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surielstea · 1 month

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Paranoid Parent

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s scared of a microwave— and other things that might harm his pregnant wife.

Warnings: Drabble , pure fluff

1.2k words

Azriel has always been a light sleeper. But ever since you've been pregnant you were sure the male was entirely nocturnal.

Especially now that you've reached the third trimester. You'd get up to use the bathroom and find his side of the bed empty, on nights when you had the energy you'd venture through the house and usually find him in his office, always hunched over a book or his computer, glasses hanging off the tip of his nose as he stares at you with pure and utter concern.

Tonight, however, Azriel had slept the entire night. His large arm snaked around your waist to have his hand on your stomach protectively, your own hand atop his. His touch always made the baby relax, the kicking would cease whenever his warm hand cradled you.

However, that didn't stop you from having to use the bathroom every ten minutes. You released a silent groan, cursing Azriel for giving you twins as you clambered from the warm bed, from Azriel's open arms— and trudged toward the bathing chambers.

After exiting the restroom you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon, indicating the time. You released a long, frustrated breath— knowing you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

You look to Azriel, who was soundly asleep. You wondered how you didn't wake him up when shifting beneath him, supposing he took a sleeping medication of some sort.

You decide not to bother him and exit your spare bedroom. You walk past the nursery painted in a soft, pastel purple with two wooden cribs pushed against the wall. You were nervous about having twins— but Azriel, ever the researcher, seemed beyond anxious. Which oddly put you at ease, every insane thought he had left you saying, "It's fine, there's nothing to worry about." Which helped the both of you.

You walked into the kitchen, craving something spicy. You gnawed at your bottom lip as you searched the pantry for anything with some sort of tang. After about three minutes of scrounging, you found a bag of forgotten chips in the back. You smiled giddily, exiting the pantry as you opened the bag and kicked the pantry door shut behind you, deciding you wouldn't need to put this bag back by the time you were done with it.

You stuffed your mouth with the delectable chips, groaning in pleasure audibly because it's everything you craved at the moment.

Azriel's hand roamed your empty space, finding only warm sheets in your absence. He pats the space like he doesn't quite believe you're not there. When the realization hits him he springs up, eyes widening as he stares at your ruffled sheets. He didn't waste time in getting up, springing from the bed, eyes analyzing every crack and crevice of the wall like you've somehow disappeared into one of them.

He strides out of the room, his steps rushed as he pads down the hall.

He skids to a stop when he spots you in the kitchen, heating a pot of coffee in the microwave.

He releases a sigh of relief and walks towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You jump at the sudden contact, not hearing your husband enter the room. "You're so quiet, detective," You hum and he murmurs something softly into your shoulder but it’s inaudible. You turn around to look up at him. "Come back to bed." He pouts and a smile spreads over your features. "I can't sleep," You shrug. "You need your rest." His brows crease worriedly and you place your hands on his fidgeting ones. "I'll take a nap in a few hours." You reassure and all he can do is nod in reply.

You pivot on your heel, reaching for the bag of chips. "You want one?" You turn toward the male, offering him a chip. His eyes widen and he goes ghostly white. "How much of these have you eaten?" He grabs the entire bag from you and your brows crease. "Uh," you look down at the bag. "Most of them." You shrug and he frowns, clearly panicked. "Should I not have or something?" You tilt your head. "It's just— I read this thing about how spicy foods might result in blinding the babies." He murmurs and a giggle bubbles from my chest. "What's funny?" He blinks and you shake your head in disbelief. "You read too much," you murmur, reaching for the bag and he swerves, not letting you have it. "Az c'mon," you sigh, your hand coming to your stomach reflectively. "I promise whatever you've been reading is a myth," you reassure, reaching for the bag again, and this time he lets you have it. "What happened to my husband?" You bring a hand to his cheek. "My very skeptical husband." You correct and he frowns. "I just want everything to go well," He explains and you give him a saddened smile. "It won't be perfect, but everything will be fine if you stay by me, okay?" You rub your thumb along his sharp cheekbone and he releases a sigh with a nod.

The microwave beeps and you turn away from him, reaching toward the handle of the microwave before he grabs your hand. "Wait," He calls and your brows crease, before your shoulders slump and you realize what he's so paranoid over. "Az, c’mon." You sigh, craning your neck to look back at him tiredly. “Well, sometimes, microwaves can leak radiation.” He lets go of your hand and scratches his arm nervously. You square your features, staring directly at him. “I won’t explode if I open this, I promise.” You place your free hand on his bicep. You open the door of the microwave and he flinches, but nothing else happens.

A small smile comes to your face, both hands coming to his cheeks as you release a soft chuckle. “Why are you so worried Az?” You rub the tops of his cheeks with your thumbs. “You’re too smart to believe in any of this stuff.” You drone and he sighs. “I just worry,” He shrugs and you shake my head, rising onto the tips of your toes, and press a kiss to his lips, which he reciprocates by dipping down, hands coming to my jaw.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, my forehead pressing against his. “It’s alright, okay?” Your hands come to his and you lean into his touch, showing him that you’re just fine. “Okay.” He nods with creased brows. A smile curves your lips and you press a kiss to his lips again, before backing away as quick as you came. “You’re so protective.” You roll your eyes and back away from his hold— which he reluctantly lets you go from. You reach into the chip bag and pop a few into your mouth. “I promise the flavor dust won’t kill me,” you mumble, licking your fingers clean. “The seasoning?” He tilts his head with an inquisitive look and you pale, removing your thumb pad from your mouth and nodding. A genuine smile breaks out across his features, mirroring your own.

“I love you,” He says incredulously, pulling you into his big arms and peppering your face with kisses as you fight him off.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings@lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp

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montereybayaquarium · 1 year

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It’s hard to have a bad day when you’re looking at a swell shark! Swell sharks are nocturnal, spending their days snoozing in rocky crevices. Their name comes from their ability to inflate their bodies like little water balloons to keep predators from dislodging them.

Sweet little shark face, inflatable balloon body, and snoozes during the day—what’s not to love?

#monterey bay aquarium #shark loaf #behold the boopable snoot #alls swell that ends swell

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typhlonectes · 11 months

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The Ringtail (Bassariscus astutus)

AKA “Ringtail Cat”

If there’s one thing you should know about the Ringtail cat, it’s that they are not a cat! In fact, they are a member of the raccoon family.

Their similar features to a feline earn them a few other names including miner’s cat and civet cat. Despite these misconceptions, the Ringtail is named for its tail, which is long, ringed and bushy.

Native to the southwest US and Mexico, these mysterious mammals are nocturnal and have many adaptations to help them survive at night. Their large, round eyes help them see in complete darkness and their big ears allow them to hear the slightest sounds. They can also maneuver along cliffs and between small openings and cracks, while descending headfirst by rotating their hind feet 180 degrees. With the help of their tail, they’re able to balance and climb.

When they’re not active and out hunting, they are most likely sleeping in their den which can include hollow trees, rock crevices and abandoned burrows from other animals.

They may also be hiding from predators like coyotes, bobcats, and great horned owls. As an omnivore, they eat a variety of foods, though they tend to prefer meat. Insects, mice, lizards, snakes, scorpions, fruit and plants make up a typical diet. As a result, they play an important role in the ecosystem by maintaining balance in these prey populations and aiding in seed dispersal.

via: Zion National Park - Utah, USA

#animals #nature #north america #procyonid #mammal #ringtail

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tragedybunny · 2 months

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A Little Visitor

༺Summary༻

It started as a typical evening for Serafina and Astarion on their journey throughout Faerûn. Tonight, though, Serafina is surprised by a furry little visitor to their camp, who might be more than he seems.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings / Tags༻ No warnings, just fluffy fun!

༺Word Count༻ 1691

༺A/N༻

The is for the lovely @icybluepenguin, thank you for the gift my dear. I treasure him and you.

Edited by @grandmother-goblin, thanks again for the work on it.

Read on AO3

A vampire spawn, when not half-starved, can have a number of incredible abilities. In their time traveling together, Astarion has grown stronger and discovered some of these abilities for himself. The problem, Serafina has observed, was that without another vampire to teach him about those abilities, they tended to be discovered by accident.

Such as the spider-climb incident. A couple of thieves had tried to rob the inn that her and Astarion were staying in, cornering them across the room from the exit. Astarion had backed up to take a better shot at one of the bastards and had simply walked up a wall without thinking. When the fight was over, he had attempted to get back down and ended up falling in a very undignified heap on the floor. Sera’s attempt to coddle him and soothe his ego was undermined by giggles she kept choking back. The whole incident ended with him pouting until he received enough kisses and compliments to forgive her.

There were other little surprises that came to them as well. Astarion healing faster than he could realize that he was hurt, or moving at speeds that she couldn’t track. Every new facet left him radiantly happy. Until now, his vampiric body had been nothing but a source of misery; years of torture, a whole life lost to the darkness, and not even a sense of what he looked like. But now, he was free. His body was his own, and he could take pride in the things it was capable of.

The only downside Sera had found was the emergence of a fiercely protective streak. One that occasionally caused him to treat her like she was made of glass — including jumping in front of her when he perceived danger. Such instances usually ended with one of her eldritch blasts in his back and a discussion about her being a very capable warlock who saved the world, in case he had forgotten.

She wouldn’t change a thing about him. Impulsive, sharp-tongued, and macabre as he could be, he was also loving, brave, and so much fun. Even if he was not particularly good at more domestic tasks, as the laundry she was hauling up from the river could attest. If it was up to him, laundry day was always tomorrow. So, she’d taken the last of the daylight while he tranced to catch up a bit. Unfortunately, it was going to have to dry by firelight, one of many small adjustments she'd made for a more nocturnal life.

Astarion was worth all of them, though.

Plopping the basket near the fire, she began to hang the wet items on the laundry line that was set earlier. The sky had gone full dark and it seemed a little strange that Astarion hadn’t wandered out of the tent yet. Hanging the last of the clothes, she poked her head into the tent with a little apprehension. Astarion still had the occasional nightmare or moment of panic, the horrors he had endured crawling out from the crevices of his mind to torment him and he would sometimes try to endure those alone. It wouldn’t surprise her to find him curled up in bed working through one.

Instead, emptiness greeted her.

“Astarion,” she called, perplexed, stepping inside the tent.

It wasn’t like him to just wander off without telling her; even his nightly hunts were announced. Sera felt her pulse rise but told herself he’d seen her note and just went in search of a quick bite. She’d head back to the fire and give it a few minutes before worrying. As she turned to go, something caught her eye. Eldritch power crackled in her fingertips as a shape hurtled toward her from the depths of the tent.

Just before she released a blast of magical energy, the shape became clear: a small white bat. Dismissing the spell, she stood still, flustered as the creature didn't slow. Finally, the little bat smacked into her chest, chittering loudly.

Cautiously, her hands cupped him, wary of the small teeth in his mouth. His wild noises stopped, and he seemed to sulk in her hands. She had to be reading too much into what looked like a pout on his face. “Are you hurt, little guy? What are you doing in my tent?”

The bat in her hands flapped his wings and squeaked before deflating again.

“You must be hurt. Let’s see what we can do for you.” Gently, still wary he could bite down at any moment, Sera looked around for some place comfortable to place him before giving in and just lowering him onto her pillow. “I don’t suppose you’d let me look you over?”

Settling onto the bed next to the little creature, she gently picked up a wing, which he snatched back. “Oh come on, I need to see what’s wrong with you. Too bad Halsin isn’t here.” The bat suddenly hissed, and she glanced down at him with worry. “Maybe Astarion can help me when he gets back.” A flurry of noises followed her words, and she laughed. “Oh, you like the sound of his name. It is a lovely name, isn’t it? Well, he’s lovely overall.”

The bat wiggled excitedly, like he was trying to fly but couldn’t quite do it.

“Poor thing. Promise not to bite me?” That time he definitely chittered in response, and Sera stared at it curiously. Could there be more to this small bat than she’d thought? Picking up the pillow, she placed him in her lap and cautiously stroked his soft fur.

She hadn’t ever touched a bat before, but its fur was silkier than she would have thought, and it seemed to relax beneath her fingertips. “You’ll like Astarion,” she started, talking idly while she continued to pet him. “He’s a creature of the night like you.”

He made another little noise.

“You seem very interested in my… partner. I suppose that’s the best word for him. It doesn’t really quite do it justice, though. Hmm. Beloved. That’s a weird way to introduce someone, though.”

Her new friend had relaxed under the motion of her fingers.

“Can I look you over now?” she asked, lifting a wing to no resistance. Gently, she inspected both wings and his back. “I have to pick you up now, to see the rest of you.”

With a soft squeak, he gave in. Sera carefully looked over his ears, and flipped him upside down to inspect his stomach before setting him back down.

“I’m sorry, little guy, I can’t seem to see what’s wrong with you.” She went back to petting him. “Maybe once Astarion is back we can look for some local druids. I hope he’s alright, he doesn’t usually disappear on me. Maybe I should go look for him, in case something is wrong. I don’t know what I’d ever do without him.”

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love him. Even if he was a pain when we first met.” There was an almost indignant sounding squeak from the bat and Sera froze. “And he can be so very vain sometimes.”

The bat exploded into noises, flapping its wings.

“Gods above, it can’t be.” She looked down and found red eyes looking back at her with a definite bit of embarrassment. “Astarion?”

“SQUEAK.” Came the answer.

Picking him up, she held him in front of her face staring at him. The little rascal’s tongue lapped out and licked her nose. “How did you even manage this? And how do I get you back.”

The bat, Astarion, answered with a sad chirp and tried again to fly, this time managing to get himself airborne before crashing back down to the pillow waiting in her lap. “Love, what am I going to do with you?”

Astarion hissed and let his little head fall onto the pillow.

“I suppose this isn’t fun for you either at this point. What if you concentrated on it? Or didn’t concentrate? Or maybe sleep?” Each question was followed by noises that would have assuredly been not very nice words.

“Well if you’re going to be rude — ” she set the pillow down on the bed “ — figure it out yourself. I need to make sure the laundry hasn’t been stolen by wildlife.”

She'd barely stood when he began wildly flapping, attempting to get to her. Sighing, sure turned back, only to catch him for the second time that night, and have him excitedly lap at her hands. “Fine, I know you're sorry.”

“We'll get this fixed, but you had better stay in here. I don't think you can get away from a predator right now.”

Astarion hissed as she carried him back to the pillow, wings fluttering still.

“I'm sure you'll figure out the flying bit.”

He had stilled in her hands and looked defeated.

Sera’s heart ached for her love, trapped in a form he couldn't control. “It will be alright, I promise.”

Bringing him close, she gently kissed his little bat snout.

Something in the air shifted and Sera sensed a change causing her to let go of Astarion. The small form was engulfed in shadow and a weight hit the mattress. “Hells!”

“Astarion,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and feeling his arms around waist. “Gods, you had me worried.”

Pulling her close, he nuzzled into her stomach, chuckling softly. “So little confidence in me darling?”

“Forgive me for being scared my partner would be a bat forever, even if it would give me a lot more peace and quiet.”

“Is that how you feel?” The only warning she had was the tightening of his arms around her waist. “You’re so cruel to me.” She yelped as Astarion pulled her down to the mattress, and snuggled against her. “Though I suppose this wasn't my finest display of power.”

Her fingers pulled through his silver curls and she kissed the top of his head. “You'll be perfect at it in no time, my love.”

Astarion hummed happily and kissed the hollow of her throat. “At least I'll have you to pet and pamper me if I get stuck again.”

tag list:

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblog @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary @talented-bitch @waking-electric @snowfolly

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x original female character #bg3 tav #bg3 tav: serafina #batstarion

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popironrye · 24 days

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Little Birdie

So animals aren't really something I draw much, can you tell? XD

This is Arlo! He's a derpy little runt of a pigeon, but since he's Marko's baby, he feeds him to much so he's very fat.

I really wanted to draw this little guy and of course I had to include Marko as well. Arlo is one of Marko's pigeons, but he's not like the rest.

I like to think at one point in time, Marko thought it'd be cool to give raising hatchlings a try after finding out the domesticated female pigeons were leaving their eggs up in the crevices of the cave walls. This didn't last long for a couple of reasons.

1. Since pigeons are monogamous and are always around their babies 24/7, even the most domesticated ones are very good at taking care of their babies all by themselves. And

2. Raising babies of any animal species suck, given how much responsibility is required to feed, clean up after, and protect them, not to mention the boys would need to take in a nocturnal animal as they were completely unable to do anything during the day. Marko was more than happy just letting the pigeons raise their own.

As the bird grew, Marko noticed he stayed pretty small compared to the other pigeons, guess he was always gonna be a runt.

This all changes when he's floating in the hotel bored, just watching the few previous baby pigeons left before they fly out to live on their own as adults, Marko notices in one of the crevices he knew had an egg before still had something in it. It was a baby pigeon, without a parent anyway close, which Marko knew was odd. The baby was like any other baby pigeon he saw. Very ugly. Bright pink fleshy thing with very little feathers to cover it yet. Since it was by itself, Marko knew something must had been wrong with him and the parents just abandoned him. Marko kept good care and record of his pigeons and the boys respected his wishes not to kill and eat any of them.

Marko pulled the baby from the hole and just held it, examining him very closely. When the boys found out about the abandoned baby, they figured Marko would leave it somewhere to starve or just eat himself, but Marko didn't have the heart to do that. Instead he kept the bird around, calling him Arlo, just to see how long he'd live.

Arlo is a very sweet little bird. He loves getting pets. He can fly, but he's not the strongest flyer, so he's mostly on the ground. Marko tied two bells around his ankle so he'd know where he was at all time.

#the lost boys #my art #marko names all his birds #he's a bird dad #marko the lost boys #marko tlb #the lost boys 1987 #fan character #fanart #the lost boys fanart

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sharkie-malarkie · 3 months

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DYK…

pyjama sharks are primarily nocturnal, spending most of the day lying motionless and hidden in a cave or crevice or among vegetation. they often forms groups, particularly during summer.

pyjama sharks are endemic to temperate south african coastal waters, most commonly found in kelp beds, on rocky bottoms and in caves, from the intertidal zone to depths of around 100 m.

pyjama sharks have 18–25 and 14–24tooth rows on either side of the upper and lower jaws, respectively. even when their mouth is closed, their upper teeth remain visible. it features prominent but short nasal barbels and two dorsal fins (the second one is significantly smaller) situated far back on its body.

pyjama sharks are small and harmless. like the catshark leopard shark, it is found in aquariums because it adapts to captivity.

#marine life #sea creatures #sharks #shark #marine biology #sea #ocean #aquatic #sealife #water #pyjama shark #oceancore #ocean life #i like sharks (and getou’s balls)

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lancermylove · 2 months

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Moments of Love (Oneshots)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Mammon, Satan x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Word Count: 965 (Mammon), 1453 (Satan)

———————————————

As the roadway turned around a gentle curve, small buildings lined the streets, nestled intimately together like a collection of vibrant boxes arrayed along a serpentine path. The charming town that was cradled between two majestic mountain ranges radiated a sense of tranquil seclusion. The air was invigoratingly fresh, and the sun shone brightly—a picturesque setting for exploration or simply taking in nature's beauty.

Despite the town's enchanting and serene ambiance, Mammon initially cast a skeptical gaze at the storefronts and buildings. The simplicity of a small-town festivity seemed lackluster compared to the grandeur he envisioned for a romantic retreat. He wanted an extravagant experience at a secluded resort with private beaches, sumptuous spa treatments, and luxurious amenities. You, however, preferred the small town's peaceful allure and retro charm. So, to make you happy, the demon gave in to your wish to celebrate the vacation there.

"We will be staying here," you exclaimed as a cottage came into view.

The cottage was nestled amidst dense foliage, offering privacy and seclusion accompanied by the soothing sound of rushing water from a nearby river. Mammon nodded but softly sighed in resignation. What was he supposed to do? He didn't care for the lush forest, didn't want to observe the wildlife, and definitely didn't want to ruin his expensive shoes by hiking the muddy trails. Although, he didn't say any of this out loud for your sake. 'Anything for your happiness,' he repeated over and over in his mind. While you excitedly explored the cottage, Mammon leaned against the porch railing, absentmindedly staring at the trees.

In the evening, you and Mammon ventured into the town. Much to your shock, the town had transformed into a tableau of romance, illuminated by candles and adorned with festive embellishments. The townspeople had gone above and beyond in their efforts to create a romantic atmosphere, bringing a feeling of intimacy and romance to the town. Heart-shaped lanterns and strings of white beads hung from the trees and buildings; streetlights had been draped with white and red velvet ribbons and sprinkled with rose petals; candles had been tucked into every available crevice.

You were taken aback by the transformation of the quiet, quaint town into a romantic wonderland. As you walked arm in arm with Mammon down the dimly lit street, you caught glimpses of couples sitting on benches, sharing intimate conversations, and kissing beneath the flickering lights. The atmosphere was truly romantic. Though you could feel Mammon's reluctance to openly admit his surprise, you noticed his slightly widened eyes wandering around.

Eventually, the two of you discovered a secluded hill offering a panoramic view of the area. The town below, bathed in the moon's ethereal glow, sparkled like a trove of gemstones scattered across the velvet of night. Countless flickering candles in the town cast a gentle glow across the area while the stars above choreographed a silent ballet in the expansive sky. The air was perfumed with a blend of nocturnal blossoms and the earthy scent of the surrounding woods. It was as if the universe had conspired to create a cocoon of romance exclusively for you and Mammon.

Nestled amidst this dreamlike setting, you spread a plush, soft blanket on the grassy underlay. Inside the pink wicker basket, an assortment of delectable treats and a bottle of fine wine were set beside two crystal glasses. For the final touch, you turned on a lantern and put it in the center of the blanket. Mammon looked at the setting in awe as a small smile graced his lips. "Man, you've outdone yourself."

"Only the best for a night like this," you replied affectionately, genuinely wanting to give him an unforgettable night. The two of you savored the curated selection of cheeses, fruits, pastries, and chocolates for a while as you made small conversation. Just as the velvet cloak of the night wrapped itself more snugly around the world, the distant horizon came alive with a sudden burst of color and light; fireworks of all sizes and hues erupted against the dark sky, painting it with streaks of red, blue, gold, and green.

Your eyes widened with delight, and a gasp escaped your lips. "Look, Mammon! Isn't it beautiful?"

Your boyfriend turned his gaze toward the spectacle, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he whispered. However, his gaze returned his attention to you, the reflected light of the fireworks dancing in the softness of his eyes. He enjoyed watching your reaction more; the more excited you grew, the more drawn he was. Reaching his hand to your cheek, he gently brushed your skin with the back of his fingers.

"The fireworks ain't got nothin' on your beauty," he whispered, his soft murmur caressing the edges of your right ear.

Surprised by his unexpected words, you slowly turned your head in his direction as your cheeks grew hot. One look into his gaze and the world receded; the sounds of the fireworks, the scent of the blooms and earth, the sparkling stars, the softness of the blanket under your legs - everything was gone. It was just you, Mammon, and a gentle breeze lightly tussling your hair.

Little by little, the two of you leaned in. Your heart pounded against your chest as the anticipation built. What felt like an infinite moment ended when your lips melted into a tender kiss, but the tenderness only lasted momentarily. You could feel the rush of blood through your veins, the butterflies in your stomach, and the heat rising in your body. With your lips still locked, you slowly leaned forward onto his body until Mammon's back was flat against the plush blanket. It was going to be one the longest and most romantic nights of your life.

The warm smell of coffee and waffles wafted through the air as Satan, disguised in his professorial guise, stepped into the quaint local café. Red and white streamers adorned the ceiling, fluttering gently in the warm breeze from a nearby heater, adding a festive yet somewhat gloomy atmosphere. Each table bore a small, delicately crafted heart-shaped statue, its glossy surface reflecting the soft, ambient lighting that cast a cozy glow throughout the room. Despite the romantic setup, the café was surprisingly devoid of patrons. This emptiness seemed to echo Satan's own sentiments as he found himself alone on a day traditionally celebrated with loved ones.

"One large black coffee," he ordered, his emerald eyes not meeting your gaze or even looking at your face once.

Wordlessly, you handed Satan a large black coffee, its dark, rich aroma wafting up in the cozy cafe. He gracefully accepted the cup, his fingers brushing against yours momentarily, sending a surprisingly warm tingle through your hand. He then made his way to a secluded corner table that offered both solitude and a view. As he settled into the chair, his emerald orbs drifted out of the window.

Outside, the city pulsed with life, unaware and indifferent to the turmoil within its walls. People passed by in a blur, each absorbed in their own world, their laughter and chatter distant and foreign. Satan's gaze deepened, reflecting a weariness that seemed to span eons. The weight of countless memories, of love lost and solitude endured, pressed heavily upon him. He cradled the cup of coffee in his hands, seeking warmth in its black depths as he grappled with an emptiness and a silence more profound than the void from which he once emerged.

With its quaint heart-shaped panes, the window framed snapshots of the world outside, where young couples meandered by, their hands entwined, their laughter and easy conversations floating in the air like music. The sunlight radiated a warm, golden hue over these shared happiness vignettes, highlighting the lovers' closeness and ease. Each couple seemed to exist in their own little bubble, a sphere of shared joy and connection that Satan found both enchanting and heart-wrenching.

He observed how their eyes sparkled with the reflection of someone who saw them as their whole world and how their bodies leaned into each other as if drawn by an invisible force. For a moment, Satan allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to share such a bond, to feel the joy of being deeply connected to another soul, to experience love not as an observer from the shadows but as an active participant in the light. Yet, as he watched these displays of affection and unity, his ache deepened.

While Satan was engrossed in his contemplation, you stole glances at the enigmatic stranger who had just entered your café. His presence was striking—blonde hair that fell just right, fair skin that seemed to glow under the café's lights, and deep emerald green eyes that held a universe of stories untold. Your heart fluttered as you observed him from behind the counter, his brooding demeanor only adding to his allure.

Seeing him so lost in his thoughts, so utterly alone, stirred something within you. You wanted to reach out, to offer a gesture that might pierce his solitude, even if just for a moment. Determinedly, you selected a heart-shaped cookie from the display, meticulously iced in white. It was a small token, but one infused with the warmth of human kindness. Approaching his table with a tentative smile, you placed the cookie before him, disrupting his thoughts with a gentle touch of reality.

"I thought you might enjoy this," you softly said. "The cookie is on the house, a little gift for White Day. I hope it brings a bit of sweetness to your day."

Satan's world momentarily paused the second his eyes landed on your face. The simple act of kindness, paired with your sweet smile, pierced through his haze of loneliness. As you return to the counter, he observed the lightness in your step and the bounce of your hair. After composing himself and finishing the cookie, which he found surprisingly delightful, Satan rose from his seat. With a newfound confidence, he approached the counter and slightly leaned against it.

"Excuse me," he began quietly, "Thank you for the cookie. Your kindness brightened my otherwise gloomy day. Would you…allow me the pleasure of taking you out for a coffee once your shift ends? I realize we're in a coffee shop," he added with a slight, charming smile, "but perhaps a change of scenery could provide a fresh backdrop for what I hope could be an enjoyable conversation."

His eyes locked with yours, a silent plea for companionship laced with a hint of hopeful curiosity as he waited for your response. Your heart skipped a beat at his unexpected invitation.

"Well," you whispered, a playful glint in your eye, "since we're already in a coffee shop, how about you try making a coffee for me instead? It's not every day we allow someone to come behind the counter."

Satan's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to mild astonishment, clearly taken aback by your counteroffer. After a bit of hesitation, a smile broke through his surprise. "I accept your challenge," he declared, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes. "I hope I can brew a cup that lives up to your standards."

With a nod, you beckoned him behind the counter, aware of the rules you were bending but too caught up in the moment to care. The café was empty, and no cameras to record the event, so the chances of you getting into trouble were slim. Your gaze followed his every movement, from familiarizing himself with the coffee machine to his gradual shift from hesitant to confident. To your surprise, Satan grasped the essence of coffee-making rather quickly.

"You seem quite at home with all of this," you remarked, unable to hide your admiration. "Have you worked in a coffee shop before?"

He glanced up, a hint of pride in his smile. "Not exactly. But I have a friend who owns a coffee shop, and I've lent a hand a few times. It's an enjoyable change of pace from my usual… engagements."

With a final flourish, he presented the latte to you, the surface adorned with an intricately designed foam cat, its whiskers and eyes crafted with impressive precision. "I hope this meets your approval."

Taking the cup in your hands, you were charmed by the artwork and the gesture. "This is amazing," you admitted, genuinely impressed. "I think you've just set a new standard for our lattes here."

One sip and your taste buds were shocked. It was as if all the flavors had been perfectly balanced to create a symphony of flavors in your mouth. "Are you sure you're not a professional barista in disguise?" You joked.

Satan's laughter momentarily filled the café with a different kind of warmth. "Perhaps I've missed my calling," he replied with a twinkle in his eyes, suggesting he was enjoying this unusual interaction.

As you took another sip, a dollop of milk foam stuck to your upper lip, unbeknownst to you. Satan's gaze lingered on the unintended mustache, and a playful smirk formed on his lips. "I must say, you wear that white mustache quite well," he teased.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and delight as you quickly wiped away the foam. But you were not prepared for Satan's next words. "I was half expecting you to ask for my assistance," he whispered, his voice dropping a few notes.

With a mischievous smile, you took another deliberate sip, ensuring a new layer of foam decorated your lip. "Well, I might just take you up on that offer," you replied, locking eyes with him.

The air between you and Satan became charged with a new spark, something neither of you expected. His thumb brushed against your skin, softly wiping away the foam, but he purposely touched your upper lip. The contact sent a ripple of sensation through you, your breath hitching slightly in response. The world seemed to pause around you both, the hum of the coffee machine and the distant city sounds fading into a hushed backdrop.

His eyes were deeply locked with yours. A mix of curiosity and a hint of something deeper was reflected in his emerald gaze. The blush that colored your cheeks was mirrored on his. It was as if time slowed, allowing you both to linger at this threshold between casual interaction and the potential for something more profound. There was a hint of a beginning, a promise of a story yet to unfold.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

#obey me #obey me oneshot #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #mammon x reader #mammon obey me #satan x reader #satan obey me

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ljsbugblog · 3 months

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a male(?) Garden Orbweaver resting in the crevice of a fencepost as he awaits the night. Females are nocturnal hunters, constructing their large webs at night to catch flying insects, and dismantling them come sunrise. Adult males spend the night seeking out these females to mate.

Unknown Garden Orbweaver, male(?) (genus Hortophora).

#ljsbugblog #bugblr #entomology #macro #arachnids #spiders #araneidae #orbweavers #araneinae #hortophora #garden orbweavers #unconfirmed ID

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crevicedwelling · 1 year

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Cassandra’s dinner guest.

(Aphonopelma chalcodes, Blaptica dubia)

#tarantula #spider #arachnids #bugs #cw bugs #cw bug death #crevice nocturnal

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sharks-are-friends-not-foes · 8 months

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🦈 Daily Shark Fact: 🦈

Pyjama sharks are named because they appear to be wearing striped pyjamas. Primarily nocturnal, they hunt at night and rest in caves and crevices during the day. While many other sharks will use their sawing dentition to cut through prey, pyjama sharks will perform a spinning manoeuvre, like a crocodile’s ‘death roll’, to stun their prey, pull them off the rocky bottom, and dismember them.

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thevilqueen · 7 months

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Undying Loyalty ~ Part 3

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit × Reader

Summary: Students are disappearing on the campus of Night Raven College and it seems your lovely friend, Vil Schoenheit, is guilty. Will your love and loyalty for him change?

A/N: Be warned that [Name] has an inexistant moral compass. Let me know what you think!

Part 1 Part 2

Vil had been turned into what was known in folklore as a vampire, he had himself deduced and shared his knowledge with [Name]. Luckily for them, there were countless books in the school library that talked about these dangerous creatures. As [Name] accompanied their best friend as he fed himself, they were able to observe many of his new abilities. Vil only fed on human blood and he had grown disgusted with normal food. Without blood, he couldn’t function and it led him to intense bloodthirst, which was a highly dangerous state as described by the many books [Name] had gathered.

Vil had been feeding well since his awakening and his victims were stabilizing. His bite alone couldn’t kill but it was used to feed and influence his victims. As a newly turned vampire, however, Vil’s level of aggression was high as [Name] had witnessed. It was unclear whether he was able to turn other people into vampires so far for he had killed all his victims before draining them of their blood entirely and none of them had resurfaced. It appeared that he wasn’t looking into turning anyone like him and he had no memories of the person that had bitten him. However, if the books were right, it was the King of Vampires’ doing. [Name] wondered if they should be worrying about that mysterious individual just yet but they figured their hands were already full with Vil.

With time it seemed that Vil was able to shapeshift. He couldn’t turn into animals just yet but he could travel as dust or vapor and pass through any cracks and crevices. However, he was only able to enter someone’s property if he was invited, which seemingly didn’t apply to [Name] as they had granted him a permanent invitation, unbeknownst to them for a while. Vil had also developed a weakness for sunlight, while it wasn’t fatal, it did take a toll on him and made it harder for him to be active by day. Unfortunately, shifting his routine completely while maintaining his studies was impossible therefore he only managed to rest a few hours per day. This lifestyle was likely the reason why he needed so much blood to sustain himself.

However, he had not bitten [Name] nor had even brought it up and they couldn’t help thinking as to why. Seemingly biting them would have granted him some sort of influence over their actions as well as some psychic powers. Moreover, Vil’s bite could change [Name] if they were to die by it. Many questions were yet to be answered by Vil and the truth was that [Name]’s mind was also clouded by the meaning of their kiss. They weren’t sure about how to address it in between walks to the graveyard in the late hours of the night. [Name] was relieved that Vil had stopped killing his victims for now only drinking blood from unaware prey. It was not ideal but it was better than what they had witnessed that night in the forest.

“You aren’t nocturnal like me, doll,” Vil reminded them as they walked under the moonlight together. “You should be resting.”

“I would rather not.”

“Why is that? Are you worried for me?” he asked, curious.

“I just want to make sure you aren’t killing anyone.”

Vil chuckled.

“As if you would be able to stop me if I tried.”

“I guess you are right but you didn’t kill me. So surely you aren’t just a monster, no?”

“What if I was?” he asked, stopping in his tracks, his violet eyes looking into theirs.

“You aren’t.”

“For now.”

“Is that true?” [Name] inquired, worry in their eyes.

The truth was Vil didn’t know. He brushed [Name]’s face gently with his fingers.

“I have changed so much. Would it be that shocking? Do you even recognize me?”

“Of course I recognize you,” [Name] immediately replied. “Why else would I be here?”

“So I’m still Vil to you? I’m Vil Schoenheit?”

They nodded enthusiastically and he chuckled.

“Don’t you feel like Vil Schoenheit?”

Vil stayed quiet for a moment. It was a difficult question. It was wrong to think that his mind had adapted to his new condition the way his body did. At first, he felt barely human. He couldn’t seem to care about anything he used to care about, all that mattered was stopping that hunger that was devouring him, bloodthirst. This was when he felt like an animal, a beast. Once that feeling disappeared however he felt like the person he was had remained and that was the hardest part of his condition. He felt corrupted and hideous and he knew he truly was now. All his life spent as a rising actor, fearing becoming the roles he was constantly assigned, felt meaningless now that he was a true evil.

Yet the scariest part of this all was that he almost felt like he was free now like something had chained his heart and self all this time. Almost like he had repressed the ugliness in him so much that letting it overflow was therapeutic. Everything he knew would inevitably perish, his career, his friends, his family and probably even him. Just like he feared, Vil would die as the villain but his heart couldn’t seem to give up, even drowned in darkness. He wanted to live, selfishly and wrongly. Maybe this was just an act of rebellion from the heart he pressured for so long to be perfect. Except he was not perfect and never had been.

“Hardly sometimes.”

“Well you are different but you are still Vil to me,” [Name] explained. “You are like a new version of yourself. I can feel that your core is the same but everything around it has shifted.”

Vil smiled at [Name]’s words before closing the distance between them, giving them a tender kiss on the lips.

“At first,” they explained, pulling away slightly, “I was unsure. I was wondering if I was just being seduced by the shape of you but it’s still you .”

“What am I to you?” he asked, his nose brushing against theirs.

“The one that holds my heart.”

“Why did it take this for you to say it?” Vil replied, pulling back but not breaking their embrace.

“I was scared, Vil. Why did it take this for you to ask me?”

“I was unsure,” he said, truthfully.

“And are you sure now?”

Vil laughed. If he wasn’t now then he would never be. Who else would love a monster so carelessly?

“I am so sure that it’s terrifying,” he replied. “You terrify me, doll.”

“Why?” they asked with a frown.

“Trust and loyalty like this is deadly. So to give it to a killer is, to say the least, interesting but you don’t think that hard do you?” he teased.

“Maybe I don’t but it’s too late now and I don’t regret it.”

“[Name] don’t you offer your heart like this to anyone ever again,” Vil warned them.

“I won’t because it’s yours.”

“I don’t need a heart, doll. I’m not alive anymore.”

[Name] stayed quiet for a moment. Vil was right. He was undead now. He was by nature not quite himself anymore.

“So you won’t hold my heart?” they asked in a small voice.

“I won’t.”

Vil could see the tears filling up [Name]’s eyes as soon as the words left his mouth.

“But I will guard it while you hold it. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure,” [Name] admitted.

“It doesn’t matter. Just allow me to look after you while I can,” Vil concluded, kissing [Name]’s forehead tenderly.

They nodded before searching for his mouth again. It tasted like blood yet [Name] couldn’t seem to care as Vil’s tongue made its way past their lips. They kissed slowly but passionately, taking their sweet time together. Vil’s hands travelled down [Name]’s body eagerly and his mouth eventually moved down to their neck. He sucked on the skin carefully but didn’t bite them.

“Why don’t you bite me, Vil?” [Name] asked, at last, feeling him move back to kissing their jaw.

“Do you want me to bite you?”

“I do.”

“Do you know what this would do to you?” he asked.

“I do.”

Vil didn’t know how he was still surprised by [Name]’s carelessness. They visibly had fully sworn themself to him and at this point, he wasn’t quite sure what was the best way to protect them. [Name] was reckless, that much was obvious, he couldn’t know the extent to which they would go if they felt like Vil was threatened. Maybe biting them was safer. Vil wanted to bite them. Yet he didn’t want to choose selfishly. He needed to think about it for now.

“We will see, doll.”

#twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #twst #vil schoenheit smut #vil schoenheit x reader #vil smut #vil x reader #👑.the evil queen writes

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missamyrisa2 · 7 months

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Miss Amy, you are so hot....you're my tickle crush 🙈

I'd do anything to have my royal pearl tickled by you, m'lady 🩵

Oooh sweeet 🩵 you flatter me sooo much I'm nothing special~!!

Annnnnd flattery is only going to summon more ticklesss~ sometime late in the night, in that twilighty stretch between night and day ~ you'll feel that little tingle sparkling between your legs, that most elegant of tiny tickles swirling into existence~ ooh it's probably nothing but the sheets ~ but then again maybe you've drawn a night visitor, an insatiable nocturnal predator who thirsts only for the sweetest of the giggle dew~

coochie coooo~ someone's coming for youuu~

fingertips brush your open palm ~ from the center up each of your fingers, a loving caress with a wicked intent~ the feather draws along your nose, back and forth filling your nostrils with an overwhelming scent. Your mind is coated with essence, coaxed out of sleep while your body is coaxed back in ~ too late, your eyes peel open and see my smirk and wavering visage as though I were steadily drifting in and out of existence. The threat registers far too slow ~ your limbs respond but only just barely for your body continues to dream and resist any motions of the waking world. My long plume of purple cascades from nothingness and caresses up your thigh~

the hour is late and your pearl grows weary ~ shall I free you, little strumpet?

My free hand wiggles and starts lovingly rubbing down your side from the last rib over your belly to your hip, getting your body nice and wiggly in reaction.

or shall you suffer the eternal tickles?

With a distant clicking as though a thousand knuckles just cracked, my backside quakes and my spectral form floating above trembles ~ and becomes spidery with six more arms unfolding, each tipped with long purple nails wiggling down towards your helpless paralyzed body - save for two which simply fold under my smiling face to make a taunting superior pose while I make you laugh and struggle. My hands massage and rub and stroke and wiggle in pairs, under your arms ~ over your upper legs, and under your toes.

ah, quite the persistent volunteer this pearl~

I shake my head and wag a finger as we both look down to see the affect of the tickles between your legs. Two of my hands wave an incantation to make your little button brilliantly sparkle in the shadows - and tingle madly. As I watch you desperately buck and shiver with sensation with my magic raising your sensitivity down the royal area, my appendages reach between the lines of reality to retrieve their equipment.

so haunted is my velvet heart so sweet is your nectar

Implements of otherworldly wickedness glow and hum fearsome as they are brought down to probe at your most regal zones. The feathered frilled vibrations of the purple tools glide and spin from your inner thighs to your girly lips. A snaking rod with a mind of its own curls and bends in a line across one hip along your waist and downward to split open and triangulate three unimaginably supple rollers over your pearl. I look down with contempt at your reactions, eagerly drinking up the desperation.

give unto me your gigglecum ~ you've no other path

And with a flurry of activity the brushes descend swirling and dipping around your pearl as it swells and protests my tickly incursion. The feathered frilly rods spin wickedly up and down your thighs to facilitate your motions. Twin flower buds bearing the deepest shades are deposited to your girly chest buttons whereupon they attach and tremble and kiss like a lingering lover~ The final arrival in my arsenal are another pair ~ silken clamps carried by two hands eagerly setting them to snap on your toes, caging them between and under with the softest of teeth to glide through all those intricately ticklish crevices~

surrender yourself to the tickles, fall into my abyss~ darling strumpet

The brushes encircle your pearl, caressing it into a gang hug for a tickly squeeze before pulling back and dancing about again. The humming tools work further up and out, tormenting your hips and hip dips before visiting the lips and then drawing back down the thighs. Your chest is teased relentlessly with licking strokes, your toes probed and bullied mercilessly ~ as your arousal grows and your body edged closer to give what I desire, my form glows brighter with a deep purple smoulder~

only a matter of time ~ she fights ~ but the gigglecumdrops are mine~

Your body arches and bucks and thrusts to meet my machinations ~ your pearl interrogated of all its secrets and more. I snicker as you start to drift into the fuzz, stuck eternally at your giggly desperate edge~

and with your eyes peeling open again, my form now entirely tangible and equipped with only two arms, kneels over your shivering writhing body. My single purple feather glides up and down your swollen pearl, I lay across your legs keeping you pinned and opened for my tickles~ that ultra soft simple tool needs only to wave up, and wave down, and tremble in zig zag patterns~

the hour is late, the sun will rise~ but only after you've surrendered all your nectar~

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pleistocene-pride · 2 months

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Dasyurus maculates, better known as the tiger quoll, the spotted-tail quoll, the spotted quoll, the spotted-tail dasyure, native cat or the tiger cat, is a carnivorous marsupial native to eastern and southern Australia and the island of Tasmania. These semi-arboreal mammals can be found in a variety of habitats including mixed dry and alpine forests, pastureland, and grasslands, but seem to prefer wetter environments such as riverine forests, rainforests and closed eucalypt forest. Tiger quolls are generally nocturnal, spending there days in dens they build in burrows, caves, rock crevices, tree hollows, hollow logs, or abandoned buildings. They emerge at night to hunt prey such as insects, crustaceans, lizards, snakes, frogs, birds, platypus, echidnas, rabbits, possums, cuscuses, gliders, bandicoots, pademelons, small wallabies, and wombats. Tiger quolls are themselves preyed upon by Tasmanian devils, masked owls, dingos, large pythons, and wedge-tailed eagles. Reaching around 27 to 45 inches (69 to 113cms) in length and 3 to 15lbs (1.3 to 7kgs) in weight, with females being a far bit smaller than males, the tiger quoll is the second largest carnivorous marsupial on earth after the Tasmanian devil. At 308 newtons the tiger quoll also sports the second most powerful bite relative to body size of any living mammalian carnivore, after the Tasmanian devil. The tiger quoll has relatively short legs, a tail as long as the rest of its body, a thick neck, and large head with an elongated rounded snout. Each foot has 5 toes with pink foot pads are ridged, an adaptation for its arboreal lifestyle. The fur is typically reddish brown, occasionally black, with a creamy white colored underside. Mating occurs from april into july. The gestation period in this species lasts for 21 days, yielding 5 young on average. The babies are then moved to the pouch of their mother, where they continue to grow for the following 12 weeks. The young become fully independent by 18 to 21 weeks of age, reach sexual maturity at 1 year, and may live up to 7 years.

#pleistocene pride #pleistocene #pliestocene pride #pliestocene #cenozoic #australia #tasmania #tiger quoll #marsupial #quoll

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vote-gaara · 5 months

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The Sands of Time: Gaara's Story (Chapter 2)

Read Chapter One Here Read on AO3

Chapter Summary: Gaara and his siblings have surprisingly been promoted to chunin after their failed attack on The Leaf Village, but that's hardly a reason to celebrate. Gaara feels listless and sad, not knowing how to reincorporate himself back into the world he tried for years to shut himself out of. Thankfully his sister seems - at least a little - receptive to him, and with the upcoming annual Chunin Party, maybe Gaara can finally become accepted by his village. Meanwhile, the sand siblings' promotion had stirred up conflict in one of Suna's founding tribes. Will this spell trouble for The Sand Village and for Gaara? Will be finally get a friend???? (probably not) Enjoy! Words: 2126

Warnings: Sad Gaara, Rasa mention (cause he SUCKS)

Author's Notes: This took me a long time to publish because I am an idiot (no other reason).THERE ARE NO ORIGINAL CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER.

Chapter Two: Eldest Sister

The morning sun had come over the golden horizon, pushing away the shadows of the night and banishing all the desert’s nocturnal creatures back into their lairs.

Gaara, too, returned to his home upon the sun's arrival, though it wasn’t the fear of the heat that bothered him much. Being born in the desert, he was used to it now - perhaps even built for it. Rather, his retreat inside was to avoid the villagers who were beginning to stir within the streets, chatting happily amongst themselves as they went about their day; a ritual Gaara found he hadn’t much use for, and which the villagers had no use for him, either.

After his defeat in his fight against Uzumaki Naruto, Gaara found himself floating around in a listless limbo. He had seen the strength one could gain in friendship and in the sheer determination to protect others, but the concept still felt foreign and hopeless to him, like a desert mirage that could never really be touched.

With some bitterness, Gaara observed that every day that had passed since he had returned to his village from The Leaf, he had been suffering from a deep, unceasing ache in his heart. Of course, this ache had always been present in his life, but it had been lessened by his radical sense of self preservation: To kill everyone that he deemed similar to himself so that he may feel truly alive. Of course, it may have been a flawed concept, but the hatred kept him buoyant against the waves of the world’s ocean which had been desperately trying to drag him down to the darkness, into the depths, where he could be forgotten about in time.

Now with nothing to cling to, Gaara desperately needed an ally, yet the outside world didn’t change for Gaara. People still avoided him, and he was aware of the hatred in their eyes and in their voices when they were forced to interact with him.

It wasn’t as simple as saying to them, “I’ve changed, please forgive me.” People don’t forgive that easily, and that’s even without the difficult fact that some of the villagers had a personal scorn against Gaara. There were some people in the village who had suffered directly at his hands; perhaps he had injured them or someone they loved, or maybe Gaara was the reason that there would forever be a cold and empty seat at their dinner tables where a loved one used to place themselves.

Even to those who hadn’t suffered from his chaos, there were those who were wary of him out of caution. Rumors spread around the village, seeping into every crevice and home, just like the very sand that coated the land and wherever these grains landed, truth or exacerbated, they were swept up by the villagers and carried around as amulets of protection.

“If I just stay away from him, I’ll be safe!”

It wasn’t fair, but it was just the way things were in that desert, in that space and time and existence that Gaara occupied.

“Perhaps those troubles were for another time”, Gaara decided as he skulked down the vast halls of the estate, heading towards his living quarters so that he could once again take refuge in his room. He needed to think some more, to form a plan and to learn how it would be possible for him to connect to the people of his village.

Gaara turned the corner to see Temari coming down the hallway towards him. Neither of them were surprised to see each other as they had been aware of each other’s presence the entire time. Having the training of a Shinobi offered certain benefits to the five senses. A ninja could keenly interpret their surroundings outside of that of a normal person, and that was even if the ninja wasn’t a sensory type.

“Good morning, Gaara.” Temari greeted him. Her voice was polite and conjuling, with her familiar submissive lilt used specifically towards him.

Neither of Gaara’s siblings had treated him any differently since their return, mostly because Gaara hadn’t seen much of them. Typically both of them avoided him at all costs, but whilst Temari tried her best to appease him when she had to face him, Kankuro usually had the nerve to pick fights and speak his mind, but that was when they crossed paths. Gaara had been strangely excited about the prospects of encountering Kankuro in one of these interactions and to show that he could handle them differently without threatening to kill him, but Kankuro seemed to have had very similar ideas as his younger brother as he, too, had rooted himself in his room and only left for the bare necessities.

Temari passed Gaara without another word, but he had paused to watch her go. “Temari…” He offered quietly, his voice sounded rusty and dull. Temari froze midstep, her entire body ridgid as she slowly turned around to look at him.

“Yes, Gaara?” She asked, still with the politeness and still with the lilt.

“What…” Gaara started, his brain was desperately trying to grasp some form of question for her, or perhaps something of interest to say, and yet he had nothing to offer. His mind was as dry as the vast dunes outside the village. “How…are you?” He asked clumsily, aware that his question lacked any indication of curiosity. Instead, it had some sort of an estimation type quality, like the tone used to caution a guess while answering a difficult question.

“Um…Fine,” Temari cautioned, puzzled by her brother’s uncharacteristic banter. “And you, Gaara?”

“Fine…” He said slowly, unable to look up at his sister.

“Good,” Temari said, “That’s good.”

“Yes…”

The two lingered a moment longer, both itching to remove themselves from the situation but not quite knowing how. It was Temari who spoke first.

“Well, I better be going, I’m training today.”

“Yes,” Gaara agreed, “I understand.” He turned away from her and continued down the hallway, hearing as her steps also picked up. Gaara was just about at the end of the hallway when he heard his sister call out once more.

“Oh and Gaara?” He turned around to look at her, surprised to see a small smile on her face. It wasn’t one that was strained and it didn’t look forced. “If you need to talk, just let me know. I’m open to it anytime.”

With that she turned and strode away, leaving Gaara in utter speechlessness.

***

“The decision of the council is as shortsighted as it is disappointing. I had expected more from you, Joseki.” Tobacco smoke swirled around the dim room. A large, round man was sitting, cross-legged on a thickly padded cushion. His clothes were well-made, crafted with threads from far-off exotic lands, and he donned his tribe’s symbol on a beaded necklace among other trinkets. Bringing his pipe to his mouth, the man took a deep inhale, the orange glow of the tobacco embers lighting his face, of which his features were sullen and unhappy. “You have displeased me, greatly.”

“Lord Kōji, I have done all that you asked of me, but the council’s first priority is to safeguard the village.” Joseki, as old as he was, sat kneeling across from the large man. Though his shoulders were tense, his demeanor was assured. “The majority ruled.”

“The majority of the council flounders and buckles at any conflict that arises. When will the elders understand that all of their quick-fix strategies are what’s corrupting Sunagature?” Kōji growled. “My tribe has sacrificed good men and women, honorable shinobi, to this village and yet still we do not get a say in the affairs the council discusses. The Sand would be nothing without the Tsunzu tribe.”

Joseki allowed his head to bow respectfully in front of the tribe’s leader, but he frowned deeply. “Though Lord Fourth’s children acted irresponsibly during their mission in The Leaf, they are skilled shinobi…” Joseki trailed off, he thought of Gaara and scowled. “Lord Gaara is a concern, but his powers may still benefit the village, and Lord Kankuro and Lady Temari have acted honorably.”

Kōji spat out an incredulous laugh. “I will never see Rasa as Kazekage! His promotion was another ill-conceived scheme. Had Lord Third returned, he would have laughed in Rasa’s face.” Kōji coughed horsley, mumbling under his breath in disgust, “Gold dust…Pathetic.”

“I see there is nothing else for us to discuss,” Joseki concluded, his limbs shaking slightly with strain as he got to his feet. “I have done all you have asked of me. I had advocated on behalf of your concerns, but I must insist that the majority ruled when we elected to promote Lord Fourth’s children.” Joseki turned to leave the room, but stopped when Kōji spoke one more time.

“Those words,” Kōji growled, his eyes glinting like licks of fire, “are a declaration of war.”

“What do you mean?” Joseki demanded, outraged.

“You will see,” Kōji warned, “how Sunagature will thrive without the talents and hardwork of the Tsunzu tribe. Which is more valuable to you: gold dust, or water?”

***

Gaara’s room was dark. He had turned on his lights and climbed into bed to reflect, but he found even in his empty room, the brightness of the overhead light made him feel exposed; and so Gaara now lay with his thoughts in the darkness.

Though it may be like torture to the average person, Gaara was used to spending time laying idle, as sleep was not something he had the luxury of practicing. In this time of stillness, he allowed his eyes to close, his mind to ease and he crept into his own form of sleep - or perhaps meditation would’ve been a more appropriate term.

Suddenly he stirred, bolting upright as a sudden thought drove him to action. Peering at his calendar, he noted the date.

“The first of September.”

It was a date that Gaara knew of, but it had absolutely no meaning to him up until that very moment. It was the date of the annual Chunin Party; a time where newly graduated Chunin got together for the last night of irresponsible fun before becoming more serious in their careers…Or supposedly.

In reality, the annual Chunin Party was more of a popularity contest. The name was simply historical, dating back to the year where a record number of Suna ninja were promoted during the Chunin Exams, and who had decided to celebrate their collective victory with an all-night party. The story went that so many individuals were invited, that every ninja in the village had attended that first year. Now it had become an open event where ninjas of all ranks attended - and even those who weren’t ninjas at all. It was as simple as being invited and showing up for the fun.

Gaara had never gone to any of these parties before and he was suddenly allured by it, like he had been bewitched somehow. It may have been a foolish thought, but he reasoned that if he could just show up to the party, perhaps people could see that he had changed - Perhaps even he could even make a friend!

Though now he was struck by an obvious obstacle: The invitation.

Gaara had never been invited to the Chunin Party, and if he were to be honest with himself, he never really desired one up until that moment, and so just as rapidly as the idea came, it caved in on itself. Gaara reasoned that if he showed up invitation-less, they would simply allow him to waltz in out of fear, but for some reason that felt cheap and empty. If he was meant to go, the reason would be legitimate and intentional.

Sighing, Gaara stepped away from his calendar and glanced miserably around his room. “There’s just no use,” He thought as his eyes landed on his window. He could see now that the sky was beginning to darken as the day came to a close, and with a deep, sad inhale, he left his room to haunt the rapidly emptying streets of his village.

***

In the hallway Gaara encountered Temari again; her clothes dusty from her day of training. She greeted him kindly again, but this time her voice had taken on a more sincere quality than her usual lilt.

“Hello, Gaara.”

Gaara nodded at her, turning away from her almost on muscle memory but then something else took hold of him. “Temari…”

“Yes?” She was still slightly guarded, but her demeanor was more relaxed. The next sentence out of Gaara’s mouth surprised and startled both of them.

“Could I…Come to the party?”

“Oh!” Temari exclaimed, her eyes widening and Gaara could see in them her mind was reeling.

“...Oh!”

#tsot #Gaara #Temari #Kankuro #Naruto #Kazekage #Baki #Sunagature #suna #gaara of the sand #Gaara x oc #naruto fanfiction #plothole fill #patching canon

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