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swordgrace · 2 months

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Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

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genderbinaryisforlosers · 2 years

Photo

everyone give it up for knickolas pterodactyl hob. rue certainly has

[id: Two digital drawings depicting a scene from A Court of Fey and Flowers; Hob, Andhera, Binx, and Rue meet in the abandoned tailor’s shop. In the first image, Andhera and Hob stand side by side, with Andhera touching the back of his neck and smiling at Hob as his stormcloud brews, and Hob standing with his hat tucked under his arm, nervously saying, “The K in K.P. stands for Knickolas.” In the second image, Rue rests their face on their claw and above their head in cursive script, surrounded by hearts and peonies, are the words, “I Love Him.” At their side, Binx looks confused, with question marks gathering around her head. /end id]

more detailed description under the cut

Andhera is a young Unseelie faerie with dark plum-coloured skin, extremely long pointed ears, and ember-red irises on black sclerae. His hair is in messy curls flopping down to the side, and streaked with dark grey. He is wearing his usual gold and black robe, exposing his chest, which is shiny from the drizzle raining down from their cloud. He is wearing a gold circlet on his head and several matching earrings in their extremely long ears. He is smiling gently with his eyebrows raised, looking in Hob’s direction. Their cloud is dark, subtly cracking with pink-purple lightning, and some of the peaks look like the tops of hearts.

Hob is a fluffy brown bugbear with large fangs and tall pointed ears. He is dressed down, wearing a plain navy-blue greatcoat with his cavalry hat tucked under one arm and his other behind his back. His brow is furrowed, and he is looking towards the ceiling, with comical droplets of sweat jumping off his forehead. His eyes are luminous yellow in the dark.

Rue is a gigantic owlbear (bipedal, top half owl and bottom half bear) with a barn owl’s face and dark talons. They have yellow-green-tinted feathers that become dark khaki as they get longer. They have big, shiny black eyes, and pink speckles around them. They are wearing a multicoloured quilted jacket over an ornate red doublet, and a single-shoulder forest green cape with a leather pauldron. The pauldron is engraved with golden peonies, and pink peonies also bloom around their thought of “I Love Him.” They are also wearing a dark pink floppy cap with a peacock’s feather stuck in it.

Binx is a very short moth faerie, with brown moth wings folded at their back. She has dark purple, short-ish messy hair and purple eyes. She is dressed in dark purple and bronze, with detailing like damselfly wings. Her ears are medium-sized and pointed, and she also has fluffy moth feelers. She is covered in pinkish blotches on her cheeks and shoulders, and her skin is otherwise light brown. Their eyebrows are styled in dots, and they are wearing purple lipstick and a paperclip as a hair clip. The question marks around them are purple, and resemble streaks of paint.

The tailor shop is darkened, cast in a blue hue with only vague shapes behind the foursome. Shafts of light come through on Hob’s and Rue’s sides, leaving Andhera and Binx in shadow.

/end id

#kp hob #delloso de la rue #binx choppley #andhera of the unseelie #ruehob #battlemaster of ceremonies #a court of fey and flowers #acofaf spoilers #d20 art #dimension 20 #image described #my art #things i made #fortpolio

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jadedwolf18-blog · 1 year

Text

Mini Phantom Invasion.

Hi, I plan for this to be a series of inter connected one shots based on some of my favorite prompts. I’m a huge Tim Drake/Red Robin x Danny phantom shipper, so for now most of my fics will feature them. Once I’ve end this series, I’ll try branching out to other relationships Danny could have with the bats.

I can’t remember where I got all of them but I’ll try to tag as I find them. If anyone notices a prompt or plot they’ve seen please let me know or tag the person it came from. I’m knew to posting on Tumblr so I’m still getting used to how to tag and insert links. Thank you.

🤍🖤💚💙💚🖤🤍

Chapter 1

Danny was not having a good day. He’d had a fight with his parents about ghost hunting, stating clearly that he had no interest in their bias views on an entire species based on one encounter when they were young. It had escalated to the point where they blamed his lack of interest on the fact that he was spending to much time with his sister and his female friends.

He’d had enough! He left mid argument and was contemplating just packing up and moving into the Ghost Zone permanently. As he’d slammed the door he could hear his parents shouts for him to come back and once again blaming his behaviour on a ghost.

What did his sexuality have to do with ghost hunting? And what was wrong with wanting to be more feminine sometimes? He honestly didn’t understand why they found it so weird or wrong for him to swap between genders and pronouns? Jazz, Sam and Tucker accepted him as he was, they didn’t but an eye when he would randomly say ‘she’, ‘they’ or ‘him’, they just continued the conversation with the new pronoun and that was that. They understood and accepted that sometime he felt male or female or neither. He was lucky to have them.

The day just seemed to continue down hill from there. It was summer vacation so Sam was forced to spend time with her parents at some rich holiday resort, Tucker had won a spot in some sort of tech camp and Jazz was still at College working on a finals thesis and was unable to come back for the summer. He was essentially alone for the summer. He could hang out with Val but she was working a lot and he didn’t want to bother her. He still felt guilty about her dad losing his job, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault.

*****

After leaving the house he’d found a place to transform and let the cool rings of light soothe him and took off into the sky. After finding out they could survive in space it became their favourite way to relax, they’d spend ours exploring space, even hang out on the moon. Thank you high speed and portal powers. Their Phantom form had changed in the last two years. People could no longer tell if they were male or female and he looked less human now. Thankfully, they looked nothing like their alternate future self. When their legs melded together their ghostly tail looked more eel like and their ears were longer and thiner, resembling delicate fins. Jazz and their friends had joked about how the acted like cat ears. Lastly their face was now a pale mint color, almost white and translucent, his eyes were still the same luminous ecto-green with deep blue pupils. The only similarity to Dan, that they could see, were the fangs and longer hair both of which were also present in their human form.

*****

They had been flying around Amity, a somewhat lazy patrol of his claimed haunt, it was a calm night. Ever since they had defeated Pariah Dark the other ghost had calmed down and came to Amity less frequently. A few still came to bug them, namely Skulker, Ember, Johny and Kitty. Young Blood and Boxy more frequently than the others and of course Cujo came by often. Their visits were more to do with fulfilling their obsessions than anything else. Danny’s obsession was Space but so was Protection. They needed to fulfil both to some extent or suffer from a form of ghost hunger. It was a win win situation even if they did go back… home? Was it really still a home?

Before they could go down that dark spiral again their instincts took over and they narrowly dodged a bright green shot that had been aimed at their head. Whirling around and flying higher out of range they looked at their attacker and just stared.

“of course it’s them.” They muttered. Before repeating it with more venom than they thought they were capable of. Which was shocking because not even Vlad had receive as much hatred in the entirety of the time they’ve known him than in that split second they felt it towards their own parents. “Of fucking course it’s them!”

They blink away the shock of such an intense emotion and huffed. Not even bothering to acknowledge them they turned around to leave. That had been a mistake. They’d barely made it a few paces before pain bloomed across their back as an Eco-blast shredded the fins on their lower back and bit deep into their flesh. They bit back a cry of shock as they felt themselves plummet from the sky. It took a moment but they gathered enough concentration to open a portal. He didn’t care where they ended up as their only thought was ‘Somewhere safe.’

They fell through and just before they lost consciousness, they heard their parents yell after him.

“Get back here you ghost scum, so we can rip you apart molecule by molecule!”

“We won’t forgive you for corrupting our Danny!”

‘Of course… It’s always Phantoms fault…’ Danny’s world turned black as he continued to fall. Maybe when they opened their eyes again all of it would have been a dream.

*****

Somewhere in the infinite green a Grandfather clock chimed. A screen flickered. Time flowed on.

“All is as it should be.”

Chapter 2

(I'm Not A Cynic Song by Alec Benjamin)

Danny pulled their little floating ducks out of their personal pocket dimension and set them to gently drift in the hot spring. They had found it while wandering the forest. Their lower back still ached and they were a little worried about how it hadn’t healed completely yet.

*****

They didn’t know where they were or how long they had been in this dimension but they were safe and alone for the time being. When they’d woken up, the first thing they did was try to figure out where they were. thankfully no-one had discovered them, tucked away in the underbrush of the forest they had landed in. They’d let invisibility wash over them and flew high enough to get a view of the land. They recognised asian architecture and flew in the direction they had spotted a small farming village. With a closer look they determined they had landed in some version of Japan. Instinctually they knew they were not in their home dimension. Everything, even the air and feel of the atmosphere felt slightly shifted to the left. It was like that feeling of entering a hotel room, they were all essentially the same but there were the little details that told you it was a different hotel.

*****

Brushing the thought, and everything associated with the reason they were injured and alone in a foreign dimension, aside. They coiled their tail in the centre of the spring and sank down until their lower back was submerged in the healing warmth of the spring. Closing their eyes in content they began to hum. Their eyes shot open when they felt a gentle nudge against his arm but smiled gently at the little wisp as it bobbed and drifted in the breeze. They continued to hum and watched in amusement as more joined the first. The little orbs of light ranged in color from soft pale blues to vibrant greens and warm reds, oranges and yellows.

They lost themselves in their song as they twirled in and played with the water, creating little floating ice crystals that caused mist to form around them as hot and cold air danced around each other. Humming soon gave way to words as they swayed to the rhythm only they could hear.

“I'm just bein' realistic, bein' honest with myself

I've tried bein' optimistic but it doesn't seem to help

So I'll just have to admit this is the hand that I've been dealt

I'm not bein' pessimistic, just bein' honest with myself”

They were thankful to Pandora, who had taught them to sing in an effort to train his ghostly wail, for realising he was taking on the form and habits of a triton.

“I'm not a cynic, oh, today's just not my day

I've tried to spin it 'bout a thousand different ways

But from every angle, oh, the outlook is the same

I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

They poured all the hurt, betrayal, anger and loneliness into their voice, allowing them to release it all in a more melodic call than his previous wail. That, as pandora explained, had been an unhealthy burst of emotion and they were lucky they hadn’t blown out their vocal cords the last few times they used it.

“I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it”

Through their practice they found they could influence emotions but not out right control them. They were glad, influencing them was bad enough, he didn’t want to manipulate anyone. They didn’t want to spend their life wondering if the people around them truly cared or if they had somehow manipulated them into caring. They may me a budding empath but they still struggled to tell the difference between a sincere emotion and a projected emotion.

“You only get that which you're given, it's not always up to you

Not every Sunday is a picnic 'cause the sky ain't always blue

You can't just change the weather by changing your point of view

Some days you have to wait until the storm just passes through”

Danny’s voice grew louder as their emotions poured out into the lyrics. They knew they still had their friend, their sister, Elle and everyone in the Infinite Realm. They were also the Half Ghost son of ghost hunters and scientist with a heavy bias against Ecto-entities. They will be the rulers of an entire realm in only a few short years.

“I'm not a cynic, oh, today's just not my day

I've tried to spin it 'bout a thousand different ways

But from every angle, oh, the outlook is the same

I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

They gave a bitter sweet smile as they watched the wisps duck and weave between the ice crystals. They looked around for their ducks and their smile turned a little more sad as they waved their hand and the little ducks joined the dancing lights and crystals. Each one was modelled after his favourite comic book vigilante. They’d had to save them from the dump truck once, they’d been looking for them when he’d asked his parents, their father had made an off hand comment about how he should throw out old toys and they’d panicked. They’d manage to find and save them all just before the truck arrived.

“So like a boat on the ocean, I'll rock with the waves

God, I'm so sick of this notion that I have to fake

Fake my emotions and pretend I'm okay

So like a boat on the ocean, I'll just rock with the waves”

Jazz had bought them for them, after they had told her about being gender fluid and pan, they were probably one of their most treasured possessions. Jazz had gone on a whole spiel about how it’s important that she show support and provide a safe and understanding environment. They hadn’t been listening, they’d been crying. To caught up in their overflowing emotions and happiness. It lasted a day, their parents had been less than understanding, with their passive-aggressive comments and actions.

“I'm not a cynic, oh, today's just not my day

I've tried to spin it 'bout a thousand different ways

But from every angle, oh, the outlook is the same

I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

Their frown returned. They had shot them, that in itself wasn’t unusual, as Phantom. Isn’t that a sad thought. What was was that there had been no prior warning. It was a sniper shot, from their mother. Only their heightened hearing and instinct had saved them from ending up dead dead instead of a Halfa. That bothered him

“I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

They returned to humming the last notes of their song as the dunked under the water to rinse off. They popped back up and gathered their ducks, floated up out of the spring and laughed as the wisps twirled around him. They landed on the ground, allowing their legs to form and walked off into the forest, dancing lights trailing after them. Completely unaware of their watchers.

*****

The shadows slunk away to report their findings. While two birds hesitantly returned to their temporary nest, One worried and wanting to help the being that reminded him so much of his younger siblings. The other having felt a connection to a being that had shared similar experiences, someone they wanted to help and if they wanted to end the beings loneliness… that was no one’s business but their own. Both slept little that night, both determined to find the being again and offer what they could to help.

*****

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2

@alinmenttreasure

@blackroserelina

@blacksea21090

@seraphinedemort

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animatronicthing · 6 months

Text

⠀ ⠀ ⠀LUMISOUL ꓹ

Pronounced lumi - soul . Original term coiner is @squidlita { link to the post here } , .

🎙️ 〜 ꓹ Term coined by ;;⠀『⠀FREDDY⠀ 』 .

⠀, ,⠀EXPLANATION ;⠀A gender that is or feels radiant & luminous , just like a glowing ember , or the soft glow of a candle flame , .

🕯️⠀REQUESTED BY : NOBODY !! . ⋯

tagging ; @accessmogai for image ID . @hisreturn , @dollgirlsmind for the sillies , .

#⠀ ᵎ { 🧨 } ⌗ . ┅⠀The MADNESS Never Ends．#mogai coining #mogai gender #mogai flag #mogai term #mogai #liom coining #liom label #liom gender #liom #xenogender #xenogender coining #xeno flag #xenogender blog #lumisoul

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melanie-the-artful · 5 months

Text

Genshin Character Names' Meanings

Hello there! So, I remember I once saw a post about meanings of some characters' names in another fandom, and while some of those names probably were given to those characters just because they fit, some of them certainly were chosen for their meaning, and well, it was just interesting to read! And yeah, here I am, in today's series of "I have freaking nothing else to do" I brought you a list of meanings for Genshin characters' names (today only Travelers and Mondstadt).

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

Aether | Comes from the highest air layer - where the gods live, and from the god who embodies it in Greek mythology; Also not sure whether it's connected, but fun fact: in Latin "Iter" means «Journey»

Lumine | Literally «Light» in Latin

Kong (Chinese Aether) | «Heavenly», «Air» or «Sky» - Chinese Name

Ying (Chinese Lumine) | Literally «Glimmer», «Twinkling» or «Light» in Chinese and a Chinese Name

Sora (Japanese Aether) | Literally «Sky» in Japanese and a Japanese Name

Hotaru (Japanese Lumine) | Literally «Firefly» in Japanese and a Japanese Name

Paimon | Comes from King Paimon, the 9th of Goetia Demons

Amber | Well, in her case it obviously references her eyes that carry that color, and it is also similar to the word «ember», which underlines her being a Pyro wielder; Also «Fierce» as an originally Arabic or Celtic Name

Kaeya | «Monsoon Flower» - Sanskrit Name

Lisa | «God's Promise» - German Name

Jean | «God is Gracious» - Originally French Name

Barbara | Although in our world it is believed to come from barbarians, in context of Genshin she might've been named so after Barbatos, the Archon rulling over her nation. It also makes sense considering how her father also serves at the church; Also «Foreign», «Strange» as an originally Greek Name

Diluc | Comes from «diluculum» - Latin for «Dawn»

Noelle | «Christmas» - Originally French Name

Klee | Literally «Clover» in German

Albedo | Term for the fraction of sunlight that is diffusely reflected by a body; also a Latinicized alchemical term meaning «Whiteness» and «Purification»

Sucrose | A chemical element, also known as C₁₂H₂₂O₁₁, or just sugar

Mona | «Solitary», «Adviser» or «Wish» - German Name

Fischl | Considering German grammatics, literally means «Little Fish»

Amy | «Beloved», «Dearly Loved» - German Name

Bennett | «Blessed» - Originally French and Latin Name

Rosaria | «Rosary» or «Wreath of Roses» - Derives from originally Latin Name Rosarius/Rosarium

Diona | «Goddess» or «From the Sacred Spring» - German Name

Eula | Could be based on the german word for owl Eule or the German Name Ulla which means «Will»

Mika | «Who is like God» - German Name

Venti | Sounds similar to the word «windy», also literally «Winds» in Italian

Barbatos | Comes from Duke Barbatos, the 8th of Goetia Demons

Crepus | Comes from «crepusculum» - Latin for «Dusk»

Seamus | «Supplanter» - Originally Irish Name

Frederica | «Peaceful Ruler» - German Name

Alice | «Noble» or «Exalted» - Originally German Name

Rhinedottir | Originally Rhine was a name for someone who lived by the Rhine river in German, yet the word itself originates from the word 'renos', which means «Flowing Water» or «Raging Flow»; meanwhile "dottir" is «Daughter» in Icelandic

Barbeloth | May derive from the Gnostic aeon Barbēlō, a supreme, androgynous entity in Gnosticism known as God's first thought, being his "feminine aspect" and the Mother-Father of the aeons

Nicole | «Victory of the People» - Originally French Name

Varka | Likely based on the Old Persian 𐎺𐎼𐎣 (varka), meaning «Wolf»

Decarabian | Comes from Marquis Decarabia, the 69th of Goetia Demons

Dvalin | Comes from a dwarf in Old Norse tales, meaning «The Dormant One» or «The One Slumbering» (akin to the Danish and Norwegian "dvale" and Swedish "dvala", meaning «Sleep, «Unconscious Condition» or «Hibernation»).

Durin | Overally associated with a dwarf named Durin, who is also from Norse tales, though some say it is of Latin origin and means «Firm», «Enduring»

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

Yeah, here it is! I know, I basically made a compilation of things you can find yourself in Google, buuuuuut in case you were too lazy or not curious enough to do so, I did so in your stead! And I have to admit that those are not names of my homeland, and I may not know all their variations or significance, yet I'm still interested, and I'll be happy if you're willling to correct me. And maybe I will even dig in deeper into the topic next time!

So, see you!

Edited: Yeah, I added a few more meaningful characters and Travelers' names on other languages + a few other tiny additions. I think now it seems a little more complete. Next up is Liyue!

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pointycorgiears · 1 month

Text

Crocodile was on the outer balcony, watching the dark waves. It was a moonless night and thousands of stars littered the sky. He gave a puff of his cigar and gazed out on the horizon. Shark Rock, a tiny island off the coast of Karai Bari, was a black silhouette against the starlight. It was given that name because of the tall dolomite that jutted out the middle, resembling a shark's dorsal fin. There was a scout ship milling about it.

It was quiet. Just the soft tumbling of the breakers and Mihawk's shuffling books around the shelves inside to keep him company. Buggy was already passed out somewhere. No Marines, no rival pirate crews, no activity whatsoever. It was peaceful.

He took one more drag of his cigar. As he turned to go inside, something caught his eye.

He looked at Shark Rock. The orange lights of the scout ship seemed higher than they should be. He blinked to clear his eyes, thinking it was a trick of the darkness. But no...the lights hovered above the water...all three of them.

"Huh..."

He watched them for a moment, squinting to focus. Maybe a rogue wave had lifted the boat upwards? That idea was shot down as soon as the lights rose higher....and higher, far past the shoreline of the rock. And they kept going.

And then they moved.

They changed their position, spinning around each other while simultaneously rising, until they were at the tip of the shark fin. The arranged themselves, by some force of their own, into a triangle pattern, hovering over the rock.

"Mihawk..." Crocodile quietly called out to his partner. The other didn't hear him. And he was too transfixed to look to see what the swordsman was doing.

The lights grew brighter.

"Mihawk..."

The lights became so bright that they began illuminating the rock...and then they illuminated something else. Something metallic-like, nestled in between them as if they were attached to it. Triangular, silver, and solid. A light shot from the middle of the thing directly onto the shark fin. As bright as a pillar of light from God himself.

"Mihawk!" His voice was now strained, and he didn't know why. The air on his arms stood up. His hand trembled his cigar. And he didn't know why.

"Yes?" Mihawk answered from inside and began walking to the balcony.

The lights pulsed, flashed, and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Shark Rock was dark again.

Mihawk finally appeared on the balcony. "What is it, Crocodile?"

Crocodile tried to find his words and choked. "Uh...nothing. I just...I thought I saw something."

****

[[About a week later...]]

The beach was nice and moonlit. The palm trees swayed overhead, their fronds dark and gentle in the wind. Crocodile liked to smoke on nights like this. The moon cast a caressing glow over the whole island and it soothed away the hectic moments of the day.

He walked to the edge of the trees, looking across the beach to the water. The waves rolled calm and easy. He took one final drag and blew the smoke through his nose. He bent down to crush the embers of the cigar in the sand. Some flitted along the ground and burnt out. One caught the breeze and flew up past his eye before simmering into nothing. Crocodile turned away to head back through the trees.

The little ember appeared in the corner of his vision. He tilted his head to make sure it went out.

Then froze.

Oh no.

Three lights glowed an eerie orange further down the beach. His gaze was stuck. He could not look away from the three orbs hovering several feet above the sand, casting their luminance on the beach. He paused and waited in the trees.

What are these things? he thought. He never expected to see anything like this again. He stared at them from his hiding spot in the treeline. They could be a threat to Cross Guild. As he observed, he noticed a black shape between the lights, connecting them together into one form just like the first time he saw them. It was slender and narrow. It looked like a cake platter and cover. The lights glowed on the underside, arranged in a triangular pattern. He was fixated on it.

Then the beam shot down from its belly, just like it had on Shark Rock, only this time it hit the sand a few feet below it. Crocodile narrowed his eyes. Something moved behind the light pillar. He blinked again, and there was a humanoid form with long arms and legs. It looked…off. Like parts of it were transparent or made of a mirror.

Crocodile froze. Every hair on his body became alert. It felt like the wind was knocked out of him and he almost gasped for air. Instead he made a quiet inhale of breath in fear of drawing the thing's attention.

The fear.

Crocodile was a veteran as far as battles were concerned. He faced Marines, pirates, Whitebeard, all head on. He was never afraid. He could not be shaken. The thing moved its glittering head.

He was afraid. And he didn't know where the fear was coming from.

He was thankful he was in the dark shadows of the trees. The head moved again, turning, and two black, soulless eyes were suddenly looking in his direction. Crocodile instinctively dropped into a pile of sand next to the tree stumps. He dared not move a single grain on the ground.

The thing turned away. One of its long arms reached down to where the water curled on the beach and scooped some of it up into some kind of vial. Then it shimmered and dissipated into the light beam. The light disappeared, and the orange orbs and black mass began floating out toward the ocean, slowly, and was eventually far enough out to sea that the lights could have been ordinary stars on the horizon. They vanished into the night.

Crocodile crawled as a sand pile all the way back to his tent.

****

Dinner was quiet. Crocodile did his best to keep his fork from rattling in his hand and his hook from carving holes in the table. Mihawk asked him what's wrong. Crocodile couldn't answer. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. Buggy was staring at him to. He drank a little bit more than usual that night. Buggy bumped into him in the hall as they prepared for bed.

"You ok?" he asked. There was something in the clown's eyes. Crocodile nodded.

"Did you see the lights too?" Buggy asked, deadpan.

Crocodile stuttered and his voice cracked. "W-What?"

****

Mihawk had forgotten the book he was reading in the common room of the main tent. He went down the hall that connected the living tents to the main tent, walking brisk and silent with barefeet. He trotted up the stairs intending to retrieve it and go back to bed, but he found something unexpected that made him take pause.

Crocodile and Buggy were still there, talking excitedly about something on the sofa. He peeked from the top steps. They were dressed in their night clothes and Mihawk wondered what was so important that it was stalling them from going to their quarters to sleep. He walked up the last steps. "Why are you two still here?"

"AAAAAHHHHAAIIIIEEEEHHH!"

Mihawk was taken aback. Both Buggy and Crocodile had just screamed, at him.

Buggy's eyes were wide as he was pressed against Crocodile's chest, a knife gripped his hand pointed at Mihwk. Crocodile's hook was also raised in his direction in a defensive stance.

Mihawk lifted a brow. "Are you in distress?"

"We can't go to sleep!" Buggy exclaimed."

And why is that?"

"Because they'll come for us!"

"Who, exactly?"

"The Star People!" Buggy exclaimed and Crocodile silently nodded. His eyes were bloodshot.

Mihawk was now concerned. "What are you idiots talking about?"

****

Mihawk never should have asked. He never should have indulged them. Because then, maybe he could be sleeping snug and comfortable in his room right now. Instead, he had to hear a mad rant from Buggy about the "Star People" and how they were flying around at night in invisible vessels, and they got into people's heads to hear their thoughts, and how Gol D. Roger had seen them once, and how Roger had told Buggy to beware of them, and how they somehow lived among the stars, and...

Mihawk didn't really remember the rest. He stopped listening after awhile. All he knew was that Buggy, and somehow Crocodile, had convinced him that they were suddenly incapable of sleeping tonight because they needed to be on guard and they wanted Mihawk to stay with them in the common room all night. Because he was the most powerful, they reasoned. He could protect them.

While it was flattering that his crewmates thought so highly of him, he had a slight issue when it meant he was going to be protecting them from ghosts and fairytales like a couple of scared children.

Actually, Buggy and Crocodile were terrified. Of what exactly, Mihawk did not know. Crocodile was not easy to scare, so it had to have been something serious. All he knew was that both of them saw something to put them in this state, and it was his duty as the only currently sound mind of the leadership to care for them and be on guard. Cross Guild couldn't afford to be vulnerable. If that meant sleeping in the common room with them, then so be it.

So here he was, bringing some blankets and pillows from his quarters for himself to sleep on. He reached the top of the stairs and walked in the room. Buggy was in a reclining chair with a blanket over him and a very large lion plush toy caught in his death grip. Crocodile was laid out on the sofa, draped by blankets and his coat. Both of them seemed to be settling down at least, finally.

Buggy caught sight of him from the chair. "Did you bring Yoru?"

Mihawk raised the sword with his hand, making sure the blade was displayed sharp and intimidating in the low light.

"Good," Mihawk heard Crocodile mumble from under his coat.

Mihawk sighed. He set his blankets and pillows on the floor between the sofa and chair, arranging them so he would be comfortable. As he began to lay down, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Mihawk stood, taking Yoru with him to the landing.

Daz Bones met him there in the dark. He looked at Mihawk curiously. "I was doing a security check. I thought some children had snuck in here. It sounded like little girls screaming."

Mihawk sighed. "Do not worry. I will handle any children that need attending to."

Buggy yelled from his chair to see what was going on and if they should put the foil on their heads and start running. Luckily, Daz caught on to Mihawk's exasperation.

"I see. Goodnight, Sir."

Daz left and Mihawk returned to his luxurious bed on the floor. He laid down, Yoru dutifully lying next to him within arm's reach. Just in case there were any...intruders, or something.

🛸🛸🛸

#Long post #short story #cross guild #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #buggy the clown #daz bones #one piece #This just kinda happened. Instead of working on my other fic I wrote this lol #The first part is based on my dad's ufo sighting #I grew up in a very active area. Lots of weird lights in the skies #I just wanted to torment Croc a little bit #Yes I know there are Space Pirates. But this not about them. Spooky.

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iamthecomet · 6 months

Note

Comet, it's cold outside this morning and I woke up with thoughts!

It’s winter and freezing outside. Probably around 4:30 AM. Dew has to pee so he carefully unwraps himself from the tangle that is Aeon and slithers out from under the warm down comforter into the chilled room. The stone floor is so cold on his feet, he tiptoes to the bathroom in the darkness to take a leak, making sure that his tail doesn’t touch the floor as well.

He makes his way back to bed and tries to shuffle back in without bouncing the bed too much so he doesn’t wake up Aeon. He snuggles in, siding his back against Aeon when suddenly he’s gripped and pulled tight to the quint’s chest. One arm around his chest, the other on his lower belly and - oh - traveling down and palming at him.

And now there’s hot breath into the nape of his neck, a whine and a lick at his earlobe as Aeon presses Dew’s hips back against his own…and Aeon’s hard. And now Dew is too. And Dew’s cold feet are interlocking with Aeon’s warm ones, tails are tangling and nobody is sleeping anymore!

Happy Sunday!

Gremlin

It's Tuesday now but that's just because me and my frozen feet have been thinking about this for days.

Aeon sleepily nuzzles his face into Dew's neck. Purrs. Nipping along the side of his throat, fangs grazing the sharp line of Dew's jaw. And Dew's rocking his hips into Aeon's hand, pressing back against where Aeon is hard, slotted in Dew's asscrack even with the layers of clothes between them. "You left," Aeon whispers. "Had to take a leak," Dew supplies. Grinding his ass back against Aeon until the quint ghouls gasps turn to breathy moans.

"And you're cold," Aeon murmurs against Dew's skin. Dew doubts he's that cold. Sure the Abbey is drafty, the fire is burned down to embers, the ancient heating system barely reaches him room. But Dew runs hot. It takes a lot more than a quick trip to the bathroom to dull it. But he isn't going to deny Aeon his wants--his excuses. Not when he's gripping Dew's cock through his sweatpants and dragging his thumb along the piercing under the head. Homing in on Dew's sweet spots before he's even fully awake. "I'm here now. So, warm me up," Dew mumbles. Tipping his head just enough so Aeon can reach his mouth with his own. It's an awkward kiss. The press of chapped lips at an angle that doesn't really help. But Dew leans into it anyway. Flicks his tongue out over Aeon's bottom lip. It's dark enough that even with their faces touching Aeon is muddy. Shadows cast over his dark skin, eyes a luminous violet. Aeon's fingers tighten around the head of Dew's cock. He leaks into his sweatpants. Hips jerking forward, head knocking back against Aeon's shoulder as he gasps. They'll both be warm in no time.

#comet writes #drabble #gremlin #it's so cold here too #I need a fire ghoul to warm me up #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #<- for tagging purposes #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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tflaw · 2 years

Text

— IT’S A RICH MAN’S WORLD.

The wealthiest man in Snezhnaya wants you. Is it a blessing or tragedy just waiting to unfold?

꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱ . . . f!reader. yandere!pantalone. dubious consent. coercion. blackmail. power play. unprotected. pee & uh cum. fingering. finger sucking. reader is smaller than pantalone. he’s a very nasty man and downright crazy.

++ anyways! it has been… weeks? months? since i’ve last written a one shot. this is my first yandere content that i’m actually a little proud of. a breakthrough. it cracked the writer’s block out of me fr. i’ve had so much fun writing this and i hope you’ll feel the same while reading! if ever i’ve forgotten to include a warning, please tell me! it’s 12 am where i’m at rn and my mind’s a biiit foggy. tell me what u think! <33

The air is sharp with perfume, rivaled by the redolence of wine placed in the hands of nobles completing the hierarchy in Snezhnaya. Bejeweled to the teeth and garbed with the finest silk, they filled the main hall of Zapolyarny Palace like scattered gemstones against the crystal blue shades of pillars and gothic windows. Buzzing noises of business talks, gossip of who wed who, which lord cheated on his wife, and the anticipation of whatever such lavish revelry might offer has taken over the place.

“We’re up in a few minutes,” a girl whispered before muttering the same to the other person standing beside you.

A feast is dedicated to the Harbingers’ return to Snezhnaya after months of diplomatic work. All over the country, everyone who possesses an invitation bolted to their favorite seamstresses and lapidaries. Even markets, shops, and stalls have all been occupied by the preparation. While you, on the other hand, have spent most of your days in the theatre to perfect the dance for the festivities.

You palm your stomach, blowing out the anxiety poking your belly with a few deep breaths. It’s not always that chances to wander around the Palace’s halls are bestowed upon someone like you. Hailing from one of the poorest villages in Snezhnaya, the elders would consider it the highest of honors to walk on the very halls as the Tsaritsa. However, your mirth has been lost to the acid in your throat, ignited by your need to flee.

If this night hasn’t been a turning point in your rather mundane life, you would’ve done just that. But the stakes are high and you couldn’t risk a misstep.

Even with knowledge of what is to come, you start as the drums begin to roll. Heads turn expectantly towards the huge frescoed doors. All face luminous except yours, as one by one, the Harbingers march into the hall clad in their regalia.

The throng immediately parts to make way for the Harbingers and Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. They say she is as cold as the snowflakes blanketing Snezhnayan soil and just as pretty. Seeing her in all her glory, the songs and poems proved to be true: she is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Forgetting for a moment the current plight you are situated in, your lips part in awe as your eyes trail her walking towards the crystallized throne. Heartbeat wild and frenzied, you’ve made a mental reminder to savor each moment. But your thoughts have been snuffed out like embers embraced by snow when your eyes moved a little further to her right.

In blatant recognition, Pantalone tilts his head at you. There he is, eyeing you like a predator. He walks into the place knowing exactly where you are. Watching and looming over like a storm gathering in the middle of the sea. Afraid of its familiar intensity, you are, but a small part of you seeks refuge in sniffing out its whereabouts to better equip yourself on how to escape its havoc. An endeavor you were yet to accomplish. Despite your swift effort to sever the connection, his eyes have lingered. They always do.

“It’s time,” the same girl says, bobbing her head before proceeding towards the made-up stage in the corner of the hall.

At the first beat, you attempt to steer your mind away from thoughts of Pantalone. He makes you unsteady. His very presence is hard to bear most especially when he looks at you like he owns you. Which, in more ways than one, is true.

You twirl and sway to the music, plastering a toothed smile whenever you spin to the center. If all goes well tonight, the theatre could attain favors from the Harbingers and the Tsaritsa. You could be a performer in Zapolyarny Palace and your future, as well as your family’s, will be secured. Perhaps, then, you won’t need to lean in on anyone for help. Such small hope but hope nonetheless.

Years of performing and blending your very soul with the stage have not prepared you for the attention that followed after the dance. For some reasons unknown, men and women alike flocked in your direction, congratulating a job well done. Alien you might be to the nobles’ way of conversation, you have treated the courtesy as your liberty from Pantalone’s presence.

If you can entertain these nobles long enough, perhaps you wouldn’t need to cross paths with the Harbinger tonight.

That has been the bane of your existence, has it not? Thinking that you can undermine, even for a little while, Pantalone’s eyes.

Your heart sinks as a hand slips around your waist, pulling your body close to a solid chest.

“I see that you have been enjoying the night without me, darling,” he whispers, shooing away the men attempting to approach with stares alone.

“Your Grace,” you breathe, hand tightening around your glass. Stomach coiling at the endearment, you shake out of his grip but he proves yet again how it’s futile to do so. He’s bigger than you. Stronger.

“It seems to be a challenge getting a hold of you tonight. What with all the men circling you around like vultures.” He looks down at you with a glint of mischief. His hand makes fast around your waist. “Worry not. They will not bother you any longer.”

You nervously sip from your glass, wondering when will you ever have the tongue to tell him that you’d rather conjure up fake smiles with the nobles than be in his company.

“I’m quite alright, Your Grace,” is all that you’ve managed to say. “And… and I wouldn’t want to deter your reunion with your fellow Harbingers,” you follow, hoping that he’d remember the comrades he has abandoned.

“Nonsense,” Pantalone scoffs. “In truth, I’m growing tedious of conversing about work and I’d assume you are, too. We shall retire to a quiet room.”

He leads you through the body of the crowd, as though parading the both of you together. Noticing the curious eyes thrown upon you by guests, your confidence evaporated. With his hand on your waist, claiming more than protecting, you know exactly the source of the next gossip in town.

Such a straightforward display of affection by a Harbinger, no less, is not to be taken lightly. You grow uneasy ruminating about what might be the impression of people around you by now.

The discomfort settles deep in your bones when Pantalone opens a door to a secluded room. Far from the crowd, no doubt, the distance muffles the music from the hall. Standing on the threshold, you hesitate for a moment, debating whether to run and make for the exit.

“Come on in,” he encourages, tone honey-laced. If he sensed your hesitation, he’s hidden it quite well with oblivion. But only when you’ve stepped inside the chamber does he finally look away.

Pantalone shuffles out of his fur coat, revealing his turtleneck sleeveless shirt embedded with jewels near the collar. “You may leave us now,” he commands the servant poking the hearth with a metal rod, whom you failed to acknowledge because of your nerves.

He politely bows to you both before departing the room.

“Come sit near the fire,” he says with a mirthful twitch of his brow on your unmoving frame. “One might think you’re afraid to come close. Come here.”

Mustering up all courage, you ask, “Why did you bring me here, Your Grace?”

There is nothing but the sound of wood crackling and liquor pouring down into two glasses after your question. Warmth might have enveloped the space, but you remain cold against his penetrative stare.

“Why, you ask? I know you’re not one for social gatherings. Therefore, I took it upon myself to save you from such dull conversations. Political matters aren’t your thing, I surmised. And they ken nothing else but politics,” he explains before walking towards you, offering the other glass with a smile.

Stop the charade. You know nothing about me.

“It matters not,” you insist, voice feeble as you reach for the glass. Frustrated are you by his theatrics, you have not forgotten that he is a Harbinger. Through and through, he gives away no sliver of doubt about his capabilities regardless of his laidback demeanor. “I have to be there with the others. This night is important to the theatre. We have to be there for when the Tsaritsa—”

“When the Tsaritsa, what?” He caresses your cheek, invading your personal space once again. “When Her Majesty bestows the theatre a favor of being permanent performers in the Palace?” he narrates as if he’s reading your mind.

“Is it a far-fetched dream, Your Grace?” You blankly stare at him, heart thudding.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” he says before turning away, taking your hand to sit you down on the sofa before the fireplace. “The dance was impeccable. But it failed in comparison to you.”

To that, you refuse to say anything.

Pantalone leans over your shoulder, tracing the side of your neck with his finger. “Although I have to remind you that for it to happen, the Harbingers need to be unanimous.”

Your breath hitches at the skinship. Reminding yourself that you need only get through the night, you close your eyes. “Are they, Your Grace? Unanimous?”

“Nothing has been decided yet,” he whispers against your skin. “But they’ve been quite enthralled by the performance— and by you, no doubt. I’ve seen it in every man’s eyes tonight.”

“Surely, you’re mistaken, Your Grace,” you reply nervously, sensitive to the direction of the conversation.

“They want you,” he insists. “And I’m not one to share.”

There it is— the words. His adamant claim to mark you. To claim you. To make you his territory.

“I’m not certain I understand, Your Grace.” Your throat bobs deeply, eyes fixated on the dancing flames as you await his response.

Pantalone sighs and takes a step back before circling around to crouch in front of you, blocking the flames from your sight. It has taken everything in you not to flinch when he took your cold hands in his warm ones.

“The Harbingers need to be unanimous,” he repeats while brushing your knuckles with his thumbs, as if consoling. And yet there is nothing in those eyes but unadulterated determination and yearning. So flagrant that his pupils dilate because of it.

“And you…” You release a shaky breath, realizing what he truly means by being unanimous. “You do not plan to agree, do you?”

He sighs in relief, as if grateful that you’ve finally understood his dilemma. “It is far beyond my patience to watch these men ogle at you—”

“Why are you doing this?” you croak suddenly, throat burning with anger and the need to lash out. “Why are you doing this to me?!”

It’s not only your life that’d crumble. The others… the whole theatre… and he cares not even the slightest bit.

Pantalone squints a little, confused at your unforeseen rage. He stands up, towering over your frame. “You look at me as if I’m wicked.”

Your nails dig into the soft flesh of your palms, restraining the rancid words you wish to throw at him behind clenched teeth. How powerless you are under his mercy. It’s pathetic. It eats at your bones from within, leaving only a rotten mess behind.

Receiving silence, Pantalone tilts your chin up with a mere lift of his finger. “Am I truly that terrible?”

“It is… it is a terrible thing to be desired by you.”

At the look he’s given you, cowardice snakes into your ire and poisons what little bravery it has offered.

“Why? Because I want all of you and I have not a mind to share with anyone?” An odd sense of curiosity tints his voice. It sounds as though your disapproval over the matter downright confuses him.

“Pardon me, Your Grace. I am in dire need of fresh air.” You stand up but he catches your wrist swiftly, crashing your body onto his forcefully enough to have elicited a wince from you.

“Look me in the eyes. Say that you’re willing to face the consequences of leaving this room and I’ll let you go.” The threat echoes as a whisper. Sharp and baleful.

“Consequences?” Seized by terror, your lips went ajar and pallid. You face him completely, wrist hot under his fingertips.

He brushes the skin below your eye, as if plucking an invisible thread. “This is hardly the time to bring out the list, is it?”

The list. The list of everything your parents owe him: loans, mortgages, and debts. Who in Snezhnaya doesn’t owe him something? He’s the bloodline in which mora flows freely. A man of great wealth and influence, no one would dare displease him on purpose.

“One day, I swear, I’ll pay everything we owe you. To the last penny. After that, you won’t hear from me ever again,” you hiss, clueless as to where you’ve gained the courage. Perhaps it’s rooted in your hopelessness and exhaustion towards having to bend on his will.

“And I’ll do everything in my power to prevent such a horrible day,” he says, unaffected by your attitude. If anything, the determined set of your brows only deepened the flush on his cheeks. “Now, be a good girl and I might just change my mind…” he extends the last word, taking off his glasses before closing his mouth on yours.

Everything, up to this moment, is weighing on a scale. Perhaps ever since your family has been indebted to him. The other side of the scale fattens and grows heavier with each mora beside your parents’ name.

One day, Pantalone’s list will become as blank as your mind tonight.

One day.

Despite the frantic need that is evident in his eyes, Pantalone’s kisses are patient. He’s like an ocean on nights like this: dark, blood-curdling, and yet tempting. You couldn’t deny, no matter how you fight the admittance burning on your tongue, that he knows exactly where to touch and kiss you. How to coax lecherous sound after lecherous sound from your lips whenever his fingers would reach inside your cunt, curling and pumping until your stomach tightens.

“Don’t be shy,” he sighs a breadth away from your lips, breathing in your heavy pleas. “Let me hear you.”

You want to refuse him the pleasure of watching you melt under his playful ministrations. Want to extinguish the carnal lust painted in his eyes as he sucks and bites on your tit. Silence would wound his pride and crush his ego underfoot. And yet silence is the weapon missing from your arsenal.

“I do appreciate your efforts in trying to keep your moans.” The corner of his lips tips up. “But your cunt is so wet. Nobody will believe your displeasure.”

Panting, your mouth opens for a rebuttal but he quickly shoves his fingers on your tongue. Overwhelmed with a whiff of something vinegary, you gag.

“Taste yourself,” he commands. “Suck.”

At the first swirl of your tongue, Pantalone grabs your throat with his free hand to steady your head. He hisses on your cheek, “I’ll fuck you so hard tonight you won’t think of anything else.”

And he did fuck you. Hard. In many positions that have kept you exposed and embarrassed. He moves with his back flexing as he pounds your cunt.

Your eyes blurred with tears when he flipped you on your stomach, ramming his length completely inside from the back. You have been stretched open, reduced to a whining mess. And he, grunting and groaning, drives himself in and out while securing your waist with big hands.

Pantalone feels his cock growing harder, balls plumped and full of unreleased cum. His stomach clenches down to his cocktip. But before his release, he pops his cock out of your wet cunt. It bobs eagerly under its weight, shaft glossed with your arousal and ringed with white around the base.

The interruption has given you but a few seconds to breathe before he pulls your leg and guides himself completely inside once again. You both gasped at the continued connection. You shriek when he hooks your other leg over his shoulder and starts to fuck you sideways.

It’s embarrassing. The position is far too crude yet feels so good. It lasted for a minute before Pantalone shifted to face you. Both of your bodies are bouncing to his movements.

“I’m close,” he declares in the crook of your neck followed by a gutted moan.

Along with your head being fuzzy, the need to pee arises. “W… wait—” you rasp, palming his chest away. “I need to pee. Stop— stop!”

He stiffens and slows down, rising above you just enough to press a hand on your lower abdomen, before picking up his pace again.

The knot in your chest slides to your abdomen, to where his hand is pressed down your flesh. You look up at him, a harsh cry escaping your lips. Utterly devastated with pleasure, you haven’t the strength to stop yourself from gushing around his girth. The warm liquid secretion from your cunt squirts everywhere— on the sheets, your thighs, and his thighs.

“Archons,” you hear him sigh before an interval of unrestrained moans and grunts leave him. He gathers you in his arms, cock throbbing sporadically inside your walls.

You know, by then, that he had come hot and needy straight to your womb. The last you’ve seen are his eyes, stricken with nothing but satisfaction and desire before sleep tugged you in its embrace.

It’s the slip of the sun’s rays through the curtains that woke you up the next day. Sitting up on the bed, you’ve found yourself alone in the spacious room. No signs of Pantalone, and yet you still feel him in every corner of your body as if he’s stuck himself in your skin. Shivers thunder down your spine at the remnants of last night. The flashes of memory you’d rather forget have rendered you hankering for a good, long bath. And yet you have been faced with a dilemma right after stepping out of bed: your clothes are gone.

Panic rising, you clasp the sheets around your body before checking under the bed. The floor is spotless.

How are you supposed to leave now? You might’ve already sold your soul to the devil named Pantalone, but you hold a sliver of self-respect to even consider marching naked out of Zapolyarny Palace.

“You’re awake.”

You jolt at the sound of his voice.

He might’ve noticed your alarm, for he chuckles and raises his hands in defense.

“Where are my clothes?” you rasp, putting as much distance between you as physically possible.

“Oh, that?” He pumps his shoulders up in realization before snapping his fingers, then a servant carrying a huge box enters while looking at the floor. “I could not let you in those rags so I had someone burn them while you sleep.”

Stupefied beyond recognition, words have unfortunately failed you when you needed them most. You feel faint just sorting through his revelation. Rags? And burned them without your permission?

He motions to the servant, who placed the box on the bed beside you. “Go ahead and try the dress, my love. I’m certain the color will suit you.”

There is no doubt about it. The dress has been bought from the most expensive shop in the city. You know this because of the name written on the box. Once, you’ve dreamt of possessing a dress made in that shop. Yet now, all you can feel is dread.

“I can’t,” you counter, “I can’t take this. I have not the mora to pay for this.”

“Leave us,” he commands and the servant ran off without a backward glance.

Pantalone closes the distance between you, breaching your personal space and claiming it as his own. He takes your chin and says, “It’s a gift. And it’d please me so if I see you wearing it.”

“I do not want to please you.” You wag your head to take his hands off you. “I’d rather dress in rags or go home naked than… than wear that.”

From your peripheral, you’ve witnessed him wipe the sides of his mouth. He’s turning impatient, that you are certain. However, he reaches for your hand and holds it tightly despite your struggle.

“Although the latter entices my imagination, do you want me plucking out the eyes of each person that’d look your way? I suppose not.” He grips your chin and made you look at him this time. An eerie smile, one that would’ve appeared lovely to a stranger’s eyes, shapes his lips. “However, you do have a choice, my love. You always have.” Then he kisses your forehead and leaves the room.

Choice. You want to spit at the word. Trample on it until it’s reduced to pieces. He talks of choices but in truth, you have been left with none.

It’s either you wear the stupid dress or remain in this stupid chamber with your stupid pride. Nothing matters. Whatever it is you decide to do, it will end up pleasing no one but Pantalone.

do not repost, plagiarize, copy, or edit anything published by wtfkuni. check masterlist.

#tw dubcon #pantalone x reader #pantalone smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere genshin x reader

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alexanderlightweight · 8 months

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Congrats on the move being over!! I just did that in the fall and it is so miserable. Hopefully y'all are safe and sound and can get to the fun stuff like decorating. For prompts, what about Magnus noticing that Alec clearly has a competence kink and is always trying to jump him after he does anything that Alec deems impressive, a lot of which are things Magnus rarely gets complimented for. Everything from little things like making some basic (for Magnus) potions, or pulling off a complicated ritual, or putting someone in their place.

Thank you!! ooof yeah it really is. it's been a bit f a mess too cause i'm unpacking for multiple people (they physically cant) and so it's slow going lol and my focus is just being done tbh. but we are all safe and honestly it was good timing with how bad the heat got around here. we wuld have been really screwed at the last place.

i hope you enjoy this!

<3 lumine

It’s impossible for Magnus not to notice Alexander interest. He gives himself away so easily, never truly trying to hide his curiosity or the delight that watching Magnus inspires in him.

Alexander acts as if even the simplest of tasks are impressive.

He’s full of delighted pleasure when Magnus explains making his own shampoo and the next morning when they slip into bed, he murmurs his awe against Magnus’ jaw. Such a simple thing, and yet it impresses Magnus’ darling so very much.

Alexander’s pleasure sends thrills down Magnus’ spine and it coils in his gut and his magic.

Sometimes when Magnus is studying and dissecting a ritual — cannibalizing it for ease of use or just because he can — Alexander will press fervent kisses to his jaw when checking in on him. They are never distracting, but they do linger with heat and Alexander always murmurs such delightful things before he leaves Magnus to his work. It’s enough that Magnus is nearly always tempted to follow — and sometimes through no fault of his own, Alexander sways him — before he gets a hold of himself.

Alexander will watch Magnus create a star and then kiss the dust and ash of it off of Magnus’ fingers with eyes more luminous than an aurora. He never seems to grow bored of Magnus’ more flippant experiments, instead equally curious no matter if it gets set aside or not.

The first few times Alexander happily accompanied him to Pandemonium, Magnus hadn’t understand what his boy got out of it.

Beyond the pleasure of Magnus’ company of course, which Magnus knew was the main draw.

However, while he didn’t hate it, Alexander wasn’t known for his love of Pandemonium of any of the other clubs he sometimes joined Magnus at.

It typically depended on how his night had gone and if he — if he worked — had the energy or even left the Institute early enough to join Magnus. Or if he didn’t work, if he’d gotten enough rest where going out and dealing with Pandemonium wouldn’t defeat the point of taking a night off.

Sometimes however, Alexander will manage to stop by for no reason at all.

He’ll cut himself a few hours of time in patrols where instead of returning to the Institute he instead meets Magnus at Pandemonium. He stays for a bit and then meets the next patrol he is due to lead or train.

It had never quite made sense to Magnus, until he realized how often Alexander came while Magnus held court.

Too often holding an open court will turn to complaints or even fights. While Magnus is hardly ever directly involved, he typically does shut down and end the conflicts before they can get out of hand. It took a few weeks — where Magnus was admittedly busy with other things — before he realized that Alexander liked seeing Magnus put others in there place.

It lit something in Magnus’ boy, a spark that would turn into an ember that Alexander carefully hoards until they can meet again. It explains the passion that Alexander so often meets Magnus with the mornings when they reunite after such evenings.

It's been a very long time since Magnus has been so wholly appreciated.

Such simple things and yet by Alexander’s delight and awe alone, it brings them both pleasure.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters

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theresa-draws · 2 years

Photo

luminous

“kenobi is the last ember of a dying age...”

#star wars #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #theresa draws #2022

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iivantablackii · 2 months

Text

Evermore

Chapter 1 - The Garden of Eden

Adam x Eve Story (Hazbin Hotel)

A/N: This is a story I will be writing based on the show Hazbin, as it's been a hyperfixation since even before the pilot came out. It's a combo of theories for the show as well as referencing actual biblical texts to tell what I think the story of Adam and Eve in the context of Viv's current storyline would be most fun with. I'm sorry if my formatting is off it's been forever since I've posted on Tumblr and I'm quite rusty with using its features. I will also be posting this on AO3, hope you all enjoy it!

At first, there was nothing. Existence seemed so far-fetched, what was to be of everything was not, however. And then all at once, it was.

A large explosion, light stretching far and wide, only being highlighted by the void around it. Debrises casting all around, all that was left of the bang that brought all here was a large star in the center of creation. But there was more than just this, perspectives of all realms were produced from the blast, it almost seemed like creation was almost instantaneous, and beings began to form from the stray rays of illumination. Golden dust swirled together, forming beings from these blazing embers, large feathers pieced together, stretching and fanning around their bodies. Their feet floated above the clouds around them, and what remained of the glow began to form above their heads, as if it were their own individual suns just above their minds.

The purpose was not spelled out, and yet they carried on. They all worked as if their actions were choreographed, clear, and concise at first, they knew not why they were to create but they knew they had to disregard all doubt. A hierarchy of light and virtue is what these beings began to create. Creating other creatures, ecosystems, and substance, and to hold all the most treasured of creations they made a garden.

There was only one species left for these angels to make before they truly began their purpose, these beings would be different. They would be more potent, holding much more to them than all these angels had made thus far. Made from the residue of stardust, the same as them, they formed two beings. As if mirrors of the angels, they were still naive to what existence truly meant for them, an experiment of sorts.

Adam and Lilith.

This is where humanity was meant to start, humans were made to love and adore, not just the angels above but one another and the garden they were made to reside in. To be progenitors. To rule over the fish in the waters and the birds of the heavens, all that is alive was meant to be there for them. To watch and worship. Made to be innocent, they did not know better, that would pose more of an issue than what was ever considered. The first humans did not seem to be fond of each other, both were strong-minded, and they were disharmony. Even if they were made to be equal, the two were far from the same.

Though one of the two had caught the attention of an angel, a dreamer. A young being of light with whimsical ideas for creation, he was the first to ever question, to ever doubt. But this way of thinking is what set him apart from the other luminous beings, he was the only angel who wished for more.

Lucifer, the Morningstar.

Flying down to the garden, the living star had approached the first woman. Proposing his ideas of what could be, what life would be like in his vision, and instead of calling his dreams outlandish, Lilith was the first to believe.

But this left the first man alone, too prideful to even attempt to coexist with the woman again.

Perhaps this should have been the first sign to those above. That they were not the only beings created from the explosion of life. Their existence was ordered, to create virtue, it was belief... But the concept of belief came at a price as that means uncertainty, locked away in the void, far away from it all a monstrous entity lay dormant in the darkness. And it would continue to rest, only until it was awoken by the first to ever open their eyes to all of existence.

~~~

It was darkness, the first sensation felt as if her being was underwater. Floating through nothingness, she could have allowed herself to sink, succumb to whatever lying at the bottom. If there was ever an ending to this feeling, but no- she pushed herself forward. To emerge from wherever she was, whatever lay on the other side was calling for her. Beckoning for her to come forth and open her eyes.

The first man stood there, the angels had summoned him for some unknown reason. The bringers of light had made something new, creation often was for the sake of itself, and this was no different.

“Greetings Adam, we have something for you.”

Her eyes opened, and the first thing they met were pools of blue. Made to mimic the heavens above, the first man stared at her again with curiosity. And the first thing this new human had ever done, was smile at him. Excited at the possibilities of life, where at first she had known nothing her mind was now shining with the brights of ideas and questions.

“We made her for you, a companion to explore the garden with you. We call her Eve.”

Adam had tilted his head at the new woman, there was a part of him that wished to be skeptical, but he could not be. Her hair seemed to be made of clouds, ivory strands that cast down her dark skin, an earthy tone that seemed to reflect slightly gold with the sun's light highlighting her features. The man could not help but wonder if they made her to be the perfect image of beauty.

“Eve?”

The angel nodded, observing the two as this was a delicate process. Much thought was put into Eve, made to compliment Adam in many ways as well as an attempt to steer him to betterment, being made from him to be his other half. Made pure, clean of the same imperfections as her husband, he was driven to his cause, himself. He did not know better, but they were hoping to correct this self-serving nature before it ever got truly out of hand. It was no secret that after the other woman had fled the garden their first man was growing lonely. As even if the two did not get along, he had no other company to speak to. They had tried to create more, more animals for him to seek companionship with, but it was apparent they needed another human. Eve was a cure for this emptiness at his side. She was a gift to him, and he to her.

Eve’s grin seemed to widen when she heard her name, bringing her hands to her lips almost in an attempt to hide her grin, giving a strange-sounding laugh Adam could not recognize. Not to say it was not pleasant, it was light and heavenly, and it amused him as well. It was a giggle, a sweet sound that left him wishing to hear it again.

“Now, we shall take our leave. Adam, why don’t you show Eve what you’ve discovered in the garden so far? We are sure that is an excellent way for you to get to know one another, as you will be spending eternity playing together.”

The angel spoke, her voice rippling through the air like a song, giving the two one final look, hope in the two behind her gaze. The first man and his new bride, two halves of a whole, even with the woman being made second, made for Adam. There was hope for this human to blossom in her way, made to love and adore the world even more than Adam did, they had taken their time making Eve. Women were made to be art after all, just as men were to be.

Golden ribbons seemed to swirl around the angel, helping the seemingly endless amount of eyes to disappear along with her physical form. Even with her seemingly gone, all of the heavens had their focus on these two. Humans were an experiment of sorts, made to be more than just the few numbers they currently had, made to care for the world and play in their small paradise that had been sectioned off to live in. Their little world to spend all of time in, a delicate ecosystem that needed to be preserved and the errors of what had happened with the first woman needed to be corrected somehow.

Man and woman, standing before one another, neither of them had said a thing to the other yet. Staring at one another, curiosity evident on both of their features, it was like time stopped. The world around fading away and the only things to be heard were their heartbeats.

Eve was the first to turn away, looking at the foliage around her with appreciation, she was entirely new. Not yet having the time to fully comprehend her surroundings, a soft smile on her features gave away a serene look to her. The smell of wooded lands with floral hints surrounded the area, it truly was beautiful. A museum of the most gorgeous things creation had to offer.

“Eden…that is what they call this place, yes?”

Her voice was smoother than his, it sounded like a song, melodic in a way. Lifting her head, she shut her eyes, taking a deep breath, life seemed so…wonderous. She enjoyed it, knowing there was so much out here for her to explore, after all, she had all of eternity to figure out whatever questions she had.

Adam smirked, chuckling to himself and rubbing the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly. He did not have too much experience speaking to others, the angels and Lilith were his only practice, and the latter did not end too well with him. A part of him felt almost ashamed for what he had demanded of her, he never meant to be truly rude but he would never admit that, mainly due to how the two had argued and were not resolving any previous issues anytime soon. Though he remained somewhat skeptical, were all women going to be similar to Lilith?

“Yeah, it's nice here isn’t it?” This spot was the same place he was awoken to after his creation, where it had all started and where it is now starting again, “They say I should show you around… which is fine by me, if there’s anyone who knows these gardens it’s me. If you tried to go off on your own you’d probably get lost.”

Eve gave him a confident nod of approval, “Yes, you have been here longer so if anyone could be a good guide it would be you.”

“Damn right, I would be.” His crude statement came out without him properly thinking about it, no one knew where Adam had even learned such language but he did have a brash personality it seemed. But at the very least this new woman did not seem to mind all that much, rolling her eyes but her smile gave way that she found the way he carried himself amusing.

Adam gestured for her to follow him, here in the clearing it was easy to admire the plants and animals from afar. He guided her to the forest, the vast amount of trees was lovely but sometimes it was easy to get swept away by it all and lose track of where they were. Being here longer meant he was fairly confident that he knew where he was going, but he would occasionally tear his eyes away to look back at Eve in curiosity—wishing to gauge how she felt about it all.

So far so good, while they were silent it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable. There was a small air of awkwardness, as this was new for the both of them and to be thrown together so quickly. It was all a little disorienting for them both. In ways respective to just the two of them, one was just getting used to being on their own and the other was coming to grips with their consciousness.

Adam was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat and forcing himself to stand taller, fixing his posture so he gave off an aura of confidence, “You know- they had put me in charge of watching this place?”

“Oh really now?” She raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk replacing the soft expression she had before, her tone even changing to something more teasing, “All by your lonesome, impressive.”

“Hey! watch it…” Adam narrowed his eyes at Eve, which only caused her to give a short laugh watching the first man become defensive. “I’ll have you know it’s a very demanding job. I have been tasked with caring for all that lives, naming all of the creatures that the angels made up above.”

That was a partly lie, nothing was demanding about Eden. Paradise meant there were no hard days here, the land and its creatures were all perfect, a controlled area where the worst this life had to offer were merely minor inconveniences. Eve was quick to catch on about that, deciding to indirectly call him out for his dramatization of what he is to do,

“Very well then, let’s see it.”

“See what?”

“See you name the beasts of these lands of course.”

Adam scoffed, her words were clearly meant to attack him, but instead of damaging his ego it only seemed to egg him on more. He almost couldn’t help the small smile stretching across his lips, “I’m already bringing you to a place I was just visiting the other day, I haven’t finished naming all the fish in that lake so we can start showing you around there.”

Guiding her closer, it was now easier to see where he was taking her. Into another clearing, it was not a plane of grass this time. There was water, it shined brilliantly in the light as if it were liquid crystal, and it was easy to see the ground beneath its clear waters. Small fish swimming gracefully in its waters, eternally dancing away with another. But there was another creature of interest, floating above them all.

What a strange creature it was, pure white it sat in the water, gliding across its surface. It seemed to love to swim, to be in the water, but it had wings. Just as the angels did it had wings folded softly at its sides, a long neck craning over beautifully. Its head was an interesting shape, the front of its face gingerish shade with a small band of black lining its beak.

Stepping into the lake, Adam began to move closer to the creature, softly moving through the cooling waters, expecting Eve to join in with him. Raising an eyebrow, he laughed a bit at her hesitation,

“You were talking so big earlier, where did all that confidence go? It’s just water.”

“I was just created, don’t act so surprised that I’m new to this.”

Eve was just careful of accidentally disturbing the fish, stepping in she shivered at the change in temperature around her legs but a small laugh erupted past her lips. It was a very strange sensation to feel any shift in temperature for the first time, but after the first step in she was quick to join by Adams's side, they both observed the creature as it drifted closer to the humans. Tilting its narrow head at the two before softly squawking at them.

“...does this one have a name yet?”

“No, I’ve never seen a bird like this one yet- normally they only fly in the skies or stay in the trees.”

“How curious…” Eve slowly lowered herself closer to the water and brought her hand out to the bird, getting close enough for the bird to take notice but not quite touch them without permission, to which the creature nuzzled its head into her hand. She looked up at Adam who stared at the creature seemingly in deep thought before humming to himself in approval.

“We will call this one, a swan.”

Eve smiled, “Swans…what a lovely little creature.”Eve stood back up again, letting the bird float closer to Adam, it swirled around the first man and made a strange honk sound at him, which caused the two to laugh at the sound. Eve gave him a playful smirk, crossing her arms as she gazed up into his eyes, “Though, I wouldn’t call this demanding.”

“It’s only easy because I make it look easy, just think about how I have to do this with the entire garden of these animals.” Adam scoffed, shaking his head at the woman as he placed his hands on either side of his hips, puffing his chest out with pride.

Eve only gave him a single look, he knew she wasn’t buying it. And it was only solidified when he watched as she couldn’t hold in a chuckle from escaping her lips, trying to politely cover her evergrowing smile behind her hands. Adam huffed, but getting an idea he bent down, dipping his hands into the water in a cupping motion as he brought his arm quickly up splashing Eve with water, and he kept up at it when he heard her laugh harder.

“Alright- alright, I’ll stop laughing- mercy!”

Her hands were up in surrender as Adam stopped, then went to wipe the water from her face, still smiling at him. Adam’s chest swelled with pride, snickering to himself as he crossed his arms.

“I didn’t say I would believe you though.”

“Oh, you cheeky little- what you think you can do it better than me?”

Eve crossed her arms as well, standing taller as she had a confident smile on her face. Her eyes challenged his own, “Of course I could.”

“Oh, you are so on.” Adam looked over to the sky before pointing upwards, Eve’s eyes following where he was directing her to look, seeing the bright sun she squinted before the man spoke again, “How it's going to work is we are going to find new creatures in the lands and sky, we yell their names out and whoever has the most by the time the sun starts to set wins the game. We will meet back here to say our number, deal?”

“Deal!” Eve said happily.

The two stared into one another's eyes, both with a determined glint in their eyes. At the same moment, they both swiftly turned to run in opposite directions, the lake splashing around them as they desperately tried to get out before the other. The water slowed them down and off off-balanced while trying to run, Eve fell into the water letting her hands and knees meet the sand below, hearing Adam laugh obnoxiously behind her she pouted, before hearing a screech and a splash. Now wheezing she heard the first man dramatically fall back and heard his struggle as he flailed in the water, they both did their best to scramble out of the lake- their forms soaked and off-balanced as they kicked off on the ground and ran for the surrounding forests.

Eve was almost out of breath her stomach had begun to ache from laughing so hard, she looked back to see Adam run in a direction not far from her, continuing forward she had found that the lake had extended into a river, and noticed two small creatures floating in the waters, holding another's hands as the current took them wherever it wished. They held their small soft paws together, laying lazily in the water as Eve was awed at the sight before she heard a voice call out from a distance away from her,

“Lions!”

She almost was distracted by it all, before clearing her throat, she did not think through agreeing to this game. Looking back at the two creatures that were tilting their heads cutely at her she began to speak without thinking, “I- uh, Otters!!”

As much as she wanted to stick around, she had to go- waving goodbye to the smaller beings she ran once again in search of more animals to name. Pushing and weaving through the foliage, her eyes began to dart around for even the smallest of critters in need of a title.

“Rabbit!”

“Boar!!”

“Tiger!”

“Sparrow!!”

“Frog!”

“Cockroach!”

“Wait, why would you name it- wow real creative!”

And this went on for who knows how long, they ran around the garden playing this game. Pointing and calling out to any creature that crossed their path, from felines to reptiles, by the time the sun was begging to set they both were out of breath and were making their way back to the lake. Eve was picking leaves from her hair as she made her way over, to Adam who was already waiting for her there.

“I got, 129.” Eve was the first to call hers out, the number had startled Adam at first, he had lost count of how many animals she called out for but he knew he got a large number as well. “Try and beat that, pretty boy.”

“Well…I got- uh.” Adam began to count on his fingers, muttering animal names to himself as he began to use all his fingers to count, after about the third pass between all 10 of his digits, Eve watched as he paused. Softly swearing to himself before seemingly restarting from square one.

Eve gave him a questioning look, Adam growing more frustrated as his face grew warm, both from his vexation and from embarrassment. Stepping closer to him she took his hands, pushing them to his sides, before taking a set back, putting her own hands up as she took a deep breath,

“The first animal you found was the lions, then were the boars, the third were the sparrows…” Eve continued to recall seemingly every animal she had heard Adam call out to, putting one of her fingers up respectively so he could visually keep track of what number she was on. It was clear that the first man was no good at math, so she figured she would do it for him.

He just watched as she spoke, his frustration melting away as she began to name everything perfectly, not even paying attention to the number she was on as he just stared off and got lost in the melody of her voice.

“...and the last animal you named were the doves. That would make you have…129-” Eve had trailed off, realizing that they had identical numbers, meaning it was a draw. But the number had snapped the man back into reality, his confusion turning into mild annoyance.

“What? No no, I got more than you.”

“Well that's what I counted to-”

“Let's do a recount.”

Adam made Eve recount the animals, twice. Every time it came back to the same number, leaving them both kind of bummed they got the same number. It was almost anti-climatic in a way, both were disappointed there was no winner in the end, not that the game was not fun and exhilarating. They both were just trying to prove a point, as childish as it all was.

That was until Eve took notice of the soft patter of something by their feet. Small clouds of yellow, they seemed like tufts of dandelions, they were so small and delicate. Eve had begun to bend down, her hands coming down to the small creatures in a cupping motion, allowing the small birds to step into her palms and steady themselves in her hands as she stood up. Shifting the three birds to stay on one hand, she used the other to softly nuzzle against their sunny heads with a single finger. Their faces almost reminded her of swans. Cooing lightly at the creatures, while they quacked back happily at the woman, and then she turned to Adam with the smuggest smile,

“I call them ducks, which makes them 130. I win.”

Adam’s jaw dropped when the words came out of her mouth, “You did not just-”

“Oh, but I did!”

He couldn’t hide the laugh, he was trying too badly to be upset but it was just so ridiculous that he couldn’t hide his smile, “Our game ended when the sun was setting- and because you are trying to cheat the game you automatically lose-”

“You never said that the game ended at sunset, you said to come back here at sunset.”

“Well ducks are stupid anyways, they are just smaller swans.”

“Take that back! They are not stupid and they are different from the swans.”

They spent the next five minutes bickering about the most childish of things, one would think this was somehow negative. But no, the heavens were able to witness the two laugh despite the fighting. They didn’t seem to know how to drop the smile around each other, such contrasting souls mixing and playing off one another.

It was like the realms took a sigh of relief, a small triumph for humanity. Two souls playing in a paradise made just for them, two souls made to dance together for all of eternity, untouched by reality they were to be perfectly preserved.

It was unfortunate the way mankind was made, so easily that could they be broken and fall apart. To be corrupted meant that something needed to first be good, that is the harsh reality of life. Try as the heavens might, change is unavoidable, that is the only rule all concepts must face. And that means chaos was bound to seed its way into the most naive creatures to ever exist:

Humans.

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