousness, Muzan could first feel that he was in different clothes than what he had been wearing before. These ones were lighter, softer, and much more airy than his normal suit. Squinting open his crimson eyes, he saw that he was in what appeared to be a long, dark, flowing kimono.

The second thing Muzan could feel was that it was rather cool where he was, and that he appeared to be lying on the ground. Sifting his weight slowly, he could then feel that his head was lain upon what felt like two soft, plush pillows firmly squished together.

The third thing, however, took him a little longer to discern quite that it was. At first, he thought it was a pair of chopsticks running across his scalp over and over again. Upon, further thought, however, Muzan was further snapped back into awareness.

Those were not chopsticks.

Those were fingers.

All too familiar fingers.

"Muzan..!"

Muzan felt a stir deep down inside of him. He recognized this feeling, this touch, this warmth. It had been so, so long since he had felt like this. How long was it again? It had to be an eternity ago. An eternity wrapped within all time time in the world.

Muzan was speechless. Muzan couldn't move. Muzan was struck from deep within, and nothing in the world could ever compare to its blow.

"Muzan!"

Although the calling of the demon's lord name had been going on for some time now, he was just now able to respond.

Tilting his chin upwards towards the voice's source, Muzan nearly fell to bits right then and there. If he was someone else, he would have wept deep, earnest tears at the very sight of the being above him. For everything and nothing surrounded him as he studied the bright, radiant face above him, and nothing else seemed to exist other than that smile.

Other than her.

Her.

Oh, her, her, her.

His beloved. His sun, moon and stars. The ground beneath his feet and the air around him. His joy and love, his woes and sorrow. His fears and excitement. His warmth and his cold.

You.

You were really here.

"I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up," you said, a faint laugh behind your voice, "You were out for so long!"

This scene was all too familiar to Muzan. He had replayed it in his head countless times, as if it were the only record left in the world.

He knew what this day was, and he knew all of your lines.

How could he ever forget?

Every moment he had ever spent with you had been a blessing.

Right now, his head was cradled in your lap, your soft, delicate fingers combing through his hair oh so gently as he had slept. It was deep into the night, and ordinarily Muzan would not be sleeping at this time. However, your touch was just so relaxing to him.

Everything about you was.

Today, you and him had spent the night wandering through the garden of your home together, chatting about anything and everything. It was only about two months into your relationship with Muzan. Muzan had first come to your home with the intention of eating everyone within the residence, but once he saw your face, watched you, saw your heart, your spirit, your you, he just couldn't.

He just...

couldn't.

You were human, yes.

But Muzan didn't care.

He was in love with you.

Muzan had yet to tell you the truth about him, however.

But that could come later.

"Muzan, are you alright?" He heard your voice echo again, snapping him out of his trance. He saw your face painted with worry, making his own features soften.

His darling angel. If only you knew just how much it pained him to see you with anything other than a smile.

Muzan reached his hand upwards, steadily maneuvering his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your warm cheek. He was shocked at how real you felt, shocked at just how similar it felt to all those years ago.

Perhaps Muzan had to give Enmu a reward.

The demon lord caressed your cheek gingerly with his cold, calloused thumb, savoring in just how warm your flesh was compared to his. For the first time in what felt like eons, Muzan felt a smile adorn his handsome features. Not one put on just to appease the humans around him, but genuine. The type of smile only you got to see.

Only you.

"I'm more than alright, my darling." He responded, his voice soft and warm, without the normal venom he gives to his subordinates. A voice reserved restrictively for you.

Finally, you let a soft grin come over your heavenly face again, making all seven of Muzan's hearts swell.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said, "But it's about to be dawn soon. I don't want you to get a burn, so let's go in the house again, okay?"

Ah yes, the lie Muzan told you. He, of course, couldn't be with you in the sunlight (as much as he wanted to). So he had told you that he had a rare disorder that made him extra prone to sunburns and heatstroke.

Just something to keep you safe from the truth.

His soft smile still adorning his features, Muzan gave you a nod as he slid his head off of your lap. Since you were on your knees, you were quicker to stand than him. Brushing off your kimono quickly, you offered one of your hands to Muzan to help him stand, of which he gladly took. He had long since forgotted just how perfectly your hand fit into his, along with how radiant your kimono made you look.

Once he was back on his feet, Muzan couldn't help but to hold your arms, holding you a few feet away from him to simply admire you for a moment, his crimson eyes doing laps around your face and body.

You were perfect to him.

Every single thing about you was without flaw in his eyes. Not one curve of your body was too shallow or too wide. Not one strand of your hair was misplaced or without poise. Not one feature on your face took away from your radiant beauty. And you had not one bad bone inside of your body.

Muzan was never one to believe in angels.

However, if anyone in any part of the world were to tell him that you were one of them, straight from the heavens themselves,

He would believe them.

~~

As soon as Muzan stepped through the door, his hand in your own, the scene before him changed in one giant, peaceful flash of white light.

Before him now was no longer the house that he had shared with you all those years ago. Now, in its place, was a beautiful, lush springtime garden, all dredged under the cover of the night. It was not devoid of light, however. There were a few lanterns afloat in the water of the stream, as well as some within the structure of the small bridge that went over top of it. Flowers adorned every nook and cranny of the space, and the occasional insect or bird would make a brief appearance.

A small slice of paradise, just for you and Muzan Kibutsuji.

Fearing that you were no longer by his side, Muzan turned his head. His fears were quickly subsided when he saw you there next to him. Your delicate hands were placed on the railing of the bridge, and your eyes were fixated on the calm water below, almost as if it were a window into the heavens above. There was a small smile plastered on your face, and the delicate lights illuminated each of your features so perfectly.

Muzan knew this night.

This was the night he told you the truth.

The truth about him, about his "condition", about where he went for days on end, about why he couldn't walk with you in the sun, about everything.

This was the one night Muzan had ever felt fear.

"Is it really true, Muzan?" You asked, your gaze still fixated on the water below, "Are you really a demon?"

Muzan felt his lips part in small surprise. Even though he had replayed this night time and time again in his mind, it felt as if this were all happening for the first time over again.

Enmu really was good at this.

Muzan wet his lips before responding, setting his gaze on your precious, beautiful face and refusing to move it, "Yes, my love. It is true. I would not lie to you about this, I..."

A pause to collect this thoughts, before he could continue, "I kept it from you to protect you, (Y/N). I did not want any harm to come to you. My darling, I... I love you. My love for you knows no bounds. You are the stars that shine at night, and you are the shining moon above. Each time I look upon you, all I can stand to think of is how deep my love for you runs. I... I need you, (Y/N). I do not wish for you to be frightened of me, my angel. I would never, not ever harm you, nor let any harm come to you."

You still weren't looking at Muzan, yet your smile had yet to falter. Muzan felt a bubble of nervousness in his gut. Although he knew your response to his words already, even thinking of this moment never failed to make his stomach churn. He hoped his words to you were enough. He doubted that he had ever said anything more truthful in his entire life.

After a long pause of silence between the two of you, you closed your eyes and widened your smile. Then, you opened your eyes again, finally turning to face your lover. You looked Muzan right in the eyes, seemingly unfazed that you were standing so dangerously close to the most powerful being alive.

You were so brave.

Your heart was so big.

Muzan felt so overwhelmed.

"Muzan," you said, your cheeks dusting a light pink.

What you said next to him, Muzan could never get out of his head, never forget. No matter how much he tried, he would never not ever forget your words in that moment.

Within that one short, simple phrase, the king of demons fell in love all over again.

"I've always known."

~~

Another flash within his crimson eyes, and the scene had changed again. Nighttime again, of course, but this time within the confines of the bedroom you and Muzan shared. Both you and Muzan were nude, sans the blanket that covered the lower half of your forms. Muzan was on his back, one strong arm wrapped around you, the other cradling the back of his head. Your legs were intertwined with his, and your hair and hands were sprawled out on top of his lean, muscular chest.

Muzan knew this night as well.

It was his most loved night with you, but also his most dreaded.

How cruel fate was.

Stroking your back with the tips of his fingers, Muzan stared up at the ceiling above the two of you. Your body was flush against his, and as warm as ever. He wondered to himself if he was making you cold. If he was, you didn't seem to mind.

After a long period of savoring the silence between you and him, you softly snorted out a cute, soft giggle. This made Muzan angle his chin downward to look at the top of your head.

"What is it?" He questioned.

You giggled again, tilting your head up to look at him. Smiling, you turned your body to lay on top of the demon king, your breasts smushing against his own. Instinctively, Muzan laid his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles into them as he held you in place.

"I just find it funny that even though you profess to have so much stamina, you get tired after only two rounds." You explained to him, a playful mischievousness in your tone and eyes.

Muzan breathed out a smile, reaching up a clawed hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"As I recall it, you were the one complaining it was too much." He quipped back.

You snorted, "As if that ever stopped you before."

The demon let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Muzan couldn't remember ever laughing so genuinely before you came along. You truly were the light of his life. You filled his days with the sunlight he had long since forgotten, as well with the warmth no other demon could ever have.

He loved you.

He loved you he loved you he loved you.

And he still did.

He watched as you dropped your gaze to his chest, running your fingers along the flesh.

"Muzan..." you said, your voice more serious than before, "I've been thinking a lot lately..."

The demon king hummed, brushing more hair from your face.

"What has been on your mind, my love?" He asked.

You paused for a second before continuing on. Muzan could practically see the gears turning in your head.

"Well, I... I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I've been thinking. I... I really love you, Muzan. You're the only person I can imagine myself being with for the rest of my life. The other day, I was in town, and I saw the cutest family ever with a husband and a wife and two adorable little children, and it made me think..."

You looked up at him again, giving him a soft smile.

"What if we were to have a family of our own?"

Muzan could feel the same sense of joy, love, and pride in his chest as he did this same moment all those years ago. In this moment, he had never felt closer to you before, nor could you recall ever looking more beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to be a family with you for the rest of eternity.

"Darling, you know what that would mean, correct?" He questioned you. He had told you long before that demons could only have offspring with other demons, for a demon baby would eat its human mother from the inside and kill her. It was gruesome, and had originally made you cringe at the thought. Muzan had thought your reaction was quite cute.

"Yes, yes, I know," you answered, "and I'd be ready for it. Even if I'm a demon, and even if I can never go out in the sun again or live normally ever again, I'd be happy knowing I got to be with you and our baby for the rest of time."

Muzan gave you a smile in return, his long, white fangs flashing in the light of the night. Leaning forward, he kissed you upon your soft, warms lips, gently pulling you closer to him.

This was one of the thousands of reasons why he loved you.

You were always so sweet, so kind and optimistic. He would admit, he did have a soft spot for you and you alone. But he didn't care. You were worth it. You were worth every single piece of money on planet earth. You were worth the sun the moon and the stars, and all the planets here and beyond. You were worth any injury, any heartache, and any trial or tribulation in the world.

The king of the demons unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, adored you.

Pulling gently away from the kiss, Muzan looked deep into your eyes, right past your pupils and looked right into your soul, your very being.

"I would want nothing more, my sunlight."

If Muzan could turn back the hands of time, he would have kept you here with him for the rest of everything and beyond.

For he did not know then that was the last kiss you and him would share.

~~

Another flash, and Muzan was no longer greeted with a visage of the past. Much to his dismay, the demon was now greeted with the sight of his office, with a smiling Enmu creepily watching him from across his desk.

What a fucking freakshow.

Taking in a breath of air through his nose, Muzan sat up tall in his chair again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with this thumb and pointer finger.

You were gone again. You were again nothing up a memory, a whisper of a time from the past.

Muzan could hardly bare it.

He had felt you, held you near him.

And just as fast as you came back, you were gone again.

This was a pain almost too hard to bear.

How long was he asleep for? Muzan really didn't care how long it was.

No amount of time with you was enough.

"Did you have the pleasant dream you wished for, Master?" Enmu asked the demon king. The lesser moon was lucky Muzan was in a somewhat good mood that day.

"Yes." Muzan replied simply, closing his eyes to rub them with his thumb, "Excellent work."

Enmu's smile widened at this, his cheeks turning pink again.

"Why, thank you, Master." He responded, his excitement prevalent in his voice.

Enmu really was a special one.

After composing himself again, Muzan scooted his chair forward up to his desk, fixing his gaze back onto his work sprawled out below.

Muzan just wanted to be alone again after that. He had been alone for years now, but he wanted Enmu out of the room. Although he could have easily ordered it to be so, he again did not want to show any weakness to the lower moon.

Christ on a bike. Muzan was so fucking stubborn.

He remembered all the times you nagged him for it.

Oh, what he would give to have you nag him one last time.

After a long bout of silence, the lesser demon decided to speak up again. He turned his head over his shoulder again to Muzan, trying to sound as naieve and innocent as possible.

"Master," Enmu said, "Where is she now?"

Muzan stopped his movements and glared up at Enmu with a venomous glare. How dare he even refer to you. You were so far above him, how dare Enmu even think to invoke your name.

Though Muzan wanted to kill the other demon right on the spot, he decided against it. He still wanted to see how Enmu would do on his mission. Also, Muzan had to admit that he did feel lighter and more generous after his dream with you. And he supposed it was fair that Enmu had his questions.

Feeling nice, Muzan decided to entertain Enmu's question.

Shifting his gaze back to the papers below, Muzan replied.

"Gone." he said, "The night she asked about a family was the last night I saw her alive. The next day, a group of slayers found her and our house. They knew who she was and that she was human, but killed her anyway. All in attempt to get to me. I found her in a pool of her own blood, limp and cold. The slayers died that same night."

Enmu's smile faded at this, his face taking on a look of shock. Closing his lips into a tight line, Enmu looked away, out of a quiet unconscious respect. Everything made so much more sense to Enmu now. Why the demon king was the way he was, his hatred for slayers, his cold-hearted, murderous nature.

It all clicked into place.

"I... I am sorry for your loss, Master." He said, his voice quieter than normal, "She seemed like a lovely woman."

Muzan peered up at the back of Enmu's head. Through his thick, black lashes.

"Yes..." Muzan said.

"She truly was."

[dickwheelie]

i dunno how loose the prompts can be but 👉👈something with jonmartin and martin having tattoos would be fun?

martin tattoos!! I loved this prompt, thank u Moss :)

_____________

"I'm thinking of getting another one," Martin said pensively, spearing a forkful of salad.

Jon glanced up at him from across the kitchen table. "Another . . . ?"

"Another tattoo," Martin said.

"Ahh."

Martin pointed down at his forearm. "There's an empty spot here that's been bothering me. I've got the Keats quote on my wrist, but nothing on the opposite side. It feels unbalanced."

Jon would never say it aloud, but he'd never quite understood Martin's need to cover every available inch of himself with permanent illustrations. Still, he couldn't complain; it had been a privilege and a joy to see Martin's skin transform into colorful, intricate designs over the course of the past few years, ever since they'd arrived in this Other Place. It had started with orchids on his left shoulder, and then a labyrinthine maze on his upper back, and then a quote from a poet Jon could no longer remember the name of along the side of his ribcage, and after that Jon had lost track. For a while, Martin had gotten tattoos almost at a fever pitch, as though trying to race himself to some finish line, which Jon supposed must be the entirety of the upper half of his body being turned into a sketchbook. He'd settled down a bit, now; he hadn't gotten a new tattoo in months. But Jon supposed that was about to change.

"What are you planning on putting there?" Jon asked, gesturing at the blank spot on Martin's arm, which was bordered by a black-and-white illustration of a lighthouse, its beam cutting through a night sky.

"I'm not sure yet," Martin said. "I've finished up with all the fears, by now." That had been one of Martin's major projects; he'd wanted to get a representation of every fear they'd faced and defied somewhere on his body. Jon, once again, didn't pretend to understand his reasoning, but he'd supported him nonetheless, and the day Martin had finally gotten the Lonely tattoo done, they'd celebrated together. "Any suggestions?" Martin asked him.

Jon chewed his dinner thoughtfully. He couldn't think of anything clever, so he said jokingly, "You should get my name tattooed on you. I know we promised we'd stay together, but if anything will make sure that'll happen, it's that."

Martin didn't laugh, which wasn't entirely surprising; Jon knew his and Martin's senses of humor didn't always click. What was surprising was the look he gave Jon, which was part confusion and part amusement.

"What?" Jon said with his mouth full.

"Jon," Martin said slowly, "I do have your name tattooed on me."

Jon's eyes went wide. "What?"

Now Martin did laugh. "It was one of the first ones I got done! I can't believe you didn't notice--"

"Wh--I--You were getting so many of them, in the beginning, I couldn't keep track!" Jon dropped his fork. "Stop laughing!"

Martin wiped a tear from his eye. "I can't, Jon, you're hilarious--"

"You should have told me, I can't be expected to--This is just the sort of thing you should've told me about, Martin!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd mind!"

"Of course I'd mind!" Jon didn't know what to think. They weren't the sort of couple that got tattoos of one another's names. Or were they? "Where . . . where is it?" He almost dreaded to ask.

Martin, having composed himself a bit, set about unbuttoning his shirt.

"I don't like where this is going," Jon intoned.

"Relax," Martin said, "it's not what you think."

"Really? Because it seems like it's exactly what I think. Which is that my boyfriend got my name tattooed on his chest without telling me."

"Oh, right. I guess it is what you think, then." Martin had finished unbuttoning the top half of his shirt, and moved the fabric aside to reveal the upper left side of his chest, which was covered in numerous colorful designs. Jon squinted, but couldn't make out anything specific, so he got up and moved to stand next to Martin, leaning down to inspect his chest.

"It's just here," Martin said, pointing, and indeed it was. In a little empty pocket of skin, just above Martin's heart, was Jon's full name, printed in tiny, neat script that Jon recognized as his own. The design was tasteful, and minimalist, the letters raised just enough to be noticeable if one ran their finger across it. By now the words had faded into Martin's skin, nestled there between his freckles, and they looked right at home.

Jon was quiet for perhaps a moment too long, because Martin said, "You're not really angry, are you? I really didn't think you'd care one way or the other. You were always so casual about the other ones."

"No," Jon said at last, "I'm not really angry. It's . . ." He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "It's just . . . that's my name."

Martin smiled up at him. "It is."

"On your skin."

"Mm-hm."

"Forever."

"Or until we have a horrible break-up and I have to laser it off," Martin said, and Jon shot him a look. "Kidding." He leaned up and kissed Jon's cheek. "I didn't get this as a promise not to leave you. I'm never doing that, tattoo or no."

Jon smiled behind his hand. "So why did you get it, then?" he asked, pulling up his chair to sit.

"You know how you used to call me your reason?" Martin said. "It's sort of like that. It's a way to remind myself that I've got you. No matter what happens, you'll be with me. We're sticking together." He patted the name on his chest. "That's why."

"Ah," Jon said, his voice thick. "Makes sense."

Martin gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm not getting it removed."

"I know that," Jon said, and Martin grinned. As he started to button his shirt back up, Jon said, "You still are, you know."

Martin glanced up distractedly. "Still what?"

"My reason," Jon murmured, and Martin's hands stilled on the last button. "You said I used to call you that. Which, yes, I suppose I don't say it as much anymore. But it's still true. Always has been."

Martin stared at him for a moment, and then leaned suddenly forward, taking hold of the sides of Jon's face and kissing him within an inch of his life. "You romantic little shit," he said when they pulled apart, and Jon laughed, holding onto Martin's shoulders as he peppered Jon's face with more kisses.

"I'm not the romantic one," Jon said. "Who has whose name tattooed on whose chest now?"

"Alright," Martin conceded, "we'll call it even."

There was a moment of tired, pleasant silence.

"Wait," Jon said, remembering, "we still haven't decided about your new tattoo."

"Oh, right, that," Martin said. He waved a dismissive hand. "I'll just get another Keats quote. Or maybe Oscar Wilde. Change it up a bit." He glanced sidelong at Jon. "Or maybe I'll get the words His Reason done in a certain someone's handwriting--"

"Not on your life," Jon deadpanned, but he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face when Martin laughed.